The Same Old Story - End 03

There is one major stipulation. Whilst separated, neither of us is to engage in sexual relations with any other. For clarity, this includes kissing, making out, oral or penetrative sex. Any such breach will lead directly to a divorce.

In addition, our joint account cannot be used for anything which is solely for our benefit, so nights out you pay from your own account. I will pay in my share of household bills whilst we are separated.

I do not envision this period lasting for more than two months.

Please reply to indicate whether or not you accept this separation document and its conditions.

Yours,

Andrew."

Kat's response.

I'm sitting alone, in our flat watching the door hoping Andy comes home. I have never felt such despair. What's worse is that I know it's all my fault. When I called Stella, I knew she would be on Andy's side but I never expected the vitriol she gave me. This was so different from my colleagues who said Andy would get over it. Wendy did warn me, why did I not listen?

I ran over everything which had happened, time and time again.

It seems just a few weeks ago but when I checked the calendar it was close to three months since I began going out with the girls on a Friday night instead of date night with Andy.

Our date nights were meant to keep everything fresh but they had become stale. We'd go for a film, or a meal, a drink and come home to fuck. There was little variety. After Andy's words, I know I was responsible for that. When I think of how often he had broached a fantasy of mine I cried. If I had played along with him, this would never have happened. Our sex life wouldn't have been so boring that I would consider cheating on him. I never told him what I wanted. I kept those to myself. I was so fucking stupid.

Some of my friends at work told me not to go out with that group as they were just looking for a good time and would drag me into their world. I could end up losing everything. My selfish need won and I went out with them. It was kind of exhilarating being with a group, so openly discussing which man they were going to snare and what they were planning to do to them.

I got caught up in it. I would come back to the table, flushed from a man rubbing his penis on my stomach something I never allowed Andy to do. I'd go home aroused but Andy was always like a bear with a sore head. Our sex life died.

The girls told me that I deserved a night of passion, that Andy would be angry but he'd calm down, realise it was his fault and try to make it up to me. I told them, he would divorce me. They said he loved me too much for that. I let them convince me as each time he refused my advances, I became angrier at him. I never looked at how; what I was doing was affecting him, us.

Some friend at work had heard the girls talk that I was about to take the plunge. Eric was very interested. Wendy came to me and asked if it was true. I told her yes. She was mad -- at me!

"Andy will never agree to it and he'll dump you. It will be the biggest mistake of your life. You'll only make it worse if you go with Eric Duguid, he's a snake, a crap lover apparently and he'll love telling everyone about it. I hope Andy doesn't beat him to a pulp, which is what he deserves. Andy doesn't deserve to be jailed because of you.

"If you want to juice up your sex life, tell Andy. Go to a therapist. I'll give you the name of the one who saved my marriage."

Wendy went on, "If you listen to those sluts, you'll lose Andy. This will kill your marriage. He won't accept this no matter what these sluts have told you. How many times have they lost their husbands because they can't keep their legs shut? You'll just be another notch on someone's belt. After the divorce, you'll be able to pull as many as you want. But who'll want you as a wife and mother to their children. You'll just be a dump vessel, hoping for love."

I was shocked at Wendy's description of what my life would become.

I fought back, "Andy loves me, he'll let me have one night!"

Her look told me I was deluding myself. Even I didn't believe those words.

Her next words shocked me, "Do you actually love Andy? This is saying you don't. It's saying "Fuck you" big style. If you really loved him, you wouldn't do this.

"Tell him you want to have a better sex life, a better marriage and work with him to get it."

She walked away, her anger apparent. We've seldom spoken since.

I still hadn't made any decision when I went to buy a dress which was very revealing by my usual standards. The assistant was very helpful. She did mention that my underwear wasn't up to the task if I was looking to surprise my husband. My unflattering bra cups were on display.

She asked, "What's the dress for?"

I told her, "I want to seduce my husband." She didn't need to know I was thinking of seducing someone else.

She smiled, "If he's like most men, you'll need some lingerie to inspire him. She measured me and came back with three different sets, bras, suspender belts and what looked like small handkerchiefs, small thongs.

As I tried them on, my conscience was having a right good go at me. "Andy would love you in this. This should be for him." I knew it was right but I overruled it. The assistant noticed my full bush in my non flattering granny pants, "To get the full effect, you should book a brazilian at the salon. You'll rock his boat so much he could capsize!"

I laughed at the thought. My conscience said, "She's fucking right. Do this for Andy. If you do it for that arsehole Eric, kiss Andy goodbye!"

I bought the lingerie reasoning one for my night of passion and two for Andy. He's never home in time to see me dress anyway.

I was still in two minds about what I was going to do until the Tuesday. Andy and I had another row over something very trivial. We had been arguing a lot recently. Really, we hadn't been good for a lot longer. I was so mad, I decided to do it. I booked the salon. When my tears dried and I saw the effect, my conscience was screaming at me, "This should be for Andy! What did you call him when he suggested this? You're going to be his fantasy but for someone else. You deserve him dumping you! You're a selfish bitch!"

When I was back at the office the girls were high fiving me. It helped drive my conscience down.

I was in the shower when I thought I heard the door but ignored it. Andy's never back in time. I about died when I saw him sitting on the bed. I was stunned at how distraught he looked. His mouth was open in shock. He'd worked it all out.

I stammered, "It's not what it seems!"

He just screamed the truth at me. I wish I'd said, "it's a surprise for you," fucked him until he died but I went with the girls back up plan if they were caught. I asked for his permission to fuck someone else. It was like throwing petrol onto a bonfire.

I've never seen Andy in such a rage. His threat to hurt whoever I was fucking was so unlike him, he's such a gentle person. Anything I said just added to his pain. I never realised how hurtful what I was intending to do would be to him. No one had mentioned that except Wendy. From what Andy said, Wendy was right, I was throwing my marriage away.

I left Andy alone as I put on my makeup and dressed. When I looked in the mirror, standing in just the lingerie, my conscience really let fly at me. "How could you! You see how hurt he is! Go to him, now, beg him to forgive you and fuck his brains out all weekend." I wanted to but I couldn't deal with the rejection which I reasoned would happen.

After I was ready, I asked him again for his permission. His words, his eyes hit me so badly. He had summed it all up. Only the last part, laughing at him was wrong. As I walked down the stairs to the taxi, my conscience was saying, "Tell the taxi to go. Go back and fix your marriage. If you don't, he won't be here when you come back."

Yet again, I didn't listen.

At the restaurant, the girls were all envious of how I looked. I told them how mad Andy was but they said he would get over it. My conscience told me, "They don't know Andy! Don't listen to them."

At the club, I had a lot of attention. It felt so good to be thought so desirable, I never thought about the cost. Eric Duguid began monopolising my time and dances. He's a smarmy git but apparently good in bed. Well according to the girls but not Wendy. His equipment wasn't anything to write home about. I did drink far more than normal but that is no excuse.

Eric persuaded me to go with him to the nearby Travelodge. We sat having a last drink in the bar. I thought I saw a face I recognised. My conscience was shouting at me, "Go home, NOW! before you lose all chance of keeping Andy."

Whether it was the drink, my brain's fantasy evening or Eric's polished patter, I went to his room. We did have sex. It wasn't all that good. Yes, he engaged in foreplay, he loved my breasts (well who wouldn't). He did spend a long time eating me out while never quite managing the spot to really make me cum. He said my pussy tasted the best he had ever eaten. I gave his cock more attention that I had given Andy's in a long time. He was about 6 inches long but thinner so easier to have in my mouth. He fucked me twice, using a condom both times. Maybe fifteen minutes in total.

After he fell asleep, I lay looking at the ceiling. I couldn't believe what I had done. There had been no passion, no lightning bolts. The fantasy I'd built in my head was shattered by this grubby coupling.

I dressed and caught a taxi home. I didn't know what to say to Andy. In the end I didn't need to as he wasn't there. I saw most of his belongings were gone. I sat on our bed and cried until I couldn't cry no more. Whenever I thought to blame Andy, my conscience said, "Look in the mirror whore! You'll see who to blame."

I finally fell asleep. When I woke, I showered and thoroughly cleaned myself. I'd never felt so soiled, so filthy. This experience was worse than my first ever experience and that was bloody bad.

I tried calling Andy, I wanted to apologise and ask him to come home. I'd do anything to have him home. His phone never rang. He must have blocked me. I can understand why.

I suspected he would have asked James and Stella to help him. His brother and him have always been close. Stella was a good friend. We'd often gone out as a foursome. As the old saying goes, Stella didn't miss me and hit the wall. Her daggers were unerringly accurate. I tried to explain, I knew I was in the wrong and I needed to tell Andy that. When she said how hurt he was I broke down. She and my conscience were in complete agreement.

I went onto the computer and looked at divorces. It showed the quickest way was to admit adultery. It meant I would have to name Eric but I didn't care about him. He was a shark, time he was bitten himself. There was a financial calculator but I didn't want anything from Andy. We had been saving for a deposit on a house so we'd share that.

There was a suggestion that mediation or counselling could help reduce the animosity between couples so should be considered. I didn't know about that, could I just be friendly with Andy? Would a complete split be best? As I contemplated that, the pain I felt was immense. "Nothing like Andy's," shouted my conscience.

I've never felt so low, so flat. Contemplating the end of my marriage I thought why did I not listen to Wendy and my conscience? I let a stupid fucking fantasy screw my life. If only I told Andy when he found me it was for him and fucked him silly, I'd still be with him.

The phone went and things got even worse. It was my mum. She wanted to invite Andy and me around for lunch tomorrow as there was an important family announcement. I suspected it would be my sister Anastasia and her husband Bill saying she was expecting. They had been trying for a while. If she was, I was very happy for her.

I told my mum Andy wouldn't be there. She wanted to know why. I ended up telling her everything. I didn't know my mum knew so many profanities. As a slut and whore, I was no longer invited to lunch.

I cried and cried. I knew I deserved her rage. If Andy spoke, his would be far worse but again, I deserved it.

I was having lunch, trying to keep it down, I was so nauseous when I had a notification. It was an email from Andy. I read it. It was clear, concise, very little warmth. The one phrase which stood out was "remote chance of saving our marriage."

I replied,

"Andy,

I have received your separation document. I shall consider it fully and reply to you soon. In the meantime, rest assured the "no sexual relations" part will be abided by.

I wish to apologise for all the pain I have caused. I know this is meaningless but I never contemplated how badly this would hurt you. I'm so sorry. I allowed a stupid fucking fantasy to take me over. It would make our problems disappear.

I do love you even if this shows an extreme contradiction.

I should have listened when I was told, to speak with you, to tell you, I wanted a better marriage. I took a shortcut and have lost everything and everyone I love.

I'll be available to speak anytime you feel able to.

Kind wishes,

Kat."

I spent the rest of that miserable day writing down everything I could think off which may have caused my brainstorm. Nothing made sense. Not only had I thrown away Andy, but I had also cast aside my friends like Wendy. I had no one I could talk to; get advice from. If anything, Sunday was worse.

I reluctantly texted Stella asking her if she would speak with me. I needed to know how Andy was and explain everything. I'd prefer doing it in person. Stella's reply was cutting.

I added a digital signature to the separation email and replied to Andy. I added that I knew I was the only one at fault and he could be sure I'd never do anything so stupid again. I reinforced that I did love him. How can words on a screen convey the depth of my remorse and desire to be the wife he deserves? It can't.

I never heard from anyone that day. If any mutual friends had heard, they were taking Andy's side. The loneliness was building.

If I thought my life couldn't get any worse, I was wrong. On Monday, when I arrived at work, it seemed my girls' night experience was the talk of the office. Some of those involved had the good grace to look embarrassed when they saw how I looked. Even with makeup, it was apparent, I wasn't in a good place. So much for being my friends, not one came to me to ask how I was. Why hadn't I seen how shallow they were?

What had Stella called me, "shallow bitch." She was right.

Some of the men were looking at me like I was a piece of meat, prey for them. Around our coffee break, Eric came up, looking very pleased with himself. Well, why wouldn't he? He'd pulled the most beautiful woman in the office, according to Andy.

"Why didn't you stay, we could have had more fun in the morning?" he said loudly, wanting to look like the top hound. He attracted a lot of attention.

I looked at him with some displeasure, "Eric, you're a lousy fuck. Your equipment is below average and you don't know how to use it. Yes, you eat pussy but you don't know where anything is, and you can't follow directions. You almost came each time you put the condoms on. I didn't have one orgasm and I can orgasm easily. You're a pathetic lover.

"By the way, I'd be very careful if I was you. I'm sure I saw a friend of Andy's brother in the bar. If he tells you won't like it. Andy's gentle, James can be a monster!

"I suppose I was worth it but you certainly weren't."

Eric was mad and left almost running. I saw many laughing at him. Some women were annoyed at me, not about what I said but cheating on Andy. I agreed with them.

It seemed others wanted a piece of me. Wendy had been right, they wanted a dump vessel. I set them straight. One grabbed my bum as I was at the photocopier. I'm sure his wife will wonder why he has a handprint on his face. The noise as I walloped him reverberated around the office. He had tears in his eyes.

"Don't you fucking touch me, arsehole!" I shouted. With everyone looking, I shouted, "I made the biggest mistake of my life listening to the wrong people. I'm not a whore. I won't be a fuck toy for anyone. Anyone else who grabs my body will be missing important parts."

I glared at the man.

I saw Wendy watching me, her eyes showed how sad she felt about this. Later I went and spoke with her. "Wendy, I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you or my other true friends. I was so fixated on a stupid fucking fantasy I couldn't see the reality. I've lost my friends and now I've lost my husband. Thank you for trying to make me see sense."

Wendy hugged me and hoped Andy and I could get past this.

I returned to the empty flat. I felt so lonely. I began an urgent look at where I stood, financially, workwise, emotionally. I could afford the flat without Andy's help. I cleared all my credit cards -- two. I had no loans or other expenses.

As far as work, after the explosion things had settled down. Many relationships had been damaged but may be salvageable. The whores and I were done. No more night outs with them.

Emotionally, I was all over the place. I was wracked with guilt over what I had done. Andy's a great bloke and didn't deserve any of this crap. I didn't see any remote chance of us working through this as a couple. The longer we went without any contact, just reinforced my view.

The more I thought of us, the more depressed I became. I looked at my life to be and didn't like I what I saw. No family, no friends. All my own fucking fault!

I thought of sending Andy a selfie of me, in bed, wearing his favourite nightie, a sheer babydoll. I hadn't worn it in months. When I did, he gave me even more orgasms. I'd bought it to tease him for our anniversary a few years ago. My conscience told me he'd just block my email.

I fell asleep feeling so low. I'd need new pillows as the tears would soon destroy those ones. Tuesday was my day for changing the bed. Sometimes it had been changed a few times in the week due to our activities but not recently. Again, my fault. I almost didn't do it as I'd lose Andy's scent.

Work went a bit better. None of the men tried anything on. I got on with my work and didn't interact with anyone I didn't need to for work.

Once home, I started to look through my feelings. Both Andy, Stella and Wendy had raised doubts that I had loved Andy. If I did, I would never have considered this fucking fantasy.

What is Love? When we met, I liked him, he was kind of cute, had a good sense of humour. We could discuss anything without an argument. When we first kissed, it was a bit more interesting than many kisses I had before. There was some intangible feeling, I'd never felt before.

It wasn't long before I found him kissing my bare breasts. I'd never noticed he'd undone my blouse and unhooked my bra. The sensation was wonderful. Others, three, had been there before but no one played them like him. I don't know if he stopped or I made him but I know my panties were wet, very wet.

As I searched my memories, I was shocked. I wore sensual lingerie, not overtly sexy but definitely not granny busters back then. When did I change? Why?

It was a couple of weeks later, after a number of dates where we fooled around, I had surprised both of us when he had me cum through caressing and kissing my neck and tits. It was still a few weeks before we made love and it was making love. Andy made sure I was ready.

I'd lost my virginity a couple of years before and hadn't been intimate with anyone since. It hadn't gone well. He'd stuck his dirty cock in my mouth and tried to fuck it. I gagged and almost vomited. He wasn't happy with my skill as he told me in no uncertain terms. He didn't prepare me, just rammed into my cunt. He did it twice. It was bloody awful. I realise now, far too late, that experience killed my sexual confidence.