Trust, and its absence, in an affair

Yesterday, I promised to tell another sexy, yet awkward, story. Here we go!

I met Wes on Craigslist in early June, last year. He was handsome, brilliant, and wrote beautifully. After a few weeks of lyrically lovely letters, he asked for my telephone number. His number was blocked on my phone's caller ID, but we talked for a few hours and discovered similar world views, the same kind of wit, and complimentary sexual requirements.

We planned to meet at a coffee shop somewhere between the two of us. I took the train from my suburb, walked the few blocks through sprinkling rain, bought my coffee, and waited. And waited. He called (still from that blocked phone number) to let me know he was running late, but would be there shortly. It took a little while for us to find each other once he was there, but we settled in a corner and chatted. There was chemistry fairly sparking between us. The place we met had books on every wall, and we talked about those we'd read, those we wanted to read, those we disdained outwardly but secretly loved. I felt this gorgeous connection, and knew that the sex would likely be explosive.

We walked through the neighborhood around the coffee shop, talking about our gardening woes while looking at various landscaping projects. He walked me back to the train stop, and shared two thorough, fabulous kisses with me, and I stood on the train back to my car, awash in a wave of lust.

A few weeks later, we managed to arrange our schedules for a Friday afternoon at a hotel. I would have liked another "date" before we went to bed together, but he had trouble getting away from home and work, and said pretty words about how he really didn't want to wait to fuck me, so I went along with it. We'd agreed to split the cost of a hotel room, so I found a great deal (by the way, http://biddingfortravel.com is fantastic for gaming Priceline's hotel bookings, and I got a room in a 4-star hotel for $31).

The day before we were set to meet up, he sent me a list of instructions. No perfume, no make-up, no hair product, to bathe thoroughly (uh, like I wouldn't want to be squeaky clean for sex?) and I followed them to the letter. He told me he'd call when he was in the parking lot for the room number, so I read on the bed in a slinky, silky nightgown and waited. And waited some more.

He arrived, 90 minutes after he was supposed to meet me. I let him into the room, and he ravaged my mouth, going straight for the tonsils. Nothing wrong with it, but it was maybe a little much a little quickly for me. He sat on the bed, and gestured me to recline between his legs, my back to his front.

He brushed his lips across the nape of my neck, and I luxuriated in it. He slid one strap of the nightgown off my shoulder, and then the other. Each hand took hold of a nipple, which he teased and twisted and pinched, varying the pressure to find my pleasure. He reached between my legs and teased my (freshly waxed) pussy. I tried to find something to do to him, yet he kept me from him.

At last, he swung off the bed and removed his clothes. He was incredibly handsome, even naked. Fit, brown hair, gray eyes, a moderately muscled chest likely sprinkled with hair. He told me to remove my nightgown, and I pulled it over my head (totally ruining the french twist I had coaxed my hair into, since my hair always seems to get in the way).

He slid on top of me, and seemed to examine my body as he brought me pleasure. He suckled my nipples, squeezed my breasts between his hands. He noticed the stretch marks and c-section scar, signs of motherhood, but kissed them as he moved down my body. He commented on the nice work of my waxer as he looked at my pussy.

In our conversations, Wes told me that he adored cunnilingus. Does every man seeking a sexual partner say that? Because we can tell if you don't. It's okay. I'd rather do something else that you really do like if you're not thrilled by it. I am comfortable with my own taste and scent, I'm hygienic, but I also get really, really wet when I'm turned on. Whether the lack was me or Wes, he took three swipes at my clitoris with his tongue, moved up immediately and then poised his cock at the entrance to my cunt. While I was pleased that I'd passed his inspection, I wasn't going to fuck without a condom.

I finally took the initiative and pulled him further up my body so he straddled my chest. I sucked his cock (nicely sized -- wide enough, in the six-or-so-inch range) and looked at his face. He kept his eyes closed, but by the jerking of his cock in my mouth and the slackening of his jaw when I combined my tongue and fingers on his balls, I was doing fine. I grabbed a condom from the table where I'd placed them (a girl never should be unprepared), and got it on him in one try. He seemed displeased, but stayed hard, which worked for me. He sat on the bed, reclining on his elbows, and I mounted him, feeling him fill me and stretching around him.

Wes was silent in bed, something he had sworn he wasn't. It's hard for me to lose myself when I'm the only one making any noise, but I did my best. He stopped me right as I was about to cum, and tried to get my mouth on his cock, which at the angle I was at, was not going to happen. "Wes, I'll do just about anything to please you, but I don't bend that way." He laughed, admitted that I was right, and I settled alongside him to suck his cock, as he wished.

I've said before, the taste of skin with condom residue isn't my favorite, but I can deal. He played with my clit and I sucked him until he came. I still hadn't cum, and he didn't seem to notice. "I have to get going," he said. He got in the shower, alone, and I read in bed until he chastely kissed me goodbye. After the door closed behind him, I finished myself with my fingers.

I had some mixed feelings after this encounter. He didn't notice that I didn't cum? He didn't care? Maybe this is why his marriage was sexless.

He called that night, when I was nowhere near my telephone. Left a message about how beautiful I was, likening me to the full moon that night. I was mollified, and assumed that the next time would be better.

We talked a few times a week for months after that, but the lyrically written e-mails ended the day we fucked. He really wanted to come to my house when the kids weren't home to fuck again, but that's against my rules. When I offered to get a room at the same place, he was suddenly too busy. I stopped taking his calls in October, since I didn't think we'd ever manage to get our schedules to match up again, and he never e-mailed again.

I think, deep down, he didn't want to spend a dollar on the affair. That's okay. I'm not a hooker, and I'm not seeking monetary gain from these adventures. But I don't have a place to meet my lovers, so it needs to be on neutral ground. I'm willing to pay my share. But I also felt like I gave more than I got, from a trust standpoint.

I should preface this by saying that I am well aware that I am in a different situation from the majority of people seeking extramarital succor. My husband knows I'm looking elsewhere and he doesn't care. If a lover decided to make my life difficult by confronting my spouse, hubby would be displeased because it's against our "don't ask, don't tell" proviso, and would consider it a sign that I didn't choose someone who respected our rules, but my life wouldn't change materially.

I know that in this respect, I am lucky, and I do understand the measures that married men must take to protect their own situations. While I would never, ever jeopardize someone's home life, they have no real way of knowing that. It's a weird kind of honor among thieves, I suppose. Wes told me what he did for a living, but not where. He never told me his last name, where he went to school, if he had children, and he never ever trusted me with his telephone number.

The evening when I posted my last ad, I got a call on my phone from a blocked number, right before the ad was flagged. I know it was him, and I am quite sure he knew it was me. He didn't leave a message.

Hmmph!

So it seems that neither Dude X nor Mongo will work out. Dude X, as I expected, chickened out. He sent an e-mail on Tuesday night, saying that cheating on his wife didn't fit in with his version of himself. That's fine, really, but it doesn't explain why he answered the ad in the first place. This is part of why I'd prefer a guy who's strayed in his marriage before.

I am less upset about Dude X than I am about Mongo, who I haven't heard from now in a week. He promised me in our last conversation that he was still "as interested as ever, so don't give yourself a complex, cutie!" I responded to that e-mail last Thursday, and then I sent a "Hey, hope you had a great holiday weekend, thinking of you" e-mail on Tuesday. I won't call or text or e-mail again, unless I hear from him.

This is a lesson I've learned over the time that I've been, well, dating. When you really like someone, it doesn't make them like you more to bug them incessantly, it's more likely to make them never want to talk to you again. I know this, intellectually. It doesn't keep me from feeling that awful urge to send progressively more strident or cute or sexy e-mails or texts. I may have already gone one over the limit with the second e-mail to Mongo. I won't compound it by bugging him more.

I suppose that this is the difference between being cool and psychotic -- the cool girl THINKS about constantly communicating with someone she's interested in, while the psychotic girl can't take the hint. Of course, the totally copacetic ladies don't think about it OR do it and there must be some women out there who never are more interested in their suitors than the suitors are interested in them so this doesn't come up. I can at least control the impulse enough not to push the button.

Next up (possibly later today), a story from last year. There is sex and awkwardness, my specialty!

Weekend hijinks

As expected, no communication from either Dude X or Mongo, but I presume that will start up again tomorrow, sometime.

I had family in town, but had arranged to go out both Friday and Saturday nights with a couple I've enjoyed hanging out with (and fucking) several times in the past, Bob and Nell.

Friday night, we danced and drank and ate cupcakes at the bar. There were a ton of work/family acquaintances there, and while Bob whispered dirty nothings in my ear a few times while we danced, and Nell did grind on me during a hilarious version of the lambada, I knew that nothing was likely to happen that evening.

Saturday night, I arrived to their home in the later afternoon for the BBQ. The food was fantastic, and I enjoyed debating politics and poking fun at the various party participants. Everyone left shortly before 10, and when I asked Bob if he'd like me to stay or go home, he referred to me as Nell's big present, and hoped sincerely that I'd stay. How could I not oblige?

We moved into the bedroom. Bob moved behind me, kissing my neck, while Nell stood in front of me, kissing my lips. She has lovely lips, and I could taste the tequila from many margaritas that evening in her mouth. They stripped off my wrap dress, Bob unhooked my bra, and Nell slid my panties down, kissing my nipples and stomach and thighs as she went.

We retired to their (huge) bed. I lay on my stomach across the bottom of their bed and spent some time reacquainting myself with Bob and Nell's bodies. Nell helped me arouse Bob to full tumescence, as we took turns licking his cock. He stopped us from finishing him, and we moved to focus on her, licking and squeezing her large nipples. I moved down to taste her pussy again. Every pussy is differnet, of course, and hers was as I remembered -- relatively tight labia, the world's easiest to find G-spot, and a tangy musk that was, as always, delicious. I put two fingers inside of her wet cunt while I sucked her clit into my mouth, and felt incredibly successful when she started to cum just a few minutes later.

I kept sucking on Nell's cunt, licking and nipping at her labia, and she came again quickly. Bob moved behind me, and I heard the condom being applied to his (not-terribly large, but reasonable) cock. He spread me open and slid into me. It's been months since I've had a cock in me, and it was lovely. He came (a little quicker than I'd wished) and Nell replaced his cock with her mouth. I hate eating post-condom-ed pussy, but she didn't seem to mind.

We moved well together, finding something wonderful to do with each passing moment. There are those moments of laughter and awkwardness that come with all sex, like when Nell accidentally elbowed Bob in the head while fucking me with her tongue, but we took them in good humor.

When we'd had enough, I cleaned myself up, dressed, and drove home. I was in bed by 1:30, and have many pleasant memories of our evening.

We don't see each other that often -- they live an hour away from me, and we are well-suited to each other as occasional friends and lovers, but they're not the solution to my search for a long term FWB. I like them, the sex is good, but they're not smart enough for me, nor could I deal with their (rather closed-minded) politics more than once every few months.

But I got laid! Orgasms were given and received! It was a successful weekend on that base. :)

Where things stand...

So it's time to offer pseudonyms to my two suitors.

Guy #1 (polysyllabic):
Married, more kids than I have. He works about 20 minutes from my home. He's quite attractive, quick-witted, and we had excellent chemistry in a 30-minute phone conversation on Wednesday. We know some of the same people, it turns out, but not in the same contexts. We had originally planned to meet for coffee and potential kisses early this morning, but he ended up stuck at home with sick kids, and couldn't get out. His e-mail apologizing about being unable to meet was sweet and funny, and I think I'm hoping he'll win. Henceforth, I'm going to call him "Mongo", due to a shared love for of Blazing Saddles.

Guy #2 (refrigerator):
Married, no kids. He's new to this kind of rodeo, and I think he's going to chicken out. He hasn't told me his first name because it's terribly rare, he says. He's sent photos, and he's cute enough. He lives farther away, though will be moving closer soonish. We seem to have good enough chemistry. I think he's just the spare in case Mongo doesn't work out, which isn't really fair, is it? He wanted to meet tomorrow, but I've got family in town all weekend, so that's not going to happen. There will be other days. He can now be "Dude X".

It's a holiday weekend here, so my guess is that nothing will move forward on either front between now and then. I may get laid, though -- a couple I've enjoyed a few threesomes with in the past are having a birthday weekend for her, and I'm meeting them at a bar tonight and going to a BBQ at their house tomorrow night after discharging my kids on my mom. Updates as the situation warrants.