Monday, November 13, 2006
Look how things develop
I’ve been having a bit of crisis of confidence. I wasn’t sure whether I should be so brazen. Playing my husband at his own game is all very well, but playing around does not come naturally to me.
I decided I needed some confirmation that I wasn’t a horrible or wicked person and that if couldn’t get what I needed from my own husband then looking elsewhere was natural. Bob was an obvious choice, but I thought of a far better candidate.
I headed into town and my favourite boutique. It was, thankfully, quiet and the familiar face of the attractive young assistant beamed back at me as soon as I walked in.
“What will it be today then?” she asked. I hesitated and said: “Something that will make me feel confident.”
It was her turn to pause and she finally said: “How about a cup of tea and a chat?”
It was the perfect response. I confided a few secrets to her (Angela, as I finally discovered her name is). I told her about my sex-free marriage, my errant husband, my decision to have some “fun” of my own and finally that I wasn’t sure whether a “frumpy, 30-year-old housewife” (that is how I often feel about myself) should be acting in such a disgraceful way.
Angela nodded her head, which I took to mean she agreed I was being a disgusting tart. I started to cry and she was quick to reassure me.
“I think you’re one of the sexiest women I’ve met,” she said. “I also wish I had your figure and your confidence. In fact, I do a bit of part-time modelling and I’ve suggested to the photographer I work with that you two should meet up.”
The tears quickly dried up. I told her she must be mistaking me for someone else and she shook her head: “No. The photographer is the husband of the woman who owns this place and he’s looking for another model to do some publicity pictures for the shop. I’m going to his studio this afternoon, you should come with me.”
I told her I wasn’t sure I was quite ready to be a model, but she insisted I should at least join her and meet the photographer and have a chat with him before deciding.
So, a couple of hours later, I picked up Angela in my car and we drove to this photographer’s studio. In the car she told me of the type of work she does for him, mainly clothes modelling for the shop. But then she giggled and said: “His wife doesn’t know that I also do some glamour stuff for him too. It is usually quite soft and not really full frontal, but it can be quite exciting. Jerry is a lecherous old bugger and his hands wander, but that is part of the fun. I’d get the sack if his wife found out.”
I don’t know why, but that piece of information suddenly got me interested and a little excited.
Jerry’s studio was in an old stable block next to his big house in the country. Angela said he used the gardens a lot as a backdrop, although they were due to do some glamour and lingerie shots today so they’d stay in the studio.
He wasn’t what I was expecting. He wasn’t at all smooth or suave, he was quite dumpy and overweight and I could see straight away that Angela’s description of him being a “lecherous old bugger” was spot on. Jerry was undressing me with his eyes as soon as I walked in.
Angela did the introductions and Jerry explained he was looking for a “nice and curvy girl” (his words) to model some of the shop’s new range of lingerie for some publicity pictures. I said I wouldn’t want anyone locally to know I’d done it, so wasn’t sure I would be the right choice. But he said the pictures were going to be used for a sale campaign in London and wouldn’t be displayed locally.
He asked me to take off my jacket so he could get a better look at my figure. He sounded his approval and said I was perfect for what he had in mind and when could I come in and do the shoot.
I told him to hold his horses and I needed time to think about it and he gave me his phone number and asked me to call him A.S.A.P.
I left Angela to do her modelling session and went back to my car. But by the time I got there I’d already made my decision. I wanted to do it, the only question I had was whether he would pay me anything.
I went back to the studio and overheard Angela say: “I told you she was fantastic, didn’t I?”
Jerry agreed and said: “Dead right. In fact, I’ve gone stiff just looking at her and that plumy voice of her’s is a real turn on. So before we get down to some shots, why don’t you help me with this?”
I head Angela giggle and peered through the crack in the studio door. She’d already unbuttoned her blouse and was just about to kneel in front of Jerry. I watched as she unzipped his trousers and reached inside to take hold of his cock. I suddenly felt really hot as she slowly sucked him into her mouth, rocking back and forth as his big meaty looking dick slid in and out.
He was by far the biggest man I’d seen and Angela was doing a pretty impressive job of sucking most of his cock into her mouth. I found myself wondering what it felt like and realised how turned on I was. I’ve never seen other people having sex before and I couldn’t believe how much of a voyeur I was. As much as I wished I was in Angela’s shoes, actually watching her having sex was proving just as much of a thrill.
Jerry wasn’t hanging about. He picked Angela up and led her over to the desk in the corner of the room. She bent over the edge, a position she was clearly used to adopting, and he pushed her skirt up over her hips and bum. He yanked down her panties so that they reached her ankles and felt between her legs.
Angela let out a delightful little yelp as he eased himself inside her. Jerry was grunting quite loudly as he began to take her from behind, but it wasn’t enough to drown out Angela. “Harder, come on harder!” she shouted in between screams and he duly obliged.
I was glad the house was so isolated because I couldn’t help myself. I crouched down and let my fingers explore my damp panties as I watched Jerry push harder and harder into Angela. I managed to finger myself to an orgasm just as Jerry pulled out of Angela and sprayed his stuff over her bottom cheeks.
I crept as quietly as I could away and hoped they wouldn’t hear my car start up as I left the driveway. I was still turned on by the time I got home and had another session on the bed with a few of my husband’s magazines before I took a shower and got ready to pick the children up.
Just before I left the house I phoned Jerry and arranged to go back to the studio next week for a few test shots. He asked me to bring a selection of my favourite lingerie and I heard Angela in the background shout a few suggestions of the some of the sets I’ve bought from the shop in the last few weeks.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Riding the dark horse
I’ve finally had my first work encounter!
It wasn’t Richard or any of the other usual suspects. It was Mal, the manager. He’s a bit like Bob in that respect – you really do have to watch out for the quiet ones…dark horses and all that.
He’s been a real gentleman since I started work and has been the only one who seems to remember who I’m married to – i.e. one of their bosses.
So that is why I was so shocked at what happened today. I’m pleasantly surprised, rather than angry though.
Everyone else was either at lunch or out with customers and Mal cornered me in the storage room. His hands were everywhere and he kept saying he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about me or what he wanted to do to me for days. I decided to play my part and be the shocked, slightly appalled woman – the respectable wife and mother not used to such language.
He was so apologetic, but I managed to get him back on track. When I asked what he meant by “doing things to me” it set him off again. He said he had this recurring dream of shagging me on his desk and I did my shocked act again. This time it just seemed to turn him on even more, which is what I wanted obviously.
He became more graphic in his description and I became hornier. I carried on playing the respectable, innocent wife but when he started to unbutton my blouse I let him carry on. He had a good old fondle of my boobs and I felt his cock growing in his trousers.
I was all set to get on my knees when the sound of the office front door sent him into a panic.
He left me in a state of high excitement and I straightened my clothes and slipped out to my desk before one of the younger salesman walked through into the back offices.
Mal avoided me for the rest of the day. But I’ll get him!
You can't keep a good man down
I’m really getting into the flirting side of things at work. But it can also be quite frustrating. I’d like a little action to go with all the talk.
That’s why I was so glad to bump into Bob this afternoon. It was a complete accident and I should be ashamed at what a tart I was but I needed some “attention” badly.
He was out shopping for his wife’s birthday and I couldn’t believe it myself when I suggested he bought her some sexy new lingerie and offered to model for him. I was about to apologise when he said: “I was thinking of a new cook book, but if you want to buy yourself something new then I’ll be happy to tag along and offer a second opinion.”
We headed off to my favourite little boutique and I was relieved to see the young assistant was alone in the shop. She gave me a knowing smile as I led Bob, who had come over all bashful, over to the lingerie section.
He picked out a rather tarty little ensemble and I asked the assistant if I could try them on. She responded to my wink by showing me to the changing area and whispered: “Husband?” I shook my head and she giggled.
I stripped off and put on the set Bob had picked out. I then called him over to give him a little peep of how I looked. He was joined by the assistant who said: “Oh yes, I think your wife looks fantastic in that sir.”
Bob went a deep shade of red and scuttled away. She then winked at me again and said: “If you ever need a hand, just ask.”
My heart skipped a beat. I was so horny I just wanted to call Bob back and do it there ands then in the changing room, with her listening (if not watching!).
Instead, I got dressed and decided to surprise Bob once we were out of the shop. I paid for the items and the assistant said: “Hope to see you again soon.”
As we left I whispered to Bob: “I didn’t bother putting any underwear back on.”
He grabbed my hand and we headed quickly to the car park. I had a summer-style dress on that buttons up the front and as he raced away out of the town centre I slowly started to undo the buttons.
Bob drove very quickly to a patch of waste ground near the railway line and parked his car behind a big line of trees. He was all over me, kissing my boobs and rubbing his hand between my legs. I managed to free one of my hands and felt the hard bulge in his trousers.
Once I’d released his cock he moaned: “Suck it.” I was happy to oblige. He was already stiff, so I grabbed the base of his shaft and lowered my mouth down onto him.
I’d never done anything remotely sexual in public before, it was such a thrilling experience. As I sucked him a train trundled by and I wondered if any of the passengers had been able to see us, hoping they could.
Bob’s car was a little cramped so he got out and scurried around to my side of the car, his erection leading his way. He opened the rear door and got me to bend over the edge of the seat. I knew if another train went by then anyone looking vaguely in our direction would get at least a flash of what we were up to and it turned me on even more than feeling Bob’s cock ease into me again.
He was a man inspired. He had a tight hold of my waist and was really pushing hard, jolting me forward with each thrust and groaning with the effort he was putting into it.
Sure enough a train did go by and it was slow enough to give anyone looking a few seconds of Bob taking me from behind. The noise of the train barely covered my screams as I reached orgasm. As Bob pulled out of me I sat down and took him in my mouth again. I drank down all he could give me and rubbed a few loose dribbles onto my boobs.
It all felt so deliciously dirty.
We made arrangements to have an evening in the company’s flat in a fortnight’s time – he was away on holiday next week – and then Bob dropped me back at my car.
What an experience! But the one thing that stuck in my mind was the boutique assistant and the look on her face that suggested what, exactly?
I’m not sure, but I want to find out.
You can't ask me that...!
We’re still in the “getting to know you” phase at work, but the boys are getting bolder by the day.
I’ve also been fantasising and day-dreaming like mad…I wish Bob and I hadn’t agreed to cool things a little, I could do with his special talents tonight!
I had to make do with myself and my increasingly vivid imagination. I’m surprised I didn’t wake the children as I got quite carried away lounging on the sofa and imagining all sorts while I waited for my husband to come home.
I was feeling horny enough as it was, but one of the boys at work got a little fruity this afternoon. Richard was celebrating one of his best weeks of sales with a few pints at lunchtime, so he was feeling quite cocky and sure of himself when he popped back into the office.
I was bent over filing some paperwork when he must have sauntered in. I didn’t realise he was there until he said: “I was wondering, are they stockings?” I turned around and he said: “I had you down as a tights woman, but they look suspiciously like the proper thing to me.”
I blushed a little and said he shouldn’t ask such questions of a married woman, especially when she’s the wife of one of his directors.
But Richard clearly wanted an answer. He said: “I’m not bothered about that, besides I’m doing a scientific survey into stockings and this is purely for research purposes.”
I rolled my eyes and he kept on protesting his innocence and pointed out that he asked most women he met whether they wore stockings, so I shouldn’t be worried about answering.
I gave up in the end and told him that, yes, I was wearing stockings and wore them most of the time these days as they felt comfortable and made me feel good. Richard scribbled something in a notebook he produced from his pocket and said: “I see, yes, now question 2. You said they make you feel good, but what effect do they have on other people?”
I rolled my eyes again and he said: “I’d like you to let me see for myself so I can gauge my own response.”
I told him he was naughty and asked whether he subjected the other women to such an approach. He nodded and so I asked how many fall for it. He said his “success rate” was about 75%, so I said: “I’m afraid you’ll have to mark me in the 25% category then.”
He looked suitably disappointed and about to leave when he turned and said: “I suppose taking part in my bra survey is out of the question as well then?”
I couldn’t help but belly laugh at his cheek and decided to offer him a ray of hope. “At the moment I’m a little busy. But maybe one day…”
He looked rather pleased with himself as he walked out of the door.
First time nerves
The big day arrived I felt as nervous as a schoolgirl on her first day. Ridiculous, I know, but I wanted to be sure that they liked me rather than sure I could actually do the job expected of me.
I don’t think I need to worry on either score. The actual work itself is very straight-forward and not at all taxing – just the right sort of job in fact.
Also, I didn’t actually get to fulfil one of my job requirements – making the tea and coffee – because I always seemed to have an attentive man around asking if I needed anything. I’m sure the novelty will wear off for them in that respect, but the early indications are that they were all very pleased to see me.
I dressed a little more discreetly than I really wanted. I didn’t want to go in with all guns blazing on my first day. But I think by the time my second week gets under-way, I’ll be revealing a little more of myself to the “boys” in the office.
Friday, October 27, 2006
More fun with Mayfair
I've been "man free" for over a week now and I'm missing the fun and frolics.
My husband's not-so-secret stash of Mayfair has been helping me in my hours of need. I'm really starting to enjoy looking at the women as much as reading the naughty stories - not all of them, mind you, just some of the more curvy ones. I look at them and wonder whether I have what it takes to take their place in the magazine.
I think I have the body for it, but I'm wondering if I have the boldness?
Yes, I am a very different person to the one who started writing this diary. But that doesn't mean I have become a total tart.
Having said that, my mind keeps wandering to next Tuesday when I start my new job and all those new men to impress. As I start to day-dream and fantasise, so my fingers start to wander around my body.
One door closes...another one opens
My seduction of my own husband didn't go to plan again. I must be doomed to fail.
But thanks to him getting completely the wrong end of the stick about my attempts to get him into bed, he's come up with an interesting idea.
He took my amorous attentions as an indication of how bored I felt. So he didn't suggest taking me upstairs for a damn good seeing to, instead he suggested I took a part-time job.
Apparently there is a vacancy for a part-time receptionist at one of the little sales offices his company has in town. I won't be working with him as he's obviously based at head office. I spend three days a week, from 10am to 3pm, answering phones, filing sales invoices and making cups of tea for the sales manager and team of salesmen based at the showroom.
I start in a week. Why am I so excited?
I know just what these salesmen are like and the new, naughty Patricia will love being centre of attention.
Better and bolder
This really has been a life-changing time.
Last night with Bob was even better than our first encounter. But we've agreed not to make this a regular encounter.
I'm not disappointed. I'm inspired.
I decided I would try to seduce my husband again, this time using some of the new techniques, adventurous attitude and boldness I've learnt in the last couple of weeks.
He won't know what hit him tonight...
Thursday, October 26, 2006
My new "routine" also includes going shopping for new lingerie.
There's a super little boutique in town and I've been in more times during the last fortnight than I have in the last year. Not surprisingly, the attractive young assistant is getting quite chatty and familiar.
When I picked out another lacy one-piece for Bob to enjoy tomorrow night, she asked: "I hope the lucky man appreciates the effort?" When I asked back: "What makes you think it is just one man?" she giggled in the most delightful way.
I said I wasn't actually sure about this latest outfit and couldn't wait to get home to try it on and asked if I could swap it if I wasn't entirely satisfied. She said that wouldn't be a problem, then bit her lip and said: "I think you'd look great anyway, so if you want to try it on here while we're quiet I won't tell anyone if you don't?"
I was admiring myself in the mirror - she was right, it did look good - when the assistant called out: "Is everything OK?"
I swept back the curtain and said: "I need a second opinion."
She looked a bit shocked at first, then let out that giggle again and said: "Give us a twirl."
I did as I was told and got a bit of a thrill out of modelling for another woman - I've clearly been looking at too many copies of Mayfair! She then told me to wait there and disappeared into the shop, coming back a short time later with a very racy bra and knicker set and telling me I should consider them too.
I gave a her a wry smile and had exposed my boobs before she bit her lip again and discreetly turned away. I told her to turn back and she let out a "Wow!" at how the set she'd chosen looked - I had to admit, they didn't leave much to the imagination but they showed off my body brilliantly.
I agreed to take both the one I'd chosen and the one she'd picked out and this time she watched for a little longer as I slowly removed my bra.
"Let me know if they have the desired effect," she said as I got ready to leave.
I winked and smiled and she giggled.
This really is a whole new way of living and opens up all kinds of new opportunities.
The world is full of horny men
As great as that night with Bob was, and no matter how much I can’t wait for next Wednesday’s repeat, I’ve realised today that I don’t have to restrict my adventurous new attitude.
There’s more than one horny man out there to satisfy the naughty me.
My new Sunday routine – husband at golf and children at grannies all day, me expanding my horizons with Mayfair – was once again interrupted just as it was getting really interesting. It was also a familiar face doing the interrupting.
That common, rough-looking but dishy electrician came calling again to check that the repairs he’d done last week were still holding up. Something told me it was a lame excuse. He’d told me the job had been very simple last week.
It was obvious he was more interested in me and I was in no mood to disappoint. Once he’d discovered with his unsubtle questions that I was alone and we wouldn’t be disturbed for quite some time, he became a lot more direct.
For the first time in my life I had a man tell me: “You’ve got the best looking tits I’ve ever seen.”
It was crude, but it was a huge compliment. His second comment was even more direct: “Can I have a look?”
It seemed churlish not to oblige!
Right there, in my own lounge with a stranger sitting wide-eyed and expectant in front of me, I stood up, untied my dressing gown and let it fall to the floor. He’s rather earthy exclamation would have horrified me a few days ago, but it just made me laugh out loud.
If I’d felt in control with Bob, then I felt completely at the mercy of the electrician – not that I was about to start complaining. Bob was thicker than my husband, but this chap was a good inch or two longer.
I was told to kneel in front of him and “wrap those beauties” around his thing…perhaps I’ve gone a bit too far to avoid writing the word “cock” now?
I did I was told and he told me to start “wanking” him with my boobs. As I did so he pushed my head down so that as his cock emerged from between my boobs I took the first inch or so in my mouth. He kept his hand on the back of my head, pushing me down onto him as he kept swearing over and over and telling me what a “great fuck” I was. No-one has spoken to me like that and it felt very good to hear it from him.
He was as stiff as he was going to get and he helped me off the floor and bent me over the side of the sofa. Whereas Bob had built up his speed, the electrician was thrusting in hard and fast from almost the word go. He also reached forward and grabbed my boobs as they swayed beneath me and was grunting all the while.
He kept going until I had reached orgasm. Then he pulled out, told me to take him in my mouth again and held my head in place as I sucked his cock. I kept sucking until he cried out, I felt him twitch and then tasted what was coming out of his cock. I swallowed some of it, then released him from my mouth and he sprayed the rest over my boobs.
My night with Bob had been long and sensual in comparison with what was at most a 30-minute encounter with the electrician. But the enjoyment level was just as high.
The electrician dressed and left suggesting I give him a call if I wanted anything else “seen to” and I headed up to have a long soak in the bath.
What am I becoming? Whatever it is, I’m enjoying every filthy second of it!
Naughty night classes
I had planned to write this up last night when I got home and my parents had left. But I was too exhausted!
What an amazing experience. I’ve never felt so dominant, powerful and in control. Bob would have done anything for me last night.
We were both so nervous when I arrived at the flat. I’m not sure either of us really knew what to say or do. But when he told me he hadn’t stopped thinking about the strip show I’d given him in his office and I asked if he wanted another one, we just did it.
I couldn’t wait to start stripping for him again and this time I didn’t need a strong drink. The only stiff thing I wanted belonged to Bob and he was happy to oblige. I’m getting used to be so honest and so brazen, it is such a great feeling to be so naughty and not have anyone disapprove…including myself!
I think my strip-tease this time was a lot sexier. It didn’t seem to last long before Bob reached out to touch me, but it still felt great. What also became clear was that he wanted to please me, something I’ve not really experienced for a long time with my husband.
I’d stripped down to my panties and stockings when he stood up and slipped his hands around my waist and kissed me. His hands moved up to my boobs and he squeezed them softly before lowering his mouth and kissing them.
I could feel the bulge in his trousers pushing against the top of my thigh and was a bit disappointed when he got to his knees that his thing was out of touching reach for me. But my disappointment lasted barely a second as I felt his hand caress my inner thigh and then his tongue down there.
My husband hasn’t been anywhere near there for years. As Bob started to explore me with his tongue I thought I was going to faint. My knees were buckling and he helped me on to the sofa and quickly removed his shirt and trousers before resuming his position between my legs.
I’ve always felt a bit self-conscious about expressing my enjoyment during sex, but what Bob was doing to me changed all that. I felt like I was screaming, but I know I wasn’t that loud. He was gently massaging my boobs with one of his hands as he worked his tongue on me. I felt to wet down there, much wetter than I remember being before. I was grabbing hold of the sofa cushions and pushing my pelvis up to try and get his tongue deeper inside me. I’ve read so many articles in Cosmo saying most women have never experienced a “proper” orgasm and didn’t believe them – now I know it was the truth.
It was going to be a night full of “first times” for me. Bob finally moved from between my legs and slipped out of his underwear to reveal that big, thick thing again.
He kept moving up my body and I didn’t know what he was doing. He sat astride me, put himself between my boobs and pushed them together over his shaft. He them started to push back and forth between my boobs – something my husband has never done. It felt amazing and judging by his face and the noises coming from him, Bob was enjoying it too.
I loved it when the tip of it appeared at the top of my cleavage. Bob then whispered: “Take me in your mouth” He moved further up and pushed it towards me. I haven’t given oral sex for ages and as soon I felt him in my mouth I remembered how much fun it could be.
I took hold of the base of it and began sucking like crazy. He felt so different to my husband. I thought they were all pretty much the same, but he was much thicker and felt much harder.
I just wanted to feel him inside me down there. So I pushed him onto his back and this time I sat astride him. I lowered myself down and this time I did scream. He really was thicker! But it felt incredible and as I began to slowly ease myself up and down I got used to it quite quickly.
Bob started fondling my boobs, which tend to have a life of their own when I’m in this position. He had such a huge smile on his face and the faster we got the louder our moaning and laughing became. I also had another orgasm and it felt even more powerful than the first.
I was so glad I hadn’t stopped taking the pill a few months ago. I couldn’t see the point as my husband and I were having sex so infrequently. But Bob couldn’t hold back and he pumped everything he had into me.
It felt wonderful. We just sprawled on the sofa for ages. He kept nibbling at my boobs and nipples and fingering me and I had my hand curled around his thing almost the entire time.
I would have been happy enough with that, but Bob hadn’t finished. He was getting more aroused again and I could feel him getting stiffer in my hand.
His finger was working inside me and I wanted something bigger. He told me to kneel on the sofa and lean over the arm, pushing my bum out towards him. This was the position I’d read so much about in Mayfair, but it wasn’t one I’d ever done with my husband.
Feeling Bob’s strong, hot hands on my body as he eased himself into me from behind felt so good. He seemed even bigger and thicker in this position and as his thrusts got faster and harder so I got louder. I had a fleeting thought about disturbing people in the neighbouring flats, but that was quickly forgotten and I just let myself go. I was biting down on the arm of the sofa or throwing my head back yelling my encouragement as Bob pushed into me. He was jolting me forward with each thrust and I felt so naughty and so turned on.
I reached a third orgasm and couldn’t help but giggle myself…you wait years for one and then three come along at once, just like buses!
Bob and I agreed to meet same time, same place next week. That will give me plenty of time to buy another new outfit to treat him with and pick up a few more ideas from my husband’s dirty magazines.
I’m learning so much at my naughty night classes!
DD Day looms large
In less than 24 hours I finally get to show my great body off to another man again. I can’t wait to have Bob drooling over my boobs again.
I’ve been out today and bought even more sexy new lingerie, this time especially for Bob and not my husband.
My parents are due here at 6pm tomorrow evening to baby-sit while I go off to my new “night class”. I’ve told everyone I’m learning French for when we go over the Channel for our holidays each summer. Predictably my husband things it is a waste of time, but isn’t exactly going to protest.
He’s away on business tomorrow night. So no doubt he’ll be getting up to something naughty, so why shouldn’t I do the same?
Bob has phoned to say he has the keys to the company flat in town. It is supposed to be for hosting important clients, but everyone knows the directors use it to take their floozies.
I was glad to hear it was the first time Bob had ever been there. I was also excited about the fact that I was his floozy!
Liking the new me
I’ve had real trouble concentrating on anything these last couple of days. All I can think about is that encounter with Bob in his office.
I’m literally counting down the hours until next Wednesday when we meet up again. For the first time in a very long time, I’m feeling sexy…and I’m feeling myself!
I couldn’t wait to have the house to myself today for that very reason.
As soon as my husband had packed his golf clubs in the car and then packed the children into the back seats to take them over to his parents, I knew I had the house to myself all day and couldn’t help but laugh to myself.
They left at 10am and they won’t be back until 6pm – if I give myself an hour to prepare dinner then that still gives me seven whole hours to indulge myself.
I had already had a plan. As soon as my husband’s car pulled off the drive, I headed to his study and went to the bottom drawer of the little filing cabinet he keeps in the corner. I’ve known what he keeps in there for years, but he still thinks it is a secret.
He’s been collecting copies of Mayfair for ages, so I picked up as many as I could and headed upstairs. He once told me he bought them as much for the sexy stories and confessions as the pictures of women, so I decided to find out if he was lying about that too. I also knew I might pick up a few ideas for my next meeting with Bob.
It was a real education opening that first copy. I didn’t think I would be affected by the pictures, but I found myself lingering on a few. They can be very sexy and stimulating – I can’t believe I’ve written that, but it is true.
But, surprisingly, he was right about the stories and confessions. They were pretty graphic and I found myself wanting to be the subject of a few of the articles I was reading.
I had lost all track of time when I was suddenly aware of the doorbell ringing. I wasn’t exactly ready to accept visitors! I was sprawled on our bed in just my dressing gown, enjoying a particular story.
Whoever was at the door was persistent. As a few of the windows were open and the garage door was open, it was obvious someone was at home.
I thought it might be urgent so gathered up the magazines and stuffed them under the quilt, straightened my dressing gown and headed downstairs.
I had completely forgotten that my husband had arranged for the electrician next door had recommended to come by and have a look at one of our faulty light fittings. I reluctantly let him in, but within a few minutes I was so glad I had. He was a bit, how do I put this without sounding snobbish…common! But he was also quite dishy in a rough and ready sort of way.
It didn’t take long for me to twig that as we were speaking, he was addressing my boobs and not my face. Ordinarily, of course, I wouldn’t have answered the door whilst so exposed. The thin material was clinging in all the places I would normally feel embarrassed about, but I’m slowly becoming a changed woman.
I liked the fact he was leering at me, assessing my figure and no doubt having rather inappropriate thoughts about me. He was only here for 20 minutes or so, who knows if he’d been longer and carried on being so obvious I might have treated him to the kind of show Bob had enjoyed last week…I can’t believe I’ve admitted that either.
Anyway, he left and I went back upstairs for a few hours more reading and fantasising.
I’m beginning to like the new me.
Monday, October 23, 2006
A stripper is born
This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
Admitting my life isn’t perfect is a huge step. The fact that the problems relate to my marriage make it worse.
Everyone believes we’re the dream couple, but we just live in the same house these days and keep up a charade. I can’t remember the last time we had a truly intimate moment, in any sense of the word.
I’ve been agonising for months about it all and when I’ve tried to talk to him he just puts up the barriers or twists things to turn the spotlight back on me. According to my magazines, it is classic behaviour of the adulterer.
I didn’t think he was capable of being unfaithful and kidded myself for so long. But now I know. He has a regular “mistress”, that blond bitch from marketing, but he’s also been having one-night stands on his frequent business trips away.
So what do I do to get things back to normal? I’ve got my figure back after months of dieting and exercising. I look better than I did when we first met, or at least I think I do, but he hasn’t noticed.
That’s why I kept turning back to Cosmo. I needed inspiration, I needed ideas.
Nothing was working. But this last one seemed the most drastic, the most daring, the most likely to succeed.
It was also the most simple – act like the tarts he’s been sleeping with instead of myself. Cosmo even provided the check-list and plan of action – new, sexy lingerie that best shows off my figure and in the colour that drives him mad (check); a pair of stilettos to match the lingerie (check); a raincoat that drops down at least as far as the knee (check); new hair-do (check); bold make-up (check).
Drive to office when he’s working late (check); make your way to his office (check); surprise him, whip open the coat to show you’ve nothing on but the lingerie and let him ravish you there and then (failed).
The magazine didn’t say what to do if he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. I guessed he was with the blond somewhere.
I headed back to the lift when a familiar voice called out: “Is that you Patricia?”
I wanted to ignore it, just get in the lift and go down to my car and cry. But the second: “Patricia?” was closer. I turned to see Bob, one of the other directors, now only a few feet away.
We’d met several times, all at company functions where the senior managers and directors got drunk and us wives got dressed up simply to carry our husbands off to bed as they were incapable of walking. Bob had a reputation for being a bit strait-laced, a little too dull, not really “one of the boys”. Perhaps that’s why I’d always got on better with him than my husband’s other colleagues?
I still wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, but Bob was being his usual helpful self. He insisted on taking me down to his office and checking to see whether he could locate my errant husband – fat chance, but as ever I was too polite to stick to my guns and do what I wanted.
I dutifully followed him and watched the painful attempts of Bob to cover for my husband – he clearly knew where he was and who he was with. Frustration go the better of me. I snapped in a way I can’t ever remember doing before.
“Oh for goodness sake Bob, I know he’s shacked up with that tart somewhere. Stop trying to fool me.”
Bob looked as sheepish as he looked surprised at my little outburst. I apologised and that sparked the tears. It wasn’t a full breakdown, just a little sob. But it was enough to get Bob fussing again, offering cups of tea or coffee and tissues.
I said the best thing I could do would be to head home for something stronger. He paused momentarily, reached into one of his drawers and said: “How about one of these?” as he pulled out a bottle of scotch.
I’m not a whisky drinker, but my immediate thought was: “Why not?” So he poured out two tumblers and apologised for not having any ice or water. I told him not to worry, the stronger the better, and downed it in two gulps.
Bob offered another shot. I nodded and he poured a little more than the first one, but this time took a more lady-like sip.
We did the polite, British thing and chit-chatted over our drinks. It was a warm evening and the office was very stuffy. Ordinarily I would have at least loosened my coat, but under the circumstances I kept it fully buttoned and tightly belted. It wasn’t lost on Bob, who offered to hang my coat up for me.
I told him I would need another large shot of scotch before I’d be in a position to do that and not surprisingly he looked confused but let it drop. We chatted some more until I asked him a straight question: “Is he with her?”
Bob didn’t need to answer. He flushed a deep scarlet and looked away. I gulped down the remainder of my drink and asked for a top-up. I sipped some more and we sat in silence until Bob asked: “So, have you now drunk enough to take off your coat.”
The answer was I was more than drunk enough to unbutton my coat. There was still a moment of hesitation – the respectable, dutiful wife I am prevented me for a few seconds – but the scotch was a powerful persuader. I downed the rest of the glass and stood up smiling.
“Now, Bob, I want you to know I don’t always go out of the house like this. I’m only doing it to try and seduce my own husband. But as he isn’t here, I guess it would be a shame not to let someone appreciate it.”
Bob looked blankly at me. But his eyes soon widened as I undid the belt and start to loosen the buttons.
I had really splashed out on the new “outfit” that had supposed to be for my husband’s eyes only. He goes wild for black silk or satin lingerie – what man doesn’t? – with matching stockings. I have always had a curvy figure and now I’ve lost weight and trimmed down my boobs and bum in particular look fantastic. I’d opted for a black, lace one-piece, which showed off plenty of cleavage and also moulded to my hour-glass figure. I’d also spent more on the sexiest silk stockings and discreet suspender belt I could find than I’d spent before.
It was all money well spent, judging by Bob’s face. My coat was on the floor by my feet and I perched myself on the edge of the desk, bending forward to give Bob a view of my boobs.
"So, what do you think?" I asked him. "Is my husband a fool for missing out on this?"
Bob just nodded in agreement. I was a lot more drunk than I realised. I must have been because I then asked Bob if he wanted to see more. Again, he simply nodded.
I did a slow, what I considered to be sexy and sensual (but was probably quite stumbling and drunken) striptease until I stood before him in just my stockings and suspenders. I walked over to him and told him to get out from under his desk. He did, quite sheepishly, and I discovered he'd sneaked his hand inside his trousers and was now holding a rather stiff looking cock. I was amazed, I'd only ever had sex with my husband so this was only the second cock I'd seen in the flesh.
Bob's looked thicker than my husband's. I was fascinated. I sat on the desk in front of Bob and reached down and took hold of him. He groaned his approval as I started to pump my hand. I got faster and faster until Bob yelled out and my hand and his cock got covered in his warm, sticky, creamy stuff.
I didn't say anything else. I just picked up my lingerie, put on my coat and did it up and headed to the lift.
It was only when I got to my car that I realised I was too drunk to drive. Bob then appeared, red-faced and breathless (from running after me, I think) and offered to drive me home. He suggested driving my car, so I didn't have to leave it there in case my husband saw it and he would then get a taxi back to the office.
We didn't speak much, if at all. Bob drove me home and waited outside after I'd phoned for a taxi.
I showered, went to bed and woke up this morning with a really bad headache and a feeling of dread. I couldn't believe what I'd done.
My husband went off to work before I got out of bed and I made sure the children got to school before sitting on the sofa and wondering what I should do next. I'm 31, married with two children and I feel like a silly schoolgirl.
The phone went. It was Bob. He said he wanted to see me again and "finish what we started".
I put the phone down without answering. I phoned him back ten minutes later and we've arranged to meet next week when my husband is away on business and I can get my parents to look after the children again.
Roll on May 14...
Sunday, October 22, 2006
So it begins...
The late Patricia was not exactly a pillar of the local community, but she was certainly well-liked and respected.
I only knew her for a few months before her untimely death and first impressions were of a classy, intelligent, witty lady.
It is now almost five years since her death and it was only a few months ago that I made it into the far corner of the attic of the old family home to clear stuff out and make space for a conversion project.
In a sealed cardboard box I found Patricia's diaries, some old photo albums and a few very early video tapes.
Luckily, my wife, who was very close to her relative, wasn't at home. My first instinct would have been to show her.
As it was I was reluctant to intrude in Patricia's private thoughts and felt it better to leave the diaries to my wife to open. But I figured there would be no harm in looking through a few old family photo albums.
Only they weren't family photo albums. They featured Patricia, but nothing like the Patricia my wife would have known.
The album was full of glamour-style, soft core porn pictures of Patricia - at first I felt a bit ashamed at how turned on I was, but that was before the bigger revelations and I have no such qualms these days!
She looked amazing. She must have been in her 30s and early 40s when the photos were taken and Patricia had a figure I can only describe as "voluptuous". She had a trim waist, but all the right curves. She looked very much like other 70s and 80s glamour girls - if a little older - with big hair, big boobs and a big bum.
I moved downstairs to take a look at the video tapes, not knowing what else I would find. The first was too old and corrupted to offer anything other than a fuzzy screen.
But the second was a real eye-opener. It was Patricia in a home-made porn video with a younger looking bloke. The third tape offered more of the same with a different man.
I realised there was no way I could show this stuff to my wife and I would have no choice but to read the diaries before I could even think of showing her them either.
Needless to say, the diaries are still a secret from my wife. They form a graphic written record of Patricia's sexual adventures over a 15-year period.
In one of her earliest diary entries, Patricia states: "I wish I had the courage to reveal my secret. It would be such fun showing everyone the real me."
So I feel justified in starting this blog. I'm hoping she would have got a kick out of it and would have written it herself, given the chance.
Read on and hopefully enjoy...
(PS: For the record, Patricia wasn't her real name).