I’d had plenty of opportunities to stray. Both in college and with the triathlon club, I interacted with a lot of attractive, available women and other than the occasional spank bank fantasy, never went a step in that direction. We’d had some challenges, a miscarriage shortly after we hit the five year mark, but didn’t let that get in between us. I loved my wife as much as ever, even during her distress.
Note that I never really considered the dalliance with my neighbor to be an ‘affair’. Hell, we never even kissed! It was just a few erections (well, and a couple of orgasms) and that was that. Funny what we can talk ourselves into when we want to.
However, years later, after the successful birth of our child, my wife started shutting down emotionally. “I have more important things to worry about.” that sort of thing. She literally said that to my face several times, along with “It’s not important to me to look nice for you.” She went from a drawer full of nice Victoria Secret’s things to three for a dollar Wal-Mart granny panties, for example. Yet she would spend an hour in the bathroom fussing about her hair before she went to a book club meeting or sewing circle, because heaven forbid another frumpy, flabby room mother would see her with a hair out of place.
I figured this was an extended post-partum phase, so I waited. Eventually, though, I got tired, and after many one-sided discussions, we eventually just started living apart in the same household, and I became really really good at masturbating.
A year later, my next high school reunion was coming up and I connected with Anne, the girl from my earlier posts. She’d married, to a loud, obnoxious blowhard who wasn’t very smart.
So talking with her, innocently at first, but reliving our HS days, both of us, turns out those couple of sexual encounters had been indelibly imprinted in her mind as well.
She’d had a couple of kids, twin girls, which caused some strife between them, he’d wanted a boy, of course. He was a very macho guy, the kind who modeled his life after the misogynistic in Mad Men, the kind that pats every secretary in the office on the ass, thinking he’s All That. So she was wondering why he felt it was his god given right to have affairs while wifey-poo stayed at home.
My wife had continued to ignored me and all I did for her and kid, while working a second job on the weekend, I was feeling VERY taken for granted. And so when this cute HS crush who had had TWINS herself and was still rocking the bikini she wore in HS, and was all over me, making me feel great, emotions cascaded…
So an email a day turned into a couple, then several…. and then constant contact during the day. I would live for waiting to hear from her, and she the same from me. Sometimes trading over a hundred messages in a day.
There was a huge amount of emotion being exchanged, yet we had no thoughts of leaving our spouses, we were in fact adamant that we do nothing more than talk.
Until the wistful ponderings, wondering what might have been had we stayed connected after school, turned into a ‘what would it hurt if we met, just once’, after all, we were going to meet at the reunion, so….
They were out of town for a year, her husband was on sabbatical, and they decided it was a good way to get the kids a new experience. Still, they came back to town on occasion, for one reason or another. We arranged to meet, out in the open, to make sure everything stayed honest and above board.
Lunch with her turned out to include her girls, which was fine, it was thrilling to simply meet her in person. She looked just like her pictures, lithe body, sort of a preppie look, including a sweater over her shoulders with arms tied loosely at her neck. Her kids were just excited to be on an outing out of the ordinary, so they didn’t notice the knowing looks we gave each other, nor did they interpret the flirty motions she gave me, such as pausing for just a moment when bending over to pick up a napkin.
We ended up having another couple of platonic meetings like that, exchanging a close hug, sitting close to each other on a park bench, but nothing more, but our emails became more and more flirty, teasing, until she blurted out, one morning after a fight with her husband, and telling me how she had been dreaming of me, wishing she’d been with me, fantasizing of me the night before, “if you were here right now, I’d drop to my knees, unzip your jeans, and suck on your hard, your very, very hard penis. Because that’s how a woman shows a man she truly loves him.”
That sent me into another world, and our conversations immediately including an intimate component. She started describing intimate moments of hers, when she was in the shower, thinking of me, what she would be wearing, and how she got dressed imagining I was watching her. Of course, on my side, I told her how excited I became when she talked to me like that. One day as I was waiting for my kid to finish with breakfast, she sent a detailed description of her bra and panties, and I immediately told her how hard that made me, right there at the computer in the breakfast nook. She answered back, “every time you’re hard, I want to know. Every. Single. Time.” So that became part of our ritual, she’d describe herself getting dressed any time she changed clothes, in order for me to picture her, and I’d tell her how I was getting physically aroused.
Her husband had caught her emailing me a couple of times, and blew a gasket, telling her he hated how much time she spent on the computer, that if she had to talk to her HS friends, he’d rather she talk on the phone. So we started chatting on the phone once in a while, very much innocently, often with her kids nearby, so they could report that our relationship was completely innocuous. And so then if we’d talk during the day when they were at lessons, it would appear to be ordinary.
One hot summer afternoon, my house was empty. She called just as I got back from a ride, getting ready to go to work. I was still naked from my shower, and jokingly said it was too bad she wan’t here, I had just toweled off. “So you’re naked?” “Yup, bare as a newborn.”
She said that was too bad, too, she was all alone at home. We exchanged pleasantries about the weather, turns out it was just as hot there, she was in shorts and a tank. Then she turned flirty, describing in more detail how short her shorts were. The pair of tiny blue panties she was wearing. That it was too hot for a bra.
I admitted I was now even more sad that we weren’t in closer proximity. “You like that vision?” she asked. “Oh, yes, very much. In fact….” “Yes?” she responded. “Remember how you told me to tell you every time I was hard?”
“Are you hard now?”
“Oh, yes, very hard. I’m standing here in my office, and my erection is pointing nearly straight up, all by itself, imagining you flaunting your nearly see through tank and tight litle shorts.”
“You can add to that that my nipples are now hard too. You could see them right through now.”
I sighed audibly, and then there was a pause. Then I took a risk. “You know what’s happening right now?” It took her a second, then she caught on. “Are you? Are you really? Oh, I was I was there so I could see! Where are you in your office? Tell me everything!”
“I’m in my lazy boy recliner. Using my right hand and holding the phone with my left.”
“Tell me more!”
I described in more detail how I was stroking myself, imagining her watching me as she slowly pulled off her tank top, then unzipped her shorts, knowing how her striptease was turning me on even more.
She was quiet for a second, then said “I just went into my bedroom and laid on my bed. I’m on my back with my legs bent and feet spread. Should I unzip my shorts like you described?”
“Yes” I replied breathing harder. I couldn’t believe it, this was really happening! We had been so good, keeping even our intimate conversations no more than heavily PG-rated, but suddenly this, we were masturbating while on the phone with each other! This unexpected turn of events was just as exciting as the actual explicit descriptions.
She described how she wiggled out of her shorts, until they were down at her ankles, her feet now together but her knees far apart. “Are you touching yourself? Is your hand inside your panties”
“Not yet, I’m just touching myself on the outside, but I feel them getting wet.” “I wish I was there, I’d be on my stomach between your thighs, kissing them, making them wet from the outside too!” She laughed and sighed at the same time.
We exchanged more details. How she was using two fingers on the outside of her slit, working her lips against each other, thru the thin satin material. How I switched positions, backhanding myself and letting the palm of my hand graze of knob.
How she closed her fingers together, squeezing her engorged clit between them, and pressing the tips of her fingers against her panties, pushing inside. How I placed my phone on speaker, resting it on my chest, so I could use both hands, one on my shaft, the other alternating between tickling the tip and squeezing my balls. I thought about slipping a finger down between my cheeks, but didn’t know how she felt about anal play, so decided not to risk weirding her out.
Then we fell silent, interrupted occasionally by an “Oh god” or “I wish you were here” as we both continued our self-indulgence. Breathing became heavier, and by some unspoken agreement, we paced ourselves with each other, so that we approached the finish line in unison.
I don’t remember the details as we both hit orgasm, just that we were both surprisingly loud, me guttural with “Oh holy fuck….” and her with a high pitched scream of my name, and followed by more grunts and screaming.
It took a minute for us to catch our breath. Finally we were back down at ground level, took a big gulp of air, and embarrassingly admitted how unexpected that was – and how amazing it was. “Oh my god there’s cum all over my stomach!” “I wish I could see! I would lick it all up for you!” she giggled. “I think I might have squirted just a bit. My panties are soaked! I have to take a shower, I’m so wet!”
We chatted for a minute more, and then reluctantly agreed we had to go, even in the afterglow of orgasm. It wouldn’t do for one of our kids to unexpectedly show up home.
Had we cheated? Perhaps, perhaps not. But we knew we had turned a corner. If we met again, things would be different.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/g1lk5y/my_first_affair_and_my_first_phone_sex
How can someone think that that’s not cheating? It definitely is, plain and simple.
Nice story but definitely cheating man
Great buildup and great story!