Here is another installment in the chronicle of my times with Katie, a married woman with two and soon three children who had answered my ad on craigslist, whereupon we launched ourselves into a frenzied exploration of our erotic selves, many times with each other, once with another man, and once with another couple in a kind of foursome manqué. It was sordid and glorious. But I had growing misgivings about her and about my own judgement, the more so as I learned unsettling details about her other escapades.
Katie was not as discreet as I thought she needed to be. During breaks in our threesome, she told the other man tidbits about herself — the name of the small city she lived in, where she came from, that she was a published poet, this and that. It was enough for him to have learned her real name and address, everything, with a little effort at a computer keyboard. This is what I would have done. You may find this creepy but for me it is simple curiosity and a bit of due diligence. I told her this but she shrugged it off.
Of course I knew many things about her by now, and she kept divulging more. She told me about her craigslist dalliances with other men she had had before we met. She had hooked up with a local elected official, an older gentleman, a couple of times, and twice she spanked the ass of a crossdressing man and gave him a prostate massage. She was once on her way to a threesome when the man who had set it up fell ill, so she only sucked off the other guy as a kind of consolation prize. I can’t quite recall which of these details I learned from her at this time and which ones I discovered a few years later when I stumbled onto to a veritable catalog of her indiscretions that she had posted on a poetry forum. But she told me enough to unsettle me. Had I known the full extent of her dalliances, I might have broken it off.
Or perhaps not. I continued to see her even after I learned that from time to time she sucked or jacked off men for money. She would respond to their ads on craigslist and take it from there. This was for walking around money but mainly for the thrill, and for the sense of control it gave her. One of her poems I discovered years later spoke of “a pocket full of slut money” that “weighed heavy in my jeans.” I later realized it also began to weigh on her conscience.
I went to see her at a poetry festival where she was volunteering, right after I learned about the money thing. I asked, her, Why do you need those other men? I am hungry for more, I need more from you, and though I am poor I will give you money if you need it so much. She gave me a mischievous smile, handed me a newly released thin volume of poetry she had edited, led me to my car parked around the corner and gave me a blow job. Then she told me, I could never take money from you, and explained that she could not play with me alone; if she did, she would fall for me too deeply. She needed more than one place to stand or she would lose her balance and fall. She told me this again and again.
Falling — this is a good word for what I would sometimes experience with her, and less often with other women since her. Even before Katie there were moments while making love to a woman when my soul slips outside my body. It floats and looks down on our intertwined bodies from above, and I see beneath me every man and every woman who ever coupled — on the banks of a river in primordial times, in a hotel room in Venice, in a barn in Nebraska. I see it all and become one with every man and woman who has ever fucked or ever will fuck. More than that – beginning with Katie I sometimes fall into a metal state where I am barely aware of my surroundings, and speak in nonsense phrases — yes, yes, no no, why oh why, where, why, what is this? And I would speak in German. Wieso, warum, wo denn, wie kann das sein, how can this be? This has concerned or even freaked out more than one lover. Are you OK?, they would ask. Yes, very much so, I would answer. I never fell so far that I could not answer. Katie seemed to understand and give me this space. Of course she also wrote about it in some of her poems.
Katie knew a woman who would sometimes hire her to pass the night at her place and care for her cats when she was out of town. This was close to the town that Katie lived in. She invited me to mmm shall we say come see her on these occasions. She gave me instructions to park in front of one of the neighboring houses in that cul-de-sac, never directly in front of cat lady’s place. That is what we called her — cat lady. The cats scurried to their hiding places when I entered. That was fine by me; I was not there to visit cats. I enjoy sex even more when I am in a place where I know we will not be disturbed — no guests on the other side of thin walls in cheap motels will complain about the noise, no passing car will shine its headlines on our bouncing silhouettes in the back seat of the van, no cleaning crew will invade my office while I am mmmmm ‘working.’ Here we could both completely relax. The paleness of her skin, the pinkness of her sex and the hue of her nipples stood out brightly in cat lady’s living room. Once I took Katie from behind in the cat lady’s den, oh yes, and it was a good and long and hard fuck and when I came and pulled out, the opening of her pussy kept the roundness of its form as if my dick were still in it. I believe this is called gaping, or gaped. This vision is imprinted on my memory for all time. I was looking through the gates of Eden and that gate was Katie’s pussy.
What stopped us from continuing our affair was not a decision but an event: she became pregnant. Not by me, though it crossed her mind — I had had the fix years earlier — and not even by that guy she went ahead and fucked after intending only to suck him off for pay — yes, she told about that too. She feared the child would turn out to be his all through her pregnancy. The father turned out to be — imagine this! — her husband. Katie fell completely in love with the new boy and her erotic urges dissipated. We kept in sporadic touch via email, but I assumed her to be lost to me. I told myself that it was for the best, that I had even dodged a bullet or two, and sought to satisfy my erotic urges elsewhere. Little did I know that the pregnancy was only an interlude and much more lay ahead for me and Katie… much more.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/i3tswe/milf_katie_f_takes_me_m_to_cat_ladys_house_and