[F] I (F45) had a secret affair for 8 months. It revitalized my sex life with my husband [PART II: Set Up]

*** This is Part 2 of the self-exploration I started writing here: https://old.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/u33z2w/f_i_f45_had_a_secret_affair_for_8_months_it/***

Keith and I didn’t interact much for a while. We talked now and then but mostly during staff meetings or a quick hi in the halls. We talked enough to know we had many opinions in common, but we just didn’t see each other much during the day. The art room was two floors down from my classroom, where I stayed most of the day, even during lunch. I also liked to stay at school late to prepare for the next day, something I know irritated Scott because I was often out till past 6, when the kids started dinner. But I hate bringing work home. Anyway, by the time I would leave school Keith and everyone else were usually gone home.

You should know that those were tough years. The kids were still quite young, 5 and 8, and Scott was working hard all the time. My work was getting soul-crushing. I had started teaching years before and I was getting jaded. I had some friends on staff, other teachers under 50 who would sometimes join me for a drink on a Friday afternoon, but mostly my colleagues were ancient busybodies who stood in the way of any modern ideas about education. The principal was a joke, a jolly but ineffective man who was obviously afraid of the people working under him. Basically, nothing ever happened. I was getting exhausted by the never-ending pressure from idealistic but selfish parents. I could tell I was a little less patient with the students every year. Scott and I were a solid team, but with all the work and the kids and the routine… things were maybe too calm and predictable. Besides, we barely had time to ourselves anymore.

I’ve already mentioned that our sex life had changed. After our second was born I found that I wanted it less often, and I started feeling guilty because I was always turning down Scott’s advances. We did still have sex regularly but he obvioulsy wanted more than I did. He was patient with my diminishing interest and I wished I could work up the mood to seduce him spontaneously. Eventually, he had started asking less, and by the time Keith was hired we were down to maybe once a month. Every time we did have sex, it was great and we promised to do it more often. But time would pass and then it’d be a month before we’d do it again. Don’t get me wrong: Scott is a great lover, he made me feel amazing. Still does. Once we were fooling around I was fully into it. My problem was motivating to get the ball rolling. I just didn’t hunger for him the way I had when we were first together, and I didn’t feel like I was missing it at all. You know that overwhelming hunger you feel with a new lover, when you don’t think in terms of reciprocation, you don’t even think about giving your partner pleasure: you’re just greedy for his body, it’s all about you. I’ve thought about this a lot over the years.

When Scott and I were first together, I wanted to go down on him all the time. I wanted to so much that it was almost like I had to. I didn’t think about it, it was almost like my body was in control, anyway it was all I wanted. I was following some deep desire I didn’t fully understand. Over time, though, giving head became something I did for him, rather than for me (though obviously he got something out of it too!). I still liked doing it but now it was because I knew he liked it, because I love him and want him to feel good, not because my body was compelling me. This change wasn’t just about blowjobs, by the way. That was just an example. The change affected all aspects of sex, from initiating to intercourse. I felt bad about the sex Scott and I weren’t having, especially because he had just gotten a vasectomy that allowed me to go off the pill. We joked that we’d be having sex all the time now, and we did for a while but it didn’t last. Our sex life was starting to look like a kind of household chore, like deep cleaning the kitchen: something you think about doing all the time but put off. When you finally do it, you can’t believe you waited so long to make things so much better. But the pattern just keep repeating itself.

So I was working late at my desk a few months after my dreaded 40th birthday when someone knocked lightly at the door. I was irritated by the interruption because I only had a few more things to do before leaving. I looked up and there was Keith. I noticed that my irritation melted away. I asked him why he was still at work, and he told me he was setting up for this event we have every November called “Exhibition Night,” basically an art exhibit for kids to sell their drawings and clay mugs to parents. Keith hadn’t expected it to be so much work.

I told him it was an important lesson to learn as a teacher, not to be too ambitious. I used to into all these major projects, but by then I couldn’t be bothered. It never seemed to make a difference with anyone, and if anything it made my fellow teachers resentful.

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” said Keith. “Everyone says you’re the most devoted teacher they’ve ever met. All the parents rave about you. And the kids just love you.”
I don’t take compliments very graciously, and I waved his away with a blush.

“Anyway,” he said. “I’m heading out. Don’t stay here too long.”

I got home later than usual that night. The kids were done dinner and Scott had given up on waiting for me and eaten too. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he was irked. I made it up for him in bed. Instead of watching Netflix after the kids were asleep I told him to lie down on his stomach, gave him a long hard massage with oil, then at the end gave him a proper blowjob. He was surprised, to say the least. I almost never make him cum from oral, it usually takes forever, but I worked hard and within a few minutes I could tell was close.

I told him to tell me when he was going to finish, which was unnecessary because Scott knows not to cum in my mouth. He knows I’m not into it, though we’ve never really talked about it. My first serious boyfriend back in high school would never warn me and never pulled out. II went along with it for a while because I thought that was just what happened, but I didn’t really like it at all. After that guy I never wanted to do it with any other lover, including Scott. I sometimes considered making an exception, just as a surprise, but every time the chance came up I decided I’d rather not. Anyway, Scott finished and we cuddled and kissed and giggled together afterward. Scott was surprised and disappointed I didn’t want him to reciprocate, but he was asleep within minutes. I felt virtuous for being a good wife, but I also knew that part of my warm feelings were because of my 45 second conversation with Keith earlier.

From that evening on, Keith became a regular post-work visitor to my classroom. Not every day, but just about. He never stayed long, and sometimes our chats were a bit slitled. But I appreciated his company, and I found myself worrying that he’d stop dropping by. I didn’t need to. He kept coming throughout the winter term, spending more and more time preventing me from getting work done, and the amazing thing was that I didn’t care. No one noticed that my lessons were less well prepared. He always had something nice to say to me, mostly about what a great teacher I am, but as the weeks went by I noticed that he sometimes made lowkey references about me, my laugh, my personality, and sometimes my looks. He was never creepy about it, and never direct. I liked his attention.

This went on for months. I missed Keith when we didn’t see each other for the weekend or holidays. He really made going to work less dismal.

One night in March it was snowing lightly, the street outside my window looked still and beautifully like something from a Christmas movie. Keith came by as always but instead of staff gossip or small talk he suggested a walk around the block. I felt for the first time that a boundary was being tested. Before that, there was a crush developing between the two of us–it was obvious. But as long as we were just two colleagues chatting in our place of work, it seemed unproblematic. After all, we mostly talked about work anyway! But a walk was a new kind of dynamic, and I hesitated. I really wanted to, but I felt it would change something in a profound and unpredictable way. I wanted that, actually, but it was frightening nonetheless.

Keith saw my hesitation and said he didn’t know why he had suggested it, he had to be at his brother’s place soon anyway. I wondered if that was true, but I was thankful for this out. After he had gone, though, I was restless and a bit sad. I should have accepted. What harm could a walk do? I’d been cooped up in the classroom since 8:30 that morning, and a bit of fresh air would have hit the spot. I told myself not to let out my disappointment on the kids or on Scott when I got home, but I was cranky that night. I couldn’t sleep, and while Scott sighed and twitched beside me I let myself fantasise about Keith for the first time. I played out all kinds of scenarios starting with a short stroll in the snow. None of them were very realistic, but my mind was racing. I hardly slept.

The next day Keith wasn’t at work, I couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with my rejection. He was gone the next day too, and then the next. I asked my principal about it then, and learned that Keith had come down with a flu. It sounded too plausible to be real. But he was gone until the next Thursday. That was a hard weekend, and as the days of the week went by I got more and more worried about his absence.. I couldn’t deny it: I had a crush on Keith. It felt good to admit it, I’d been feeling unsettled and confused until I gave it a name. A crush: that was something normal, nothing too bad, just something that happened. I’m sure Scott had crushes all the time, though he never let on. He teaches university students–there’s no way he doesn’t sometimes take a shine to some smart, pretty young thing. If anything, what was surprising was that I hadn’t really had crushes on other people so far in our relationship. We’d been together since I was 23, 17 years. Of course I’d sometimes find someone I saw attractive, and my body would respond, but that’s not a crush. With Keith, it was about spending time with him, learning about him.

Thankfully he was back at work on Thursday, and when he dropped by my class that afternoon I immediately suggested that we go for that walk now. Keith glanced at the windows. The snow outside was long gone and it was actually quite gross outside, a grey drizzly day that had left the streets looking dirty. But he was into it.

We went around the block. I was very aware of the distance we kept between us as we walked slowly, talking about work as always. When we were in front of the school again we decided to walk a bit more. It was only 5pm. We walked several blocks aimlessly, taking turns now and then without any apparent plan or route. It wasn’t cold but the humidity and fine drizzle were insidious, and soon I was shivering. Keith commented on it once, then again a bit later, seeming concerned. Finally we stopped walking and just stood on the sidewalk chatting and shivering.

Reluctantly I said I should be heading home soon. I was freezing and it seemed that the walk had kind of run its course. I asked if he had to walk back to the school too. That’s when Keith told me he lived in the house we were standing in front to.

Oh.

I didn’t know how to feel. I was flattered, and kind of excited, to be here. But the obvious reality of the situation was scary, now that it was upon me. It would be so easy to follow the chain of events, I would barely have to make a decision. On the other hand, I felt that Keith had been a bit underhanded, and I didn’t like that. Part of me was also concerned with the time. I had to be home in about an hour. I tried to figure out why I was thinking about this. Was it a convenient excuse to walk away? Or was I legitimately starting to strategize? I did what I do best. I put off the decision. I had some thinking to do. I said we should walk a bit more. Just around the block or something.

As we walked, I noticed that Keith was letting his hand brush my arm. He knew he’d crossed a threshold and I guess he figured he had nothing to lose in being more direct now. I couldn’t feel anything through my coat, but I could hear it. Something was about to happen, or rather it would happen if I let it. I felt so conflicted. It’s so interesting how your mind works through a dilemma. I was thinking, what did I really want? There was no point pretending, to myself anyway, that I didn’t want Keith. I wanted him bad. But the question was, was I willing to give in to that desire, was I ready to face the consequences of giving in? I honestly couldn’t tell. It wasn’t even so much a fear of getting caught. I didn’t think I’d get caught. What worried me was how I would be changed, I mean deep down, by going along with this.

I noticed that Keith and I hadn’t said much in a while. We had almost come back around the block to the front of his house. The simpler, smarter thing to do would be to say goodbye, so why did that feel like the harder thing to choose. It’s so weird what you start doing to justify something you know is wrong when you want to do it. When I started convincing myself that I would just walk back to the school then drive home to my family, I started feeling resentful. The guilt I would feel from cheating on Scott, even just once, should have made my decision to go straight home clear and easy, but it had a completely different effect: it made me angry. Being faithful to Scott would prevent me from doing something I wanted with my whole mind and body. I wanted something so genuinely and so strongly–when was the last time I had desired anything this much?–and my responsibility to Scott was getting in the way. He was, I felt, stopping me from being true to myself! It was so unfair!

I know it makes no sense, but at the time the resentment felt very convincing. I had kind of forgotten how sexual desire warps your thinking, like a drug. Not that I had decided to go ahead with it. I was still wavering as we came around the block, coming closer and closer to Keith’s house again and the need for a decision. In a perverse attempt to level the playing field, a metaphor I would have scoffed at in any other context, I allowed myself to remember a time early in Scott and my relationship, when he had slept with his ex, a one-time thing that happened a few weeks into our relationship, before things were really serious. I had forgiven him almost right away and hadn’t thought about it in years, but now it seemed fair to drag that ancient history to light as justification to even the score. Then I told myself that he must have cheated on me again over the years, at one of those conferences he was always going to. As if he hadn’t! Never mind that I had never suspected him of that before right now. This line of thinking made it seem not only acceptable to go home with Keith, it made it seem like the only possible course of action. It actually seemed like the right thing to do, for myself. I knew that wasn’t logical or fair or right, but it worked.

When Keith asked me if I wanted to come in to warm up a bit, I tried not to look shaky or blush when I answered him. I said I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea or something.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/u3iww0/f_i_f45_had_a_secret_affair_for_8_months_it