My [F]irst Affair: The Soccer Player (Part I)

[Note: With the exception of changing his first name, everything else in here is 100% accurate, with absolutely zero embellishment or alteration.]

As I approached 30, I had made the decision to get out of my marriage. My husband and I had grown apart. We weren’t getting along well at all, there were old resentments that constantly came up, we did almost nothing fun together, and we had gone from nightly sex to maybe once a month. I felt completely taken for granted by my husband and the relationship was dying, so sit seem

I’m fairly curvy with big boobs and ample ass. Through running and yoga I had gotten myself into phenomenal shape that spring in anticipation of being back out on the dating market by the fall. I looked good and I knew it.

In June I was out with friends for a bachelorette party when a guy approached me. Dylan had dark hair, green eyes, and very obviously was in great shape. He was funny, confident, and flirty, and I loved his Irish accent and his Dutch soccer jersey. So we chatted for a while. Dylan mentioned he was a teacher at a suburban high school about 30 minutes away. Eventually my group of friends was moving on to another bar, so he asked for my number. I didn’t want to give it out in front of my friends, so I told him I was married. Dylan visibly was crestfallen to hear this, but smiled mischievously at me as we said goodbye.

I spent the rest of the weekend fantasizing about him, and then Googled his first name and the high school he taught at when I was back at work on Monday morning. His school had an employee directory complete with email addresses, so I emailed him apologizing for stalking him like that and for not giving him my number that night. Dylan wrote back the next morning, saying it was an honor to be stalked and lamenting that if I’d given him my number, he would’ve called me by then. I was absolutely buzzing.

Over the next week we exchanged witty email banter, talking bachelorette parties, soccer (both professional and his local pub team), favorite bars and beaches. The following Monday I got bold and offered that if he could guess what I did for a living, the first drink was on me. Dylan enthusiastically accepted this challenge, and after a pretty big hint, he eventually guessed correctly. I suggested that we meet on Friday night, as I had a going-away event for a coworker after work that would provide me a cover story.

It turned out Dylan had something scheduled that night for his soccer team at a pub right around the corner from where I’d be, but he didn’t know if he could duck out early. So I gave him my phone number and told him to text me if he was able to.

Every time my phone buzzed during that post-work get-together, I excitedly checked to see if it was him. I was giddy. Finally, I did hear from him. He could meet me in 30 minutes at a bar in another neighborhood, safely away from my co-workers and his teammates. I pulled my friend from work into the bathroom and excitedly explained what was happening.

My friend also was unhappily married, and had been dealing with her situation by having a fling with a co-worker and a number of one-night stands. I had been jealous of her for doing these things. Seeing her out there pursuing her own pleasure like that seemed pretty bad-ass to me. In retrospect, I wanted to be like her. And I knew she was likely to be supportive of my cheating, which is probably why I confided in her then. I explained the situation and told her that I was going to go meet up with Dylan. She encouraged me to go through with it, and I was out the door and on my way.

Dylan and I texted a bit on my 10-minute walk to the bar that felt like it took one minute. As I paused outside the bar, gathered my courage, and rode a wave of electricity through the door and into the bar.

Dylan was seated in a darkened booth near the door, just as he had described. I was relieved that he was just as attractive as I had remembered, and I remember thinking “He is totally cute and I am totally going to cheat on my husband with him.”

When he got up to greet me, I noticed he was on the shorter side, but at 5’3” myself, this wasn’t a big deal. Being a foot shorter than my husband caused enough complications in bed at home that I didn’t mind someone a similar height. He flashed his charming smile and I joined him in the booth.

He confessed he didn’t expect to see me again after I blew him off with the line about being married. I assured him I wasn’t making that up at all, and his surprised expression was priceless. He really had no idea I was married. We drank and flirted, and soon were making out in the booth. He was a great kisser and it felt amazing having his hands on me. But we both realized that this wasn’t the right venue for what we had in mind, so we paid our bill and left.

His apartment was about a 10-minute car ride away, so I jumped into his beat-up Corolla. It took a lot of restraint to not touch him while he was driving, so we talked music. He had excellent taste in music, which was a major turn-on for me. Soon we were at his place and I was following him up the stairs to the apartment he shared with two roommates and into his bedroom.

He put on Kaiser Chiefs and I sat down on his bed. In the dim light I looked around at what could’ve been a college student’s bedroom. But I wasn’t there for the decor. He came over and stood in front of me, and leaned down to kiss me. I unbuttoned his shirt and removed it to reveal the body of an athlete. He didn’t quite have a six-pack, but was otherwise very toned. After he removed my top, I helped out by undoing my bra, exposing my ample boobs. He clearly was a breast guy and loved what he was seeing.

He dropped his pants and I frantically slid down his boxers to reveal an already-hard, longer-than-average, but thinner-than-average cock that pointed straight out at a 90-degree angle. It looked amazing and I wasted no time, immediately taking him in my mouth.

Now at home I was getting a slightly-longer-than-average, thinner-than-average cock that pointed and curved almost straight up, making positions like reverse cowgirl and doggie very difficult to pull off. To make matters worse, my husband sometimes struggled to keep an erection, and had stamina issues. He often needed to stop every minute or so to keep from cumming, and typically wasn’t able to go any longer than 10 minutes. I did have great orgasms when he would fuck me with my vibrator while giving me oral, but sex was a stressful, frustrating stop/start race to grind my way to a clitoral orgasm on top before he came.

So I was into Dylan’s extra length and better angle as I licked the length of his shaft and worked on the head of his cock in my mouth. I admit I’ve never had the best blow job skills, so I was grateful that after a short time, he pushed me onto my back on the bed. As he stepped out of his jeans and boxers, I unbuttoned and pulled down my own jeans. The only clothing still on between the two of us was the sexiest black thong I owned that I had picked out for the occasion. He crawled on top of me, took the thong between his teeth, and pulled it off to in what remains one of the hottest moments I’ve ever experienced.

I know some women are self-conscious about their genitalia. I’m definitely not. I have a porn star pussy and I know it after the reactions it gets. Dylan looked like a kid on Christmas morning when he saw it, and told me I was gorgeous down there. He fingered me very briefly, but I was ridiculously wet and turned on — and clearly ready to be fucked. He asked if I was on birth control in hopes he could go bareback, but I said I needed him to wear a condom. If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it as he rolled on a condom and climbed on top of me.

At this point in my life, to say I was not a fan of Missionary position was putting it mildly. I liked being assertive in bed, and being under a man felt claustrophobic, submissive, and unfeminist. And my husband wasn’t any good on top, so we never did it. But Dylan was changing my mind about Missionary. I definitely noticed his extra length and his angle was hitting some good spots. It also didn’t hurt that he clearly was skilled at it and athletic enough to do it really well.

As I looked down and admired the awesome sight of him disappearing into me, I worked on matching his rhythm. This being our first time together and me not being very practiced in the art of Missionary, I was figuring this out as we went. We were a little out of sync and I was embarrassed when he slipped out a couple of times. But unlike at home where my husband falling out was an embarrassing reminder of his lack of skill, size, or hardness, this wasn’t a big deal and he just got right back to it without requiring any hands. It was incredibly hot. Especially the no-hands part.

After a while I could tell he was tiring a bit and he didn’t feel quite as hard as before. He pulled out and instructed me to get on my belly. I complied and glanced back to see him playing with himself to get hard for me. He eventually entered me from behind and it felt good initially, but he very noticeably was losing his erection again. I flipped around, and tried to get him hard with a hand job, but it wasn’t having much of the desired effect. I took him in my mouth again, and he got decently harder, but then he went soft again after only a couple of minutes of doggie.

He sat down on the bed and apologized. He explained that he was feeling guilt about sleeping with someone else’s wife. He had gotten divorced the previous year after his wife had cheated on him, and he was having ethical mental issues with doing that to someone else. I explained my marital situation and we commiserated a bit before we dressed and he drove me home. Before I got out of his car, Dylan looked at me playfully and said emphatically, “This isn’t over.” I kissed him goodnight and went inside.

To be continued…

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/aal4lb/my_first_affair_the_soccer_player_part_i