I have written a great deal about my relationship with my ex husband. In some ways, it was the failure of that relationship which prompted me to become a Literotica contributor.
Recently, Kevin and I have found another sort of relationship. We now talk, in depth. And from that I have learned more about him, me and what was us.
I have also realized that there are always at least two sides to everything. This is another side to many of the stories I have penned for this great, erotic writing site.
Chapter 1
It must have been some sight. An eighteen year old, gorgeous looking bird with a mane of wild, chestnut coloured hair propped up against the desk in an office with a thirty-year-old bloke. The girl, her legs open, her jeans round her ankles, and her sweater bunched round her shoulders was being fucked. The bloke, his trousers round his knees, his shirt open was hammering into her. It was their first fuck. They were doing it in the ad agency where the girl worked as a junior copywriter and where the thirty-year-old bloke was a client. The copywriter was breaking the first law of advertising, 'never fuck the client.' The client was being a bastard and taking advantage of the new, young, junior copywriter who, fresh from university, was working on her first account.
It was a bit of a fucking mess, but both were too into each other to care.
It was an equally wild sight. A twenty-year-old girl with a forty-five-year-old bloke. The same bloke, a different girl and a different place. This time, it was a plush car, a hotel room, her flat or anywhere really, where the young woman was getting shafted. Similar scene though, skirt round her waist, blouse open, tits out of her bra and me laying behind her spreaded legs, fucking her.
Hi, I'm Kevin; I married the first one Mandy and had loads of the second ones.
I never loved Amanda, but then I have never loved anyone and aren't really too sure what love is, other than it seems to be a fucking restraining order on what most men like doing most, screwing loads of birds. I did, and nearly every man I knew either did, or wanted to.
So, thirteen years of me and Mandy. Where have they gone? What happened, why did it all go so wrong? Simple, me and my dick: I just had to exercise it too much. So I exercised that, she found out, she forgave me, she found out, she forgave me; she found out, she kicked me out.
Simple straightforward and happening all the time. I guess on balance I did well, she only found out three times, there was, possibly, a hundred. That includes chicks I pulled, birds that worked for me (I considered it part of their induction to shag them), friends we had known for ages, hookers, massage parlor girls and, really, anything I could get my hands. Am I bastard or what? Don't answer that.
She was a good shag, Mandy that is. Not that adventurous, but really enthusiastic and a quick learner. But, she was too conservative. I tried to loosen her up, suggested swinging or partner sharing, but all that 'fell on deaf ears,' just as did my requests for anal. In the entire thirteen years we were together She only let me into that lovely, secret passage twice, and one of those was with my finger!.
I tried to get her to relive some of her peccadilloes that I knew she had got up to at uni with other girls, but that got nowhere, well not until near the end. In fact, I think that when I got her to agree to go with Jenny, that was the end.
I was 'relatively' well behaved during the first few years of our relationship. That was the year or so we 'went out', while she lived with her parents, the six months or so when she shared a flat with two other girls and the year or so we lived together before getting married. I even kept up my 'relatively good behaviour' in the first couple of years of that.
By 'relatively well behaved' I don't mean I didn't have bits on the side. Of course I did, players always do don't they? We can't help it; it's just the numbers that alter! So during that 'honeymoon period' with Mandy, I didn't actually go out of my way to seek it; I more, rather let it find me. And enough did to keep me ticking over. But then that was when I was building the business and was traveling, by myself most of the time, all over the world.
I was a buyer, I was a boss, I was businessman, I was a big spender and those sorts of things attract pussy just like honey attracts bees. So I had enough cunt, my fair share, I was happy, I had nothing to prove.
Oh yes, I had given up using whores, well a man has to straighten himself up a bit when he marries doesn't he? Hookers apart, I had women who worked for clients, women who worked for my or associated companies in places like Singapore, Bahrain, Qatar, Oz and the States, women who were also traveling on business (the easiest and the best by far to pull, excuse me, let come to me I mean, when on the road) and expats frustrated wives. All innocent, all just sex, all just bits on the side.
But back to Mandy.
After that first fuck in the ad agency where she handled my account, well actually she handled my cock, balls and other parts of me as well, we saw a lot of each other and I don't just mean without clothes!
I was building this oil-field equipment packaging business and needed an agency to write specialist ads to go in technical mags. I wasn't a big spending client, so I go the junior copywriter. If she hadn't been so fucking attractive I would have told the snooty account manager to shove it up his arse, but when I saw Mandy all I could think of was shoving it up her arse: that took five years in the end and may well have been the reason we stayed together so long. See I'm a patient guy really.
Chapter 2
At that time Mandy was slim. She had a gorgeous body. She was 5 6 or so and weighed less than 130 pounds. She had long, slender legs, a totally, flat stomach and nice little tits with wonderfully chewy nipples. And of course she had that great mane of wavy, shoulder-length, chestnut coloured hair that she had then that she kept all through our relationship and still has today.
Apparently, she had been studying English at Bristol University, but had got fed up and quit. Mum and dad as they usually do in such circumstances had firstly gone barmy, they so want to keep up fucking appearances that Mandy leaving uni, was, in their eyes as bad as her having a black baby!
But dad had connections and he used them. So, Mandy ended up as a junior copywriter in a well-known, West End ad agency. Sure, it paid peanuts, but it was a great training ground for a young bird, both in the practice of advertising, basically writing fucking bullshit and pretending you know more about everything than your client, and in life. London was far more swinging then, 1989, than it was in the time when it was famous for that.
So Mandy started learning about life in the big city.
I wanted to fuck her immediately Colin Blakeney-Smith, the Account Director introduced us. She was wearing a loose shirt outside her knee length, denim skirt that had, fashionably at the time, brass buttons all the way up the front. As girls did then, she had left several undone so that when she sat opposite me the skirt parted and fell away from her upper leg, which was crossed over her lower one. She had gorgeously tanned legs and seemingly bloody long ones. The tan had been gained as a 'reward' for flunking university by her overindulgent, snooty parents taking her to their house in Naples Florida for a couple of weeks, wankers.