This is not a sensational story. There is no extreme sex or outlandish characters. It's a simple story of a frequent occurrence between fairly ordinary people; me, a forty year old married woman and Jack a forty five year old married man.
Yes, it's about an affair.
It's about the reasons why they happen, it's about the emotional as much as the physical aspects and it's about the, possible, inevitability of affairs, such as mine, increasing enormously in the twenty tens and teens of this century. But at its heart its about loving two people at the same time!
Bits on the Side; An anatomy of an Affair.
By
Catherine Moore
aka to her friends as
Cat
*
I grunted as it slid into me, but then I often do. In fact I suspect that most women do. After all, it is one of the loveliest feelings anyone, well any female at least I'm not sure about men, can experience: a cock slipping up you that is.
I was on my side facing away from him. It was fairly late, nearly midnight, I was tired and he had been drinking. Not heavily to the point of being drunk or performance inhibiting, but to the level where inhibitions are reduced and ambitions are increased. I knew that would mean that he would want a bloody good shag and that he would be unlikely to take no for an answer. So I didn't say no and we did have a bloody good shag. But then that is the role of a wife.
I always sleep naked. I had gone to bed after News at Ten, when I had imagined the gorgeous Julie Etchingham and the ridiculous James Mates fucking on that big desk they now use as part of the set. I hadn't masturbated, as I often do when Richard is due to be home late, but had quickly fallen asleep. When I felt a hand cupping my breast I wasn't sure who it was, James Mates, my husband or even the gorgeous Julie! I quickly realised it wasn't her, though, when I felt an erection pressing against my bum.
"It's late," I groaned as he squeezed my breasts and gently pinched my nipple.
"Yes darling, but never too late for this," he went on pushing his cock against my bum.
"Oh Richard,"
"Oh Cat," he mimicked.
He started to push his cock between my legs. I opened them a little to give him easier access. Although I wasn't one hundred per cent up for such late night sex when I had to be up early to get to work, I had never refused my husband and didn't want to start now. I wasn't that sort of wife.
"Mmmmm nice," he whispered as the tip of his cock found my lips. He slipped his other arm round me and ran that down my stomach onto the patch of neatly trimmed pubes which were shaped similar to, but not quite, a landing strip, a fashion I had only recently learned about. "I like that," he murmured stroking me there. He pushed it further and found my clit, which is quite pronounced and easy to find for the folds are not deep. My body shuddered with the surge of sexual feelings. I assume that made me wet for he then slid effortlessly into me making me grunt.
++
"Take it off."
"No, I can't here."
"Why not, no one will see."
"What if someone comes along."
"Just pull your top up, after all darling, your tits aren't that big," Jack smiled playfully flicking one with his fingertip. That was true, but they are a respectable 35 D or so, a proper handful as Richard often terms them.
I smiled. We were in Jack's car. It was early evening after work and he had given me a lift, as he sometimes did when he was in the office at the end of the day. Being the Client Service Director of the Marketing Agency for which I worked part time, that wasn't very often, probably once a week on average, but when he was, he gave me a lift and we snogged in his car.
He hadn't been in the office when I left work for about ten days or so for he had been away on business. That meant that not only had we not had our evening snogs in the car, but also that we hadn't had sex for some time, too long for sure. In fact we hadn't 'slept' together for getting on for a month for I had been on holiday just before his business trip.
We had found a very secluded spot, which was on our way home, we didn't live far apart. We had stopped there several times and no one had ever come along and we hadn't been disturbed so we had become more adventurous and recently had started getting into the back seat of his Merc.
"God I've missed you Cat," he whispered just before we kissed.
He was a good kisser, probably better than Richard I thought, immediately admonishing myself for making the sort comparison a mistress should never make between her lover and her husband.
He pushed me back into the corner of the big, leather seat. His mouth was on mine, his hand went to my breast and I felt his erection pressing against the outside of my upper leg. We kissed deeply, it was exciting and enjoyable.
His hand went into my shoulder length, ash blond hair and he ruffled that as I stroked the side of his smooth face. He always felt and smelt so nice, things I had recently found I like in a man.
As I had no client meetings scheduled for that day I was not wearing a suit, my normal business garb. I wasn't 'dressed down' for the agency had been there, tried that and had reverted. We did, though, have a 'relaxed' dress code which precluded tee shirts, jeans, shorts and that sort of thing. It was largely left to the discretion of the staff for the management stressed 'Dress so that if necessary you could meet a client.' Though well intentioned that announcement produced a torrent of emails recommending what many of us female staff should wear for particular clients, with black lingerie, basques and stockings and, of course, nothing featuring highly for all. A tight or wet tee shirt was suggested a couple of times for me. PC hadn't arrived at our agency.
I was wearing a pink, vee necked, cashmere sweater with a black, knee length, pleated skirt. Smart yet relaxed was how I thought I looked and was how I felt. The skirt, though not flared, was fairly loose and as Jack pushed me back in the seat so it, of course, rode up my thighs. Despite it being mid October, the weather was still quite warm and as Richard and I had just returned from a week in our house in Florida, my legs were nicely tanned so I wasn't wearing tights.
As our kiss progressed so his hand had slid inside my sweater. It felt good as he firstly caressed my boob through my bra then, after easing it out from its restraining cup, the bare skin and my nipples.
That's when Jack had said "Take it off." It's also when I, without a great deal of conviction, had demurred. It was also when after demurring to salve my respectability, I reached round behind me, unclipped the bra, removed it and pushed it into my bag. The soft cashmere felt nice on my tits.
We kissed more as he fondled my boobs and I undid his shirt so I could feel his fairly hairy chest with my fingers.
He rolled my sweater up and pushed his chest against me; that felt good. He kissed my tits and sucked my nipples. His hand went up my skirt and mine went to his erection. We were very worked up and were getting carried away. His hand was between my legs rubbing my clit and lips, mine had fumbled inside the waist band of his trousers and had found his erection. He had undone his belt, I had pulled his zip down.
"I have to fuck you Cat," he groaned thrusting his cock into the surrogate pussy I was making with my hand.
"We can't here," I moaned back wishing that we could.
We had made each other cum with our fingers and once with our mouths in his car, but we had never had full sex in it. Summer affairs with the long light evenings aren't that conducive to outside sex and we had mainly used hotels for our pleasures.
"It's ok, it's safe," he retorted pulling on the waist band of my panties.
"It's not, anyone could come along."
"We would see their lights miles away," he pointed out.
I then realised that it was the first time we had been in the car here in the dark, for the clocks had just gone back the previous weekend. We had only started the affair in May so we hadn't had the opportunity for 'snogging in the dark.'
As he continued pulling on my panties, I slowly raised my bum from the seat. They slid easily down my legs and off. They joined my bra in my bag.
Although awkward, although complicated and although requiring a level of dexterity I probably no longer had, we had an exciting and very satisfying fuck in his car.
++
I had recently gone back to work.
We didn't need the money. Richard was very successful and was paid a large salary and huge bonuses. We had a nice house in Barnsbury, North London, a holiday home in Florida, miles and miles away from Disney, and a half share in a villa in Tuscany. We both drove nice cars, I had all the clothes and other female goodies and playthings I wanted and I had help in the house. We had two children who were both doing well at school preparing to go on to university, we loved each other and we were faithful.
Well I think we were, even though I had suspicions that on his very frequent business trips he strayed. As a corporate lawyer working mainly on big mergers and acquisitions there was ample opportunity and I knew full well that the New York office of their firm did, at times, employ hookers for would be clients.
Nevertheless we got on well together.
His job was terrifically demanding; murderous hours, an incredible overseas, mainly the US, travelling schedule, lots of entertaining and functions and 'closings' on deals that often went on well into the wee hours. I was awfully impressed with the way that he handled his work.
He was a great father even managing to schedule attendance at the more important school events of both our son and daughter and he never forgot birthdays or our anniversary; he was a very effective organiser.
I had recently started golf lessons.
I had recently started going to the gym.
I had recently rejoined my tennis club.
Yes I was bored. I was lonely. Selfish as it may seem, I wanted more from life than being a 'lady who lunches!
And on top of all that, I was approaching forty.
+
"I'll give you a lift," Jack had said one evening as the Marketing Research group meeting finished up around seven thirty.
He dropped me at Kings Cross station. A week or so later, when he found out where I lived, he gave me a lift all the way home.
I went to dinner with him, another colleague from work and a man and a woman from a big client.
He gave me a lift home.
We talked a lot in the office, too much probably, he was so easy to talk to. My work brought me into frequent contact with him, but probably we both exploited that. We got on very well, I found him interesting, easy to talk and very attractive.
"Look it's fairly early, how about a drink?" He suggested one evening in early May when he was giving me a lift home.
Of course I should have said no. Of course he shouldn't even have asked the question. We were both married and in good relationships with children and all the other 'fixtures and fittings' that go with twenty year plus marriages.
We only had one drink and then he took me home. He pulled up the discrete distance from my house where I had asked him to drop me the first time he had given me a lift.
"It's easier for you to go down the next road," I had explained wondering if sub-consciously there were other reasons why I got him to drop me two hundred yards or so from my house?
Richard came home early, well for him that is, around eight. I felt awful as we had a glass of wine and chatted as I prepared dinner. I felt slightly less guilty as the evening wore and we finished our customary bottle of wine, but I still felt as though I had to make something up to him when we went to bed. He seemed to enjoy me straddling him and fucking his brains out.
"Ok for a drink tonight?" He asked the next time, about a week later, he gave me a lift.
I genuinely meant to say no, but, and it's hard to believe, I forgot and went along with his casual suggestion. After all, it was only a drink and he was married, a work colleague and, ultimately my boss.
There was an atmosphere between us in the pub. We were both reserved, inhibited and, it seemed, reticent to open up. We discussed trivia, the conversation didn't flow as it usually did. We didn't stay long and hardly talked on the drive home. He stopped at the normal place, we looked at each other, both of us seeming to want to say something, but were loathe to do so and were hoping that the other would.
