Reality check time.
Of course the affair ended. They nearly always do unless you get caught. As much as we thought we loved each other, we just couldn't go to the next stage and leave our families. So by mutual agreement we finished with each other. I have seen or heard from him again, but that is best, it's what we agreed. I left the job and went back to doing freelance editing for my old firm and in some ways my life, on the surface at least, got back to being seemingly normal.
Hitting forty had been traumatic, but I coped. Ok it was with the help, or maybe the hindrance, I am still not sure which, of the affair. I strode into my forties with my head held high and my, sadly, slightly saggy tits pushed out. But I kept those very much to myself. As indeed I did the rest of my body. After my wild, totally sexual fling with Craig and my intense, hugely loving affair with Patrick, I didn't yearn for anything else. I had no desire to have one night stands and the 'offers' that women who belong to golf and tennis clubs and go to work, albeit occasionally in my case, simply didn't interest me. I don't have that high a need for sex that I would do anything that I don't feel particularly strongly about. Sounds pompous, I know, but I can take it or leave as far as sex is concerned other than in very special circumstances such as with Craig and Patrick.
In any case I am married, with a husband who loves me, I think, alright maybe not quite as much as he loves work, but then hey a girl can't have everything can she. In my way I also love him, but as my idea of love has become jaundiced as I have got older, I'm not sure. I think I have concluded that what Richard and I have is what most people have. We get on well, we have similar likes and dislikes, preferences and values and we are used to each other. It may not be romantic ideal, but it's probably as good as it gets in real life. And of course, we do have our photo sessions.
So as I struggled on without Patrick, I realised not much had changed. I was still over forty, my family were growing up, Richard was still away a lot, I was still bored and my tits still sagged a little.
I am coming to the conclusion that the Hyde, or is it Jekyl, side of me comes out when I am going through life style traumas. When something big is happening to me emotionally, I react in surprising ways. I was moving house to a place that I hated, and still do, although I love the conservatory I had built onto the back of the house, when Craig erupted. And of course Patrick came about when my I was agonising over my impending fortieth. I could feel the traumatisation happening again as my son completed his A levels and prepared to go to university and as our daughter, who we had agreed would go to a residential sixth form college, also got ready to leave me; I realised my babies were flying the nest.
Obviously, being associated with writers and writing of one sort or another most of my life, I had often thought of writing myself. I had made several unsuccessful efforts at writing a novel, but had put that on the back burner as I got on with my, up until recently, quite busy life. With just my part time editing from home, my children gone, Richard away as much as he was at home, no lovers or affairs on the go, my life lost its busyness and in some ways its purpose.
So I decided to start another novel. An idea had been rattling round my mind for some time about a story for a typical 'airport' book. Code named Savannah it was about an American woman whose family owned a cotton plantation in the 1850s. After marrying a gambler and living in London for several years she divorces and returns to run the plantation when her mother and father die.
As the Civil War looms, an old friend from years back, who has made it big in the Union military intelligence asks her to gather information on what the Confederates are planning. So she becomes a Marta Hari of her time spying for both sides and using all of her womanly wiles to get the required information.
As I wrote it I realised I was probably putting in far too much sex. It was intended to be a raunchy story, but it was turning into a highly erotic if not a pornographic one. I realised two things after I had written around fifty thousands words. Firstly, I would never publish it. I knew that I would never be able to stand the embarrassment of people reading some of the stuff I had composed, which was pretty extreme. And as to what Richard would say and my children would think just wasn't worth even considering. Secondly, and in many ways more importantly, I realised just how much I was enjoying writing in general and erotica in particular.
Several times as I had gone into some detail about a sexual adventure I had found that I was touching myself, undoing buttons and slipping my hands into my clothing. A few times I had masturbated as I visualised myself in those situations. It was fun, exciting, enjoyable, secret and no one was getting hurt.
I wasn't that confident, though, of how to write raunchy stuff. I knew what appealed to me, but I wanted more information on what appealed to others. I googled 'erotic writing.' One name stood out, 'Literotica.' I went there and was absolutely amazed. There was so much on so many different topics. Apart from a quite natural lower age limit of eighteen, it seemed that pretty much anything goes on the site, it was exactly what I was after. It seemed to me that this was a natural bedfellow for me; a place where I could try out my writing, get other peoples' opinions, maybe hone my skills and find out what out what appealed to other people.
I spent hours a day for several days devouring loads of stories across a range of genres. Rather too many of them, regrettably, were not really to my taste for a number of reasons: too basic, lack of structure, story and 'message,' overly demeaning to women, unrealistic scenarios, poorly written and too quickly to the sex. That said, I found nearly as many that I enjoyed. I read such topics as spanking, mild bondage, incest, humiliation and bi sexual experiences by both men and women in which I had no realisation I would be interested. I was, though. One lesson I learned from my 'erotic readathon' was that one should not judge a sexual experience by its name, read about it and you will generally find some form of interest and pleasure. I did from so many different aspects of sexual reading, but I drew the line at animals, the use of bodily wastes and hard core S & M and the like. I also read lots of more 'normal' stuff between straight men and women, thoroughly enjoyed those and I did learn quite a lot of techniques that I now incorporate into my erotic writing. I now look back on those few days of reading as my 'mega wank fest,' for I seemed to be almost perpetually masturbating.
I registered as an author and submitted a short story about a businesswoman who uses male escorts. The waiting after submitting it until it was published was agonising and made me feel very sympathetic to the many authors I had kept waiting. I felt great the day I read my first 'published' piece and I felt even better during the next week or so when I received quite a lot of generally positive feedback.
I decided to write and submit another story. For some reason I registered again under another ID, I don't really know why, but I was worried about privacy and anybody recognising me. This time I chose to write about how a recently divorced woman in her late thirties comes to terms with single life and the renewal of dating after such a long time. That also generated a lot of feedback and gained high marks.
It was getting to me, I was enjoying myself, I had found a new hobby, another interest, an outlet for my erotic needs, a different way of expressing my sexual desires and beliefs; the doctor or the mister were getting to me again. I was becoming more confident with my writing. I had always known that I can compose using accurate grammar and generally get my points across, but I didn't really know how others received my messages. The feedback told me that they were received well. It is said that art causes an emotional reaction in the viewer. If that's the case and if erections and masturbating are emotional reactions, then I must be quite some artist going on what a number of the feedback reported! At first, I found that difficult. It was strange to receive messages such as 'Reading your stuff gave me a permanent hard on,' 'I jacked off six times reading that story,' and 'I fucked my wife thinking about you.' I got used to it quickly, though!
I registered again, this time with what has become my 'nom de plume' catmoore. I put more information on the bio section kindly provided by Lit and I included a photo, which, if I do say it myself was of me in a nicely filled, blue, cashmere sweater wearing a string of pearls. I also included an email address.
I'd had what I thought was a great idea for a story.
An affair, well more a fling, if there is a difference, between an older woman and a younger guy, yes memories of Craig. However, the theme of this story was vastly different to that with Craig and me as was the way it was related. In this story I was an aunt and my lover was my nephew. That meant that we were not just addressing the older woman, younger man situation, but also adding in the taboo of incest. Why, I have no idea, but I guess it seemed a good idea at the time. The other, what I thought was an interesting twist was that it was written from the perspectives of both parties. So a chapter would be written by the aunt and then one by the nephew. I hadn't really planned much about the story. I find my best stuff comes when I just write without thinking too much, just go with the flow. And that's what I did and I guess that's why I ended up with a fourteen part story!
When Patrick and were having our affair I had not only bought a pay as you use mobile, but had also opened a yahoo email account. I had Outlook, both as part of the package on my laptop and PC, which were linked to a server at Richard's firm, and as an employee of Patrick's company. However, they were not secure enough for what Patrick and I sometimes needed to write to each other, hence yahoo. That was the address I put on Lit, but then forgot about it. That is until I read one of the feedback after the third part of 'Perspectives.' In the feedback the writer mentioned that he had sent something separate to my email. I logged in and was amazed when I saw that there was approaching fifty unopened emails.
Replying to most of those gave me a new interest. It was a natural extension to writing on Literotica, I was entering into correspondence with 'my readers.'
At first I would exchange views on my Lit submission and then on each other; hobbies, work, partner status and the like. As I progressed down that path many would drop by the wayside, largely because they had difficulty expressing themselves in writing. Some though survived and I developed some really interesting online relationships. As time went on they, obviously, I suppose, became more focused on sexual matters. That was natural as it was one of those, my erotic submissions to Lit, which had caused the email relationship so start.
