The Visit

I'm not sure when exactly it happened. I mean I have always loved him, but at some point, I fell in love with him too. My head says that it's not okay. My whole life, I was told he was no good. He's too old for me. He's married. I'm married. Blah, blah, blah. If anything happens between us, it will become awkward later. We could ruin each other's lives. Yet, I can't get Adam out of my mind.

My heart strongly disagrees. I'm conflicted. It can't be bad when it feels so, so good. So good to be in his arms. To be held, protected, and unconditionally loved. I can't explain it, but I feel like I can be myself with him. One hundred percent. I do not need to worry about what he thinks of me. I don't need to filter. I don't need to cork my feelings. I don't need to be on the defensive, or walk on eggshells around him. I don't need to make myself small to stoke his ego. I don't need to watch my words with him. No topic is off-limits. We can have intelligent conversation, or exchange inappropriate jokes. We can challenge each other. We can agree to disagree. After our visits, I feel whole again. I feel like a woman again. I feel worthy, confident, and like I have my head screwed on straight again. I trust him implicitly.

I wish I had that with my husband, Jack. Maybe Jackass is more like it. Everything I have with Adam, I do not have with Jack. Those feelings I used to have for Jack, have been gone a long time. Hell, we haven't had sex in almost ten years. I am fucking lonely. And desperately in need of a good fucking. I am mostly still with him because of our children. I really believe it is better to wait. There are circumstances not meant for discussion here. Now, to top it off, my husband is starting to have significant health problems. I still love him, and would never desert him now in his time of most need. Holy hell, my stress level is through the roof.

Me, well, I have my strengths, and I have my faults; though I think my husband and I would completely disagree on which traits are assets. I reflect on the past 30 years we have been together. Even though I have been the sole support for the family, and I have had what I believe to be a successful career while raising two children, my husband finds a way to make me feel about one inch tall every time he opens his mouth. I know my value; I just wish he did. You see, I am loyal, smart, and fierce. I love with my whole heart. But enough is enough. My biggest fault is that I put everyone else above myself. I can't help it. I give so much of myself to others, that I feel like I'm starting to really chip away at myself. I need to reclaim my being.

Back to Adam. I have known him for what seems like my whole life. Maybe it's my fault. I've always been a flirt. Most of the time, I don't even realize I'm doing it. Putting a hand on someone's shoulder, straightening a tie, wiping a piece of lint off the jacket. Just the little things like that. With Adam, it started that way. It just felt natural to sit near him. Perhaps it was more like being drawn by a magnet. Regardless, it progressed very slowly; almost unnoticeably. A hug that lingered a little longer than it probably should have. Our hands accidentally brushing when he passed a menu. His hand on the small of my back as tried to stay with me in a crowd. Those sorts of things.

At one of my visits, probably 15 years ago, I was standing at the island in his kitchen, chatting with his wife. She stepped out the room for some reason or another, and about that same time, he came into the room. He came up behind me, patted or grabbed my behind (probably both), and complimented me on having a fine ass. I mustered a "thank you" and a smile. What hit me was the bolt of electricity, the palpable shock, when he touched me. At another time during that week, we were in the family room, having a very nice chat. I'd taken a shower an hour or so earlier, and the towel wrapping my hair started coming undone. I unwrapped my hair, and reached for my hairbrush. He gently took it from me, and asked if he could brush my hair.

OH, MY GOD! I think he just knew the way to my heart. I'm damn proud of my hair. It is thick and curly. At the time, it was long -- almost down to my waist. The thing is, when he put the back of his hand against my neck, as he gathered my hair into one hand to brush it with the other, I felt that electricity again, and this time it traveled all the way to my loins. I don't know what it is about the back of my neck -- soft kisses from my shoulder to earlobe, playing with my hair, even just running a finger from my collar to my hairline just sets me afire. If I were a cat, I'd purr. Loudly. That was the first time Adam's touch made me wet. I was in heaven. Yet, I never said a word. I never in a million years thought anything would happen between us. I knew it couldn't. It shouldn't. I would never allow it, because I respect his wife, and his marriage too much to fuck that up. And besides, it was all in my head, right? It was later that night when I had my first fantasy dream about Adam.

I've seen Adam only a handful of times since then. Once, he was visiting Jack and I at our home. Adam and I were sitting on the couch, talking, watching some television. Jack was in the kitchen, puttering around. Adam leaned over to lie down from the jet lag, and put his head in my lap. I absentmindedly began running my fingers through his hair. It was so natural, so easy. I could have sworn I heard Adam make a low hum, but I guessed I had imagined it. Jack paid no notice.

I saw Adam a again a few years ago. He was in town for a seminar; his wife was at their home. During that visit, I started noticing that he would hold my hand, or put his hand on my knee while he was driving. It felt divine. Out of the blue one day, he asked me how my husband and I managed to make time for sex. Before even thinking, I blurted out, "we don't." My hand instinctively went to my mouth; I couldn't believe I'd just told him that. He simply squeezed my knee a little -- what seemed like a little sympathy -- and kept driving. Our conversation stayed tame, but skirted a line that I would not have crossed with anyone else with whom I had a casual friendly relationship. It felt so good to be able to be honest with someone about those struggles in my marriage.

He was back in town again last week -- yet another conference. I met him at baggage claim, and we embraced. I could feel my defenses falling as he held me tight. As he let go, he slipped an arm around the small of my back and kept it there until his luggage arrived. As we left the airport, our arms were around each other as we waded through the crowds and back to the car. It just felt right. We had nice conversation as I drove back to my house, where he'd stay a few days before and a few days after his conference.

On the day his conference began, I drove him to the hotel, with easy conversation the entire way. He invited me up to his hotel room to continue our conversation until his first meeting. I sat on the bench along the while, watching him unpack. Suddenly, I felt the mood change. I must warn you that I have a very difficult time actually reading people -- therefore, I don't know if that was real or not. He sat at the foot of the bed. We kept talking, and he looked me straight in the eye. felt like he was either trying to see way down deep into my soul, or trying to size me up. I held his gaze as long as I could manage.

As I started to look away, he patted the bed and said, "come sit with me." Without a word, I rose, walked toward him, then sat down. He turned to hug me, and laid his head on my chest. I'm sure he could hear my heart flutter as I stroked his hair. After a few moments, he laid back, and we continued to chat. He took my hand, and pulled my arm around him, so that we were in a warm embrace. I was too afraid to make any moves; and he gave me no intention that he wanted anything other than this. After a while, it was time for him to head down to his first meeting. We got up, he hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Then, out of the blue, he asked, "What color are your nipples?" I think my jaw hit the ground. "Umm, well, I don't know how to describe...." As I responded, Adam interjected. "I have been wondering since I saw you in your nightgown this morning." Then he opened the door, and we headed out to the elevator. Shit! I felt the moisture building between my legs, and it was too late now to even think about trying anything. The ride down was long and silent, as there were other men riding too. He escorted me back down to my car, gave me another long hug, softly kissed my cheek, said he'd see me in a few days, and then went back upstairs for his meeting.

I sat reeling in the car for several minutes. My mind went into overdrive, trying to analyze what had just happened. Am I reading too much into this? Or did I just totally miss an opportunity? I decide to push all these distracting thoughts out of my head, turn up my music, and just drive home. This was just one more of those conversations that skirted that line, right?

******

Three days pass while he's doing whatever people do at these seminars. At home, I'm back into the daily grind of work during the day, housework and caring for the children and Jack at night. As I drift off to sleep each night, I linger in the fantasies of what it might have felt like for him to actually learn the color of my nipples. Or more. They say that fantasies are always better than reality. I really hope not, because something is stirring inside of me, and I'm starting to fear that my limits might too easily be pushed.

On the day before he was to return from the conference, I managed to have 20 minutes alone in an empty house. I seized this rare opportunity use my vibrator in effort to take the edge off of my pent-up energy. The entire time, I imagined it was Adam inside me, stroking my clitoris as he moved in and out as my climax built, and I finally had my release. Just enough to take the edge off, but certainly not as satisfying as I would like.

The next morning, I received the text from Adam, letting me know what time I should meet to pick him up. The entire drive, I'm replaying the conversations from the hotel room. Do my memories deceive me? Was there something more bubbling under the surface? Has it been there all along? I chastise myself for even thinking such things. My mind is screaming at me, telling me over an over again that nothing can happen. My curiosity is piqued -- but then I feel that strong warning that curiosity killed the cat. I decide that very soon, I need to have a difficult conversation, and establish limits. Goodness, I need to pull myself together. If only................

The ride home was typical for us -- great conversation, his hand on my knee. Not mention of any of a sexual nature, so I convinced myself that I was overthinking things again, and to let the sleeping dogs lie. Just be on my normal behavior, and try desperately not to flirt! We got to the house, and continued to talk, while I made a pot of chili. Once I finally got the spices to my liking, I brought a tasting spoon to him while he was sitting at the table, and without thinking, I stepped in between his legs, and brought the spoon to his lips so that I could get his opinion. His eyes met mine, and my heart almost leapt out of my chest. Oh, damn. Those eyes are so hot! After a moment, his eyes dropped to my breasts. After all, they were right there at his eye level. I swear I could see a flicker of something lustful in his eyes.

Uh, oh -- I'm starting to regret losing my nerve about drawing the line in the sand. I started to feel hot and bothered, but went back to the stove without another word. I grabbed us each a cold beer, while I went back to preparing the meal. After dinner, Jack went downstairs to his room and went to bed. Adam and I sat at the table and talked for hours. We laughed, we cried, we reminisced, and talked about our dreams. We confessed secrets about our marriages, and I was surprised to learn about recent struggles in his. We'd each gone through several more beers over the course of the night. I felt like I'd already gone one beer past my limit (though in reality, I was more like four past my limit). Sadly, when we came to the realization that the last beer was gone, we both decided we needed sleep.

My son had long been upstairs in my bed, but was very much still awake. I knew that he was not tired in the slightest, and it was going to take some effort to get him to sleep tonight. Damn, it's always tough to get him to sleep, and I already know there will be a terrible hangover awaiting me at daylight. I gather the empty bottles from the table to rinse them, as I mentally begin to prepare myself for the struggle that awaits me upstairs. As I rinse the bottles, Adam approaches me, kisses the back of my neck (HOT DAMN! I'm wet again!) and sets his hands on my hips as he presses against me. I can feel his hard-on, and I can feel my resolve quickly dissipating. He whispers in my ear, too softly to be heard, but I swear I heard him say, "come to bed with me." He starts walking away before I have a chance to respond or even confirm if I heard him correctly. I dally for a few minutes, gathering myself while I place the bottles in the recycling bin. I gather my phone, a drink of water, along with some aspirin, and start turning off lights as I head upstairs. I notice that Adam's door is still open; he usually shuts it when he goes to bed. Maybe I did hear him correctly? Well, right now, I have to pee something fierce, and make a beeline for the powder room.

After I'm done with my business, I take my aspirin, then walk over to my bedroom door. I see that Adam's already in bed, and appears to be asleep. I don't know if he is waiting for me or not, but I have to get my son to sleep before I can even consider stealing away into Adam's room. So, I say to my son, in a voice that Adam would hear if he's awake, "let's get you to sleep, honey. It's way past your bedtime." I turn off the bedroom light, then walk over and sit down on the bed as my son yawns deeply. I turn off his iPad and set it on the table, pull him into my arms, and snuggle him until he falls asleep. I intend to wait about ten or twenty minutes to ensure he won't wake when I get up.

The next thing I am aware of is the sunlight coming through the bedroom window. Oh, crap! I fell asleep. And to make matters work, I slept in my clothes, and in an awkward position partially upright. When I start to move, not only does the hangover hit me, but every muscle in my back and neck is very angry with me. Oh, hell. Not only do I feel physically horrible, but also, I feel so guilty that I must have really let Adam down by "ignoring" his request to join him. I move very slowly so as not to disturb my son who thankfully is still sound asleep. I peek into Adam's room, and see he's not in bed. I head downstairs and find him in the kitchen, already drinking coffee. Thank goodness, as I'm really going to need some this morning!

I also feel bad that he was alone while everyone else slept. I start pouring myself a cup, and quietly say, "Adam, I'm so sorry..." He interrupts me with, "Shhh; you have nothing to apologize for." He stands up, comes over to me at the counter, and pulls me into a reassuring embrace. He whispers, "how's your headache?" to which I respond, "could be worse; yours?" He softly chuckles, "it'll pass." He gives me a wry smile and a wink. "Thank you for the conversation last night. It was really nice to spend some quiet time with you." He kisses my forehead, pulls out of the embrace, and starts walking with me back to dining room table.

We continue (quiet) conversation, and by the time I finish my second cup of coffee, I feel my aches starting to subside. I really enjoy this time together. Jack and I rarely talk anymore. Usually, Jack just lectures and I barely get in a word. Adam likes to listen. It's a very nice change. After a while, Adam and I decide to make a grocery run. In the middle of the aisle, he turns to me and says, "you know, every time your breasts accidentally brush my arm, it gives me a hard-on." Well, that got my attention. I think I turned as red as a beet, because he very gently kissed my hand. I don't even recall my response. My mind went into overdrive again. I might have fainted if he didn't gently grab my arm to keep me on my feet. We continued our shopping, but now I was more intent on "accidentally" brushing against him. Or choosing something from the top shelf that I couldn't reach, just so he could come up behind me to reach the item with one hand, while putting his other arm on my shoulder or my back. During one of these exchanges, Adam confesses that he finds me physically attractive. Never in a million years would I have expected this from him. I think my heart skipped a couple beats. I blush, bend my head down to avoid his gaze, when he lifts my chin and slowly moves in to kiss my lips for the first time. Just as his lips touch mine, a store employee enters the aisle, and we hear his "ahem" as he clears his throat. Adam and I step back from each other. I turn back to the cart, and I have to take a deep breath to steady my nerves. I realize that I have lost complete control, and that we are no longer just skirting boundaries, but have officially crossed them. The thought starts to excite me.

We complete our shopping, and manage to make it out of the store without further incident. We take the groceries back to the house, put everything away, and spend a little time chatting with Jack, discussing plans for the final days of Adam's visit. Jack's not feeling well, and wants to bow out of almost everything, and gives me the green light to go off gallivanting with Adam and show him some of the local sites. So, Adam and I decide to go to one of the local breweries and have a bite of lunch and a beer to pass some time.

After lunch, we both decided we need to find the restrooms before we drive back to the house. He opens the men's room door, takes a quick look around, and invites me to join him inside. I shake my head slightly, and whisper, "I can't. Not here." He sighs, and says, "As you wish." I felt his disappointment, but I'm not that adventurous. And, I like to do my business in private. I really appreciate that he respected my decision. I feel like I let him down yet again, and that nags at me a little bit. Or actually, I dare say a lot.

Adam remains flirty on the drive home. After we arrive at the house, I notice Jack's not home. Oh, yeah, it's his poker night. Not surprising that he felt well enough to go play cards, but not well enough to spend time with Adam. He'll pull in around 2am or so. Plus, the nanny has taken my kids to my parents' house for the afternoon, where they'll stay the night. The one night per month that I don't have a child in my bed with me. The timing is perfect because after last night, I'm going to need to catch up. I'm relieved. Adam goes to the spare bedroom to check in with his wife. To allow him his privacy, I head to the kitchen, grab a couple beers for us, and then go sit on the couch and think back to that almost-kiss in the grocery store. And, I wonder what he was actually after when he invited me to the men's room. After a few minutes, I decide to quietly go upstairs and grab some laundry to throw in the washer. As I get to the top of the stairs, Adam is still talking on the phone with his wife, but has taken off his jeans, and is bending down to pull up the shorts he's decided to change into. I realize he has gone commando. He has a really fine ass, and between his legs, I can see his member. Even though it is currently flaccid, it is enormous. It must be ten or more inches long, and a couple inches thick. I am actually quite intimidated, and a little frightened, to think about how large he would be when fully erect. I hastily retreat into my bedroom, and pray that he hadn't noticed me. I take a moment to steady myself and try to shake those incredible images from my mind, before bending to reach for the laundry basket.