'Entry 41
First of all, I'm back home. :(
I really don't want to be sulky about it because I did miss my daughter and couldn't wait to see her, but I also felt like Paris was becoming a little bit too much for me. The intensity of everything happening all at once was thrilling and exciting.
To be fair, I think if I stayed there a little bit longer, I would have become addicted to the lifestyle there.
I enjoyed Paris more than I thought I would. I had endless servings of croissants, walked the cobblestoned streets, fucked Parisian men and women, and had a red wine that'll last me a lifetime.
Paris has been everything you all hyped it up to be and then some. I knew it would be amazing and so adventurous, but I had no idea it would be this adventurous, if you get my drift.
From wandering nude art galleries and fucking an artist on a huge canvas to having threesomes where it felt like I was going to literally die from the amount of pleasure coursing through my veins. Everything was wonderful, and the whole trip was a whirlwind of pleasure and passion.
And last night, let's just say... I decided to go out with a bang (no pun intended, but also, maybe it's a little intended).
So here's the thing: after days of trying new things, pushing boundaries, and fully embracing this "Eat, Kiss, Fuck" vibe, I still had one last night to conquer Paris with my friends. We booked ourselves a cute little Airbnb tucked in a corner that overlooked the Eiffel Tower, and after we drank A LOT of champagne, we decided to head to one of the wildest strip clubs we could find.
Sure, after my very spontaneous encounter with the priest and fucking in a confessional, I wanted my last day to be on a balcony recuperating, but a strip club sounded nice, so I went there.
Now, I know what you're thinking -- "Slutty Wife Anonymous, really?" But listen, I've always been the girl with her head in a book, the good wife, the PTA volunteer, the one who hosts the annual bake sale. I've always played by the cards all my life and deprived myself of the good things, so what's wrong with a little bit of fun?
We went into the strip club filled with hot men who wanted to spend their money on women and even hotter women naked and dancing on poles. It was practically my fantasy, and I couldn't wait to get down and dirty.
The lights were low, and suddenly, one of the dancers--a gorgeous woman--locked eyes with me. The next thing I knew, I was getting an invitation to a private dance. Before I could even think about how much champagne was making these decisions for me, a random guy in the crowd winked, paid for it, and left me speechless.
When I got to the private room he'd paid for, I realized that he was there. I thought he just wanted to watch me make out with the stripper, but there was more! He pulled out his cock and kept stroking it slowly as the stripper did whatever he said to me.
I'd never felt that turned on and stretched out in all of my life. I just wanted him to put his fat cock in me and pound into me until I saw stars. It was exciting to let myself go and let someone else be in control.
Anyway, he did fuck me, and that was one of the best sex I've ever had.
Now, I'm back home, completely worn out and sore, and my legs are still wobbly. I'm realizing how much I needed this. I've spent so many years holding back, playing it safe, sticking to routines and schedules, and here I am, a little shaken up and honestly, loving it.
I've been reading your comments and recommendations, and I see so many of you suggesting a little post-Paris detox, maybe hitting the gym to "work off" all this, uh, Parisian indulgence.
After getting some much-needed rest at home, I've decided to give the gym a try. I'll be attending my first workout today, and maybe I'll be bringing back a little bit of Paris with me.
Till I write again!
Slutty Wife Anonymous.'
It was a Saturday morning and my first day at the gym. I'd paid for my gym membership and postponed my starting date until I felt I was ready enough to take this leap.
It wasn't easy going to the gym after birthing a child and feeling self-conscious about my body for most of my life. I'd not been in years, but I wanted to make this a part of my lifestyle.
I looked at my tight and extremely short gym outfit in the mirror, which made me look extremely sexy. I was wearing a dark blue two-piece short and bralette. My ass cheeks looked amazing in the short, and my bralette was giving me the right amount of cleavage.
I grabbed an old cardigan from the hamper and shrugged into it because I knew Paul would have a fit if he saw me in what I was wearing.
Racing down the staircase, I got to the living room, where he and Dawn were engrossed in the show they were watching.
"I'm off to the gym now," I called out to them, grabbing my keys from the counter. "Are you sure you don't want to come with me, Paul?"
Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.
With his eyes not leaving the TV screen for one moment, Paul called back. "Nah, maybe some other time."
I knew he was going to decline, and a small part of me wished he had cared a bit more about his appearance. Maybe if he actually exercised, he would last longer in bed, and I would want to jump his bones every chance I got.
Instead, I spent time in the shower with my vibrator, thinking about Grayson, how sculpted his chest was, and how fucking good he was at using his huge cock. With all the adventures happening in my life, Paul and his growing potbelly was the last thing on my mind.
"Are you sure?" I added it for extra effect.
"Yes, babe. I'll join you next week."
He won't!
"Alright then. I'm off. Don't text or call in the next three hours. I'll probably be sweating my ass off at the gym."
"Will do!" Paul replied, his eyes still not leaving the TV screen.
I made my way to my car, shrugged off the cardigan, and in seven minutes, I arrived at the gym.
At the reception, I signed my name on the dotted line and got my gym membership card.
"Your personal trainer will be out in just a moment," the receptionist said with a sweet smile.
"Thank you."
I waited for a bit, tapping my foot impatiently on the tiles because I had no idea what to do with myself. It was my first day at a real gym, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling a little out of my depth.
But after the whirlwind of Paris, this was exactly what I needed, and maybe my new personal trainer could be more than just a friend to me.
Then, I heard his voice before I saw him -- low, smooth, with a confidence that made me turn my head almost instinctively. And when he finally appeared, my mouth went dry.
He was tall, huge, and completely muscled. Even better looking than I'd expected from a muscly gym bro. He's wearing a tank top that was loose but did nothing to hide his biceps and the toned muscles underneath the shirt.
He also had a playful gleam in his eyes that hinted that he knew exactly the effect he had on people. Men like him were very dangerous.
"Ashley?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he stretched out his hand. "I'm Jude, your personal trainer."
His strong cologne scent wafted through my nostrils, and I completely lost my train of thought for a second.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Ashley."
Fuck! Why did I just say that after he'd already called out my name? Of course, he knew I was Ashley. How much more embarrassing could I be?
He smirked, knowing that he was having some sort of effect on me. "Yeah, I figured."
My eyes trailed down to his hard chest and focused on it, my brain going completely blank. I want Jude to fuck me, and I want him to fuck me shitless. I could see the dick print from his shorts, and just like I expected, his cock looked fucking huge.
I could just imagine it stretching me out and fucking me. It was exactly what I needed: a good workout and dicking down after.
"So, what do you aim to achieve during your time at the gym?" he asked, dragging me out of my very steamy reverie.
