Well it’s Friday night, and I just got home ready to share yet another story with you about tonight’s latest events.
I’d say the worst thing about having an affair with a married woman is how unfair it is to her husband. He’s older, has physical degenerative disease and hasn’t been giving her sex because he isn’t physically able. In all their marriage, they only had one k** – which right away lets you know that there’s not much sex (or possibly even romance) in the relationship. I believe Sherry, as she ages, is going through the final stages of her body’s menstrual cycles and she’s been desperate to get sex from a younger, stronger, virile man such as myself. No condoms. No withdrawals. She comes onto me strong, wants to get fucked deep and lets me pop off my nuts inside her as if she’s determined to impregnate herself. The fear for me is what would happen if she possibly got pregnant, no matter how unlikely it is…and what could happen if she decided to keep the baby… and what could happen if he found out. I can tell you plenty about technical data but I am not an expert on a woman’s cycle nor could I be 100% sure that the possibility of her fucking me for a pregnancy isn’t possible.
I took her out tonight to a nice restaurant for happy hour. I’d pick her up at 7. She tells her husband she’s going out with her coworkers and it seems innocent enough. But as she’s fixing her makeup and getting dressed, she knows exactly how the random romps around with me are going to end. And they always end the exact same way.
We went out for Italian at a restaurant in the city that has opened and is recovering from coronavirus quarantine. We ordered drinks to start off: A Whiskey sour and a Happy Hour margherita. I usually drink the light drinks because I’m not into hard liquor and she likes less-sweet, more alcohol because after-all, she doesn’t have to drive. Then we ordered some appetizer platters and shared them rather than get the full dinner. Neither of us were very hungry. We just wanted to get out together.
We sat there in the comfy lounge of the restaurant and just talked together. I listened to her, she listens to me and we look around at the other guests as they look at us. I’m sure many of them wonder what’s going on between us because the age difference is obvious. I’m obviously younger – she’s obviously older. She’s old enough maybe to be my mom, but she’s shapely and dressed relatively conservatively. Some of the other guests have split dresses with showy thigh and boob areas, but my date, Sherry, has a less-showy, more conservative top and knee length skirt with cute heels and open toes.