What is it about couples?
A little while ago I wrote about a married couple who is interested in me for part-time play. For several reasons I decided against that, but now I'm up to my neck in a situation with a different couple. I'm really looking for someone single and available, but that's not who I am meeting.
I went to a New Year's Eve party at a hotel ballroom with a female friend I've known for many years. She actually has a husband but he is currently incarcerated for tax evasion and fraud. Hubby knows me since college days and trusts me, and I would never agree to escorting a married woman to a party without his blessing. She and I have always had a friendly relationship, and I was one of the people who was there for her when her husband was having his legal troubles. I check on her from time to time, and usually when I see her she has a drink in her hand. I don't blame her because it's been a rough year for her. Everybody has their own way of getting through a crisis.
Anyway, I dusted off my tux and headed over to her house to pick her up. When she answered the door, two things were clear: one was that she had been crying, and the other was that she was already drunk. In my head I was already thinking, "this can't end well". All kinds of scenarios were racing through my head and all of them meant trouble ahead if I took her to the party. I also realized quickly that reasoning with her wouldn't do much good in her condition. She was all dressed up, and when I mentioned that it might be a better idea to just stay home tonight she started to get mad. She said she was going out with or without me.
I decided to go through with the plan and take her to the party, but I would monitor her closely and get her out of there quickly if there was trouble. I poured her into the front seat and took off for our destination. It was icy quiet as I drove. I could tell that she was pissed at me for suggesting we just stay at home. The truth is that I never should have agreed to take her to the party, but I felt bad for her and thought she could use a night out.
I guess the good news is that when we got to the party, everybody else was just as drunk as my friend. I've always hated going out on New Year's Eve because it truly is amateur hour. There are people who never touch a drink all year who then decide to drink as much as they can on December 31. Smart, eh? I enjoy a beer as much as the next guy, but drinking champagne and shots all night and then winding up with a DUI or worse isn't my idea of a good time.
One thing I've learned is that if people are determined to have a good time, they will. The band sucked, the food was terrible, and the service was painfully slow. Yet there was a definite buzz of excitement going on in the ballroom. I danced a few dances with my friend, and she seemed to forget she was mad at me. Every time a dance ended, she would chug a glass of champagne. It was only around 11:00, but she was on the verge of passing out. We finished a dance where she fell down three times, and it was obvious it was time to cut her off.
She didn't protest when I told her it was time to go home. The drive back was just the opposite of the drive to the party. She was a chatterbox but was sort of oblivious to me. She rambled on and on about her husband and the toll it had taken on their marriage. She told me she was depressed and lonely. The alcohol was sort of a truth serum. Secrets started to flow from her, and I just drove and listened. She confessed that she was tired of masturbating and was considering having an affair with one her neighbors. That should have been a clue for me right there.
When we arrived back at her house I helped her out of the car and walked her out. She nearly fell down again as we went up the steps to her door. She had trouble with the lock, so I opened the door for her. She asked me to come inside and I did. That was a mistake.
The moment I was inside the house her demeanor changed. She poured herself a drink and offered me one, but I told her I needed to get home. She chugged a half of a large glass of wine, and I wondered how she was able to still stand. She became more insistent, and closed in on my personal space. She stared at me with her glassy eyes, and reached down squeezing my cock on the outside of my trousers. I couldn't help it, my cock responded the way it always has when touched by an attractive woman. She had me, and she knew it.
She grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom. I was riddled with guilt as she helped me out of my clothes. I thought her husband's trust in me, and how I thought I was trustworthy. She struggled getting out of her dress and asked for help. In a few moments we were both fully naked. She said she had to go to the bathroom first, and disappeared while I stood there like a dork with a cock hard enough to cut diamonds. I looked at my clothes on the ground and thought about making a dash for it, but my cock controlled my thoughts at that moment. I haven't had regular intercourse in over a year. Yes, I've done a few kinky things from time to time, but fucking is something I rarely do anymore.
Fate is a strange thing. Sometimes I think I have a guardian angel watching me. A couple of minutes passed and she remained in the bathroom. Then five minutes, and then ten. I knocked on the bathroom door, but there was no reply. The door was unlocked so I pushed it gently open.
My first reaction was horror as the sight and smell were overwhelming. She had gone to the bathroom not to urinate, but to vomit. There she was naked passed out on the bathroom floor next to the toilet which she had decorated with her stomach contents. I wiped up the mess with a towel, and flushed what she had left there. I grabbed a washrag and wiped her face. She was semi-conscious and I somehow managed to get her to her feet and helped her to bed. Once in bed it was seconds before she was out cold and softly snoring.
My hard-on was long gone, and I put my clothes back on. I was about to leave when a feeling of perverseness crept over me. I walked over to the bed and pulled the covers back so I could get a good view of her naked body. I could have done anything to her, but I didn't. As I watched her sleep I wondered how much of the night she would remember, and what our relationship would be like going forward. I put the covers back, turned out the light, and let myself out. Before I went to sleep I jacked off to the naked images of her in my mind. I wondered if she had the potential to be dominant. She would have looked lovely with a whip and strap-on, but she doesn't know that about me and probably never will...or so I thought.
Yesterday morning my cell rang early, and as expected she was very hung over and upset. She remembered up to the point of us getting naked, but no more. She asked a ton of questions. Did we kiss? Did we play around? Did we do anything sexual at all? I told her what happened and she apologized but she wanted to get inside my head. She said she didn't want things to change between us, and I assured her it wouldn't. She wants to talk to me face to face, but I told her I didn't think that was a good idea right now. She asked me why I didn't take advantage of her over and over, and each time I answered her she wasn't satisfied with my response. She asked me if I was gay. She asked me if I was impotent.
We were on the phone for about fifteen minutes when I let something slip. She has a way of breaking people down to get to the truth, but I've always been good at keeping my secrets to myself. I told her that I was attracted to her physically, but I was looking for a different kind of woman. For the next five minutes she needled me with "what kind of woman, David? Finally, I used a euphemism and said "a strong woman".
Strong woman? She misunderstood what I had said. She said she was very strong and most woman couldn't have handled what she's been through. She told me she was independent and could make her own money and didn't need a man to provide for her. She went on and on until finally I stopped her and told her what I meant. She listened in silence as I let a few secrets slip from my lips.
I didn't go into too much detail, but let her know that I like a woman who takes charge in the bedroom. I told her that my nature was to be submissive. The conversation didn't last much longer because everything finally seemed to made sense to her. I figured I was off the hook, and that was that. Before I hung up I told her I would check on her next week.
But she called again late last night, and now I'm a little more than nervous. She spend most of the day yesterday on the internet and when she called she was armed with a lot of new information. She wanted to know specifics. I dodged her for a little while then she used the answer yes or no technique. Spankings? Strapons? Cross dressing? Bondage? etc... She had found a checklist somewhere and knew me well enough to know if I were asked directly I wouldn't lie.
When she had the information she wanted, she told me that I should be prepared for things to be different between us. I reminded her that she was married, and she seemed unfazed. I told her I wouldn't get involved with a married woman without her husband's consent. This morning I received a text "My husband doesn't mind. Your assignment: write me an email describing your perfect Mistress. Do it today!".
So how desperate am I? Do I want an alcoholic Mistress with an incarcerated husband? Why are married women interested in me and not singles?
I went to a New Year's Eve party at a hotel ballroom with a female friend I've known for many years. She actually has a husband but he is currently incarcerated for tax evasion and fraud. Hubby knows me since college days and trusts me, and I would never agree to escorting a married woman to a party without his blessing. She and I have always had a friendly relationship, and I was one of the people who was there for her when her husband was having his legal troubles. I check on her from time to time, and usually when I see her she has a drink in her hand. I don't blame her because it's been a rough year for her. Everybody has their own way of getting through a crisis.
Anyway, I dusted off my tux and headed over to her house to pick her up. When she answered the door, two things were clear: one was that she had been crying, and the other was that she was already drunk. In my head I was already thinking, "this can't end well". All kinds of scenarios were racing through my head and all of them meant trouble ahead if I took her to the party. I also realized quickly that reasoning with her wouldn't do much good in her condition. She was all dressed up, and when I mentioned that it might be a better idea to just stay home tonight she started to get mad. She said she was going out with or without me.
I decided to go through with the plan and take her to the party, but I would monitor her closely and get her out of there quickly if there was trouble. I poured her into the front seat and took off for our destination. It was icy quiet as I drove. I could tell that she was pissed at me for suggesting we just stay at home. The truth is that I never should have agreed to take her to the party, but I felt bad for her and thought she could use a night out.
I guess the good news is that when we got to the party, everybody else was just as drunk as my friend. I've always hated going out on New Year's Eve because it truly is amateur hour. There are people who never touch a drink all year who then decide to drink as much as they can on December 31. Smart, eh? I enjoy a beer as much as the next guy, but drinking champagne and shots all night and then winding up with a DUI or worse isn't my idea of a good time.
One thing I've learned is that if people are determined to have a good time, they will. The band sucked, the food was terrible, and the service was painfully slow. Yet there was a definite buzz of excitement going on in the ballroom. I danced a few dances with my friend, and she seemed to forget she was mad at me. Every time a dance ended, she would chug a glass of champagne. It was only around 11:00, but she was on the verge of passing out. We finished a dance where she fell down three times, and it was obvious it was time to cut her off.
She didn't protest when I told her it was time to go home. The drive back was just the opposite of the drive to the party. She was a chatterbox but was sort of oblivious to me. She rambled on and on about her husband and the toll it had taken on their marriage. She told me she was depressed and lonely. The alcohol was sort of a truth serum. Secrets started to flow from her, and I just drove and listened. She confessed that she was tired of masturbating and was considering having an affair with one her neighbors. That should have been a clue for me right there.
When we arrived back at her house I helped her out of the car and walked her out. She nearly fell down again as we went up the steps to her door. She had trouble with the lock, so I opened the door for her. She asked me to come inside and I did. That was a mistake.
The moment I was inside the house her demeanor changed. She poured herself a drink and offered me one, but I told her I needed to get home. She chugged a half of a large glass of wine, and I wondered how she was able to still stand. She became more insistent, and closed in on my personal space. She stared at me with her glassy eyes, and reached down squeezing my cock on the outside of my trousers. I couldn't help it, my cock responded the way it always has when touched by an attractive woman. She had me, and she knew it.
She grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom. I was riddled with guilt as she helped me out of my clothes. I thought her husband's trust in me, and how I thought I was trustworthy. She struggled getting out of her dress and asked for help. In a few moments we were both fully naked. She said she had to go to the bathroom first, and disappeared while I stood there like a dork with a cock hard enough to cut diamonds. I looked at my clothes on the ground and thought about making a dash for it, but my cock controlled my thoughts at that moment. I haven't had regular intercourse in over a year. Yes, I've done a few kinky things from time to time, but fucking is something I rarely do anymore.
Fate is a strange thing. Sometimes I think I have a guardian angel watching me. A couple of minutes passed and she remained in the bathroom. Then five minutes, and then ten. I knocked on the bathroom door, but there was no reply. The door was unlocked so I pushed it gently open.
My first reaction was horror as the sight and smell were overwhelming. She had gone to the bathroom not to urinate, but to vomit. There she was naked passed out on the bathroom floor next to the toilet which she had decorated with her stomach contents. I wiped up the mess with a towel, and flushed what she had left there. I grabbed a washrag and wiped her face. She was semi-conscious and I somehow managed to get her to her feet and helped her to bed. Once in bed it was seconds before she was out cold and softly snoring.
My hard-on was long gone, and I put my clothes back on. I was about to leave when a feeling of perverseness crept over me. I walked over to the bed and pulled the covers back so I could get a good view of her naked body. I could have done anything to her, but I didn't. As I watched her sleep I wondered how much of the night she would remember, and what our relationship would be like going forward. I put the covers back, turned out the light, and let myself out. Before I went to sleep I jacked off to the naked images of her in my mind. I wondered if she had the potential to be dominant. She would have looked lovely with a whip and strap-on, but she doesn't know that about me and probably never will...or so I thought.
Yesterday morning my cell rang early, and as expected she was very hung over and upset. She remembered up to the point of us getting naked, but no more. She asked a ton of questions. Did we kiss? Did we play around? Did we do anything sexual at all? I told her what happened and she apologized but she wanted to get inside my head. She said she didn't want things to change between us, and I assured her it wouldn't. She wants to talk to me face to face, but I told her I didn't think that was a good idea right now. She asked me why I didn't take advantage of her over and over, and each time I answered her she wasn't satisfied with my response. She asked me if I was gay. She asked me if I was impotent.
We were on the phone for about fifteen minutes when I let something slip. She has a way of breaking people down to get to the truth, but I've always been good at keeping my secrets to myself. I told her that I was attracted to her physically, but I was looking for a different kind of woman. For the next five minutes she needled me with "what kind of woman, David? Finally, I used a euphemism and said "a strong woman".
Strong woman? She misunderstood what I had said. She said she was very strong and most woman couldn't have handled what she's been through. She told me she was independent and could make her own money and didn't need a man to provide for her. She went on and on until finally I stopped her and told her what I meant. She listened in silence as I let a few secrets slip from my lips.
I didn't go into too much detail, but let her know that I like a woman who takes charge in the bedroom. I told her that my nature was to be submissive. The conversation didn't last much longer because everything finally seemed to made sense to her. I figured I was off the hook, and that was that. Before I hung up I told her I would check on her next week.
But she called again late last night, and now I'm a little more than nervous. She spend most of the day yesterday on the internet and when she called she was armed with a lot of new information. She wanted to know specifics. I dodged her for a little while then she used the answer yes or no technique. Spankings? Strapons? Cross dressing? Bondage? etc... She had found a checklist somewhere and knew me well enough to know if I were asked directly I wouldn't lie.
When she had the information she wanted, she told me that I should be prepared for things to be different between us. I reminded her that she was married, and she seemed unfazed. I told her I wouldn't get involved with a married woman without her husband's consent. This morning I received a text "My husband doesn't mind. Your assignment: write me an email describing your perfect Mistress. Do it today!".
So how desperate am I? Do I want an alcoholic Mistress with an incarcerated husband? Why are married women interested in me and not singles?
9 年 前