Married Man

It's been a long time since I last posted but that doesn't mean I can't start again. I live in Prague now and I just returned from four days in London where I met up with a married man.

He and I met last spring at a party in the Netherlands, of all places, and we flirted like teenagers in front of his wife. She didn't mind, as she thought it was all innocent fun. She even didn't mind that we exchanged numbers and email addresses but this was certainly because she didn't know that we'd had a bit of fun that night at the party with him fingering me outside in the bushes and me running my hands all over his cock.

We started emailing each other and talking on the phone. And then I introduced him to the joys of the webcam. Finally in August I went to visit him in London while his wife was away. He told me that he wasn't sure we'd have sex but he needed only ten minutes in my hotel room before he was asking to feel my insides.

And so we fucked a lot for a few days. His cock was so big that I even bled. I held him close to me and loved every moment of our bodies touching. And then back I went to Prague.

He traveled for a while in September and we didn't talk much and he went from missing me "a bit" to missing me "a lot" and then he asked me not to sleep with other men. To just be his. At least until we cuold meet again.

And so I tried to stick to my end of the bargain (I failed but he doesn't know that) and we met again in London for a few days. We fucked in the shower, with me in lingerie and stockings, me bent over touching the floor. We sixty-nined, he used a vibrator on me. And I had orgasm after glorious orgasm.

Then we talked about his wife and why he'd cheat on her when he loves her and he loves his life. He couldn't answer that, saying only that he'd wondered the same thing. I thought maybe he loved me but I don't think so. I think, moreso, he loves the idea of me. That I'm willing to spend hundreds of dollars and take off from work so that I can sleep with him, getting nothing but the feeling of his big penis and the smothering moistness of his kisses. And, a few days later, I'm back home with nothing but a sore pussy.

I wonder if there will be another time. I thought we would discuss it but we didn't. It seemed too awkward, really, although he did say on our final morning, after our last fuck, something about "next time." "Next time, we won't meet during half term." Meaning, all the London children won't be on fall break, which did put a kink in some of our plans, like to fuck in a cinema, because it was simply too packed.

But I think I wanted him to fall in love with me; he loves his wife. Enough is enough, really, Katherine. Still, I'm seeing someone here in Prague and one of my former lovers is in Brussels and asking me to visit him. There are plenty of options, really.