Greg’s Confession
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I never intended to cheat, yet here we are. Every time we catch up I swear to myself that I will end it. Then of course we fuck, and I vow that it will be the last time. I hold out a day or even a week, but inevitably I find myself reaching for my phone and messaging her. Rinse and repeat.
She has become my mistress, and I am a slave to her every whim.
The sex is glorious, she does things to me that I thought only happened in porn. That first time, my god, it may have just given me an exhibitionist fetish, or at least a deeper appreciation for the privacy afforded by well-planned stadium architecture.
Oh, and I am sure I do not need to explain how hard it is to say no when she turns up to my worksite during lunch break wearing scant more than a trench coat? I could of course, choose not to tell her what location I will be at that day, but now that we have a good thing going, why would I want to stop? And don’t get me started on her online presence, I think she is turning pro with the all the attention she gets, and deservedly so.
But it goes beyond just sex. When I am with her I feel alive. I feel young again. I feel like I am rediscovering myself.
Then I return home and reality comes crashing down. I instantly feel drained around my wife. We have the same conversations, about the same people, who are having the same dramas. We do the same things and get the same results. I am hardly able to get it up for her anymore. It is not that she is not attractive, it is just that when you have been living with someone for that long, you get used to seeing their body all the time. It is no longer special. She changes things up occasionally, now she has gone blonde and taken to wearing a new perfume, but it’s just window dressing really. New hair, same person.
I guess you could say that I am just bored.
I suppose that it was that feeling of boredom that led me to experiment wider than just her. Once I accepted that I was a cheater, I took a long hard look at myself and discovered other unfilled fantasies. Things that my wife simply cannot provide me. Things that no woman could possibly provide me. I am quite submissive in life, and I guess I am in the bedroom as well. I love being told what to do and when. It takes away all my anxiety. If I do not have to choose what happens, I am free to simply embrace the moment.
What my mistress commands, I obey.
I am not going to lie, when she suggested bringing in another man, I was hesitant. But she gently, and then not so gently, pushed me to accept my role and take what was coming. It was an experience I will never forget, and most certainly one that I want to repeat, should my mistress allow it of course.
I do not think my wife would be keen for any of that. To be honest, I am too afraid to ask her. How could I possibly start that conversation? “Hey, would you please use me as a footstool whilst another man fucks your face? I would find that super-hot, what about you?”.
No, I do not see that happening any time soon.
This short story is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 1’
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