But I would not be convicted
By jury of my peers.
I know Leo, well I sort of know Leo, I know his voice (honeyed) I know his mobile number, I know his Linkedin profile, I know what he looks like, but I have yet to meet Leo……………
I am a happily married wife and mother to several children. They are all normal, my husband is normal and I, although scatty, would also be classed as normal. I have a challenging job which I generally love, I have friends, I have a home, I am happy. I have hobbies, I love music, I love Alfred Tennyson’s poetry. So why did this perfectly presentable female decide to join Ashley Madison. Hard to quantify except “something was missing” My children are older, this is my time, my foray into fun before settling down to a life of cocoa by the fire! I am in my 50’s, very active, very bubbly, with a wicked sense of humour. I am an excellent wife. I have sex regularly but my husband ejaculates in seconds, so penetrative sex means I barely have time to blink before its over. I want more, I have a capacity to give more, to enter a parallel world, hoping that the lines never merge……….. I want to experience a guilty pleasure.
I deal with facts so I researched before signing up to AM. Woman tend to have affairs for emotional reasons, men for sex. I am a man then, as I don’t want the emotion I want raw, enjoyable, positive sex. I sign up to AM, I write nothing and leave it for months. Then in March this year I decide to complete my profile. And then it began……………………….
I spent time on my profile, clearing stating that I wanted sex. I wrote loads, adjusted it, tweaked it, played with it. The responses came in thick and fast and constant, a deluge of men wanting sex with a stranger. I start communicating, it is fun, it is joyful, it is deceitful, it is questionable but it is like a drug. I trawl through and select a couple. I identify them in my mind by their trades. Bankers, doctors, finance directors, company secretaries, designers etc etc. I am surprised at the level of professional men, maybe because they have to invest a substantial amount of time and money into making this a positive experience for them. It separates the wheat from the chaff. No text speak here!
I have devised a system. a) Have had sex b) Arranged to meet c) Talked d) emailed. Leo is a c, probably will be a b and then who knows.
I don’t have sex on a first meeting.
I start communicating with Peter (name changed). He has his own business. He is a flatterer and obviously a player. He has a charm which I can not quantify and we quickly progress via messaging to providing our mobile numbers. I am celebrating in London with my family and face timing an absent family member, when up pops Peter (and I mean pops up). I quickly grab my phone, fortunately the lightening is dim and the family are distracted. I have quickly learnt how to adjust the settings on the phone so no preview ever comes up. I have password protected everything, I am entering the secret world.
We arrange to meet. On the day of the meet I find myself at the hairdressers. I go to the hairdressers normally just to have my hair trimmed (not washed, not blow dried) it costs me £10.50. Suddenly I am lying to my hairdresser why I want my hair blowed dried, I tell her I have a school reunion, on my next visit she asks me how it went, I mumble about how good it was. I am paying £25.00 so decided that since the hair will get messy during sex in the future my potential lovers will get me as I am.
We meet at a London tube station, he looks fortunately like his photograph although shorter. He kisses me, strange to kiss a stranger in my opinion. He tells me I look gorgeous, I am wearing a dress as usual. I resist the urge to tell him he looks short.
We cross the road, his arm around my waist and we end up in this seedy Wetherspoons Pub filled with drinkers nursing their pint. A tune is running through my head “they all share a drink called loneliness, but its better than drinking alone” I don’t fit into this pub. Sticky carpet and even sticker tables. He buys me my mineral water (I have requested the lid remains on closed) and he has a cranberry juice. I have never met a man who has drunk Cranberry Juice in a pub, or even drunk Cranberry juice I find is disconcerting. I have set a time limit but surprise myself at how much fun we had, we laughed, we explored our boundaries, he tried to put his hand up my dress, I reminded him we were under CCTV. We discussed how much we could see without our glasses, we talked about his book club. From the outset he told me he had lied about his age because he found Ashley Madison was not successful for his age group. I didn’t mind and indeed changed my own search parameters as I felt I was missing on on potential matches.
We agreed to have sex at a date set. He would book a local hotel (he probably has a season ticket and loyalty points discount). The day arrived for sex.
I met him in the pub nearby, we drank red wine. I am not much of a drinker but the by product of having numerous affairs is that I have learnt to love red wine, my consumption of alcohol has increased as has my weight due to the volume of drinks and dinners having an affair involves. Sometimes I want tea, they don’t. He complimented me, we laughed, I whispered cunt into his ear, well I thought I had whispered it but by the looks of shock from the businessmen at the table behind I feel the alcohol had made my voice louder. I blushed beetroot, he laughed. We left. For the first time in over 24 years I was going to have sex with another man.
I was dreading the undressing bit, although I am very comfortable in my own skin, I still find the idea of somebody seeing me naked terrifying. He calmly took off my dress and lingerie and ignored me my desperate attempts at covering up until I was comfortable enough to discard the pillows, the sheets, the bedspread, the towels, the clothing I was grabbing to cover my body.
Sex was blinding. His cock was thick far thicker than I had ever experienced. He was skilful. He was considerate, he enjoyed giving. He bought me to orgasm first time with his tongue, a wonderful crashing climax that meant I could finally let go. He gleefully discovered that I was multi orgasmic and carried on stoking, probing, licking bringing me to orgasm time and time again. I found myself making noises, arching up to meet him, wanting him. I watched his face as he first entered me, the first man since I had met my husband 24 years previously, he had a twinkle in his eyes and was speaking softly reassuring, directive. He asked me to explore other avenues of adventure within my body to consider different forms of sex that I had never experienced, he said he would be gentle.
We carried on for hours. We stopped every so often and had a picnic in the room. How strange to be sitting naked (ok I used a sheet) drinking red wine and eating guacamole and hummus after having sex with a man you had met online. We have a shared love of tomatoes and we had a punnet of tomatoes which we giggled about, we had discussed at length Green & Black’s milk chocolate and agreed we did not like salted caramel. We did a lot of giggling and raucous laughter as a large vacuum of air meant resoundingly loud fanny farts, which sent us into spasms of laughter with tears running down our cheeks. I felt well fucked. I lie there with my favourite Tennyson poem running through my mind “Branches they bore of that enchanted stem, Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave.
Nurturing our desires: Exploring passions at the fringes of society 