What is it about having the usual balance and routine expectations pulled from under me that send my emotions and sexual appetite up a rocket ride and crash with equal fury and explosiveness? A few weeks ago, after a long diet of tall blondes and redheads, extra young, with a side of coltish legs, he tells me about some petite, dark olive skinned woman with whom he has been running in the mornings. For the last six months. Six what?!

She told him this and that, but she is married. Do I think she is trying to tell him that she is available? Is Mr. Casanova serious?

She confided in him about her marriage and that her husband is abroad on business for the next few months. Whoa.

He asked if I think it is a good idea to invite her to run that trail in the woods with him. A trail in the woods? Won’t she think that is a little creepy scary?

I had an important trip this past weekend. I thought, he’s playing a game with me. Well, I could not play. I dismissed him.

I went the whole time with no cell signal, no wi-fi, nothing, until finally arriving at a different hotel, saturday night. There was an email from late morning. I must have started holding my breath then. He took her running in the woods at the crack of dawn. There was talking about the lack of intimacy in her marriage. There was comforting. There was first kiss. And more kissing. She invited him to lunch, at her empty house, 1pm. He sounded giddy, romantic, dopey eyed. I realized I was gasping for breath. It was nearly midnight. I checked through the emails. Did I miss one? I checked spam, nothing. I didn’t know what ached more, my pussy or my heart. My fingers swam briefly and I came quickly, in crushing tidal waves. My cunt settled down to a steady throbbing while my heart continued to sledge-hammer my chest.

I hardly slept, my mind raced and sprinted. I tossed and turned the next five and a half hours before I was able to speak with him. Typically, I can grill you until you lie to make a confession. That morning, I could not bring myself to say more than, “it looks like a nice day out,” much less ask the questions that had been screaming inside. My quietness scared him. He said talk to him, ask him anything, like I usually do. I don’t remember what he said after a little while, but whatever it was, it confirmed they fucked. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t swallow. My heart was pounding so hard, I was shaking.

“What time did you leave?” I asked.

“Five,” he answered. 

“How many times did she cum for you?”

“Three, maybe four.”

“You?”

“Two. The first time was in –”

“No… shut ... uppp!”

I cried and I came twice, again.