Til Death Do Us Part?
One of the most inimitable facets of being a hussy is laying claim to a plethora of lovers with diverse backgrounds and situations. In the long lines of boys seeking mature, commitment free frolics, there are bound to be some who are regretfully attached. Not all have take the long walk down the short aisle, but most have. Why would you bother cheating if you weren’t bound to someone else by slightly more than your word? In my humble opinion, there doesn’t seem to be much to gain in that situation. May as well just break up and be done with it.
Twice now I’ve found myself host to attached lovers. In fact, one of my very first forays into adult sexuality was via an insipid and spiritless affair with a married man. At the time I was a significantly different person; perhaps one of greater moral fortitude. After only four months, the relationship ended when I informed his wife of the true nature of her husbands numerous “business” trips. You might wonder what obligation or privilege I thought I had to spoil his fun, and rightfully so. Technically I was as guilty as he was, and as much a part of the pain inflicted on his wife as anyone else. Truthfully, the reason was because I was selfish, and sought to punish him for lying to me. And punish him I did, but not to make the wife feel better or because it was the right thing to do. Never trust me with your secrets.
A year ago I foolishly stumbled into another affair. Based on the learning experience the first affair provided me, I remain confused as to why I allowed it to happen again. There are innumerable difficulties in being a proper mistress. Most obviously is the fact that you are, and will always be, the other woman. You are not a primary participant, yet you haven’t the buoyancy of casual bystanders. Plus no one likes to share their toys. Beyond that, it’s important to note that affairs are not relationships; not even casual ones. There is absolutely no reciprocity in an affair because as a mistress, you aren’t, in fact, a real person. You exist merely as a fantasy. In the mind of the boy surely enamored with you, you don’t have a job to attend everyday, laundry to do, or friends to see. You never feel sick or bitchy or simply like being left the hell alone. You exist solely for the pleasure of that other person in the way that only fantasies can—adorned with thigh high stockings, garter belts, and balcony bras erotically posed on a bed/desk/counter/floor at all times. It’s wholly unrealistic to think a married man wants anything else in a mistress. If he wanted to see comfy cotton panties or hear about someone else’s day, he probably would have stayed home with his wife. At least fucking her is free. That’s what leads us to the benefits of being a mistress. It’s one word, and it’s so shallow that I’m ashamed to admit I fall prey to it. Presents. Mistresses get lots and lots of presents. New clothes, nifty tech toys, all manner of other toys, jewelry, lingerie, fancy room service, and anything else that isn’t nailed down and can be paid for with cash. Don’t get me wrong here. I do not have sex as a means of receiving gifts or being treated to dinner. However, I do appreciate appropriate compensation for interruptions to my day (and night) to engage in phone sex and otherwise stroke the “ego" of someone who offers me so little physically and emotionally.
Moving along now that I feel like a dirty, filthy person. I have a rule about boys searching for extra-marital fucking—I don’t sleep with fathers. While most of my behaviors have me indelibly marked for the bus straight to hell, I still can’t stomach indirectly affecting the lives of innocent children. See, I’m not completely devoid of ethics.
As I recently learned, my lover’s wife is pregnant with their first child, and thus this is the end for us. On the surface, I’m actually pleased that it’s over. He was too demanding and time consuming. At the levels below the superficial, however, I can’t say that I won’t miss it. Perhaps he was able to offer me something after all—it’s possible that he filled a void in my life as much as I did in his.
Twice now I’ve found myself host to attached lovers. In fact, one of my very first forays into adult sexuality was via an insipid and spiritless affair with a married man. At the time I was a significantly different person; perhaps one of greater moral fortitude. After only four months, the relationship ended when I informed his wife of the true nature of her husbands numerous “business” trips. You might wonder what obligation or privilege I thought I had to spoil his fun, and rightfully so. Technically I was as guilty as he was, and as much a part of the pain inflicted on his wife as anyone else. Truthfully, the reason was because I was selfish, and sought to punish him for lying to me. And punish him I did, but not to make the wife feel better or because it was the right thing to do. Never trust me with your secrets.
A year ago I foolishly stumbled into another affair. Based on the learning experience the first affair provided me, I remain confused as to why I allowed it to happen again. There are innumerable difficulties in being a proper mistress. Most obviously is the fact that you are, and will always be, the other woman. You are not a primary participant, yet you haven’t the buoyancy of casual bystanders. Plus no one likes to share their toys. Beyond that, it’s important to note that affairs are not relationships; not even casual ones. There is absolutely no reciprocity in an affair because as a mistress, you aren’t, in fact, a real person. You exist merely as a fantasy. In the mind of the boy surely enamored with you, you don’t have a job to attend everyday, laundry to do, or friends to see. You never feel sick or bitchy or simply like being left the hell alone. You exist solely for the pleasure of that other person in the way that only fantasies can—adorned with thigh high stockings, garter belts, and balcony bras erotically posed on a bed/desk/counter/floor at all times. It’s wholly unrealistic to think a married man wants anything else in a mistress. If he wanted to see comfy cotton panties or hear about someone else’s day, he probably would have stayed home with his wife. At least fucking her is free. That’s what leads us to the benefits of being a mistress. It’s one word, and it’s so shallow that I’m ashamed to admit I fall prey to it. Presents. Mistresses get lots and lots of presents. New clothes, nifty tech toys, all manner of other toys, jewelry, lingerie, fancy room service, and anything else that isn’t nailed down and can be paid for with cash. Don’t get me wrong here. I do not have sex as a means of receiving gifts or being treated to dinner. However, I do appreciate appropriate compensation for interruptions to my day (and night) to engage in phone sex and otherwise stroke the “ego" of someone who offers me so little physically and emotionally.
Moving along now that I feel like a dirty, filthy person. I have a rule about boys searching for extra-marital fucking—I don’t sleep with fathers. While most of my behaviors have me indelibly marked for the bus straight to hell, I still can’t stomach indirectly affecting the lives of innocent children. See, I’m not completely devoid of ethics.
As I recently learned, my lover’s wife is pregnant with their first child, and thus this is the end for us. On the surface, I’m actually pleased that it’s over. He was too demanding and time consuming. At the levels below the superficial, however, I can’t say that I won’t miss it. Perhaps he was able to offer me something after all—it’s possible that he filled a void in my life as much as I did in his.
posted by The Husskateer at 8:58 PM
2 Comments:
In my experience it is less black and white than you think. People do things for all kinds of reasons.
Whether correctly or not, I choose to believe that most men's primary motivation in dealing with women is sex, or some variation of physical companionship. With married men, I think it's generally their only motivation. Not to quote Sex & The City, but to believe anything else seems like buying into urban relationship myth to me. Of course, that's just my humble opinion.
Post a Comment
<< Home