NEEDED SOME ATTENTION
I've secretly had the hots for this handsome black guy at work, but I'm married so I just fantasize about him. One evening after work he invited me to join him for a ******* before heading home and I did. We had more than a couple of drinks and the conversation escalated quickly. There was no mistaking that he was trying to get into the sack and I was starting to think that wasn't a bad idea. My conscience was working overtime but so were my desires. I could feel my panties getting damp at the thought of screwing him. I was thinking all the thoughts I was supposed to be thinking:
I’m a married woman.
What the hell am I doing?
I’m not too ******* to stop this right now.
I can still say No.
It’s not too late. I can back out anytime.
Do I really want to do this?
Am I sure?
This went on for about half an hour. With every fresh margarita, I was losing the battle of conscience. I told him if we were going to do it we had to hurry; it was getting late and I had to get home. He went and got a room in the hotel where we were drinking.
But once I took that first step away from the table, room key in hand, I’d made my decision. As we rode the elevator, my thoughts continued to swirl with misgivings. But I knew I wanted it. I knew I wanted him. And the deciding factor: he wanted me. It had been a long time since I had felt this kind of excitement with my husband.
Here was someone, a very good-looking someone, that found me desirable. He saw me as a sexual being. He found me attractive enough to want to spend time with even though he was a good ten years younger. He saw me as someone worth taking the time and energy to convince me to fuck him.
And because of that, because he wanted me I gave in. I allowed another man to kiss me and touch me and caress me and taste me and fuck me
until I came over and over again.
I've secretly had the hots for this handsome black guy at work, but I'm married so I just fantasize about him. One evening after work he invited me to join him for a ******* before heading home and I did. We had more than a couple of drinks and the conversation escalated quickly. There was no mistaking that he was trying to get into the sack and I was starting to think that wasn't a bad idea. My conscience was working overtime but so were my desires. I could feel my panties getting damp at the thought of screwing him. I was thinking all the thoughts I was supposed to be thinking:
I’m a married woman.
What the hell am I doing?
I’m not too ******* to stop this right now.
I can still say No.
It’s not too late. I can back out anytime.
Do I really want to do this?
Am I sure?
This went on for about half an hour. With every fresh margarita, I was losing the battle of conscience. I told him if we were going to do it we had to hurry; it was getting late and I had to get home. He went and got a room in the hotel where we were drinking.
But once I took that first step away from the table, room key in hand, I’d made my decision. As we rode the elevator, my thoughts continued to swirl with misgivings. But I knew I wanted it. I knew I wanted him. And the deciding factor: he wanted me. It had been a long time since I had felt this kind of excitement with my husband.
Here was someone, a very good-looking someone, that found me desirable. He saw me as a sexual being. He found me attractive enough to want to spend time with even though he was a good ten years younger. He saw me as someone worth taking the time and energy to convince me to fuck him.
And because of that, because he wanted me I gave in. I allowed another man to kiss me and touch me and caress me and taste me and fuck me
until I came over and over again.