End of an Affair

I shook my head no and answered, "No, it was very good - but we didn't use protection. I can't get pregnant, not at my age. And what's more, my husband had a vasectomy a long time ago. If I get pregnant, it's going to be pretty easy for him to figure out he isn't the father!"

Byron put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Relax, after our last kid was born, I also had a vasectomy, and it's still holding to this day."

With relief, I laid my head on his chest. I didn't know the future of this new "thing" we had just created, but I did know that we had better learn to be the utmost careful in all things to do with it, because I knew I didn't want anybody else to know about it, and I'm sure he felt the same way.

We quickly got back to presentable - well, at least on the outside anyway. Inside, I was a firestorm of emotions - still excited to know that another man found me desirable enough to fuck me; nervous hoping that my panties were going to contain what he had left behind; uncertain to whether this was a one-time thing or if we were going to try to do it again; and perhaps most prominently, confusion as to how I let this happen. For some reason, the guilt I expected to feel had not come over me yet.

Byron came over and kissed me and gave me a hug. There were no words - what do you say to the person with whom you just broke your marriage vows? He started out the door when I called out to him. He stopped and looked at me, confused as to why I stopped him.

"Do you remember what you really came over here for? The new offer?"

With a sheepish grin, he sauntered back over to the breakfast bar. I dug the offer sheet out and reviewed the contents with him, but it was not easy to do, knowing that I expected his semen to start dripping down my leg before too long, and knowing he was the man responsible for that.

He signed the offer, and then gave me another kiss. This time before he headed to the door one more time, he whispered in my ear, "That was great - you are beautiful and sexy, and I hope we get to do it again!"

I was boiling with excitement inside as I watched him walk out the door. It was when he pulled away that the enormity of what had just happened hit me, and for the first time I felt the guilt wash over me. My husband loved me, and I loved him! I had selfishly ignored that love so I could have my desire to feel attractive met! That wasn't what a "good" wife did - a good wife accepts that a strong relationship isn't just about sex and puts aside her own selfish needs to be there for her husband.

The drive back to the office gave me time to think about what I had done. By the time I had pulled into the parking lot, I had convinced myself that it was a one-time mistake that wouldn't happen again. That decision was fortified when I got into the office restroom so I could clean up the contents of my cheating pussy that were making a huge mess of my panties.

That night at home I tried to act as normal as possible, although it wasn't necessary, because Rich wasn't going to pay attention to me after I cheated if he wasn't paying attention to me before. I had left the office early to get home before him and take a shower to wash away the "evidence" of my affair. Even dressed casually after the shower, he still didn't seem to notice me, other than the obligatory "Hi, how was your day?" The more he ignored me, the more the guilt drained away and I started to feel justified doing what I had done. Other than idle conversation, there was no effort made to acknowledge me that evening, and when we went to bed without even one kiss, I was already making plans to get with Byron again.

It turned out that meeting up with him for sex wasn't as difficult as I might have originally thought. He suggested we each create a private email account to message back and forth, since we both used our phones for work communication and didn't need evidence appearing on them. He was the owner of his own accounting firm, so it wasn't unusual for him to be out of the office visiting with clients during the day; therefore his absence for our meetings wasn't suspicious.

My job was the same way. I showed houses during the day, and in fact, that was where we agreed would be the best places for getting together. It was only houses that were listed by the company I worked for, so that even if some other realtor on the multi-list wanted to show the house, they'd have to get the keys from us, and if I had the key to the house with me, I knew they couldn't get it until I returned it.

We just had to be careful not to get caught, so listed houses without curtains or blinds did not work. I also tried to pick furnished houses, but that wasn't always possible, so there were times like our first time together that we had to be creative in our positioning. We switched up times, so there was no pattern that could be detected. We also learned that if we were in a hurry, or didn't want to worry about cleaning up, that oral sex was just as fun, and we could still get each other off. In those cases, I'd usually lay on the kitchen counter while he used his tongue and fingers to bring me to orgasm, and then I'd drop to my knees and take him in my mouth.

Even when we fucked, often we would finish with him in my mouth anyway, since I was able to swallow the evidence of his orgasm and we didn't have to worry about cleaning up after. This was especially true when we hooked up in the mornings, eliminating the possibility of his residue leaking out the rest of the day. But in case he went all the way and unloaded deep inside me, I'd learned to keep an extra pair if panties in a zippered compartment in my realtor bag so that if my panties got too soiled, I could quickly change pairs before the evidence leaked too far.

Our biggest challenge was making sure we didn't get together so often that people would start to suspect things. I knew with Rich that after my first time, I was going to be able to keep it from him since one of the whole points of my affair was that he'd pretty much ignored me for several years. Plus he and Byron's wife Gloria couldn't really leave their jobs during the day like Byron and I could. The frequency we settled upon didn't raise any suspicions of any of our co-workers, because it just seemed like we were going out to do our jobs.

I realized at the time that if I got caught in a house I was supposed to be showing, I'd likely be fired. That was a greater fear to me than getting discovered by Rich, simply because I knew Rich would never happen upon a house I was showing. So Byron and I made sure we rotated houses, trying not to go to the same one more than once. That way neighbors of those houses wouldn't expect anything either.

We thought we had it all covered. And for ten months, we did. I didn't count the number of times we got together, but on average we went two weeks between meetings, with a couple of extras thrown in at random when one of us just "needed" to have some extra sexy time. Each time was just as reassuring as the time before. Knowing somebody wanted my body and to share his with me was so exhilarating. It wasn't that the sex was so great - in all honesty, Byron was no better than Rich at making love. But at the time, I needed to be wanted, and Byron wanted me enough to work as hard as I did to make the affair happen.

It became the new normal. Rich wasn't getting hurt because he was hardly ever touching me sexually, let alone acknowledging me as a sexual being with desires to be wanted and needed. Byron provided those things for me. I saw no reason to quit.

******

Now I sat in front of our computer monitor, sobbing at the loss of the man who for ten months provided me with the intimacy and attention I craved. I had been with him just this afternoon, and it was as if I could still feel the tingle from the sex we shared with each other. I would miss the sex, but I also knew I would miss so much more. I knew, because we sent daily email messages back and forth to each other, telling each other how much we missed being together, and how we could hardly wait to be together today, even if it was just for a half-hour tryst.

But our emails had gotten deeper than that. We both had no desire to leave our spouses. I even thought I loved Rich more while I was having my affair with Byron, because I didn't feel the same despair and loneliness I felt when there was no intimacy at all coming my way. It was as if Byron was taking the pressure off of Rich, even though Rich had no idea what was going on.

Byron and I shared details about our families, our jobs, even about the good times when our spouses were providing things for us that we weren't getting now. We celebrated achievements and provided consolation and strength for each other when things weren't going well. It seemed he was interested in every little detail in my life, and I felt the same about his.

We even joked that we thought our spouses would be good for each other, since neither seemed too interested in providing intimacy and affection. We had worked plans for an imaginary swap, laughing that while it would never happen, it seemed to make logical sense.

All that was gone, and while I would miss the sex, it was the relationship that was going to be hard to forget. I knew I couldn't - I knew that what Byron and I shared was going to be a part of me for the rest of my life. And yet that knowledge did nothing to ease the pain and grief I was feeling.

I thought of Rich - there was no way he could ever see me grieve, because I would not be able to tell him why I was hurting so much. And yet I didn't know how I was going to hide it from him. I couldn't even walk about into the living room right at that moment even if I had wanted to, because I wouldn't be able to explain to him why I was sobbing. I couldn't tell him why my heart had been torn into pieces.

My first problem was the fact that Rich would be going to bed soon, and if I couldn't stop my crying, I had no idea how I was going to hide it from him. The crying wasn't going to stop, at least not for the foreseeable future. So my option was to stay in the office until I thought he might be asleep, and then crawl into bed next to him, hoping not to disturb him. In the morning, he would get up and leave before I did, and since he usually didn't come over and do so much as kiss me before he left, I knew I would be safe.

So that's what I did. I put a different news site on the computer, and if Rich did happen to say anything on his way up the stairs, I would tell him I was just catching up with interesting articles on the internet. Of course, he said nothing, and when I heard his feet ascend the stairs, I relaxed. That brought on more crying and sobbing, because without the fear of being caught, I was able to let my emotions really go for the first time.

I went back to the story I had read confirming his death. I simply sat there and stared at his name on the screen, while reliving memories we had made together. I thought back to that first time we fucked, and the process we created to keep our affair going in secret from our spouses and everybody else. Each memory that surfaced brought with it another round of tears. At that point, I didn't see how I was going to go on while trying to hide my grief from the world. I was falling into a dark abyss, and I couldn't turn to anybody to help me climb out.

It was during that thought that another one hit me. I re-read the article on the screen - the last sentence suddenly stood out like a dark cloud, wrapping me up and suffocating the life out of me. "It is believed that excessive speed may have been a contributing cause to the accident." The police must have thought he was speeding - oh God! We had actually extended our session, since we were in a furnished house with a bed available, instead of the usually empty residence. Because of that, we had each enjoyed two orgasms, one oral, and one together. When we had finished fucking, he had looked at his phone and lamented the fact that it was so late, and he had to hurry. The last I saw him was a quick kiss on the lips in the bedroom before he hurried out the front door.

Was the extra length of our tryst today the reason he was speeding? Had I caused his accident by keeping him longer than usual? I tried to remind myself that he was also part of the decision process this afternoon, and it was ridiculous for me to take the blame. But in my fragile state already, my mind wasn't listening to reason. All it could see was the damage that extra sex today may have caused. It may have caused the death of my lover, trying to race back to his office or his loving family, straight from being between my spread legs, thrusting his cock in my pussy.

The tears kept flowing. I shut down the computer, being sure to erase the browser history so Rich could not see what sites I had visited. By this time it had been an hour since Rich went to bed, so I was fairly certain he would be asleep by now. I walked up the stairs and stood outside our bedroom door. The regular rate of his breathing told me he was asleep, so I walked in as quietly as possible and went into the bathroom that was attached to our bedroom.

I closed the door and turned on the lights. I was shocked to look in the mirror and see my face swollen and red. Apparently I had been crying more than I realized. I took a wash cloth from the drawer and soaked it in cold water and held it over my face. The shock of the cold seemed to stop the tears for at least a few seconds. I took my clothes off and looked at myself in the mirror again. Seeing my naked body brought back the memory of our afternoon together today, and the orgasms Byron gave me with his tongue and his cock. The realization that I would never have that from him again brought the crying back, and before I slipped my nightshirt on, I used the cold cloth on my face one more time.

I crawled in bed next to Rich, but sleep did not come. Tears soaked my pillow as I continued my flashbacks back to those exciting times with Byron. My mouth reflexively opened as I thought about the times where we didn't want to clean up after we were finished, so I let Byron cum in my mouth. I remembered earlier that very afternoon, when he spanked my ass while he was taking me from behind, and how I would have loved to experience more of that since Rich wasn't that adventurous, except I couldn't risk any marks on my body that might suggest I was doing something I shouldn't - not that Rich was spending any time looking at my naked body.

With thoughts like that bombarding my brain, I curled up into the tightest fetal position I could muster. I had to turn my pillow over after a while, so I could have a dry spot to lay my head since the tears would not stop. When I had gone through all the memories my brain could hold, I was left with one single question - how was I going to survive this?

I must have dozed, because when my husband's alarm went off in the morning, I wasn't expecting it. If he held to form, he'd get up and head for the shower without waking me, so I knew I should be able to avoid him until at least when he came home from work later in the afternoon. He came out of the shower and went straight to the clothes he had laid out the night before, so he wouldn't have to turn on the light in the closet and risk disturbing me.

As he dressed, I realized a couple of things - that I usually wasn't awake when he was getting ready for work, and that he took caution to make sure he didn't disturb me as he showered and dressed. I hadn't paid attention to those little things before, and now I was surprised to find out the efforts he was taking to let me sleep late. I also knew that he was a creature of habit and did the same things every day, but it was nice to know at some point in time he was thinking of my needs over his.

I heard Rich's footsteps on the stairway. I knew he'd stop to drink the coffee he had gotten ready in the coffee maker the night before. I also knew there'd be something quick for breakfast - sometimes fruit, but usually just a granola bar. Soon I could hear him open and then shut the front door, and I knew I had the rest of the day to myself.

I got up and went into the bathroom again. I turned on the light and looked in the mirror, and saw that my face was still a wreck, still swollen from a night full of tears. There was no way I could go to work today, but I knew I had a couple of house showings lined up. The tears started again when I realized one of the showings was at the house where Byron and I had fucked yesterday for what turned out to be the last time. I didn't think I could ever go in that house again.

I got my phone and texted another agent in the office - the one who was my best friend - and asked her if she could take my showings for the day. I didn't figure she would be up this early, but my hope was that she would see it and respond quickly enough so that I didn't have to worry about it the rest of the day. But just in case she couldn't - especially the furnished house - I texted another agent to be a backup in case the first one could not help me out.

With that done, I was lost. I had no idea what to do. I tried to lie down again, but sleep was still eluding me. I needed something to keep me busy, so that maybe my mind wouldn't dwell on the affair and what happened yesterday. I drew a hot bath and placed some soothing oils in it, hoping that the hot water and the atmosphere would help me take my mind off of Byron. It helped, but I'd still had the occasional flashbacks to those secret times with him. I wondered if there would ever be a time when I did not think of what I had been doing.

I got out of the bath and found some things to do that had been neglected around the house. I'd work until the tears would overcome me again, and then I'd sit down and try to compose myself. I repeated that cycle three or four times, and was satisfied that at least I had been somewhat productive.

I checked the mirror again, and decided I needed to take a shower before Rich got home. Afterwards, I started supper - something I didn't always get a chance to do, since I often had late afternoon and evening house showings. I prepared myself for his arrival - I knew I had to keep my emotions in check in front of him, and I couldn't hide from him for the next few days or weeks or however long it took to work through this.

Rich arrived home right at 5:30, just like clockwork. He looked at me with a little confusion on his face as he smelled supper already cooking. I could tell he was trying to process everything, but I wasn't going to say anything until he asked. Finally I think it got the best of him.

"Are you just home early? This is a nice surprise to smell supper cooking already."

I tried to play it as straight as possible, without alerting him to my emotional state. So I calmly answered, "I didn't go to the office today. I woke up with some kind of allergy problem that had my head spinning all day, so I had someone cover my showings and stayed here. I thought supper being ready for you when you got home would be a nice surprise for you."

He walked over and gave me a kiss on the cheek - a very rare occurrence the past few years, and one that certainly made me take notice. Normally we would fall into a very dull routine in the evenings - no talking during dinner, then head straight into the living room and watch TV. We sometimes discussed what we would watch, but that was usually it. The noise of the TV kept the deafening silence from being too overbearing.

Usually I would detest the silence, but tonight I was hoping for it. It would be much easier to hide my grief if we weren't sharing in needless conversation. Fortunately, after the surprising kiss on the cheek we reverted back to our usual mundane ways. I tried to focus on the TV shows he picked to watch, but my mind couldn't help but wander to Byron and the times we shared with each other. I began a bizarre inventory of our trysts together, trying to think of each and every one, knowing that our hook-ups had become so numerous that recalling individual sessions would be impossible.