My Story

Part One

Food shopping and chores done for the day, I logged onto Facebook, not expecting a great deal - application requests, meaningless posts, inane status updates, the usual. Oh, and of course, a poke. There's always a poke, some people are still amused by them! I usually ignore them, but this one had been sent by a name that grabbed my attention - Edwin Johnson.

I just stared at the screen, Edwin Johnson has poked you. My heart actually leapt, I'm sure of it. Edwin, or Ed to his friends, was a guy I'd seen for a couple of verrrrrry intense months after I left university and was in training with the airline where I've worked for over nine years. He was a badboy, a player, a guy with a reputation that occasionally made the local newspapers. We'd met on a night out, through a friend of a friend's boyfriend, you know how it is. I knew he was wrong, that he wasn't boyfriend material, but I was single and looking for fun. And we'd had fun, alot of fun!

Memories came flooding back, many of them of a sexual nature. I snapped myself out of it, telling myself it was years ago. "You're married now, to a fantastic man, a captain at the airline. And you have a great life, a lovely house, a good career." No matter how much I told myself not to, I clicked on the poke and up popped the profile for Edwin Johnson.

The photo was typical Ed, a black and white picture, head and shoulders, dark, brooding, menacing even, and those eyes, intense, piercing. Quickly, I clicked the button to poke back, immediately rebuking myself for not just ignoring it. Almost immediately, a friend request came back from Ed. My stomach suddenly felt knotted. I couldn't add him. My husband would ask questions, my brother knew who he was and would ask questions, bloody hell, my mum would ask questions!

I ignored the request, but I couldn't let it end like that, it was rude. I typed a brief message, a little jokey, thanking him for the poke, but explaining that it would make life a bit awkward if I added him. I clicked send. I should have logged off, but I didn't, I wanted to see if he replied. And he did. In record time! His typing must have improved alot over the years! The reply said not to worry, but to add him on MSN. He didn't ask, he just said, "Add me".

I copied the email address, logged into MSN and added Ed to my list of contacts. A message box popped up immediately.

"Hi Sarah, been a long time"

"Hi Ed. How's you?"

And then his avatar appeared. It was a picture of his dick, his hard dick. I don't know why I was surprised, he'd never been shy about it! It looked even bigger than I remembered. My husband is blessed in that department too, but Ed was the biggest I'd had.

"Can't complain. How's SLU?"

SLU had been his nickname for me, a shortened version of Sarah-Lou, to which he would often add a 't' during intimate moments.

"Same here, can't complain either!"

"Still got those long, sexy legs SLU?"

"Of course!" I replied, smiling. He'd always had a thing for my legs.

"Show me them"

I read the message, and then re-read it. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, my mind racing, what to write, what to write. I could have lied, have told him that our webcam was broken, but he'd have seen through that poor excuse. Instead I was honest, stupidly honest.

"I look a state. And I'm wearing jeans!"

"You? Looking a state? I doubt that SLU"

Even after almost a decade, he still knew me too well. Make up wasn't just part of my job, it was part of my daily routine. I never go out without my face on and my hair done!

The message box changed, he was inviting me to view his cam. I clicked on the invite, and there he was, sat in a nice chair in what appeared to be an office.

"Lose the jeans, you know what to wear for me SLU"

I inhaled sharply. I did know what to wear for him. I knew it, he knew it.

"OK, but give me 10 minutes. Brb x"

I left the study, shaking, my heart and mind racing. "You shouldn't be doing this. You're married for fuck's sake." Then the devil on my shoulder, "It's harmless fun. You live hundreds of miles away. Hubby's away." The devil was winning the race as I reached my bedroom, and he'd won by a country mile as I took off my jeans.