A Page a Day..

Let’s go back in time, who was I?

Well, there I was, a regular hard-working guy. Forty-six years old, 5ft 9in, weighing in at about 12st 8lbs (overweight – a bit). Good looking (ish). Brown hair. Looked after myself, I had a well-shaped body, thankfully, and am not embarrassed of any part! I liked to stay in shape (ish), I find it brings confidence. I was not shy, which is liberating. Dressed well and smelt good. Not vain, but self-conscious of how I appeared. I enjoyed nice clothes, I was picky about what I wore; if I wore something and saw a photo of myself and that piece of clothing looked horrendous, then I would bin it and wear it no more!

I had my own style; I would say smart and slick. I loved good quality comfortable shoes, oh and I like watches... I have about twelve, not many but enough. I was manly and liked to be manly, but in touch with my feminine side. PMSL… I was once labelled by a female work colleague as “metrosexual”.

I enjoy manly things such as cars and gadgets. I always related to Tim the Tool Man Taylor from Home Improvements. LOL, I do like a bit of DIY and so on.

By the way, all the above are still the case, apart from being forty-six.

I had always been loyal until my affair. I loved sex (always have) and liked to talk about it. I didn’t shy away from the subject and I liked to know what others (my wife) liked. I enjoyed dirty talk and not just boring missionary position. I enjoy my manhood, penis, cock and what it can do. Or what others can do with it. I think sex is a taboo subject to a degree, yet it is one of the most pleasurable, powerful, destructive attributes we have. I love my sexuality and the pleasure it gives. I am not just talking about the act, (of course that is great) but the build-up to the act can be better sometimes, the anticipation, the flirting and movements along with the dress code. How a woman moves and responds. The flick of her hair, the look in her eye. I love those aspects. Sometimes just to lay together and chat, touch, play, laugh and connect are as big as intercourse itself. Flirting is an amazing act. It taunts and teases, makes us fantasise, dream and want, and we’ll do things we possibly should not do.

In a marriage, flirting is essential and should never stop, by either party.

Ok, try this.

I imagine Mitchell and me getting ready to go out for dinner.

Mitchell showers. I watch her as she moves the other side of the steamed-up glass. She rubs herself slowly and precisely. Flicks her hair. She gets out of the shower, walks up to me and presses her wet body against mine. She feels warm from the hot water. But she doesn’t want more, no, not yet, and I am happy about that.

She dries herself and starts to dress. She puts on the sexiest underwear. A classy bra and skimpy G-strings.

She flirts and moves with confidence. The curtains are open; she knows people can see her if they want to. She dresses to kill. She walks past me and puts her hand on me and says I want you later… I smile.

We get in the car and drive. We get to the restaurant and order dinner and wine. She drinks and plays footsie. She knows what she wants alright. After great conversation and some serious laughing, I pay the bill get in the car, but en-route home, as we drive through the forest she tells me to stop the car. I stop. She gets out and walks to the front of the car. I sit there and watch. The glow of the headlights on her turns her into a beautiful silhouette. She points at me. I get out and walk to her in the glow of the headlights. She puts her hands on the car bonnet, turns and looks at me. We move slowly, not yet… not yet. We move on and drive home, drink some wine and take it to the bedroom, and have a great time.

Fantasy or fiction?