Sex Tip #11: Perhaps Don't Sleep with a Married Man

This has been a difficult post to prepare.

I have a few other things I wanted to write about, but this one seems to have taken over my brain.

I know Holly's story about adultery. I know what she wrote in here. I know what else she told me about it. I understand the context. I don't judge her for what she did. Part of me doesn't approve of it. Part of me understands it. She knows how I feel about it all. All my conflicting feelings.

Being a divorced person is an interesting cross to bear. Particularly in a Christian community. My relationship with Barry is working for what it is. And for that I'm grateful and happy.

But I don't know how I would deal with being in a marriage and needing to get out, like Holly's situation. So I don't judge.

But in the end, I called this sex tip not sleeping with a married man. Perhaps. I say perhaps because I'm mostly sure it's wrong. And I think I'm informed about it and not just speculating.

And the funny coincidence...maybe not so funny is that my informed state comes from Keats camp, which is sort of connected to Holly's situation.

So. The story. Holly has convinced me it's worth telling.

Some time before I went to church with no bra on I went to Keats camp for an event. The nature of it isn't relevant. It had couples and singles and more than a few divorced people and divorced people who were remarried.

I met a woman in one of the workshop groups. "Patty" had 3 kids, in her mid-thirties, married to "Frank" for almost 12 years and was a relatively new Christian with her Frank. She was also a deeply funny person. Amazing sense of humour. But she also was lacking an ability to be open and honest. That came up in the group. There were 5 women and she and her friend shared insights about each other. Quite open in that sense, but never really for her was there anything that she would share about herself of substance.

And that was ok in the end because we're all strangers. But her friend kept remarking on how hard it was to get anything from her.

Anyway that was most of my impression of her. Frank I quite liked. A gentle guy who played ice hockey 3 times a week. Yay. He knew what physicality meant but he was also an emotionally aware guy. Not lots of them around. Generally quite happy but in the end only mostly. Missing something was my sense of him.

So a number of us exchanged email addresses and stuff and we thought about meeting a few weeks after the Keats event for a chat and an update on issues we talked about there.

Nothing came of that. Good intentions but that was it.

Then a few days after I went to church without a bra [which has become a kind of marker separating events for me this summer], Frank emails and we start chatting about things: work, life, church, parenting, but not marriage. A few emails go by and I'm enjoying this, but I'm thinking, what about Patty? A few more emails and he gets to it. He's thinking he's unhappy but he's blocked in figuring it out.

We meet after work one night for a glass of wine and start talking about things. He's a bookeeper and works late a lot and I feel like the other woman. He's also a transit guy too and we take the #20 back towards home. I get off first to connect to my bus and before I stand up to go, he puts his hand on my knee when we're saying bye. Not overtly. Not meaninglessly either. Felt nice. Tingles even. I liked that. But I also felt guilty. For good reason.

Then a few weeks ago when summer has definitely given up trying to actually be here, we meet again for wine after work. We talk some more about all the safe topics and then he gets onto the place I figured he was at: out of love with his wife and 3 kids. He is showing some sadness but I know he's hiding much more sadness because maybe we're in a bar.

I ask if he'd like to come over to talk more. Yes. Cab ride. Home. A bottle of wine opened. And after about 10 minutes he's just letting it all out. So sad at it being dead for him. And he gets quiet into a funk.

I never liked hockey players in high school. Frank's no hockey player, but he plays hockey. That kind of thing ran through my head a lot that night at the bar. Totally off topic, but it was the issue of what I think of him kicking around in my head. Underneath it all was being available for him as a person, but I also wanted to have sex with him. Never consciously in my head, but always in between the lines.

And in his funk I put my hand on his knee and he puts his hand on my hand. Then on my knee. Then on my shoulder and we're kissing. Then it's on my breast and mine is on his crotch and from there we're having sex on the couch and I loved it. Duh.

I didn't cum, but he really did and pretty briskly. He hadn't had sex in weeks and weeks he said. I could tell. He masturbated a lot but he hadn't fucked his wife in so long. A sexless rut that was more than a rut I thought.

After the sex we just hung out on the couch doing the cuddle thing while he played with my nipples. Eventually I got him hard again and we fucked again until I came. In the end it helped that his finger was in my bum when we were in the doggy position. I wanted to come so badly because if I was having sex with a married man I wanted to at least feel some joy in it and for all the time we were doing it and I didn't come I wanted to. And I started getting anxious about it. Go ahead and psychoanalyze that. Good luck to ya! :)

And then we broke it off. He emailed the next day and said he wasn't sure we should do it again. I emailed back saying ok. I'm also talking with Holly about it and she's easing my grief/guilt. But the next day he phones and comes over on the Saturday afternoon and we fuck some more. And then again this past Saturday afternoon.

And as it is now, I don't want to stop because I like how he does my bum. I like how he sucks me and I like the illicit nature of it all. It's a mad rush.

But I also feel bad. He's in charge of his marriage, but I'm truly the other woman. And the biggest thing, though I've talked with Holly about this, I haven't talked to Barry. And I don't have a real sense of why. We're not exclusive and we've been with others since last winter, but I just don't want to talk to him about it. Maybe I'd feel ashamed around him? Don't know. He's not one to judge so there's no risk there.

Maybe it's my conscience. But until I figure it all out, the sex tip is to not sleep with married men.

In dreams,
Tina