Swimming Lessons

Her swimsuits slips along with her morals and his trunks

Affairs || Hot MILF || Big D -DILF || Quick & Dirty || 18+

The heatwave arrived in the city fat and humid and annoyed, limping through the sweltering streets and fraying the tempers of every single living being. Even the pigeons sulked, seeking shade rather than harassing the park goers and al fresco dinners. The children were off school, dysregulated and furious, sticky with ice lollies and diet soda. I had the fan on when you rang.

‘Pool? Julie and I have tickets.’

A no brainer. Of course we would go. My girls shrieking with joy, gathering towels and swimming goggles. Inflatable balls and sun-cream. I spent far too long thinking about which swimsuit to wear. All of them not quite covering me the way they used to. A bit frayed and tired. Like me, I think, as I twist my hair into a bun and pull a sundress over my one-piece.

I spend too long thinking about it because I spend too long thinking about you. Which is such a ridiculous pastime. Your marriage is a shining beacon of light in the middle of divorcing suburbia. Our roles on the PTA at our children’s school affording us the opportunity to know each other a little better than the others on the school run. My husband travels so much. Too much. All the time. The endless, endless after school activities I have to attend on my own.

My daydreaming is a simple way to pass the time, and maybe get me off, once or twice when my vibrator hits that spot. Your hands start to feature. The ones that brush mine when we’re collecting money at the fundraiser, or that time you opened the car door for me and I felt your hand on my lower back. Did it linger longer than it needed to?

I think about what your cock might taste like. I come. Hard. My hips jut and buck, I bite my fist. Gush. And then feel that slow creep of shame. You being married, me being married. My fingers wet and sticky, the school bus due home in twenty minutes.