The Legendary Mrs. Olsen's Next Day - Sex Stories

The Legendary Mrs. Olsen's Next Day

... had it been? Fifteen years at the very least since he’d left Philadelphia and headed for the coast. He’d been a fellow sales rep at her second job, more than a peer, less than a mentor, someone she could talk to and trust. Sparks had darted between them, but nothing had ever been said, no propositions had been made, she’d been dating the man who would become her husband. He had a wife, any affair would have been messy. But it was certainly nice to see him. As an 'expert' droned on about the latest technology, a small temblor in her gonads reminded her again of the pleasant adultery of the previous evening. And that was what it was, Gayle neither tried to sugar coat the episode or felt particularly guilty about her action. It wasn’t the first - or even the tenth - time she’d wound up in bed with a man not her husband. In the twenty some years of her marriage she’d been tempted many times, often had given in to the enticements, twice she’d actively pursued a lover. A girlfriend she’d confessed to once had asked again and again, 'why?' And Gayle had considered her rationales. It had nothing to do with the love she felt for her husband. She was firmly attached to him, and to their daughter. She’d defend him zealously should there come a crisis, either political or medical. When faced with a clear choice, she’d choose him every time. He was loving, in his own way, he was open and fair, had always been. When he’d proposed, she’d considered the choice for more than a month, and ...

... her agreement had been based on the idea that she craved a family. This man seemed a good choice for a father, she was sure he’d be loyal to a fault. And through the years he’d proven her choice correct. But sexually, he was at best competent. Oh there were times, even now, when they’d be caught in a rapture that would last an afternoon or even a fortnight, when they’d ravish each other nightly, when they’d lust together. But there were many more and much longer periods when he seemed detached from her needs, if they made love at all it was punctual, uninspired. Gayle knew from the beginning it would be this way, even as a maiden she’d observed the way of married couples, knew that passion was rarely a trademark of a successful union. And so, even as she wore her veil on her wedding day, she suspected monogamy might be a stranger in her marriage. Two years after the ceremony, when she found herself out of town, a dashing bachelor had bought her a drink at the bar and then insisted he take her to his room. She hadn’t resisted, or at least not more than a token, and she’d happily accepted him into her body. The next morning she’d been physically ill with guilt and over the succeeding weeks she’d tried to silently make it up to her husband, had even almost confessed her transgression. But the stigma had gradually weakened, leaving only the cloying memory of a night of crazed passion. And when, months later, she’d repeated the experience with another man, the feeling of betrayal ...