I wore skin-tight denim jeans with bright cherry-red ribbons snaking down each leg. A semi-shear red blouse with no bra. Long, dangling diamond earrings. And scarlet strappy stilettos punctuated with crystals. Hot, hot, HOT.
I’d always wanted to go to a strip club but my husband refused. So in 2006, during one of our many libidinous iterations, Boy Toy took me out late one night to a local upscale “gentlemen’s club.” I made some excuse to hubby about “going out late with the girls” and headed to one of my (male) friends’ houses: showered, made myself up, and dressed sexily, then met up with Boy Toy at a local bar. I jumped into his cranberry red Honda Ridgeline truck and off we went for a night of erotic fun.
He paid for us to have a “Premium” seat and experience, so we took our seats at the bar and I was enthralled with the beautiful women contorting on the poles. I paid for Boy Toy to have a lap dance in a private room…but only if I could watch! This wasn’t his first visit to a strip club and he warned me how “fake” it all was, but I must admit I got wet between my legs watching a well-endowed woman grind against my lover. When it was over and I’d slid a healthy tip into her G-string, Boy Toy and I kissed passionately, knowing that the night was not yet over.
After a couple more vodka and tonics he wanted to buy ME a lap dance, and I nearly beat him into the private room as “Asia” took my hand and then proceeded to have simulated girl-on-girl sex with me. I whipped off my red blouse and let her lick my nipples. When her head was close to mine I whispered discreetly in her ear, “My man over there is an ass man, so let’s put on a good show for him.” And we did! I flipped over and she “did me” doggy-style. I saw his eyes roll back in pleasure. It surprised me how turned on I was by this beautiful, exotic woman and the thought reverberated inside me for days afterward.
I was horny. I needed to fuck, and so did Boy Toy…..but WHERE? We left the club and got into his Ridgeline, his hard-on very apparent. He spied an auto body shop less than a block away and parked way in the back where we wouldn’t be discovered or look any different from any other auto parked there, and we both quickly shed our pants. I straddled him on the truck’s front seat, grabbed onto his shoulders and rode him hard and fast. We worked up a sweat and came nearly simultaneously. We smiled. GREAT SEX.
Then we drove back to the bar near our respective homes, said our good-nights, and parted ways.
But that red Ridgeline held more fun at a later date.
At the time I was working a responsible corporate job, and Boy Toy and I saw each other frequently for sex. I don’t recall whose idea it was, but one day that truck pulled up in front of my office building and he beckoned me in. He was a blue-collar guy, used the Ridgeline for work, but on this particular day there were no traces of electrical tools or supplies, no conduit, no light fixtures…just an clean, empty flatbed in the rear. He drove inside my building’s parking structure — I’d already asked security if it was under surveillance. It wasn’t. — and clicked off the engine.
I knew in advance to wear a dress, something easy to pull up and away from our moving parts while we fucked quick and hard during my lunch hour. The back of the Ridgeline was surprisingly roomy. I’d tucked a washcloth inside the purse I’d brought along and wiped our juices off my pussy before returning to work, with a wicked grin on my face that my co-workers would never understand.
Over the years, whether we were in a relationship or not, I’d occasionally see Boy Toy bopping around town in that red truck. Sometimes I’d wave hello; sometimes I flipped him off. Boy Toy sold his ’06 Ridgeline last year while living with his current gal pal, Kooky Girl. But whenever I see one on the road these days I smile lasciviously and remember the good times.
It was a fuckin’ good ol’ truck.
A former mistress (26 years, on-and-off) describes the good, the bad, and the ugly of her long-term affair. Conclusion: Affairs aren't necessarily destructive if kept in the correct perspective. Our experience enhanced BOTH our marriages.
That is, until his marriage ended and we began to love each other. When the affair morphed into a relationship, well, that's when it stopped being fun for me. We have now irrevocably split.
Lately I've been writing about the man who took his place in the "off" years of that 26-year-long affair. He was a dynamic sexual partner but we, too, now have irrevocably split.
These are our stories.