A Truly Horny Man Loving Wives

People wonder generally why cheaters cheat, how cheating is distinct from regular , and what cheaters really get out of it. Firstly, knowing other cheaters, I know that everyone does it for different reasons, and everyone gets something different out of it. A large number of the men who cheat on their wives with me really need a therapist and not a lover. I think its true that in general the act of , no matter how many variations we add to it, is essentially the same, but the emotional and lets say spiritual quality of is quite different from person to person. with my husband is of the highest spiritual quality, and really gives a transcendent aspect to our lives that is impossible to recreate. It has a category all its own, which I enjoy as often as I can (which is to say, whenever he is around). I consider with my husband to be something categorically different than the I have with other people. However, I will never feel unsafe around my husband. The sort of primal danger and intensity of with an unknown person that makes it incredibly exciting in a very specific way is something I can only get while cheating. This is not the only type of feeling I get while cheating, and as I mentioned in another recollection of mine, is a very unique way to know someone’s true nature.

This however is about that type of encounter, that feeling of primal danger, the horny anxiety. The feeling of being confronted by a truly horny man.

Truly horny men, I find, are a rarity in life. Most men who spend their time thinking about , masturbating, fantasizing, and chasing women aren’t what I would call truly horny. The easiest way to find out is to give them what they are asking for, and see how all the braggadocio disappears once you’re both in private and its time to deliver. I cannot say how many of my hookups end in premature ejaculation, nervous rambling about feeling guilty, and flustered explanations about how “this never happens” to them. Over the years I’ve gotten much better at knowing who is talking a big game and who can really handle themselves. Call it cheating expertise.

This comes from early in my cheating career, when I wasn’t so savvy as to figuring out who is who. I encountered a truly horny man, without knowing what I was getting into. It was years back, and I had decided to go visit a friend in the Caribbean, who had moved there with her husband some time ago. My husband was working as always, and my mother in law had taken the kids up to her house, meaning I had a week by myself. As I was packing, I thought about what to bring with me, and a couple of scandalous bikinis ended up in the suitcase. I had been cheating for about six months at this point, and I knew how to attract attention if I wanted it.

I landed in the early afternoon of a breezy and warm Caribbean day, and found a cab to the hotel, it was an all inclusive resort, which I chose since it was the safest and closest place to my friends house. Normally, I would stay over with her, but her in laws were visiting and her place was getting crowded. I got to the resort and made it to my room. It would be a few hours before my friend arrived so I decided to unpack and tour the grounds. Like any all inclusive resort, it had made it as easy as possible to get a drink no matter the hour, but I just wanted to get a view of the sea first. As I got closer, I noticed there was a hot tub obscured by some bushes and my mind wandered to the idea of who I might meet there in the evening, but then a group of kids came running by and I banished the thought. I saw the swim up bar had the best view of the beach before the beach itself, and I made a note to enjoy a mimosa there at some point. I kept on my tour and found the gym, which was on the second floor of the main building and had a deck for yoga. Perfect. I decided to go back to my room, get dressed for yoga, do a quick session, and shower before my friend arrives.

I went back to the room and felt the cool airconditioning wash away the sticky Caribbean heat, and I felt my nipples stiffen. I went over to the mirror and began removing my travel outfit. As I took off my tank top and jeans, I noticed my 32 year old body in the mirror, and I admit to being proud of my efforts. My brunette hair and blue eyes, my flat tummy, my perky tight ass, my wide hips and tiny waist all gave me the confidence I needed to wear one of those skimpy bikinis later. But once I removed my bra (an indescribable relief after the plane and heat) and my 34DD breasts came into view with their hard nipples, I knew I needed to rock this body I worked so hard for on the beach. They looked especially big on my 5’2″ petite frame. I examined my sideboob, and back boob to make sure they still looked perky from each angle, and having become fully arrogant, I put on my yoga outfit. My yoga pants struggled to get over the top of my asscheeks, and I did the little pants dance that I always do when dressing in something tight. I pulled a sports bra over my tits and looked at myself one more time before heading out.

The gym was more or less abandoned when I walked in, which made sense since the resort was primarily old people and young families. There was one old guy using a weight machine in the corner directly under the AC. I felt him watching me as I crossed the room to the balcony, where I found a space to start doing my yoga. I warmed up as I always do, touching my toes, side bending, doing my wrist extensions, planking out, etc. It was when I hit my first downward dog pose that I felt something. A sort of tension had entered my mind, greater than suspicion, but less than fear. I looked over my shoulder and saw that the old guy was standing right behind me, staring at my ass in the air.

Now this isn’t a new phenomenon, and any woman that does yoga will tell you it comes with the territory, but this old man’s gaze wasn’t the usual playful boyish naughtiness that I usually encounter. There was something serious about it, something intentional and natural to it, like he had been doing it all his life, and was somehow optimized for it. I stood up and waited for him to say something corny to cut the tension like “what a great view they have here” or something but he didn’t. He didn’t look away for even a second. I decided that it was too early in the day to deal with this and I left. I had done most of my session anyway.

In the shower in my room I thought about what had happened. He didn’t present as a threatening person when I first saw him sitting on the weight machine, in fact, I sort of looked right past him. He was tall, (but I think most people are tall), had a typical older man body (thin but wiry arms, bit of a pot beer belly, normal legs), and somewhat curly gray hair above a pinkish red face with a small pointed nose. In his gray tshirt, gym shorts, and white tennis shoes (of course) he looked as typical as you could imagine. The look he gave me though, dismantled my dismissal of him instantly, and now he was solidly on my mind. He looked at me like a lion looks at a gazelle from the bush, pitiless and hungry. I shuddered a little as I finished drying my hair, and thought about how much more aware I needed to be in life in general. My friend texted me that she was in the lobby, and I grabbed my key card to leave. While putting it in my pocket, I realized, that unbeknownst to me until that very moment, my panties were wet.

The evening at my friends place was as good as I was hoping. I met her in laws who were all very polite people. Her husband grilled up some fish with lemon. The wine flowed and my friend and I laughed about silly things from the past. A good evening without a doubt, but a shadow remained in the back of my head that never quite left me alone. Some sort of foreboding was building up in my mind, and it took a lot of laughing and wine to dull it to a low rumble, like knowing that a big storm is coming and you can’t do anything but wait for it. My friend finally said something on the drive back to the hotel:

“You doing ok? You seem a little tense.”

“Yeah its just the plane I think, and the humidity. I’m fine”

I made it back to my room and again the airconditioning stiffened my nipples. I gave a glance over at my suitcase and thought about going to the hot tub, but some ominous feeling made me rethink it. As I got undressed and into my pajamas, I saw my body in the mirror again and thought, “what happened to all your confidence? you’ve been a hot girl all your life, get over this.” I regained some of my calm after reasoning through it, but I still crawled under my covers and went to sleep without a hot tub visit.

The next morning my friend came over to the hotel early. Her kids were with her husband and we were planning on spending the whole day together enjoying the resort. The knock came at the door and snapped me out of a half slumber. I shuffled over to let her in without a sound. She came through the door with far too much energy for the hour and remarked immediately, “whew you keep it cold in here!” which was true. I had the AC going at its highest setting, so I could enjoy a reprieve from the outside whenever I came back.

My friend brought a bag with the various outfits we would need to enjoy the day, but was wearing a pink two piece bikini with jean shorts and a white mesh cover up. Typical mom stuff. I was wondering if I should match her style when she suggested that we start with some yoga, which she explained she hadn’t really done since moving to the Caribbean. I said yes before I could stop myself and she was pleased. She quickly stripped out of her clothes, revealing her naked body as she fumbled for her yoga outfit in her bag. She was taller than me (but most people are), and had her blonde hair in a messy ponytail, big mom sunglasses perched on the top of her head. Her tits where ample but not large, ending in flat stumpy nipples. Her hips had very pronounced dips in the side, which I always found attractive in women, and her ass was big and round, with fine little hairs standing on goosebumps in the cold air. She had a bit of a tummy, and thick thighs that I immediately imagined crushing her skinny husband’s head. She broke my trance with a question:

“Do you think I can pull this off?” she asked, holding up a blue two piece bikini with white lace edging.

“Yes of course you can,” I replied with honesty.

I got naked and started in on choosing a yoga outfit. I selected something a little less tight today, and finished it with a baggy tshirt, to which my friend commented, “aren’t you going to be too hot on the balcony?” Realizing that I was acting strange, I replied:

“yeah you’re right,” and took the tshirt off. I was left with a grey sports bra and matching yoga pants. Even though they were not riding deep up my ass crack, the yoga pants still made it evident that I had a perky little ass. My friend’s yoga outfit was similar and we headed up to the gym, her chattering and me not.

Each step that brought us closer increased my anxiety a little bit more, and when we entered the gym to find only two other moms running on the treadmills, I breathed easy. The session was mostly a refresher course for my friend, and we finished in good spirits.

Next on the list was to hit the beach, which I was very ready for. My friend took the lead with her pink bikini from before, and I wore a turquoise bikini, that was a half size too small, so a little extra boob was peaking out from behind the triangles of my top. The bottoms were cheeky without being a thong, riding up my asscrack just a bit. We found a spot in the first row of beach chairs and laid out in the sun. I turned over onto my stomach, and it wasn’t long before I was having a little nap.

It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes later when I woke up to find that my friend wasn’t there. Her book and hat were still on her chair so I figured she ran to the restroom. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked towards the resort, and I spotted her talking to a staff member who was writing what she said down.

“Oh good, a mimosa would be great right now,” I thought as I turned over to my back.

Once I’d turned over, I noticed the old man from before, further down the beach, standing next to some people, and looking over at me. I felt that twinge of fear again, and I guessed he must have been looking at my ass while I was asleep. I start to get a little anxious as he noticed me noticing him. The old woman sitting next to him motioned to him, and he sat down next to her turning his back to me. Not a minute later some kids arrived and sat with them. I instantly felt relief at this sight. This wasn’t some scary guy, it was a grandfather on vacation with his wife and grandkids. What was I so worried about before? I felt absolutely silly for having let such a casual, harmless thing rule my mind for as long as it did. The anxiety melted away right as my friend arrived with drinks in hand.

“You look much better. That nap did great for you,” she smiled and passed me the cold plastic champagne flute.

“It sure did,” I smiled back.

We gossiped and worked on our tan until it was time to cool off in the swim up bar. Normally I don’t like swim up bars, but I was far too hot from the sun and needed cool water and most likely another drink. We were the only ones at the bar when we approached, and the bartender woke up from resting on his elbows before pouring a mimosa for me and a pina colada for my friend. I wasn’t half way done with my drink when the old man slid up one chair away from me and ordered a beer. Now getting a better look at him, he seemed so much more harmless than I thought before, and I decided to be flirty with him to further reduce him in my mind. Thankfully I didn’t need to start, as he didn’t wait long after getting his beer to turn towards me and begin:

“Had enough of the sun did you?” he said in a tone that made me understand that this was his flirting voice.

“I think so,” I replied, a little cutesier than normal. My friend picked up on my tone and joined in the fun:

“Shes hot enough as it is, she doesn’t need anymore sun,” she half laughed as she spoke, enjoying the kitsch of the whole situation.

“You don’t need to tell me, I can see that plain as day!” he clipped back playfully, enjoying the seriously not serious energy of this flirtation.

This little back and forth keep encouraging me to think of this man more as what he really was, a man in his late fifties from the Midwest looking for the thrill of being received positively by women twenty years younger. He said his name, and for the sake of this I’ll call him Dan, and when he said that he would be around later if we wanted to keep talking we giggled our way out of that conversation, which had reached the height of its silliness.

Back in the room we showered and got dressed for lunch. My friend kept teasing me about Dan, and how enthusiastic he looked talking with us. “They become teenagers again in the face of a nice set of boobs,” she laughed, hefting my tits in the shower to emphasize her point.

“Yeah, its hard to imagine that they are in charge of things wherever they are from,” I chortled along.

A short time later, we were seated in flowy summer dresses at the seaside restaurant in the resort, having more drinks and salads. I saw Dan walking with his family from where I was sitting, and he gave me an enthusiastic wave which went over his wife’s head. I smirked at the boyishness of it all, and felt red in the face with embarrassment at the fear I originally felt because of him. This lobster tanned pot bellied old man clomping around in his airport sandals, wearing a foolish grin. My friend and I laughed and went back to our conversation.

“I think he has a crush on you,” she quipped while smiling knowingly.

“You think everyone has a crush on me,” I said back, meeting her smile with my brand of playfully defensive sarcasm.

“Because they do,” she laughed, “and you don’t exactly make it hard for them to develop a crush,” she finished.

“What do you mean?” I replied.

“C’mon, look at how hot you look, and how y you dress. You know guys will notice,” she said. This was the first time I felt something accusatory in her voice, small though it was.

“You know how it is in Miami, what the expectation is, what we have to do to meet that expectation,” I returned cautiously, “besides, Dan is just playing a game. This is just something to talk to his golf buddies about, hes harmless,” I finished strong.

“Yeah you’re right, and why not tease him? You’re on vacation and its his problem,” she smiled, and raised a glass at me. I clinked my glass against hers and we both went back to more casual themes.

The rest of the week continued in much the same way. We would spend the day together, at the gym, the beach, the pool, the spa, gossiping and chatting, having drinks and naps, showers and outfit changes. Dan would come and flirt, we would flirt and laugh. Each day however, I would wear something a little more scandalous, something a little more revealing, and each day Dan would be a little more enthusiastic. It wasn’t until Thursday right before the pool that my friend had to say something:

“Honey, that is barely anything! Are you sure you want to go out like that?” she said in a mildly sanctimonious tone. She had a point, I was wearing my all black mini bikini which was just enough to cover my nipples and areolas, and the bottom was a vstring with enough material to cover my pussy lips, but you can make them out through what little coverage was there.

“It’ll be fine, the next batch of families won’t be here until the weekend starts anyway,” I said without meeting her gaze.

“Yeah you’re right, and I know your boyfriend will enjoy it,” she said giggling. I was taken aback by this. We’d been so good about not saying it out loud, why did she have to go and spoil the fun?

“Dan is not my boyfriend,” I said in a bratty way, annoyed at her ruining the game.

“Did I say Dan was your boyfriend?” she replied wickedly, savoring the fact that I had outed myself. “Is he who you’ve been dressing up for all week?”

I couldn’t say anything back because it was true. I had been teasing him all week, giving him peeks down my tops, bending over in front of him while he was seated next to his wife, flashing mischievously sultry looks only to follow them with a silly grin that chided him for taking the first look seriously. In my mind this was all innocent fun teasing a goofy old man, but clearly it was starting to look like I was enjoying it more than I should be.

After dinner my friend and I hugged. She promised to take me to lunch and to the airport the next day. Once she left, it was just me and my heavy airconditioning at about 8:00pm. I had just about given Dan a heart attack today with the skimpy suit I wore to the pool. He was falling over his words, and I was enjoying watching him fumble. Something about this recollection was sending a thought to my mind, “go to the hot tub.” I slipped on another skimpy bikini of mine, this one green that held my breasts together using a ring between the cups, and a thong bottom. I put on a mesh cover and left for the hot tub.

My heart started pounding a little, now that I was out without my friend or daylight to shield me from what I was doing. I felt relieved when I found the hot tub and saw that it was unoccupied, but I also felt a little disappointed. After making sure I wasn’t seen, I awkwardly retreated back to my room, again frustrated with myself for the feelings I was having from this harmless old man.

I walked back up the stairs and started for my room when I noticed that Dan was standing outside my room, leaning against the door. My awkward calm immediately revved back to full panic as I saw the look he gave me, that same serious look that started this whole charade. I wanted to ask him what he was doing here, or how he knew where my room was, but before I could say anything, he gave me another look that said “no more games,” and took the keycard out of my hand. He opened the room door and guided me through, a shiver going up my spine as he pushed me inside by the small of my back.

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