I believe I wrote at some point that I have only had very few experiences of extramarital sex. The true story, 'The Milkman' is one of those. Another one is the one I am about to tell you about. I have chosen to call this story 'Not So Proud', because I am not so proud of what occurred. It happened a couple of years ago, and I only wrote it down because doing so was a therapeutic act. At the time I would rather have forgotten about the experience; today I am quite glad I did write it down. These days I don't feel so guilty about some of the things that have happened.

I met Greg, the guy in the story, when I was studying in Glasgow. He was a fellow student and we lived in the same dormitory. I had a strange relationship with him; we were very good friends, but the relationship was purely platonic. That was my choice, but I don't know why I made that choice. Perhaps because I found that the friendship was so valuable to me, that I didn't want to ruin it by letting it become a sexual relationship. Perhaps because I liked the attention and his constant frustration when he was around me. From that point of view, I probably wasn't very nice to him, but I was quite happy to have him helping me to the extent where he would do my shopping, let me have his car whenever I needed it and so on. I was dating other guys, and I knew he was jealous and couldn't understand why I would go out with other guys and not with him. But to me, those other dates didn't mean much and I didn't feel like getting too serious. Had I allowed the relationship to develop the way he wanted, I would probably never have left Scotland and I wasn't quite ready for that.

A few days ago I got an email from him. It was purely a professional matter, but the mail started a chain of thought and the occurrence I am writing about all of a sudden stood to the front of my mind, as clear as though it had happened yesterday. I was surprised to find that I didn't feel bad about it, and I decided to dig out the old story, translate it and publish it. (One more reason for not letting my husband know that I am writing these stories!).

Last week I received an unexpected phone call. "Hi, it's Greg," the voice on the phone said.

I was speechless. I wasn't in any doubt who it was. The Glaswegian accent alone would have given him away.

"Hi," was all I could answer, I just didn't know what else to say. I hadn't heard from him for several years. I knew he had married and had a couple of children about the age of mine, but I had only heard that through a mutual friend. I know he had been very hurt when I decided, according to plan, to leave Glasgow. I am sure he had thought that because of the very strong friendship we had, I would probably consider staying, and maybe change our relationship into something more that just friendship. I had felt very bad about leaving, but hadn't let him know how hard it really was for me too. I had thought about him many times, and wondered what it would have been like if I had stayed. But fortunately other things happening to my life had overshadowed these worries, and I hadn't thought much about him in the recent years. However, just four words were enough to bring it all back; I felt my heart stick in my throat.

"You don't seem very pleased to hear from me," he said with obvious disappointment in his voice.

"I am sorry," I said, "I am not pleased or displeased. I am so surprised that I haven't had time to think that far."

"Well, it is a long time ago. But I called to tell you I will be Denmark soon, and I thought it would be fun if we could meet."

'Fun' wasn't the first word that came to my mind. 'Frightening' would be closer to the truth.

"My wife has a distant uncle, whom we met recently. Talking about holiday plans he explained about a cottage he always rented in Denmark for a couple of weeks each summer. He had made the reservation, but couldn't go because his wife was ill. I happened to mention I knew somebody in Denmark, and before I could think it through we had taken over his reservations and then my wife suggested we contact you to see if we could meet." He was tripping over the words, apparently quite nervous.

I recovered my composure. Also it all seemed less threatening when it was the families meeting up. I had feared he was planning some clandestine meeting.

"I think that sounds like a great idea. It would be fun to meet, and we could use a couple of days away," I said with genuine feeling.

The conversation went on with practical details, like where and when. The cottage was on the island of Falster, about 125km south of Copenhagen, and fortunately at a time in about two weeks when I knew both Poul and I could get off work. (It would be a long weekend, but we quite often have to work weekends so we could easily swap with some colleagues). The school was still out, and it would be a pleasant change for the children who spent a lot of time with my parents, which they were beginning to find a bit tedious.

Both Poul and the children thought it would be great. Greg sent a picture of the cottage, which look fabulous. Even though it was right on a long wide sandy beach, it also had a pool warmed by solar heating (the need for which you would only understand if you know normal Danish summers), so it would always be nice and warm. Our children had been swimming since they were 5 months old and love the water.

We packed the Chrysler Voyager which we always use for trips, as the children can play games and entertain themselves better in that, even though I prefer the smother ride of the Mercedes. It was a fight I always lost because it was better for the children. The Mercedes is my car, but I never get to drive it anywhere but to and from work.

We left on a Thursday evening after work. It was a heat wave and even when we arrived after 22:00, it was still sticky hot (at least for Danish standards). I don't quite know what I had expected. My first reaction when Greg called was one of fear of rekindling old feelings. But since it became clear that this was a family get-together, I hadn't thought about it from that angle anymore. However, when I saw Greg my heart lodged itself firmly in my throat. He was so handsome! He was specialising in the effects of physical training, and it was obvious that he had used himself as guinea pig. He had long hair tied back in a ponytail. It was far from the old image I had of him, but it suited his bronze skin and beach boy appearance. He hugged me just a couple of seconds too long for just a friendly hug, and I knew he still fancied me. I could feel my legs go wobbly, my heart beat at a rate of 130, and I felt as guilty as a schoolgirl when I looked back to Poul talking politely to Greg's wife, Anne.

However, apart from the electric impulse sent to my heart every time my eyes met Greg's, and that was often as we couldn't stop looking at each other, the first hours of our reunion and family trip went very well. Being hot and sweaty from the drive, the children jumped straight into the pool. We had a few drinks (too many), as we discussed old days, the present status of our careers and family life, and whatever you talk about with someone you haven't seen for about eight years.

The next day we slept late. It was quite windy with large waves and we didn't think the children should go swimming in the sea, so we stayed by the pool, which was fabulous. I was very much aware of Greg looking at me all the time. I felt flattered, and quite a bit excited about the way I often caught him staring at my body when he thought I wasn't noticing. His wife, Anne, was a very pretty brunette. She had good curves in the right places, and wore a swimsuit witch was cut high at the sides and only a pair of wide crossed straps to hide her more that average size breasts. She looked quite provocative, so after a swim I took the opportunity to change into my tanga bikini, which didn't cover very much either, being very much aware of what that would do to Greg.

We had a light lunch, having decided to go out to one of the better restaurant for our evening meal. We dressed up, me in my light summer dress, keeping on my tanga g-string but leaving off the top. I was again much aware of the effect it would probably have on Greg, as it was quite loose and made of a rather thin material. However, I hadn't brought any other dress and because of the low cut the back I couldn't wear the bikini top underneath. I felt guilty in a strange way. Not that I hadn't worn the dress before, and not that I didn't enjoy people looking at me. It was just seemed kind of wrong, knowing how much Greg still appeared to be interested in me, and because I was here with Poul. Even though I really hadn't done anything wrong, I still felt guilty. Fortunately Anne only wore a tube dress, which clung to her, and actually made her appear more provocative than I did.

It was a very nice dinner and even the children behaved very nicely. Both of Greg's children were one year older than ours, but they all seemed to get along very well. As soon as the dinner was over they disappeared outside to play on the beach where the restaurant was located. We sat at the adjoining bar having a couple of cocktails and watched the children play. The wind had died down and it was another hot and humid evening. Anne and Poul had a long discussion about children, so Greg and I had a chance to talk privately about our one year long 'non-relationship', as he called it. I thought it was fair enough after so many years, to tell what I had felt at the time, and why I hadn't stayed. I could see he felt pleased that I had told him, and the atmosphere got a bit more relaxed and intimate, and more drinks were consumed as the sun started to disappear.

Back at the house we got the children into bed, grabbed a six-pack of beer and went for a walk by the water. We sat on a couple of overturned boats and were having a couple of beers when Poul suggested we should go for a swim. The sea was calm, the moon was just up, the beach was deserted, so why not. We hadn't got any swimsuits, but both Anne and I had bikini bottoms on, so it was only a question of being topless. That shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. As I dropped the dress and bent down to step out of it, my legs were shaking. I noticed Greg's stare. I was just so much aware of his attention to my hanging breasts, of which, from his position, he had a perfect side view. I tried to ignore him, but as he undid and dropped his trousers, I couldn't help notice the large bulge in his pants. I didn't mention anything, but I felt my nipples go hard, and all of a sudden, I was very much aware that it was the first time he had actually seen my naked breasts, despite a whole year of close friendship.

We all raced to the water. It was warm and very refreshing, and I managed to forget about Greg's attention to my breasts. But finally we got cold. Anne and Poul were first out of the water and dared each other to go for a run to get dry and warm. I couldn't be bothered so I just went ahead up to the boats, with Greg trailing right after me. When I got there I found there was another dilemma I hadn't considered. I wanted to take off my wet bikini bottoms. I could put on the dress, and take them off under the cover of the dress. On the other hand I was still dripping wet and didn't want to get the dress all wet with salty water. All of a sudden my exhibitionistic tendencies hit me, and I just felt so excited from the thought of undressing in front of Greg and to see what he would say. I knew he was standing close behind me, but I just pretended to ignore him. I slipped my fingers under the thin material and pulled down the bikini bottoms. In bending down I purposely turned my back to Greg so he could see my upturned rear-end. I shivered as I stood up again. My nipples were rock hard and surrounded with goose pimples, caused by the cold night air. As I turned round to face Greg, I got a shock when I realised he had also dropped his shorts and was now sporting the most erect penis I had seen for a long time. Not that it was unusually large, but it was so hard that I could even see it throbbing with each heartbeat. The moonlight was quite bright and in the glare I could see a small drop of lubricant forming at the tip. The head was shiny and surprisingly large, at the end of an otherwise long but thin shaft. I think my jaw must have dropped as I stood and stared in awe.

"I am sorry," he said as he watched me stare at him. "I really can't help it. There was no way I could hide the effect you have on me, so I though I might as well give up."

I kept staring at it, not knowing what to say. "I don't... " I started, then I stopped and tried again. "There isn't anything to apologise for. It is actually very flattering. It should be me being sorry for getting you so frustrated. I shouldn't have undressed like that in front of you."

"But, I am very pleased that you did. You know in all the time we were together, I haven't once seen your breasts, or any other part of you naked. And now all of a sudden, when we aren't together anymore, I see it all. It just makes me even more sorry for what I missed at the time."

I looked at his dick again. He watched me looking, but neither of us did anything. I felt very tempted to reach out and touch it; to see if really was as hard as it seemed. But that would be asking for trouble. I looked over my shoulder and saw that Poul and Anne had stopped running and were walking back. It would only be a few minutes before they were close enough to see us standing together naked gawking at each other. I bent down for my dress, but this time I purposely put it on over my head to offer him a good view of my breasts as I put my hands in the air to slip it over my head. I hesitated a little before I pulled it down shutting off his view. I almost felt disappointed. In a way I had loved the feeling of his eyes on my body. Had we been alone I am not sure what would have happened.

I turned around and looked for Anne and Poul. They were at the edge of the water, deep in some conversation. I couldn't help it; I took at step backwards and still facing the water, I grabbed the dick behind me. I ran the palm of my hand over the tip, lubricating it and slowly sliding my hand down its length. It was as hard as a piece of bone. I heard Greg gasp, but as I ran my hand back along the length of the shaft I let go, and as I ran towards the water I called softly over my shoulder, "Now don't injure yourself getting that rod back into your trousers."

I reached Poul and threw myself at him. Suddenly I was feeling cold. He hugged me and gave me a little kiss. The guilt hit me. I didn't know why I had done what I did to Greg. I had intended to keep my distance, but I just couldn't help it. The old fire was rekindled. I was now being punished for the year of pain I had administered to Greg. I hugged Poul again, and decided to forget about Greg.

Poul and I made hot and passionate love that night. I am sure Anne's breasts must have had an effect on him as well. As I fell asleep, I remember my last thoughts were not to let Greg get in the way of my perfect relationship with Poul.