Chapter 4

After my recent affair, I finally knew I needed a breast reduction. My boobs were simply too big, they were heavy and hurt my shoulders when I wore a bra. Because of that I often went braless but that was in the seventies when going braless was the rage—In that regard I was fortunate. But my massive breasts were such an integral part of my identity that I couldn’t imagine them being smaller. Mom’s were huge, and it was obvious by the way her numerous boyfriends followed her around with their tongues hanging out that she loved showing them off, constantly exhibiting them shamelessly beneath her see-through lingerie. Growing up in an environment like that watching Mom’s boyfriends worship her visible tits, I was eager to emulate her. So, once I got over the trauma of being ridiculed at school when I was an early teen with the only breasts in the class, mother, like daughter, I proudly showed mine off, though not as blatantly as Mom did. Mine were so large at such a young age that it was not only pride that motivated me, but they also became an essential part of my identity. My tits were what males wanted and they were what my hubby wanted. In my mind, no man would want me if I had smaller breasts. Changing them in any way would threaten what I had known all my young life. But wrestling with the pain and discomfort of bra straps cutting into my shoulders and back pain caused by the weight of my heavy breasts the need to undergo a breast reduction. This became urgent and forced my decision. My hubby kept telling me that he didn’t care how big or how small they were, he loved me ... yadda, yadda, yadda, I didn’t believe him. Finally, the day came, They took as much of my boobs as they could, and when they sewed me back up, it was horrible, I looked like the bride of Frankenstein. My nipples were stitched all the way around, there were incisions from the bottom of my nipples to the bottom of my boobs on each side and stitches under them. I looked horrible, and the damn things were SMALL!

This surgery did one thing though, it kept me home and away from being the “bad girl,” that I had always been. I didn’t cheat on Wyatt—I wasn’t about to let anyone other than my hubby see the mess on my chest. In time they healed, and the scars became much less visible. I was thirty years old and took a seasonal job in a processing plant working the afternoon shift. Wyatt was on the day shift where he had been working for years, so we weren’t seeing each other much. I would wake him up when I got home at 1:00 or 2:00 am, usually peeling the blankets back and sucking his cock until he got hard. Then I would lie back and let him fuck me, after which we would both fall asleep. There were nights when I worked overtime, sometimes, four to six hours. Then, what hubby and I call “the second seven-year itch,” kicked in, something unexpected after fourteen years of marriage.

As before, my supervisor (Farley)was exceptionally good to me and gave me lots of compliments. It must have been something about me (my tits, even when reduced), but men always reacted to me that way. Farley and I would frequently go to an all-night diner near the plant for a cup of coffee on our break. Now and again, he would buy me breakfast after work there. He was fifty-four, my mother’s age. I had no sexual attraction to him and didn’t think he had feelings for me. Sometimes Farley would drive me home after work. One night after I had worked an overtime shift, we stopped at the diner for coffee. When driving me home afterward, he bypassed my street, kept straight on the main road, and pulled off at a conveniently isolated spot. Sliding next to me on the bench seat of the car he kissed me and fondled my boob. Shocked, I pulled back and told him to stop. He blushed, apologized, started the car, and dropped me off at home.

That perplexing moment in the car had been so awkward and uncomfortable that Farley distanced himself from me at work for the next few days. I began wondering if I had lost him as my friend, which caused Mom’s words to echo in my ear. “ ... if you don’t give it to them, they’ll get it elsewhere.” I respected Farley as a boss and valued him as a friend. He was someone I could talk with for hours and discuss things I couldn’t with anybody else, I missed that. I wondered, Will Farley ever talk with me again? Will I even get a chance to go for coffee with him?

A few days later, he sheepishly invited me for coffee again. Even before we got to the coffee shop, I knew it, I liked him too much to lose his friendship. Whatever he wants I’ll let him have. I’ll even let him fuck me. We finished coffee and stood outside the restaurant in front of our vehicles when I said, “I’m sorry I pushed you away like that the other night, Farley. Is there a quiet place we can go that you know about? We could talk more there Farley if you want to be with me a little longer.”

With a relieved but hesitant look, Farley said, “I know of a good place,” which made me think he had done this with someone else. I followed him in my car where we drove to the plant to the furthest place in the executive parking lot —none of the big execs used it at night. We parked our cars in the darkest corner. I was driving a van and we both got into the back. Needing to show him what I was willing to do I lurched at him and with my mouth wide open planted an open-mouthed kiss. His mouth opened to match mine and our tongues eagerly coiled around each other’s. As passion need working in our groins, his hands went straight to my boobs. In a tight, saliva-producing kiss where hot air gushed from our nostrils, I can’t even remember undressing, but we were naked within three minutes of getting into the van. I was on my back with my legs spread and the hard cock of the guy I thought was an old man, stretched and entered my pussy. “Oh GOD, Farley,” I cried out, “I never IMAGINED!” He fucked my cunt like it was the last one his cock would ever know, humping me for at least seven minutes before blowing his load inside me.

The affair lasted three-and-a-half months. Business came to a near halt at the plant a month-and-a-half after our first car fuck. I was laid off. During that time, I wanted Farley’s fat cock so much that I would go to bed with Wyatt, we would fuck until he dropped off to sleep as we often did anyway, and I’d get up and go to the coffee shop to meet Farley in the middle of the night. We would make love in the van in the executive parking lot. Sometimes Farley’s wife would spend nights with her ailing mother and If it happened on Farley’s night off, I would meet him at his house and we would fuck in their bed that emanated scents of him and his wife, with pictures of them staring back at me from the nightstand. Wyatt was such a sound sleeper that I knew he wouldn’t wake up and wonder where I was. He would never wake when I came back to bed after fucking Farley in the van or in his bed.

Eventually, the same question came up, this time with Farley.” Why can’t I make you cum?”

I must have been stupid. I could have just faked it with everybody I fucked. But I said the same thing to Farley, “I just can’t, Farley, but it’s not important. I love the way you make love to me and fuck me, so don’t worry about it.” But it was important to Farley.

One night I snuck out and went to his house. When I got into bed with him and began making out, I heard a noise and thought his wife was coming home. I started to freak out and Farley shushed, A naked, young man came out of the closet. It was SURREAL. Farley rolled off me, pulling his cock out of my pussy which sounded like a small plunger unplugging a drain. This guy who was built like a Greek god walked past the foot of the bed, laid down next to me, and said, “Hi Rachel, I’m Jimmy,” Then took Farley’s place between my legs.

To say “I was flabbergasted” would be the greatest misstatement in my thirty years. I was speechless, I loved Farley’s cock because it stretched my cunt. But as Jimmy began fucking me my eyes felt like they would pop out of my head. Farley laid his head on my tits and watched as Jimmy’s cock drilled me like a big bore projectile. I had never felt anything like this inside me. Remember Dan, one of my early boyfriends? His was big and even hurt my cunt. But this Jimmy’s felt like some kind of huge sausage. It must have been all the fucking I had done since Dan; Jimmy’s didn’t hurt, it was just fucking. When he finally ran out of breath while pumping me, he blew his load inside me, and it was the most surreal thing I had ever felt. Once again, he didn’t make me cum. It was a strange experience. I was pissed that Farley had pulled such a trick on me. As soon as Jimmy rolled off me, I slid off the bed and onto the floor, and on my knees gathered my clothes I bolted into the kitchen to get dressed.

Following me into the kitchen, Farley said. “I did it for you, Rachel,” Disappointed that his ploy didn’t work he saw how pissed I was and said, “I’m sorry but I was thinking of you.”

Beside myself, I thought, Boy, does that ever sound familiar, and said, “You should have asked me first, Farley You could at least have told me what you had in mind.” I don’t know why, but I allowed the affair to continue for a couple more weeks. Still jarred by what happened and how it happened, I finally cut it off.

Soon afterward while lying next to Wyatt in bed I blurted out, “I’ve been having an affair, Wyatt. You should just kick my ass out the door. I was stunned by his response and will never forget his words. “You’re not going anywhere, Rachel. I love you, and we will work this out. Then, as we always did, we had great sex, which to me was always hard for me to figure out. After that, we continually had long conversations about why I was always committing adultery.

It’s hard to explain my relationship with my husband. He allowed things that I don’t believe most men would have ever allowed. I remember one of his birthdays (I can’t remember which). He didn’t want to do anything special that night, just go to a small pub a short distance from town and have a few drinks, get a room close, and spend the latter part of the evening fucking our brains out. I had vowed to make his birthday special and came up with a plan where I would wear a revealing top, no bra, and a short skirt. The darkly lit bar was a comfortable place, where we found a secluded table in an almost invisible corner. After a couple of drinks, I became quite bold, and when the waiter asked if we needed another drink, I not only said that we did but I purposely allowed one of my boobs to pop out of my top. While the waiter’s eyes seemed to be bugging out, I pretended that I had a costume failure and with a nervous smile the waiter went to get our drinks. When he came back and set our drinks on the table his eyes never left my boob, which was back in place. I knew by the way he smiled and seemed to shake his head that he was wondering if he had indeed seen my bare tit, or if he thought he had just imagined it. Wyatt got a kick out of what I did, and how the waiter reacted, and said, “You’ve probably fucked with that poor guy’s mind.”

I had planned a special surprise for Wyatt’s birthday. Going to the ladies’ room I went into one of the stalls, pulled my panties down, and sat on the toilet. Reaching into my purse I pulled out my vibrating silver bullet, egg-sized vibrator and after taking a pee, I put it inside me, arranged the small cord, and pulled my panties back up.

When I returned to the table, I smiled and told Wyatt that I had a birthday present for him. As I handed him the vibrator control, which we had repeatedly used at home, he immediately recognized it. I loved using the egg inside me while masturbating and loved it inside Wyatt’s ass that I could feel vibrating while he fucked me. I loved it when he vibrated me in the bar, it felt good. It was adventurous getting vibrated in the bar where nobody had a clue. For me though a vibrating egg inside my cunt doesn’t do near as much as a vibe on my clitty. But it still felt good and we both enjoyed playing like that. When the waiter would come for drink orders hubby would activate the egg and I would jump or squirm. After seeing, or thinking he saw my tit pop out before I wondered what the waiter might be thinking. We had fun with it for a couple of hours. As it got close to closing time, we were both insanely horny, so leaving the pub we walked the short distance to our hotel where we had our greatest birthday sex.

One summer night at another bar my hubby and I had a few drinks where we sat near a wall looking out over the patrons in the room. My hubby wore loose shorts and a tee shirt. After a few drinks, my hand went under the table to his leg. Sliding it up his leg and inside his loose shorts I folded down the waistband of his underwear, grabbed his cock, and, as I looked out over the small crowd of people in the bar I, with my tongue in my cheek, slowly began stroking him. His cock grew harder and bigger, his penis muscles constricting, I knew he was close to cumming. I was really wanting to get him off. So, I gritted my teeth and wanked him as fast as I could. Wyatt’s body tensed and vibrated. My face was red with exertion when I felt the beginning of his ejaculate oiling my hand. Hubby’s body stiffened and froze blowing the most incredible load of jism into his shorts. My hand was a mess, but it was such a sexy, adventurous thing to do. Ever since the birthday when I let my tit flop out of my top, we visited different bars and got sexy in the same or different ways. But this was the first time I had ever jerked him off in a bar. I was wearing shorts that night also, but they were too tight for him to do much to me. He did give the camel toe in my crotch some good rubs and felt my tits when he thought it was safe.

Sometimes when my hubby was out of town for work and I would start feeling horny and go to a bar by myself. If something were to happen, I would be all for it. Sometimes I would drive about twenty miles out of town to a bar where no one knew me. And when I walked into the bar in my braless tank top and loose-fitting shorts I sat at the end of the bar and would order a beer. One night I sat at the bar for about twenty/thirty minutes when a nice-looking guy came and sat beside me. He hit on me and made small talk, which was exactly what I was looking for. After I let him buy me a couple of beers, I put my hand on his leg (we were concealed from the view of the rest of the bar) and moved my hand up his leg to where his shorts started. As I slid my hand under his shorts, he just smiled as he let me do as I pleased, knowing by the look I was giving him that I allowed him to return the favor. When I got my hand under his shorts, I found that his tight underwear inhibited my movement. With a streetwise smile, I said, “If you go to the boy’s room and take off those tightie-whities I’ll go out with you to your car and let you fuck the shit out of me.” Stunned that I was offering him a deal he couldn’t refuse he called the bartender, settled the tab, made a beeline to the restroom, and took me to his pickup truck in the parking lot. Getting into the back seat we kissed and fondled each other. I sucked his hard cock and he licked my pussy, fingered it, and gave me his cock where I wanted it. After blowing his load inside me, we snuggled for a bit and then I asked if he would take me back inside and buy a couple more drinks. He did, this time sitting at a table. We had a couple more beers and then went our separate ways. He is one guy my hubby never knew about. I never saw him again.

By the time I reached my fifties, I had slowed down but would still get that urge. My desire to be a naughty girl seemed to be an uncontrollable need to be with another man. During this time, my hubby had gotten a promotion, which meant more money. But Wyatt was traveling now and was away from home three to four nights a week. You’ve heard the old saying “When the cat’s away, the mouse will play.” I played--I just couldn’t help myself.

When he was gone, I would often drive the forty-plus miles into Seattle and get a room at the Sheraton Hotel where I would hang out in the lounge dressed in a way, I hoped would still attract men—low-cut tops, sometimes braless, short skirts, or tight jeans. I would just go and sit in the lounge, I wanted men to hit on me, buy me drinks, and then take me to their rooms, and spend the night with them. I always brought a change of clothes to wear in the morning. My only rule when I agreed to go to a man’s room with him was that I stay all night. I guess I still had it, men always hit on me. Most of these guys, traveling businessmen, were looking for a barfly like me to fuck.