“What!” they screeched in unison, as they both stared disbelievingly in my direction.

“You’re actually going to do it?” Karen ventured, her eyes wide in skepticism and alarm.

“That was the idea wasn’t it?” Their stunned expressions made me laugh out loud.  I hadn’t actually done anything yet, and if I’m honest I wasn’t totally convinced I ever would. “Well, wasn't it?”

“Well yes,” Karen murmured, “but...”

“Come on then, spill the beans.  Who is he?” I welcomed Jane’s interruption and her approving smirk.

“His name’s Michael, and he just.” I paused as I realised that my knowledge of him was sketchy at best.  In fact, I didn’t really know anything about him at all.  But there was something, and it was difficult to explain.  The few text messages that we’d shared had given me a new life, a purpose.  I wasn’t just a mother and widow; there could still be a life out there for me.  I know we hadn’t met, but he made me want to.

“He Intrigues me.” There was a brief pause as they both processed what I’d said, followed by a barrage of questions.  When was I meeting him?  where was I meeting him?  Where did he live?  What did he do?  All of these questions, I had no answer for.  And then Karen asked it.

“How old is he?” I’d been waiting for it, and in fact, it would have been my first question.

“Twenty-five.” I grimaced, leaving them in stunned silence.

“Twenty-five!” Jane chirped, barely able to contain herself, “you lucky cow.” Karen and I stared at her before we all broke into hysterics.  I was aware of every head in the cafe turning in our direction.

“Do you have a picture?” Karen asked.  Her body language clearly showing that although she was uneasy with this, she would try and be supportive.  I only had the picture from the website and was unsure whether to share the information it contained, but after a great deal of pleading, I conceded and pushed my mobile across the table.  They both studied his profile as I sat back watching them digest it all, waiting for their verdict.

“What does, above average mean?” Karen queried, as they both looked up from my phone towards me.  I’m afraid I couldn’t enlighten them, I had no idea either.  It was the answer to “Body Type.”

“A lot of them say average or whatever.  I haven’t a clue.”

“Perhaps it means he has a big willy?” Jane cried, alerting the girls on the next table.

“Sssh, Jane, you’re going to get us kicked out,” Karen said, nudging her.  But I didn’t care, it was out.  And I have to say I was relieved that it went well, it felt good.  I kind of needed their approval, especially Karen’s.  Not only had she been my best friend since primary school, but she was also my sister-in-law and we’d been through a lot together.

I needed her blessing.  I wasn’t going behind anyone’s back or being unfaithful or deceitful; I saw it as a new stage in my life, a stage I still wasn’t sure I’d ever have the courage to get up on.  There was something that Jane had said, something that stayed with me, making me feel curiously good and apprehensive at the same time.

“So, our Claire’s a milf.  Who knew?” she said, making me feel like I’d joined her gang.  A small but infamous group of women that I’d strangely always looked up to, like the older girls at school, whose tales of ‘losing it’ I’d eagerly listened in on.

These women were well known for their extramarital activities.  It was the open way they talked about sex at the school gates, and the way they dressed, all tight tops and dresses with push up bras.  In comparison, I felt tired and dowdy in my sweatshirts and jeans.  I remembered a few years ago Jane’s husband Paul had paid for her boob job as a birthday present, and her arriving home with what she now called her new ‘puppies.’

It always perplexed me as to his motives.  Did he get some kind of kick out of knowing that her new look now attracted all the local males like a sheepdog to a whistle?  And she revelled in it, loving the attention as she drew glances and wolf whistles in the street.

Jane lived opposite me, so it was difficult to avoid noticing the brown UPS van parked outside her house on Tuesday and Friday lunchtimes.  Her scandalously closed bedroom curtains almost advertising the fact.  Deep down, I envied her brazenness.  Unlike me, she really didn’t care what anybody thought of her.  In fact, she appeared to welcome the whispers behind her back as the rumours spread.

Secretly I wanted to be like her.  I wanted to be the one that the men desired, that turned the heads when I walked down the street, my low-cut top revealing what was on offer.  But the confidence just wasn’t there.  I knew that I would never be able to pull it off.  I saw Jane and her friends and the way they conducted themselves, taking every comment and innuendo in their stride.  I don’t know what I’d do if a guy chatted me up.  Die of embarrassment, I think.

Disappointingly, after the grand announcement, the messages between Michael and me virtually ceased.  He was currently on the other side of the world, in Australia.  He appeared to travel a lot.  On the odd occasions when he did message me, he would casually drop in a name of a woman that he was with, giving me the impression that he had an assortment of females dotted around everywhere.

This only served to increase my frustration as I had to admit to feeling a degree of jealousy and envy; his life seemed so free.  With no commitments or ties, he was free to go and do whatever he wanted.  In contrast, my life was locked in, a prisoner to my children and marital status.  I yearned for another text from him, anything to take me away from the day to day drudgery.  Beside me, my phone started to vibrate.  The screen said no caller ID.  I would normally ignore these calls but bizarrely something forced me to pick up.

“Hello.”

“Hi, is that Claire?” It was a woman’s voice.  I sighed as I waited to discover what she was selling.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Hi, this is Sofi, a friend of Michael’s.” When it dawned on me who she was talking about, I was stunned.  He had said that he’d get someone to call, but I didn’t think it would ever happen.  She had an accent that I couldn’t place; Italian maybe? “Hello?  Are you still there?”

“Yes.  Yes, I am.” I stuttered.

“Michael asked me to phone you?  The agency?” She had that annoying inflexion where everything was a question.

“Yes.  Yes, he mentioned it,” I said, still in a state of shock, “where are you calling from?”

“Australia.”

“You don’t sound Australian.  You sound...”

“I’m from Cyprus.  We came over about ten years ago.”

“We?”

“Yes, my husband and I.”

“Okay.”

“Do you have any questions?  About Michael that is.”

“Yeah, umm, okay, how did you meet him?” It seemed the obvious place to start.

“Last year, on the dating agency like you.  I’d dated a few guys on there before I met Michael.” I was dying to ask what happened to her husband but couldn’t muster the courage to ask.

“Are you, is it, how old are you?” I really didn’t know what to ask, I wished that I had had some warning, so I could have prepared something.

“I’m fifty next month.  And you?”

“Umm, forty-three.”

“Okay.”

“Are there many?”

“Women?  I think so.  He doesn’t say.”

“How often do you meet up?”

“Whenever he’s in town, maybe fifteen, twenty times a year.  He’s in Townsville at the moment, surfing on the Gold Coast and I’m in Brisbane.  Listen, he’s a really nice guy, you have nothing to worry about, you’ll love him.  He wears me out.” I think I got what she meant but was desperate to know more.

“It’s legitimate then.  He is who he says he is.” That didn’t come out right, but I hoped she understood.

“Yes yes,” I could hear her laughing, “It depends on what you want.  If you are looking for someone to settle down with, then that’s not Michael.  But if you want to meet up and have some fun then...”

“Fun?” I interrupted.

“Yeah fun, you know,” she laughed, “he’s a very talented boy.  Spoilt but blessed.  And he knows it.” I couldn’t contain myself any longer.

I had to ask, “Are you still with your husband?” There was a pause.  For a moment I wondered if the phone line had died.

“I wondered when you’d ask.  We have an arrangement.  Things had got stale, and at the time it was either this or separate.”

“So, he knows about him?”

“Yes.  But as long as I keep him in the loop, and not go behind his back.  He’s okay.”

“And that works for you?” I was astonished by her openness.  I couldn’t imagine Jason and myself coming to a similar arrangement.

“Oh yes,” she said, I could tell she was warming to the subject, so much that she was almost purring, “when I get home, I tell him everything.  How many times he fucked me and how big he is.  Never fails to work.  If you know what I mean.”

To my amazement, the subject enthralled me.  Surely most men would react aggressively, to learn of their wives seeing someone else.  “Have they ever met?”

“No, they haven’t.  He wanted to come and watch, but I didn’t think it was a good idea.  After all, it’s one thing for your husband to know that you are going elsewhere for the satisfaction that he can’t give you, but it’s quite another for him to watch.  I think that would be cruel, don’t you?”

I hadn’t expected a question.  I hadn’t ever thought about it.  I think I would have been destroyed if Jason had had an affair, and him the same with me.  But this was different.  Mutual.  “But you tell him all about it when you get home.  It’s the same isn’t it?”

“No.  No, it’s not.  We have a routine, a kind of ritual.  When I get home, I make him lay on the bed, I take his cock and masturbate him while giving him all the details.  I answer any questions he asks.  He loves to be humiliated by me, as I tell him how much bigger Michael’s cock is compared to his.  How much more stamina his young body has.  How many times he made me cum.  Telling him all this, in the safety of our home, we can cope with.  His witnessing it first hand would be too much I think,” she paused briefly, “I love my husband, Claire.  Michael could never replace him.  But in bed, I need more.  And Michael certainly gives me that.”

“What does Michael think?”

“He loves it, of course, he does.  What man wouldn’t?  As I said he’s blessed and very very spoilt.  His family are loaded, and he spends most of his time travelling.  He loves the surf down here.  I’m under no illusion why he travels here.  And it’s not just to see me.”

“Blessed?”

Claire, believe me, he is.  It’s...” The line started to break up, I could hear that she was saying something but couldn’t quite understand what it was.

“Sofi, I can’t hear you.  You’re breaking up.” Then the line went dead.  I had no way of contacting her and sat, hoping that she would try and reconnect us.  After a few seconds, it became apparent that it wasn’t going to happen.  I sat in silence in the front room, the phone still in my hands.  This seemed a strange world, one very much removed from the one I’d been living in.

Mine is very traditional.  I married my first real boyfriend, the man who took my virginity, bought the house, had the children, all the boxes ticked.  But out there was a world that I thought only existed in the Sunday papers.  Something deep inside me was saying that I was missing out.  Maybe it was because I was lonely, or maybe because I was getting older and scared of missing out.  But there had to be more to life than this.

With the children collected from school, fed and now finally in bed.  I noticed a message on my mobile.  Seeing who it was from, I could feel the heat on my face as I unexplainably became as giddy with anticipation.

Hi Claire
I’ve two more weeks here and then I’m returning to Blighty
Are you still interested in meeting up?
Sofi tells me she called you
I gave her your number I hope you don’t mind
Did you ever contact the agency?
I hope you still want to meet up
Would love to meet you in person
Michael

I was a bit taken aback.  It had been weeks since he last contacted me.  Something in the back of my mind was telling me that he was working out his options for when he returned.  And that I was just one of a number of women that he’d contacted to keep himself amused on his return.  Part of some kind of hareem.  But that’s what I wanted, wasn’t it?  A no strings attached arrangement.  No emotional ties.

Hello Michael
It’s been a long time, I hope you’re well?
Yes, Sofi called me
I did get an email from the agency saying that you’re clean and that they haven’t received any complaints
So, I guess you’re not an axe murderer after all
I would love to meet up
Contact me when you’re home
Claire

You know those occasions when you send a text or Email, and immediately regret what you’ve written, but you can’t take it back. Well, this was one of those moments.  “I would love to meet up.” I inwardly cringed.  Not that it wasn’t true, but it sounded a bit mumsy.  I could imagine him smiling, as he added my name to his list of desperately lonely housewives, begging for his attention when he was in town.

PING

Fantastic
I’ll contact you when I’m free and we can hook up
Do you have a message for Sofi?
Michael xx

Message?  Why would I want to send her a message?  Unless.

Is she with you?

A shiver ran through me as I pictured them both, huddled together, laughing as they texted this desperate woman.

Yes, she’s here.
But she’s busy.
She’s got her mouth full at the moment.

I realised the connotation immediately.  But tried to understand the situation, the whole twisted scenario.  The husband, the wife and her lover.  But why would he contact me, while he was with Sofi?  I felt so out of my comfort zone, most definitely the newbie.

Ping

Let’s play a little game

I sat, staring at the screen of my phone.  What game did he have in mind?  Whatever it was, it sounded sinister.  But it excited me.

What?

Ping

Tell me where you want me to cum.

I’m not a prude, but I was astounded.  I could feel the elevated pulse in my ears, as I tried to second guess what he wanted me to say.  I had never met Sofi.  I had talked to her for only a few minutes on the phone.  I knew nothing about her, or even what she looked like.  She was a woman, not much older than me.  I imagined her naked and on her knees before him.  Eager to please her young lover.  Like me, she was terrified by the thought of rejection.  Her red lipstick coated her mouth, leaving its trace on his cock as she yielded to his every order.

My mobiles ringtone abruptly interrupted my thoughts.

My god, it was him.  It was Michael.

“Hello.” There was a rustle on the line.  And then his voice.

“Hi Claire,” his voice was clear and well spoken.  Almost old-fashioned, “she’s waiting,” with the phone pressed close to my ear, I walked almost on tiptoes, to the stairs in the hallway to check if the children were asleep.  To my relief, I was greeted by silence, and closed the door behind me, as I returned to the front room. “Are you still there?” he asked, his voice becoming strained as he breathed heavily into his mouthpiece.

“Yes,” I meekly replied.

“I’ve put you on speaker Claire.  What do you want me to do?” I could feel a thin bead of sweat forming on my upper lip.  The palms of my hands felt clammy.  “I can’t wait much longer.” I could sense his urgency.

“What does Sofi want?” I asked, searching desperately for guidance, hoping for an instruction to a game that I’d never played before.

“That’s not how we play Claire.  She has to abide by your command.” What the hell was this?  What had I unwittingly entered into?

“Where do you want to put it, baby?” It was the moan of a female voice.  Sofi.  “Give me your cum Michael.  I want you to cover me with it.” She sounded strange, drunk almost.  There was something that Jason always wanted me to do, and I always refused.  To me, it felt demeaning or degrading.  I felt that to let a man do it would be the ultimate act of submission.

“I want to feel it over me,” she cooed, “I want to taste you.”

“Cum on her face,” I blurted.  Hoping for acceptance.

“Yes,” Sofi acknowledged, “do it.” I imagined her contented face as the first shot of his young sperm hit her between the eyes, followed by more as his cock continued to spurt its juice, covering her face.

His loud groan on the other end of the line distorted the signal.  In my mind I could see his spunk in her hair, her eyes, in her mouth, her face distorted by the slimy goo.  I was completely captured by the euphoria of the moment.  I realised my hand was urgently feeling between my legs.  I was sopping wet, my knickers soaked in my own juices.

“Now make her go home to her husband without wiping it off.” I don’t know where it came from or what made me say it., but it was met with shocked protestations as my ears were filled with the sound of her desperate protests.

“I can’t Michael, it’s too much.” I knew she was right; it was.

“Stop it.  Sorry, I take it back,” I cried, but my pleas were ignored.

“You know the rules Sofi.  Do it or it’s over.” I continued to cry down the line, pleading for them to forget what I’d said until I realised that there was no one there.  The line was dead.  I couldn’t get her out of my head and I needed to know what had happened to her.  The thought of her going to her husband like that, walking towards him with Michael’s cum dripping down her face, perversely thrilled me.

My fingers eagerly found my engorged clitoris sending wave after wave of delicious sensations through my nerves until I was shaking uncontrollably as the intensity of my orgasm overcame me.  At that moment I was desperate to exchange places with Sofi, to have his cock inside me, his cum covering my body.

Ping

I love your imagination, Claire.
Can’t wait to meet you.
I wanted it too.  More than I dared admit.

Is Sofi okay?  I asked, seeking assurance that he hadn’t made her do something that she didn’t want to.

Don’t worry
She’s fine
She loves the game

Though all the correspondence of the past few months.  There was a question that I wanted to ask.  It confused and provoked me.

Michael
I have a question
Why older women?
Claire