After my first experience, life moved on quickly. I was married, happy and before long…pregnant. Between morning sickness, baby clothes, sleepless nights and discovering that tiny humans somehow produce laundry at industrial levels, my little journey of exploration was temporarily put on hold.
To be hones, during my pregnancy dating was the last thing on my mind.
Well…mostly.
But after giving birth, something slowly returned: curiosity, Not because anything was missing in my marriage – quite the opposite- but because I genuinely enjoyed discovering new sides of myself. And apparently, motherhoods hadn’t magically switched off my ability to flirt.
That realization het me during a business dinner.
Among the group was a younger colleague who spent the entire evening shamelessly flirting with me. You know the type: lingering eye contact, teasing comments, finding excuses to stand just a little too close. The dangerous kind of charming.
And the worst part?
I loved the attention.
He knew perfectly well that I was married. He also knew I was a mother. Neither of those facts seemed to discourage him in the slightest. If anything, it almost seemed to motivate him more. Meanwhile, I sat there pretending to focus on the conversation while internally thinking: Oh no…he’s attractive and confident. This is how trouble starts.
By the end of the evening, he casually mentioned that he’d love to take me out sometime.
I smiled politely.
Then spent the entire ride home replaying the conversation in my head like a teenager with her first crush.
When I got home, I told my husband everything. Every flirtatious comment. Every lingering glance. Every moment that had secretly thrilled me far more than I wanted to admit.
My husband listened patiently, grinned and simply said: “So…why don’t you just text him and aks when he’s free?”
Honestly, at this point my husband deserved some kind of Olympic medal for open-mindedness.
So I did exactly that. And just like that, my second bull entered the story.
Two days later, I had a date. And somehow, it all felt surprisingly natural.
We shared a taxi into the city, and even during the ride I could already tell he was very interested in me – not just polite-dinner interested, but constantly finding excuses to look at me interested. The kind of attention that gives you butterflies while simultaneously making you question every sensible life decision you’ve ever made.
Once we arrived at the restaurant, he immediately slipped into gentleman mode. He took my coat, pulled out my chair and before long we were deep in conversation. The chemistry between us was impossible to ignore. There was flirting, teasing, lingering smiles…and that dangerous kind of eye contact that lasts just a second too long.
After a while, he leaned forward slightly and asked: “So why did you want to go on a date with me?”
I smiled. “ Why do you think”
He laughed and admitted there were probably a thousand different answers running through his head.
Honestly, I appreciated the honesty.
I took a sip of my drink and told him, “ I’m always looking for a little pleasure in life.”
He raised an eyebrow immediately.
“Your husband really knows about this?”
I grinned mischievously before answering: “My husband enjoys it when I enjoy it.”
The look on my face apparently told him everything he needed to know, because he laughed, shook his head slightly and from that moment on, the atmosphere between us changed completely.
The polite business-diner energy was officially gone. And suddenly, this wasn’t just dinner anymore.
I playfully traced circles over his hand under the table and immediately noticed the effect it had on him. The look in his eyes became impossible to miss.
At one point, I excused myself to go to the restroom where I quickly sent my husband a little update – because apparently this had become our version of healthy communication.
When I returned to the table, my date looked at me and said: “ You really are incredibly attractive.”
Not exactly subtle…but very effective.
A moment later, he leaned across the table and kissed me briefly. Short, confident and just intense enough to leave me wanting more.
By then it was already late, so a taxi was called for us. Outside, we stood together in the darkness waiting for it to arrive. The city was quiet, the tension between us absolutely not.
We kissed again.
As I leaned back lightly against the wall, his hands became a little more adventurous. First teasingly exploring the curve of my hips before slowly sliding higher underneath my dress. I was wearing a thong – which, admittedly, made thing very easy for him – and judging by the grin on his face, he appreciated that detail very much.
At that point, I think we both knew this evening was no longer pretending to be innocent.
His grip tightened slightly around my ass before his hand slowly slid to my wet pussy. As he moved closer against me, I could feel his cock growing of excitement, which only made my pussy even wetter. As his fingers slipped into my pussy, I could hear his breathing grow heavier, which only made the moment even more exciting.
Meanwhile, I softly kissed his ear, which clearly only made him even more excited. Teasingly, I pushed him back a little – partly because I enjoyed driving him crazy and partly because it was becoming obvious he wanted much more than a goodnight kiss.
And honestly?
I wasn’t exactly discouraging him.
Just as the tention between us was reaching dangerous levels, I spotted the taxi pulling up. My date glanced at it, then back at me and casually announced that he’d join me “to make sure I got home safely.”
Very gentleman-like.
Very believable.
And absolutely nobody was fooled.
In the back of the taxi, we continued kissing like two teenagers who had completely forgotten the driver was sitting less than a meter away. He kept fingering my pussy the entire ride and by that point I was so worked up I could barely think straight anymore.
As the taxi turned into my street, his fingers were still deep in my pussy, clearly in no hurry to behave himself.
When we finally stopped in front of my house, my husband was standing calmly in the doorway waiting for me – which, admittedly, is not something you see in most marriages.
I gave my date one long kiss before saying goodbye. Neither of us really wanted the evening to end, so before I stepped out of the taxi, we already made plans for the following nights.
This time, at his place.
Because apparently, one date wasn’t enough.