He Couldn’t Contain his Excitement (part 5)


Mistake (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

He should never have given me that hug that Mexicans do.  It’s like they squeeze and relax, without releasing you; squeeze and relax; squeeze and relax. By the third squeeze I was lost and breathless and the moan that escaped my lips and entered into him through his ear must have been his undoing.

There was silence. The silence I told you about.

Then his lips began to seek mine. And then I heard that sound; the one that was both full of anguish and pleasure as he grabbed my hand merely placing it on top of the steel rod that he must of broke off of some car he was working on before he left his shop and stuffed it into his pants for protection or something… Or, what was I thinking? THAT had to be his you-know-what! It barely had time to register in my head before he was sighing with relief and his jeans were totally soaked.

And that was it. The end. He couldn’t contain his excitement.

What an incredible let-down. He went home on cloud nine because he’d got to release all that pent-up sexual frustration WITHOUT actually cheating on his wife–if you look at it in a certain way. For me, on the other hand, the sexual frustration was only beginning. I was outraged at having taken such a terrible risk; one that I’m not very proud of because I soooo do not believe in adultery; well under most conditions. A horrible risk and NOTHING to show for it in the end.

As usual, I went to bed alone and the only way I could console myself was to NOT focus on his dysfunction, but to convince myself that it was all because I am such a lovely enchantress that his climax just decided to rush right out and meet me, not asking for his permission first. Yeah, that’s what happened.