Straight Female / 27
Firstly, I realize that the vast majority of confessions shown here are, fictional, made up stories. I can assure you that this one is not. I know that confessing to what I have done is not going to help me. But, I remember the words of advice from my Dad who always said that, when he had a problem, he wrote everything down and, somehow, most times anyway, a solution came to him. I doubt whether there is a solution. But, as I haven't slept for a week and my nerves are at breaking point I will try anything. Firstly, you need to know the background;
My husband, Darren, is an architect. Three years ago he left a very, well paid job to start up in business on his own. It was a disaster. People who, enthusiastically, promised him work never came through. After three months he was reduced to drawing up plans for building extensions, for a few hundred pounds. Even these jobs where few and far between. My salary only just about paid the mortgage. We sold our two cars and bought an old run-around. We both tried our best to stay positive but, in our hearts we knew things where going from bad to worse. Even more worrying, Darren was going down hill, rapidly. He'd lost loads of weight, wasn't sleeping and was slowly declining into a deep depression. I was worried sick.
Darren has always been very good at most sports, but what he's brilliant at is, squash, he was, once, a regular county player. One night I suggested that maybe a game would take his mind off our problems. There was only one month to run on his club membership and, obviously, we couldn't afford to renew it. I virtually had to prise him out of the door, but, very reluctantly, he went.
He came home, smelling of beer, and told me he'd had to try really hard, normally he could beat most players very easily, to beat someone called, Charlie but, more importantly, Charlie owned his own construction company and, over a beer or two, had promised him work. I'd heard it all before, but I was just grateful that, that night Darren slept soundly.
Amazingly, a few days later, Charlie rang. He was on his way down to see a client in Cornwall and asked Darren did he have the time to join him. Darren had a case packed in two minutes. You probably wont believe it but the client was a film producer, newly married, for the fourth time. His wife, thirty years his junior, had fallen in love with the tiny coastal port of Fowey. As a first anniversary gift he'd bought her a house overlooking the estuary, which he intended demolishing and wanted design and build plans for a new home. Darren, was like a new man he put his heart and soul into the project and produced a design that they both loved. He was fearful of presenting Charlie with an excessive bill. Amazingly, when he presented it Charlie phoned him and said it was ridiculously too low and when he suggested a more realistic figure, well Darren and I bought a bottle of Champagne that night.
The rest, you might say, is history. Darren and Charlie got on like a house on fire. Over the next three years Charlie gave us more and more work. Darren opened his own offices and we now employ three architects and two surveyors. Recently we've bought a plot of land and Darren has designed a breathtakingly beautiful house. We're living the dream! Of course Darren now has other clients but still our main source of income is Charlie. It's important to know this, without Charlie we would be back to square one. Now, to the present and the biggest problem of my life.
Last week, it was Charlie's fortieth birthday, Darren booked a very expensive restaurant for dinner. It was also a chance to meet Charlie's new girlfriend, Gabriella. Gabriella was the most amazingly beautiful woman I had ever seen in real life. Half English and half Spanish, she was younger than me but had a composure and a self assurance that belied her age. Black hair fell, in soft waves, down her back, with a figure to die for. I was in complete awe of her. But when she sat down she was instantly likeable and not at all like her image. Full of fun with an impish sense of humour and no pretentions. All four of us hit it off, immediately. It was obvious that Charlie, who had, had numerous girlfriends since we'd known him, a typical `Jack the Lad`, was absolutely besotted. His eyes never left her and as we started on our third bottle of wine Charlie announced that, smiling broadly, Gabriella had agreed to his offer of marriage. Darren ordered the Champagne.
The night was going so well that we got a taxi into town and found, Saturday night, a very packed pub. We even found ourselves an empty booth and, as Gabriella slid into the horse shoe seat, that's when my troubles began.
There was a band, very good, but very load, so it was impossible to have a four way conversation. So, as the two guys got their heads together at one side of the table we did the same at the other. Gabriella was brilliant company and we where both very relaxed, laughing, too much wine, at silly things. When I felt her hand in my lap I just thought it was a sort of friendly gesture. But when she began stroking the inside of my thigh I panicked. I tried not to make it obvious but I slid my hand down and took hold of her wrist. Incredibly, she made no reaction, she didn't falter her lightly accented voice continued, as if nothing had happened. I so we stayed like that, the pub was dark, the music loud and she talked normally, yet all the while she gently ran her long nails against my thigh and pretended as if nothing was happening. It was all very bizarre, weird, I was frightened that the guys would sense something but they were in deep conversation.
The music played and my head began to swim a little. Try holding your arm in tension for any length of time and you eventually start to weaken. So as I nodded and smiled at whatever she was saying I relaxed, ever so slightly, and her hand moved up my skirt. I couldn't make a scene, this was Charlie's future wife and, my God!, she seemed to be enjoying herself. So, I gave in and right there in a that crowded pub she got her fingers inside me. And! even worse, she made me cum. Because Darren was so busy with the business our sex life was largely on the back burner. So, I didn't just cum, I exploded. I had to bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out. Gabriella even kissed me, a peck on the cheek, as her hand withdrew.
So, this is my dilemma, Gabriella has already texted me three times about doing `lunch`. I haven't replied. Yesterday Darren arrived home early, in a flaming temper, and said that Charlie had phoned him and that Gabriella was a bit upset about why I had not answered her texts. I made some lame excuse about not charging my phone but Darren was furious and told me I must get in touch, immediately. I'm terrified, where will all this lead? I know what will happen, eventually, if I see Gabriella. I can't tell Darren. And Charlie worships the ground she walks on. What can I do? Darren could lose his business? I could lose Darren? We could lose everything over this terrible thing. I could have got up and left feigned illness, whatever. Is there anyway out?
My husband, Darren, is an architect. Three years ago he left a very, well paid job to start up in business on his own. It was a disaster. People who, enthusiastically, promised him work never came through. After three months he was reduced to drawing up plans for building extensions, for a few hundred pounds. Even these jobs where few and far between. My salary only just about paid the mortgage. We sold our two cars and bought an old run-around. We both tried our best to stay positive but, in our hearts we knew things where going from bad to worse. Even more worrying, Darren was going down hill, rapidly. He'd lost loads of weight, wasn't sleeping and was slowly declining into a deep depression. I was worried sick.
Darren has always been very good at most sports, but what he's brilliant at is, squash, he was, once, a regular county player. One night I suggested that maybe a game would take his mind off our problems. There was only one month to run on his club membership and, obviously, we couldn't afford to renew it. I virtually had to prise him out of the door, but, very reluctantly, he went.
He came home, smelling of beer, and told me he'd had to try really hard, normally he could beat most players very easily, to beat someone called, Charlie but, more importantly, Charlie owned his own construction company and, over a beer or two, had promised him work. I'd heard it all before, but I was just grateful that, that night Darren slept soundly.
Amazingly, a few days later, Charlie rang. He was on his way down to see a client in Cornwall and asked Darren did he have the time to join him. Darren had a case packed in two minutes. You probably wont believe it but the client was a film producer, newly married, for the fourth time. His wife, thirty years his junior, had fallen in love with the tiny coastal port of Fowey. As a first anniversary gift he'd bought her a house overlooking the estuary, which he intended demolishing and wanted design and build plans for a new home. Darren, was like a new man he put his heart and soul into the project and produced a design that they both loved. He was fearful of presenting Charlie with an excessive bill. Amazingly, when he presented it Charlie phoned him and said it was ridiculously too low and when he suggested a more realistic figure, well Darren and I bought a bottle of Champagne that night.
The rest, you might say, is history. Darren and Charlie got on like a house on fire. Over the next three years Charlie gave us more and more work. Darren opened his own offices and we now employ three architects and two surveyors. Recently we've bought a plot of land and Darren has designed a breathtakingly beautiful house. We're living the dream! Of course Darren now has other clients but still our main source of income is Charlie. It's important to know this, without Charlie we would be back to square one. Now, to the present and the biggest problem of my life.
Last week, it was Charlie's fortieth birthday, Darren booked a very expensive restaurant for dinner. It was also a chance to meet Charlie's new girlfriend, Gabriella. Gabriella was the most amazingly beautiful woman I had ever seen in real life. Half English and half Spanish, she was younger than me but had a composure and a self assurance that belied her age. Black hair fell, in soft waves, down her back, with a figure to die for. I was in complete awe of her. But when she sat down she was instantly likeable and not at all like her image. Full of fun with an impish sense of humour and no pretentions. All four of us hit it off, immediately. It was obvious that Charlie, who had, had numerous girlfriends since we'd known him, a typical `Jack the Lad`, was absolutely besotted. His eyes never left her and as we started on our third bottle of wine Charlie announced that, smiling broadly, Gabriella had agreed to his offer of marriage. Darren ordered the Champagne.
The night was going so well that we got a taxi into town and found, Saturday night, a very packed pub. We even found ourselves an empty booth and, as Gabriella slid into the horse shoe seat, that's when my troubles began.
There was a band, very good, but very load, so it was impossible to have a four way conversation. So, as the two guys got their heads together at one side of the table we did the same at the other. Gabriella was brilliant company and we where both very relaxed, laughing, too much wine, at silly things. When I felt her hand in my lap I just thought it was a sort of friendly gesture. But when she began stroking the inside of my thigh I panicked. I tried not to make it obvious but I slid my hand down and took hold of her wrist. Incredibly, she made no reaction, she didn't falter her lightly accented voice continued, as if nothing had happened. I so we stayed like that, the pub was dark, the music loud and she talked normally, yet all the while she gently ran her long nails against my thigh and pretended as if nothing was happening. It was all very bizarre, weird, I was frightened that the guys would sense something but they were in deep conversation.
The music played and my head began to swim a little. Try holding your arm in tension for any length of time and you eventually start to weaken. So as I nodded and smiled at whatever she was saying I relaxed, ever so slightly, and her hand moved up my skirt. I couldn't make a scene, this was Charlie's future wife and, my God!, she seemed to be enjoying herself. So, I gave in and right there in a that crowded pub she got her fingers inside me. And! even worse, she made me cum. Because Darren was so busy with the business our sex life was largely on the back burner. So, I didn't just cum, I exploded. I had to bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out. Gabriella even kissed me, a peck on the cheek, as her hand withdrew.
So, this is my dilemma, Gabriella has already texted me three times about doing `lunch`. I haven't replied. Yesterday Darren arrived home early, in a flaming temper, and said that Charlie had phoned him and that Gabriella was a bit upset about why I had not answered her texts. I made some lame excuse about not charging my phone but Darren was furious and told me I must get in touch, immediately. I'm terrified, where will all this lead? I know what will happen, eventually, if I see Gabriella. I can't tell Darren. And Charlie worships the ground she walks on. What can I do? Darren could lose his business? I could lose Darren? We could lose everything over this terrible thing. I could have got up and left feigned illness, whatever. Is there anyway out?
