Married Lover....

....yes, I've got one of those, too. Any self-disrespecting young woman should have one, as should every mid-life crisis bloke who can't quite believe that 'the chicks' won't go for them anymore. Despite having been happily married for nearly as long as I've been kicking my heels on this planet, it seems that even his coupling is porous. He's the geezer in the other post, by the way, the one whose salary doesn't quite match his expectations of a Ferrari. I can't imagine Jeremy Clarkson praising my chassis as much as that of an F40's.....I don't respond to a heavy touch, for a start....but demographically, there's a decent enough age-gap to be yawningly predictable and he wears the ties whilst I wear the low-cut jeans.

We had sex in his car a few nights ago.....it was freezing cold outside, the windows of his car steamed up, icy stars tacked high above the lorry park - amused snort - that we laid down in. He stripped, I stripped and then paused for The Check....this is, ladies and gents, the bit where you reach down and check that said bloke has removed his socks. He hadn't. I sighed and when he, mouth halfway to mine in a pose of blissful ignorance, realised I wasn't moving my gob the same way whispered,

'What?'

'Socks, honey, socks,' I said, lazily laying back, fully reclined, grinning, daring him to touch me, to lay one desperate finger on me whilst still wearing those ghastly garments. Quickly, he whipped them off. Very quickly, actually.....