Sandie's First Swing - Part 3 free porn video

I was woken early the following morning by a band of sunlight streaming through a gap in the curtains. For a few moments I was confused by my strange surroundings but as my brain cleared, the events of the previous evening filled my mind.

For the second time in my life I had woken naked in bed next to our long-time fried Paul after a night of passionate sex. Paul, the man who was now sleeping deeply alongside me, his handsome face towards mine, his eyes closed like a child’s. A warm glow came to my tummy as I remembered all he had said to me and we had done together since the kids and I had arrived angry and unannounced at his door the previous evening.

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, listening to the softness of his slow breathing alongside me. How different this felt from the time he had first seduced me on holiday in Wales; when I had woken wracked with guilt and had plunged headlong into the weeks of sheer hell that had ended with the termination of my unexpected pregnancy.

No, this morning was entirely different. This time there had been no sounds of my husband’s infidelity coming from the next room to hurt me and justify my own misdemeanours. This time, instead of reluctantly acquiescing to Paul’s advances, I had willingly submitted to his considerable seductive powers and joined whole-heartedly in the night of passion that had followed.

My inexperience as a lover had shown embarrassingly on many occasions but he had been a patient teacher and as a result, I had lost more and more of my inhibitions and enjoyed a night of mind-numbing ecstasy at his hands; a night of lovemaking even better than the heights to which he had taken me during my only previous infidelity.

I took a deep breath and stretched out under the duvet. My legs and hips ached from the pounding he had given them and I blushed as I remembered how the pressure of his powerful body had felt between my legs and the feeling of his strong firm body deep within my own. My nipples were sore too and I winced as the cotton of the duvet cover rasped against their sensitive teats when I turned. I lay there still, closed my eyes and tried to count the number of times he had taken me during the night but couldn’t be sure - I had fallen asleep on him in the early hours as I had done a year ago in Wales.

My mind wandered as I lay in the early morning silence. I could hear the sound of movement coming from downstairs which could only mean the kids were waking. For a moment I worried that Emily would come upstairs on her usual ‘find Mummy’ visit but there was no sign of it and I remembered that the bedroom door was most definitely locked. I relaxed again and listened to Paul’s deep, masculine breathing a little longer, thinking how unlike my husband’s it sounded; long slow and deep instead of Tom’s soft, shallow inhalations.

I frowned as I thought of Tom; how he had deceived me for so long and wondered whether he and Paul’s wife Lisa were lying in their hotel bedroom as Paul and I were now lying in their marital bed.

How could my husband have done this to me? After all he and I had said to each other; promised to each other and been through, how could my husband have maintained his affair with Lisa for so long? For a moment, all the pain of his deceit washed over me again, followed by vivid memories of the heartache and guilt of the abortion. My hands flew unconsciously to my lower belly and I felt large, slow tears running from the corner of my closed eyes, across my cheeks and dropping onto the pillow.

“Are you okay, Sandie!” Paul’s voice alongside me was soft and earnest. I turned to look into his anxious eyes and tried to blink away the tears.

“It’s… it’s nothing, really.” I mumbled.

“No regrets, I hope,” he whispered.

“Not about last night. Not about us,” I said truthfully.

He rolled onto his back and reached out for my hand under the duvet. Finding it, he interlocked our fingers, squeezed gently and for a while we both stared at the band of sun moving across the ceiling.

“I’ve been dreaming of last night ever since…” Paul began then stopped.

“Really?”

“Couldn’t you tell?” he asked, “I don’t get as passionate as that with just anyone!”

“Don’t tease me,” I said, my face red with embarrassment, “but thank you for being so… patient with me.”

There was another pause.

“It was worth the effort. And the wait!”

His voice was alive with mischief as he rolled onto his side and looked me straight in the eye. I felt his fingers on my tummy, stroking my tingling flesh gently from the underside of my boobs to the tangled triangle between my upper thighs. Once again I felt the unmistakeable signs of my battered body beginning to respond despite its tiredness.

“I’m pleased you thought so!”

I smiled, letting my legs relax and part slightly as his lips found my cheek, then my ear, then my own lips. Then he raised himself onto his right elbow and, as his tongue worked its way into my open mouth, I felt his fingers gently working their way through the messy, semen-matted tangle of my pubic hair and into the top of my slit where he began to part my lips in search of the swollen clitoris that lurked within.

“Ouch!” I winced, giggling.

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I…

“No, I’m sorry,” I smiled into his worried face, “I’m a bit sore and a bit… sticky…”

“Oh… Um… sorry…,” he snatched his hand away from my vulva but I grabbed his wrist.

“I didn’t say no,” I whispered, “but we’ll have to be very quiet.”

He grinned and the bed creaked slightly as he lifted his body over mine. This time I opened my thighs without hesitation to make room for his strong, athletic legs. His cock was already hard and a thrill of anticipation passed through me when I felt its mass fall on my lower belly as he placed his strong arms either side of my shoulders and his beautiful, fit body loomed over me, blocking out the increasing sunlight.

“Don’t let me hurt you,” he hissed softly.

I just smiled and reached down to find the shaft I wanted so badly. Something warm and smooth brushed against the back of my hand and a moment later my fingers closed around the large, firm, smooth sided pole of muscle that had already brought me so much pleasure. I slid my grip down the shaft until I felt wiry pubic hair against my hand then ran my fingers back up the shaft until its smooth, rounded head nestled in my palm.

“Oh my God! Sandie…”

He breathed in noisily as I squeezed his shaft firmly, still amazed at its raw, masculine strength then directed the smooth, swollen head towards my opening, carefully parting my puffy outer then my sore inner lips until the tip was just inside my loose, ludicrously slippery vagina. I released his erection, spread my thighs a little wider and lay back in excited anticipation.

A heartbeat later, I felt the muscles of Paul’s legs and back contract, the bed rocked slightly and in a single smooth thrust his incredible cock plunged deep into my unresisting body, not pausing in its inexorable progress until his pubic hair ground firmly against the top of my slit and the thick base of his shaft stretched my opening wide.

“Ohhh!” I moaned under my breath in a mixture of pleasure, fullness, complete surrender and, I have to confess, a certain amount of pain as the extent of my soreness was suddenly revealed.

“Too painful?” Paul asked, smiling down on me but with concern in his eyes.

I shook my head and smiled back but bit my lip slightly as I felt him draw back until just the tip of his cock was still within me.

“Mmmhh!”

I moaned aloud as his lower belly slapped against mine and his cock was driven deep into me again. His strong thighs forced mine wider apart allowing him to penetrate an extra inch or so into me until his head collided with my cervix and gave me what felt like a small punch in the belly to go with the stinging from my slit.

“Mmmmh! Mmmh!”

The bed began to creak as he thrust into me for a third then a fourth time, my rapidly increasing lubrication easing the soreness and making it easier for him to penetrate me deeper and deeper, which he did over and over again. I felt filled, I felt fulfilled, I felt young and attractive again.

“Oh yessss,” I hissed, ‘Yess oh yes fuck meeee… fuck meee…”

The sound of my own slurred voice surprised me, but the words surprised me even more. They clearly surprised Paul too because his half-closed eyes opened wide, a determined look spread across his face and his body tensed as he began to thrust harder, deeper and faster into me.

“Mmmmmmyyyyeessssss!”

It felt like my body was opening like a flower beneath him as he relentlessly penetrated me, the soreness now overcome, lost in the wet slapping sounds of his cock churning my juices. A wall of heat began to ripple outwards from my vulva, across my belly and down my legs, building in intensity with each powerful thrust.

Pauls’ voice joined mine as the wave of pleasure rose higher and higher within me, making my spine tingle and my fists clench and unclench on their own. I grabbed his strong shoulders in my hands, sinking my fingernails deep into his flesh then raking them down his upper arms as his thrusts grew faster and faster.

‘Creak-creak, creak-creak, creak-creak’

The bed moaned and groaned beneath us as Paul’s body hammered into mine and a second, new wave of climax began to wash over me. I bit my lip harder but couldn’t stop the moans escaping my mouth as the first serious orgasmic pulse struck me hard, opening my eyes until they felt as if they were about to pop out of my head and making the muscles of my tummy go into spasm.

“OhhhhhhhoooowwwWWW!”

Another powerful climactic pulse hit me, tightening my chest and making me shake uncontrollably under Paul’s irresistible thrusts which grew faster and harder.

‘Creak-creak, creak-creak, creak-creak’

In the night time with the kids asleep downstairs and, my ears ringing with my own lust, the noise from the bed springs hadn’t bothered me but now with the children awake in the house and with the noise growing louder with every powerful thrust, even my orgasm couldn’t entirely rid me of the fear of discovery.

“Come! Come nowwwwWWWW!” I growled through gritted teeth, clamping down on his shaft as hard as my pelvic floor muscles would allow, just as a third wave of climax robbed me of control and speech entirely.

The effect on Paul was immediate; his thrusting grew wild and uncontrolled, his wonderful steady rhythm broke, I felt the head of his wonderful cock swell, press hard against my insides and moments later his handsome face broke into a terrible contorted grimace as he brought himself to orgasm inside me.

“Nnnnnggghhhh!”

My eyes were fixed on Paul’s handsome face as this amazing man’s body went into spasm; the build-up of pressure within his body; the force of his thrusts hurting me, the twisting and contorting of his face, neck and spine, the sheer power of his legs as they drove his cock into me so hard I slid bodily up the sticky, crusted sheets.

Then came the sudden and dramatic change as he began to ejaculate in me; the release of tension in his brow; the dreamy half-drunk look on his handsome face as the shaft within me pulsed and throbbed; the long, low sigh that escaped his lips.

As his thrusts grew gentler and slowed almost to a halt, I imagined once again the warm, thick flow of Paul’s semen cascading against my battered cervix. Bewildered, I wondered how he still had enough seed within him for this latest outpouring after so much lovemaking throughout the night. But continue it did, his wonderful cock throbbing and pulsing more slowly as his body emptied into mine and the ejaculations slowed.

Eventually his movements ceased altogether and his body went still above mine. After a short while I felt his erection softening, leaving once again a strange feeling of physical emptiness but the wonderful emotional fulfilment that a loving insemination can bring. Then he slowly lowered his strong body onto mine, crushing my boobs and hips awkwardly as his flaccid cock slipped from my body.

Our eyes were fixed on each other’s for a long time before he kissed me gently on the nose and forehead then rolled off my spent body and cuddled alongside me, panting.

We lay together in silence. As I listened to the sound of the kids playing downstairs, I could feel my body aching badly from Paul’s assault but it didn’t matter. I had cheated on my husband for again but that didn’t seem to matter either. Paul must have guessed something like this was going through my mind when he spoke.

“Still no regrets I hope!”

I turned my head towards him.

“None at all,” I replied honestly, “but I do wonder what happens next.”

“What do you want to happen? Is this another one-night stand or…” he let the words fade in the air.

I thought for a moment. Lying next to my lover, freshly inseminated, leaving Paul was the last thing in the world I wanted. But life is more complicated…

‘I’m not sure I’m in the best frame of mind to make a rational decision,” I said quietly, “not after all that’s just happened.” I could feel myself blushing again.

“You were amazing, you know that?” he said warmly, turning to look at me again. I blushed deeper then to my surprise he sat upright in the bed and turned towards me.

“Stay the rest of the weekend,” he said eagerly, “Please, Sandie..”

The idea caught me by surprise. My first reaction as the ‘Old Sandie’ would have been to refuse but after last night and this morning, was I still that person?

“I don’t know, Paul,” I said, old habits dying hard, “I’d really like to but…”

There wasn’t a ‘but’, and I knew it. I really wanted to stay the weekend. Still, I the Old Me had to protest however much the New Me wanted it.

“We haven’t got any clothes or washing stuff or…”

“We could nip you home to pack a few things,” Paul countered strongly, “or you could simply share ours. Our kids’ clothes will fit your two and… well, I’m sure you could find something of Lisa’s that would do.”

Suddenly I knew that if I stepped beck through the door of our house I would stay there; that my guilt and misplaced feelings of loyalty would prevent me returning to Paul. Suddenly I knew that In wanted to be with him; I needed to see what it would be like to be with him all weekend as lovers. If I stepped through the door of my home now I would never know. I would forever have been his one night fuck!

“It would be a shame to break up the party,” Paul continued, nodding at the bedroom door through which the sounds of happy playing were distantly audible.

“What about all their commitments? You know, football and swimming and...” but there was no conviction in me and his dismissive reply was very welcome.

“Would it really hurt them to miss one week?”

Ten minutes later, I entered the playroom wrapped only in Lisa’s red silk bathrobe while Paul showered and dressed hastily upstairs. The kids were still surprisingly well behaved; something I later learned was a deliberate tactic to persuade Paul and me to let them all stay together. It worked and, needless to say, the noisy approval that greeted the news that we were staying all day and another night helped overcome the feelings of guilt in my mind.

If I’m honest, I felt just as guilty about the kids missing their sporting activities as I did about continuing to cheat on my unfaithful husband but it’s the truth; I couldn’t help it.

When Paul joined us dressed in his tight black jeans and a blue polo shirt that displayed the well-honed muscles of his chest and arms to amazing effect I felt my heartbeat surge and my tummy turn to jelly.

Had I really just spent the night with this gorgeous man? I hurried upstairs to shower and dress as Paul made tea and took charge in the playroom.

*

What can I say about the rest of weekend?

Well, at the very least, all six of us had a wonderful time. Later that morning we drove for an hour to a reservoir, rented bikes and spent the rest of the day on a long ride before going to the cinema on our way home. We even ate in a fast food restaurant that I would normally have banned my kids from entering but which I had to admit was rather fun.

Predictably, most of Lisa’s clothes were much too small for me, apart from her bras, which equally predictably were much too big but eventually I found a pair of leggings and a long top that weren’t too obscene and which were fine for cycling.

It felt very strange but oddly exciting to go out in public with Paul and all four kids wearing his wife’s clothes and do doubt being mistaken for his wife. The fact that the clothes were much tighter and more revealing than I was used to simply added to the excitement and I found myself unexpectedly aroused in unexpected places.

Fortunately the reservoir was far enough away to make bumping into any of our friends very unlikely.

In truth, there was something relaxed and natural about the whole day and in the evening when the kids were asleep and I slipped naked into bed alongside the man who had become my lover, I no longer felt self-conscious, dirty or unfaithful. It felt right; as if something that always should have happened was finally taking place.

For the first time since the holiday in Wales, I felt truly happy.

This time our lovemaking was long and slow and beautiful. My inhibitions were now considerably lowered; I felt more at ease; for me, even adventurous.

It felt exciting rather than shameful when I clumsily but voluntarily took his long firm erection in my hand then tentatively into my mouth, awkwardly kissing its long, smooth sides and licking its smooth tip. Paul was patient and sensitive, guiding my tongue over its smooth head and along the ridge beneath before taking it deep into my mouth, my teeth scraping lightly along the sides of his shaft.

He moaned and sighed as I licked and sucked the wonderfully firm, thick erection that had given me such pleasure and promised to give even more. I remember being amazed at the unfamiliar slimy, metallic taste of the pre-cum that oozed from its tiny lips as I gently sucked and I wondered why I had resisted doing this for so many years. He even taught me how to cup and fondle the tight sack at its base, running the globes within between my fingertips before taking them one by one between my lips.

My efforts were rewarded by Paul’s strong hands which gripped my hair tightly, forcing my head down onto his shaft until its smooth thick head brushed against the back of my throat making me gag slightly. I didn’t care; after so many years as a simple wife and mother, I was becoming a real lover too.

I have to confess I have never found a man’s penis to be attractive. Despite my new boldness, Paul’s was no more appealing than my husband’s I did have to close my eyes before taking it into my mouth. Once I had started, to my relief it became easier and easier and, encouraged by Paul’s obvious pleasure, I tried to learn quickly.

Given the extraordinary pleasure it had brought, I was surprised to see that my lover’s erect penis was noticeably smaller than my husband’s - clearly size isn’t everything after all - but it was also strangely curved, bent markedly upwards and as I licked and sucked inexpertly, I wondered momentarily if this was why it had brought such new and exciting feelings to my body when we had been making love.

By then I was so involved in our lovemaking that I would happily have allowed him to come in my mouth – not even my husband had ever done that - but before he could reach the point of no return, Paul gently lifted my head from his groin and firmly pressed me back onto the sheet.

A moment later our positions were reversed and I felt the touch of his expert tongue between my thighs, on my lower belly and my swollen and tingling outer lips. My chest ached with unfamiliar pleasure and anticipation. When the tip of his tongue darted along the full length of my slit without warning in a way I had never even dreamed of before, my climax came instantly and violently, taking us both by surprise.

I had always resisted or refused when my husband had attempted to tongue me ‘down there’ but the new, sexually aware Sandie had had little difficulty overcoming that inhibition too and the results were mind-blowing. The first totally unexpected climax was followed by many wonderful after-shocks as Paul tongued my burning inner lips and clitoris until I thought I would either pee myself or die of pleasure or maybe even both.

I was already exhausted when, having manoeuvred me onto all fours, he finally mounted me. It was a position I had nearly always rejected with my husband as being too degrading for a woman but in Paul’s expert hands it now seemed raw, real, passionate and natural to offer myself to my wonderful lover in this brutal, all-surrendering way.

I squealed when he entered me firmly from behind; the feeling of penetration was so extreme that for a moment it completely overwhelmed me. Seconds later my arms had given way and my face was pressed hard into the pillow as he thrust faster and faster into my brazenly raised and obscenely presented vagina, his strong fingers gripping the flesh of my hips tightly, pulling me hard onto his pounding cock with every thrust.

I can’t remember how or if I responded to what can only be called a ‘good fucking’ but I do remember his thrusts being wild, fast and deep and that he reached his climax quickly.

I was too tired to climax again myself but when he ejaculated in me for the last time there were tears running down my cheeks and onto the pillow.

*

The sound of kids playing noisily and happily coming through the open bedroom door woke me on Sunday morning. I opened my eyes to find Paul in his shorts, bringing me a mug of tea in bed. If it were possible, he looked even more attractive with his light morning stubble, his powerful chest and arms bare and I once again glowed inside and blushed outside at the memory of what we had said and done to each other.

I sat up in bed, the duvet barely covering my boobs, smiled up at him and took the tea. I was still nervous; somewhat embarrassed at my performance during the night and worried that, after all the instructions in lovemaking I had needed, he might have lost some respect for me.

To my relief I saw nothing but warmth on his face.

“How do you feel this morning?” he asked, perching on the edge of the mattress.

“Good!” I grinned, sipping the tea, “I ache like hell but I feel the best I’ve felt in months!”

“Doctor Paul’s prescription worked then?” he chuckled.

“Like a dream,” I replied coyly then frowned. “You had to give me a lot of help though. Was I really that bad a lover?”

“Christ no!” he exclaimed, “You were amazing. I still can’t quite believe it’s all happening!”

“But compared to Lisa…” I began but he cut me off.

“Forget Lisa! This weekend is about you…” he kissed me on the lips, “and me…” he kissed me again.

Whether it was the truth or not, it was what I wanted to hear so I didn’t press for more reassurance.

The noise from downstairs grew louder and closer and I was slightly relieved when he didn’t try to make love to me again. Apart from the danger of discovery, my body needed time to recover too.

Breakfast was fun with all six of us crowded around the kitchen table then we all got dressed for the day. I let the hot water of the shower ease my aching muscles and joints. My not-unpleasant soreness would take longer to fade.

As I put on a little of Lisa’s makeup, I inspected myself in the mirror. Apart from looking tired, I could see little outward sign of the massive changes that had taken place within me; no obvious clues to my infidelity; nothing to suggest the surge in sexuality that had taken over my formerly-passive body.

When we were all dressed, Paul and I took the kids to an adventure playground in the forest, which they adored. The leggings and top I had worn the day before were sweaty and unusable after the heat of the bike ride. After a good look through her closet and several unsuccessful try-ons, I found a tight fitting, stretchy dress of Lisa’s that I hoped wasn’t too revealing and didn’t look ridiculously short for my rather older legs. I wore it with tights.

This was a mistake, which I only discovered when we arrived at the playground and it was too late to change; the damn thing rode up my thighs constantly, revealing my nylon-covered panties frequently and I had to wriggle it down every few minutes to cover what was left of my modesty.

Paul of course thought this was hilarious and very sexy so to please him I didn’t change when we returned to the house and cooked a very late lunch while the kids watched a movie on TV. Apart from a handful of squabbles, the kids were great too; so busy playing together that I don’t think they noticed the surreptitious hand-holding and occasional kissing that was going on between Paul and me at the playground or the outrageous groping that took place in the kitchen afterwards.

*

We were all disappointed later that evening when it was time for the party to end and for the three of us to return to our own home. The kids were bubbling over with chatter having enjoyed themselves immensely; all sleeping on the floor in the same room as they had done in Wales, and were now obviously exhausted.

As I drove home and their two heads lolled in the back seat, I knew I would pay the price through bad tempers the following morning when it was time to get them to school but right then that didn’t matter; it had been a wonderful weekend that not even the hard reality of Tom’s deceit and Lisa’s conniving had been able to spoil.

The emotional rollercoaster that had been the past year of my life had taken many turns over the two wonderful days we had spent together. Paul and I had made love at least half a dozen times in all – I had lost count and had fallen asleep on him at least twice – each penetration better than the last as our bodies had tuned into each other, our desires had become clearer and my remaining inhibitions had fallen away.

Indeed our farewell kiss - in the bedroom so the kids couldn’t see – had resulted in a brief, hasty but wonderfully passionate penetration on the edge of the mattress with Lisa’s tight dress bunched up around my waist. There had been no time to shower afterwards and I could still smell Paul’s distinctive musky, masculine scent on my body as we rolled home through the half empty streets.

I suddenly realised that I had made love to Paul in a single weekend more that I had with my husband in all the months since my termination, and would have even done more if Tom and Lisa’s imminent return hadn’t brought the adventure to an enforced end.

I pulled into the empty driveway remembering how different I had felt when I had bundled the kids into the car only forty-eight hours ago. So much had already happened; surely life couldn’t be the same again.

Waking the sleeping kids gently I cajoled them into washing their faces and brushing their teeth before going complaining and exhausted to bed. As I kissed them goodnight and closed their bedroom doors, I sighed with relief then went to the bedroom to bathe and change out of Lisa’s tight clothes.

I relaxed in the hot, deep water for a long time, letting it soothe my aching back, legs and hips as it washed away the last traces of Paul’s juices from the outside of my body. I could only imagine what might remain inside me but the thought brought a happy glow to my cheeks. As my fingertips began to prune, I reluctantly stepped onto the fluffy bath mat and, wrapping a large towel around me, went back into the bedroom.

“What’s this about spending the weekend with Paul?”

I span around suddenly at the sound of my husband’s angry voice behind and turned to see him standing up aggressively, his eyes burning into mine, Lisa’s dress in his hand. I hadn’t heard him come home but he had clearly been waiting for me to come out of the bathroom, growing angrier and angrier the longer I took in the bath.

“What?” I said, still recovering from the shock of his presence, “I didn’t hear you…”.

“Emily just told me about your weekend. How the kids shared the playroom and how ‘Mummy and Uncle Paul shared a room too’.”

My blood ran cold but I said nothing. My first reaction had been one of terrible guilt, but then I remembered what he had been doing all weekend and how he had deceived me for so many months. My fear and guilt turned to anger. I silently crossed to the dresser, picked up my husband’s mobile phone – the one that had started the whole course of events – and handed it to him.

“Read it!” I said coldly.

“What?”

“Read it, Tom!”

He tapped in his password then looked at the message from Lisa that immediately appeared on the screen.

“Oh fuck!” he said quietly, staring at my bare, wet feet.

I laughed mirthlessly.

“Fuck is right! Fuck is exactly what you’ve been doing with Lisa, and for the last nine months…!”

The row that followed remains the worst in our entire relationship. Although we both managed to keep our voices relatively low for the kids’ sake, we held little back.

I called him a lying, cheating bastard, a useless husband and lover (which was partly true) and a bad father (which wasn’t true at all). He called me a slut (unfair) and accused me of having sex in front of the kids (which wasn’t true).

He said that he had been driven to find a lover because I was so utterly useless in bed (which probably had been true but after my weekend with Paul was certainly not true now) and that fucking me was like fucking a sack of potatoes (this might have been true too but it was still cruel).

I said the problem was him, his tiny cock (I wanted to hurt him – it isn’t small at all) and useless technique (which was true but partly my fault) and that if he wanted to know what I was really like in bed he should ask a real man like Paul…

You get the picture? I’m not proud of myself. We spent the night in separate bedrooms but interestingly, neither of us told the other to get out of the house or threatened to leave.

Trying to hide things from the kids the next morning was very difficult but their tiredness and self centred bad temper helped and we succeeded in delaying the next stage of our row to the evening as we both had to go to work.

Mid morning I had a text message from Paul.

‘How are things?’

‘Not good. You?’

‘Same. Tom texted Lisa. Not good here.’

‘Sorry’

‘Regret it all now?’

‘Not at all it was wonderful. You?’

‘Same. Even more in love with you now.’

I thought a while before replying.

‘Don’t know what to do.’

‘I’m here if you need me’

‘Need to put the kids first’

‘True but remember I’m here anytime anywhere x’

‘Thanks. Will know more tonight. Bye for now x’

‘I love you Sandie xx’

I couldn’t bring myself to tell Paul that I loved him too but the pain I felt in not doing so told me I was in love with him and badly too.

*

I tried hard to concentrate on my work all day, which did help distract me, but when we were all home that evening the tension in the air was palpable. Eventually the kids finished their homework and went for an hour’s TV before bed so Tom and I could talk with the kitchen door closed and locked of course.

The outcome of the many bad words, hurt expressions and even more tearful outbursts from both of us was that we decided we would try to put it behind us, forgive each other and stay together.

Tom promised he would end things with Lisa straight away. I agreed I wouldn’t see Paul again.

This reduced both Paul and me to tears when I called to tell him. I don’t know how Lisa felt when Tom told her. He said she had cried but I can only take his word for it. I hoped it hurt her but I suspect it didn’t.

*

For the next month there was an eerie calm in the house as we both tried excessively hard to make things work, though some of the damage that had been done was permanent. Tom took me so violently that first night that it frightened us both and made me so sore that it was a full week before we made love again.

When we did make love I tried very hard to be a more interesting lover; to be more like I imagined Lisa to be in bed without appearing to have been turned into a slut by Paul. It was an impossible balance to achieve.

It was also impossible not to compare Tom’s lovemaking unfavourably with Paul’s amazing technique and I’m sure Tom was comparing me with Lisa so I suspect we both felt disappointed after each coupling.

We persevered for another month, each passing week making it easier to forgive if not forget. Even now I believe we could have reached an adequate on-going relationship if it hadn’t been for one massive event that ended all chances of normality returning.

I found out I was pregnant! Again! I was stunned! After my last mistake, how the Hell could I have let it happen?

I have had a long time to think about things since that eventful morning and of course in practical terms, there is no mystery at all.

Just like our one previous sexual encounter, all Paul and my lovemaking had been entirely unprotected. Paul didn’t know I was fertile; he didn’t know about the previous pregnancy and presumably thought I was on the pill. He was wrong.

Because of my husband’s vasectomy, I wasn’t on the pill and despite my previous unplanned conception, the idea of using a condom or anything else still hadn’t even occurred to me. I hadn’t expected to have a weekend of sex when I had stormed out of the house that fateful Friday evening and had had completely unprotected sex multiple times.

So the answer is simple in practical terms - in psychological terms, things get much murkier.

Why in God’s name had I been so careless, so irresponsible? After all I had been through the first time, why did I let it happen again? I have only come up with a few possible answers:

Is it possible that I am the kind of girl so flattered by the attention of an attractive man or so driven by animal lust that it overwhelmed my natural defences and turned my brain to jelly? Given that I have had so few partners in my life and have only had two children, this seems unlikely.

Was it just a subconscious desire for revenge against my cheating, deceitful husband, as if getting pregnant by another man was the ultimate punishment for Tom’s philandering? I’m sure there must have been more to it than that, though revenge certainly will have played an important part both in my willingness to be overpowered by Paul and the incredible pleasure I experienced at his tender hands.

Or was there something else subconsciously driving me too; something darker and deep within me that subverted my common sense long enough to get me pregnant.

Was it a desperate desire for forgiveness? A need it for atonement perhaps; as if the only way I could make amends for the grave sin I had committed in having Paul’s baby aborted was to get pregnant by him again?

I don’t know. All I do know is that without thinking, I had behaved in a way in which I was most likely to conceive and that nothing else had mattered. I had opened myself completely, both physically and emotionally as if I was trying to draw all that was good in Paul into my body. Every time he had ejaculated inside me I had cried real tears, holding him deep within me until he had softened completely and every last drop of his seed had passed into me.

And after each climax, I had lain on my back a long time with his fresh semen inside me, as if unconsciously afraid to lose his life giving seed; allowing the millions of tiny sperm to wriggle their way in the darkness, through my post-orgasmic, open cervix and into the womb beyond.

Whether fate had played any part in it I can’t ever know, but it’s clear that, as I drove back to the house I had called home that Sunday afternoon, history had already repeated itself and I was a pregnant woman again.

But this time when I came out of the en-suite bathroom with the positive test in my hand, my mind-set was entirely different. Despite the shock, there was no way I would even contemplate having a second abortion.

This time the baby was going to be born.

*

So what happened next?

It’s over a year since these events took place and Tom and I are divorced, which won’t come as a big surprise.

At first he really tried to make things work. I was surprised and pleased when he told me he understood my refusal to have a termination and for a while he tried hard to behave as if the baby was his, explaining to anyone who asked that his vasectomy had failed. He even joked about suing the surgeon who had carried it out but I suspect few of our family and friends were convinced and as my belly grew larger he found it harder and harder to ignore the fact that his wife was pregnant by another man.

The end came early in the seventh month of my pregnancy when I found the faded remains of a hickey on my husband’s neck and he confessed he had been seeing Lisa again for a few months. I felt cold, rejected and, predictably, fell back into Paul’s warm and still welcoming bed within a week though Tom and I kept living together for the kids’ sake.

The baby was eventually born prematurely and with a very short labour so neither Tom nor Paul was with me at the birth. Fortunately my mother was there at the time but when my new daughter emerged with her real father’s very distinctive looks, so very unlike my husband and our other children, my mother knew instantly what had happened and soon so did the rest of our family and friends.

My family were horrified; their own sweet innocent daughter and sister very obviously giving birth to another man’s baby was a big shock and a source of shame for quite a while, although they did their best to support me despite their disapproval. Tom’s infidelity, though far in excess of my own, was hidden away and was much easier for everyone to deal with or ignore.

Living with another man’s child is one thing when only you and the mother know. When it’s obvious to the world that you’ve been cuckolded, it’s much harder to bear and, not surprisingly, Tom couldn’t manage it – though to his credit, for a while he did try. We separated a short while afterwards and started divorce proceedings straight away. There was no point trying to heal things yet another time.

So it’s a sad ending? Maybe not!

Paul and Lisa are separated and I now live with Paul in his large house with all five of the children as one big, happy if rather noisy and complicated family.

We’re trying for another baby too before I get too old. It will be my fourth child but of course my fifth pregnancy. I will never forget that termination as long as I live.

My parents and siblings are much happier now that I’m nearly respectable again and I suspect Paul and I will marry one day, which will make them happier still. They really like Paul – who wouldn’t - but we’re in no rush. He has proposed three times but everything is working quite well right now so why force things? Besides, he and Lisa would have to get divorced first and that would take time, money and stress.

If I’m really honest, I still don’t understand what he sees in me, a divorced mother of three nearly ten years older than him. I’ve lost weight over the last year despite the pregnancies and have toned up a lot by running and using the gym but I still wake up many mornings amazed at my good fortune – in that respect at least.

I’m much more confident and pro-active in bed now too. Even living together all this time, we make love almost every day. Paul has taught me a few more tricks and techniques. He says I’m a fast learner which makes me childishly proud. We’ve discovered a few more exciting things together which I’m too embarrassed to put in detail here.

Let’s just say that I never thought I could be ‘that kind of girl’ and feel good about it!

Tom and Lisa tried briefly to live together but they didn’t last the month. Lisa is too ‘free a spirit’ (or Slut as I call her on a bad day) ever to be tied down to one man and although Tom is happy to have affairs himself, as we know he is not happy for his ‘significant other’ to do the same.

The hypocrisy is astounding but that’s my ex for you.

Tom lives in our old house on his own, apart from the various short-term girlfriends he meets on line. He’s getting a lot of casual sex but I don’t think he’s really happy deep down. I do worry about him sometimes but to give him credit, he is doing his bit as far as the kids are concerned and we are civil to each other if no longer close.

Lisa continues to play the field and appears particularly attracted to married men whom she targets mercilessly. To my certain knowledge she has broken up at least two marriages apart from mine and Tom’s and no doubt will leave more destruction behind her as she gets older and more desperate.

And me? Well I live with five children I love – perhaps soon to be six – and with a man nearly ten years younger than me, whom I adore and who adores me. It doesn’t hurt that he’s gorgeous and the best lover I have ever had - better than I ever imagined I would have.

So does this count as a happy ending?

Perhaps it’s more of a beginning.

With a true story like this, you never know!