Why Married and Single Shouldn't Mix

I got a text last night from a guy I haven't heard from for a while. We never met in person, but there was potential at the time or he never would have had my Google Voice number. I didn't even recognize the number; it took me a while to put together who he was.

He's a single guy. Divorced, actually. I know what you're thinking. But Kat, don't you have a rule about no single guys? Well, I used to have that rule, but since I've broken it several times over the years, I now call it a "guideline."

In any event, this single guy texted me last night.  What did he want?  What do you think?  He wanted me to come out to "play."

At 5:30 in the evening.  On Halloween.  After not communicating at all for a long time.

Seriously.

This is a clear example of how married and single folks simply don't mix well together when it comes to the prowling world.

To this single guy, texting someone you haven't talked to for a while to meet for sex is no big deal.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?  To me (a married woman), this is a classic booty call. He might as well have said, "Hey, my blow up sex doll won't inflate properly.  Will you come over and bend over for me?"  Attractive, huh?  Not.

To this single guy, there is nothing unusual about about a booty call at 5:30 p.m.  In my family world, that's when I'm making dinner, checking homework, listening to Hubby tell me about his day, and folding laundry - all at the same time. It's probably the time of day (except for the middle of the night) when my absence would be most conspicuous.

To this single guy, calling for a booty call on Halloween night is not unreasonable. To me, it's the stupidest thing in the world.  I've got kids. This is a children's holiday.  As soon as the dinner rush is over, we head out for trick-or-treat time. Married people know this.  Single guys are oblivious to it.

I understand the attraction that many single men have for married women. We will expect absolutely no long term commitment from them and we will never expect them to marry us.  We're perfect for the commitment-phobic single men of the world....or so they think. What they don't get is that a booty call is not what most of us are looking for.  We're looking for some kind of an emotional connection, too.  To them, even the words "emotional connection" are scary.

They also don't get that a married woman is not going to be available at their beck and call. Satisfying their current sexual need is not high on our priority list. It's probably not on the priority list at all. Family obligations come first, as they should.


This guy never had a chance with me anyway because my heart is firmly in someone else's hands these days, but his approach would have turned me off even if I was crazy horny, dripping wet and seriously in need of a good, hard fucking.

And any man who suggests that a booty call is more important than time with my kids really doesn't get it and deserves to have his number blocked....which is exactly what I did.

Lingering

I come home from seeing you and walk in my front door. I'm met immediately by husband and children, all vying for some attention, each one wanting something, but I'm distracted.  My mind is still with you even though my body is here now. My husband leans in to kiss me, a quick peck on the same lips that were passionately engaged with yours just 30 minutes ago.

I greet everyone quickly, drop my purse and move into the kitchen to start cooking dinner. As I turn into the kitchen, my hair blows in the gentle breeze created by the ceiling fan and I catch a note of your scent. I stop in my tracks and breathe in again, trying to hold you there with me, but it's gone.

I start making dinner, efficient as always, making small talk with my husband and kids as they each wander through for their few minutes of catch-up time with me.

"How was your day?" my husband asks.

"Good.  Yours?"

"It was ok," and then he goes on to tell me about what one of the boys did today and how his lunch went with that friend of ours.

Then he asks, "Anything special happen in your day today?"

Trying not to skip a beat or look up from my task, I reply, "Oh, same old thing.  You know, just lots of work..."

I don't hear the next few things he says because my mind wanders to my time with you this afternoon and the stolen hours we spent making love. I smile as I remember how you whispered, "That's my girl" to me as I came and shuddered in your arms.

I move to the dining room to set the table. As I lean over the table to place the silverware on the far side, I remember how you bent me over the edge of the bed and stood behind me, holding my hips and pulling me back onto you as you fucked me forcefully, almost savagely. I pause for a moment to drink it in, again trying to hold onto the memory for just another few seconds before one of the kids comes running in to show me something, reclaiming me.  As I turn to him, I reflect on how different the scene in our hotel room was from this civilized, family picture.

I shake my head a bit, as if I can shake off the lingering memory of your hands on my body and the sound of your breathing and moaning as you cum.  But I'm not your lover here.  I'm this little one's mom, and that man's wife. I walk back into the kitchen, a little sad as I resign myself to letting go of the pleasure of the afternoon, at least for now.

I finish the dinner and start serving it, calling the boys to the table.  My husband shouts the same instructions he's given every night for the better part of the last two decades - wash your hands, turn off the TV,  no magazines (or iPods) at the table. I finish serving as the last one takes a seat.  I look at the clock as I move to my chair.  Just an hour and a few minutes ago I was with you, completely and totally yours, focused intensely on pleasing you, enjoying you, and being your slut, and now I'm here.  I look around the table and see my boys, all looking at me, waiting for me to sit, and I'm filled with love for them - and gratitude.

As I sit down, my breath catches a little bit as a sweet soreness reminds me of that wonderful, hard ass fucking you gave me just a few minutes before we left each other this afternoon.  We both knew we had to go, but we wanted to connect one last time before your wife and my family pulled us back to our other lives. It was forceful and hurried and fantastic, leaving me with a lingering soreness as a reminder of you.

I smile, and refocus on my family, but I know you're still here, lingering and waiting for me to remember again. I'll hold onto that until I can be with you again.

Kat's Big Surprise (Are You Sitting Down?)

I really didn't think anything could surprise me. Until yesterday.

I was at work dealing with a rather messy legal situation that had sucked all my energy and had put me in a rather foul mood, so I wasn't in the best frame of mind when my husband called and said, "Do you have a minute to talk?" Rather than saying something sarcastic like, "What do you think?" I responded to him as I always do when he asks that questions.  I said, "I'm busy, but I always have time for you, Handsome.  What's up?"

My husband proceeded to tell me that he had just received a call from a woman we know. Let's call her F-ing Bitch, shall we?  That's not her real name, but it's the name I will be using for her from now on. He then proceeded to tell me that F-ing Bitch said she was going to call me and tell me about the sex he'd been having with her for the last several years if he didn't give her a large sum of money. WTF?!

Those of you who have been reading the blog for awhile know that there are several things in his statement that were surprising.  First, he's having sex?  Any sex?  With anyone?  Wow. Second, he's been telling me he's not interested in sex anymore, yet he's been doing her?  Really? Third, she actually thinks that blackmailing him is the best way to get money out of him?

Apparently, after he hung up the phone from talking with her (and telling her that he wasn't going to pay her a dime, by the way), he thought he should call me and tell me about it right away in case she did, in fact, call me.

She didn't.  At least not yet.

I assured him that I loved him and we'd be fine.  We'd work through this.  I told him we would discuss it more when I got home (I knew that would put the fear of God into him for a few hours while he waited for the end of day and worried about what I might say or do).  I hung up the phone, closed my office doors and thought about what I had just heard.

A few weeks ago, in response to a post I wrote on tolerance, a reader posed this question:

"Ok, Kat. Honest Question: what would your reaction be if your husband confessed to you (without knowing you had cheated on him at all) that he had carried on a number of affairs? How would that effect (sic) your feelings for him, and how would that effect (sic) your relationship with him."
My response to him was, "I really don't know."  And that was the truth.  I had no idea how I would feel about it.

As I sat there after talking with my husband, that reader's comment popped into my head, and I thought, well, now I'll find out how I feel about that.  How do I feel about it?

I tried to separate my feelings from my thoughts because I'm such a logically-driven person that sometimes it's hard to know what I'm feeling because my brain takes over in difficult situations and sets about the task of solving the problem before my feelings even know what's going on.  I focused on my feelings.  What was I feeling?  What was I really feeling?

Relief.  Yes, that was it. I was relieved because now I knew that if he found out about me our marriage wouldn't be over.  There would be no lectures or "holier than thou" attitude because we both had cheated. I was also relieved because this meant the door was now open to talk about sex and infidelity and maybe, just maybe, the possibility of an open marriage. It had been killing me not to be able to talk with him about these things, being afraid that he would freak out or worse.

I scanned my feelings for all the things I would be expected to be feeling.  Jealousy?  Nope.  None.  F-ing Bitch meant nothing to me and I know she meant nothing to him. Anger? Some, but I was angry at F-ing Bitch for trying to blackmail him.  I was not angry at him for stepping out. How could I be? Fear? No. I am still 100% certain that he loves me and he won't be leaving me for another woman.  He might fuck others, but he'll always come home to me.  Yes, I'm positive of that. Confusion? Yes, a little bit.  We are two people who both want more sex and we're stepping outside of our marriage to get it.  Why aren't we looking to each other for it?  Why can't we talk about that? I made a mental note that we would be talking about that when I got home from work or some time very soon

Then I felt relief again - relief that this wasn't so bad.  I wasn't devastated.  I wasn't even upset.  Of course, I reminded myself that I might be in shock and some other feelings may surface later, but for now I was OK.

I asked myself the big question - Was I willing to leave him over this? The answer was a resounding, "Hell, no!" I knew I needed to tell him that as soon as possible.

When I walked in the front door at home a couple of hours later, he was sitting on the couch looking like a little boy (o.k., a grey-haired little boy) who was about to be taken out to the woodshed for a whipping. I sat down next to him, took his hand and looked him in the eye. He didn't say anything.  He just looked at me with big puppy dog tears welled up in his eyes. Now I was feeling a few things - compassion, love, sadness, guilt.

The baseball game had just started and was on TV in the background.  I lightened the mood by saying, "Hey!  There's no crying in baseball, remember?" We both laughed a little and some of the color returned to his face.  Better. 

He said, "I don't want you to leave me."

I replied, "I will never leave you, Mr. Kat.  I love you. Are you going to leave me for some bimbo?"

"No!" he replied. "I'm not going anywhere, ever."

"Well then," I said, "Let's not worry about that anymore, ok?"  He nodded his agreement.

Then we started talking about it, and more information came out.  It wasn't one woman; it was a handful of women.  It wasn't for a brief period of time; it was over many years. Yes, he had brought some of them to our home to fuck in our bed while I was at work (ouch!). Yes, he had been supporting a couple of them for a couple of years with the money I earned (another ouch). F-ing Bitch had gone the blackmail route because he had cut off her gravy train.  He stopped giving her money. Yes, I knew all of the women he had been with (triple ouch).

It was a lot to process (ya think???), so we agreed we'd talk about it more the next day.

Later in the evening, when we went to bed, I initiated sex with him. I knew it was an important part of letting him know that I still loved him and wanted him and wasn't going to kick him out. I also decided it was time to focus (again) on some of my own tips from 10 Tips for Wives to Keep Your Husband from Cheating, so I gave him the best BJ I knew how to give and then I fucked him like a woman who had been starving for sex with him (Ok, some acting and fantasizing about JJ were involved, but it worked).

Afterwards, I thought, "Take that, F-ing Bitch. How dare you try to blackmail my family??? And by the way, you've had your last fuck with this man, Sister." I can't wait to see her and share those thoughts with her in person.

I had a chance to chat with DauntlessD about the whole thing, and he suggested that I use the opportunity to ask my husband for an open marriage.  At first I thought, "No way! He'll never go for that and I'm not ready to tell him about my activities yet." But then I thought about it.  Dauntless was right. There would never be a better time than this to have that conversation.

So, I sent my husband a text today around lunch time and asked him if we would join me for lunch so we could talk and continue the conversation we started last night.  I also said that I have an idea I'd like to discuss with him.  He agreed, and we decided on a meeting place.

He walked into the restaurant and looked around for me.  I already had a table and was waiting for him.  I had been rehearsing exactly what I would say and how I would say it.  He sat down across from me and reached over the table to take both my hands in his.

I said, "Honey, I've been thinking and I have an idea......"

Hours 5-16 of My 24 Hour Date with JJ

The air as JJ and I walked out of the spa was cool and refreshing.  We talked about how it was 100 degrees at home, but here it was perfect. Who wanted to go home anyway?  I sure didn’t!

We got into his car and started driving.  Out of Oakland and on the Bay Bridge to San Francisco.  But home is the other way.  Who cares?  We were in no hurry and we were both just enjoying the drive and each other. I guess you could say we took the long way home. It was a perfect day for a drive  – a beautiful sunny California day.  We cruised through Golden Gate Park, then the Presidio.  Then we crossed over the Golden Gate Bridge, and up to Marin before circling back around toward the Valley. 

As we drove, we talked. We talked about our families, our childhoods, our work. On parts of the journey we didn't talk at all; we just looked at the scenery in silence, and that was comfortable, too. Eventually, though, I started to get antsy. I wanted to get to the hotel because there were still so many things I wanted to do with him that were not going to happen in his car.

When we got back to town, it was dinnertime, so we went to the nice restaurant next door to our hotel and shared a meal. We talked some more. Still, nothing felt hurried or rushed.  Then we checked into the hotel and I went to the room while JJ left to take care of some business for an hour or two. 

I welcomed the opportunity to clean up a bit, put on my sexy new black satin and lace nightie, and touch base via text message with my friends DauntlessD and Cara. Dauntless just wanted to know that I was ok and safe and having a good time. Cara, though, wanted details, which I was not prepared to share at the time. Every now and then I'd get a text from JJ letting me know what he was up to and how close he was to being back to the hotel.

I thought time would pass more quickly if I watched the Giants game, but it wasn't on any of the channels the hotel carried.  I thought, seriously? No ballgame? I thought this was a decent hotel...until that moment. I judge hotels by many indicators, including cleanliness, safety, price, check in times, discretion of  front desk staff, accessible back entrances, well hidden parking lots, and, yes, television access to key sporting events.  The lack of the Giants game was just annoying, so I turned off the tv, climbed into bed, and waited for JJ's return.

I didn't have to wait long. JJ let himself in and came over to the bed and kissed me. The room was dimly lit. I had all the lights off except the one in the entryway. 

As we were kissing, I whispered, "Why don't you get out of those clothes?"

In no time at all, he was naked and climbing into bed with me. The first thing he did was wrap his arms around me and pull me close to him as he kissed me. I loved that. In that moment, it was like he was pulling me away from the world and all of its distractions and focusing my attention entirely on him. 

I reached down and found his already hard cock and started stroking him slowly, but firmly, as his hand found its way to my pussy, fingers circling my clit. We lay facing each other, still kissing. I shifted slightly so I could open my legs wider for him and he rewarded me by sliding a finger deep inside me. I gasped and arched my back as his fingertip grazed that special spot inside me. He smiled.

"There it is," he said.

I nodded.

He added another finger and started finger fucking me deeply. I bucked against his hand, conflicted - wanting to tell him I wanted his cock inside me, but not wanting him to stop what he was doing. 

He whispered, "Is my little slut going to cum for me again?"

"Yes," I answered, nodding and gripping his arm as the pleasure built. "Just like that. Please. Like that."

My hips started shuddering and he moved his hand faster, harder. I screamed as I let go, feeling the pulsating pleasure ripple through me.

"I can feel you coming, Baby," he said.

I couldn't respond, except to nod and moan. I closed my eyes and focused on the sensations I was experiencing - his fingers inside me, his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his chest against my breast, the coolness of the room and the warmth of his body and his breath.

As I recovered, he asked, "What do you want now, Kat?"

I love those easy questions.

"I want to feel your cock inside me," I said.

"Oh? How do you want it?" he whispered as he started kissing and sucking on my neck.

He knows I can barely think when he kisses my neck like that, but he does it anyway. Hmmm....

I stammered, "Any way you want it. Anything you want."

He rolled over and rose to his knees. I did the same, leaning on my forearms as he moved behind me. He positioned the head of his cock at the entrance to my tight asshole. Then he moved it down between my pussy lips, then back to my ass again. He playfully moved it back and forth.

"Decisions, decisions," he said.

I giggled. My giggles stopped as he started sliding his cock into my ass. I squealed at first. He paused to give me a moment to adjust, then I took a deep breath and leaned back against him. A satisfied groan escaped his mouth as I pressed all the way back. 

He grabbed my hips and started fucking my ass slowly at first, then faster.  

"Oh my god, that feels so good," I murmered. "Yes, Fuck my ass, Baby.. Fuck your slut hard, just like I need it."

JJ responded exactly as I expected. He pounded me hard while I squeezed his cock as hard as I could, holding on to the edge of the bed to keep myself from being pushed into the wall in front of me. I heard him moan and felt him tighten his fingers on my skin. He came in a series of three slow, forceful, final thrusts. He held me back against him for about 15 seconds after the last thrust, before leaning forward and kissing my back, then my neck. 

He collapsed next to me and I curled up in his arms again. We talked and kissed and made love a couple more times over the next couple of hours before falling asleep in each other's arms.

I woke up a few hours later. JJ was sleeping on his side, facing away from me, so I snuggled up behind him and breathed in his scent. That same scent would lightly linger in my hair, on my skin, and my clothes as a reminder of him after we parted. I breathed him in again and thought about how I would be at home with my husband and kids doing something quite mundane - like making dinner or washing dishes - when that scent would barely brush by me, and my body would respond as if he were there. My nipples would harden and I'd feel my panties grow damp. I'd close my eyes, taking a break from whatever I was doing for just a moment, and picture him there with me again, touching me as only he could. And so I'd be reminded of him until I opened my eyes again and came back to the present moment.

But at that moment, I was listening to him breathe as he slept, and I started kissing his back and neck gently and reaching my hand around to stroke him and feel his cock awake slowly before the rest of him. 

As he started to stir into consciousness, I turned onto my side, facing away from him, and he rolled over and followed me, wrapping his arms around me and pressing against my back.  He rubbed his hardness against me, and I arched my back and shifted so he could access whichever hole he wanted. He slid his cock between my pussy lips first a few times, and I thought he might just cum there without entering me, but after a minute or so, he pulled his cock back and then slowly slid it into my ass. We moved together slowly, lazily. No words were spoken. Soon he moved his arm down around my hips and held me back onto him as he finished with a flurry of quick thrusts. Then he moaned and kissed my shoulder. 

Moments later, I heard his breathing become even again as he drifted back to sleep, his arms still tight around me.

DauntlessD Meets Hubby

In my post, When Worlds Collide, I shared how difficult it can be sometimes to keep my Kat world separate from my more respectable world. Well, today those two worlds came face to face, shook hands, and introduced themselves to each other, in a manner of speaking.

DauntlessD met Hubby.

First, let me back up for a moment and tell you who DauntlessD is (for those of you who don't already know). I met DauntlessD (let's just call him D, for short, shall we?) on Ashley Madison 6 or 7 months ago. Yes, our relationship started out as most others on AM do - flirting, getting to know each other, meeting - but it quickly developed into a wonderfully supportive friendship. D describes it better than I do in his post, Prowling Friendships.

Because there is no hanky panky going on, and because we've become such good friends, there shouldn't be a problem going public with the friendship, right?  Wrong.  How we met remained  a difficult point.  I can just imagine it now....."Hubby, this is D.  I met him on Ashley Madison while I was looking for an affair and some hot sex, but D and I are friends and we're not having sex so it's ok, right?"  Uh......no.

So, we had to find a way to bring D into my respectable world in a way that would a) make Hubby feel comfortable with him, b) provide an acceptable excuse for him to be around from time to time, and c) provide an acceptable excuse for me to be texting and emailing him.  We figured it out (I'd tell you the secret, but then I may have to kill you) and today was D-day, the day to launch the plan and arrange for Hubby and  D to casually meet. It was set up to happen at my office.

I looked out my window and saw Hubby walking up the parking lot toward the back door. Hubby walked in and stepped into the office and the first desk he saw was one where D was sitting. I held my breath.

Then I heard:

Hubby: Hi, I'm Hubby (he used his real name, of course), Kat's husband.

D:  I'm D (doesn't he have a great way with words?)

Hubby: Kat said you'd be here today and that you'd be coming around from time to time.  Nice to meet you.

Then the conversation continued for another few seconds, but I couldn't hear what was said. I exhaled, before I passed out, and Hubby came directly into my office with some mail. We shared a little small talk, and he went about his business.

A little while later, D and I snuck out (separately, of course, and five minutes apart) and met for lunch.

Score! We did it! We successfully brought the two worlds together without me having a heart attack, and now our friendship is a little bit closer to being fully out of the closet, so to speak.

As first time AM meetings go, I thought this one was pretty successful, don't you?

A Note To My Husband

I got out  of bed late last night and wrote a note* to my husband.  I was so very frustrated and I had to express it somehow.  Ok, so I probably won't ever give him the note, but writing it was therapeutic in some ways.  I asked him for sex three times yesterday and was turned down flat each time. I was angry, frustrated, humiliated. To give you some context for the note (that I'll share below), here's what happened yesterday:

Attempt #1 (in bed at 7:30 a.m.):

Kat: (after giving Hubby 3/4 of an awesome edging blow job) Mmmm...how 'bout letting me ride you now, Honey?

Hubby:  (putting his hard dick back in Kat's mouth and pushing her head down on it again) No, this is great.  Just finish me.

Attempt #2 (on the living room couch at about 1:15 p.m. with the kids occupied in the other room for the next 30 minutes):

Kat: (curling up next to Hubby on the couch and kissing his neck seductively) I am really craving a nice (kiss)...hard (ear nibble)...ass fucking, Honey. How about going back to the bedroom with me for a few minutes while the kids are occupied?

Hubby: Now?  But the ball game is about to start.  We can do that later. Did you make the popcorn yet?

Attempt #3 (in bed at 10:00 p.m.):

Kat: (in bed naked, snuggling up next to hubby, who's wearing sweats and pajamas, as if this were Siberia in the winter) Well, we have lots of time now (kiss...hand wandering down to his waist, trying to find a way in)....What do you think we could do now?

Hubby:  Jeez, Kat!  Don't you think of anything besides sex? It's late, ya know.

Kat (turning onto her other side, away from Hubby, trying not to sound too upset or disappointed):  Sorry, Honey.  Goodnight.

I laid there, unable to sleep for a few hours, trying to deal with all the swirling feelings. Then I got up, went into the other room, and wrote this note:

"Dear Hubby,

You asked if I ever think of anything besides sex.  As a matter of fact, I do.  I think about earning a living, paying the bills, raising our children, grocery shopping, cleaning, taxes, laundry, PTA meetings, getting the car serviced, scheduling a parent-teacher conference, dinner menus for the week, scheduling play dates for our youngest, ironing, cooking, getting the cat her shots, communicating with extended family members, my annual check up, your health, keeping you happy, keeping the kids happy, keeping the neighbors happy, keeping my employees happy, keeping my clients happy, keeping my honey-on-the-side happy, and occasionally, I'll think about finding some time to read. After almost 25 years of marriage, I'd think you would know I'm constantly thinking about things besides sex.

But here's the deal - The need for sex is like a constant undertone vibrating through me at all times.  It's the background noise going on while I'm thinking about all those other things. Sometimes it's a quiet nudging, but if it has been a while it becomes a loud, demanding and distracting roar.  Still, I keep thinking about all those other things and ignoring it to the best of my ability, but it's always there. It's never completely gone.  Sometimes, I'm a little bit wet and wishing I could get some relief and other times I'm so horny I can barely breathe.

It's not my fault that I've been blessed with some pretty strong perimenopausal hormones that keep that undertone of sexual desire going strong.  It's also not my fault that your libido has decreased to almost nothing and that whatever is left is 100% focused on you.

Would it kill you to at least pretend that you care enough to acknowledge that this is a real need of mine and not just something I'm making up because I'm selfish? Do you think you could manage not treating me like a deviant or a freak because I want to have sex more than once a month? Do you have any idea - even a remote one - how painful your rejection is to me? Do you understand how your constant rejection makes me feel undesirable, unattractive, and old?

Do you understand that each time you reject me, I feel a little less guilty about fucking around behind your back? Do you get that each time you push me away, you are actually pushing me into some other man's bed?

Well, I thought you may want to know.

Your loving wife,
Kat"

* For obvious reasons, I never gave hubby the note, but there are times when my frustration level gets so high that I really, really wish I could.

Can anyone else relate to this? Please, tell me I'm not alone.

Prowling Friendships

My previous blog posts were requested by Kat, but now it is time for me to take the training wheels off and post something on my own.

Roughly six months ago I began reflecting on my life and discovered I was bored; just flat tired of the drudgery of the same old routine. Also due to some of life's curve-balls I was discontent and more socially isolated than I liked. Quietly I began looking for some relief to these problems and found Ashley Madison.

On the outset sex seemed to be the primary objective; that is what Ashley Madison is for right? In the end, Ashley Madison gave me something completely unexpected.

So how did I come to be Prowling with Kat? Well that story in and of it self is rather typical, married boy creates account on Ashley Madison and meets married girl. What is not typical, the part that is truly unique, is the relationship that has grown between me and Kat. We have become fast friends, partners in crime, and confidants. Our differences are as striking as the ways we compliment, support and encourage one another.

Our assumption has been that spawning a friendship like ours from Ashley Madison is rare, but maybe we are wrong. What do you think? Anyone out there have a similar story?

When Worlds Collide

As you might have guessed, my real name isn't Kat and most of the people in my real life don't know anything about this blog or my prowling ways.  In fact, I'm quite the picture of respectability - business owner, soccer mom, churchgoer, pillar of the community. I contribute to bake sales, I chaperon school field trips, and I work a board room better than most. To paraphrase a famous song - I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and never let my husband forget who's the man.

I think I'm pretty good at keeping my worlds separate, but every now and then the boundaries get a bit muddled.  I have one very good friend from my prowling world who has crossed over to be a true friend in my real life. And I have a friend from my respectable life who knows all about Kat and my adventures (well, not all of my adventures, but many; some secrets are shared with no one...ever). These two wonderful people provide just enough connection between my two worlds to keep me from feeling schizophrenic.

But every now and then, someone in my respectable world comes dangerously close to my prowling world, and I have to make a decision. Quickly deflect, change the subject, and hope they missed it? Or trust them and let them in on my secret? Well, that second option is just stupid, since I want to stay married, so I always default to the first choice and I start talking around the issues until we're talking about sports or the new line of Coach purses.

The real problem comes up, though, when there is someone in my respectable life who I want to pull into my prowling world. It happened to me today. I was having an impromptu lunch with a man I have known and loved as a friend for years. In fact, he was a friend of my husband's before he was my friend.  Yes, I can see the flashing red lights and sirens telling me to step away from the danger zone, but this man draws me to that danger zone. Now, I just said I love him as a friend, and that's the truth. Have I ever thought about more than that?  Heck yeah!  But all of the rules of respectability say not to go there...and he's made it clear in the past that he's not interested. Doesn't get much clearer than that, right?

Today, though, I was tempted to just tell him about my prowling secret, but I didn't, of course.   Then, later on, he was using my phone to check his email and my Kat email came up instead.  Ack! So, I told him quickly about the blog. No details. No URL.  Just the name, and that it's a sex blog, and then the subject change. It was a clumsy combination of the two options above - not a full deflection, but not full trust or disclosure, either.

It's official.  I'm an idiot. 

What good does it do me to expend all the energy I have for years to keep my two worlds separate if I'm just going to blow it by saying too much to one off-limits guy I've had a crush on for years? And when I say "saying too much," I'm talking about showing a glimpse of my prowling world through the lens of the blog.  The identity of my honey-on-the-side would never be revealed, along with a bunch of other secrets.  I'm actually a very good secret-keeper.

Also, don't get me wrong, I really do cherish this guy's friendship. He's easy to talk to and we can really relate to each other on many levels (I'm talking about all the respectable levels. Get your minds out of the gutter, Prowlers.). Unfortunately, we can't really pursue our friendship as we would have liked because, well, that just wouldn't be proper.

Not only is he off-limits, but I'm very happy (very, very happy in fact) with my current honey-on-the-side.  He gives me exactly what I'm looking for and more.

Remembering that gives me added incentive to keep the two worlds separate so I can continue to enjoy him for a long, long time.

Is it ok to Cheat on Your Wedding Anniversary?

I had an intimate conversation with my friend M today Yes, that's the same M from Starbucks with Cream. His wedding anniversary is this week and, like a good husband, he's planning to take his wife out to dinner for their anniversary.  He also has a card and a gift for her.  Very sweet, huh?

However, earlier in the day on his anniversary, he's planning to meet his mistress in a hotel room for some naughty sex.

What do you think about that?  Should your wedding anniversary be off limits for hot and nasty sex with someone else, or is it fair game?

I told M I'd ask my fellow Prowlers for their opinion on this issue.  I don't think you'll change his opinion of the matter, but I'll pass on the results to his honey.  So, what do you say?

Top Posts from the Past Week

Here are the most popular Prowling with Kat posts for the last 7 days. Some are new this week and others are oldies but goodies. If you missed any, now's your chance to take a look. And there's still time to post a comment or two.  Go ahead.  You know you want to. ;-)

What Women Really Want in Bed

The Contender - Another Naughty Adventure

Kat's Back!

Delicious irony - A Naughty Fisting Story

Why Kat Prowls

Kat's Rules of Webcam Etiquette

Lying and Cheating

I hate lying.  In fact, I am really a pretty honest person.  Ok, you can stop laughing now.  I know it sounds strange to say I am an honest person when the act of prowling like I do is inherently dishonest, but this is one of the strange contradictions of the prowling lifestyle.  Can you love your spouse and still have sex with (or, God forbid, love) someone else?  Sure you can.  Can you be a basically honest person while lying to your spouse just about every day to hide your extramarital activities?

The other evening, I was sitting on the couch next to my husband while I was text chatting on my mobile phone with my honey-on-the-side. When my husband asked who I was chatting with, I said, "A friend." He was satisfied with that answer at the time, but I was prepared with an alternative, if necessary. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth, of course. The whole truth would have been something like, "A friend whose cock I really wish I were sucking right now." He doesn't need to hear the whole truth, does he? I don't think so.

This doesn't mean that I'm comfortable lying to my husband because I'm not.  Once my husband asked where I was right after I returned from a rendezvous. I had my story prepared and it rolled of my tongue easily and casually. I felt a stabbing pang of guilt, not because of the cheating, but because of the lying. In fact, I would like nothing better than to be able to tell him the truth and for him to be ok with it, but I know he wouldn't be.  I know he would be very hurt, and I don't want to hurt him. For those of you thinking, "Well, if you don't want to hurt him, you should just stop what you're doing," you should read my post Why Kat Prowls.

I've also heard people say that infidelity automatically weakens a marriage, even if it is never discovered, precisely because of the dishonesty. I disagree.  I'm sure that this may be the case for some people, but it's not my story.  I have been married for approaching 25 years to a wonderful man I love very much. I have been prowling, on and off, for about 14 of those years. My husband is happy.  He gets all the sex he wants (which isn't much) and so do I (which is a lot). The only secrets I keep from him are those related to my extramarital sexual activity. We share everything else.

I've known men whose marriages actually got better after having an affair because it took the pressure off the sex argument at home and they could really start appreciating their wives again. Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but wake up.  Life is not black and white. I'm not arguing that infidelity is right or moral, simply that it doesn't have to mean the end of a marriage.

I don't pretend to have all of the answers. If I did, maybe I would have found a way to get all of my sexual and relationship needs met within the context of my marriage, but I haven't.

I still hate the lying, but I'm hoping to meet my honey-on-the-side this week or next week for some incredibly satisfying sex and I'll lie again if I have to.

So, back to the question I posed at the beginning of this post.  What do you think? Can you be a basically honest person while lying to your spouse to hide your extramarital activities?

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10 Tips for Cheating on Your Spouse

Last month, I shared my top 10 rules for cheating and my advice for prowling men, but I still get questions about the logistics of cheating so I thought I would offer some tips.

Tip #1:  If you haven't cheated yet, don't. This is a message you really can't miss if you have been reading this blog for more than 5 minutes. Once you have crossed the line of infidelity, it's easy to do it again and again and again. The easiest way to avoid becoming a chronic cheater (which is very, very risky to your marriage) is not to start.  I know this is a very strange tip for cheaters, but I had to say it.

Tip #2: Keep an eye on your routine.  One of the biggest giveaways of a cheating spouse is a change in routine.  Most people are creatures of habit and they have a really hard time changing their routines even if they want to.  If you suddenly start changing your routine without a word, it's a red flag.

Tip #3: Start building time into your schedule before you start cheating.  Face it.  Cheating takes time.  You'll need to build some time into your schedule for it, but it can't be a sudden change in routine, so start building some time into your routine now.  Start going to the gym or take a class.  Start a hobby.  In the early days of this, invite your spouse along so it's clear that it's legitimate.

Tip #4: Get a separate e-mail account.  Open a separate email account for your extramarital activities.  Use an easily hidden gmail or yahoo account and don't use your real name when you set up the account so it won't show to your email recipients.

Tip #5 : Consider getting a Google phone number for phone chatting and texting or get another cell phone.  Remember, there will be a record of all phone calls and texts if you use your own cell phone. If the bill is sent to your house, even if you are the one who usually handles the bills, you would be stupid to use that phone for your prowling.  There are risks to getting another phone, too, but that's a little safer.

Tip #6: Pay attention to how much time you spend online.  You will be tempted to spend more time online chatting emailing with you new sweetie, but be very careful about this. Like a sudden change in routine, this is one of the biggest tells of a cheater. Force yourself to limit your online time or only go online when your spouse is not around.

Tip #7: Watch out for the laundry.  If you are the one who typically does the laundry, great.  Get those naughty clothes in the washer as soon as you get back from a rendezvous.  If not, you need to find a way to deal with the laundry. Yes, there is a smell of sex, and even women who don't wear perfume often leave a distinctive scent of feminine shampoos, soaps, lotions, etc. By the way, if your new conquest is new to cheating, ask her not to wear perfume.  She may not even think about it because applying perfume becomes a routine for many women.

Tip #8: Get a pre-paid credit card.  I've mentioned this before.  If you use one of your personal credit cards, you run a risk of getting caught.  While you're at it, if you're serious about this, you'll also get a private P.O. box for mail. That's the address you give to hotel clerks who insist on having a mailing address.  You don't want an unexpected bill or a "Thank You for Your Stay" postcard delivered to your house, do you?

Tip #9: Don't stop having sex (or attempting to have sex) with your spouse.  Ok, you may be getting awesome sex regularly somewhere else now, but that doesn't mean you should stop developing intimacy with your spouse.  Trust me, she will notice, and she will think something is wrong.  Then she'll start paying attention to your behavior and every word you say, and that won't be good for your extramarital activities.

Tip #10: Be fully present with your family when you are with them. Assuming that you love your family and you want to stay married (which is exactly the assumption I make), you need to give your family as much of yourself as possible when you are with them.  Watch out for daydreaming or sneaking away to chat or email (see tip #6) or running out on time with your kids just so you can grab a quick phone chat with your new honey. Be a decent husband and father (or wife and mother).  While your fun on the side may be pretty exciting, don't forget what is most important in your life.

There are many more tips to share, so watch future posts for an ongoing list.

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Wrong Number, Right Man - Epilogue

My adventures with Adam didn't end with our first meeting (To catch up, read Wrong Number, Right Man - Part 1 and Wrong Number, Right Man - Part 2.) He continued to call every Saturday afternoon for the next several months.  Sometimes we would just chat for 30 minutes or so, and sometimes he would tell me to meet him at our spot at the river for some naughtier fun.

Then one week, for no reason that I know of, the Saturday afternoon call didn't come. The next week there was no call either.  Or the next week. Or the next.  It was about a month before I stopped arranging my Saturdays make sure I was home for his call.

I fully expected never to see or hear from him again, but one hot August day three years ago I was at the fair with my family. We were back in the livestock area so my youngest could see the animals when I heard that familiar, unmistakable voice.  I turned around in time to see him lifting and moving a bale of hay, talking to his teenage son. The beard was gone, but he looked much the same except for that. He was there with his two boys and his wife, who was pushing a stroller with a toddler in it.  Apparently, we both had added a child to our families since we last saw each other. His wife was a beautiful woman, much prettier than me, with long blond hair, a gorgeous figure, and green eyes that matched his.

He must have seen me while I was admiring his wife because I heard, "Can that be Kat?" I turned and caught his eye and we smiled at each other as everyone in both families looked at me.

"Long time, no see," I said.

He excused himself from his family for a moment and came over to the side of barn where I was standing with my husband and kids.  He put his hand out to shake my husband's hand firmly and he introduced himself. "I'm Adam.  Kat and I have done fundraising work together."  I marveled at how smooth he was.  Clearly he had practiced this or he had done it before.  Could anybody just be that smooth and lie so easily naturally? After some introductions and polite niceties, he returned to his family.

I tried to pretend I was really interested in those animals as my youngest asked question after question about them. A few minutes later, I saw Adam put one arm around his wife and grab the stroller with the other hand, and start to leave the barn.  He stopped and paused for a moment, and then he turned and said, "Hey Kat! I'll give you a call next Saturday." And then he was gone.

The following Saturday, at a very familiar time, the phone rang. By this time, we had caller ID and I recognized the number and answered quickly. I heard his deep, sexy voice say, "Well, hello, ma'am. Is Joe available?"

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I'd love to be able to tell you that our affair picked up right where it had left off, but that's not the case.  I had taken a break from prowling, and I was trying very hard to be faithful to my husband for several years (you all know how that worked out, but hey, I tried).  Adam and I enjoyed several nice Saturday phone calls over the next year, including some pretty hot phone sex, but by the following summer we had drifted apart.  I haven't spoken with him since then.

I remember him fondly, though, whenever I drive by the river and whenever I get a wrong number phone call.  Sometimes the wrong number is exactly the right number.

Wrong Number, Right Man (Part 2) - A Naughty Adventure

My mind was spinning as I was driving to the park. Here I was driving to a local park to meet someone I didn't know except for the little bit I'd learned about him from 8 or 9 phone conversations.  As I drove, I replayed in my mind how a wrong number phone call became a rushed and excited  trip to a park to meet someone I had never met before.  That's when I realized that I was not exactly dressed for a first meeting.

I was wearing navy blue sweatpants and a light blue tank top.  My hair was pulled up in the back with a claw clip, which I grabbed and pulled out, fluffing my hair, trying to look less like a dowdy middle-aged wife and mom, but knowing that a little hair fluff couldn't do that trick. I decided not to look in the rear view mirror or my nervousness would become panic and I probably wouldn't go through with it.

I arrived at the park and found a parking space.  I scanned the parking lot, looking for anyone in a car or standing near a car.  Nothing. I turned off the car and waited for a moment. Then I took a deep breath and got out of the car. I looked around.  There were some kids playing, some families.  There's no way I could have arrived before him, is there? I decided to just lean against the car and wait. I watched cars come and go. After about 10 minutes, I started wondering if I should just go.

I heard a truck door slam shut across the street behind me.  I looked over my shoulder and saw a man looking right at me and walking straight toward me.  He was between 5'10" and 6' tall, and he walked with a very confident gait. He was wearing jeans, a green t-shirt, tennis shoes; nothing special, but I could see that he was muscular - broad shoulders, strong arms, a little bit of a tummy (good, I thought, at least he's not perfect). His full beard was carefully manicured and, as he got closer, I could see the tiny bits of grey poking through it. Otherwise, it matched his auburn hair perfectly. I guessed he must have been in his mid-40's. How funny, I though to myself, that I never asked his age.

And that smile.  And his green eyes.  Wow. Yes, I think they actually twinkled.  Then he spoke, and I would have recognized that voice anywhere. "You must be sweet Kat," he said. He hugged me - a decent, respectful hug, entirely suitable for public, except for the fact that it lingered a few seconds too long.  As we hugged, I said, "I sure hope you're Joe." He laughed and whispered in my ear, "My name is Adam, but you can call me Joe as long as you want." He kissed my cheek before he pulled away, and he kept his hand on my waist while he continued to talk, standing just a little closer that he should have given the fact that we were at a park in broad daylight just two miles from my house.

"Let's get out of here," he suggested. "We can head down to the river and find a nice place to talk for a bit."

I told him that I was supposed to be running quickly to the grocery store, and that I should get home soon. He said I could call home with another excuse while he was getting something out of his truck. I can't even remember the excuse I gave my husband, but it was good enough to keep me out of the house for another couple of hours.  I couldn't keep my eyes off of Joe...uh.. Adam as he walked.

He grabbed a blanket from the cab of his truck and came back across the street. He suggested we take my car because he knew I'd probably feel more comfortable that way.  He was right, so we got in the car and he directed me where to drive.  As I was driving, he rested his hand gently on my thigh. 

It didn't take long for us to get to a secluded turnoff right off the river road. I made a mental note of the fact that you wouldn't be able to find this place unless you knew about it, so he must have been here before. As if he knew what I was thinking, he said, "I bring my boys here to fish. They like to think of it as our secret hideaway," and he flashed one of those million dollar smiles. I was pretty sure he had been here with someone other than his kids and that he did more than fish here, but I didn't care.

I pulled up close to the river, behind a row of trees.  He got out of the car and spread out the blanket in front of the car, so we wouldn't be seen from the road, which would have been pretty difficult anyway due to all the trees and shrubbery. Then he took my hand and we sat down on the blanket. We kicked off our shoes and started talking.  Surprisingly, it wasn't awkward at all.  We had done so much talking over the last 8 weeks that it felt completely natural to just chit chat about nothing for a few minutes. He asked me a question about a some home improvement project I had been working on for several weeks, and while I was answering, he leaned over and kissed me.

It was one of those deep, wet kisses that starts off gently but quickly becomes forceful and urgent - my favorite kind, to tell the truth.  How could he know that? In no time at all, he had my tank top and bra off, and one hand was exploring my breasts while the other was in my panties. He slid a finger inside me before I could protest, although at that point I knew I wouldn't have tried to stop him. He pushed his finger deep inside, then another, and another.  I moaned.

"My, you're a very wet naughty Kat, aren't you?' he said.  That charming southern drawl I was so used to had taken on an authoritative tone.  I nodded my head and said, "Yes." He wasn't smiling anymore; instead, he was staring intently into my eyes. My breathing was shallow. I started rocking ever so slightly against his hand. Then he pulled his hand out of me and stood up, and snapped, "Take off your pants and panties and get on your hands and knees." It didn't occur to me not to do exactly what he said.  I shimmied out of my pants and watched him pull of his t-shirt and jeans. His cock was nice and hard, about 7 inches, very thick, and curved just a little bit toward his belly.  I smiled and rolled quickly onto my hands and knees.

I expected him to get behind me and fuck me, but he didn't.  He knelt next to me and ran his hands all over me, touching me everywhere.  He pinched my nipples hard.  I whimpered, but he didn't stop until I bit my lip and became silent. He murmured, "Very nice," and then he moved in front of me and put his cock in my mouth. He didn't let me suck it as I wanted to. Instead, he grabbed my hair and just started pushing my head onto him, making me take him deep into my throat, and then pulling my head back, all the way off his cock - completely in and out on each stroke, lingering with the head in my throat for just a second before pulling back.

Just as I felt his cock start throbbing, hardening, close to coming, he stopped and pulled it out of my mouth.  He slapped my face (not hard, but not gently either), and said, "Turn around." I gasped, shocked at the blow, but not offended by it at all. I moved quickly, turning around and lifting my bottom to him.

He grabbed my hips and slid his cock slowly inside me.  I pressed back against him, arched my back, and closed my eyes, trying to focus on every sensation - the sweetness of the cool breeze off the river, the rustling sound of the wind in the trees, the hardness of the ground under my knees, the softness of the blanket, the fullness of my cunt, the pressure of his hands on my hips pulling me back onto him, the soft grunting noise he made with each stroke. Soon, I became distracted from all of the external things as I became more and more excited. With each stroke he hit just the right spot, and I started to moan and buck against him harder and harder.

Suddenly, he reached forward, wrapped his arms around me and knelt back on his heels, pulling me back with him so I was fully impaled on his cock. He whispered in my ear, "Show me how naughty you are, Kat," and then he started biting my neck. I bounced up and down on him, rocking my hips forward and back. I came quickly....he pinched my nipples as I came, making me squeal and writhe in his arms.  Then he pushed me  forward unto my hands and knees again, grabbed my hips, and fucked me very hard, lifting my knees off the ground with each thrust.  I tried to steady myself, but there was nothing to hold on to, so I fell forward onto my chest. His guttural moan as he came was primal, animal-like, unlike any I had heard.

He held me on him, my knees off the ground, for what seemed like a long time. When he released me, he gently lowered me onto the blanket - the gentleness seemed strangely inconsistent with the rest of what had just happened. After a few moments of laying on the blanket in silence, he got up and tossed me my pants and top. "Get dressed," he said, "but you won't need these."  He was still holding my bra and panties. I scrambled to get dressed as he slid into his jeans.  My knees were weak, but he seemed totally unaffected.

I searched for the car keys.  He folded the blanket and then wrapped an arm around me and kissed me deeply again. "Sweet, sweet Kat," he said, back to the charming tone and accent I recognized.  I reached down to pick up my bra and panties that he had tossed on the ground, but he snapped, "No.  I said you won't be needing those." Confused, I stepped away from them and headed toward the car door. He continued, "I don't want to see you in bra and panties again.  Do you understand?"  I nodded to indicate that I did.

We drove back to the park.  He made more small talk. I could feel his juices leaking out of me, moistening my pants.

When we got back to the park, I pulled up behind his truck on the street. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, and got out of the car.  Before he closed the car door, he leaned over, smiled, and said, "Talk to ya next Saturday, Hon."

Wrong Number, Right Man (Part 1) - A Naughty Adventure

I had just turned 38 and had started prowling again recently. I hadn't planned on prowling.  In fact, it had been several years since my last time, but something had changed with me physically. Without explanation, some hormonal switch had been flipped and I was craving sex all the time.  Yes, all the time.  That's not an exaggeration.  O.k., maybe not while I was sleeping, but you know what I mean.  On top of that, my husband was being a real jerk, and he had been for the last six months, so it was pretty easy to jump on AOL and find a friend or two to take my mind of the asshole I was living with and satisfy the new urges I was experiencing.

One Saturday afternoon, I was home alone (hubby and the kids were out at a regular Saturday afternoon activity) and the phone rang.  I answered, and heard the sexiest voice I had heard in a long, long time say, very slowly with a deep southern drawl, "Well, hello, ma'am. Is Joe available?" Normally, I would reply "Sorry, there's no Joe here" and get back to my chores, but this time I couldn't resist saying, "I really wish he were available, but he's not.  In fact, no one named Joe lives here. I knew someone named Joe once, though.  Is that good enough?"

The part of me that hadn't yet melted at his hello was left smiling and moistening from his reply, "Well, that depends, ma'am. Do you think you can help me?  You certainly sound like you can."  This might be a good place to mention that I've been told I have quite a sexy and seductive voice. Mr. Wrong Number clearly agreed.

"How can I help you, Sir?" I asked.

"Oh, I can think of a dozen ways, ma'am, but can you tell me what number I dialed?  I certainly want to make sure I dial this number again." FYI - For you young folks, caller ID was not as ubiquitous 8 years ago as it is now.  You actually had to ask for someone's phone number. I know, crazy, huh?

After going back and forth a few times, it became clear that he was only off by one number.  Now he had my home phone number, and I started to get nervous, so I tried to end the conversation. "I need to run.  I'm sorry this isn't the number you were looking for.  Good luck finding Joe," I said.

"Oh," he replied. "I think this is exactly the number I was looking for....uh....may I ask your name, ma'am?"

Against my better judgement (heck, everything I do in my prowling seems to be against my better judgement), I told him the truth - my real name.  "My name is Kat.  What's your name?"

"You can call me.....Joe," he replied.  I laughed. And then he asked, "Is there a Mr. Kat?"  That's always a moment of truth. I could lie and keep the little flirtation going, or shut it down quickly with my standard, honest response. Because I believe that honesty is always the best policy (except with my husband, of course, silly), I said, "Yes, there is, indeed, a Mr. Kat.  Is there a Mrs. Joe?"

"Why yes there is," he said. Ok, where does this conversation go from here? He moved right ahead with, "Would you mind if I called this very right number again sometime, Kat?"

"Sure, Joe.  Anytime," I purred in my sexiest voice, just for effect. Fat chance. The odds that this guy would ever call back were slim to none, especially since we just established that we were both married.  Seriously, this wasn't AOL or some phone chat line.  This was a stranger encounter.  Those rarely turn into anything.  We said our goodbyes, and that was that.  Well, not exactly.  I did have a very nice orgasm later remembering his sexy voice and imagining the man behind it, but I expected that would be it.

Then, the following Saturday afternoon at about the same time, he called again.  I answered the phone, and he said, "I've missed ya, Kat" in that unbelievable voice. We had a lovely 30 minute chat about life, work, and family - all without giving any real identifiable information. Then it was over.

Joe called again every Saturday at the same time for the next 8 weeks, each conversation becoming a bit more intimate until we finally had our first session of phone sex. I'll write about it separately because it absolutely deserves its own post, but I can tell you now that the good Lord gave that man that incredibly sexy voice for a reason, and I had just learned what that reason was. Oh my, my, my......   After I had come twice, he said, "Well, sweet Kat, it has been 30 minutes and I have to go, but I can't wait to hear you come again."  WTF?! I thought, what is this, a timed therapy session? Oh well, it was nice.  Now that I knew we had a 30 minute limit, I'd have to work a little faster to get the most out of this guy.

The next Saturday, hubby and the kids didn't go out like they always did.  As the time approached for my regular call with Joe, I got more and more nervous.  Now I was kicking myself for not getting his phone number so I could slip into another room and warn him not to call. I tried several ruses to get hubby out of the house.  I failed at all of them. Then, at precisely the appointed time, the phone rang....and hubby answered.  My heart stopped.

My husband said, "Hello?".  Then a pause.  Then he said, "Sure, she's right here," and he handed me the phone. "It's some guy named Joe," he said, and then he went right back to watching TV. I took the phone and tried to sound like I didn't know who it was, "Hello?"

"Well, well, Kat," he said slowly. "I guess you can't chat this afternoon."

"No, I'm sorry, " I said. "I won't be able to help you with that this time."

Then he said, "Meet me at the park on Washington and 5th in 10 minutes,"  and then he hung up.

I was stunned. I fumbled to end the conversation that had already ended, "Sure. Maybe next year.  Good luck. Goodbye."  My husband looked at me quizzically. I rolled my eyes and said, "Little League needs a fundraising chair again." He said, "Heck, you don't have time for that, Kat. I'm glad you said no."

I stepped into the kitchen to collect myself.  Should I go?  I don't even know this guy. Sure he has a great voice, but he could be an axe murder or a rapist...... However, it's a public place.  What could go wrong?

Without another thought, I grabbed my purse and my keys, took the curry powder from the shelf and shoved it in my purse, and headed to the front door. I looked over my shoulder as I was leaving to tell my husband, "I need some curry powder for dinner.  I'll be back in a few minutes."

I got in the car and drove.

Who would I find at the park on Washington and 5th?  We had never talked about appearance.  Would I recognize him?  Would he recognize me? Was I crazy to be doing this? Oh, that question was easy to answer.  This was insane, but I kept driving anyway.

To be continued......

Just the Sex, Please

I have heard from some of the hornier of my prowling friends that they want an easy way to find the sex posts.  Apparently, the advice and other stuff is just too tame for some of you horn dogs. So, I'll get those posts listed separately on the side bar soon.  Until then, here's a short list of our naughtier posts for your leisure enjoyment.

My First Affair - Our First Meeting

The Best Sex of My Life

Teaching a Young One

Afternoon Fun in a Honda Civic

TSA Foreplay at the Airport

J's Version of His First Time with Kat

Delicious Irony - A Naughty Fisting Story

Soon, I'll post links to some of my favorite naughty stories on some of my other favorite sex blogs.

Never fear, horny Prowlers, I'll make sure you get enough to keep your imagination hot and juicy!

Breaking My Own Rules?

As you know, fellow Prowlers, I have my own set of rules for my extramarital activities. Basically, I like a semblance of order in my life, and these rules help me maintain some control in an area of my life that can quickly and easily fly out of control.

I got a DM on Twitter yesterday, followed by some email and a couple of photos, from a rather intriguing man. He said a couple of things that instantly grabbed my attention and separated him from the hundreds of other random DMs and emails I get, most of which use the worst pickup lines imaginable. No, I'm not going to tell you what he said that got me wet...uh...I mean...got my attention. You'll have to expend a little of your own creative effort.

Anyway, his DMs made me smile.  I replied.  His response made me chuckle.  Back and forth it went briefly a few times. Good clean fun.  Well, maybe not squeaky clean, but clean enough. Then the photos came.  Nice, very nice.

Then it materialized.  One word. One simple word that made me start to wonder if I would ever get to run my hands along those strong broad shoulders and feel those lips sucking on my clit until I screamed. One word that smacked me back into reality.

What single word is powerful enough to do that, you ask?

"Divorced."

Nooooooooooooo.

Rule number 1:  Married men only. Non-negotiable. Too much can go wrong with single men.  Non-negotiable. They don't have as much to lose in the relationship. Non-negotiable.  It throws off the whole power balance.  Non-negotiable.

But this one is so cute.  Maybe?  And smart and creative. Maybe. And I already want to straddle him and ride him hard even though I just barely learned about his existence.  How often does that happen?  Maybe.

No.  If I break the rules for this one, the flood gates will open and I'll end up making a mistake and getting caught, and then I lose my family.  No way.  Non-negotiable.

I'm sure he's reading this right now, and he's thinking I'm a crazy woman for vacillating so much on this issue.  I'm sure he understands how critical it is.  He was married once, right?  Sure he understands, but he's going to want a definitive answer from me so he doesn't waste his time.

So here it is....

They're my rules.  I can break them if I want.  ;-)

Maybe.

Real Advice from an Experienced Prowler-Sadist: Meet Chimpernel (Guest Post)

Well, fellow Prowlers, you know I'm not the only prowler out there.  We come in all types, and today's guest post is from someone I'm sure you'll enjoy. I found him on Twitter (Chimpernel), and he has some excellent (and naughty) thoughts and advice for you prowlers and prowlers-to-be. I'm sure we'll be hearing more from him.

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Hello, a guest post from old Chimpernel eh? Well, who is this charming rogue? Contextually, I’m a white, mostly-hetero Englishman, indeterminably aged somewhere between thirty-five and forty-five. I’m married with one daughter. I drink, smoke and have been known to indulge in bullshit and outright lying. I’m a pervert, scope yet to be fully defined. But what does that encompass? Well, I’m a sadist; I like to cause pain during sex. I’m a “top” which means I’m typically the more active partner during sex. I’m slightly dominant, which means I’m comfortable with taking the lead and occasionally enforcing my wishes. I’m slightly bisexual, which means I’m comfortable with the male physique even when it isn’t my own. I’m greedy, which means I’ve quite a high sex drive and want sex a LOT. I’m a “service top” which means that I think my partner's own pleasure is usually more important than mine and that I’m prepared to delay my own gratification to that end. I like bondage, which means, in my case, that I like to tie pretty girls but that I don’t particularly like being tied up.

Well from that limited context info dump it sounds like old Chimpernel is a nasty piece of work, eh? However, can we posit that it is possible to be a sadistic dominant and retain respect and indeed affection for the person you are dominating and hurting? How does one love the person you wish to hurt? And BTW when I say hurt I don’t mean the odd slap on the arse, I mean really really hurt. I am a real sadist not a pretend one.

Let’s dig a little deeper into two key areas, sadism and domination. Both imply a degree of violation, a degree of non-consensual interaction. I mean, who could like being forced to do painful things or be restrained so that painful things could be done more effectively to them. I admit it’s not everyone who would.  Luckily I have the woman of my dreams whose sexual makeup is a perfect complementary match for my own. She isn’t my wife though and that’s a whole realm of complexity and drama which we’ll explore at a later date.

But this is a blog for those on the prowl for extramarital complexities, so I’m going to give you my perspective of experiencing those complexities at the end of a marriage, because the problem with meeting the woman of your dreams is that it seriously throws into highlight how fucking awful your married life is and exposes all those justifications and rationalisations you’ve been using to mask how deeply unsatisfied, unhappy, bitter and angry you actually are. But let’s assume you aren’t there, maybe not yet or ever. Let’s assume this is just a bit of fun to spice up an otherwise slightly moribund life and hell, it might inject some much needed fun at home. It might be a meaningless one night stand, it might be something more substantial or it might be a mirror relationship, long term and fulfilling.

Either way, your first priority when you set out down this path, in fact even before you set out, is information hygiene, I’m assuming the whole safe sex thing is a given here people. Information hygiene is to do with, well basically, not keeping any information you don’t need to and thus not being caught via its presence or glaring absence. Email trails, SMS messages, phone records, MSN conversations, credit card statements etc. Handily, here I have some real expertise. In my vanilla trousers I’m a paranoid management consultant obsessed with information and records retention. The fundamental principles are very easy:

1. Don’t use your main email, use another hotmail account or such like
2. Don’t keep any of the emails/SMS, etc you send or receive. I know that re-reading them might provide some comfort doing a long and lonely night but you have a secure memory between your ears, use it, much harder to subpoena.
3. Online-only billing of credit cards is a wonder, same as online-only mobile bills, it means no one can accidentally open a statement and start asking awkward questions about common numbers, etc.,
4. Or just use cash for everything.

Now that you are aware of those principles, the next area is what do you want? Kinky sex with a nineteen year old, six foot, German nymphet and her adopted Zulu sister is unlikely if you are a charmless, balding fat lad from Romford with limited resources, though patently you have both imagination and great taste in sexual partners. In real life can you meet such a partner or partners? If not, then you might have to enter the world of online dating and possibly reinvent yourself by a profile which bears as little resemblance to reality as those of the people you will be talking with. Remember, if you have reinvented yourself as the third earl of Dudley the chances are that nineteen year old, six foot, German nymphet is another fat lad called Derek from Newcastle. I’ve found honesty is by far the best policy. Describing yourself as you are doesn’t mean you can’t use imagination and flair to expose the qualities you want people to focus on, and that doesn’t mean that charmless and fat has to equal “also has a 9” cock” to compensate for that*.  For gents humour and evidence of both intelligence and a degree of respect is very attractive and for ladies. Whilst we are all very visually triggered, men actually care much less for small details and more for the whole picture and some evidence of “fucks like a crazed weasel,” even if that evidence is a cheeky smile and a hint of smoulder.

More next week folks, and I promise it’ll be much ruder too.

*On that note, the global average dick size is six inches and 99% of penises are within an inch of that length. If someone claims to have an eight inch dick, he’s either one in ten thousand or the lying has started right there.

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Want to hear more from Chimpernel?  Keep checking back here for more posts!  You should also visit his blog, The Scarlet Chimpernel.