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Confessions of the Housewife

Daily routine can be devastating. Especially if you're the housewife in her thirties, when kids want more independence and do not need that much care and you only meet your man at night because he is going to work when you are still sleeping. He is devoted father of children over the weekend, but I'll still stay on the background. Sex once a week, often even this is quick little romp, goodbye kisses in the middle of the week – it is without saying that this eventually kills.


Quite by chance, my life changed one morning while walking to the store. I met him by chance, suddenly bumping into each other. His nose was in his book and I just was in my own bubble. I apologised and awkwardly smiled, nervously played with my hair and admired him. He was a nice man, a young, dark-haired and with dark skin,with a face like a model. He was muscular and wore sporty clothes. It started when he invited me for a small coffee in his place. He lived quite close to a store. I felt that I could rely on him and complained for my sad and lonely life. I said my husband is a workaholic, and children have many other things to deal with and don’t show their faces at home very often and I stay home all day, or go to the shops.


After coffee I got ready to leave. Week passed by but I thought of him every day. Curiosity was killing me; I wanted to see him again. Soon I was at his door. He was happy to see me. He again offered me a coffee, and we sat chatting about the weather. I went to the kitchen to wash my cup, as I turned he was uncomfortably close to me. As if the land disappeared, our lips met, tongues danced with a vast passion and I wanted to burst.


Then I retreated. I only said with tears in my eyes, that it is wrong. I grabbed my coat and bag and rushed out of the door. Again, days went by. One day I found a small sheet of paper from my coat pocket, in which he had scribbled a phone number. Wondering if he really has planted that sheet there, I grabbed the handset and dialed the number. It was his voice; I said that I wanted to hear his voice. He was afraid that I will never call him. He invited me over for a coffee. I was a little bit afraid; I was ashamed that the last time I had run away like a little girl but I did not want to develop this relationship.


But seeing him I forgot everything. Our lips met again. He grabbed me tight and said smiling slyly; I will not let you run away again. We were already in bed and ripped each other clothes off. I repeated with a loud voice, that it is wrong and we should not do it, but he said at once forget about everything else and relax. And he offered a wonderful pleasure, I never felt that way with my husband.


We met more and more often. One day, when I went unannounced to his apartment the door was ajar. I stepped in and went on. I heard his voice, and someone else's - a woman’s voice. I began to tremble.


I moved towards the bedroom. I will never forget the sight of him and a young girl in bed together. Their response was so energetic, that none of them noticed me. I walked out of the room, grabbed the pen and paper from the living room table and wrote: You're pathetic. You changed my life, but I never expected to see such a sight. I hate you!


I left the paper in the kitchen and put the cup from which he always offered coffee to me on the paper. I walked away and deliberately kicked the door shut behind me with a terrible bang. They must have heard this. Then I ran away. I have not come across him again. He does not know my address, or telephone. Sometimes I have thought that I could go to him myself, but no.


Author: Divine London