Tag Archives: Cheater

The Bastard Chronicles: Caught! Part I

Previous Installment

I don’t know how the typical affair progresses; I can only speak from my experience. Which is this: it progresses fast! Once the ball is rolling of course. That is probably what the biggest variable is; how long from meeting initially, to romantic interest, to sexual relationship. After that though, I can’t imagine how it can be anything but breakneck velocity. It’s too exciting, too easy to be caught up in it all. After all we’re not just talking about sex, that’s merely cheating; this is an affair.

Our secret world expanded exponentially after first physical contact. You can become so resourceful when facilitating an affair. Lies, excuses, anything to further the tryst. An addiction to a person is incredibly powerful. So it’s not at all surprising that I was scheming was to have more time, and to find somewhere to meet outside of work. That opportunity arose, and setting the plan in motion, I came up with all the proper excuses ahead of time to get myself out of the house and relatively unreachable for a few hours.

I picked her up and we nervously headed to our rendezvous. Despite so much conversation between us before, there was little said on the way there. We were both tense being somewhat in public together. The walls came down after we were alone at our destination, safely behind a locked door. If we were falling before, after this we had truly abandoned all signs telling us to turn back. Head first we went. As my plans up until now kept resulting in me getting what I wanted over and over again I began to feel a bit invincible. Well, more than a bit. I was walking around feeling like the fucking man, and how could anyone not know it? Rules? Not for me. Fuck all that. Of course you can be invincible for only so long.

The night after our little escape from real life, we emailed each other non stop into the late evening. Disbelief and euphoria over the day’s events the primary topics. At a certain point she stopped returning my emails, and I figured she must have gone to sleep, so I followed suit, few hours remaining until I had to wake for work in the morning. I had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach about her lack of final response, but I didn’t worry too much. We had set up rules to be followed explicitly to minimize the risks we taking (how fucking foolish we were). I soon drifted off to sleep, still on a high from the sex filled afternoon. Her night was much different from mine, as I would soon learn.

The morning was much like any other. It was cool, but had that feeling in the air that hinted at the hot day to come. My slight unease from the night before grew as I checked my secret email account and found my inbox empty. Receiving emails from her had become very consistent from at least some point during the night, every night. Still, I shrugged it off, and prepared for work. I was nearly there when I received an email. “Hey call me as soon as you get this.” Ominous. I found her contact in my phone and called immediately. As soon as the line was picked up I knew. I knew I wasn’t going to hear her voice. And I didn’t.


The Bastard Chronicles: Point of No Return

Previous Installment

Excitement and dread mixed throughout my consciousness. Upon seeing her the tension escalated to another level as the atmosphere became charged by our proximity to one another. As we began to talk I felt like everyone around us had superhuman hearing and were of course focused intently on our conversation. I thought surely at some point someone we knew would walk up and ask just what the hell was going on. Obviously didn’t happen.

While I had been plotting how to handle logistics in order to escalate physically, she had decided to take a much more direct route. After a few minutes of awkward small talk, she turned a sharp corner in the conversation and approached the issue directly. “Obviously we didn’t come here to talk about that,” she says to me, “I think you know what we need to talk about; about where we both know this is going.” Paraphrasing here.

I wasn’t prepared for her to be so candid. Well let’s be honest here, I wasn’t prepared for this situation at all. Who is? I was making it up as I went. It was at this point that I really felt like everyone around stopped what they were doing and were leaning in to hear us better. We walked away from the crowd and the situation felt a little more easy to navigate. Despite her straightforwardness I felt like it still needs to be handled very delicately. After all besides both of us being married with children, she is a coworker; it’s a lot on the line. But fighting biology can easily be a losing battle.

For as much passion that was evident thus far, our agreement was very businesslike. We decided matter-of-factly that we both want it, and would pursue an affair with each other. Romantic right? Immediately we decided to lay the framework for how we would continue to stay in contact, now doing it discreetly through secret email accounts. We parted ways agreeing to figure out the particulars later at work.

Part of the reason affairs are so intoxicating is the excitement and anticipation has an adolescent quality to it. Something you feel so rarely as an adult and rarer still the older you get. It’s a more vivid reminder of what it’s like to be young than any memory you could possibly recall. Especially when circumstances combined to make me feel very old beyond my years. It was a unique form of rejuvenation.

With nothing physical having happened yet, you would think things would have been more or less the same as before. But we weren’t just talking, we were colluding; building our secret world together. The power of this is amplified for affairs as its all about the secrecy. At least initially.

It’s telling about the debauchery that can happen in hospitals that so much of this takes place in one. If this isn’t new knowledge to you then you won’t find it surprising that the first time we found ourselves alone with each other was at work. Despite our decision I was still hesitating. Still avoiding that inevitable contact. I was standing at the brink, as scared as I was excited. One simple phrase from her sent me over the precipice.

We stood close; closer as we conversed. An extended pause, and then, “Just touch me.”

Next Installment

The Bastard Chronicles: Genesis

Previous Installment

The beginning is always a good place to start right? I don’t know that I will consistently stay chronological in writing about this, but some back story is called for. I’ll start by saying I didn’t consider myself in the game when this all began. I liked to say I kept one foot in, but mostly sat on the bench and coached the starters. Call it the mentality of a caged wolf.

Perhaps that’s something worth discussing briefly as well, or maybe even more later. Being a married man you end up being around a lot of other married men, just how it happens. Separate into your own herd, right? Or so we’re told it should be. The problem is herds are for sheep and not all men are so. Not even the married ones. Actually upon thinking about this a little, I will definitely be writing out some thoughts about it.

Back on track. On the bench, and all that. Well what could be seen as a problem with that mentality is that even if you’re on the bench you still are always thinking about the game. It’s not necessarily bad for a marriage; it keeps a man aware of attraction and I think much of what Athol talks about could apply if you’re only talking theoretical up until the point that the marriage is truly over.

I may have only been dimly or subconsciously aware of the line I was crossing. No, shit, fuck that. I fully fucking knew what I was doing. Not the full force of what the small decisions I was making would lead to, but I saw her, I knew what I wanted, and I put myself in a better position to have it. Naturally I added her on Facebook.

Let me just say now that this was before I knew “game principles” as taught around the ‘sphere. I acted strategically as seemed best at any given time, and generally this always worked for me. However any sort of strategy I may have thought to use in this situation went clearly out the window as we became more wrapped up in each other.

Marriages naturally have their ups and downs. Some of the downs last a long time, and no matter what you do, how good of a captain you are, some things you truly have no control over. The emotional disconnect that can occur in those long marital depressions can easily be underestimated. As a married man (especially when still on the blue pill) you expect that connection to be a part of your life. My thirst for it was immense, but completely unknown to me until this point in my life.

After finding out her full name through somewhat dubious means (a bit stalker-ish, but legit), saying fuck it, and clicking that add friend button on Facebook I waited to see how my first gamble would pay off. The next day I received two notifications: one that she had accepted my request, and two a message from her. Progress already I thought. Except that message was a warning that she nearly ignored my request, but was going against her better judgement and accepting it. Narrow victory, but victory nonetheless. Fortune favors the bold, right?

Boldness I had, but now it was time to indulge the stalker in me. Time to browse the photos of course. It wasn’t long until I stumbled onto one that changed it all for me. A switch flipped in my brain that brought the desire to fuck her directly to the forefront. This wasn’t your typical look-at-me Facebook snapshot you’ve seen a thousand times, yet it wasn’t really inappropriate either. Obviously I can’t show you all, so you’ll have to let your imaginations do some work for you.

It wasn’t too long until we were talking. A lot. A hell of a fucking lot. It was the beginning of summer, and our conversations punctuate every memory of it. It would be easy to say we hadn’t done anything yet, but of course we had. The emotional infidelity came hard and fast, and we both knew the road we were running down. It’s truly your classic example. The talking, the finding ways to briefly see each other, the careful avoidance of actually touching one another. The buildup was intoxicating.

We hastened down this path, and knowing this I began to strategize how I would push things to a more physical level. Logistics are always important in the game, but when we’re talking affairs they are not only incredibly important, but also incredibly difficult. While I’m pondering this one morning I receive a message from her asking me to meet her out somewhere. A quick excuse and I’m out the door.

The tension was immediately apparent, and I knew this was another turning point. Whatever she had to tell me had to be significant, but I could never have predicted what this conversation held for me.

Next Installment

The Bastard Chronicles: Addendum

My last post was an introduction to something I would like write a lot more about. It’s extremely personal, and understandably a bit controversial. The topic itself is something that is talked about relatively frequently, but not often from the perspective of someone right in the middle of the hurricane.

Along the way I made many mistakes, but few regrets. My plan is to write about it once a week. If I have enough readers I’m sure writing about this will generate some questions. I will do my best to answer the ones worth answering.

The Bastard Chronicles

I tend to think my perspective here is a relatively unique one. Yes, yes everyone thinks they’re a “special snowflake”. But no really, I haven’t read anything yet coming from the quite the same place as myself. I have talked about having kids and being a father, but what I haven’t disclosed is one of my children is a bastard. Not the usual way these days either; we are married, just not to each other.

I know I’m not the only one, but I’m certain I’m one of very few who will be talking about it like this. See, I feel there’s a lot to learn here. A lot that can be shared with my fellow man. And I don’t just mean sage advice such as “don’t do it” because that’s not what I’m going to tell you.

Infidelity is always going to be a hot topic, and it’s something that plays a part in almost everyone’s life at some point. I know my own is going to have far reaching implications that I can’t even begin to foresee yet. If your everyday actions have a ripple effect on other peoples’ lives, then something like this is the wake behind a cargo ship.

It’s something I’ve personally learned a great deal from. About life, about women, but mostly about myself. Causing pain to nearly everyone you care for can really make you look at yourself and the relationships you maintain. Many of the women in my life would like to believe what I learned in that introspection is a lesson in controlling my bad behavior. The hypocrites tried to make me a surrogate for their own shame.

It was something I bought into for a time, letting myself feel exactly as horrible as many around me expected and desired me to be; any slight display of happiness extinguished with extreme prejudice. I can only be thankful for their vicious deconstruction of me, because it presents a rare opportunity.

Picking up the pieces and rebuilding myself stronger makes them hate me even more, but now I revel in it. When I’m not around they love to hate me, and when I am around they hate that they love me. It’s a fantastic lesson in preselection and just how powerful dominant masculine frame is when coupled with charisma.

As much as I’ve learned there’s much more still. I walk a line somewhere between Athol and Roissy, with any and all advice needing a slightly different interpretation for my purposes. This journey is young and the road is long.

Next Installment

The First Time I Cheated

Alright, time to get personal with a tale from my past. NSFW perhaps, depending on how closely someone is reading over your shoulder.

It was the summer before my senior year of high school and I had been dating my girlfriend for about a year and a half. Yeah, I was that guy with the long term girlfriend in high school. Spent a year thankful just to be getting pussy at all. As I’m sure you all know that feeling only lasts so long.

The relationship was of the semi-long distance variety. She lived a town away and we mostly saw each other on the weekends. There were pros and cons, but for the most part that old saying rang true: distance makes the heart grow fonder. And hornier. As intense as those weekends could be, a young man can’t help but wonder what he can get away with in that time in between. I soon found out that it was quite a lot.

Being somewhat shy, possessing little self confidence, and no game (oblivious to that really), but industrious nonetheless I turned, of course, to the Internet. I don’t remember how long it to took me to find it, most Internet excursions quickly turned into looking at porn and vigorous masturbation, so productivity was low. But eventually I stumbled upon a certain site at which adults can find friends.

The problem with this you would think is that I wasn’t yet an adult. Minor hiccup for the determined deviant, just select one more year down on that drop down box and I was good to go. As soon as I signed up I knew I had found something special. It was like being eight in Toys R Us, looking at all shiny toys that you could possibly want, but couldn’t possibly afford.

Here’s my first real bold move: in the dark of night with the rest of the family soundly sleeping I stealthily started breaking laws. I stole my mother’s credit card, copied the info just as quick as could be, and slipped it back with no one the wiser. The fact that my parents remained none the wiser perhaps says something about their fiscal diligence.

Now, stolen credit card info in hand, my hand shook slightly as I entered it all and clicked “Submit”, unlocking the gates to unlimited casual sex with all the women I could possibly want. Only it wasn’t quite like that. There were women, some even attractive, but mostly it was a big cockfest. It served to truly shatter the idealism of a young man in regards to finding strange on the Internet.

Of course a few hundred pics of cocks randomly appearing on my big CRT monitor wasn’t enough to dissuade. Neither was the lack of responses from what I hoped were real females; I was determined. The real problem was that of all the women on there that actually were looking for quick cock, few were looking for “18 year old” cock. But I kept casting my line and eventually I got a bite.

My heart was pounding as I read her message that contained her Yahoo Messenger info. The elapsed time of her sending that message and me sending her one back in Yahoo was probably somewhere around 2.42 seconds, give or take a millisecond. I may have come off as slightly eager.

She was 23, experienced, and… married. I expressed to her how this (ironically) clashed with my morality, trying for some reason to come off as the valiant type. She assured me that he knew she did this and was completely on board and okay with it. He just thought of sport fucking young cocks as a harmless hobby. Sounded completely logical. After maybe fifteen minutes of anxious conversation she asked if I wanted to meet, just to see if we click at all.

“Byemomheadedtothegasstationbebackinabit,” I yelled as I ran out the door. I did walk to the gas station. The time was probably around 2:30 or so in the afternoon when her Jeep Cherokee swung into parking lot. I looked around nervously like I had an FBI tail or the mob after me as I got in and we took off. The small talk in the Jeep was excruciatingly awkward, but when I found out the drive to her place was only about seven minutes I would have given anything for it to be just ten minutes longer. I followed her in, thinking I must have lost my mind.

Once inside she had her prey trapped, and she didn’t waste time taking me down. Well, actually she went down. I immediately knew she was special at that moment. As I stood there in her living room appreciating that quality, I also began appreciating the giant broadsword on the wall, and the guns on the other wall, and the ammo on the table. Suddenly I wasn’t feeling as good. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing with that shit,” she assured me.

Somehow we ended up in her bedroom. To this day I don’t remember walking back there, but there we were. Room was a mess, and no sheets on the bed. I threw her on it anyway. Condom? What are those? My mind was no longer in control and everything was instinct. As I railed her against the mattress my unused mind actually began to wander. She’s so so wet, I thought to myself, thankful because it was helping me last so long. I felt like a porn star.

That feeling dissipated somewhat when after blowing my young unprotected load I stood up to see a filthy puddle of fresh blood more than a foot in diameter staining the mattress. I laughed, I didn’t care, felt like I had really slain that snatch.

Of course her reaction was a bit different. Her panic was immediate and intense. Perhaps her husband wasn’t quite on board with her activities? I never found out what happened with that mattress.

Not that I stopped fucking her. I began sneaking out mosts nights after everyone was asleep. She would pick me up at the end of the drive and into the night we’d go, parking random desolate places where I received a more practical sexual education. The first time she swallowed a load she said it was like a “warm Thanksgiving turkey dinner in her belly.”

I never did tell her my real age. See, it can happen to them too! After a few weeks my girlfriend decided to move to my town, and there the fun ends. For awhile, at least…