Questions of infidelity and sex in public places

It’s been a busy week. I’ve had sex in three different public places, all with spectacular views, and met a guy. Yeah, another one.

I got to chatting with The American after he asked for directions at a fountain and we discovered we both spoke English (always a bonus here). He’s very talkative. I seem to attract them. But also very interesting. A young businessman in the midst of sealing a very important contract. Looks, brains AND money. He seemed genuine when he said he didn’t know many people here, so I gave him my number.

The next night I invited him to drinks with a few of my friends, where he brought a stream of beautiful Italians with him. I decided I liked him. As did my friends, so we invited him out again the following night.

A few beers later and we all ended up star-gazing at the Pantheon. As you do. The American and I ended up talking alone and our flirting lead to kissing. I felt guilty for a second, then I kissed him back.

We saw each other again a few nights later, where, again, we passionately said goodnight. He left for Israel today. I probably won’t see him again, which is why I don’t feel the need to tell Frank. I was fully intent on doing so, as I thought I really had feelings for The American, but I think the combination of the brevity, and perhaps the fact that I’m feeling more and more like I’m in a relationship (an emotion I’m generally not fond of) was probably what fuelled this attraction.

Don’t get me wrong, he was hot. But I think it was a slightly false appeal; me trying to prove I still held independence outside of Frank or something.

Yesterday, all my conflicts were resolved. Frank had promised to whisk me to a nearby lake on his motorbike, so I rocked up at his place early, to find him hungover and fast asleep, with little desire to get up and go out. Unimpressed was an understatement. No wonder my thoughts strayed back to the engaging young entrepreneur.

Of course I fucked him anyway, and possibly because I was in a place where I really didn’t care about his getting off, I concentrated very much on my own pleasure which lead to the best orgasm of my life, and ended up seriously turning him on in the process because I was enjoying myself so much. I should cheat on my casual flings more often.

After that, followed by a cup of coffee, he finally woke up enough to drive me up to this absolutely gorgeous lake. I had the most scenic sex of my life. Seriously.

That is what I was staring at when I orgasmed. Then we picnicked by the view and wondered into this picturesque little lake-side town before swimming in the lake. We’d have loved to shag there as well, but I was pressed for time; my work started in less than an hour, and the drive home was a good hour and a half. What’s life without a little risk though, eh? (because very public sex apparently doesn’t provide enough of an adrenaline rush for me)

We’d had such a romantic day together, I left feeling all elated and fuzzy inside. Not even the rushed apology to my boss for being 40 minutes late could spoil my good mood.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t quite believe this is real”, he said.

I berate myself for becoming side-tracked. No sweet-talking, gorgeous American can really replace the months of sex and drunken conversations Frank and I have had. After all this time the casual encounters start to add up to something.

 

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