Confessions of an Adulterer

In an old Gold Rush Cabin deep in the mountains of BC, the young blonde man with the ginger beard fucked my brains out. Then he sent me home to my husband and family a more loving and compassionate wife and mother than I had left as.

I am married to a good man with a dark shadow. Over 21 years, his sex drive has dwindled from low to no. At 45, I wasn't ready to welcome celibacy. I decided to make good on an old agreement we had made when we were young. If either of us ever needed "just sex," because our relationship had become that way for whatever reason, we agreed that the other should have it. It's "just sex' after all.

That old agreement was not even a faded memory in my husbands mind anymore, the grip the darkness has on his consciousness was and remains firm, but in my mind and memory, this agreement meant hope for me and us. I could not have planned what was to transpire any better if I'd tried!

Following poor results online, I decided to back away from online connections.

Spontaneously, I visited friends out of town for a summer decomp party. It was a fun party. I danced for hours. We didn't even meet at the party, rather in the morning after the party.

That morning I rose early, I'm not a sleeper-inner, even after a party. I tiptoed out the door trying not to disturb anyone but I heard a rustle and I whispered, "So sorry," as I closed the door behind me.

I walked over to the remains of the fire and surveyed the scattering of cans and personal items and I chuckled to myself. Good times, I thought. Now then, it's time to stoke what's left of that fire.

Satisfied with my stoke, I next made coffee and then I sat there staring into the coals with my hot cuppa.

"Ahhhhhh," I said out loud as I listened to the sun melting the frost. My gaze led me to the lightly billowing hot tub smoke stack. Smoke!? Is it still hot, I wondered?

I jogged over and knelt on the ground amazed to see a red glow from beneath. I stood up and slid the plywood lid off the top - is it still hot? Wow, yes, perfection!

I cackled to myself. Score! A hot tub right now would be gloooorious, especially on sore legs! And this was no regular hot tub; it had been made from a steel drum and was small, fitting only 2-4 bodies at a time.

Parked amoungst birch trees, it looked more like a cauldron. I was afraid to sit with the fire burning beneath, but wooden seats saved my cheeks.

I was alone in this hot tub. No one else was even awake yet. The frost melted as the fall sun quickly warmed the forest life back up, and I was naked in it, coffee in one hand, doobie in the other. "Ahhhhh," I said. "This is one of the best moments of my life," I said out loud. And I meant it.

I sat there sipping my coffee and puffing a joint. Two fellas had also gotten up by now and one called over and asked if he could join.

"Of course," I said. Company is all that might make this morning better, I thought, even though I was naked. Nay! BECAUSE I was naked.

Tastefully, he wore his underwear and his eyes never dropped below mine.

I murmured I was surprised it was still hot and he replied, "That's because I stoked it up at 4:30 just before I went to bed so it would be perfect this morning."

Oh, thought I.

"Planning," he went on to say, "It's all about the planning."

Now he had my attention!

The following weekend, we met to shoot migrating Sand Hill Cranes AND followed up with a late night light painting session at Wineglass Falls. Epic.

A few weeks later and with a packed schedule, I suddenly had a weekend cancellation and an opportunity to get away - we had planned to shoot the stars sometime; he suggested some cabin out in the woods and I was game!

We drove out in his flashy, lifted, red Tacoma and we left town in the first snowfall of the year. It was quickly collecting already and despite the truck, I was nervous we'd get stuck.

As if reading my mind, he looked over at me and said, "I think we should turn back and get the chains." I agreed.

We drove in on an old Gold Rush Trail, into Stanley, BC. We laid fresh tracks in 8+ inches of snow and to say I was nervous would be an understatement. I was in for a fuck, not getting stuck!

My focus was redirected briefly when we stopped for a quick but epic photo shoot at the Stanley Cemetary which was both humbling and breathtaking. We were witnesses to the first snowfall and the glimmer of afternoon sunlight fighting its way through the clouds to shine on these historical grave markers of the men and women who had also come along that same road but over a century before us was magical. Ethereal even.

I felt humbled there, clutching my technology and shivering slightly in my high tech clothing having driven in by Tacoma on an overnight to shag! Certainly a fortune of a different kind was sought this day by we.

I imagined the brave frontier women who had come before me. Brave. Ass. Gold Rush Women. Just having a period out here would have been a nightmare, nevermind child birth.

We continued the drive and the road began to steepen and wind. The snow became even deeper. We rounded a corner to find a tree had fallen across the road.

Oh, I thought, I guess we're going home now.

"That's no problem," he said looking over at me as if he heard me, "I've got my chainsaw. That's if we'll even need it," he said as he chuckled and proceeded to drive right over it.

I swooned. He probably could have seen my pupils dilate but I was all eyes forward on this wild ride.

A little more gain in altitude and now just before sun down, we pulled into Stanley Cabin and we quickly set to task setting up. We unpacked and went out again for firewood.

Mountain Man just chainsawed down a couple of trees, bucked them up and together we loaded the wood into his truck and took it all back to the cabin.

He had mentioned something about building me a hot tub out there, but I was skeptical; I hadn't even really listened. I'm kinda picky with my hot tubs and after the birch forest cauldron, the bar was now set quite high, but I did not decline. I chilled out while he worked.

He pumped water to the "tub" from the creek which trickled by the cabin just 20 feet away.

Satisfied with his work, he came back inside and we ate some cheese, soup and hot coffee while the water outside heated. He offered me a massage. I accepted.

With his strong, firm fingers, he rolled my body between his hands. I could hear his breathing become huskier, I hoped he wouldn't be shy. His hand slid between my thighs and his finger tips brushed my lips, asking for entry.

I admitted him, parting my legs just enough that the sliding of his hand could be felt as his fingers entered me.

I breathed in, my hunger suddenly obvious to me. I bent my back like a cat in heat and moaned while he slid his fingers in and out. I was wet, so wet.

I rolled over so his hungry hands and mouth could devour me!

"Oh yeahhhh, fuck yeahhh," he said sliding his cock into my wet, hot pussy.

"Fuuuck yeahhhh," he said while he fucked me harder and harder. I felt him push deep into me. Over and over.

After over 21 years of marriage to a man with low to no sex drive, there is something to be said for solid dick. No dildo or vibrator can match the chemistry of fucking.

Intimacy, a hungry mouth and hungry hands will win every time when the mind is free to take, at least for a few moments, pure self indulgent undirected acceptance.

We fucked and breaked, then fucked some more and breaked again before we fucked some more again before bringing me to earthshaking orgasm. Ripples of pleasure shook me while he filled me with his passion.

I breathed. I quivered. I shook some more and then I laid there, now a windless, well fucked woman.

"Hot tub," he asked?

Oh yah, I thought, I'd forgotten about it. I wrapped a blanket around myself and stepped out into the snow to check if it was hot enough. It was! We slipped in and enjoyed the silence of the sky, the Milky Way, the newly frozen forest around us, the Cariboo Mountains and each other.

Did this even really just happen, I wondered?

We got out and cuddled up underneath the blankets in bed. Without a thought, I slipped to sleep.

The following morning, we speared Beef Tenderloin with sticks, slapped them up with salt, pepper and oil and roasted them on the fire in the stove. We ate our meat with our finger tips, right off the sticks and drank our coffee unfiltered and strong.

I felt liberated. Liberated to love and to be loved. I had no shame. I could not feel like I had done something wrong. I felt like I had achieved my best life for just a day. With no effort at all but all the courage.

And now I was ready to return home. I hadn't actually waited for my husband's reply when I texted him but I was eager to get back. How odd, to be eager to get home! I hadn't felt eager to get home in as long as I could remember.

As we re-entered cel service, I checked my phone, he hadn't even replied back. Nice.

I returned home with enthusiasm. I greeted my husband in his usual dark state and found compassion when I hadn't felt any in so long.

"How was your trip," he asked?

"It was amazing," and I began to gush about the cemetary, the 4x4 journey, the location, the Century Old Miner's Cabin and the cariboo habitat. "It was gorgeous," I finished with. I left out the part about the hot tub and the fucking.