The next time I saw him I would try to sound him out on it, but in such a way that if he recoiled from the idea I could write it off as a joke. But I was becoming desperate for someone to look at me with desire and appreciation, for someone to find me attractive and sexual. When I ran into him a few nights later, my heart began pounding as soon as I recognised him in the dim light on the path. We chatted, although I was so nervous that I must have sounded like a lunatic. He spent a lot of time walking his dog in the evening to get out of the house, and I gathered that he was fairly unhappy in his relationship. But the logistics were so difficult, and the risks enormous.
Although it was impossible to predict when I would next run into him, I thought deeply about it and decided to risk all. But as the months dragged on and turned into years, I started craving some physical closeness and affection. May 23, 4: We chatted, although I was so nervous that I must have sounded like a lunatic. When my husband stopped wanting to make love to me, I was philosophical about it — I was often too busy or too tired to want it anyway, so what did it matter? My husband and I had been happy for the first five years, but after that, the constant grind of money worries, looking after small children and careers had started to wear away the last shreds of affection and respect we felt for each other. We have been meeting each other now for several months, sometimes a couple of times a week. Secret confessions of a dog walker What stories my dog could tell, if he could speak! When it got to the three and a half year mark, I decided that I could not exist in such a platonic, sterile way anymore. Neither of us wants to take the relationship any further, but I know more about my partner-in-crime, and he is in a similar situation to me, in a relationship that has lost its spark. The big decision In the end, I did nothing. He looked at me strangely and then to my amazement told me that maybe that wasn't such a bad idea! But I was becoming desperate for someone to look at me with desire and appreciation, for someone to find me attractive and sexual. But I didn't really know anything about the man himself. We greeted each other and began sauntering along, our dogs bounding around us. Was he married, was he gay, was he the sort of person who would agree to such a thing or would he find the idea tacky or disgusting? He was married, but unhappily so. What we do together gives us both a satisfaction and pleasure that we can't get at home and I am happier than I have been for a long time because I know that there is someone out there that sees me as a desirable, attractive, sexual woman. Starved for so long of a satisfying sexual life, I began fantasising about going out on my own to some rough local pub and finding a faceless stranger, having anonymous sex with them and then sneaking home. In the evenings as I walked our family dog in a long stretch of quiet parkland, I kept on turning over in my mind what options I had. Then we were leaning against each other, laughing shakily and agreeing to meet again a few nights later. In the end, when we paused at a large open area to let the dogs run, I made some lame joke about how we had to stop meeting like this, people would think we were "having an affair". When it came right down to it I didn't see how it would be possible to manage. The next time I saw him I would try to sound him out on it, but in such a way that if he recoiled from the idea I could write it off as a joke. One of these locals was a middle-aged man. I had never been attracted to him and he was probably ten years older than me, but I had always found him very well-educated and polite in our brief chats.
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