I loved how he lusted after me. He could not keep his hands off my boobs of ass, even in public. It felt like an uncontainable love. I had been in a few relationships before that had been similar, as it is common amongst teens, but as always, I was convinced this was love. After a couple of weeks, he went back to California and it was all done. We stayed in touch talking and texting when he could. I missed him a lot and he said he missed me, and it often led to really long conversations over the weekends. He completed some training he had to do, and came back home for a short vacation. We started hooking up again and he proposed. We got married that same week, and eventually flew out to California with him. We got a small military house in Camp Pendleton. I was fascinated with the base, seeing uniforms everywhere and just the totally different landscape from San Antonio. Everything was exciting and exotic about my marriage, the location, the freedom of being away from family, even. We decided to meet at a pub not too far from where he lives, which was less than ten miles from me. At home, I had dinner and got to see my man and his kid (not mine) leave for the game. Even though it was freezing out, I’d been asked to wear a short skirt and heels, and so I did. But I soon wished that I hadn’t — it really was cold. We got to the pub about the same time and he came to me in the parking lot. All smiles, he looked about six-foot, a little on the husky side, and was balding with some salt and pepper hair. He wore a black coat and jeans.Taking my arm, he said, “So glad you actually came,” and we walked into the bar.We started with familiar small talk, chatting about his work, and then he said he was divorced and his kids were older. But, as the drinks kicked in, he told me he that he used to swing with his wife, that he was truly a sex addict and that it had led to the end of his marriage. I admitted to also being an addict and said that swinging was great — except that.
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