Continued from Here Comes Trouble: Meet Number 35.
He didn’t drive the regular route back from the hospital. Not that I knew the regular route, but the hospital was in town and we also lived in town … I wasn’t sure how come Number 35 and I had ended up in what looked to be the woods.
“Why are we here?” I asked him.
“Because I’m not done with you yet but people are going to be waking up in the flats. They’ll see or hear us,” he replied, pulling the car into a really secluded and shady-looking spot.
He wanted to fuck me again. Our earlier performance in my flat hadn’t been enough for him, now he wanted more. I was in disbelief, to be honest, but once again I found myself doing what he asked. He fucked me in his car, first with me straddling him on the front seat, then with us laying down across the back seats, and then with me front-in, ass-out with my bare feet on damp ground. That’s when I saw the kid’s toys scattered across the footwells. I couldn’t cum before that, and I definitely wasn’t going to cum afterwards. The alcohol had started to wear off and the gravity of the situation hit me.
My husband got stabbed.
I had no idea if he was even still alive.
I was fucking some guy I knew nothing about in the woods.
I’d cheated on my husband … again.
Number 35 eventually finished screwing me and then drove me home, but that wasn’t the last time I heard from him. He was pretty persistent for a while, but I found out that he had a fiancée … and a step-kid … and a baby on the way. And the only reason I found out about them was because she read our MSN messages and took it upon herself to message me. [Quite rightly.] She threatened to tell everyone – including my husband – if I didn’t leave him alone, so I left him alone, and when it became apparent to him that I wouldn’t be his booty call anymore, he moved on to someone else. It was only a couple of weeks later that rumours started to spread about him sleeping with another co-worker’s wife … and I knew it was true because she just so happened to be my friend and told me all about it. I never told her about what Number 35 and I had gotten up to, but I think she knew. I actually think he might have told her.
Fast forward 5 years and we come to the present day. Number 35 is still with that fiancée he cheated on. They actually got married, and then they had another kid. He hasn’t changed a patch, though. Not at all. He’s messaged me on Facebook a few times since our last dalliance, and he sent me messages just YESTERDAY, prompting my previous post, and proving my point that he’s exactly the same cheating scumbag he’s always been.
Me: Aren’t you still with your wife?
Him: Yeah but I wouldn’t have minded seein u lol
Me: I have a boyfriend.
Him: Are u more faithful to him than u were to ur husband?
I mean, he’s got a point, but still, PRICK.
He went on to tell me that he’d stalked my Facebook page and listed individual photos he had a particular fondness for, along with the parts of my body he’d thought about as he wanked over them. I should’ve stopped the conversation dead, but for some reason, I didn’t. Instead, I let him pile on the compliments. He thinks I’m hot, sexy, gorgeous. He’s never stopped wanting me, the nights we had were unforgettable, he’d love to fuck me again … blah, blah, blah.
I just wanted to see how far he’d hang himself if I gave him the rope, you know? I didn’t react in a sexual way, but I was civil-friendly. It actually felt good to read the compliments for a little while … even if they were from him. When I spent a moment to have a look at his Facebook page, I realised something was a little … off. A few things, actually.
Firstly, his name was wrong. It was the right name but the wrong spelling, an extra letter thrown in.
Secondly, his profile didn’t have a picture. It did at first, but it just disappeared at some point after we started messaging. (I thought it was a poor signal thing.)
Thirdly, his profile was basically blank. No personal information, no images (the profile one had been deleted), nothing.
Fourthly, I did a search and found another profile – an active one – with the RIGHT spelling of his name, very clearly showing that he was still married. Wife-and-kids pictures galore. Lots of personal information.
The scumbag even has a secret, incorrectly-spelled Facebook account so he can cheat on his wife. Can you believe that?
I’m embarrassed about Number 35. And I’m ashamed that I cheated on my husband with him. I don’t know why I acted that way once I’d been drinking, but it’s a pattern that keeps repeating itself, even to this day. Those blackouts are a big problem for me and I have absolutely no idea how to get them under control. Because when I get blackout drunk I ruin my own life. All the things I did with Number 35, I did HAPPILY … because I was drunk. I didn’t try to stop him from coming on to me, not once. I didn’t think about my husband, not even when he was in the hospital after being stabbed.
The Hubby was fine, by the way. It was mostly superficial damage that left him with an awesome scar that he loved to tell tales about. If the slash had been any further left or right, it might’ve apparently caused some VERY serious damage, but he made a full recovery.
And he never did find out about Number 35: The Take Me to the Woods Guy, whom I shall be ignoring in future.