I’ve flown by the seat of my pants for some time now. I categorize myself as a lone wolf. It was a way to free myself from the bounds of being accountable, having to explain and a bed partner when I wasn’t in the mood. It was a difficult, heartbreaking decision to break it off, but I felt if I was remotely thinking of doing something so rash, then it had to be done.

I did. He was hurt. I am sorry. But still, it was the best. The relationship was heading in a direction I wasn’t ready for…more to the point he wasn’t the guy. The wedding bells, blissful riding off into the sunset guy. Oh, he was sweet, he had a good heart, but he was just a little too controlling for my personality. No, I wasn’t going to prime him for threesome, adult clubs or private (invite only) sex parties. It wasn’t that kind of relationship. We were normal. It was a normal relationship. Work the week and enjoy our weekends, either at home (my house, usually) or off on a two adventure.

We’d wake, make coffee, I’d feed my girl, we’d change and head out for a nice early morning run. Enjoy cups of my favorite brew on the sun porch reading the morning paper while planning our day. A farmer’s market in out in the country, or a day tip just because. Dinner out or a fest at home of our market selections. He was a wonderful cook and we took turns. It was all so picture perfect. But when I looked in the mirror I saw no sparkle in my brown eyes. A girls knows when she’s happy, if she’s being honest with herself. The eyes tell it all. When men are happy, they tend to block out the other stuff. He was happy.

It’s been a year and I’m getting along fabulously. On a moments notice I decided to attend the 2015 French Open. Just me. I’ve done that a lot in past 13 months. I’ve found an excellent house and pet sitter who has been a Godsend. She’s great with my girl and she is perfect for my home.

Within a 14 day period, I had tickets to the opens last 3 days, a prime hotel and round-trip air tickets. I packed light, I had visions of shopping my way through the rue des Rosiers, the Place des Vosges, Printemps and Galeries Lafayette. And I wasn’t disappointed!

A woman alone, meandering through the streets of Paris. It was liberatice!  The food was fantastic! The Open was…well, the men’s match was very exciting as a new champion was crowned. And Serena didn’t disappoint the crowd of French aristocrats when she gave her winning, thank you speech in French…flawless French!

While my seat was not a nose bleeder, it wasn’t an inner circle-on the court seat either. Sitting in the mid section, I was seated between a British couple all three days, on the second day I realized they were together and married. I offered that the gentleman and I would exchange seats so he could sit next to his wife. As we sat 3 together we engaged in conversation during exchange of sides and in between sets. The wife and I had a couple of ladies’ room breaks together. By day 3, we greeted each other as old friends as we entered the stadium together. There was dinner afterwards. A stroll through the park by the Tower Eiffel. And we shared a kiss, husband and I at the wife’s request. It was a shy peck on the lips until she baulked that we should kiss as they French would kiss. We did. It was spine tingling. We walked and talked until we found our way back to their hotel. We sat in the lobby, at my insistence, I felt they needed to explore their options a little more. I sensed this would be a new experience for both and I wanted to make sure they were sure.

We headed up to the concierge floor, grabbed a bottle of French bubbly and began our exploration of each other. She was older than her husband. He was fairly handsome, with abs and tight butt. Her breasts were soft with evidence of her age, but she was well versed in the art of tonguing my clit making me wetter than I’d ever been. Once she’d gotten me wet while I licked and sucked on his hard as a rock cock, she wanted to watch as he inserted himself into my juicy pussy. She sat in a chair while we made out on the bed, as if she wasn’t there. I glanced over to find her naked, spread legged and masturbating. Pulling on her nipple and fingering her pussy, eyes focused on he and I, as he turned me over to fuck me doggie style. I offered to oblige her, she insisted that I enjoy her husband. He and I came together. It was tense, loud and hard. We enjoyed our post coitus bliss. She was very appreciative, but I felt it was I who should be thanking her. He was awesome. He wanted to shower together, we did, did it again in the shower, redressed and headed out for a late night drink in the lobby bar with some cheese and crackers.

I was beginning to feel a little exhausted. The sun at the stadium, the champagne, the wine, the orgasms, were catching up with me. She walked me to the Valet who hailed me a cab, we hugged, thanked each other and into the cab I went. I left the next day, departing CDG early afternoon for ATL. I occupied myself between meals with my iPod listening to an audiobook. But I could help asking myself several times; How do I stop? How do I stop being the lone wolf? Open and free for adventure, impromptu moments.

As I keyed the door to my garage, I was so happy to see my girl. We played our welcome home game, her bringing me all her favorite toys to play with at once. And in that moment, I decided; I don’t want to stop. I think I’ll get another German Shepherd puppy.