I know it’s wrong, but it’s the best sex of my life.
Hey, cutie. Just wanted to let you know that this story originally ran in our April issue, so if you like what you see, you should probably snag a hard copy ASAP. Bye!
I sit and wait for him in our usual corner of the hotel bar, wondering about the orgasms he’ll give me tonight. Will there be a long buildup to something super deep and satisfying? Or will we get straight to the fast, pulsating releases he knows I love?
My eyes stay low, intentionally avoiding the heavy diamond on my left finger. When he shows up, he breathes a sweet “hello” into the back of my neck. Ugh, if only this happened more often than twice a month…if only he were my husband.
Until recently, I took my vows seriously. My husband has been “it” for me since we met in college. There weren’t crazy sparks, but he was my first boyfriend—my first everything—and he was persistent. So when he proposed two weeks before I graduated, I said yes.
Five years later, we have two toddlers and a terribly vanilla, one-sided sex life. Foreplay, experimentation, throw-me-against-the-wall passion? There is none. And the kicker: He’s never gone down on me. Not once.
“That’s a hard no for me,” he replied. “I don’t like it.” After that, he told me he’d rather I not ask again. So that night, sex ended with his orgasm, and I was left lying there, unsatisfied.
Not long after, I noticed a hot guy hovering near me at the grocery store. Eventually, he walked up and said, “Bless the lucky guy who put a ring on that finger.” I remember thinking, I don’t think the lucky guy gets it.
The kicker: My husband has never gone down on me. Not once.
Something about that quick conversation woke me up. That night, I downloaded Ashley Madison—the online dating service for people already in committed relationships—hoping to find someone who would. Soon, I connected with Jared*. He seemed handsome, kind, and adventurous, and after discreetly messaging for two weeks, we decided to meet up in person.
That night, I was nervous as hell. Even as a married woman, I was still pretty inexperienced sexually. I also felt guilty, of course, wondering if I’d tried everything I could have with my husband. But then I thought of all the compromises I’d offered that he’d rejected (including something involving Saran Wrap that my therapist suggested…). Oral was a nonnegotiable for him, so I decided that instead of denying myself this experience, I’d just have to get it somewhere else.
So I did it. I cheated. Jared knew I hadn’t experienced oral sex before, and he was more than willing to go there. No one had ever considered my pleasure the way he did.
Four climaxes later, I was panting on the bed, obsessing not about my marriage but when we’d go at it again.
Now, I try to see Jared as often as I can, and we text daily on a private messaging app.
But I know what you’re thinking: Why don’t I leave my husband? It’s simple: We have kids and they’re my priority—and my husband is a great father. Maybe it’s unrealistic of me to expect him to be all the things I need. And maybe it’s unrealistic for my husband not to expect me to need more.