Why I’m Cheating on My Husband

I’m a good little slut when he tells me to be, and right now, that’s what he wants. I listen to his voice while his subdued, hushed tone commands me through the phone. He directs my hands and fingers down the curves of my body, but not where I want them just yet.

He hears my muffled moans from a static iPhone echo. I can hear his lips form into a sly grin when he greets me with an unexpected, but familiar buzzing that withers me toward deeper breaths. (We’ve recently invested in a Bluetooth-enabled sex toy that he has the ability to control from a distance). I smile.

If he could see me right now, he’d feel the goose bumps elevated on my forearms. He’d notice the way the crevice of my collar bone contorts when the vibrations increase. He’d watch my back arch in glorious stupor as he led me to orgasm.

But for now, he’s speaking to me through the phone. Because this is the safest—and really, only— option when my husband is just a few rooms away, and there’s a global pandemic attacking the U.S.


My husband and I have been married for 12 years. He’s the absolute love of my life. When people meet me, they like me. But when people meet him, they love him.

We have one daughter together, and up until about three years ago, I thought I had the life I’d always wanted. But recently, I started developing different desires sexually. I don’t know if porn is to blame necessarily, but a few specific videos awoke a newfound desire to be manhandled—ya know, treated in, like, a sluttier, naughtier way. Sometimes you don’t want to make love. You want to be fucked.

I brought up my revelations with my husband around three years ago, and although he was a little taken back, he was willing to try. And we did.

“Sometimes you don’t want to make love. You want to fuck.”

But it’s hard for any man, especially one who I’d often make love to once or twice a week anyway, to all of a sudden learn how to fuck me the way I wanted to be fucked. He’s loving, and sweet, and nurturing. He didn’t want to spank or choke the mother of his child the way I wanted him to.

And while I was defeated, I understood: It really isn’t fair to expect him to change who he is because my sexual needs evolved.

But I will say that opening up to your lifelong partner about a sexual fantasy you have is an absolutely jarring experience—especially when it doesn’t really work. So I recoiled back inside my thoughts and never brought it back up to him. We still make love once, sometimes twice a week.

Then, a year ago, I decided to download Ashley Madison, a website that connects people with others seeking affairs. I wish I could tell you that there was a definitive moment that made me download it that night, but it was simply that I had finally mustered up the courage to do so.

And upon downloading, holy men. I was absolutely enthralled. I spent six weeks talking to more than 100 different suitors, literally. After the first month or so, I was able to narrow them down to my top ten based on physical attraction, consistency, affair goals, etc. We’d get coffee, meet for breakfast, at the park, whatever, just to get acquainted. Then the first affair happened in a booked hotel room.

From there, I just kept meeting so many hot men. If I wanted to make someone fuck me like a nasty little slut, I could. If I wanted to go to a sex club, I could. But then… coronavirus hit.

I am used to meeting up with men whenever I want to. But since the global pandemic, I’ve had to take my sexual needs virtual: phone sex, video sex, sexting, and videos… sometimes when my husband is still in the house.

“It really isn’t fair to expect him to change who he is because my sexual needs did.”

I talk to at least 3-5 men throughout the day. We’re either texting or chatting on a private app, like Kik, WhatsApp, or Google Hangouts. The men and I try to coordinate times we can talk on the phone and get each other off or FaceTime masturbation. When this is all you have to work with due to isolation requirements and stay at home orders… it can be a lot of fun.

Plus, knowing the thrill that my husband is around and could catch me at any time makes it so much hotter. Being stuck at home certainly adds a new layer of challenges, but for some people, that makes the affair that much sexier.

I’d even argue that it makes my sex life with my husband even better. I’m more confident, happier, satisfied in that area already, so I think that reflects when we engage in sex too.

Obviously though, like anyone else, I’m ready for the quarantine to be over. Talking to these men just doesn’t compare to seeing them—feeling them, IRL. And I need my fix.

So when all of this is over, and I can go out and meet up with the men I’m speaking with now, I’ll absolutely do it. But before you think I’m a monster, know this: I decided that between the risk of being unfulfilled the rest of my life or stepping outside my marriage for what I wanted, the latter was the better option. And I won’t feel guilty for it. My affairs are about me, and only me—they have nothing to do with my husband. I love him, but maybe it’s unrealistic of me to expect him to be all the things I need in every facet of my life: emotionally, physically, mentally, etc. I need something more, and I know exactly how to get it—so I will.

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