ADULTERY

I love my husband. He is everything I want and need. He brings so much meaning to my life. We have two wonderful children that I adore. They are my life. By normal standards, I have everything money, safety, security, two perfect children and a loving husband. I should be happy and fulfilled. I have a great career doing something that stimulates my mind, something that I love. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. As of late, my energy is low and I have a problem motivating myself. My life has become bland and insipid. Everything in my life is ritualistic and passive. As a young girl, I thought marriage would give me a happily ever after. Not that I don’t love my husband because I do, he is so perfect and he treats me so well. I honestly don’t know what I would do without him. Still, the question remains. Is this it? Is this my life now? Everything has become chore. The spontaneous life has receded to the past. We don’t have sex that often and when we do I fake orgasms. I wonder if he notices. I doubt it, I’ve been faking for so long that it has become impossible to detect. I have become an expert liar, the moaning’s are now automatic. Not that it’s a bad thing, I have to do it, it reassures him of a good job. To be fair, he sometimes does a great job but it’s in the minority. I remember a time when we used to have sex every day. A time when he drove me crazy. A time when he used to make me come multiple times in a session. A time when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. A time when pleasing him was top of the agenda. A time of imagination, oral examinations and forbidden sex positions. A time of clarity and excitement. When everything made sense. When my life was easy to love and loving myself was easier.

I understand that we have been married for 10 years now and the romantic phase has to die down. That we need to be responsible and competent adults. But it’s not about the sex. It’s not even about my relationship. On the contrary, my relationship with my husband is perfect. We have an understanding and we are both happy with one another. It’s something else. A void. I feel like I am living a lie. I feel like a robot, passively getting work done. At times I am emotionless. I don’t get pleasure out of life anymore. I feel overwhelmed by life. I am confused and it makes me sad. What do you give a woman who has everything? Am I ungrateful? No. However I am close to apathy. My low levels of energy are making it hard for me to participate in life. It’s like my body is in comatose, completely paralyzed by the sadness in my soul. Maybe I am depressed. Maybe depression is a real condition. It wasn’t something I took seriously but how do I explain the apathy I feel? Do I even want to participate in this mindless, passive, repetitive mode we call life? Unfortunately, I have to. For my husband, my children, my family so we can navigate the world successfully. So I will just have to power through and be supermom, do it with great zeal and enthusiasm, with a smile, no one can know how I feel. I imagine it would be hard for my husband and I don’t want to trouble him. I don’t want him to think that his not doing enough because he is. I don’t want him to blame himself for my lack of happiness. Besides, depression is not a real condition. We all have bad days. Maybe, it’s a phase, I’ve just recently turned 30 and the second phase of my life is in commencement. Perhaps, I am in mourning for younger self. I don’t know. I just feel empty and dead inside. Despite the passing time and the orbiting of the planet my life is fixed and stagnant at one point.

I met Steven at his suite for an interview for the newspaper. We used to date when we were in High School, 16 and in love nothing could come between us. He was my first love, the person who made me conscious of this abstract thing call love. He is now a respected member of the socialist party. He is powerful. I can’t wait to meet with him. The newspaper sent me over to cover the story of his alleged infidelity, the story is making rounds in the country and we want to cover his side. It was hard getting him to commit to the story, we had to promise heaven. The chance to put things straight was too good for him to pass up on, we had to appeal to his ego and narcissistic side. The rumours were rouge and good PR was needed to spin the story, at least that’s what his advisors would have advised him. 14:00 struck and I went to his suite to meet up with him. He had grown up and had traces of someone I used to know. Was he the dashing young boy I fell in love with? Of course he was a man now and his attributes screamed that. He was well defined, groomed, trimmed and slim. He looked so good in a suit. He didn’t look at all like the boy who used to fondle with my breasts. We exchanged pleasantries and sat down. We engaged in small talk and were nostalgic about the past before we could get down to business. Our meeting was upbeat and energetic. I felt like I was in the moment. It was as if the world were moving again. We came around to the infidelity and he responded that the news were all false. He told me that it was just a political campaign meant to tarnish his name with the elections around the corner. He knew the alleged woman but not enough to be a lover or even a friend. They just met at two separate public functions and enjoyed each other’s company. He explained that he had no contact with her whatsoever. With that omission, the interview was over and we decided to talk off the record as friends. He asked me if I was happy. Reluctant, I replied yes. I could see it in his eyes that he wasn’t content with my response but he didn’t want to impose himself. He told me that he was not happy. That the pressures of life are getting to him. His work and the need to be exemplary is exhausting. The political games. His life splashed on the newspapers and prime time bulletins like it was entertainment and the constant pressure from his wife who seems to like the benefits that come from being the wife of a highly esteemed and powerful man. To be fair, who wouldn’t? The money, the designer clothes, the parties, the fame, the respect. Who would want to give that away? And for what? Because you’re depressed? That is not a real condition. People are dying in Africa. He told me that he feels trapped in his life that he feels like a slave. That he has lost his passion and most of the time he is just on auto-pilot. There was a silence on the table for a while and then he continued. He said that he recognizes that same sadness in my eyes to which I didn’t respond. I told him that it was a great meeting and that we should meet up again. He agreed. I stood up and he showed me to the door. Just when I was about to go out, I had the sudden urge to kiss him. I kissed him and he seemed to go with it. He passionately pushed my body towards him and held me tightly as he closed the door. We continued kissing and it was so hot and steamy. It was intense and I was so horny. I displaced my lips on his and kissed him on the neck while I took his shirt off. I continued with the kissing process and made my way to the torso. I kneeled down and took off his pants and started giving his oral pleasure. He held my head and controlled the motion of the strokes. The movements started of slow and gradual and then sped up with intensity. He was groaning and I could tell that he was about to climax and I let him come in my mouth – it was intoxicating!

Steven makes me feel like I can fly. He makes me feel like I am free. I have found a new lease of life. Yesterday was exciting. The thrill, the adrenaline rush of being caught out. The irony of the interview we set up. He understands me and how I am feeling. I wonder if he talks to his wife about his concerns and his feelings. I can’t believe I gave him a blow job. On the first day? It was like I was possessed by a love demon who took a hold of my body. When he caressed my breasts something in my head exploded and I was no longer in control. I was listening to a song by Amy Winehouse called Love Is Blind and it dominates how I feel because I relate. In the song Amy is unapologetic about his infidelity. She is ironic and condescending. Her arrogance is admirable. Her justifications are laughable. She’s not really explaining herself to anyone. She is at peace with all the repercussions. On the famous song she states “You are my everything, he means nothing to me. I was thinking about you when I came.” I love the song but don’t agree with the tone of the song. I care for the repercussions. I love my husband, I love my children and I don’t want to lose our family. However, I was thinking about my husband when Steven came in my mouth. The experience helped and I came home later that day rejuvenated. My husband and I made love and I moaned with pure pleasure. He sent me to the moon. Maybe my interaction with him is good for my marriage. I want to see where this will end. He called me today and we agreed to see each other next week at a different hotel. I feel good about it.

We met at the designated hotel. He was so cold and distant. What had sparked his indifferent mood today? Was the world out for his head again? The hypocrisy of hotel rooms. On my way to the room I was in incognito, I had my shades and scarf on despite the fact that it was 36 degrees. Surely, that constitutes as suspicious behaviour. I didn’t think things through, I was too locked up in my own world that I failed to look at things on an objective criteria. The woman in the elevator besides me at 13:00 pm is surely like me. Why conceal myself? Why hide what I came to do in room 424 of this hotel room when everybody knows. The staff surely know, the concierge, the receptionist, I am just another number. We all have the same problems but act like ours is different. While in the room with Steven I think about how amateurish I must have been and vow to do better next time. It didn’t take long for me and Steven to get intimate. He had an aggressive demeanour this time and he went on the offense. He pressed me up against the wall and started kissing me passionately. He started with my neck and then proceeded to the lips while he took off my shirt and bra. Now half naked, I took off my skirt while he also undressed. He carried me to the bed and started kissing and sucking my breasts. It was slow gradual kissing until he made it to my torso. At this time I was overcome with pleasure and I wanted him to go down on me. He took off my panties and turned me around. I was on all fours. I had the stature of a dog, a bitch. In that position, he penetrated me from behind not in my vagina but anus. It was painful and yet pleasurable. It was like walking on hot coal, it burns the flesh but the adrenalin rush is at its peak and telling you to go on. The moans and groans where real emanating from a real place – pain but I didn’t want him to stop. And so he kept pounding and pounding. To keep myself from screaming I put a pillow on my face and then it was done. He signalled that he was coming and I let him come on my breasts. Afterwards, we just laid on the bed for a while. We didn’t engage in a dialogue, the room was quiet. He got up from the bed and started putting on his clothes back. He then made a contribution on how to remove the odour. The advice was that I take a shower first thing when I got home. He also talked about the stains that will undoubtedly make their appearance on my underwear. He seemed like a professional. Did he do this on a regular basis? Am I one of his targets, his victims? I was thoughtful. What happened here wasn’t love. He humiliated me. He objectified me. He violated me and left me with no dignity. I was his slave and he did what he wanted with me. In my mind, I told myself that I wasn’t going to see him again. That it was over. Until, he said “this was fun. We should do this again.” I replied, “yes it was fun and most definitely we should.” I wasn’t lying, I would like to see him again and yes it was fun. It was my first anal experience and of course it was difficult but it was new and fresh. In that moment, I was alive and engaged in the process. Pain notified me that I was present and it felt good. It will be even better next time.

I am in a better mood these days. I wonder if my husband and children have noticed. I wonder if I am exhibiting strange behaviour. I feel like I am on top of the world. I feel in control. I see more colour in my life. Not that I am condoning my adultery but my sex life with my husband is better. Our love-making sessions are reunions that are breath-taking. They are unbelievable. I don’t have to fake orgasms because they are real now. I now have an appetite for sex and so it’s frequent. Before we would have sex twice in a month if we were lucky. Nowadays twice is the minimum requirement for the week. I am sure my husband is suspicious but he doesn’t say anything so it’s fine. Orgasms are a beautiful thing. It’s like an explosive in your body. An explosion of pleasure. Those few seconds are the most meaningful of life. Orgasms bring dimensions and edge to life. Orgasms give meaning to life. I sometimes think of Steven when I have an orgasm with my husband. It’s that Amy Winehouse curse, I am also starting to be unapologetic about my infidelity. It makes the lives of the people all around me better and most importantly I am happy. It has been a month since I have met up with Steven. I know I have to end things with him, he has become an addiction. What we have can’t be right for the immediate people in our lives. What we have is destined to fail. The problem is that I think I love him. I can’t stop thinking about him. He is all I think about. I am conflicted, torn in between. I have this fantasy that I want to explore with him. I plan to tie him up on the bed, get naked and sit on his face until he gives me multiple orgasms. I want to make him my bitch. I want to make him submit. I want to dominate him. My efforts thus far have been insufficient and my plan is in vain. I am meeting him on Thursday at his office and I don’t think that will be possible. This will be the last time I see him, he doesn’t know but I do. I love my family and I can’t carry on risking the life I worked so hard to build.

He told me to get dressed and that his secretary would be here soon. He was pensive and moved with great urgency. I lay naked on the couch and didn’t take him too seriously. What makes our affair great is the danger, the sense that it is forbidden and could damage a lot of lives. That is the pulse that kept everything moving. The chance to live life dangerously. It was seductive. It had a lure that both of us couldn’t resist. The fact that I am laying on his couch naked with his secretary on the way to the office, doesn’t move me, it doesn’t scare me. I am accustomed to the danger. Besides there are locks for unrequired entry and these locks seem to work just properly. We just had another session of mind blowing animal sex. We had a time constraint this time so we had to be efficient. Because I was adamant that this would be my last time doing this, I had to lead procedures. On the last run, I wanted to be ravished and pleasured to the maximum. I got in his office and sat on the chair. We engaged in pointless dialogue until his secretary went out. He stood up and went to the door to lock it. By the time he locked the door, I was already half-naked. My top was off indicating, “Let’s go!” He rushed to me and pressed his body onto mine and started kissing me. He kissed my lips, neck and made it to my breasts to which he caressed and fondled with them. He started kissing and sucking on my nipples, flicking them in a move that drove me absolutely wild. Sensing I would lose control. I interrupted him and created space in between us. I took off my skirt and panties and opened my legs. An invitation he took with both hands. He went down on me. It was the best cunnilingus I have ever had. With the tip of his tongue he stimulated my clitoris. Like a painter, the great Leonardo Da Vinci he moved his tongue left, right, and left, right in a gradual and clockwise manner and then it was rigorous and fast paced it left my mind in tatters. It was pulsating. He was concise, so engaged and he made me come. His tongue was like the tongue of the serpent. I was paralyzed by the pleasure. I indicated that I want him to come into me. While I masturbated, he took off his pants and underwear and in missionary position he started penetrating me. Sensing that he would come soon, I switched positions and went on all fours. He continued with the penetrating while I was groaning and moaning without a care in the world. At that moment I was free and liberated. I resided in the stars. I resided in forever. I was on the moon and it was pure pleasure. He signalled that he wanted to come. So I told him to wait for a bit. I adjusted myself and kneed down to give him a blow job. He moaned and groaned with his hands on my head controlling the motion. He told me he couldn’t hold it anymore and that his coming. I didn’t want him to come in my mouth so I stopped the activity. He came on my face. It was beautiful. It signalled the climax of our union. Of course he didn’t know that. It never occurred to him that it would be the last time seeing me naked.