Letter from a Cheating Housewife: Cuckoldry or Adultery

 

Dear Shango,


I have a question that I would love to ask you.  But before presenting you the question, I would first like to share with you a  real story.


For almost a month now, I have been cheating on my husband with a co-worker of mine.  I use the word cheat because it is a more favourable word to use than adultery.  Adultery always sounds to me like something ancient and outdated, as a relic of the Stone Ages. Yes, I did cheat on my husband.  It wasn't something I was proud of, but for the brief period that it happened, I can honestly say that I had the best fun a woman in her mid-thirties can ever enjoy.


My co-worker and I have been friends for months, ever since he got transferred to our office branch.  He, too, is married, but our relationship never went beyond our place of work.  He knows nothing of my husband, neither do I of his wife.  One afternoon, he invited me to have lunch with him.  We often did that, so it wasn't a big deal.  Sometimes we went in groups with other co-workers and often exchanged anecdotes or traded gossip about other work colleagues.  That afternoon, however, we decided to take things further.



It was never my intention that we would end up having sex that afternoon.  The way it happened was that we ate lunch and then realised we had more time on our hands.  My co-worker (Mike is his name) mentioned that he had an apartment a block from our office building that he shared with a buddy of his.  It didn't occur to me to question why he would have something like that when he was married, but the question flew by my head.  He wanted to go over and make sure the place was secure and asked if I won't mind tagging along.  


Seeing that I had nothing pressing to do, I decided to accompany him.  I had no thought or idea regarding what would occur when we got there.  Or maybe I have, and I simply wasn't thinking straight.


We arrived at his friend's apartment, and Mike went around inspecting the rooms while I opened my jacket while I sat down in the living room waiting.  Mike returned, but for some reason, I was reluctant about us leaving so soon.  I have no idea what led to us kissing, but that was what happened seconds later.  We kissed, and then Mike carted me to the bedroom.


We ended up fucking.  Mike was such an incredible lover.  I never thought I would end up enjoying our tryst that afternoon, but such was the way it felt to me.  We concluded our business, cleaned ourselves up, wore back our clothes, and left the apartment.  There was no shame or guilt.  We resumed our friendly chatter as we left the building and returned to our work office.  None of our co-workers suspected anything at all.



I harboured no regret even when I closed up for work and returned home.  I kissed my husband, and we shared tales regarding our day, except I left out the part about having had sex with Mike. 


Two days passed before Mike and I enjoyed lunch again.  This time we talked about what we had done the day before.  He said he'd had no regret what he had done; I told him the same too.  He asked if I won't mind us doing it again, to which I said why not.  We hurried about our meal, then went over and had sex at his friend's apartment once again.  There was no rush this time.  We gave each other exquisite pleasure.  I whimpered and made guttural, animalistic noises that I never knew was existed in me.  He pounded me from behind, grabbed my hair, and fucked me like I hadn't been fucked in a long while.


Don’t get me wrong, my husband and I have a fantastic relationship; it wasn’t my wish to want to hurt him.  But this was sex, nothing more.  Or that was how I earlier thought it would be.


A week later, and Mike and I are still carrying out our clandestine relationship.  Sometimes we won’t even meet for lunch, or we would have lunch separately so as not to arouse suspicion, then meet later at his friend’s crib.  As it turns out, I never once met his friend there.  I don’t know if the apartment thing had been a ruse to bring me there to fuck, but I didn’t care because I was enjoying the way things were going.



But I was starting to have a weakness—I was enjoying my time with Mike than I was with my husband.  Mike and I never discussed how far we intended to take things; the thought was never an issue between us.  By the second week, we weren’t just having sex during lunch hours, but went beyond that.  During weekends, I would tell my husband that I’m going to buy something at the supermarket and meet with Mike in some secluded spot for sex.  He always wore a condom, and I made sure to discard the evidence once we’re done.


Then came a fateful day in the fourth week that I got careless.  Mike sent me a text one Saturday to say that he had to go out of town and won’t meet with me.  I was taking a shower at the time.  My husband saw the text when it came to my phone and read it.  He showed me the text and then asked what was going on.


That was the day I got busted.  It was also the day I came clean about my secret affair with my co-worker.



I expected my husband to be mad and upset.  He was at first, but that lasted half the day.  He began asking me intimate questions about the number of times Mike and I have had sex, the sort of positions we did, who climaxed first . . . I realised he was taking genuine pleasure in the stuff I was telling him.  I called Mike that evening to tell him that my husband was now aware and that I was afraid of how he might take things.  To my utter surprise, my husband was happy about it.  He talked about wanting to meet with Mike and even expressed an urgent wish of wanting to watch us having sex.


That is my story that I wanted to share with you.  And now comes the question that I want to ask you: when it comes to my husband wanting to watch me in bed with my lover, when is it considered adultery and when is it cuckoldry?












Comments

  1. Fantastic Storie, I Love this situations, Voyeur For Ever!!

    ReplyDelete

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