I was searching through my computer for old stuff i’d written earlier this year, and this is one of them. Just a story about cheating spouses and how they do what they do. I tried to write both A man and woman’s reason and strategy for their cheating ways Enjoy.
Wedding bands representing two different marriages. They both sat on ice, literally, in the ice bucket near the coffee machine and complimentary hygienic essentials. Playing on the television was a recap of the presidential election, which served as background noise to drown out the moaning from both myself and the woman seated on top of me.
My cell phone began to vibrate, scattering across the end table until falling to the floor. I could care less, It took me three long months to get my co-worker in bed, and nothing was important enough to ruin the moment. She felt the same way, turning her phone completely off. We both had our stories well prepared. Believable, as we spent an entire week constructing it to be one-hundred-percent foolproof, just as long as we could remember every bit of detail if needed to be explained again. It was laid out so well that we mentally fooled ourselves into believing it.
I hate to do this, and I know she feels the same way, but our personal lives are about as important as our careers, as our affair could damage pretty much everything we have in our separate lives. She was married with two children a beautiful home, and on her way to being promoted. To come out and speak of our affair would tear her family apart, along with the joint bank accounts and financial plans set between the two for their children’s future college tuitions. She didn’t want to go through the troubles of custody, child support and visitation rights, so it was best that our little sexcapades be kept secret.
My marriage died long ago, yet I still wore the ring and kissed my wife on the forehead and spooned every night while laying in bed with her. I’d become an expert at faking love, that every bit of our marriage had become an act. Sure, she still felt the same for me as she did when saying our marriage vows, but I could never look her in the eyes and tell her that I’d fallen out of love with her. I didn’t have a good enough reason. It could’ve been her weight gain, or the fact that she can’t give birth, no matter how many times we’ve tried. I just didn’t love her anymore, and I was a coward for not telling her when I first felt it.
Yet still, I went through every day as if everything was fine between us. One would never know how unsatisfied I was with my wife. Upon observation of our home and relationship, you’d think we were a normal happily married couple. That’s how good I became at hiding shit.
I had become something else. I climaxed at the same time as my mistress, feeling not one ounce of regret afterwards. I could do it again and not feel bad about it, and she was just as cool and professional about it as I was.
We gave each other compliments on our sexual performance while taking a light shower together in the bathroom. Soon afterwards, we were back in our clothes, seated on both ends of the bed, texting our partners the same excuse…
“Sorry, My phone was in my jacket, on the backseat while I was driving… Be back soon.”
We would go about doing this every Friday, and our partners would never find out about it. Yeah, we were professional cheaters and seen nothing wrong with that. Best to be good at it than get caught. The only thing that bothered me was going home and having to have sex with my wife afterwards. I’m a sick motherfucker? Maybe. Why don’t you tell me how you do it?
Me? I plan it all out a week in advance, telling my husband that I’m going out with a group of coworkers to a restaurant, and maybe a comedy show, you know, Girls Night Out.
I make the other guy pay for the hotel and restaurant bill, so that I don’t have a paper trail of where I’d been, being as though my husband and I have a shared checking account. My best friend knows what I’m doing, and she’ll cover for me. She’s always the first person my husband would call if ever suspicious, and she’ll tell him the same story that I did.
I time everything out, the start and end times of comedy shows, along with how long it takes to get back home. This may seem so exhausting to everyone else, but its small details like that which could get you caught. I try not to stay out too late, and when I am with my little boyfriend on the side, I get straight to the point.
Our hotel stays are always out of town to avoid running into someone we know. If I ever have to pay for something, it’s always in cash and change, never cards or checks. I call my husband every hour to check in, never outside of where I am, but further away from the building to avoid any noise or conversation in the background. If he calls and I fail to answer, I have a set list of automatic response templates that send to him after every call. Too much work? It’s well worth it. You could learn from me.
I keep a second set of my normal body wash that I use at home, along with the only brand of perfume I ever use. Men like to hug and kiss when you get in, smelling to see if you have an unfamiliar scent on you.
I wash thoroughly, and never let the guy cum in me or near my hair. It’s best to carry a bag of hygiene products in trunk of the car, along with a pack of chewing gum to get rid of the scent on alcohol on my tongue. As i said before, I make sure to wash thoroughly, just in case my husband wants sex when I return home. The old “I’m tired and not in the mood” excuse is never good to use, so it’s best to let him have it and kill any suspicion.
Also, I never EVER let my guy spank or suck on any portion of my body. Marks of any kind can easily get you caught, so I rule out all the kinky shit. One last kiss before reapplying my lipstick and we part ways in the hotel lobby.
Walk through the front door with my story planned out in my head, ready for action if my husband begins to question. My number one rule when coming in the house is this: Never ignore or blow off the hubby when returning home. Your distance and lack of eye contact will show that you have done something shameful. Even if I don’t feel like it, I hug, kiss and flirt with him a bit, asking about his day while giving him a light shoulder massage.
Try five years of friends with benefits and secret boyfriends, and you too will become a master of cheating like I am. Oh, I almost forgot my golden rule: Never say names, as you may accidentally call your husband by your second lover’s name. Instead, call them all something cute, like “Babe.”
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