Cheating Wife Phone Sex: My Husband Left Town and I Did Not Waste It

My husband left for Chicago on Thursday morning, kissed my forehead like I was his kid sister, and said he would be back Sunday night. By Thursday evening I was already climbing the walls. It is not that I do not love him. It is that I am a woman with needs and he has not really seen me in months, not the way a man is supposed to see his wife.

I did something I had never done before. I downloaded one of those dating apps, made a profile with no face pictures, and wrote one honest line. Married, lonely, looking for one perfect night, no strings. Within an hour I had forty messages. Most of them were gross. One of them was not.

His name was Marcus. His pictures showed a grown man with kind eyes and a real smile, and his first message just said, you deserve better than a weekend alone. We talked all evening, flirty but sweet, and by midnight he said, let me take you to dinner tomorrow. A real date. I said yes before I could talk myself out of it, and my hands were shaking after I hit send.

Friday night I told my husband on the phone that I was staying in with a movie. Then I put on the burgundy dress he bought me two years ago and never sees me wear, did my hair, my makeup, the whole thing. I felt like a different woman walking into that hotel bar. Marcus stood up when he saw me, and the way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the room, I almost started crying right there. Nobody had looked at me like that in so long.

Dinner was perfect. He asked about me, actually listened, laughed at my stories. Under the table his knee pressed against mine and I did not move away. After dessert he said, I got a room upstairs. No pressure, he said quickly, we can just have a nightcap. I looked him dead in the eye and said, I did not get this dressed up for a nightcap, Marcus. He smiled like I had made his whole year.

The elevator ride was torture in the best way. His hand on the small of my back, my heart hammering. The second the room door closed he had me against it, kissing me like he had been waiting years, not hours. I kissed him back desperately, hungrily, like a woman who had been starving. My dress hit the floor and he just stared, then picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me to the bed.

He worshipped me. That is the only word for it. Slow kisses down my neck, my breasts, my stomach, until he settled between my thighs and ate my pussy like it was his favorite meal in the world. I came within minutes, crying out, clutching the sheets, and he did not stop, he kept going until I came a second time, shaking and whimpering his name. I had forgotten I could feel like that.

When he finally slid inside me I wrapped my legs around him and held on tight. He filled me up so deep and moved so slow, like he wanted to memorize every second. I told him, do not be gentle, I need this, and he groaned and drove into me harder, the headboard banging the wall, both of us too far gone to care who heard. I came a third time with my nails in his back, and he followed right after, pulsing deep inside me while I clung to him.

We lay tangled for an hour, talking in whispers, his fingers tracing patterns on my bare shoulder. He said, you are incredible, you know that. I said, I had forgotten. And I meant it. When I got home Saturday afternoon I felt guilty, I will not lie. But I also felt alive again, like someone had turned the lights back on inside me.

I keep thinking about his hands, his mouth, the way he looked at me. If you are lonely too, if your husband does not see you anymore, I understand exactly how you feel. Maybe we can be lonely together on a call, and I can tell you every filthy detail I left out. I am waiting, baby.