Straight Male / 33
This past weekend, I cheated on my wife of ten years, and it wasn't fun, or kinky, or fulfilling. It was me lying to my wife, telling her I couldn't sleep and instead driving to another girl's house; it was me sitting in the truck shaking in her driveway; it was awkward kissing a pretty limp cock despite trying everything I could think of to keep it up; it was this girl hurting me twice trying to get me into it; it was a lackluster orgasm I gave myself on her bed after beating my cock for 15 minutes straight. Sure, it was "just a blowjob," but it matters. I gave what rightfully belongs to my wife to someone else and it wasn't even good in the slightest.
And then it was feeling sick to my stomach for hours, wandering the store aimlessly for the bottle of juice I assured my wife I'd pick up for her while I was out. It was the girl I cheated with telling me that "we shouldn't have done that" and getting upset because she could "tell from my eyes that I was sad." All this build up, anticipation, years of flirting and near misses that just seemed to make us want it more, for that terrible experience.
And now I get to feel nauseous at work when the memory comes back to me every few hours or when I'm sitting on the couch with my wife wondering when she's going to find out. Across the dinner table dropping my gaze from hers because she probably already knows something's up. Randomly seeing images of this other girl bobbing up and down or licking my cock when my mind wanders a little bit and not being able to enjoy it in the least.
I'm a little angry with all the stories I've read on this site; here, everyone's justified for cheating. I wasn't, we had no problems in the bedroom, or with money, or kids, or really anything. I just wanted a little more is all, I needed my ego stroked a bit more, needed someone else to want me.
Well, there you go. A man who royally fucked up who's conscience might shave five years off his life 'cause he's too chicken shit to tell anyone in real life and take responsibility for putting his cock where it don't belong. Have fun, folks.
And then it was feeling sick to my stomach for hours, wandering the store aimlessly for the bottle of juice I assured my wife I'd pick up for her while I was out. It was the girl I cheated with telling me that "we shouldn't have done that" and getting upset because she could "tell from my eyes that I was sad." All this build up, anticipation, years of flirting and near misses that just seemed to make us want it more, for that terrible experience.
And now I get to feel nauseous at work when the memory comes back to me every few hours or when I'm sitting on the couch with my wife wondering when she's going to find out. Across the dinner table dropping my gaze from hers because she probably already knows something's up. Randomly seeing images of this other girl bobbing up and down or licking my cock when my mind wanders a little bit and not being able to enjoy it in the least.
I'm a little angry with all the stories I've read on this site; here, everyone's justified for cheating. I wasn't, we had no problems in the bedroom, or with money, or kids, or really anything. I just wanted a little more is all, I needed my ego stroked a bit more, needed someone else to want me.
Well, there you go. A man who royally fucked up who's conscience might shave five years off his life 'cause he's too chicken shit to tell anyone in real life and take responsibility for putting his cock where it don't belong. Have fun, folks.
- That's Juicy! 21
- Remove It! 0
