A married woman anonymously takes us through, step by step, her daily double life. Cindy Hawkins (not her real name) is a cheater. Take a look into the real life of a married woman with a devoted husband, and her shameless cheating.
Over the coming weeks, we will be publishing the spin tingling results of the completed surveys from members of our online dating site. Respondents include singles and married people who have made choices to turn their fantasies into realities.
It’s Monday morning, the time is 730am, and at last the long and mundane weekend is over. Cindy lies awake gazing at the ceiling for about 10 minutes before impatiently sliding out from under her husbands embrace.
Yes, I cheat on my husband in a calculating and deceptive way and will say or do anything to avoid suspicion. Go ahead, judge me if you will, I know you’ve thought about cheating too. Flirting with men was about as far as I would take things, I thought I would always be strong enough to know when not to cross the line, and return home like a good little wife, until I was introduced to someone at work and realized an instant chemical connection. . .
The affair started in the office kitchen when we would both go to make coffee each morning. Things intensified with a few naughty emails, followed by cocktails after work on several occasions.
Twice a week – Monday and Wednesday at 630pm after work, we meet at a cheap motel on the highway just outside of town, my skin quivers as I drive to the motel. As I collect the room key, my heart pounds through my chest. There is something so pleasurably unproblematic about simmering life’s procedures down to pure physicality. Our sex is nasty and frantic, and I am happy to risk being found out. His torso is alien to me, so different, so strong. The name of his wife tattooed on his chest is even more exhilarating knowing it’s not just me completely throwing caution to the wind.
My husband is pretty out of touch with reality and would never suspect me of acting in such a trampish manner. Simple excuses like, going out with the girls, or working back late is all it takes to secure a couple of hours of betrayal. As I arrive home, my husband is often hoping to make love, but I don’t feel ashamed, perhaps when it’s all over I will.
Apart from our twice a week hotel meets, sex at work is the only other feasible option. This is very convenient for me as I can easily make it home from work on time without tripping any suspicion detectors. The last thing anyone would suspect is for me to be doing it on my hands and knees on the grey commercial carpet tiles at 1130am in a locked office. It’s like a ritual, the first thing he does is bends me over his desk, (my underwear already removed when driving to work) I have become his office whore, but keeping my full body orgasms quiet is the biggest challenge.
Everything has become too erotic, I am smart enough to know when to call it a day, a secret of such proportion is too large to sweep under the carpet. I am becoming too focused on him and the sex, it occurs to me the grand scheme of damage this could have ( and probably already has) on my other life. The secret hot emails, the dangerous stares and groping must stop. . .
I decide to quit my job without any notice, and cancel my secret email account.
