My sick husband couldn't fuck me so I slept with someone else

I’ve been married to Mike for twelve years. He’s got epilepsy, always tired, always under the weather. Me? I’m a woman who’s never quite felt satisfied in the love department. Every time I try to get close, he’s like, “I’m wiped out,” or “I’m not feeling great.” It’s only ever on his terms, and honestly, I’ve never felt truly fulfilled with him. That is, until I met him.

I’d say I’m decently attractive, nothing to scoff at. One day, I’m at the grocery store, just picking up some stuff, when I lock eyes with this gorgeous guy. I must’ve stared too long because he noticed. He flashed me a smile, and I got all flustered and bolted out of there. Two days later, there he is again at the store. We’re stealing glances, and this time, he walks right up to me, asking where the laundry detergent is. I play it cool, pointing him to the top shelf. I reach up to show him, and he leans in close behind me. The second his arm brushes mine, it’s like a spark ignites. I’m burning up, but I’m shy, so I mumble something and hightail it out.

Turns out, he followed me home. I see him lingering near my doorstep later that day. Part of me is screaming, This is crazy, what if people find out? But another part of me… well, it’s been starving for this.

One morning, I try to get cozy with Mike before he heads to work. “Babe, come on,” I say, but he’s already halfway out the door, muttering about being late. I’m left there, frustrated, trying to take care of things myself when the doorbell rings. I figure it’s Mike forgetting something, so I rush to open it. Nope—it’s him, the guy from the store. He must’ve been watching, waiting for Mike to leave. I should’ve said no, but after years of feeling ignored, I couldn’t resist. I let him in.

The second the door shuts, it’s like a dam breaks. We’re all over each other, and it’s intense. My whole body feels alive, like it’s on fire. I’ve never felt this mix of thrill, fear, and pure want before. His lips are on mine, then my neck, my chest—he’s kissing me in ways that make me feel like I’m floating. He’s touching me everywhere, peeling off my clothes while shedding his own.

He whispers, “You ever try it from behind?” I admit I haven’t, and he just grins. “Good.” He guides me down, and when he starts teasing me with his tongue, I lose it. I’m shaking, overwhelmed, and then it happens—I feel this rush I’ve never felt before. I’m trembling, and he asks, “You ready?” I’m half-laughing, half-dazed, saying, “Ready for what? To lose my mind?” He starts slow, easing in, and yeah, it stings a bit at first, but then… oh, it’s like nothing I’ve ever known. I’m swept away, feeling things I didn’t know were possible. I’m a mess, in the best way, and he’s right there with me, matching every moment.

But it doesn’t stop there. He turns me around, and before I know it, he’s guiding himself to my lips. Normally, I’d be grossed out, but I’m so caught up in the moment, I’m all in. He’s just as into it, and when he starts pleasing me again, I’m done for. Mike never did anything like this—never made me feel this wanted. This guy? He’s a pro, no question. That day, I hit cloud nine three times. It was like I rediscovered what it means to feel alive, to feel like a woman.

We still meet up now and then, but we’re careful—hotels, never my place. He’s everything Mike isn’t, and I mean everything. So, I keep asking myself: is this my fault, or is it Mike’s for leaving me in the cold all these years?