I lay back on my bed - our bed - the warm afterglow still infusing my body and spirit. I am naked, spent, wanting absolutely nothing more in the present moment as I sift through the events of the past few precious, exciting hours. My nipples harden as I close my eyes and recall his cock, so glorious in its impossible hardness, droplets pulled down by gravity from the tip of his beautiful manhood, the viscous fluid seemingly suspended in mid-air between us by a string of its own making. A tangible manifestation of his desire, complementing his erection. My heart begins to pound again as if he were still here. God how I wish he were, how I wish I could taste his lips, his mouth, his manhood so hard for me; yes, me.

Thoughts dart suddenly to my dear husband, Colin. A pang of guilt hits me and begins to rise up, threatening to destroy the moment and kidnap my heart, my soul. My feelings, so strong for my lover, fight with my fierce love for Colin. Love, but not lust. Only my lover can satisfy the need, the intense, screaming feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever the text icon lights up on my hidden app. A feeling that, when our next tryst has been arranged, becomes so all-consuming that it overwhelms everything. I literally cannot focus. Everything swims before my eyes. I have to fight hard to concentrate on what Colin or the kids are saying to me, every nerve ending running toward the release that only Darren can give me.

It started innocently enough. Fifteen years of marriage, fifteen wonderful years, and yet something had changed. I'm certain that neither of us anticipated it happening. It was gradual. The sex became more routine, less frequent. No one's fault. Everyone's fault. Nature, perhaps. I began, as so many no doubt do, to browse online, discovering a secret wonderland of eroticism and beauty. I found the images and videos terribly exciting at first, and brought myself to many an orgasm, legs hooked over the arms of the chair in front of my desk. Over time, however, the novelty faded, and the fare seemed to have a particular sameness, which failed to arouse me as intensely. I needed more.

All this time, Colin and I continued to have sex, and when it was good, it was very good. But those moments were becoming increasingly rare, and I sensed that he, too, was growing more and more dissatisfied. But still we soldiered on, as you're supposed to do, I guess. My love for him remained steadfast; our times outside of the bedroom were wonderful. And yet as the days and months went by, I felt an emptiness begin to well up inside me. My hunger was becoming undeniable. And so I progressed, setting up a profile on a site for like-minded people At first I was motivated by curiosity and the need to indulge fantasies more directly. I wasn't looking, or ready, to cheat. That was a line I couldn't cross.

And then I met Darren. That wasn't his online name, of course. I found that out in due time. It started with a little harmless flirting and quickly progressed to late night and mid-day chats. They started innocently enough, with each of us opening up gradually about ourselves and our lives. Looking back, I now realize that the intimacy developing between us in those conversations was in many ways worse than the naughty talk. I was exposing myself to him, not in a physical but in an emotional way. And he to me. We were, it turned out, in similar situations. Neither ready to cheat physically, but after a few months, both of us were cheating emotionally. I began to think about him during the day, and in the evening, and when pinned beneath my husband as he fucked me as furiously as he knew how to do at this point in our marriage.

It was I who made the first move. I proposed coffee. Innocent enough. He hesitated at first, and then agreed. The spark when we met at that out-of-the-way little indie shop on the other side of the university was shocking to me. As we sat across the table from one another my heart was literally racing and I'm sure I was flushed. It was all I could do to keep my hands from shaking and spilling the coffee. I felt thrilled and as young as the students in the shop. Alive, wanted, attractive, sexy. He gave me a demure peck on the cheek in the parking lot. I ran to our bedroom and screamed his name as I came.

I knew right then that I had to have him.

Our first meeting was at a hotel. I will never forget how he undressed me. Slowly, taking time to pet, kiss, smell, lick, and gaze into my eyes. He told me how sexy I was, and how much I turned him on. When he lowered his pants, his body revealed the truth of that statement. He was hard, so hard - for me. I felt sexier than I can remember being in a long, long time. His tongue brought me to orgasm after orgasm. The morning stretched into afternoon, as I took him in my mouth, tentatively at first and then more hungrily. A secret part of me was being unlocked, something that I thought was dead.

And yet, there was one more boundary to cross. I wanted this more than anything, and realized that I was willing to risk everything for it, but until I parted my legs and begged him to take me, I had deceived myself into thinking I hadn't really betrayed my marriage. And so, when that moment came, it was a swirl of emotions - raw desire, the need for validation, guilt, a touch of self-reproach, an adrenaline rush.

Ultimately, as it will, desire won out, and he slid his cock into me, easing in slowly, bottoming out, gazing deeply into my eyes, and whispering how beautiful I was, how beautiful this was. He felt perfect, and as we fucked, I could feel all those emotions welling out of me. He pulled out and sprayed his cum on my breasts and I literally began to sob as my own orgasm washed over me.

We carried on like this for a few months, both of us getting away when we could (easier for me as a non-working mother). The intensity of our lovemaking grew, the bond between us strengthening. It wasn't lost on me that our erotic progression was the opposite of Colin's and mine. From time to time I was yanked back to reality by the guilt that just wouldn't entirely leave me alone, but the pull of Darren's and my passion was stronger and won every battle.

I don't know why I wanted it - to bring our coupling into my marital bed. It was certainly crossing a very big line. Something inside me was pulling me down into an unabashed, uninhibited erotic state, one where boundaries were made to be tested and new frontiers explored. On the appointed day, which was today, he arrived via the back door, having cut through a path in the woods behind our backyard. I led him immediately upstairs and we tore our clothes off. No romantic lovemaking this time. It was pure animal instinct driving me forward. He managed to fish a condom out of his pocket and laid it on the bedside table. Our coupling was frantic, consumed by a madness that would only be cured by our union on this bed, in this room. I thought about poor Colin, of course, but that only made me wetter, made me ache more, made my nipples, my skin, my cunt more sensitive, more needy. I begged Darren to fuck me like he had never fucked me before, to claim me once and for all as his, while I claimed him as well. He seemed harder than I've ever seen him; for my part, I know I've never been wetter, or more ready for him.

He turned to reach for the condom and I stopped him, looking into his eyes and panting. No. Pleading, imploring him to take me bare. Nothing, absolutely nothing, between us now. It was time for our union to be complete, for the last artificial barrier to fall away. My alter ego flashed betrayal into my consciousness, and for once, I confronted it head on. I acknowledged it and knocked it back, grabbing Darren and guiding him into me. I was alive as he slid into me and I received him, skin on skin, natural, raw, beautiful.

He cried out that he was about to cum. I had mentally banished poor Colin to the guest bedroom, as all norms were now to be shattered. "Cum in me!" I screamed. "Fill me with your seed. I want you dripping out of me all day, all night. I want us to be one." That shot us both over the edge, and I nearly blacked out as I cried out my love for Darren and he emptied himself deep into my vessel.

We lay in an embrace and kissed softly. He moved his hands across me tenderly and told me how beautiful and sexy I was, and how he had never, ever experienced anything like that. All too reluctantly we parted, and minutes later the ache was in me again, made tolerable by the certainty that we would once again be together as soon as circumstances allow.

I realize I am sobbing softly. My arousal has returned. I reach for the drawer and pull out the lube, rubbing some onto my clit and quickly bringing myself to yet another climax. I tuck the bottle back in its hiding place and strip the bed. Still naked, I put fresh linens on, fluff the pillows, head to the bathroom and into the shower. As much as I would like to have his smell on me for the rest of the day, I must take care to wash him away. As I work the soap over my body, I continue to reflect. I won't leave Colin but something has changed. There is something growing inside me that I cannot control. Or perhaps I can; it's just that I choose to embrace it, to run to the roar that I realize now is my other home.

I towel off and climb into my suburban housewife clothes. I realize I can, and will, do this, that I can make this work. I have no desire to hurt Colin, but there is no reason he should ever have to know. Today was a lark. I will endeavor to take greater care. I head out to run some errands and pick the kids up from after school. Colin will be home when we return, and my other life will reassert itself.

I pull out of the driveway and head out on my way.

In all the swirl of sex, passion, and emotion, the condom was quite forgotten. It sits in its place on the bedside table.