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My Cheating Heart






By T. Yger

Copyright ©2023


He switches the light on. My hands cover myself, one leg crossing the other. I can't look at him even though he looks beautiful standing there.  


"Put your hands down." As always, his voice is gentle. "I want to see you."  

A shiver runs through me. I do as he asks, but slow. I am uncomfortable with my nudity,

always have been.  


"You are so gorgeous."  


The words are unexpected, even though his comments are always kind. I'm not used to hearing things like this. Something stirs inside me, low, in my lady parts. It isn't uncomfortable, just not familiar.  


"Look at me."  


I do. Again slow. I bring one hand up to my neck, caressing my hair. Keeping my elbows close, so my breasts won't sag as much. HE always says they are gross, hanging there, stretchmarks, uneven, out of shape. He just smiles, a small tilt to his head, his jaw firm but tender. His him pointing at me. No shame, no hiding, right out there for me to see, to enjoy. He isn't overly large, not as large as HIM, but he is beautiful.  


How can I be sitting here, naked, in front of this man who is not my husband? This isn't like me, but something inside me aches for his attention. And he has been so patient. He is kind, where HE is not. He is understanding, HE is not.  


"Do you want me?" His words send electricity through me. Yes, I want to scream, I want you, but something can't stop remembering HIM. I try to speak but the words catch in my throat.  


I emit a feeble, "I'm scared."  


"We can stop, if you want."  


How can he say that? How can he have so much control over himself? It is obvious that he wants what comes next, but he has never pushed me. Not like HIM. When HE is like that, only one thing can happen. Again, I feel myself slipping inside, there is an ache, a longing, I am so confused.  


He steps closer. His him sways a bit with the motion. I giggle. He notices, waggles it a bit more. Smiles at me. Tender.  


Then he is right in front of me, where I sit on the edge of the bed. My perch is high, His he touches my knee as he steps closer. A shiver runs through me. It is frightening, but delightful. I feel my body responding in ways it hasn't for a very long time. Oh, I want this man, but something inside me is still so attached to HIM and the promises I made so many years ago. Even though HE hasn't remembered them; promises, like cherish and fidelity.  


He steps closer. My legs move, allowing him, encouraging him, inviting him, and yet, my mind screams No, No, No, this isn't right. I need to stop. But I don't want to, don't know if I can now.  

His hands brush the outside of my thighs. That electricity again. I squirm.  


Then he is touching me. He, touching me there, with him. In a moment he will push inside me, and I will be a cheater.  


He leans in close. Nuzzles my neck. Why isn't he taking me? I am ready, oh so very ready.  

Then he whispers, "If you want me, take me."  


What is he saying? There is no choice. This is just going to happen. I want it to happen. I want it so bad, but he is giving me the choice. Making me take this step. I open myself a little wider.  


"Move closer if you want me," he still whispers. Goosebumps erupt down my neck and across my chest. My nipples stand hard, a mere inch from his. I feel him at the entrance to me, just touching me, caressing, teasing.  


He wants me to make the move, to penetrate myself with this betrayal to HIM. How can he ask this of me? I want to move forward; I want so bad to feel him fill me. But I hesitate. Once I do this, it is done, I am a cheater.  


But why must I live my life unfulfilled; forever committed to a mistake? Am I not making that mistake worse by continuing to honour it? HE never thinks of me, only HIMSELF. HE has never given me a choice, only expected me to follow, submit, endure. He has never done that, only walked beside me as we travelled the path to this place, this action, this choice. I slide my hips forward and feel him enter me. A wave of pleasure allows a gasp to escape me. I can't hold back; I need what he is offering. I thrust harder and he penetrates me deeper. Oh, my God, it feels so good.  


I pause, enjoying the feeling of our union, the press of his flesh against mine, from out and from within. And then he begins to move. I can't help but respond.  


Somewhere, deep in my core, I feel a flame erupt. It is not wholly unfamiliar; it stirs dormant memories. Memories I thought had long ago turned to cold, grey ash. They haven't. They blast hot technicolour into my brain. How love felt when I was young, eager, anxious, curious, unbridled. Un-nurtured for so many years, I am surprised by their intensity, how fresh they feel. How hot.  


The fire inside boils to a molten core and erupts from my womb, the center of my womanhood. It takes me to paradise.  


I lay back as wave after wave of ecstasy wash through me, over me, carry me away on a rocking, bucking, sea of intensity. In the distance I hear a cry, more a moan, long and drawn out. As it gets closer, I realize it is coming from me. I am so lost in the convulsions of pleasure tearing through my body I don't care that I am yelling, bucking hard against him. Driving him into me, onto me, we move as one, focused on a common goal. Then it blasts into my brain; he is totally focused on bringing me to this place. His every action is heightening my experience, bringing me to an ever increasing crescendo in this symphony of love. Then he pauses.  


I can't move. Can only lay there as the convulsions that racked me, ebb away, leaving a hollow, entirely pleasurable oasis within me. He leans close, kissing me up my stomach, my breasts, my neck. Then he whispers in my ear, words that tear up the oasis, make me gasp, make my feet clamp behind him, pull him closer yet.  


He says, "Want to do that again?"  


He hasn't finished, only wants me to enjoy this. In a thin voice I answer from the bottom of my being, "Yes, please."  


How can I tell him that this is all I want to do? Experience this, with him, over and over, forever, and ever. He withdraws. 'No!' my mind screams, 'I want more.' Then he begins whispering, but not in my ear, down there. And he takes me back to that rocking, humping sea where I drown; willingly.  


He takes me over waves, an endless storm. My body drips with sweat, my entire being exists only where he is giving me attention. Just when I think it is over and I can relax into the quiet, cool sleep, he brings me back to life, to this place I never knew existed. How can one person give so much, receive so much pleasure. This is so much more than the sex we are sharing; it is a state of being, a demonstration of his love and respect for me. Why have I not experienced this in all the years I devoted, wasted, to my marriage; my mistake to a man who never felt like this for me, wanted this for me? What kind of God would condemn me to less than this? What society, what judgement, would hold me to a youthful decision that was made without full knowledge of what a relationship really means? Maybe one built by people like HIM. Selfish, only able to attract people through deception, able to retain them only through collusion, coercion. I don't want to think about that. I only want to think about the waves of bliss coursing through me, carrying me away.  


Again, they ebb. Is he tiring? It feels like he has been pleasuring me for years. I feel him crawling along my body, kissing, caressing, attending to me. His weight is on me, and it is nice, comfortable. I feel safe, sated, and then he says, "One more time?"  


I feel him against me, the firmness of him pressing my thigh. He has been so focused on me, that he has not finished. I have been so focused on me that I have not considered his needs, his desires. I move to shift him off me, so I can bring the same pleasure to him, however he wants me to, but he stops me, nuzzles me. "No," he says, "today is you, all you."  


He knows this is new to me, that I am really, still a virgin to love. I don’t know how he came to be so tuned to me, so knowledgeable about all that is inside me. He looks so happy to have done what he has to me. How can I say no? As though I want to.  


"Yes," I whisper to him, "yes, again. Forever if you like."  


Joy breaks across his face. His bringing me to such a place of pleasure brings him pleasure. How could I not fall in love with a man like this. I move to allow him inside me again, move how I think will stimulate him, entice him, give him release, and that triggers another monumental wave of desire and intensity that opens the flood gates and allows the pleasure to again wash over me.  


This is the life I want. The life I deserve.  

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