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Why I Cheated (Cheat)

I am uncertain of how graphic to get on this blog. I don’t want to sound like porn but I do want to sound erotic. And not stupid erotic but real erotic. And interesting.  You will never hear everything that has happened. You wont’ know what I changed and what is not completely accurate. I may make some stuff up completely. I may even delete this so it’s not out there too long.

Why did I first cheat? He cheated first, and she was everything I wasnt.

She had tiny cute breasts and a tiny scrawny ass. Tatts. She was near aneroxic. Younger than us. (Yes, I knew who she was). I would have fucked her if I were him too but I figured she was way too bat-shit crazy and seemed too dirty. She had some mileage on her from years in the past. Daddy issues I think. I wish I could say more.

She Looked A Little Like This

She Looked A Little Like This

And this may or may not be me.

And this may or may not be me.

Of course she has never been pregnant and never had a child. She never felt the effects of gravity. If she did eat a ton of pizza nothing would happen to her body. She didn’t know what it was like to do laundry all day and make meals for fussy eaters and then supposed to fuck that night.

Being lied to was what hurt. Being deceived, And of course, being chosen over someone else. They did things together that we never had in all our years of having sex. How did I know this? I stumbled onto something. I have learned about deleting traces, deleting records. He was of course not smart like this. That’s okay, I don’t want a smart cheater. I read over what he did with the skinny one many times. It has made a memory burn in my brain.

Things blew up. I interrogated him, asked the same questions many times. We did counseling. I was torn on what to do. Six months of therapy and we stopped, but  I still see this same therapist now. Yes, he puts me on meds, no I won’t kill your rabbit.

After I thought we had worked through it, we had crazy make up sex. I wanted to fuck him harder. I wanted to make him forget about her. I realized it was hurt, angry sex. I thought I could screw and suck and fuck her out of him. I thought of doing what they did together, but then I would never know if he liked her more than me. My brain went crazy. Then depression came, and then remorse (stages of grief, my therapist said)

I keep asking myself why? I need to just accept it was ‘because she was there and it isn’t that complicated really.  I blame him, I blame me, I think too much.

Through the years, our sex had grown methodical. it was almost like there was checklist. Start with oral for him always, and then, ‘ding’, like a timer went off, we switch to oral for me. Then ‘ding’. We check off thru the typical positions, and hurry so we can be done to watch TV.  We tried to spice it up at times with somethings I might talk about later.

So, now I fear I have become like this skinny woman who came into our lives. This mystery woman who he chose over me, and now I want to be chosen over other wives.

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