Open Letter about Flings

You thought, "I never knew he'd find out. I thought I'd have my fling. He'd wouldn't ever know, and after it was over, I'd make it up to him."

He knows.

Husbands always find out. Always. They'll notice it when you begin to act differently. It's the little things in the beginning. Working late or taking unexpected overnight business trips, if you have a job. Unexplained nights out with the girls. Housework not done, beds not made. Dirty dishes, soaking in the sink, piled high. Phone calls, abruptly cut off. Extra mileage on the car. Lots of little things.

First, you'll slight him in some little ways. Compare him unfavorably with a former boyfriend. Start little arguments. Have fights, so you can cry and run off to 'be alone.' Do some small things you know he doesn't like.

You always have a precise, well-thought-out timeline of lies to cover your tracks.

Your lover is making you feel sexy. Your husband obviously didn't make you feel so sexy, otherwise, your lover wouldn't have gotten to you the way he did.

Pretty soon you're so caught upon your affair you can't see what you're doing to your loving man. You didn't see it because you were caught up in your deceptions and mind-games.

He knew. He felt it over time. He dug up the facts.

He didn't need to hire a private investigator or wire the house for sound and video cameras. Just followed you as you went to the motel to meet your lover. Checked your pills or purse. Looked at your mail or e-mail. Announced another trip that he didn't really go on, to watch your lover walk into your house and stay all night.

That's the problem with cheating. At first you're trying to hide everything, so you act differently than you would. What if your man discovers you have another man's leaving inside you? So you shower in the middle of the day or afternoon, but your hair is damp. Refuse him oral sex or risk giving him sloppy-seconds? Maybe leave some of his cologne on your body but try to pass it off as a new perfume.

You always have an excuse for time away from your man.

Later, you begin to feel some kind of power, in that you're getting away with it, so you relax. To ease your guilt, you begin to give more and more sex to your man, maybe doing more kinky things that he never got from you before. Start to wear sexier clothes that he never saw on you. Becoming more vocal and using dirty talk. Carrying condoms around in your purse.

Later, you start to feel like your husband must be less than an man because you're fooling him so easily and he doesn't have a clue. Maybe you start cutting him off for sex so your lover can get more and more of your willing body. Maybe you start doing your sex inside your home, in your bed, because, after all, he's such a clueless wimp. Forgetting about covering up your lover's bite marks on your breasts or thighs.

But, by this time, your man has it figured out, way before you know.

He loved and trusted you, with all your joys and faults. But, now he can't ever trust you and your impulsive, lying decisions again.

You are alone now (as far as trust goes, even if not physically), as he is likely to be unwilling to rescue you from your own future stupid, impulsive decisions.

He may confront you, risking denial or faked-rage. He may have photos or a video. Or he may just leave—with or without a note—knowing you already have your 'mess of pottage.' Knowing that your actions show that you don't want/need him any more.

If he stays, you will likely feel you can re-win your man with showers of sexual favors, seductions, and "I'm so sorry" protestations of "It will never happen again."

But, of course, given this first time, you will be strongly tempted to cheat with another big, hard, male penis again, because, of course, you can. You'll do it:

In 4 or 5 months

Then, a month or so sooner

Then again, within a few weeks

A longer 'fling' involving 2-3 cocks

Next, 'pulling a train' of men

Finally, regular gang-fucks on a weekly or even daily basis.

All completely rationalized, justified and excused, of course.

No thanks, he doesn't want the near-certainty of a gang-banging slut 'hot-wife', making constant excuses while screwing her way through his 'post-fling' life. Nor does he want a constant stream of random men parading and fucking through your home and future love-making.

Being a cheating sex-fucking lover is far easier than being a committed husband:

Sex providers don't have to take care of 'honey-do' lists.

They don't have to go off to work, attend meetings and listen to bosses, commute, work overtime, get dirty or travel for business.

Lovers don't have to show boredom or tiredness with the routine of everyday life.

They don't have to do home repairs or cut the grass.

They don't have to hold their spouse's hands or cuddle them when they are blue.

They don't have to swallow their own pride when their spouse 'goes off' for no apparent reason.

Lovers don't have to suffer through days or weeks of 'freeze-out' for spouse-imagined slights and insults.

All a cheating sex-fucker has to have is a bigger-than-average hard cock, a smooth line of talk and a willingness to take advantage of a married woman's moments of weakness.

All the married woman has to do—after she 'decided' to have an affair or a fling—is show off her tits, spread open her legs, fuck back at her sex-lover with her drooling wet cunt.

Plus lie and lie when she gets back to what was once her man.

Over and over.

All people lie. Children, men and women.

But—and this is the most dangerous to sexual and marriage-based relationships—WOMEN LIE TO THEMSELVES.

Just renaming the lies as:

Rationalizing

Justifications

Exceptions to the rule

Crying & pretended anger or rage

Blaming 'him,' then seeking a false revenge

Making carefully-thought-out plans, maybe with trusted girlfriends

Making excuses.

These are all ways to dress-up an emotional, impulsive decision as a rationalized, justified, intellectual one.

Eventually, a woman learns to lie about the lies she lied about and the trust between two married partners becomes utterly lost.

LOVE is abstract, which, without trust, affection and self-control, is just empty breath:

I love you

I love only you

You are my life

I would gladly give my life for you, if only you would love me

There's no one out there that can compare to you

That's MY name on the marriage license, so you're mine

Yours is the only cock I'll ever want

The wedding vows bind us together forever

Love is so romantic, I'll never get enough

And so on.

ALL LIES, if you are determined to seek slutty-sex from another man or woman, outside your marriage vows and promises.

LUST is concrete, in-your-face (or in your cheating cunt), displaying a total disregard of anything except I, I, I, ... Me, Me, Me ... I want, I want, I want ... Right-now, Right-now, Right-now ... to 'scratch an itch' between my legs:

Oh honey, I'm so sorry.

This was just once, to get it out of my system, it will never happen again.

It was just recreational sex.

Come on, a little fuck with another guy is no big thing.

I didn't want to, but my body just reacted and I fucked him/her, you can understand that.

He tweaked my nipples and an electric shock ran all over me, so we just ...

So what, it's all in the past, so let's just forget about it.

Wedding certificate, oh, it's just a piece of paper.

Wedding vows, just empty words that no one remembers now.

I deserve a little excitement in my boring life.

It was all just sexy flirting and sexy talk, until he slipped his finger in my pussy and I went a little crazy and then ...

I decided we needed to spice-up our marriage.

His cock completely filled me up and it went in so far, right into my womb, that I lost control.

You were gone and you know how impulsive I am when you're not around, so you can see what I just had to do.

.

You want me to be happy, don't you?

It was just harmless flirting, honey, and, well, OK, it went too far, but ...

He showed me the big bulge in his trousers and suddenly, I just had to have it, just once, to get it out of my fevered imagination.

I got curious and I asked to see his big hard cock, and, well, it happened, but ...

It was just like a big, dark cloud went over me.

II taught it was funny when showed him my rings, and we had a good laugh while he screwed me.

We'll keep my 'fling' a secret, no one has to know except you and me, right?

I didn't have any control of myself after the first kiss.

You were supposed to be there to stop me from going over the line, so its really all your fault!

By the time all your friends were feeling me up, my blood was boiling and I turned into a slut, but it was just once, so ...

I didn't actually say, 'yes,' so during all those days and nights, it was really rape, wasn't it?

He made me do it because he was too strong, so I just had to give in.

Both of his friends had big cocks, too, and together they were so overpowering that I just had to give in and let myself be sexed up.

I love you but, right now, I'm not in love with you!

And so on.

ALL LIES. Planned, rationalized, justified, excused lies.

Finally, THE TRUTH:

To finally get away from my imagined so-boring, wimpy husband and his plain vanilla sex, for a glorious slutty time.

To be a wicked, naked, slutty woman for a while, as I thought I remembered from school (but I really wasn't a slut, back then ... was I?).

The chance to have one or more big, hard cock(s) inside my naked, drooling-wet pussy, with an exciting bad man or men calling me a 'slut' and a 'whore' and a 'filthy cunt.'

Having a new, exciting lover, pushing his cock in and out of my willing body, as I came over and over and over, until I passed out from orgasmic pleasure.

Having carefree sex, without a thought or care about disease, pregnancy, the future or the consequences of your actions.

All this regardless of what my husband wanted for me, for our marriage, for his husband's trust and for his caring and lovemaking far into the future.

With everything excused, justified and rationalized, within my own emotional mind, as I lied to myself about the lies I lied about.

Wikipedia puts it best:

"A MESS OF POTTAGE is something immediately attractive but of little value, taken foolishly and carelessly, in exchange for something more distant and perhaps less tangible but immensely more valuable.

The phrase alludes to Esau's sale of his birthright for a meal ("mess") of lentil stew ("pottage") in Genesis 25:29-34 and connotes short-sightedness and misplaced priorities."

Now you have your mess of pottage, with all your sexy pleasures but also with the unintended consequences, particularly at the cost of your present man.

No more trusted loving, caring, sharing, cuddling.

Just fucking sex and all about I, I, I ... Me, Me, Me ... I want, I want, I want ... Right-now, Right-now, Right-now.

In competition with all the other cheating spouses out there.

Welcome to your new life, slut!

—THE END—