I don’t believe that truly faithful men actually exist. We all stray eventually. It’s not that we don’t love our partners; it’s just that, for us, it’s nature. It is physically impossible to love and desire one woman for ten years without noticing a beautiful young girl passing by. Besides, these days, young women practically throw themselves at men twice their age. Back then, I was still in my prime, as they say.
I had just hit forty, and my wife, Vanessa, was thirty-two. I loved Vanessa deeply when we were younger; I married a woman I absolutely worshiped. But time passes, and those intense feelings eventually simmer down. I still held a deep respect and affection for her, of course. I started stepping out about two years into the marriage. We’ve been married for ten years now. At first, it was women her age, but then they kept getting younger and younger. I was honestly surprised by how quickly girls fell for my lines. I never lied, though—I told them straight up that it was casual, no strings attached. Morally, I felt I was still being loyal to my wife because I had no intention of ever leaving her. She’s the mother of my three children; you just don’t walk away from that. I was certain I’d stay with her no matter what.
But then Megan walked into my life. I went crazy for her—I’d never felt anything like it. She was stunning, with a soft, curvy build. She had dark hair and brown eyes that were almost black. Just looking at her made everything inside me light up with pure want. It started with the physical chemistry, but it gradually turned into something much more. I could feel myself becoming indifferent toward my wife, wanting only to get back to Megan’s little apartment. I brought her massive bouquets, jewelry—I even rented a large penthouse for her downtown just to keep her happy. When I saw other girls in the past, I knew they had other things going on the side. But with Megan, she was completely devoted. She gave me the passwords to her social media without a second thought and let me access her cloud storage. At any given moment, I could call and know she was at home or at the gym or the pool. I wanted her to love me. I knew it would lead to complications, but that was just a part of the life I wanted to fully dive into.
***
Megan became closer to me than my own wife, more intimate than Vanessa ever was. I couldn’t stop staring at her; I was insanely jealous. But the moment I arrived at her place, I was ready to forgive her for anything. She’d meet me at the door in lingerie or lace, always in stockings. She wasn’t shy about using toys and was completely uninhibited in the bedroom.
But there was something else special about her. She created a sense of peace just by being there. I’d race to her after work, and right after we were together, I’d rest my head on her lap and feel like I could die right there in total bliss. She’d stroke my hair, whispering sweet, tender things to me. God, I lived for those moments. Megan never demanded anything, never asked for much, and never pressured me to leave my family. But by that point, it was exactly what I wanted to do.
I stopped feeling anything at all for Vanessa. Despite her beauty and her grace, I found myself choosing nineteen-year-old Megan every time. It wasn’t just about the age; it was the feeling. I had fallen in love with my mistress, something that had never happened before. My legs would go weak whenever Megan was near. My beauty, my angel. To me, she was more than a mistress, more than just a girlfriend. I shake at the mere thought of someone else taking her away, marrying her, or her having someone else’s child—even just someone else holding her. The jealousy was overwhelming, like I was twenty years old all over again. I’m currently consulting with a lawyer about the divorce. I’m not going to tell Megan yet; I want it to be a surprise. I’ll leave the house to my wife and kids—I can’t exactly throw them out on the street. But I’ll have to figure out a way to manage the child support, because paying for three kids could leave me broke.
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