Men were simple, he told me he was going to be out of town but I log on to Facebook and his location on a status says, ‘Near Houston, TX.’ So why would he lie? I had a husband so I wasn’t trying to keep track on two men, he didn’t have a reason to lie to me. Sitting by the pool my mind was going in a million directions, telling my husband I lost the baby made the most sense. Even if he got me pregnant today I wouldn’t know for sure for another five or six weeks. And considering I’d let that bastard cum in me I wouldn’t even know if it was my husbands.
Either way it didn’t eleven months to have a child and he would want to be at ultra sounds and appointments. Getting pregnant now was out of the question. A bigger concern was him telling my man what was going on.
He thought he was smarter than me. ‘Do you baby, I don’t care about your husband. Fuck him!’ But I see the way he looks at me when I stop what we’re doing to answer the phone when he calls or when I shower after he touches me.
The texts and calls at the weird hours, the hickies and bite marks he tries to leave without me noticing. Men wear their emotion on their sleeve and as much as he thought he was showing me how much stronger he was than my husband he was just as weak when it came to me.
It was just sex, that straight forward, that simple. He had a big dick and he knew how to use it. I wish there was this deep conflict and these emotional ties but it was my body. In my mind and heart I knew where home was, I knew what a good man and good life I have but when my clit starts throbbing and I close my eyes and feel him inside of me all logic goes out the window.
The thrill of getting caught, the weird places, the way he’s trying to prove himself to me everytime we’re together. I explode everytime and as much as I love the man I sleep with every night I don’t explode everytime he’s inside of me.
I once read somewhere that seventy percent of women lie about orgasms. I can relate, how can you tell a man that’s giving you everything he has that he’s only making you climax once or twice out of every seven or eight times? The answer to that question is simple, you don’t tell him unless you want to lose him. You can call a man broke, you can call him a bitch, you can scratch his car and go through his phone. He’ll forgive you every time if he’s in love but question his sexual abilities and that’s all he’ll think about.
Even though it was February the weather was Spring going on Summer so I couldn’t tell if the sweat dripping down my back was from my situation or the humidity. My entire life I used sex to get my way with men; I used charm to keep them and I used their emotions against them when all else failed. And not those same emotions were turning against me.
Houston was a big city but networks were small and social media made it even smaller. Not to mention all the times I talked about my husband and his habits like I wasn’t sleeping with a man that hated him. Turning on the shower, stripping out of my bathing suit, I knew my looks wouldn’t last forever. I’d saved a lot of money since I didn’t pay any bills and my pay checks basically went untouched. But I was really starting to believe money and pleasure weren’t everything if it meant giving up on my vows.
Closing my eyes and putting my hands on the counter, “God, please don’t let either one of these men get hurt because of me.”
Opening my eyes I noticed my cell phone vibrating on the counter. It was my husband.
I didn’t answer…