![]() ![]() Questions I would find out were pretty standard on a date like this. We had a few drinks, and I answered his questions about my husband, Charles, my marriage, and why I was there that night. Some people would say I should be ashamed that I don't know his name, but the truth is that it makes the memory that much hotter. I do not remember his name, although I've tried over the years to remember. We made our introductions, and he ordered me a drink. With the comfort of that interaction with Charles, I made my way to the bar area. That, and he is positively my best friend. He truly understands me like no one ever could. We went back and forth, making jokes and reminding myself how much I loved that man. I replied, letting him know I had been waiting in the lobby like an idiot. He's been waiting for you and wants to know if you're still coming." Another text followed, "I love you." As if Charles could read my mind, a follow-up text buzzed. How could he possibly know where this man was, and how did he know there was a bar here? I hadn't even noticed the bar when I came into the lobby. My head spun around, looking for my husband. ![]() I was tempted to get up and leave when my phone buzzed with a text from my husband. I was waiting on him, and that felt wrong and awkward. In the lobby, I recall feeling a little stupid. Slutty, sexy, and desired would be the best way to describe how I felt. I wasn't sure how I would feel about myself. I was still unsure how he would react when I got home. Charles had been very enthusiastic about me having this first date. Either way, it's incredible, and so is he.īut that night, in the hotel lobby, I had no idea how this would all turn out. Other times it's sensitive and beautiful, as if he's reminding me that I am unique to him, which I also love. Sometimes our sex is physical and powerful, as if he was reclaiming me, which I love. We make love passionately after every encounter. He wants to hear every detail and every second of every moment I'm with someone. He gets far more excited about my sex than I do. He helps me get dressed, and we sit by the pool and swipe left and right on apps as we pick the man together. Even though my husband not only loves me and approves, he encourages me. I understood then, as I do now, that what I do is morally wrong to most people. There I was, after over a decade of being happily married, waiting in a hotel lobby for a stranger to have sex with. Before I met my husband, Charles, I had never had a one-night stand-I never so much as had a casual fling. This was all very new to me, having sex with strangers. It had little to do with who he was and more with who he wasn't. It wasn't that this man was overly handsome or wealthy. ![]() It was like prom night all over again-the nerves and anticipation of having sex for the first time. I remember feeling so anxious and nervous that I almost threw up in the sink. I never thought I'd ever wait in a hotel lobby to meet a stranger for sex. ![]()
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