Sigh.

Its 3:00A.M. - The hour of witches and warlocks.

The full moon was providing the only source of light. Angie was curled up with a cozy blanket, watching the world outside her window. Nothing much was happening at this time of the morning. The moonlight made the snow sparkle like diamonds. It was such a peaceful scene, but Angie was anything but peaceful. Just a few feet away, her husband was sleeping like he didn't have a care in the world, and he actually didn't.

Angie took care of EVERYTHING! Her marriage of thirty-plus years felt more and more like a job with a horrible boss than a marriage. Things had changed drastically over the last few years; thinking back, Angie couldn't say exactly when things charged, it had happened so slowly. First, an illness that made sex difficult, then a forced retirement was a big change in his life.

At one time he was still playful and couldn't keep his hands to himself, a pinched nipple here, grabbing her ass there, while she was trying to brush her teeth, little touches that kept them connected. Now was a different story; Angie was pretty sure that where he used to love her, now he only loved what she did for him. Cook, clean and looked after everything: the finances, the house. Whatever needed to be done was up to her to do it.

Angie had been so lonely and pretty fucking horny she had resorted to a few toys, her fingers, and her imagination to satisfy herself. But she needed that human connection. She felt more and more like the maid without any fringe benefits. She had tried to talk to him about it and told him she didn't need wild swinging from the chandelier sex. She suggested oral and using her toys, but that fell on deaf ears and idle hands.

Years have passed, and things continued to deteriorate. Her friends told her to leave him, but she couldn't. When asked why not, she would always say, "I stood up before God and made a vow in front of our families and friends, I promised to be faithful in sunshine and in shadows. What kind of person would I be to leave my marriage because I'm horny and unsatisfied? Especially since it's not his fault...he is not well."

Angie pulled the blanket closer needing to feel its warmth, wishing it was a warm body and strong arms holding her. Angie had resigned herself to the fact that that part of her life was over. She was an army of one, depending on no one. But then...

Two weeks ago, quite by accident, Angie found a website full of wonderful erotic stories, they titillated her senses. It is amazing how rearranging 26 letters over and over could bring her to a climax. Angie was hooked; she made a profile and read voraciously every story, every authors. This is amazing!

The website had a spot to post a picture. She debated, really, should she?

After one particularly hard day, after the house was dark and quiet, she thought, "What could it hurt?"

She knew the picture she wanted; it was a few years old, but it was her favorite, taken for a charity event. There had been hair and make-up, clothes that felt luxurious, and a photographer who created magic. Truthfully it was the last time she had felt beautiful.

It took many. Yes, I am going to post it, and no, I'm not moments. Don't be foolish...who wants to see a 62-year-old woman in a sweater when there are many beautiful young girls leaving very little to the imagination on the site? Then that strong independent Angie surfaced and said to herself, "Push the damn button," and so she did.

Angie immediately closed the app, scared and exhilarated at the same time. Then the notifications started coming in, you have a message over and over.

In a panic, Angie opened the app to take the photo down and was totally shocked; comments of "Stunning. Beautiful," flooded her messages.

Wait! What? Invitations to be friends and chat.

Wait! What?

The responses were so overwhelming and kind. Could she be friends and chat with people she didn't know? Angie read profiles with interest.

Should she? She had no idea how this all worked.

Along came strong, independent Angie: "What's the worst that could happen?"

She selected a few carefully chosen people to be friends with. To be truthful...it's kinda like shooting ducks with a blindfold on; you might get one, you might miss, you might get a bad one, and if you are lucky, you might get a good one.

Now this is the part that Angie never figured on, the part that has her staring out the window at the blowing snow at 3:00am. Angie started chatting, this was all so new.

This man is far beyond what she expected; he's kind, funny, talented, patient, caring, and sexy as fuck. We chat about our days, lots of questions, exploring, getting to know each other and the cyber-sex is amazing.

So, my question that has me sleepless is, is this cheating? He only touches my mind with his words, it is my imagination and my hands that arouse me. I long to talk to him to read his words. He listens to what I say, and he is helping to put the broken me that was held together with mashed potatoes and duct tape back together.

In a very short period of time, he has become the shoulder I lean on.

I didn't know what to expect but I never figured out this!