I had always been a patient man. For years, I had been loyal to my wife, Diane, despite her growing indifference toward our marriage. What once was a passionate union had turned into routine interactions, an occasional peck on the cheek, a bedtime routine that involved her scrolling on her phone until she rolled over to sleep.
At first, I tried everything: date nights, suggested weekend getaways, even brought up couples therapy. Each time, she dismissed the idea as frivolous.
"I'm just tired," she’d say, or worse, "Sex isn’t everything, Paul. Grow up."
But a man with needs is a man who will wander. If she wouldn’t tend to them, someone else would.
That’s when I met Sophia.
She wasn’t just an affair; she was a revelation. Younger than Diane but mature in ways that mattered, Sophia made me feel alive again. She listened, laughed at my jokes, and most importantly, she wanted me. She lived far enough away from my home to avoid awkward encounters. Our first night together was electric, the kind of pent-up release that made me realise just how much I had been missing. It wasn’t just sex; it was validation, worship—something primal and raw.
At first, I kept it secret. But something inside me snapped. Why should I be the one hiding? If Diane couldn’t be bothered to be a wife, why should I pretend everything was fine?
So I stopped sneaking around. I left my phone unlocked and face-up, came home late without excuses. And then, the pièce de résistance: I would let Diane catch me.
She had been away for a long weekend with friends and wasn’t due back until late Sunday evening. I tracked the trains, so I knew when she’d return. I wanted her to see, to understand what it felt like to be the outsider in her own marriage.
The front door opened, and in she came, exhausted from a weekend of gossip and overpriced cocktails. She expected to find me watching TV, as always. Instead, she found me sprawled on the couch, shirt unbuttoned, Sophia nestled against my chest in nothing but the Black panties and lacy bra I had bought her for the occasion. Her lipstick was still fresh on my neck, her scent lingering in the air.
For a moment, Diane froze, her mouth parting in shock. Then, her eyes darted between us, searching for guilt, for shame—something that would make this feel like an affair, something she could be angry about. But there was none. I smirked, my fingers lazily tracing Sophia’s thigh.
"Oh, hey, darling," I said casually, as if she had walked in on me having a beer, not being worshipped by another woman.
Diane’s face paled. "What the hell is this?"
Sophia, sweet and unbothered, looked up at Diane and smiled.
"Your husband deserves to be taken care of, Dianna. Since you won’t, I shall have to."
Diane’s composure cracked, her breath quickening. She took a step forward as if to assert herself, but something in my expression stopped her.
"This is disgusting."
I tilted my head, considering her.
"Is it? Or is it just uncomfortable now that the roles are reversed? You had no problem ignoring me. No problem making me feel invisible. But now that you have to watch? Now that you get to feel like the one left out?"
Diane swallowed hard, her gaze flicking between us. Sophia shifted slightly, her fingers sliding over my stomach before dipping lower, her nails dragging just enough to make me shiver. I let out a slow, satisfied exhale, making sure Diane saw just how much I was enjoying this.
Diane clenched her fists at her sides.
"You’re humiliating me."
"You humiliated me for years," I shot back, my tone even.
"I begged for your attention. I waited. I was patient. But a man can only take so much before he finds someone who will give him what he deserves."
Sophia shifted again, this time straddling me fully. Her warm, bare skin pressed against mine, her lips ghosting over my jaw.
"Mmm," she purred, her voice just loud enough for Diane to hear.
"I love how you take care of me, Paul. Unlike some women who take their men for granted."
Diane’s jaw tightened, but she had no response. I saw something in her expression, shock, maybe even a flicker of jealousy. The realisation that she wasn’t the centre of my world anymore. That someone else had taken her place.
"You can stay and watch if you like," I offered with a smirk, sliding my hands over Sophia’s curves. "Maybe you’ll learn something."
Diane’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t move. She had nowhere to go. No excuses left. For years, I had been the one left wanting, the one begging for scraps of affection. Now, the balance had shifted. And there was nothing she could do about it.
I turned back to Sophia, pressing my lips to hers, claiming her fully in front of the woman who had denied me for so long. Diane’s sharp inhale told me everything I needed to know.
This was my moment. And I wasn’t about to stop.
The door slammed shut.
I looked at Sophie and whispered, “guess I am sleeping on the settee tonight then”
Sophie giggles,
“Or in my bed, shall we go?”
(to be continued)
