He wasn’t the love of my life. But he made love to me like no one else.
From the time we met to the time we parted, there was everything but love.
We fought, argued and screamed. Things were always tempestuous, always volatile. We could never, ever agree on something. The tension was always palpable. Frustration was in the air. Love went out of the window.
Despite all the issues, I dated him for 7 years. As much as I wanted to leave him, I just couldn’t. I tried but every time, something got me back. Something stopped me. Something didn’t let me leave.
That something was sex. It was the best sex I’d ever had.
And even though I’m married now, it still remains the best sex of my life.
My husband and I have a great marriage.
We run our home together. He supports my ambition. I’ve never had to compromise on my needs for his sake. We’re friends first and spouses later. We’re happy together. I’m happy with him.
Nothing is missing in our life. He completes me. I complement him. It’s a perfect union.
Except, in bed.
No matter what he does, I can never feel the sensation. The same sensation I’d feel wrapped around my ex’s arms. When I’d feel him on top of me. In me.
It’s just not the same with my husband. He loves me, yes, but sometimes, love isn’t enough. Love doesn’t guarantee passion. It doesn’t warrant desire. It doesn’t give you an orgasm.
My husband can’t pleasure me the way I’d like him to.
There’s nothing wrong with my husband.
He’s great-looking and well-built. He’s the kind of man they write about in books. Show in movies. The ones women fantasize about.
I do find him attractive. I married him because I was attracted to him.
But there’s something about him that doesn’t make the cut. Not in bed. Not when he’s loving me. Touching me. Kissing me. Or, when he’s in me.
He may be in my body but at that point, he’s not on my mind.
Night after night, as I make love to my husband, I’m cheating on him with my ex. As my husband enters my body, my ex enters my mind.
I know it isn’t fair. But I can’t stop thinking about him.
This isn’t about love. Not at all.
I’ve never regretted leaving my ex-boyfriend. He was nothing like the man I wanted. He wasn’t meant for me. Together, we were a disaster.
Yet, somehow, we were perfect.
Perfect in bed. Perfect for sex.
I don’t love him anymore. I don’t ever want to go back to him.
Or, maybe I do. Just for sex. Only for sex.
It’s the only thing I want from him. Frankly, it’s the only thing I want.
I can’t talk about my desire.
Who will understand my feelings? Our society has no place for a woman’s needs. Certainly not her sexual ones. Especially when they involve a man who isn’t her husband.
If my husband wasn’t satisfied with me, he would’ve left me. Or, chosen to have affairs outside.
I can do that too. I can cheat on my husband. Yes, I’ll be labeled. Vilified, even.
But I’ve never strayed outside my marriage. Not even thought about it.
I can’t do that to my husband. But then, how long can I do it to myself?
They say, a marriage is more about love and companionship and less about sex.
When you’ve got someone who loves you, what else do you want, right?
You want passion. Physical chemistry. Satisfaction.
You want a lot, a lot more than just love. You want sex. Great sex. Mind-boggling sex.
Sex that makes you go wild. Satiates your body. Satisfies your soul.
The sex I had with my ex. The sex that’s always on my mind.