I am a married woman with two children, and they are not my husband’s. He has no clue.
Call me a cheat, but know that I don’t care about your judgment, or anyone’s, except for my own. I am here to tell a personal story, so either read it, or don’t.
I met my lover at a business summit seven years ago, and there was an instant connection between us. He was very attractive and extremely confident. When he approached me at the dinner, I was mesmerized by his air of certainty, which was very refreshing (most men act self-conscious with me). After the dinner, we stayed at the hotel bar for another drink, and when he invited me to his room I swear it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
I didn’t even remind him that I was married. I already liked him at ‘Hello’, but in that half an hour we spent at the bar he won me over completely. It felt like an electric bond between two soul mates, and nothing else mattered. He turned out to be an incredible lover; but most importantly, he managed to reveal a whole other dimension in me: the one I had always known I had but chose to stifle.
I grew up in a very religious family. My mother and her two sisters did all they could to turn me into a devout Catholic; but the more they tried, the greater my aversion. The good news was that, by the time I discovered I had certain kinks, I had already learned the game of pretending, which helped me big time because, if my mother had found out about my sex dreams, she’d probably call an exorcist.
As it turned out, men weren’t too keen to do what I wanted either, which was a bad surprise. I watched a lot of porn as a teenager, so I thought some things just went without saying. My husband was the same: I hoped he’d eventually grow confident enough to try new things with me, but I was wrong.
I would join a club, but my desires didn’t really fall under the traditional umbrella of BDSM and the like. No, my ideal dynamic was a lot more psychological, the physical part being just a (relatively small) cherry on top. So, when I realized that me and my lover were on the same page, it felt like I reconnected with myself on the deepest level possible.
The summit was over the next day, but we both wanted to meet again, and I couldn’t wait. We lived in different cities and, even though he regularly visited mine for work, sometimes months would pass between our rendezvous. But every time an opportunity arose, I made sure to take advantage of it. He always stayed at different hotels, and I’d joke that he did it because he was ashamed of how loud he made me moan. But soon I wasn’t joking anymore: I knew what was going on between us was serious when I realized that I wanted to get pregnant with my lover’s child.
Don’t get me wrong: my husband is what a lot of women call “perfect”. He is handsome, funny, and nice; he comes from money, went to an Ivy-League school, has a great job, many friends, and so on. However, everything has been handed to him on a silver platter (including me, but that’s a different story). My lover, on the other hand, was the epitome of a self-made man, and he achieved success despite serious hardships and adversity. So, when I caught myself fantasizing about my future kids having his inner strength, intelligence, and stunning confidence, I knew I had to make it happen. I had already been married for several years, so it was time anyway.
Next time we met, I told him I was off the pill, and explained why. I considered lying, but I quickly knew I just couldn’t not be honest with him. He was taken by surprise, but he agreed, and then our relationship went to the next level.
I didn’t realize it would make such a difference; but the notion of offering my fertile womb to this man and feeling him take it with even more vigor than usual was absolutely intoxicating. I didn’t get pregnant the first time, but we began seeing each other more often (which still meant no more than once a month), and I made sure each of those times was worth two. It took me days to recover after our trysts, and I could barely look at my husband in the meantime, but it was the happiest I had been in my whole life. That is, until I found out I was pregnant, and not with one child, but with twins!
The hardest thing during pregnancy was not seeing him, which he insisted upon saying I had to focus on taking good care of myself and our children. I knew what he meant, and I knew he was right, but I was missing him horribly. It wasn’t just my belly that was stretching: my heart seemed to expand to the same size, and there was so much love inside that sometimes I’d cry for hours in sheer happiness, not noticing the time pass.
When I gave birth, everything I had been harboring inside stormed out on the children, the most beautiful girl and the most handsome boy I could imagine. I never did the test, obviously, but I never needed to: I knew whose they were the very first time I looked at them. Why do they say the best things in life should be hard? I went with what my soul wanted the most, and it was the easiest, and it still is. My husband never questioned his paternity, and every time he admires how amazing these kids are, it’s another reminder that I have made the right choice.
It’s been almost five years, and recently, I stopped taking birth control again. I decided to give my husband a chance to prove himself as a man and have a child of his own, but he hasn’t been too eager to try lately. So, if that means getting pregnant with my lover’s third child, I am fine with that. We still see each other from time to time, but even less frequently than we used to. I know he’s been seeing other women throughout our entire affair, but I don’t feel jealous because every moment we spend together he still makes me feel like I am the only woman in the whole world.
In the past, when I shared my story on online forums, people asked how I coped with this dual life I had to live. So, I want to finish by saying that I never regretted these decisions. My corporate job taught me to weigh the risks before taking action, which I’ve done, knowing the potential rewards were much greater. And time proved me right. The immense satisfaction I got from my affair for years, the liberation I achieved, and my children all speak for themselves. And as for the dual life, I actually like it. Society forces women to wear masks and pretend on someone else’s behalf anyway, so why not do it for your own sake? I know I am much happier than most women, and I’m surely a lot happier than I would have been if I hadn’t done this. So, if a double life is what it takes for a woman to achieve happiness, so be it.
Besides, this dual life helped me find my true self, and I don’t mean it just sexually. Over these years, I also recognized myself as a woman with enough autonomy and self-determination to pursue her desires without guilt or remorse. And I don’t get off on the idea of being caught one day, or the notion of dominating my husband while letting another man take me behind his back, as some forum readers had suggested. No, I genuinely wish my husband wasn’t so insecure and reluctant to leave his comfort zone. And I wish I could openly talk about what I like to do in bed and not be called nasty names for it. But if that’s not an option, I will not let it bring me down. And I am raising my kids the same way, by the way. This way, I’ll always know I gave them everything I could.
