I never felt like high-fiving myself for cheating on Gabbie. But I certainly didn't feel bad about it either.
My commitment to her was never at risk and the fulfillment I got from being with men was nothing Gabbie could ever have given me. Being with a man and being with Gabbie were so completely different that I didn't even think of having sex with men as cheating.
My affair with Marc had multiple, positive effects on my relationship with Gabbie. Meeting with him kept me from feeling restless or dissatisfied, and, I wasn't having unsafe sex with many different men.
The actual sex with Marc had multiple, positive effects too. The more I did it with him, the more I wanted to do it with Gabbie. And when Gabbie and I did have sex, it was better than ever. Sex with Marc was so good that he made me a better lover.
The bottom line was that have an affair with Marc had nothing but positive effects on my relationship with Gabbie; Marc brought us closer together.
Spending time with Marc also inspired my subconscious in a new way. Before Marc, I had never had lengthy, intimate conversations with anyone about straight sex. Marc was not a big bragger, but sometimes we'd get on the subject of his many female conquests when he was young. He'd give such vivid descriptions of everything that happened that I sometimes felt like I was the one fucking the girls.
It was a day after one of those detailed straight-sex conversations that I had my very first erotic dream about a woman. Imagine, I was 34 years old and had been fucking a woman for 14 years, but I had never once had a straight sex dream.
The dream was very rudimentary. All I remember was feeling pure joy as I ferociously fucked an anonymous cunt. I just wanted to pound the shit out of that cunt, to fuck it hard, then cum deep inside, then toss the girl away when I was done.
I'm a very low-key guy and never in my conscious mind did I ever fantasize about fucking a woman like an animal. But the dream was so hot that it created a permanent straight fantasy for me. The only one I've ever had. I'd be happy to fuck any cunt presented to me, just so long as I don't have to see the woman's face and I can fuck her as hard as I want, then cum, then walk away.
The dream and the fantasy were so strong that for the very first time in my life I wondered if I might be turning straight. Turning straight? That couldn't be true! The whole possibility really fucked with my self-identity.
We've all heard stories of guys who suddenly realize they are turned on by men long after their straight sexual identity has been established. That's what happened to me, only in reverse. After a lifetime of fantasizing only about men, I now had a real fantasy about sex with women. It was bizarre and completely unexpected, but it stayed with me.
When Marc and I were together, I felt like I was living a whole other life, away from Gabbie and the kids, away from work. It was like our own private bubble, a timeless oasis that only Marc and I occupied.
As our second, third, fourth and fifth years together ticked by I wondered how much longer we would continue meeting. 10 years? 20 years? Longer? I really had no idea. I was extremely happy with the sex, and our friendship, so I had no desire to change anything. Hell, I even loved that we always drank a bottle of wine and ate sandwiches together! There was only one unsettling question about our relationship: what was our future?
If we were a traditional straight couple, we'd have a predestined path that our relationship was expected to follow, beginning with dating, then advancing to marriage, younger kids, older kids, an empty nest and eventually to retirement.
But Marc and I were nothing like a traditional straight couple. We were friends, with benefits. And our friendship was largely confined to a few hours every other week in a hotel room. We had an oasis, and it was fantastic, but was it our destiny to keep meeting in the same pattern for many years to come? And how long would we keep meeting? Why would we stop?
I didn't think about these questions too often, but when I did, I was definitely unnerved. The best solution, it seemed, was to never think about the future, to live for the day.
Shortly into our 6th year together, Marc's wife was away visiting her parents in the Mid-West. This gave Marc and I the option to meet at his house for a change. I hadn't been there for about two years so I was happy to see updated pictures of his boy Martin and to see the new back deck Marc and his brothers built.
After the house tour, and the sucking and fucking, it was time for lunch. Marc went to the kitchen to find us something to eat and I took the opportunity of being alone in his office to see what kind of porn I could find on his computer.
Instead of porn, I found a chat session Marc had left open on a dating site that I had never heard of. I had no idea if the site was mostly gay, bi or straight. I decided to check Marc's profile on the site to find out what he was doing there.
It proved that he had been trolling for guys.
I read a few emails in his in-box and saw that he had been emailing different guys for months. I couldn't be absolutely certain, but it looked like he had been "cheating" on me.
The realization made my stomach sink a little. And I was a little pissed. But I wasn't emotionally devastated nor did I storm out of his house in an angry tirade.
We had never discussed the option of screwing around with other guys. Nor had we ever discussed being exclusive. Because of our wives and our families, we were both adamant about safe sex. Part of our bond, I thought, was to keep ourselves and our families safe. But that was my assumption. Truthfully, our commitment was implied but not explicit. Based on what we had actually discussed, I could not criticize Marc for fucking around without telling me. We had set no rules.
From his office, I yelled to him in the kitchen, "Hey Marc. What's the deal with this dating site? Is this for hook-ups for bi guys or what?"
Within seconds he was standing in the doorway of his office, watching me at his computer. He looked embarrassed.
"What are you doing? I'm making you lunch and here you are checking out my private email?" His tone wasn't angry. It was defensive.
"I was just curious about what you've been up to. It looks to me like you've been very busy."
"Well, uh...ya. I've chatted with a few people. It's no big deal."
"You're lying to me. From these emails it looks like you've been fucking around, not just talking."
"So. We never said we were exclusive."
"Ok. That's true. You can do whatever you want. I don't own you."
"You're right, you don't."
I slowly nodded, taking in his attitude. "I guess you're bored with me then huh?"
"Look. You're the only guy I've ever been with, except for the two threesomes [one when he was young, with a married couple, the other with Vince]. I was just curious what sex is like with different guys."
"I understand." And I did. I was hardly a virgin and if, like Marc, I had so little experience with guys at the age of 44, I'd be curious too.
I looked at him for a minute. I studied his face, checking for clues about how he really felt about me and our relationship.
Mostly, he looked embarrassed, like a kid caught doing something he knows he shouldn't be doing.
Maybe I was too naive, or maybe I was stupid, but I believed that his lack of loyalty had more to do with him than me.
Rather than beat myself up about it, I decided to accept him at his word; it was not my fault that he was fucking around.
I decided not to feel insulted. By giving myself a break, I was giving Marc one too. If he wasn't insulting me, then I couldn't be pissed. All I could be was disappointed.
And I was very disappointed.
But the conversation was over. There was nothing else to say. So I decided to move ahead and signal that I was done talking about it.
"What's for lunch?"
Marc called me the next day to talk about us. Mostly he wanted to explain his reasons for being curious, which were exactly what he had told me the day before. I told him I understood.
I didn't know what more he wanted from me.
Finally I said, "As I told you yesterday, I don't own you. Do whatever you want, with whoever you want. The most important thing is that you play safe. ... I'm not going to spend my time worrying about what you're doing. Whenever you want to meet me again, let me know, and we'll talk about it. For right now, I think you've made it clear that you want to fool around with other guys and what you do is none of my business."
I didn't hear from Marc again for a few weeks. When he did call, we had a friendly chat, but I would not ask him if wanted to meet. There was no way I was going to beg.
For whatever reason, Marc didn't ask me to meet him again, until nearly two years later. I don't know how the subject came up, but it did, and Marc invited me over. Everything was great, just like it had always been. Great sex, great conversation and even a great lunch.
That was six years ago. I haven't seen Marc since but I have talked to him numerous times, most recently a few weeks ago.
Not long after we stopped seeing each other, his marriage began to collapse. Not because of sex, but because Joan was an alcoholic. She quit her job because she didn't like it and wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. Marc changed jobs too and there was a period where she was at home and he was not. During that time she started drinking heavily during the day. Marc would come home from work and she'd be blotto. He had no patience for her behavior, especially with Martin in her care. Marc and Joan went through a lot of drama, trying to get her to stay sober, but she didn't want to do it. There was a lot of shit that happened between the two of them but the short story is that they divorced and now share custody of Martin.
Marc has had a live-in girlfriend for the last two years. I don't think he plans to marry her, but I'm not sure. Martin is in 8th grade now. He's 14. When Marc and I spoke a few weeks ago, I asked him if he was fucking anyone other than his girlfriend, but then she came in the room so I never got an answer. The next time we talk, I'll ask him again. He seems to like this girlfriend but he's also keen on new experiences, so who knows.
If Marc ever point-blank asked me to come see him, I'd go. But he hasn't done that. Every time we talk, we dance around that question. Neither of us will ask the other if he's willing. I don't want to sound needy; I figure if he wants me to suck his dick, he can invite me over.
Not counting the one time we met two years later, Marc and I had a regular thing for more than five years. We weren't lovers, we were friends. True friends with awesome benefits.
Even though he is old as fuck now (52) and he pretty much cheated on me, I'd do him again in a minute. Overall, the time we spent together was pretty damn awesome.