I'm feeling a bit pent up; it's been a couple of weeks now since Julien last deigned to be intimate with me.
This is irregular for us. For as long as I've known him, his libido has always been hyperactive. I've always done my best to accommodate him, to take care of his needs, and--for the most part--I think I've been able to satisfy him. Our sex life thrived for years...until recently.
Our average everyday interactions are still the same. Our household isn't in shambles. We continue to sleep in the same bed, but what we do in that bed has changed. Whenever I try to initiate intercourse, he more often than not declines, feigning exhaustion. Whenever he does fuck me, he does so less tenderly than he would in the past.
He wears protection, despite my hints to the contrary. I'm unaccustomed to feeling that physical barrier between us; it dulls the sensation of skin-on-skin contact, it inhibits the sensation of total subsumption, it prohibits his seed from inseminating me. It's almost cruel, the way he forces me to beg him to remove the condom, when he never actually does so. Sex is no longer a channel to make love, but merely a function for him to get off. There's no emotional release--only physical relief, predominantly his, not mine.
It's driving me feral.
Occam's razor dictates that the simplest answer is also the most likely: Julien is disinterested in me.
The intimacy between us has shifted. It hasn't altogether disappeared, but I'm finding myself increasingly forced to confront the reality that something is different. I tell myself that he's still good to me, that he's still the man I love, but, deep down, I know that I know better.
The elephant in the room is that he's cheating on me. I'm now beyond deluding myself, no longer pretending that he isn't, that it might have been a once-off mistake, that it was merely a happenstance beyond his control. He's well aware of what he's doing, and he knows exactly how it could affect me if I found out.
I still don't know if he knows that I know. I wonder how he expects I would react to discovering his perfidy.
I'm not shattered by all of this. On some level, I suppose I'm upset, yes. Perhaps he thinks I would be devastated; perhaps I was, at first. Perhaps that's why he hasn't outright told me that he wants things to change. Perhaps he's still trying to protect me, in his own way.
As I come closer to terms with what he's done--what he's likely still doing--I find that it's all I can think about. I fixate on his activities, I pore over his schedule. I don't know where or when or how often he hooks up with people behind my back--I don't even know how many people there are, if it's just one constant or many--but I'm desperate to find out. I just want to know.
So, seized by intense curiosity, I looked through his phone.
Throughout our relationship, we've always been able to access each other's devices. We've always shared our passwords; we've always trusted each other. But, earlier this year, he changed the code to his phone--and I should have realized at that moment that something was going on, I didn't think twice about it, I trusted him--and I've since lost access. Not wanting him to think I wanted to snoop, I never mentioned it to him. I never asked for his new passcode.
Last night, he left his phone unlocked as he went to get ready for bed. I grabbed it as soon as I could, before it could automatically lock itself down.
I don't know what came over me. I just wanted to know--I needed to know--at least a modicum of the truth. I know there's so much he hasn't told me; I just wanted to see it, some of it, any of it, for myself.
I went through his text messages, not recognizing most of the senders. I picked one of his more recent conversations, scrolled up to an arbitrary point in time, and began to read.
"Hey, how've you been?"
"Hey, I was just thinking about you"
"Oh yeah? What made you think of me? Haha"
"I plead the fifth..."
"Haha you've been inside me a couple of times now, I think it's safe for you to tell me"
"Lol"
"Well, I can't wait to feel your cock inside me again"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I haven't stopped thinking about the last time, I still imagine it when I jerk off"
"Maybe I'll make you squirt from eating you out again"
"Hahaha I'd rather you make me cum handsfree with your cock again"
"That could be arranged..."
"I wanna feel you breed me next time"
"Haha don't get me too hard right now, I'm out grocery shopping"
"Out by yourself?"
"With my partner"
"Ditch him, and let's see how many times you can make me cum in one night"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, I want you to grab my ass and make me ride you up and down and hit my spot"
"You're gonna be a good boy for me again?"
"Yessir, I'm just a hole for your cock"
"Maybe I should come over tonight, then"
"Please do, I haven't been fucked in so long and I need you"
That conversation ended there. Grocery shopping? That was only a couple days ago. When did he fuck this person, how did they meet and how many trysts have they had?
My heart pounding, I stilled myself and strained my ears to check that Julien wasn't already on his way back. I heard him running the faucet in our bathroom, probably as he brushed his teeth.
I could feel a familiar stirring deep within me. Here was concrete evidence of my husband's extramarital activities, proof that he's sought pleasure from the flesh of another. The blood in my body was rushing, and it was rushing in only one direction: south.
I couldn't bear it. I reached one hand down between my legs and gripped my stiffening wood.
I needed to know more. I didn't have much time.
Quickly, I decided to look through another conversation with someone else, texts that he had apparently received just minutes prior.
"I'm in the mood to take some loads, wanna add yours?"
"I'm going to sleep now, but that's hot."
"You're real close by haha it could be quick ;)"
"Well...can't say I'm not tempted..."
"I can be ass up waiting lol I'm so wet right now you'd love it"
"Bet this would slide right in." With this message, Julien had attached an image of his endowment at full mast. I salivated over the photo; he's always had a beautiful cock.
"Damn! Yeah, it would, come slide it in real quick"
"Don't get me too hard right now lol I won't be able to sleep"
"Haha cumming in me will make you sleep better ;)"
"I know, but I'm really not supposed to"
"Come on, come over, you're nearby"
"Should I?"
"Yes, you should, and it'll be quick, don't worry"
To this, Julien didn't have an immediate response; a few minutes later, a follow-up text message was sent from the same person.
"Come over, I know you want to"
"Let me check if my boyfriend fell asleep yet"
Is that a reference to me? No longer his husband--just a boyfriend?
"Haha ok, to have him join us?"
"I would be sneaking away"
"That's hot lol you should come, should I get in position for you?"
"I really shouldn't..."
"Come on it'll be fast, load me up lol my door's open for you"
Julien's footsteps suddenly approached; I hurriedly placed his phone back to where he had left it. As he came back into our bedroom, I pretended to be looking at my own phone, engrossed. If he noticed that his phone had been moved, he didn't let on.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
A few minutes later, we agreed to turn off the lights and prepared to sleep. I turned away from him, pretending to nod off. In actuality, my mind was racing as I reflected on the texts I had just read on his phone.
I was so fucking hard. I don't know why. I've never thought of myself as a wittol.
Who in the world were these guys? I didn't recognize their numbers, and he didn't have their contacts saved.
The first conversation had taken place while we were out shopping earlier that week. He had been somewhat distracted on his phone as we picked out groceries. I tried to remember what had happened later that night. We had gone home together. I couldn't recall him disappearing afterwards. We had been together for the rest of the evening...except for a brief moment after dinner as I cleaned up. He had left the dishes for me to wash and put away, and I had been so focused on finishing that I wasn't paying attention to where he was. How long did I take? I couldn't remember. Ten minutes or twenty, I just don't know. It's possible that he slipped out at that time. I don't know if he did.
The second conversation seemed to still be ongoing right at that moment. I couldn't identify that sender either.
I laid there in bed, in the darkness, mulling it all over. I thought about that last text Julien had just received; he hadn't yet responded to it by the time I read the conversation. I wondered if he replied as he sat right there next to me.
Last night, it took me forever to fall asleep. With all of this in my mind, with the brief glimpse into his life that I had managed to steal, I was thinking in circles. His phone buzzed with notifications a couple more times; was someone messaging him--was it the same person?
By the time I actually did nod off, I was mentally exhausted. I slept uneasily, unable to achieve deep sleep. I was aware of my surroundings all at once and not at all; I drifted between half-awake and half-not. So, when the weight on Julien's side of the bed shifted, I couldn't discern whether he was just adjusting his position or if he had actually gotten up. And, when his weight finally returned in full, I didn't know how much time had passed in between.
I'm desperate for relief.