I read a lot of these confessions about cheating. They are all similar. The sex is mechanical. The orgasms come, and the victim is often none the wiser.

I am here to testify that sex is an accessory to cheating. The cheater uses it as a tool, attempting to cure the blackness in his mind, a blackness that drives him to betray his greatest allies in some ritual to the gods of insecurity. I've been a cheater. I've gone down that dark path many times, and yes, the fleshy parts are exciting and erotic at the time, but when the moment ends, there is nothing but rotten silence and shame. There is nothing admirable about losing control of your own promises. There is nothing masculine or triumphant about betraying your wife.

Two and a half years ago, I walked into a restaurant in the middle of the afternoon. I was in town visiting my daughter, but I was not going to get to see her until the next day. I drove there early so I could check into my hotel, fresh up, and get plenty of rest so I could have a great weekend with her. Unfortunately, I was not about to get the rest I would need, but this was not a good thing.

Yes, I was divorced from her mother. However, I was remarried, and the wedding was only two months prior to this day. When my wife and I were not yet engaged, I was a bit promiscuous, sleeping with over a dozen women and a few men. I always practiced "safe sex," but it always made me feel awful. When we became engaged, I changed my ways and did not fuck around for two years.

However, this day was about to change the course of my fidelity.

There were only two of us in the bar. I ordered a beer and a salad. The other person was an older woman. She had blonde hair, a tight body, fake tits, and a nice face. We sparked up a conversation. Thirty minutes later, we agreed to meet that evening.

I knew it was wrong, but I met her at a wine bar. We finished a bottle of malbec. Before I knew it, we were in my hotel room. It was a suit. I was a bit drunk, but I found myself with my face between her legs. Then we moved to the bed and fucked four times before moving to the other bed. She was in her late 40s. I was twelve years younger. This age difference excited her.

I saw my daughter the next day. I felt guilty. Very guilty. I vowed never to do it again.

Six months later, I returned to the town. Usually, I meet my ex half way between our towns, but I sometimes have to come to her town to see my daughter due to school events and other things that prevent Friday travel. This time I had a meeting with her teacher. I vowed not to contact my fling. I would have followed my vow had I not drunk texted her before going to bed. I don't remember doing it, but I awoke to a new message on my phone that said:

"Sorry I missed you. I almost came over, but it was a bit late. Want to meet today??"

I scrolled back and saw that around midnight I texted:

"In town. Arrived late. In room xxx. Feel free to come by for a repeat . . ."

If I was smart, I would have ignored her text, went to my daughter's conference, and left town. Instead, I answered her text message.

"We can meet today. How about lunch at our spot (implying the place we met)??"

My conference with the teacher was in the afternoon, so I had several hours. We met, had lunch, and ended up in my room. She gave me a blow job. I licked her clit. She laughed. It was her birthday.

"My gift is a cum mustache," she said as she wiped her upper lip with her finger.

My timing was close. I barely made the conference. I didn't have time to freshen up. I don't think I even washed my hands. I know that my daughter's teacher could smell my lover's pussy on me.

I vowed never to contact my lover again.

Of course, I broke this vow three months later. This time, we met at the hotel bar. As a formality, we drank some wine, discussed the presidential election, then headed to my room where we fucked liked teenagers.


She did not know I was married. I made up stories about myself. I created an email address that I only used for her. I told her I lived in a place close enough to where I lived that I would not slip up, but still a different place entirely. A different town. A different county.

I am easily searched online, so I did not lie about what I did. However, the places I work are not in the towns that I live.

I did not use Facebook. I kept my LinkedIn private and inaccessible to anyone not in my "network."

I was living a double life. I was going home and making love to my wife. There were times when I would think of my lover while I was in my wife. There were times I would think of my wife when I was in my lover. I never was proud of myself.

I vowed to stay away.

The following spring, I met her again. We were supposed to meet one night when I was in town. I, of course, did not contact her until it was late, and she declined. However, we sent each other sexy messages throughout the next day. She finally gave me the address to her apartment. I went. We fucked. I left.

I vowed never to do it again.

It has been ten months. I have not seen my lover since then. Seven months ago, my wife came with me to see my daughter with me, and my lover spotted us together eating breakfast. We were just finished and I hurried us out before a terrible confrontation. We were all in the same restaurant. She emailed me about it, wanting to know who I was with. I lied. Of course.

I told my wife she was a former lover I had after my divorce and that she often contacts me. I painted her to be a stalker in case she turned up in the future.

Two months after that, I came back alone and saw her at a local bar. I tried to leave unnoticed, but she chased me down, calling my name. She was drunk. I could tell by the sway in her stance and how her words slid from her mouth.

"You look so young." It was the first thing out of her mouth. She was always commenting on my age.

She asked me about the woman she saw me with over breakfast. She asked me where I am staying. She was becoming attached to me. Our flings were more than that to her. She had feelings for an imposter.

I said goodbye to my lover that night. I vowed never to contact her again. I blocked her from my phone. I emailed her and said that I was looking to settle down and have children and that the space between our towns (several hundred miles) made it difficult to continue. I knew the children comment would sting. She was too old to have them any more. I wanted to emphasize that I wanted a younger fertile woman and a family. I wanted her to feel the reality that she will never have one. I bet she even felt used. It was cruel and cold. I think it had the desired effect. I deleted that email account after I sent my message to her.

It's been ten months since our last fuck. I have not heard from her. She has not heard from me.

Like I said, I read a lot of these. The truth is that cheating is dark. It is evil. What I did comes from a very insecure and malevolent part of myself. It is a part of myself I would like to destroy. It is like a shadow. As the sun sets, it gets longer and longer until everything sinks into the darkness.

Therefore, if you cheat, take a deep look within. Peer into the grotto. If your affair was a one time thing, perhaps there is hope for you. However, if there is a pattern, maybe you should be honest with yourself. Maybe you are in the darkness like me.