Secret Desires of a Good Wife
I had always been the perfect wife: loyal, loving, and supportive. But deep inside, I harbored a secret I didn’t dare to share, not even with my husband. Every time we went out with friends or I noticed a man’s gaze lingering on me, a thrill shot through my body, awakening a desire I couldn’t ignore.
It started as harmless fantasies—little thoughts I’d quickly brush away. But then, I met him. He was one of my husband’s colleagues, charming and confident, with eyes that seemed to see right through me. We exchanged a few words, nothing inappropriate, just small talk, but the way he looked at me made my heart race.
That night, lying in bed next to my husband, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I imagined what it would be like if he found out about my fantasies, how he would react. But the idea of actually telling him terrified me. So, I kept it to myself, letting the desire grow in the dark corners of my mind.
The next time we met, it was at a work event. I wore a dress that I knew would catch his attention. And it did. Our eyes met across the room, and I could feel his desire, as if it was calling out to mine. My husband was busy talking to some clients, unaware of the fire that was igniting within me.
I excused myself to the bathroom, needing a moment to cool down. But he followed. Standing outside the door, he whispered my name, his voice thick with anticipation. My heart pounded in my chest as I opened the door and stepped out. We were alone in the hallway, our breaths shallow and hurried.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “You want this, don’t you?”
My body trembled as I nodded, unable to speak. His hand brushed against mine, sending shivers down my spine. “But you’re married,” he reminded me, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Yes,” I whispered back, the word hanging in the air between us. I knew it was wrong, but the forbidden nature of it made it even more thrilling. I leaned in, just enough to feel the heat of his body, the temptation overwhelming.
“I won’t tell him,” he promised, his lips inches from mine. “This can be our secret.”
The idea of having something just for myself, something that I didn’t have to share or explain, was intoxicating. For a moment, I considered it, the thought of crossing that line, of giving in to my darkest desires. But I pulled away, breathless and flushed, a small smile on my lips.
“Not tonight,” I whispered, turning and walking back to the party, feeling his eyes on me the entire time.
That night, I lay awake next to my husband, my body still humming with the excitement of what almost happened. I knew I would see him again, and the thought of our next encounter kept me awake, my body aching with unfulfilled desire.
I still haven’t told my husband. I don’t know if I ever will. But the thought of keeping this secret, of knowing that I have the power to explore my desires in a way that he doesn’t understand, excites me more than anything.