All She Needed...

Author's Note: I'm not perfect, so with humility, I appreciate critical reviews--both positive and negative--it's how we learn and grow. However I'll add this caveat. Let's entertain an agreement between us--I write what I like, you read what you like. We are both good, yeah!

I would like to thank two alpha readers who provided pivotal feedback, insight and suggestions to improve this work. You know who you are and you have my deepest, heartfelt thanks.

Obligatory all characters in a sexual situation are over the age of 18.

c2025 Verisimilinude

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The details about me and my life are unimportant. What you need to know is that I've been married to my husband for a little under two years and I loved him so much that I cheated on him to make him happy.

We married in our early 20s, just as I was beginning my nursing degree. My husband came to me, eager to start a family right away. After a year of trying to conceive, we made the decision to seek medical help to understand our failing. Several consultations and tests later, we determined that I was quite capable. My gynecologist, in her light-hearted manner, said, "You'd better be careful during your most fertile time--even a small amount would do the job."

Sadly, my husband wasn't as fortunate. Turns out he had a low sperm count, due to a childhood injury--an unremarkable incident back then, but one that would have lasting impact now that he was desperate to have children. His doctor tried to give us hope, encouraging us to keep trying, but cautioned the chances were low.

Each month that I told my husband my period had arrived, I felt so crushed. My heart would go out to him seeing the look of defeat and hearing his dejected sigh at his perceived failing. I was in this with him, our shared desire for a child. The words of a loving and supportive wife were meant to give him hope, to cheer him up. "Next month, Baby." I would say, forcing a hopeful smile. But after six more months of disappointment, it was hard to stay positive. My words of 'next month' encouragement began to ring hollow, even to me.

As I entered my second year of nursing and started clinical rotations, I found a passion for pediatrics. The irony of being surrounded by kids but not being able to have my own didn't escape me. The little buggers rarely failed to put a smile on my face, but my heart ached with melancholy for the reminder of what I couldn't have.

What broke me was seeing the fatigue of failure wash over my husband, depression had set in. We shared our feelings, and he confessed that he felt useless, less than, because he couldn't provide for us in the way he believed a husband should. This doubt pervaded him and our love making sessions suffered from it. Our time in the bedroom became less frequent and less connected, even when he felt up to it.

In frustration one day, he admitted with a defeated sigh, "What's the point if I can't make you pregnant?" I pleaded with him, assuring him that he was more than enough, his love was all I needed. We could shower our affection on nieces and nephews. The lament in his eyes told me what I didn't want to hear--he had given up.

I admit, this hurt me to my core. His sadness was fraying our emotional connection, dragging us towards a future I didn't want. His lack of interest and desire left me desperate for the emotional pleasure I craved from sex with him. Yes, I too, felt the sting of being unable to conceive, but more than anything I wanted my loving husband back--the one who brought me such joy in all areas of my life, including the tenderness we shared in the bedroom.

In all other respects he was a skilled lover, and our time together had taught him how to play my body like a fine instrument. An instrument that wanted to sing and to dance to the thrill of the pleasure he brought me. But that was fading with each new moon. I found myself often wondering what the future would bring, if things didn't change.

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This need in me, to be fulfilled, was likely the catalyst for the illicit plan taking shape in my subconscious. Truthfully I had never been tempted to stray, he was my world and I never wanted to hurt him by betraying my vows.

Trying to divert myself from acting on this plan, we discussed alternatives. Medical insemination was costly. He was not pleased at the mention of a natural donor; the thought of someone else touching me was too painful to consider. Finally we talked of adoption. He was initially against it as he wanted a child of his own. He relented when I eventually persuaded him to at least explore the idea. Unfortunately, we weren't in a financially stable enough position to meet adoption criteria.

Months went by with at most a peck on the lips and a cuddle at night, I was determined to have him touch me again to return the man I married to me. This thought of mating with a donor grew inside, fostered in the deep recesses of my mind. I needed solutions to achieve these goals.

How does one even do this, have a one night stand with a stranger? I wasn't naïve to the concept, it was just so foreign to me, something I didn't really want. I had only dated one other man, a jerk from high school, before marrying my husband. Furthermore I was a virgin on our wedding night, so my experience with other guys was limited.

It started innocently enough--searching the web to look for solutions. Maybe there were other couples who faced the same problems. Perhaps they could provide answers. I was too afraid of getting caught to reach out directly, but reading their stories I learned most had been successful.

Even friends and family couldn't help; their platitudes of 'Maybe it wasn't meant to be,' added to my frustration, but strengthened my resolve to fix this. Soon enough all my efforts lead back to the same result--a natural donor.

It wasn't the path I wanted to take, and certainly not one my husband would entertain. I felt lost, I had no one to discuss my moral dilemma with--no one to assist me in making the right decision. Slowly watch the love we shared wither away or sacrifice my vows, giving him the child he so urgently wanted.

What other alternatives did I have? How do I do this without getting caught? I couldn't do a hook up app as it required a profile with pictures; the thought of my husband finding out and seeing the pain in his eyes was just not something I could accept.

Going to a bar for a one night stand was both risky and gave me the creeps. No, I needed to find a site or community that was discrete, one that would make me feel safe in both choosing a donor and where I could assure no lasting diseases that would betray my infidelity.

My mind made up to see this through--at least partially--I began rereading the stories from the successful couples, hunting for a site to suit my needs. Part of me hoping I would fail in doing so, part of me dreading success.

My thoughts turned analytical, only thinking about the practicalities, not the actual deed. I didn't want a young stranger who would be a jerk or brag to his friends, no I needed someone older, someone who would respect the rules I put in place, and someone who wasn't married. I couldn't live with myself knowing I was destroying someone else's marriage, though I sobered at the realization that I would be tarnishing mine.

I eventually found a website dedicated to my needs and criteria. I deliberated on creating an anonymous profile for several weeks before doing it. I weighed the pros and cons and after another frustrating discussion with my husband, I went forward with my plan and placed an ad.

Wanted: An older gentleman, must be respectful and discreet for a wife in need. Must not be married, can provide a recent STD test, must be virile as I have a fetish and highly aroused by the roleplay of breeding with a stranger, however I will be SAFE during our play time.

I felt sick at typing those words but knew it had to be done.

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I hadn't placed any photos on my profile, and even so it wasn't a day before I was bombarded with notifications. Most were from men my age with rude and derogatory comments about 'how they would fuck me so well I'd leave my husband' or send pics of their dicks with two word responses. No thank you, I said to myself. What they didn't know is I had no interest in their size or skill--only that they could produce viable sperm.

After another week of weeding through the site's message feature, one did catch my attention. His approach was respectful, explaining he and his late wife had a similar fetish and he missed it. He offered his name as Grant, though I wished he hadn't. Naively, I thought we could keep it clinical. Remaining anonymous would have been easier. Still, I responded, saying my name was Laura--a fake name of course. I told him about myself, some of it real, some not.

The exchanged messages flew back and forth between us over the following week. Trading vital information I would need to make a decision. The lie slipped off my typing fingers so easily, telling Grant that I was in a loveless marriage, and needed the excitement and spark of passion. I guess the second part wasn't a full lie--I did want those things, but with my husband. I eventually coaxed out of him that part of the thrill for him was taking another man's wife. Something he'd long fantasized about but had not acted on while still married.

His admission gave me pause--I almost deleted our contact. Upon reflection I decided that he'd been respectful to this point and when challenged, didn't deny that it was a morally wicked desire. At least I felt he was being honest with me about it and I couldn't throw stones since I was lying to him about my reasons. Besides, I rationalized, it's not like this was a lasting situation, it was one small moment in my life and then I'd never see him again. He wasn't taking me, he was giving me something my husband couldn't.

I couldn't explain it but something just felt right about it, about him, so I asked if he wanted to test the connection in person. He agreed and we made plans to meet at a café, in a neighboring city about 30 miles from my home. I couldn't take the chance that someone would see us together.

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It hurt to lie to my husband, telling him I was meeting an old friend for a long lunch and I'd be late getting back. He didn't question me, had no reason to--I'd never lied to him about something so monumental before. I was nauseous as he looked at me, fearing that he'd see right through me, but he simply said "Drive careful. See you when I get home from work."

Wanting to be discreet and not share a lasting photo, I had told Grant I would be wearing a red cocktail dress with matching heels, my long brunette hair in a single braid and my general description, he had done the same.

During the short drive, the knots in my stomach twisted with a mixture of guilt and excitement. When we finally met at a quaint local coffee shop, I was surprised at my first sight of Grant. Of course, I had built a mental image based on his description but he didn't match it. I wouldn't have picked him out of a crowd and thought 'Oh, he's hot.' He wasn't ugly by society's standards either. It was that he didn't fit the mold I had created in my mind. Yet, on a subconscious level, there was something that drew me in, an aura of magnetism that commanded my attention.

He reminded me of an aging cowboy from the westerns my parents would make us watch as kids, back before they divorced. He stood a good six inches taller than my 5'6" frame, I felt so small beside him. His broad shoulders and a softening midsection made him reasonably fit for a man of 55, I decided. His salt-and-pepper hair, short with a stylish cut, gave him a distinguished look. The jeans, which emphasized his nice bottom, and the stylish, well-fitted button-down shirt added to the cowboy image--sans the boots or hat.

It was his steel blue eyes that attracted me, they had a way of seeing to the very heart of me. I admit the way he looked at me, it excited me and I felt flush. His eyes were warm with a tinge of sadness, but they promised how hungry he was, how much he wanted me. I chuckled to myself, unable to decide if it was that or the months-long drought that made me damp.

I watched as his eyes scanned up my body, then settled on my gaze. "My word, Laura, you certainly make a striking image, stunning absolutely stunning." His comments caused a blush to sprout on my cheeks. "And that dress--a wise choice. It suits you." He certainly knew how to make a woman feel desired. I knew I was reasonably attractive, but the way he said it, with that charismatic tone, caused a shiver to run down my spine.

We chatted for an hour as the ambience of the café floated around us. His manner was easy and outgoing; he made me feel special and yet respected at the same time. He mentioned being in sales, and I thought it was a perfect match for him. I laughed with him as he told a story of his three sons' folly in building a cardboard boat when they were little. He beamed when he spoke of them, and I could tell how proud he was.

I don't know why I did it; this wasn't anonymous nor clinical. He seemed genuine in his interest in me and what I had to say, sure I knew by this point he wanted me--the signs were there, but it's like he just got me. It felt right, so I shared that I was in my second year of nursing school, enjoyed working with kids, and would probably specialize in pediatrics once I got my certification.

Time seemed to drift away, like the aroma of coffee surrounding us as we talked. I relaxed, becoming more comfortable by the second. I had worried about meeting a total stranger, so I had created some safeguards back home, setting a check-in time with a girlfriend. But the longer we talked, it became clear they were unnecessary. I picked up my phone and sent a message 'All good.' Somehow I knew I could trust him.

He told me of his late wife, that her dying wish was for him to find love again. I could see the sadness misting his eyes as he talked about her. "It's been difficult seeking company after her passing five years ago, but your ad...it spoke to me." Grant shared.

"I'm sorry for any awkwardness. I just...this is my first...you know, since losing her. I feel like a teenager on my first date." As he talked about her I thought, 'They had a strong bond.' For the first time since meeting him, he seemed lost for words. "If you're nervous, you have me fooled. You seem so confident, sure of yourself but not in an arrogant way." I said, reaching out and patting his hand in reassurance.

Settling back in my chair, "Being in your company...it just feels natural. Like in another life we could be good friends." I shared. However, what I was too afraid to admit was how desired he made me feel, the ravenous way he looked at me--a promise of pleasures he could provide. I was beginning to realize with shame, I may want more from him than just his seed.

"Grant, you seem wonderful, like tailor-made for what I'm looking for. I feel like we have a connection. I'm wondering what the catch is. Are you an ax murderer?" I tried to laugh like it was a joke, but internally, I thought 'Fuck, why did I say that? What if he is an axe murderer?' I admonished myself.

His eyes flashed with a look of hurt or concern but then softened with his smile. "Makes me feel better, not being the only one that's nervous," he said, picking up his tea and sipping it, then continued. "I feel it too," Grant said, his gaze lingering on me. "It's like finding that perfect outfit. Everything fits just right, and you can't help but be drawn to it. But I didn't want to admit it too early...didn't want to scare you off." Grant stated as he reached his hand out for mine, squeezed it once then let go.

Maybe it was foolish of me but his small gesture comforted me, reaffirming my earlier attitude of trust towards him. "If confessions are on the table...I contemplated deleting our messages." I could see the question on his lips and quickly supplied the answer. "Your fantasy. We're both adults, we all have them, but your fetish...taking married wives from their husbands...It scared me."

Grant rolled my words around for a bit, his brow furrowing, before he responded. "Despite the negative rep sales people have--I tend to be blunt and open with people. I find it best to just get things out there and know where I stand." The whole time he explained this, his eyes never wavered from mine, steady, as if wanting to prove the veracity of his words.

"Yes it's a fantasy, having the forbidden is something we've all thought about I suspect. I never acted upon it, but your ad, well," he shrugged "it seemed aligned with tasting that fruit." Grant explained. "Why didn't you delete my message?"

His penetrating gaze had me squirming in my seat a little, compelling me to be open with him. "I, uh...told myself that it was because you had been respectful. Didn't try to hide it. But if I'm being honest, it kinda excited me. You must think I'm a horrible person!" I covered my face, my hands hiding me from his judgement and my shame.

I heard his chuckle but it wasn't full of scorn "Horrible isn't a word I would use. Nothing wrong with being excited, I think that's what makes it fun. Maybe the risk as well, gets my blood pumping, wouldn't you agree?" He asked as he gently tugged my hands away, revealing my eyes to him.

"Yeah, maybe." I offered, my voice low, not wanting to reveal the truth.

"Remarkable and more importantly desirable would be the words I would use." The lust I saw confirmed his words for me. "I do have questions, though, before we continue. Why did you insist on an unmarried partner? Wouldn't a married man be less complicated?" his eyes exploring mine, probing for a truth I didn't want to share.

"Grant, it's already complicated, yet simple at the same time. Even though I'm betraying my vows, I couldn't live with myself by being the cause of some other woman's pain, knowing her husband had strayed." Stumbling over my next words, I said, "This...it's a one time thing, with you...I...I have a good reason...but it's one I'm not willing to reveal." My eyes pleaded with him not to press for more.

He stared back at me for long moments. My fingers tightened around the warm mug of tea in my hand, fear creeping in, thinking he might change his mind. His silence was unbearable, looking deep into my eyes, as if he could sense my hidden agenda. At last, he seemed to accept my answer. I sighed in relief, a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, when he asked, "Where do we go from here then?"

It wasn't subtle on my part, but I didn't know where else to start. I fumbled for the piece of paper within my red clutch, my fingers trembling. I was ready to move forward. I wanted to get this out of the way. "Here's my test. Did you bring yours?" He nodded, and we exchanged them. Our hands briefly brushed each other in the process, and my breath caught in my throat as I felt a spark between us.

Satisfied, I lowered my voice and continued. "To be clear there are rules; this is new for me and my emotions are all over the place so 'Angel' means STOP, no condoms because I want to feel you finish inside me, but this one is important...no catching feelings."

I waited to let my words sink in. "Are you good with those terms?" I asked, imparting my question with confidence I didn't quite feel.

His shoulders sagged minutely, and I could hear a note of disappointment in his voice. "Sure, that's fine."

I'm sure he felt the chemistry as much as I did, perhaps hoping it might be more than a one time thing. But I had to be strong. "Let's keep touch on the site. When I know my schedule we can plan a night out."