This chapter contains scenes of m/m sexuality, but these scenes are not the focus of the narrative.
*****
(Author's note: This chapter is dedicated those readers who blame all of Karla's infidelities on her, while painting her husband Matt as an innocent victim. Real life is more complicated than that...)
Matt lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Rejection weighed heavily on him. Karla slept beside him, unaware of the restlessness eating at her husband.
It had been months since they'd had sex that felt like more than a quickie performed out of obligation. Months of dry, emotionless goodnight pecks on the lips before bed, months of Karla turning away when Matt reached for her. "I'm tired," she'd say, or "Not tonight."
Matt would nod and pretend it didn't hurt. But the truth was, Karla had been keeping him at arms length for years. Matt tried not to take it personally. He tried not to think about how the person he had committed to live the rest of his life with, to be true and faithful to, didn't seem to be attracted to him physically anymore, at least, not with the same intensity that he was attracted to her. And yet, rejection after rejection he began to wonder what was wrong? Was it him? Did he have bad breath? Was he unattractive, out-of-shape? Was it his...equipment? Why didn't she want him the same way that he wanted her?
Over the years, these self-doubts kept gnawing away in the back of his mind. It drove him to pour his heart and soul into being the best at everything he did. Maybe if he build a body similar to the men in those Chip-n-dale cowboy posters that Karla kept on the wall of her old bedroom at her parents house, then she'd finally want him that way. Nope. Maybe if he got straight 'A's in college and got into a prestigious graduate school program that would more or less guarantee a high income for life? Nope, that didn't work either. Well, maybe he was just unattractive?
It turns out the internet is full of people willing to give you their opinion on just about anything, whether you want it or not. After one particularly harsh rejection, Matt decided to post a few of his pictures on a popular social media site to see if they felt he was attractive or not.
The results were immediate, astounding, and very revealing. Yes, not only was he considered attractive, but the compliments on his physique and his...package, were almost intoxicatingly gratifying. It wasn't him after all, he thought in relief.
Matt became addicted to hearing the praise of others in the absence of attention from Karla. The kicker was most of the comments and praise came from other men. Matt wasn't sure what to think about that at first. He had always considered himself straight, and didn't find men attractive in the same way he had always been drawn to the female form. And yet, when the men would send him pictures and video clips of them stroking their hard cocks, describing how much they admired his body and what they wanted to do with it, Matt was surprised to find that he not only liked the attention, but was actually turned on by their reactions. But he wasn't gay! Was he? How could he be turned on by other men, and not be attracted to them? After much searching online, he discovered a term that seemed to fit his situation perfectly. Hetero-romantic bisexual. He had no romantic attraction to men, only sexual.
The urge would come and go. In college, he'd drunkenly hooked up with a guy or two, chasing the thrill of being desired. But it wasn't until after he and Karla got married that the itch grew impossible to ignore.
At first, it was just online flirting. Swapping pics, basking in the praise of men who craved his body. But as the years passed and Karla's rejections piled up, Matt found himself craving more.
Discreet hookups became his secret balm. Frantic meetings in seedy motels, back alley encounters that left him buzzing with shame and satisfaction. Each time, he swore it would be the last. Each time, he gave in again, desperate to feel wanted.
There were times when Karla's libido seemed to match his, and in those times he wouldn't think of stepping out. But those times never seemed to last more than a month or so, before the rejections started back again. Those moments with other men made Matt feel wanted in a way Karla no longer did.
He told himself it wasn't really cheating. Getting off with guys "didn't count." As long as he loved Karla and came home to her, surely a few slipups were forgivable. Right?
He clung to these rationalizations like a life raft, knowing deep down they were flimsy at best. But admitting that would mean facing some hard truths about himself and his marriage, and Matt wasn't ready for that yet.
But those stolen encounters grew bolder over time. Frantic hookups in cheap motels and office store rooms turned into desperate fucks that satisfied Matt's body but left his soul in knots. Each time, he swore it would be the last. Each time, he found himself wanting more.
It wasn't just the mind-blowing sex. It was the way those men looked at him - like he was desirable, irresistible. They wanted him openly, intensely, in a way that left him weak. They didn't make him beg for scraps of affection like Karla did.
The man in the sauna last week... just thinking about it made Matt hard. The stranger's skin glistening with sweat as he moved in close, his huge cock straining against the towel just inches from Matt's face. The blatant heat in his eyes as he said, "Want to get out of here?"
Matt had been a heartbeat away from dropping to his knees and sucking him off right there, not caring who saw. Because this gorgeous man, this perfect specimen, wanted him. Looked at him like he was good enough to eat.
When was the last time Karla had looked at him like that? Made him feel sexy and powerful and craved? These days, she barely seemed to notice him at all.
Was it so wrong, seeking that high elsewhere? Needing to feel wanted, even if it meant cheating? Was it so bad to want the thrill of driving someone wild with lust again?
Matt closed his eyes, hand drifting down his stomach. He could still feel the sauna stranger's gaze scorching his skin, could hear the growl of desire in his voice as he led Matt to the changing stalls...
The guilt would come later. It always did. But for now, Matt was helpless against the pull of the memory, the ache to be wanted like Karla no longer wanted him.
Under the covers, he slipped a hand into his boxers and wrapped it around his throbbing cock. Beside him, Karla slept, oblivious, as her husband surrendered to forbidden lust.
The next day, still horny and frustrated after another rejection from Karla, Matt logged onto Grindr. It had been a while, and he told himself he was just going to look. He scrolled past the headless abs and dick pics, feeling that familiar itch rising.
A message popped up from a blank profile. No name, no face, just ripped abs and the outline of a huge cock straining against grey sweatpants.
"Hey handsome. Looking?"
Matt hesitated. It's risky, reckless... but fuck, he needed this. Needed to feel wanted, even just for a night.
"Hey yourself. I might be... what did you have in mind?"
The mystery man didn't mince words. He told Matt exactly what he's going to do to him - bend him over, pound his ass, make him beg for cock. The crude directness, the anonymous filth of it, is thrilling.
"I'll do anything you say," Matt typed out, hands shaking and blood surging with anticipation. "Just tell me where."
Twenty minutes later, Matt is standing outside a sleek apartment complex, double-checking the number. His heart was racing, his cock already chubbing up as he pictured the dirty pleasure awaiting him.
He took a deep breath and knocked. A heavy pause... then the door swings open.
