I was getting ready to leave when I noticed his wedding ring. Until then, he hadn't particularly caught my attention. He looked somewhere in his late forties or early fifties, and I wouldn't have given him a second look in a different setting. Then I saw that band, and suddenly he was the man I wanted.
A few weeks later, that is still the part I keep coming back to. Not just that I had sex with a married man, but that knowing he was married made me want him more. I hadn't expected that reaction from myself. If anything, my past experience had suggested the opposite.
I'd been getting curious about BDSM and sex in public, which was how I found out about an adult theater in my city. I had wanted to go for a while without quite daring to. When I learned that two women around my age were going on a Thursday night, I decided to join them.
There were about twenty men there, and we were the only three women. One of the women had her boyfriend along, and I was glad he was with us. The attention from the men was intense. I tried some sexual contact with a couple of them, but the evening wasn't turning out to be especially interesting to me. I was considering leaving when I noticed the man with the ring.
I assumed some of the other men probably had partners too. I didn't know. He was the one whose wedding ring I could actually see, and that visible difference mattered far more to me than how anyone looked. Men I'd found more physically attractive stopped being the ones I wanted to be close to.
I ended up having sex with him. At some point, I asked how long he'd been married, and he told me more than thirty years. That answer affected me more strongly than anything physical that happened between us. I can describe it plainly now, but I still don't have a comfortable explanation for it.
When friends' partners have hit on me before, I've felt put off. Their being attached wasn't an invitation or an extra attraction. It made the attention unwelcome. So I can't pretend I'd always known this about myself and had finally found an opportunity. What happened that night ran directly against the reaction I was used to having.
Since then, I've caught myself fantasizing about going back and meeting another married man, perhaps more than one. The idea appeals to me, and I feel guilty about it too. I don't know whether I'll act on it.
I don't know what I want to do with that. I also don't feel able to tell my usual friends. I think they might end our friendships over it, which leaves me with something I keep thinking about and very few places where I can say it out loud. That was why I wanted to put it into words somewhere, even without knowing what response I wanted.
