My life could be best described as fortunate.
I have two beautiful daughters, one just graduated from high school, and her sister a few years away. I’ve been married to my husband since I was 17. We’ve built a wonderful family throughout the years, with no major issues that we couldn’t fix through talking or counseling. I just turned 39, and I was hit with an uncontrollable fear of turning forty. Over the last fear years, my husband and I havent had the best sexual relationship, if at all existent. But I’ve never betrayed him, although I’ve had the chance to on more than one occasion. On November 3rd of last year, I found my husband was sexting his secretary, and had a romantic relationship with her throughout our marriage. Through the jealousy, fear and pain, I had sex with a coworker I thought was my friend. He took advantage of me through my hardship. And I can safely admit now that I regret it.
I work in a large office, surrounded by men older and younger. Matt, a 21 year old coworker, had been one of the more persistent of the bunch, cracking jokes throughout the years of an office romance, a hookup, and everything else in between. Always viewing it innocently, I would laugh along and shake my head, as the years went by, we grew close as coworkers and friends, and his jokes just seemed like usual banter that they no longer bothered me. I became what he called his “work wife” and I began to play along and called him my “work husband” and other than a few long hugs and friendly winks, I never thought much of it outside of work. We were friends and colleagues, and I was much too old for him. I even began considering him as a match for one of my daughters, from how endearing he was. Still, the jokes continued playfully, and I never mentioned Matt to my husband. He’s always been the jealous type, which is hurtful considering his affair and my years of loyalty. I called off work for a few days after I found out, and when I returned, I had no one to turn to. As I was no longer being picked up by my husband, Matt offered to drive me home. And he did so for a few days. It felt comforting having someone to talk to.
When Matt offered to drive me to his place instead that Friday night, I almost felt obligated to. He had been such a true friend throughout this entire experience that I couldn’t possibly deny him a visit. On the way, he made his usual jokes and I laughed, happy to finally have a reason to smile. I again would remind him I’m much too old for him, and mentioned just how great of a friend he was to me. That whoever he ended up with would be lucky to have him. I remember he placed his hand on my lap, and comforted me. He told me to relax, and that tonight he wanted me happy. We’ll get home and he’d take care of me. “You’re my work wife, I only want what’s best for you” he said with his usual wink. I’m not an idiot, and I’m no damsel in distress. I took his hand and held it in mine, and gave him a strong look. I begged him not to ruin this, and that I wanted to remain friends. I reminded him that through it all, I was still married, and even if I wasnt, I could never have sex with someone while I was hurt.
I wish that had been the case. I wish now I had never gotten in the car. I was more vulnerable than I knew I could ever be. When we arrived, I was surprised to see he had a roommate, as he had never mentioned him before. Although it may sound awful, I trusted him enough to go into his room. He told me we would be quieter in there without his roommate, and since he didnt have a couch, we ended up cuddling on the bed. I allowed his hands to roam, even allowed him to kiss my neck at times. I felt in control. I figured I would let him touch me and kiss me, it’s the least I could do for him, and then he’d take me home and we would continue our friendship as before.
But it didnt happen that way. Matt’s touching became forceful groping. And when I began to resist, he held me in place and began to undo my pants. Before I could push him off, his hand was rubbing me uncomfortably. I begged him to stop, and told him he was hurting me, but he continued rubbing me and groping me.
I hadn’t been with any other man before, or after my husband. I had shared that with Matt, and it’s as if for the first time, he was finding it to be true. He pulled my hair up onto a ponytail, and yelled at me to take him in my mouth. I must have gagged and vomited more times than I can count, but he continued anyway, all while holding my hair up and driving my head up and down. I remember feeling embarrassed by how out of practice I was, and how he must think I was awful at it. When he pushed me on my knees, and lifted my butt up to him, I again tried to get him to stop, but he wouldnt listen. He grabbed my hips, and struggled to enter me. He seemed angry at how inexperienced I was. He would occasionally slap me, or would adjust my back by pushing me down, and I would cry out in pain. When he finally had me in a position he liked, he rammed himself into me. I could see myself on the mirrored closet door, makeup smeared and hair a mess. As he had me from behind, I cried throughout. I remember him repeatedly saying “such a tight little work wife” as he thrusted harder, and it made me feel the worst. Is this what it means to be someone’s work wife? Is sex implied when you agree to those office titles of affection that I thought were cute and funny? I felt useless and powerless, betrayed and heartbroken. He then proceeded to rape me anally, all while forcing me to cry and call him my “work husband” He took me like he owned me. I had never had such painful sex. I was worried for my daughters, and the kind of sex they might have with a man like this. I would plead him to slow down, even relented at times and told him to be nicer. But it’s as if he wanted me crying and in pain. He wanted to hurt every bit of me. What I thought would be such an intimate experience, turned out to be gritty and awful.
When it was all over, I checked myself in to a hotel and stayed the weekend. I couldn’t bring myself to see my husband or my girls. I was sore and broken, every hour finding a new scratch or bruise. I continued to bleed vaginally throughout the weekend, and my mouth felt sore days. I wish it had ended there. I went back to work the following week, Matt continued his usual banter with an increase in zeal. It was too late now. I had two husbands to please; one that would lie to me, and one that would rape me.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/cgzpnv/my_work_husband_fm_rough_manipulation_guilt_rape
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