Caught in the Act, Again and Again

I met this older guy online last year, late at night when my husband was asleep. We started with texts, then video chats. He knew I was married from day one, never pressured me to break ties. Just a secret fantasy outlet for both of us. We'd set up rendezvous in some quiet hotel rooms downtown. It always felt so wrong and dangerous, yet thrilling at the same time. The first few times were shaky but we got into our routine: I'd wear nothing but my wedding ring and his handcuffs. He'd take control immediately, stripping me of all inhibitions. I remember one encounter vividly. He pinned me down on the bed, eyes locked with mine. Slowly unbuttoning my shirt till it was undone, trailing fingers over every inch of skin exposed. Kissing up my neck to my lips, hands squeezing my breasts roughly as he entered me from behind without a word. It hurt so much but I needed that pain, wanted more of it. He slammed into me repeatedly, hitting spots deep inside that made me see stars. Panting, moaning out his name, every thrust was like a confession to him and to myself. When he finally came, spilling hot seed inside me, we both lay there breathless. I could feel my husband's ring around my finger as evidence of our taboo liaison. Neither of us said much after that but I knew the forbidden thrill wouldn't stop here.