Just told my husband I'm 'working late' tonight and saw that flicker of hurt in his eyes. He knows. He always knows. But then he just nodded and asked if I wanted him to have dinner ready for me when I get home. That's why I married him. While he's meal-prepping my chicken and rice, I'll be on my knees in a hotel room, gagging on a real estate agent's cock, thinking about how my wedding ring looks wrapped around another man's shaft. The hypocrisy is the best part. He gets to be the good, loyal husband, and I get to be the wife who comes home with a pussy full of strange cum. Everyone wins.