There’s something intoxicating about a man who boldly shows his desire for me, even when his wife is just inches away. Last Saturday, I was at a dinner with a group of friends, including a couple I had known for years. As we chatted and laughed around the table, I felt his hand discreetly resting on my thigh, slowly inching up under my dress.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, but my mind was focused on the electrifying sensation of his touch. Every time his wife glanced our way, I held my breath, the thrill of almost being caught heightening my excitement. His fingers moved higher, sending shivers down my spine.

Throughout the meal, we exchanged secret glances and subtle touches. It was a dangerous game, but one that made me feel alive and desired. I loved the power I had in that moment, knowing that if she just turned a little bit more, everything would be exposed.

After dinner, as everyone said their goodbyes, he found a moment alone with me. He whispered in my ear, promising more stolen moments. The night left me exhilarated and craving the next encounter, the memory of his touch lingering long after we parted ways.