The temptation to cheat is a strong lure that almost all of us will have felt at least once - whether you were the once considering straying, you did cheat or you were cheated on... 

Naked, Confessions of Adultery and Infidelity (eds Kylie Ladd & Leigh Langtree, Allen & Unwin) is the ultimate confessional. A collection of raw, honest and completley annoymous  confessions of people who have either been tempted to cheat, cheated or been cheated on.

We were lucky enough to pull this extract from Naked, it's a book full of true accounts from a real life cheater. If you've ever wondered what draws someone to actually cheat on their partner, how they justify their actions and why they would ever settle for anything less than everything, you have to read this! The reality of having an affair may surprise you...
___________________________________________________________________________

I’m number two, the second choice. My lover even calls me that sometimes. Once, in a letter, he referred to me as ‘Second-in-charge of my heart’; most days he’ll ring and when I answer ask, ‘How’s my number two?’. You see, he has a wife. But that’s okay, because I have a husband. We’re each other’s understudies.

We don’t meet often, but when we do we’ve whipped each other into such a frenzy that it’s invariably good. I’m sure the fact that we don’t make love often frustrates him, but it works in my favour. Frustration keeps him interested, pursuing; frustration makes for a marvellous release once the goal is actually attained. As number two there’s no point in being too available. He has a wife for that. I don’t feel bad about this relationship. I probably should, but I just can’t. Yes, I’m cheating on my husband, but if he doesn’t find out—and I’ll make damn sure he doesn’t—where’s the problem?

I’d be quite happy for him to be doing the same thing, as long as he took the appropriate precautions, as I do, to make sure no one gets pregnant or ill or vengeful. And yes, when I meet up with Jay I suppose I’m using time I could be spending with my husband and family. But it’s only once a month, and if I didn’t have him I’d be using those hours to go to day spas or a book group—the things that other women do for a bit of uncomplicated, selfish pleasure. Jay is my pleasure. I do love him. I didn’t plan to, and part of me wishes I didn’t, but I do.

Once, not long after I realised I loved him, I woke up in the middle of the night, sweating and anxious, because I’d realised while I slept that one day he would be buried next to his wife, not me. For that instant, at 4 am, the loss throbbed through me with such keen pain that I vowed to break it all off first thing the next day. In the morning, though, as always happens, I felt ridiculous. We would be dead. What did it matter where he was buried?

So I kept seeing him. Of course I did, though I’ve pulled myself back. I love him, but there are limits. No contact after
hours, no wondering what he’s doing when he’s not with me. Live for and in the moment. Mostly it works. He loves me too, I know he does, even if he can’t say it. And I don’t feel guilty for this either, the loving. It doesn’t mean I love my husband less, or have less of my love available for him.

• Dirtier Bits for Girls!
• Cheating in a Long Term Relationship
• Hitting a Slump
• Heartbroken? Try a 'mini-ship'...