Covid Killed My Sex Life

Photo by Adi Goldstein on Unsplash

Unzipping his pants in the back seat, I stroked him as we kissed. I was horny too, but I knew he needed me to do this. Taking him in my mouth, his pre-cum, flowed out of him as I ran my tongue over the head.

I love how his cock tastes and feels in my mouth.

I bobbed my head on him, mixing my saliva with his dribbling fluid. When he was slick, I took him in my hand and pumped him deliberately.

He moaned as he lay his head back.

“Does that feel good?” I asked sweetly.

“God, yes, don’t stop…” Breathing harder now.

Sucking him again, he began to fuck my mouth as I closed my lips around him. His hip thrust up to meet me as I bottomed out on his cock.

He was close.

“Jerk me off,” he begged.

Taking his shaft in hand, I stroked him until he came in long wet ropes. Moaning and breathing hard with each jet, I held him until he finished.

It was so hot. I love making him cum.

“I needed that, thank you.” He uttered, his breathing returning to normal. We kissed and then put ourselves back together.

I couldn’t go home looking like I’d just sucked a cock, now could I?

How did we get there?

He sent me a text — 

Do you have time to meet?

It was after nine, and I was tired. But I’m always tired and wanted to see him anyway. We hadn’t seen much of each other since the Covid lockdowns in mid-March.

I replied — 


I told my husband my friend wanted help with something for about an hour. He didn’t care.

It wasn’t unusual. I help her with her home-based business when things get busy, or we meet for a drink and a chat. More often than not, though, when I’m with her, I’m really with my affair partner.

She’s my cover story and wingman. She was the one who first recommended I find someone, and I’m not sure I could have done it without her.

If I’m going on a date, she’ll call the day before to set up the cover story. She’d pick me up at home for the girl’s weekend…I’d spend with my lover.

She’s a great friend, I trust her, and know she’s got my back because — she knows my hub. And incidentally, she wasn’t the only one to recommend I find a man after meeting him.

It was a warm summer night, so I slipped on my flats and headed out in my t-shirt.

He was walking across the parking lot as I pulled up. He looked so good I wanted to jump him right there. I was starving for sex. I was so frigging horny I was aching.

We drove to a quiet lane behind a strip mall and moved to the back seat. We kissed and talked for a few minutes. He opened my shirt, and I rubbed his cock through his jeans and, well, you already know the rest.

How we really got there

We had been planning a foursome with another couple for a few weeks, and our group chat got pretty hot. We were all feeling it, but there was little the two of us could do.

The other couple could at least fuck, but he and I hadn’t seen each other in weeks. It was all a little too much for him that night, so he hit me up.

I take a long time to orgasm, and I usually need a toy, so there was no point in me getting worked up in the car. 

But I love getting him off. I get this intense feeling of empowerment when I make him cum. I don’t know why it feels like-

“Touch down! Boo ya!”

It’s goofy, I know, but doing that for him? Mmmmm. I love him, but God, I LOVE his cock!

My pussy was so hot by time I got home I felt like I was going to explode. I knew I wouldn’t sleep until I orgasmed, so I fingered myself to climax in our ensuite, and climbed into bed. 

No Room In the Bubble

As fun and easy to arrange as it was, we only see each other every three to four weeks since Covid Phase Two started. During the lockdown, it was even less. While I have a ready-made excuse to get out the door, he doesn’t.

It’s a little hard to sign your affair partner up for your social bubble when you have no other connection to him. We met on Ashley Madison two years ago as strangers looking for someone. And to the rest of the world, we’re still strangers.

Every once in awhile, he’ll make arrangements with a friend for dinner. Depending on the plan, he’ll see me, or we will piggyback off the dinner and meet up later. None of his friends know what he’s up to, so he has to keep in touch with them to keep his cover story active.

Working without a wingman, he’s a solo cheater, which can be safer (no one to turn you in), but it’s a little harder to coordinate. Add covid to that, and everything became ten times harder.

When he can make arrangements, we’ll book a hotel or Air BnB. It’s much better than the car, of course, but we were only able to start that when we went to Phase Two.

He snuck out that night, which is his other option. He’s done it a couple of times, but there’s always a risk in doing that. His wife often goes to bed early, but it’s never a guarantee.

The other problem with sneaking out is he doesn’t have a reason to be out in the evenings. Their adult daughter also lives with them, and she’s up all night, so he can’t even think about it when she’s around.

During the lockdown, she was home 24/7, and the only reason we met on this night was she had slept at a friend’s place.

So, if anyone found out he’d left the house, he’d be toast. In their area, there’s no plausible cover story to answer the question –

“Where were you?”

Their subdivision has very little around. The only place open that late is a gas station, and he doesn’t smoke, so he has no reason to go there.

Sex Starvation

Why go through the trouble?

Both of us come from dead bedrooms, where our sex lives shrivelled up and died over a decade ago.

If we don’t get to see each other, we’re celibate. No crumbs fall off the plate because there’s no plate. All we have is each other and the friends we make along the way.

I went without for nine years, and I decided I’m not going without for a second longer than I have to ever again. Then Covid came along and took away the little sex I was getting.

And that’s how Covid killed my sex life.

Author of How to Cheat: Field Notes from an Adulteress, several short stories, I'm active on Medium @teresajconway where I sometimes share my blog posts.

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