Every day, my husband demands sex, and for years, I've obliged out of kindness and consideration for him. Though I'm filled with gratitude, I could never voice the emptiness I felt inside. Torn between gratitude and guilt, exhausted by this daily struggle, I chose a double life. When my husband is home, I play the perfect wife. But on weekday afternoons, while he's immersed in work, I claim freedom to satisfy my own desires. During those midday hours when he's sweating hard at his job, I surrender my body to strangers, dripping with filthy arousal as I chase pleasure. All the while, I secretly cling to the wish of finally cherishing myself.