“…and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…”

It’s interesting how men often believe they’re the only ones who face sexual temptation. What they don’t know is that women do too. More often than we admit.

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I’ve been married for almost five years. We have two kids. My husband is not particularly enthusiastic about sex. Back when we were dating, I saw it as a blessing. I was happy he wasn’t pressuring me. But after we got married, what seemed like peace began to feel like neglect.

We work in different regions, so we hardly see each other. For me, each visit should reignite our spark and give us the chance to feel new again. The same cannot be said for him. Work is his first love.

Everything and everyone else are secondary. We have an unspoken schedule in our bedroom. No intimacy on weekdays because he’s too tired from work. Fridays and Saturdays are our only hope. Sundays? No way. He needs to “rest” for Monday.

I should mention that we never do it two days in a row. It’s either Friday or Saturday—never both. And if we miss Friday and he ends up working on Saturday, that’s it. No show. I just end up praying the next weekend works out.

At first, it was hard. But with time, my body began to adjust. It was almost as if I was getting used to the starvation. Still, when I’m ovulating? God. The cravings come in strong, and I have to work double shifts just to distract myself from my feelings.

I believe the devil studies us well. He knows our battles and packages our weaknesses in irresistible wrapping.

One day, I was walking in town when I bumped into one of my old primary school teachers. Not some frail old man, no. This one was young when he taught us—just completed his diploma at the time. Even back then, the female teachers were always all over him. He still looked just as good.

He had toned muscles and a radiant smile. I recognised him instantly and called out his name.

He laughed when he saw me.

“Wow, Abigail. Is that you? You’ve grown into a beautiful woman.” He wouldn’t shut up about how small I used to be.

After some chit-chat, we exchanged numbers and went our separate ways.

Later that week, he called and asked if we could meet. I figured it would be a harmless catch-up—life, school, maybe work. Besides, it had been ages since I went out. So I agreed.

He picked me up in a sleek Audi, smelling like money and musk. Muscles flexing in a casual sweatshirt. I had to remind myself that he was still my Sir.

We talked about life, school, and everything in between. Then he said, “Abigail, even though I am married, I am in love with you. I want us to start something beautiful.”

I wasn’t wearing my ring so I had to tell him, “I am also married.”

It didn’t matter to him. He said he still wanted me. It got to me. I hadn’t felt desired like that in months. My husband was too busy chasing deadlines, and I happened to be in that time of the month when everything in me screamed for male affection.

My mind was racing. For a moment, the man looked deep into my soul. His eyes searched mine. My body wanted to give in but I had to pull myself together and say no.

He refused to give up easily. Before I could say anything, he reached for my hand and pulled it toward his crotch. “Feel how hard I am,” he whispered, “just from looking at you.” And yes, I could see it waving at me from his jeans.

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That was my cue to flee.

When I got home, I called my husband, looking for comfort. He casually mentioned that he’d been in my region over the weekend to visit his family but didn’t tell me because he had to rush back to work.

Sigh.

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If he had told me, I could have gone to meet him. Even if it was just for a night.

Honestly, I think Jesus should give me a medal for fleeing that temptation. It’s not an easy thing to do when you’re sexually starved and ovulating.

— Grace 

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