Happily Deceived

I slipped quietly into bed because Shane was already asleep.  
I had showered off the remnants of my betrayal and
hoped sleep would soften my guilt.  
 
He moved cautiously like a curious boy to  
find my hand and led it to his hardened cock.  
Curling my fingers around its heat, I knew
I'd done nothing to earn its praise but to be alive.  
 
How is it that my mere presence pleased
this man who loved me without condition or demands?
Why would a woman so loved seek pleasure in another?  
I rose onto my knees and knelt over him  
as if praying toward a mythical place of forgiveness.  
I whispered, “I love you,” touching his smoothness.
I wondered if he sensed my lips' infidelity.
 
Kissing the tip of him, I tasted the
familiar saltiness of deception.  
The gentle shaking in his breath said  
he was happily deceived.