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My married lover sneaks over for rampant sex sessions then humiliates me in worst way…tormented diary of a Xmas mistress

Stalking her rival's Instagram reveals a horrible truth

AN anonymous mistress reveals what it really feels like to be the other woman at the most difficult time of the year.

I can still feel the heat from his body as he rolls away, murmuring, “I need to get back.”

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The Christmas day romp was over in an hourCredit: Getty
She was left to spend Christmas day without the man she lovesCredit: Getty

It’s Christmas Day, and my married lover has stolen an hour with me, claiming he needed to take the dog for a walk.

His wife, distracted by the kids and holiday chaos, didn’t notice that it was all a cover story.

Now, after three rounds of passionate lovemaking, he’s rushing back to play happy families.

I suck in a breath and force a casual smile. “Okay,” I reply, trying to sound cool and breezy. “You’d better get back.”

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One thing you quickly learn as a mistress: never demand too much of their time. If you push too hard, they’ll get spooked and disappear.

I know this because I’m a serial mistress. Tom isn’t my first, although he believes he is. How naive.

I lie back in bed and light a cigarette, watching as he scrambles to gather his clothes strewn across the room.

“Don’t forget this,” I say, holding out his watch with a knowing smile. He told me it was a Christmas gift from his wife - how thoughtful of her.

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It might sound cold, but I can’t help getting a kick out of the fact she bought him expensive gifts while he gave her a few books in return - or so he tells me.

I toy with the gold necklace around my neck, a gift from Tom. A smile spreads across my face. She may have the title of “wife,” but I’m the one being spoiled.

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But that smug satisfaction fades later when I indulge in a bad habit I’ve picked up since our affair began two years ago: stalking her through Instagram.

Revenge fantasy

Her profile is open, of course. It always is. She’s already uploaded a batch of Christmas pictures with her perfect 2.4 family.

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In one, she’s sitting on the couch, glowing in matching festive PJs with her two kids, Tom, and their labradoodle.

The caption reads: “Merry Xmas, from my family to yours.”

Urgh. I grimace and take another swig of red wine, scrolling through her carefully curated life. My finger hovers over my camera roll. The temptation to upload a picture of Tom and me in bed and tag her: “Merry Xmas from me and your husband,” flares for a moment.

But I know I won’t. These are just fantasies born of wine and frustration. Besides, it’s not her fault. She doesn’t even know I exist.

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This is Tom’s fault.

I’m not a monster. I’m not cruel. I’m just a woman who fell in love with the wrong man - a man who was already taken.

Stolen moments leave her wanting moreCredit: Getty

Brave face

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. I glance at my watch - damn, it’s 2 p.m. My parents are here for Christmas lunch.

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Cue the inevitable questions: “So, when are you going to meet someone special and settle down?”

It’s a remarkable talent they have - making me feel like a real-life Bridget Jones. Of course, they have no idea I’m seeing a married man. They’d be horrified.

My dad had an affair when I was younger, and it nearly tore our family apart. It’s still a sore subject - especially for my mum.

I’m not a monster. I’m not cruel. I’m just a woman who fell in love with the wrong man - a man who was already taken

Anon

Besides, they’re more concerned with becoming grandparents than with my happiness.

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I wonder if we’ll ever have this kind of life together - a normal, public relationship. He says he wants it one day. Says he doesn’t love his wife and only stays for the kids.

But when I see loved-up pictures of them on her Instagram, I can’t help but question if he’s telling me the truth.

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And then, as I’m scrolling through her profile yet again, I see it: a new photo.

She’s beaming, posing for the camera, her hand holding up a gold necklace. The caption reads: “Boy did good!”

My stomach churns. I feel hot, then cold. It’s identical to the one he gave me.

Scrolling through his wife's Instagram revealed an uncomfortable truthCredit: Getty
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So much for the books.

I feel sick. My cheeks burn with humiliation. And, as ridiculous as it might sound, I feel like I’m the one who’s been cheated on.

Inside, my parents are setting up Trivial Pursuit, blissfully unaware of my turmoil. I step outside to get some air and frantically call him. Once, twice, three times - no answer.

He’s probably eating turkey sandwiches and playing charades with his family. The irony isn’t lost on me.

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Finally, my phone buzzes. It’s a message: “Angela, what are you playing at? All the family are here.”

I reply with a screenshot of his wife’s picture, necklace and all. His response comes quickly: “I can explain, but not now. I’ll meet you tomorrow.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I force them back as my mum hands me a glass of Baileys. I smile through the ache in my chest.

I know I can’t feel sorry for myself. The real victim here is his wife. But I can’t help feeling so deeply betrayed.

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I text my best friend - the only one who knows about the affair - and tell her everything. She’s been skeptical of him from the start.

“I don’t want to say I told you so, but…” she replies. “Anyway, I hope you’re okay. He’s not good enough for you.”

She’s right, of course. But right now, I’m not sure I’m strong enough to walk away.

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One thing is clear: being a Christmas mistress isn’t fun. This time of year - with its love songs and cheesy romcoms - only makes me feel lonelier than ever.

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