It was early in my marriage when my husband and I went camping with two of his close friends for a weekend of rock climbing. After a long day scaling cliffs, we relaxed around the campfire, swapping stories and enjoying a few drinks. The atmosphere was electric-and honestly I was more turned on than I’d been in a long time.

As the night wound down and we headed to our tent, I was so wet. The idea of being passed around crossed my mind but I didn’t know how my husband would react, so I kept it to myself. Instead, I took him to our tent and had my way with him.

But I didn’t hold back-I mad it a point to be loud, letting my moans and cries carry through the camp. I wanted them to hear. I wanted them to know what I was thinking without saying it. I wanted them to know how much of a slut I really am.

The next morning, there was an undeniable air of curiosity in the group—playful looks and subtle smiles that hinted they enjoyed the night almost as much as I did. It didn’t go further but to this day I wonder what could have been.