Sex After Betrayal: Rebuilding Intimacy After Infidelity and Porn Addiction
Sex after betrayal is one of the most confusing parts of healing from infidelity.
You can want to be close to your spouse and, at the very same time, feel sick to your stomach at the thought of being naked and vulnerable with the very person who broke your heart.
You might even have moments where sex feels good or connecting… and then afterwards you’re hit with a wave of panic, shame, or fear:
“Am I being stupid?”
“Is he just using me because he doesn’t have porn right now?”
“If I give him sex, will he ever really change?”
If any of that sounds familiar, you are not crazy. You are a traumatized nervous system trying to navigate intimacy with the person who caused the trauma. That is unbelievably hard.
This post will walk through:
Why sex feels so complicated after betrayal
How to tell the difference between addictive sex and healthy, intimate sex
What to do with ideas like “90 days of no sex”
How to think about initiation and pressure
Reflection questions for both of you to work through together
Why sex feels so confusing after infidelity
When there has been infidelity, porn addiction, or sexual acting out, sex is no longer “just sex.” It’s tangled up with:
Years of secrecy and lies
Spiritual or church messages about sex and marriage
Your body’s memory of moments you now know were happening alongside betrayal
Fear that if you let your guard down, the next shoe will drop
So you might genuinely love your spouse and desire them
and feel like your body is screaming “Danger!” when sex comes up.
That “I feel stupid for having sex with him” voice is not stupidity. It’s your trauma and your attachment system both trying to protect you:
The trauma part remembers the deception, porn, and sexual sin and says:
“This is how you got hurt. Be careful.”The attachment part says:
“This is my person. I still want closeness, touch, and connection.”
Both are telling the truth about something real. You’re not broken because you feel both.
Addictive sex vs. intimate, connecting sex
Many betraying spouses have learned sex through porn, not through real, mutual connection. Porn trains the brain that:
Sex is about performance and intensity
The man’s pleasure is central; the woman’s pleasure is often faked
Women always want more and never need slowness, safety, or emotional presence
So when you get married, you may experience:
Sex that feels “done to” you, not with you
Him getting “lost in his own world”
Little awareness of your pain, discomfort, or lack of pleasure
You feeling like you always get the “short end of the stick”
That’s not just “bad sex.” That’s a distorted sexual template.
A helpful way to look at it:
Addictive / porn-driven sex often looks like:
One-sided, focused on release
Little emotional presence or attunement
Fast, rough, or ignoring your body’s signals
You feeling like an object, not a partner
No real connection after sex—just “done and done”
Healthy, intimate sex grows toward:
Sex that is mutual, not pressured
Emotional presence—both of you are “in the room”
Curiosity about what feels good and what doesn’t
Space for “no,” “slow down,” or “can we stop?” at any point
Connection afterward—some form of tenderness, care, or check-in
Not every sexual encounter will look like a Hallmark movie. But you should be able to say:
“I felt seen, safe enough, and like my body mattered too.”
If your spouse is still very self-focused, detached, or ignoring what you’ve said doesn’t feel good, that’s a sign that more healing and growth are needed before you can have the kind of sex you truly deserve.
Who sets the pace for sex after betrayal?
Short answer: the betrayed partner’s nervous system.
After betrayal, your body is not just a “marital duty.” You are a whole person, and your trauma needs to be honored.
If you’ve noticed:
You feel unsafe if he says he wants sex
You feel more pressured or obligated when he shares his desire
It only feels okay if you initiate
…that makes a lot of sense.
For a season, it can be very appropriate and protective for the couple to agree:
“Right now, only the betrayed spouse will initiate sex.
The betraying spouse will not ask, hint, pout, or push.”
This is not about punishing the betrayer. It’s about:
Returning agency and choice to the betrayed spouse
Calming the nervous system that has learned “his desire = pressure and danger”
Creating a season where your “yes” can actually be a free, unmanipulated yes
If you’re the betraying spouse, this might feel unfair, especially if you’re newly sober and craving closeness. But honoring this boundary is one of the ways you show:
“Your safety matters more to me than my sexual release.”
What about a “90-day break” from sex?
Many recovery programs talk about a 90-day “sexual fast” or “no-sex period.” This can be confusing and loaded:
For the betrayed spouse, it can feel like yet another loss:
“He took intimacy away with porn, and now I also have to give up sex?”For the betraying spouse, it can feel like punishment or like “proof” they’re an addict.
But at its best, a 90-day pause is not about punishment. It’s about:
Giving space to stabilize sobriety
Doing emotional and spiritual work, not just sexual behavior management
Letting both bodies calm down and reset
Creating room to have important conversations without sex blurring the picture
A 90-day pause can be helpful if:
The betraying spouse has solid support (a CSAT or similarly trained clinician)
You both agree on the boundaries (no porn, no masturbation, no “substitute outlets”)
You use that time to talk about what healthy intimacy could look like in the future
But it can also backfire if:
It’s imposed on the betrayed spouse instead of for their safety
The betraying spouse uses it as an excuse to emotionally withdraw
The betrayer doesn’t actually commit to sobriety and honesty during that time
If you’re considering a 90-day break, talk with your therapists and ask:
What is the purpose of this for us?
What support is in place so I (betrayed spouse) am not carrying all the responsibility?
How will we know when and how to begin sexual touch again?
“If I have sex with him, am I part of the problem?”
This is such a tender fear. Many betrayed wives quietly think:
“If I let him back in sexually, I’m just rewarding bad behavior.
He gets porn for years and he still gets sex with me.
If I don’t take anything away, will he ever really change?”
Here’s what’s true:
You did not create his addiction or betrayal.
You are not responsible for his sobriety or relapse.
Your choice to have (or not have) sex does not cause his acting out.
You are allowed to:
Want sex sometimes for closeness, comfort, and pleasure.
Feel grief or regret later and still not be “stupid.”
Change your mind next time and say, “I need to pause again.”
From a faith perspective:
God designed your body with desire on purpose. Wanting sexual connection with your spouse—even a spouse who has betrayed you—does not make you complicit in his sin. It makes you human, attached, and longing for what God originally intended sex to be: safe, mutual, honoring, and sacred.
The work now is not to shut down your desire, but to protect it:
by honoring your “no,”
by insisting on safety and truth,
and by allowing your “yes” to be free, not coerced.
When your spouse is still early in recovery
Sexual healing is deeply connected to recovery work. If your spouse:
is just starting counseling,
hasn’t yet done full disclosure,
isn’t consistently accountable and honest,
…it’s going to be much harder for your body to feel safe sexually—and that’s appropriate.
Some key responsibilities for the betraying spouse:
Commit to high-quality, trauma-informed help (CSAT or similarly trained clinician)
Engage in regular recovery work (groups, homework, honesty, spiritual care)
Learn empathy—not just “I’m sorry,” but truly feeling and naming your pain
Respect every boundary around sex, even if it’s inconvenient or disappointing
Sex is not the reward for good behavior or white-knuckled sobriety.
It’s the fruit of deeper change: honesty, humility, empathy, and faithfulness over time.
Practical guideposts for sex after betrayal
These are not rigid rules, but gentle markers to help you discern what’s wise right now:
Probably not a good time for sex if:
You just had a big conflict or new disclosure
You’re feeling pressured, obligated, or frozen
You don’t know the truth about acting out (no disclosure yet)
Your gut is saying, “Something is off,” and you feel like you’re overriding yourself
More appropriate conditions for sex might be:
You’ve talked about it beforehand and both feel cautiously okay (not 100% anxiety-free, but not panicked)
The betraying spouse is willing to pause, slow down, or stop at any point without sulking or pouting
There’s some sense of emotional connection, not just physical drive
You’ve agreed on how you’ll care for each other afterward
Consider using simple language during sex:
“Slower.”
“That doesn’t feel good.”
“Can we pause?”
“I’m starting to feel overwhelmed. Can we stop and just cuddle?”
If your spouse cannot honor those signals, that is not safe sex. That’s reenacting harm.
Reflection questions for couples
You can use these questions in journaling, individual therapy, or couple sessions. Go slowly. You don’t have to answer all of them at once.
For the betrayed spouse
When I think about sex right now, what emotions come up (fear, longing, numbness, disgust, grief, hope, etc.)?
What situations make my body feel more unsafe sexually? (e.g., when he mentions wanting sex, when I’m tired, after a conflict, after a recovery meeting, etc.)
What situations make my body feel a little more safe? (e.g., when he’s been emotionally present, when I’m believed and validated, when I feel spiritually connected to God)
Do I feel like I have permission—from God, from myself, from the people around me—to say “no” right now? What would I need to really believe that?
When I have said “yes” to sex recently, what was I hoping for? (Connection? Reassurance? Comfort? Pleasure? To avoid conflict?)
If I imagined sex in the future feeling truly safe and honoring, what would be different from how it has been?
For the betraying spouse
How have porn, fantasy, or affairs shaped my expectations of what sex should look like?
When my spouse says “no” or pulls back sexually, what story do I tell myself? (e.g., “I’m rejected,” “I’m being punished,” “she’s controlling,” or “she’s traumatized and protecting herself”?)
In what ways have I prioritized my own pleasure over her comfort and safety—before and after discovery?
How can I show with my actions (not just words) that her safety is more important than my orgasm?
What am I doing today to grow in empathy, humility, and emotional presence—so that I can eventually offer a different kind of sexual partner to her?
How am I inviting God into my recovery, not as a way to bypass responsibility (“I’m healed, I’m no longer an addict!”), but as a source of strength to stay honest, humble, and accountable?
For you to explore together
What has sex meant to each of us historically—before betrayal was exposed?
When have we felt the most emotionally connected, sexually or non-sexually? What made those moments feel safe or sacred?
What specifically makes sex feel unsafe or pressured for the betrayed spouse right now? Can we name those without defensiveness?
What might a temporary structure look like (e.g., only betrayed spouse initiates, or a short-term sexual pause) that honors her nervous system and his recovery work?
How can we invite God into this part of our healing—not to rush us, but to be near to us in the confusion, shame, and longing?
A gentle word of hope
Sex after betrayal will never go back to the old normal—and that’s actually a good thing.
That “old normal” was built alongside secrets, addiction, and pain you didn’t know about.
What you’re working toward now is something new:
Sex that is honest
Sex that is trauma-informed
Sex that honors your body and your story
Sex that reflects a God who sees, protects, and cherishes you
If you are in Florida and need support walking this road—individually or as a couple—you’re welcome to reach out to me at Root to Bloom Therapy in Pensacola. We can work together in person (Pensacola / Jacksonville for disclosures) or via telehealth across Florida to help you find safety, clarity, and a path forward that fits your story and your faith.
You are not crazy. You are not alone. Your body and your boundaries are worthy of respect.
