My name is Nick Griffin, married for 30 years, two children, nice house, good job. Is that all that defines me? Probably is. I'm not a world shattering, ex-model, 100metres swimming champion. I'm just Mr Normal.
My wife is still good looking, we're both in our early fifties and the children are half-way to leaving home (off to uni, back to stay, off to uni again, back for visits; still draining our lifeblood like vampires, but we love them all).
You would think we had all we could want. We even have good holidays, though we do spend a week taking the aged parents away each year now (a week of driving out to a view spot and then going for coffee and then going to another view spot, and then stopping for lunch and then driving back to the self-catering accommodation via another view).
So what could be the problem with this life? Well I haven't had sex for 20 years. Mandy has never really liked sex, she insisted we waited until we were married and then found that it wasn't fun (for her). We tried all sorts of positions and approaches, and it isn't that she didn't come, I would rub or (occasionally) lick her to orgasm whenever I came. But slowly she started saying "no, I'm alright, you go ahead". Sex just wasn't a turn on for her.
When we had our second, Tracey, she just went off the whole business completely. We had big arguments and things were said and somewhere, maybe 2 years after Tracey was born, the ultimate sanction was brought into play. She decided 'no more sex'. Actually, let's be fair, she probably didn't decide; but we were getting little sleep and sleeping together was less important and the arguments were getting in the way and it probably just happened and she wasn't sorry to see it go. I was. I liked fucking.
So is this the story of a series of infidelities as I looked for satisfaction with anybody that could give me release? No, like I said, no sex for 20 years. I have been completely faithful. I made a vow in church and I kept it – even if Mandy didn't keep her side of the bargain does that release me from mine? I don't think the promise is 'forsaking all others as long as you keep fucking me'. And there is that bit 'for better or worse'. This part was definitely worse.
Oddly it got a bit easier when the children went off to University. I work from home, Mandy would go to work and I'd go back to bed for an hour and jack off. I never felt that satisfied, but I did feel released. When we went away together (or with parents) it was harder and by the end we'd always have an argument; I'm sure it's my frustration that drives me; I suspect Mandy must be really, really frustrated either that or completely frigid. I do love her though. So what's the solution?
Again, oddly it has come in a way I didn't expect. This Christmas everybody has come to us. Mark and his girlfriend, Tracey and hers (we realised several years ago that Tracey was gay, I actually think we realised before she did), my mother and father, and Mandy's aunt (uncle died last May, no children, "oh you must come to us for Christmas"). So the spare room was occupied, and the spare, spare room, and the children's rooms with their posters of Angelina Jolie (Mark's Clare took that down and replaced it with 'Sunflowers'; Tracey's girlfriend – also called Clare, well, Claire actually – also fancied Angelina Jolie so it got left up).
Christmas Eve everybody had arrived and Christmas Day I spent in the kitchen cooking. I love cooking, but I love cooking alone. Pour a whisky (or two), put on the radio and leave me alone. I'm only allowed to do this on special occasions.
Mandy came in "How's it going? Need any help?"
"Fine and no thanks. You can set the table"
Tracey came in and started looking in all the pots and pans and oven.
"Tracey, love, go away!"
Mark and Clare hadn't surfaced yet, we heard the subtle sounds of bedshake until quite late last night.
Dinner was great! Although I say so myself. I think if you enjoy cooking then the food often comes out better.
Then there was the traditional present opening, Doctor Who special and everybody dozing before a late tea if anybody wants it. It was Mandy that gave me the idea. Mark and Clare had gone for a walk and as they turned back into the drive they stopped and we could see them giving each other a very affectionate, long, intimate, Christmas kiss. 'And why not' I hear you asking.
"Oh dear, what will the neighbours think?"
"That our son and his girlfriend love each other?"
"You know what I mean, look at his hands, they're all over her"
Actually they were all over her bottom, something which I'd found myself observing with a less than entirely fatherly interest. I'd had to cross my legs.
"They're young, Mandy. Now if I did that with Kate you'd have good cause to complain" that was my father, he could be quite basic when he wanted to. Actually, from the noise last night I think he and Kate had been doing a lot more – for 75 they seemed to be pretty active – but that was in the bedroom so apparently more acceptable. No, actually I did notice Mandy didn't approve. She could hear it you see. It wasn't that people had sexual urges, it was that people saw or heard them that was the problem. Really quite Victorian in some ways.
People drifted off to bed around 11, and Mandy spent the next 20 minutes tidying.
"Did you like your jumper Nick?" she buys me a jumper every bloody year. Like many women she is convinced a man can't buy his own clothes.
"Lovely and you?"
"Me what? You didn't buy me a jumper"
"Did you like your present?"
"Umm, yeees. Only..." here we go "I'm not sure it's quite me. I know I said buy me a nightdress, but, well it's a bit low cut"
"Show me tonight, if you don't like it you can change it"
Women buy for men to change them into boring, soberly dressed, respectable drones that won't attract females. Men buy for women to turn them into sexy, whores.
My mind was whirring now, the gear wheels were definitely finding a new combination.
Upstairs she turned her back, undid her bra and pulled the nightdress down before turning.
"It shows my upper body quite a lot"
"It shows your cleavage, you've got a good bust, you should make more of it"
She reddened a bit and turned to take it off. Before she could, I was behind her, arms wrapped round her.
"What are you doing Nick?"
"Just giving you a Christmas cuddle"
"Hmm, thanks, okay hand me my proper nightdress"
"Don't be silly"
"No. If you take this one off, you have to sleep like that"
I should say I always sleep naked, always have. Usually I made efforts to hide my erections. I was consciously not hiding this one, she could probably feel it against her bottom.
"What? Stop messing around"
"I'm not, I'm serious. Tonight I'm going to take advantage of your body. The jumper was nice, but the real present is what I'm holding now, and I'll unwrap it if you like"
I made to start pulling the nightdress over her head, she stopped me.
"We stopped all that years ago"
"You did, I didn't. You know very well that I masturbate" she blanched at 'that' word "I don't know if you do; but tonight the absolute minimum is you giving me a hand job"
"Don't be so crude, I'll sleep downstairs tonight!"
"Really? And how will you explain that to my Dad when he gets up for a pee in the middle of the night?"
She paused, she was beginning to see the problem. When we were alone an argument was easily the trigger for one or other of us to sleep elsewhere, but with a houseful that would need an explanation to someone.
"Okay, but then if you have your way Nick" she always over used my name when she was annoyed "people will hear"
"I don't really care. Mum and Dad would expect it, your Aunt Madge would be scandalised but I can live with that. And the children would be disgusted, but tough. The solution is for you to be very, very quiet"
And with that I put my hands up her nightdress and grabbed her breasts. She was weighing up the arguments and, I could tell, beginning to realise that if she protested too much people would hear; if she fought back, people would hear; in fact if she did anything but acquiesce, people would hear.
I released squeezing her tits and lifted the nightdress off her, the better to enjoy them. Then turning her round I leant down and deliberately sucked the nipple on first the left then the right breast. She stood, rooted to the spot, unsure of her next step. I slid my hands down to her pants (sensible, matronly pants) and then, as I knelt down I lowered the pants to her knees and let them drop to the floor. My mouth delved into her groin as my hands encircled her bottom to prevent her stepping back.
"Oh, no! I don't think –" she looked down and saw me put a finger to my lips (still holding her left buttock with my other hand).
"We don't want people to hear do we?" my face returned to allow the tongue to do what it wanted to do, which was start to poke into her inner reaches.
She was trapped. The worst scenario would be that too loud a noise of a struggle would bring the children or my parents to find me engaged in fucking my wife (perfectly natural, but definitely private) and her engaged in fighting me off (very unnatural). I should at this stage explain that as far as I know she had displayed no lesbian tendencies. If she had I would have understood, I think. She simply didn't like sex, except as a way of procuring children.
.... There is more of this story ...