Thanks go out to 'Techsan' for his editing and suggestions.
Damn authors! Always playing head games. I don't even know what I believe anymore. It all started a few years ago when I started reading erotic stories. After twenty plus years of marriage the sex wasn't happening as often as I liked. So after fifteen thousand arguments with the little woman I just said, "Hell with it." If she didn't want to do it that often, then I would at least read about it.
I always thought I knew what kind of person I was. But, after reading so many stories I don't know anymore. I should just stop reading the damn stories but I can't. I'm addicted and I don't want to be. It's kind of like reading "The Inquirer," a trashy magazine. I just want to know.
Reading this shit is as bad as smoking, drinking, or even taking pot. It's addictive and ruining my life. My mind just doesn't seem to have the answers anymore. Fantasies, realities, truth, lies. I can't seem to get a grip. Are there other people like me out there? Are most marriages like mine? I wish I knew.
Our marriage seemed pretty normal. Three kids, grown up now, house, two cars, lots of bills. Not enough time together. I guess we put everything in our lives ahead of ourselves, or maybe the sex just got old and not worth the bother. Whatever it was I wanted to change it. So I started reading the damn stories. I had to ask myself, "Fantasies or realities," no-one could put up with some of the shit I was reading about. Wives wanting to swap? Husbands saying, "Fuck my wife, please," parties that turned into orgies. Men bringing strangers home to fuck their wives. Interesting reading but it was "Sodom and Gomorrah" all over again.
All I wanted was to liven-up my sex life a little. I didn't want to fuck the whole damn planet. I did wonder how I felt about my marriage, my wife, my sex drive. I wasn't out to have affairs but to just take care of my own wife.
One day I helped my brother-in-law move some furniture. After we finished we went over to the neighborhood bar and had a couple of beers. When we arrived the place was nearly empty. Then in through the door came in a woman who looked a little inebriated. Maybe in her forties, not bad looking but looked like she has been around the block a few times. She sat down next to me, why I don't know. Speaking with an accent, she said she was from Canada and was coming down to visit friends. Her vehicle had broken down and a man gave her a ride but dropped her off at this bar saying that was as far as he could take her.
She had on a skirt, no hosiery of any type. When she sat on the bar stool, her skirt really rode up her legs. She didn't seem to care much one way or the other. I guess you could say she looked pretty slutty. I'm a guy and there was no-way I could not stare at her legs. I wasn't a saint, I was a man having a beer in the bar. My bro-in-law got up and sat down on the stool on the other side of the gal. She wanted another drink and of course we got it for her. Joe, our bartender, just laughed. He has seen women like this come in a lot more than we did...
I put my hand on her leg just above her knee, almost as though it was an accident. I would just apologize if she said anything. She didn't say a word. I started to get a hard on. I couldn't help it. I haven't touched another woman like this in years. I decided to get brave and slide my hand up her thigh a little. She just smiled as though I had shaken her hand. I slid my hand up her thigh. It was skin all the way up. I couldn't help myself. I slid right up to her pussy. Damn! No underwear on. Just a hairy damp wet pussy. She smiled at me and I slid two fingers right into the moist orifice. It didn't seem to phase her. This must be the type of broad you find in some of these erotic stories.
I was finger-fucking her when I felt another hand on mine. It was my brother-in-law John's. He must have had the same idea I had. We both started laughing. It kind of killed the sexual atmosphere that we created, so I pulled my wet fingers out of her wet pussy. My God, so much wetness. I held my fingers to my nose. It stunk, I mean it really stunk. The guy that dropped her off must have fucked her. Damn, sure killed the mood for me. I said that I was going to the men's room and would be right back. I had to wash my hands, they smelled nasty.
When I got back, I told John I was ready to go. As we were getting ready to leave, she asked us if we could drop her off at her friend's house. Being the nice guys and her letting me get some jollies, we took her to her friend's. I offered to drive and John jumped in the back seat with Charlotte. That's what she told us her name was. She said her accent was French. I should have guessed that when she said she was from Canada.
I was hardly out of the driveway when John had her skirt up and his zipper down laying the hose to her. He asked me if I wanted in on the action and I just replied, "No, Thanks." We dropped her off, actually John walked her to the door. I thought that was nice of him but of course she was pretty intoxicated and we wanted to make sure it was the right place.
The little bit of action I had made me horny. When I walked in, I went up to my wife Kathy and put my arms around her and squeezed her boobs. It pissed her off and she elbowed me in the side. Damn! it hurt.
I said, "All I wanted was to love you up a little."
She said, "Grabbing me by the tit is not my idea of love. Why don't you go and read the porno like you usually do?"
Another argument over the damn stories. How come none of these authors wrote about real life? I don't know wives like the ones I read about. Most of my friends and relatives had wives like mine. On a scale of one to ten, one being the lowest, my wife rated sex around a two. I wish I could get her more excited but it just wasn't working.
I remember the movie, 'Sex, Lies, and Video Tapes'. It was about a man... it was James Spader, but that's not important... who talked to married women and they told him all about their sex lives. He taped all the conversations on VCR tapes. Man, now that's the kind of job I want. All these married women telling me how they lost their virginity and the deepest secrets they kept from the husbands. They would also tell about their fantasies.
Okay, starting today, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to become an author/writer. If there are any women who want to write to me and tell me about their sexual lives and fantasies, I will start a novel and post all these stories after editing them. I'll title it, "The Sexual Life Of The Married Wife." I will not give away names so that the women won't be afraid to write to me.
Now that would be a story worth reading. Maybe I could get my wife Kathy to tell me her story, then I could help her live any fantasies she has. I really want to please her but it just doesn't seem to be working. She is nothing like the women I read about in the stories. In most cases that's a good thing.
A couple of days went by and I got a call from John. He said he got in a horrible fight with his wife and he's not going to have sex with her for a month. He told me he got Gonorrhea from Charlotte. He was afraid he was going to pass it on to his wife Sue, so he started an argument with her about how she always holds sex back from him. So this time he's going to do it to her. No sex for a month. He didn't want to tell her about the incident. I started laughing and said, "Now I know why it smelled so bad." I was glad I stayed true to Kathy. She would divorce me if I came home with a disease.
The holidays were coming and it was time for all our Christmas parties. Our first one was Saturday. Kathy looked great but, of course, to me she always looks great. She had on a reddish color dress, cut to show some cleavage. It was a couple of inches above her knees. We sat with a few other couples who belonged to the club. We had drinks and food, did some dancing. Just being with Kathy made me feel good. I thought I would do like they did in those damn stories and put my hand above her knee and slide it up her legs. Pantyhose, damn pantyhose, I hated them. I just wanted to feel up my wife and I couldn't even get to the goods.
As I was sliding my hand up her thigh she gritted her teeth and look at me. "What in the hell do you think you're doing. I'm not your slut. I'm your wife."
Why does it always work in the stories? I was just getting aggravated. I just wanted to make love with my wife but she wasn't going for it. That pretty much killed the evening for me. When we got back to the house, she told me that she didn't like the way I'd been acting lately. She blamed it on the stories. She always blamed it on the stories. She went to bed and I just shut the door and went to read some more stories.
I was reading about cheating wives. I kept making Kathy the cheating wife. I don't know why, she has never cheated on me that I know of. I always like the husbands to get even. I know that's what I would do if I ever caught Kathy cheating on me. At least I hoped that's what I would do. I was always drawn to those kind of stories. I even wondered if I would like to see Kathy with another man. I often think that, for the instant gratification, the answer might be yes. But then after it's over would be a definite no. I wanted men to admire her, to see how great she was but I didn't want anyone touching her. I wanted her to want me, me only.
The next night after I got done reading the stories, I walked into the bedroom and there sat Kathy with tears in her eyes. It always bothered me to see her cry. I quickly sat next to her and asked, "What is the matter?"
She looked at me and said, "I'm losing you!"
.... There is more of this story ...