Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, True Story, Tear Jerker,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Rob, in his twenties and now involved with several women, but deeply in love with his wife, nevertheless feels he cannot trust her and thus they must remain apart forever. This story starts with a paragraph Just Plain Bob wrote, the rest is by me.
"The problem, Maggie, is that I never thought you would do something like that in the first place. So in my mind now is the thought that if you could do that you could just as easily do something else even worse. You planted doubt in my mind, Maggie, and once doubt takes root it never goes away."
"Rob, what can I do, what can I say, to convince you that what you believe happened with Tim did not happen? Okay, even if you refuse to believe me, please, please, take me back!"
Then Maggie told me about some radio advice counselor who said that conflict can be resolved by an agreement. That, if it is broken, the betrayer will sacrifice something deeply important to her or him. The husband, she said, agreed that the antique yacht he had lovingly restored and utterly cherished would be his wife's property if he violated the agreement, and she told him if the yacht became hers under those terms she would take it somewhere safe and have it burned to rubble.
"Years later," Maggie said, "the yacht remained her husband's property, and she knew he would never violate their agreement. I will make such an agreement with you, if you want me to!"
Maggie's words, in a quavering voice, and her tears, convinced me that I should at least consider changing my mind.
"Give me a week, then," I said, "and I will let you know."
All this time, we had just talked, and yes I saw her tears. But we did not touch. When I said, "Give me a week" she gave me one of her beautiful smiles, put her arms around me, and kissed me, so very gently, on my cheek.
My God, did I ever respond! Had I been undressed, every inch would have been erect, ready to begin moments so intense that even my best times with Alicia, Debbie, and a few others would been far exceeded!!
But I pulled away, trying my best to conceal my arousal, and coldly told her, "I will let you know."
It was quite a week. More than once, I recalled the words I had been told after the lie detector test had been administered: "According to all indications, Mrs Bartlett has been completely truthful in all of her answers." And I replayed Maggie's words in my mind time and again. "I have never been unfaithful to you. I have never been unfaithful to you. I have never been unfaithful to you."
Still, there was Alicia, my Nubian Princess. I could feel myself bestirring just thinking her name! And Debbie—"friends with privileges"—could anything be better? Maybe I could not entirely trust Alicia, but Debbie seemed a lock. I knew that Sam was unhappy with Jerome's threesome with Alicia, and I knew what I saw that night made me return the engagement ring to the jeweler! But then, Alicia never told me "I have had sex only with you!!!!" Maggie did tell me just that!!
Debbie told me, much later, that she had sensed something was happening, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
I have never been someone to talk out problems with others, especially my mother, who knew she should say nothing about Maggie. My wet dreams, during adolescent years, happened frequently, and I seldom recalled the dream, just felt the stickiness. Maggie, of course, but later the others and especially Alicia and Debbie, made them unnecessary.
Yet one night, thinking about Maggie, and after I had poured myself a drink or two, I woke up, facing Maggie's side of the bed, and recalling a dream—a dream where some torch singer had just sung, I swear to me alone, some song with lines such as "The night is bright and gay, but I'm so blue; My heart must have its way, and dream of you." There was also something about "Your picture on the wall, your smiling face, brings back the memory of your embrace." The singer ended, in my dream, with a line somewhat akin to "That's why I sigh and sip my lonely wine."
Maggie, Maggie, you are infiltrating my thoughts! Do you have a yacht or something very dear to you that I could hold as hostage?
Oh I am good at work, and I know I will not spend all my time here. My work will take me out of town, frequently. That means I will not have to see Tim, and yes I can avoid Maggie. If I want to.
As the days passed by, and the time drew near for me to say something to Maggie, I found myself wanting a bit of solitude to clear my mind. It was not quite sunset, the sky was blue, just a few clouds near the horizon, and no breeze. I took a walk, passing by the post office and the bank, where in a year or so I would pick up the balance of my trust account, some one hundred thousand or so dollars! I kept walking, going no place in particular, and I found myself at a cul de sac, its residents mostly retired college faculty members, their well-kept lawns and hedges speaking of their affluence. To my right and ahead of me I saw a door open, and an older couple came out, both wearing sneakers and clearly out for a walk. They were holding hands. He stopped by the curbside mailbox, reached into his pocket and placed a letter in it. She waited by him, and when he joined her, she took his hand and they started their walk. Soon I passed them, and said, "Good evening."
Again a song came to mind, another not from my era, perhaps from my parents'. I heard Frank Sinatra, in my mind, singing, "One day you turn around, and its summer, Next day you turn around, and its fall."
And I found myself asking myself, "What will my fall be like? Will I, like Sinatra, feel sadness when I hear the laughter of children riding carousels?" Then I heard myself asking, "Will a woman hold my hand as I walk some cul de sac a half century from now??"
And, at that moment, I knew what I would tell Maggie.
Strange, but when phoned her, I heard myself saying, "Meet me in a half hour at the cul de sac a bit beyond the post office."
Twenty-five minutes later, I approached the cul de sac, only to realize that she had already arrived. Her smile, I swear, was identical to the one I saw when the moving van arrived and our families became neighbors.
"I don't want any yacht for hostage, "I told her. "I just want your love, forever."
"You have it, Rob. You have always had it!!"
I reached out and took her hand, and we started walking. But not before I wiped a tear from her cheeks.