Cliché 4 - the Slowdown
by oldgrump
Copyright© 2018 by oldgrump
Drama Story: All of the cheating stories have their clichés - I came home unexpectedly - she (or he) stopped or slowed way down on sex - he (or she) started using anything for an excuse to start an argument - bills from hotels that you had not been to - gas receipts from areas that your spouse wasn't supposed be in. They are clichés because any and all of them have happened enough that they become somewhat commonplace reasons for adulterous divorces. Mine happened just that way.
Thanks to Barney R for the editing. As always, I had to mess with it some more. Therefore all mistakes and omissions are on me.
All of the cheating stories have their clichés – I came home unexpectedly – she (or he) stopped or slowed way down on sex – he (or she) started using anything for an excuse to start an argument – bills from hotels that you had not been to – gas receipts from areas that your spouse wasn’t supposed to be in. They are clichés because any and all of them have happened enough that they become somewhat commonplace reasons for adulterous divorces.
Mine happened just that way.
My name is Roger Brian Corbin, 39, by education an electrical engineer. I am married to Lacy Marie Corbin (nee Orlo), 35. She was my muse. Then she decided to find excitement outside of our marriage.
I am a moderately successful technical manual and a very successful bodice ripper fiction writer. It is a mystery to me that I can write a 250-page bodice ripper in two weeks, but it takes at least six months to write a complete and accurate 15-page technical manual or an up-to-date technical textbook.
I got into technical writing because of some problems with people were having difficulty understanding how to use a couple of my more complicated inventions. It did not hurt that I never built the devices (other than a prototype) and licensed the devices to a large company. It was a very lucrative arrangement. I did not get any extra money for the manual rewrite to clear up Japanese to American English mishmashes. I did it because I wanted the devices to work.
I got into bodice rippers because I became addicted to them when my mother and sister let me raid their libraries when I was bedridden from a broken leg and arm in high school.
I had all of my licensing fees and royalties from my books deposited into a private corporate account that only had 4 shareholders. 1 share for me, 1 share for the corporate lawyer, 1 share for the COO, and 97 shares that were owned by a trust; but I held the proxies.
The 3 real people each drew a nice stipend from the corporation, but let the trust grow to a decent size. I was to receive the shares from the trust when I reach 40 years old. Then I could draw as much or as little cash from the trust for my personal use.
Back to Lacy, I met her while I was in the army. I joined after I graduated from college. I served in a research group as part of DARPA and designed some simple gadgets that let their communications equipment work more reliably. She was an assistant to the manager of a company from my home town. My commanding officer wanted me to schmooze her to see what the company was really after. I did not like the assignment, and as I was not interested in an Army career, I told her what my boss was after.
She laughed the most beautiful laugh. She said, “Ditto. I did not like the assignment either but as the boss is my Dad, I am here.”
Well, we went out, and we decided to continue to act normal and just enjoy each other’s company for the time she was in town. When she found out that I was not looking to stay in the military, she gave me her business card with her personal cell phone number on the back.
I mustered out about 4 months after that meeting, and when I got settled back in my home town I called her.
She was surprised and pleased that I called. We set up a time to meet the next day for lunch.
At lunch, she asked me what my plans were. When I told her that I had a couple of ideas for some devices that would simplify most assembly line controls; she was impressed.
She offered to get me an appointment with the HR department where she worked. I accepted. I did not get a job, but I ended up with a lot of licensing arrangements, and consultation fees.
As I thought the lunch went well and it was not all business, I teasingly asked if we could get together for a non-business date.
Lacy got a thoughtful look as if she was pondering a solution to finding a Hibb’s Boson. Then I saw a twinkle in her eye.
She saw that the jig was up and laughed and said, “I would like that very much. You’re fun to be with. I want to be with you again.”
We dated for about six months when we got engaged. Lacy, her mother, my sister, and my mother went into all-out planning mode.
I did the 3 S’s – Shell out – Shut up – Show up. Except when it came to getting the tuxedo I and her father were to wear; imagine four women and two men descending on a poor tuxedo fitter at the rental place.
At least Lacy was practical, black tuxedo coats, white shirts, and for me an ivory vest; and for her dad a light pink one. The vests matched each of the lady’s dresses. The Groomsmen had the same coat, shirt and pale blue vests that matched the bridesmaid’s dresses.
The wedding was held in early November as Lacy loved mid-fall in the upper Midwest. The colors were great that year. The temperature was in the upper 40’s and it was sunny.
The reception was great, (especially as Lacy’s dad insisted on paying for it), and no one got totally wasted. We had arranged for a fleet of taxies for the in-town people, and a hotel shuttle for the out of town guests.
We honeymooned on the island of St. Kitts in the Caribbean Ocean. It was a great time. The sex was unbelievable, and as we were both experienced, we quickly learned what pleased each other. Lacy occasionally liked me to use silk ties to tie her spread eagle on the bed. I would then use a turkey feather or other large feather to softly tickle her until she wanted me to mount her. Sometimes other than just tickling her, I would give her my cock to suck. Other times while restrained, I would eat her out through several orgasms. That was the extent of our BDSM.
I like to occasional do either oral or anal. Lacy used to like to deep throat me with her on top while I was eating her.
We even did it in the missionary position.
When we got married Lacy had said she wanted to start a family, and as my writing only took a couple of hours daily, I got a technical consulting position that paid me a decent salary, and expenses. It also required occasional travel to a customer’s plant or job site. Because of the poor quality of most of the technical manuals and instruction, my main job was to translate garble into English. That also increased the demand for my outside tech writing.
Life went on and after the first year, Lacy went off her birth control pills. We were lucky, and she became pregnant after two months. Our son Richard was born just before our second anniversary. Lacy was and is a caring loving mother. She has neglected me but not the kids.
About 3 months after Rick’s second birthday Lacy wanted a second child. Again we were very fertile. Lacy became pregnant almost as soon as she decided she wanted another child. Sara was born when Rick was just past 3 years old.
Sara and Rick were good kids. Of course, Sara had daddy wrapped around her finger. Rick was just a typical boy’s boy and I loved him to death, but Sara could just look at me and I could see what my life was all about. That doesn’t mean that they did not get in trouble and that they didn’t assist in causing my gray hair. They and Lacy were just my entire reason for being.
We decided that two children were sufficient. I got snipped. Lacey was glad, because of the long term side effects of the birth control pills.
When Rick entered school, I had to deal with a distraught Sara who thought she was losing her big brother. After he came back and sat down with her and showed her all of the cool things he was learning and doing, she, of course, wanted to go to school too. We investigated and found a preschool nearby that had a good rating and an opening.
My bodice rippers were selling and I was writing about 15 a year. I didn’t make a huge amount on each one, but I was still collecting royalties on the first one when I wrote the 75th one. My textbooks and technical manuals were more lucrative per book but had very limited circulation and sales. My trust fund income was such that I now was able to telecommute except when I was needed at a customer’s location.
Life went on, and because of our children, our more adventurous sex was reserved for some mini weekends when we sent the kids to the grandparents. The kids loved those times, the grandparents loved those times, and Lacy and I savored those times. We still managed at least every other night and long sessions on weekends when the kids were home, the sessions were just more tame (no tying up, no feathers).
As a family, we went on all of the kid’s adventure trips. We went to most of the zoos and theme parks within a day’s drive. I got the kids interested in plays. We went to performances in Chicago of some children’s and young adult plays.
My consult work was tapering off, as the devices were becoming more trouble-free, and as I was learning more, the devices were becoming simpler, and the translations were needed less as our producers were getting more sophisticated.
I got to the point where I decided to just concentrate on my writing. I really did not need to make more money, but writing is an addiction as serious as meth, but with no known withdrawal procedures.
Because of this change in working needs, I had a large addition put on the back of the house, this became my office. I put a futon in the space to allow me to rest when the stress got too great.
My being home all the time caused Lace to become frisky. She would often sneak into the office and provide me with the ultimate stress relief. It was not on a regular basis, but a pleasant surprise when it happened. After about a year, the surprises slowed down and moved more into the bedroom. I still got my stress relief, just on a more comfortable bed.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t until we had been married for more than 9 years that some problems arose. I noticed a greater than gradual decline in our sex life. We went from twice a night at first then once a night for more than 5 years to 4 or 5 times a week to now only when I insisted. And now what we do is plain vanilla missionary position with the lights out and little or no foreplay, or after cuddling. And definitely no mini-honeymoon weekends and no office stress relief at all anymore.
It started shortly after Lacy decided to go back to work at the office that her dad was still working at. She was not hired to work for him but for a different product manager, David Morgan. Not being one to hide my concerns, I tried talking to Lacy.
She got a quick look of guilt followed by a look of anger and then she said; “I am no longer a teenager, I am not in the mood as much.”
I let it drop for the time being and decided that I wanted to see what would happen when she was told I noticed. Sure enough for the next two weeks, she tried to kill me with sex. Then as if a switch was flipped, it was back to once or twice a week.
Well, that did not sit well. If I was going to have to beg for sex from my wife, I would stop asking. Then I would investigate to find out what has changed.
I also instituted a personal policy of leaving the bedroom when I was turned down. It took Lacy almost a month to notice.
One Saturday morning; after I spent the previous night in my home office; Lacy sat down at the breakfast bar while I was having my morning coffee. She looked like she had not slept well. She got a cup of coffee from the carafe and after taking a sip asked; “Why did you sleep in the office last night?”
I put my coffee down, sighed, and responded; “It has taken you more than three weeks to notice that every time you are not in the mood to make love I sleep in the office. I get more warmth in the office then I have been getting in my marriage bed. I am very upset that what used to be spontaneous lovemaking is now me begging for a mercy fuck.”
She started to tear up and I was really cranking the volume up. “There is going to be one time too many shortly where I will just stay permanently in the office or move out. You have two choices here, either tell me what in the hell I have done to piss you off or tell me who is getting all of your lovemaking while I am just getting fucked on a ‘when you want me to stop begging’ basis. Do you care to answer that?”
She sat across from me and just looked into her coffee cup. She did not answer.
I put my cup in the sink, grabbed a couple of bananas and went into the office to call a couple of long-time fans of my fiction.
I was in there for a little over an hour when I noticed that the house was quiet. I went out, and the house was empty except for me. I went into the kitchen and saw a note by the coffeemaker.
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