Even given what I'm going through now I would probably still do it over again if I had to. Bobby had tried to be honest and up front about it, but I wouldn't listen. We had dated for over eight months and for most of that time we had been sleeping together. One day I asked him when he was going to make an honest woman out of me and he told me that he wasn't going to. I was crushed. I thought we had something good going and then he tells me he has no intention of marrying me. But then he told me why. He was fifteen years older than I was, "When I'm sixty you will only be forty-five and in the peak of your sexual prime. I won't be able to take care of your needs and from forty-five to fifty-five those needs will only get stronger, but as I move from sixty to seventy I'll be less and less able to do anything for you. In fact, there is a damn good chance that I won't be able to help you at all."

I cried and I argued that none of that mattered and that as long as we had each other and our love for each other everything would work out for us. I finally wore him down and we were married.

Now I am forty-five and Bobby is sixty and I'm sorry to say it, but Bobby was right all along and it is killing me. Actually Bobby didn't even get to sixty before erectile dysfunction set in. It was two months after his fifty-eighth birthday when we noticed that he was having trouble getting it up and keeping it up. Another six months went by before Bobby went to see a doctor who gave him a prescription for Viagra. Even with Viagra it was hit or miss. Only one out of three of those little blue pills seemed to work and even then sometimes they would last for a while and sometimes they wouldn't last long at all.

And I wanted to fuck all the time!

I didn't do it when Bobby was at home because I didn't want to make him feel any worse than he already did, but I was using my fingers, a small collection of dildos and even a summer sausage almost every day in an effort to get myself off. I was constantly horny and I must have been giving off a scent because it seemed like men and boys were swarming around me. Guys at work had been hitting on me for years, but before it had all been kind of good-natured. Then it seemed that they were getting more insistent, almost like sharks that smelled blood in the water. When the paperboy knocked on the door to collect the hunger in his eyes told me that he would take me on the floor just inside the door if I gave him half a chance. What's worse is that I wanted to give all those guys, even the paperboy, what they wanted. I was tired of dildos, summer sausages and my fingers. I wanted a hard cock in me, in me and driving hard and making me cum. But as much as I wanted to give in to those that wanted me I couldn't because I had given my word that I would be a loving and faithful wife.

One day Bobby told me that he wanted me to take a lover. "I can't help you baby, and I can't stand to see you hurting. Find someone to give you what you need."

At first I told him that he was crazy to think that I could do something like that and that he must not love me anymore or he couldn't even think of something like that.

"If you really cared for me how could you ask me to take another man's cock up my pussy."

"Do it for me" he said. "Some men love to have their wives fuck other men. It excites them and maybe it will do the same for me."

The more Bobby talked about it, the more attractive the idea seemed. After a week or so of talking about it I finally told Bobby that I would try it at least once. I made up my mind that the very next man who hit on me was going to get lucky.

As luck would have it I was hit on the very next morning before I made it from my car to the office building where I work. Bill, one of the guys I work with, walked up behind me in the parking lot and said, "You should be arrested for doing that."