What a difference a year makes. In fact, what a difference a week makes. Let me explain.
My husband Steve and I met in college. He was majoring in Criminal Justice and I was finishing a Bachelors of Nursing. I am a year older than Steve and as such a year ahead of him in college.
We married shortly after I started working at the hospital and Steve was a senior. I worked and he continued his classes. Since I was the first to lose my college naïve sense of reality, it seemed natural for me to counsel Steve on the difference between college and the real world.
Counsel may be a bit mild. Thinking back I was more like a dominant bitch. As a nurse, it comes natural for me to tell people what to do and I found myself doing the same with Steve. I constantly made demands of Steve and basically ordered him around. I never thought anything of it, and if Steve had an opinion of the way I treated him, he never let on. In fact he seemed to be pretty much meek in his demeanor with a "yes dear" attitude.
But I did have a problem with Steve. I knew he held on to his boyhood dream of being a cop. I tried unsuccessfully several times during our relationship to get him to change to a business major. I always knew the man I married would have an office, I just couldn't imagine my husband's office being black and white and rolling down the street. It also disgusted me to think that he would be dealing with trashy people. You know, druggies, street whores- trashy people, not like us. I never considered us to be high class, but we were dignified and educated. Why would someone go through four years of college to tell someone to quit driving too fast or to throw their trash in a waste can instead of the street. He would be like an over educated baby sitter. But Steve was adamant about his chosen profession.
After graduation, Steve started applying to the local police departments. I knew with a four year degree and his high grade point average he would have no trouble getting the job. About two months after graduation Steve received the letter that he has waited for the past 22 years. He had been accepted on the local police department, a large one serving our entire metro area.
I was still being me. I always treated Steve with a condescending attitude, often with open contempt about his new job. Steve however was thoroughly enthralled to finally be a cop. Fortunately, the local police academy did not require Steve to stay there at night like some do. He was allowed to come home and sleep in our bed and then go to class each day. This made me happy as it gave me a chance to control Steve as much as possible and to reverse any brainwashing that the police academy tried to instill in him. It also allowed me to maintain my sex life with Steve.
Sex to me had never been really interesting. I just assumed for the most part it was a guy thing. I had sex a few times with boyfriends before I met Steve. This was usually the required groping on their part, followed by them climbing on top and thrusting back and forth for a few minutes before they finished. I never really thought of sex as dirty, just not interesting. I was also very naïve about sex. I didn't read books or magazine articles about sex and really knew nothing more than five minutes in the dark with my legs spread and a man on top of me. Steve did change part of that after we were together for awhile.
I had a little too much to drink one night and when we got back to our apartment, Steve was in the mood. He tried to ask my thoughts about sex, and I just told him to climb on and get it over with. He asked me if I had ever had an orgasm to which my uniformed mind told him I didn't know. He told me I would know if I did. He then asked me about oral sex. I told him there was no way I was going to put "that" in my mouth and that any kind of oral sex was dirty and disgusting. He asked me if a guy had ever gone down on me and in my tipsy state replied, "Gone down where?"
That sparked an interest in Steve and after a few more drinks I didn't really care what he did. We got in bed, naked with me almost ready to pass out. Doing my duty I spread my legs and waited. Surprise shot through me as I felt pressure between my legs but with no one on top of me. My hazy state didn't register at first and after a few minutes I started to regain my composure. What Steve was doing felt really good. That's when I realized that what Steve was doing was going down on me.
"Steve, stop that, it's dirty and disgusting," I said to him. I didn't push him away and he didn't stop.
He kept licking me with his tongue and it kept feeling better and better. I noticed that my breathing was ragged and coming in gasps. I heard low moans coming from my mouth that I had never heard before. The next thing I know I was doing the Oh God routine with my hips bucking wildly in the air.
When I came back down, I remember the look on Steve's face. It looked like one of uncertainty. His face told me that he wanted to know if I liked what he did. Even drunk and having just had the first orgasm of my life I was able to be a bitch.
"Okay Steve. You can do what you need to do now," was all I said.
The look on Steve's face suddenly changed. He did climb on top of me and enter me. But it was somewhat different. With me being so wet from the previous experience, he was able to slide in easily. And he seemed harder and bigger than he had before. Instead of starting off slow and working up until he finished off, Steve just started going in and out faster and faster. The look on his face as he was doing it was different as well, one I didn't recognize. There was almost a sneer on his face and he would give a little grunt each time he went all the way in. When he pushed into me the one last time, I felt him release in me. I actually felt it more than I ever had before and he seemed to throb longer than he usually does. I thought it must be all the alcohol that we had drunk. He climbed off and I rolled over and went to sleep.
After that day, it seemed like I would look for the chance to get a little drunk. That was the only time that I would allow Steve to go down on me, even though he said he enjoyed it. I still thought it was dirty and disgusting, but it did feel so good. Steve never once pressured me about anything else sexual. On those occasions when I would let him go down on me, he would always climb on top to get himself off quickly.
So now Steve was in the police academy. I still made demands on him. I would make him take me out to eat or out shopping when he would get home instead of letting him study. I think subconsciously I was trying to get him to fail so I could tell him to go get a real job with a real office. I did everything I could to break him and crush his lifelong dreams.
One Friday Steve came home and asked me if I could help him with his class work. I didn't want to but he said he was having trouble in class and needed the practice. He had those sad puppy dog eyes and I just gave in.
What Steve was working on was searching and handcuffing suspects. "Tammy, all you have to do is try to keep me from doing what I am trying to do," Steve told me. I agreed and found a bare wall where I put my arms up so he could "search" me. The second he approached me I turned around and knocked him down. This went on for about an hour. Almost every time he would try to "arrest" me, I would overpower him and either get away or would pin him down. I guess the time I spent at the hospital handling patients much bigger than me had taught me a few tricks.
I also noticed another strange sensation. The power and control caused a stirring in me. It was the same stirring I had felt when I had too much to drink and Steve would go down on me. That night for the first time, I actually told Steve to go down on me even though I had not had a single drink. When he finished he was rewarded by being allowed to climb on top of me to take care of himself.
Steve finally graduated the academy, much to my dismay. He didn't score very well and several times he thought about quitting. Every time he did I would tell him that with his college grades he could get an office job anywhere in town. My thoughts and words in an effort to steer him in the correct career direction seemed to have the opposite effect on Steve. He would always try harder and just get by.
For the next several months I hardly saw Steve. We worked opposing shifts with me on days and him working midnights. I complained a lot about that. Steve told me that he had no choice and would be allowed to put in for a shift transfer after he got off probation after he had been on for a year. We would occasionally have days off together, which I made sure were filled with him taking me shopping and out to eat.
Seeing Steve, but not really being with Steve allowed subtle changes that basically went unnoticed by me. Several of the guys on the department regularly went in early to use the gym at the station before going to work. Steve did the same and I never really noticed how well defined his muscles had become. He also had developed more self confidence and control. At home I was still in charge, but from him describing incidents that occurred while he was working, I started to see the difference.
