Paul and Sharon

"Are you fucking that little bitch?"

"Pardon me? Who? Of course not."

"Are you sure?"

"I assume we're talking about Sharon. Look, she's your friend; you're the one that suggested the two of us play tennis together on Saturday mornings since you don't really enjoy the game. They live in our neighborhood and it's a very small neighborhood. You've got to be kidding me."

"I see the way you look at her." Said my wife of eight years.

"Honey, she's hard not to look at, particularly in those little tennis outfits. She's all of twenty-two, a decade my junior, she's a real sweet girl and I enjoy playing tennis with her. If I was single I'd jump her hard little body in a heartbeat, but I'm not and neither is she, remember? So let's just drop it."

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't plan to get bitchy about this, so let me put it another way. If I was okay with it, okay with you fucking her, would you?"

"What the hell are you suggesting?"

"I find her very attractive. I've never felt that way about another girl before but..."

"Go on."

"Look, be honest with me. Do you think you could get in her pants?"

"Probably. Her husband is in dental school and works a full time job. I don't think she's getting the attention she needs. She flirts and flashes those tight white tennis panties. What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that this coming Saturday morning you start exploring the possibilities. I'm suggesting that this Saturday morning when she comes over you pass on tennis. You make a move on her. The kids are spending the night with Claire's kids. Get her hot and get her wet. Then tell her you want to fuck her---but only in our bed. And only with me in that bed also."

"Are you shitting me? Are we talking swapping here? Do you want to fuck her husband?"

"I don't think so, not now anyway. I'm not even sure I want to fuck her but I know you do and that scares me. So, I guess I'm telling you that you can, but only with me involved. I'm just looking out for my interests and the kids. The last thing I want is for you to have an affair and fall in love with some little cunt and leave me out in the cold. We'll see how this works out. If it doesn't get messy and complicated maybe we'll try it again in the future. But you have to promise me that if it happens it never happens with just the two of you...fair enough?"

"Yea, I guess so. So what's your idea of the plan?"

"I'll stay in bed when she comes over as I always do; she knows I like to sleep in on Saturday morning. You get her motor running and then bring her upstairs to our bed. Look, one of three things is going to happen. She's going to rebuff your advances. She's going to want to fuck you but not have me involved or she's going to go for it."

Paul watched the nubile young blond come walking down the street, racket in hand, attired in another excruciatingly hot little tennis skirt. He was almost positive that she didn't wear a bra when they played tennis or if she did, it was very thin. He had watched her nipples harden on more than one occasion during a tennis match. Sharon was a couple of inches shorter than his wife, blonde versus brunette and, unlike his wife had a delightful little bubble butt.

His wife had an unremarkable butt; Sharon's tits were smaller than Pamela's but very enticing; they stood up firm and proud while Pamela's had developed some sag after two children. Pamela liked fucking and was very orgasmic; she had become more adventurous over their eight year marriage. They'd experimented with some minor bondage and spanking and it got her hot. She loved to have her sweet little pussy eaten and had recently come to enjoy a finger up her butt. She'd shown a keen interest in fucking outside and in the car; she'd often wear open crotch panties and let him finger her juicy little cunt in public. Pamela was not very accomplished as a cock sucker. She tried her best and wasn't turned off by it, she just had a smallish mouth and her damned teeth always got in the way.

While Pamela never refused to have sex, she never initiated it. She'd move and respond but wasn't much of a talker. Perhaps the thing that frustrated Paul the most wasn't directly related to sex. He and Pamela had been seeing a marriage counselor for several months, sometimes individually, sometimes together. In the private sessions the therapist had asked blunt questions about their sex life. Paul had quickly responded that it was just great. The counselor hadn't bought it. They'd had somewhat of a breakthrough the previous week.

"Look, fucking with Pamela is just fine. She likes sex, she responds, she cums and then cums again. I can always get her off with my mouth and she has a sweet little pussy. I love eating her. I wish she was able to give a better blow job but she tries and she's gotten better. She's not sexually inhibited in anyway. I guess my problem runs deeper. I know this sounds like bull shit coming from a guy but even when we're having sex I just don't feel, you know, close. It's like the sex is almost mechanical. Even when she kisses me goodbye in the morning or I give her an impromptu hug, she just never seems to put her heart---or body—into it. Sure, we fuck regularly, but even after eight years of marriage and two kids I never feel as if the two of us are really connected. I guess I'm really talking about the intimacy issue...maybe I'm making too much of it."

"Paul, men and women have affairs more often due to a lack of intimacy than because they aren't getting enough sex at home. It's the number one reason marriages fail."

"Look, doctor, divorce is out of the question. We've got two young kids and I'm very involved in their lives. Pamela has no real job skills and can be a very needy person. She'd have a hard time making it on her own. In essence we got married too young. Her mother kicked her out when she found out Pamela and I were screwing. She moved in with me and we got married a few months later. In reality, her father took care of her for the first twenty years and I've been taking care of her the last eight. It's amazing the simple things she can't deal with."

Paul continued, almost on a rant. "She'll call me at work or page me for the stupidest, most mundane shit. When we first got married, I guess I got off on, 'being needed'. Chalk it up as my problem, based on my family baggage, I needed to be needed. We've already covered that. It's gotten old. I always assumed that she would grow---grow up—and become more self sufficient. What was cute at twenty is just fucking irritating at twenty-eight. Damn, I work my ass off; I make a very good living, better by far than our peers. I make three or four times what our friends and neighbors make, so money is not an issue. We'll probably move to a much nicer area within the year. I'll earn another promotion and we'll have to move, which seems to scare the hell out of her. I come home and the house is a mess and she's still in her bathrobe. Fine, so I hired a maid. She wanted to take responsibility for paying the bills---except she forgets to do it! She has an auto club card but does she use it? Fuck no! She calls me when she gets a flat or the car won't start. She seems to enjoy being a mother and the kids love her but she forgets their doctor appointments, school registration---and I have to handle it. In spite of the fact she doesn't work, I hired a part time nanny."

"Paul, I wish we had more time. You've made quite a breakthrough here. I'm hearing some pretty strong resentment at your perception of Pamela's apparent helplessness."

"My perception of her apparent helplessness? Give me a fucking break! You're the expert; for what I'm paying you I expect better than that crap! As we discussed at the onset, doctor, I have a graduate degree in clinical psychology; I even started working on my doctorate...with a bunch of graduate level course work in marriage and family. I spent a one year internship in a clinical environment. As I told you, I got tired of listening to people whine about their lot in life---or worse, dealing with true psychotics who will never get better---and decided I could use my skills better and make a better living in the business world. I made it clear that I wouldn't respond to games or psycho-babble. You're damned right I feel resentful. We're not going to sit here and play, 'how do you feel about that'. I need some fucking answers, not bill padding!"

"Okay, I'm sorry Paul. Probably because of your education you are not my typical client. I often end up working for months with someone trying to pull their feelings out of them. You are disarmingly candid and get to the point very quickly; in my line of work that's rare. Look, I have a little time before my next appointment, probably twenty to thirty minutes and, based on my observations, I'm going to lay it on the line. This is way out of bounds when working with a typical couple and I hope I'm making the right call."

"Talk to me." Paul responded, matter-of-factly.

"First, Pamela is totally dependent on you to an unhealthy degree. It is the primary strategy she uses to hold on to you. As you admitted, there was a time when you enjoyed that dependency---even needed it. You grew out of it; Pamela did not. Her apparent sexual accommodation is another part of that overall strategy. Pamela is incapable of separating love and sex; to her they are one and the same. As long as Paul is having, 'good sex' with me, he loves me. As long as Paul recognized how much I need him, he won't leave me. Now let me give you the bad news."

The doctor paused as he thought about what he was about to say. "First, Pamela will never get better as long as you are there to save her when she screws up. The marriage will get worse. Your resentment will increase and it will not be healthy for you---or the kids. As the years go on her dependence will become irreversible and could well lead to a psychotic break. Most people think marriage counselors are here to save marriages. They're not. They exist to try to save the individuals in a marriage from destruction. I know I'm painting a bleak picture here but there is a second issue. Pamela's mother had a long history of clinical depression to include periodic hospitalization. Pamela shows clear and irrefutable signs of that same depression. I'm not talking about feeling a little down or blue. I'm talking about classic, clinical, possibly organically based depression. It's often hereditary; we're just not sure whether it's environmental or genetic. In her current state---and it will worsen without treatment---she is incapable of normal intimacy, with you or, as the kids become older, with her children."

"Do you have any good news, doctor?"

"Not really. I'm currently prescribing a mild anti-depressive. It's not working. If we take her to something much stronger, one of the lithium compounds, for example, it might help but the side effects are unpleasant---as you probably know. Make no mistake about this. We're not talking about a classic adjustment disorder or neurosis as it were once called which responds well to psychotherapy or counseling. Pamela has a distinct personality disorder. She bounces from role to role in her hopeless search to discover, 'who she is'. The problem is, there is no real Pamela inside her head, so her search must fail. With that failure, one day, we will in all likelihood see a psychotic break. Let me give you one more piece of bad news. I've scheduled an appointment with a colleague with a lot more experience than I have in dealing with clinical issues but I see all the signs of a borderline paranoid schizophrenic. Be honest with me Paul, as is your nature, you must have had suspicions? Her symptoms are text book."

"I've always tried to avoid being the amateur shrink in spite of my training but the thought had crossed my mind. Where do we go from here?"

"There aren't a lot of easy answers. After my colleague sees her, I expect that he will suggest that she spend a couple of days at the university hospital. They are doing some radical work identifying and treating organically based depression. Often supplementing certain chemicals that the body is not producing in sufficient quantities can result in dramatic improvement. Even if medical treatment works, Pamela will need years of therapy. Let me put it this way. Assume for a minute that the depression has a chemical deficiency origin and we can reverse it. We can fix that but a lifetime of behaviors have been built up as she has attempted to deal with her own inability to function as a healthy adult. The personality disorder is still there and it's ingrained. There is no magic drug to fix that, only years of intense---possibly inpatient---psychotherapy."

"I've got excellent medical benefits and money shouldn't be an issue. What do I need to do?"

"Ultimately, you need to get a divorce---for the sake of both of you. Right now she would fold up completely if you left her. A separation won't work. As long as you're still married, you're still there for her to depend on. You need to continue normally, well as normal as she perceives normal to be. No radical changes in your activities. Try to be patient but don't suddenly change who you are---at least as she sees you. Unless she has some sort of miracle recovery---which is not likely---custody will not be an issue. I'm going to give you the name of an attorney with experience in this area. You'll get the kids but expect to pay her some form of alimony, or, rehabilitative maintenance as they now call it, for years."

It was following that conversation that Paul had decided that fucking his hot little blond tennis partner was not going to happen. He had awakened Pamela before sunrise and made love to her, bringing her off several times. He had told her that he had reconsidered and just wasn't comfortable making a move on Sharon. Pamela had been pleased as if that was the conclusion she had hoped her husband would come to. Paul and Sharon played tennis. She had flirted more than normal, finding excuses to touch him. It had started to rain and they had retreated to his car to wait out the shower. Her short tennis skirt was pushed up high enough to completely expose the crotch of her white tennis panties. He could clearly see the outline of her little slit through the thin material. His cock was rock hard. She moved their conversation in a dangerous direction.

"Are you and Pamela happy together?" She quietly asked.

"Happiness is sort of relative. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. Ben and I started dating in high school. I always believed we would get married---that he was the man of my dreams. Now I think he's having an affair."

"What? How could he find the time? If he's not in dental school he's working full time for the building company."

"I'm pretty sure, oh hell, I've found the evidence, a woman knows. It's with a girl in his school study group. I put off going for my graduate degree to help put Ben through dental school. Now it's almost as if I'm not good enough or smart enough or, something. Right now I'm somewhere between having an affair of my own or just getting a divorce. We don't have any children or any real assets. It would be pretty easy in this state. I don't want to be one of those girls who hangs on until her husband becomes a dentist for security. I've got a good job and excellent career opportunities where I work now. I'd probably have to move; I've had to turn down---at least postpone---one promotion since Ben can't move. Do you find me attractive?" Sharon said, putting her hand on Paul's arm.

"We need to talk, young lady, and it never leaves this car. I genuinely like you and love spending time with you. You and I are not going to have an affair, in spite of the fact that I find you extremely attractive and the temptation is very strong. Let me tell you why." Paul proceeded to give Sharon all of the grizzly details.

"And I thought I had stuff to deal with. I was just about to jump your bones, Paul. I find you very attractive. As we've gotten to know each other over the last six months, as we've become friends, I fantasized about the two of us, well, fucking, and maybe more. But you've convinced me I need to deal with my problems head on before I do something stupid. Is there a chance you might share the name of your marriage counselor? I need to talk to someone."

Pamela was admitted to the hospital two weeks later for treatment. She did in fact have a chemical deficiency which would not have been detected under normal procedures. She came home after two days. Her depression had responded well to the drug treatment initiated at the hospital. The marriage counselor passed her off to a colleague more experienced in dealing with her specific issues.

Unfortunately Pamela's case is like the analogy of the old car with a host of small problems. Fix the fuel injectors which solves the rough running engine and the valves can't handle the new increased compression. Replace the valves and the oil leak resulting from the increased oil pressure becomes chronic or the head gasket blows. The engine is restored to its original torque and the transmission can't handle the strain. Soon, the whole system just doesn't function anymore.

Pamela's personality disorder, her almost total lack of a realistic concept of self, became her most serious issue once her clinical depression was alleviated. Had it been recognized and properly treated when she was fifteen or sixteen, the prognosis for complete recovery would have been excellent. At almost thirty her mechanisms for dealing in an unhealthy manner with her problems were too ingrained in her behavior. Her paranoia increased and her behavior became more erratic. Her medications were increased and combined; it's hard to know in retrospect whether the drugs were helping or hurting. Her borderline schizophrenia evolved into the full blown variety and she had a total psychotic break. She was admitted to the university psychiatric hospital in a near catatonic state.

Pamela never recovered. She never again even recognized her visitors. Over the years, she curled up into a fetal position, her physical state deteriorated and she became almost totally dependent on artificial means to keep her alive. Her feeding was exclusively via tube for over a decade. After fifteen years, most of it in a nursing home, she finally died one night.

While it may sound cruel, Paul was granted a divorce with full custody within a matter of months of her initial admission to the psychiatric facility. The divorce essentially left Pamela destitute but also eligible for government assistance. Paul consulted an attorney with the possible intent of filing suit against the doctors and the hospital. After all, think about how a jury of every day people would view it. Here was a woman who, to her friends, seemed normal. You experts decided to treat her and she essentially turned into a vegetable. Paul knew enough about her condition and the risks involved to feel confident that no malpractice had occurred. Possibly to forestall a lawsuit, the hospital and the doctors offered a settlement before any suit was filed which would ensure that Pamela received excellent care for her remaining years.

Paul supplemented the settlement and the government assistance until the very end to ensure that she received the best possible amenities.

Paul declined promotion for the first couple of years to be close to Pamela. The kids were devastated and had their own adjustment issues. Paul resumed weekly sessions with the same psychologist he and Pamela had once met with. His career was going no where and the full time responsibilities of being a single parent while holding down a demanding job were taking a toll.

Sharon did in fact get a divorce three months after her conversation with Paul. She immediately accepted a promotion and moved. At the time Paul and Pamela were still married and Pamela had not had her breakdown. Keeping up a long distance relationship with a married man with his own problems to deal with made no sense; Sharon severed all relations with her former tennis partner.