This is a somewhat back-handed Romance that explores the complacency in the over-worked clichΓ© "happily married". It starts from an unromantic, jaded perspective and takes a while to build any sense of romance. Sex is interspersed throughout and includes all openings so if anal ain't your thing, be forewarned. As always, this is a work of fiction and any coincidental similarity between the characters or circumstances in this story and some bit of someone's reality somewhere is unintentional and a purely random event in the cosmos. The characters in this story are over 18 and any sex is consensual between adults. As always, feedback is appreciated and voting lets me know where my work stands with you the reader. HP
Chapter 1 -- "Happily Married"
George Raithenby lay on his back staring at the silver ripples of reflected moonlight dancing on the ceiling. When the night was clear and the moon was full but not too high in the sky, the pale silver light reflected off the swimming pool, through the open window onto the bedroom ceiling. The dancing silver light usually had an eerie, yet somehow soothing quality but George was beyond the reach of the soothing bit of the shimmer at that moment.
It was a warm, sticky summer night. The clearing skies were taking their time lowering the humidity to less than tropical rain forest levels. The air conditioner was struggling to keep up and George was having trouble sleeping, again.
It wasn't just the muggy funk of the weather. He had been having real trouble sleeping on and off for a while now. His wife, Val, on the other hand was obliviously in dreamland on her side of the bed. She was making those little muttering, burbling, snoring noises that George found extremely annoying. Some nights, like tonight, when insomnia left him with nothing to do but listen to her for hours, it bordered on fingernails on a chalkboard. Val, however, was blissfully oblivious to the tempest raging in her partner's mind.
George was not a happy man. Val's sister was known to joke "we were happily married for a couple of years and now I'm just hanging around to piss him off". George often wondered if Val was also thinking the same thing.
"Happily married is such a clichΓ©," he thought. "You start off happily married, then get comfortable and then some degree of discomfort sets in," was more accurate in his opinion.
George and Val were seen as a happy couple in public, they seemed to find their game faces for other people and put on a good show. In the privacy of their home, they each went separate ways; Val to the TV in the living room and George to his home office and the Internet. With their respective jobs, they ate supper together about half the time and basically coexisted in the same house. They went to bed at different times and rarely saw each other in any state of undress. Since they were hardly ever in the same mode at the same time, their sex life was essentially non-existent.
Not for a lack on interest on George's part, that was for sure. From George's research online he knew he was not alone in his opinion. They were like most "happily married" couples -- they had that age-old gender difference in sex drive.
Val found fulfillment and purpose in shopping with her friends, in those regular TV shows that just couldn't be missed, in regular and expensive redecorating of the house, in countless visits to the hair salon and all the other things that George's successful career had provided for her. But in his mind, she was focused on meaningless, frivolous and usually expensive and wasteful pursuits while forgetting the single most important thing; were it not for him, she wouldn't have the time or money for any of these "fulfillments".
Val seemed happy with sex every couple of months or less and was never the instigator. She had perfected the controlled give-in. In spite of never starting things, she controlled all of these rare encounters by her lack of interest in novelty. She was content with a passive round of legs spread, zero participation missionary-style most of the time. Once in a long while if she had been drinking a bit, she would sometimes take the top and dangle her plump nipples in his face.
George had eventually learned how to get her to cum by varying his pace and the angle of his strokes, something he had to figure out on his own because she wouldn't dare communicate her intimate secrets and feelings. He only realized she came the first time because she held her breath for long enough that he noticed and then involuntarily shuddered a bit, clenching her pussy muscles nicely around his cock. Val almost always went to sleep satisfied but never said anything about their sessions afterwards.
As far as George was concerned, the only real variety in his sex life came from switching hands once in a while. Surely at 49 he was too young to be celibate? This was the discomfort setting in part; it hadn't always been like that.
Chapter 2 -- Early Days
George couldn't help but almost smile as he recalled fondly when they first met. What pleasant memories they were, filled with the wonder of the joint discovery of pleasure.
He and Val had met in college. They had lived in the same dormitory. In those heady days in the '70's, the co-ed dorms were still separated into boys' and girls' sections. There were dividing doors between the sections because the parent generation just didn't get it and still required such moral standards but more often than not, they were propped open. The outside doors of the dorm were locked but the interior doors did nothing to prevent late night adventures in forbidden pleasure.
After a couple of dates to campus events, Val followed George back to his single room one night after the bars closed preferring his lack of a roommate to her ever-present roommate. The two found their inhibition shields were down just enough to take their relationship to the next level. They very quickly progressed to necking on George's bed. Both of them knew the principles of French kissing and quickly advanced to passionate tasting and teasing each other with their tongues. As the temperature of their ardor sky-rocketed, George made some tentative explorations of Val's curves. While their tongues danced, his fingers traced lightly up and down her side, caressing the side of her breast and the swell of her hip. Val's hunger grew and she sighed lightly into their kiss each time George slid his hand over the side of her bra cup.
At this point, Val was still a virgin. Not through any grand plan mind you, but just because that is what good girls did and she hadn't bothered to consider giving it up before this.
Man-about-campus George was the experienced one by comparison. He had lost his virginity the previous year to the dorm slut; an event he mostly preferred to forget. His experience with her was neither memorable nor really very enlightening. Both of them had been drinking and when she followed him back to his room, they had unceremoniously stripped, jumped into his bed and fucked. He had been so wound up, he had come after three strokes in her sloppy pussy. She had stroked him back to life and rolled on top of him to ride herself to an orgasm. Her large tits had been soft and pillowy, swaying in front of his face and he had eagerly slurped on her tiny nipples as she rode him. As she came, the clasping of her pussy muscles had barely given him enough sensation to finish off again. She had rolled off and left him snoring gently in his bed, the combined effects of the beer and post-coital bliss rendering him comatose for the night. In those pre-internet days, he had limited knowledge of the female anatomy and no clue how to please his partner. Finding the whole event mediocre, the dorm slut had declined a second tryst with a pleading and rather tipsy George a week later. He once again donned his shy and introverted personality around women and with it, a corresponding lack of "action" in the mattress department.
With all that experience backing him up, George tentatively and gradually moved his caresses further over Val's breast. She started to hold her breath to increase the pressure of George's hand to her still well covered nipple. George gradually got her hints and gave up the pretext of stroking her side and focused on caressing the fully clothed mammary gland. He was enjoying his apparent freedom, cupping her plump tit in his hand, gently hefting the soft flesh and experiencing the sensations as much as he could with her rather utilitarian undergarment in the way. As he ran his thumb over her nipple, in spite of the armor-plated support cup it hardened noticeably and he began to appreciate what would become one of his favorite features of her anatomy; her plump, prominent nipples.
George slipped his hand bravely under Val's sweater and ran the pad of his thumb over her bra-clad nipple. Val's breath caught in her throat each time his thumb rubbed over her nipple but otherwise she seemed content to passively absorb what he was doing while they continued to kiss. Emboldened by his good fortune, George slid his other hand down Val's smooth tummy and into the waistband of her jeans. She didn't react much but she didn't stop him either. After hesitating long enough to give her the chance to object, he fumbled for a while on his own and managed to pop the button and slide the zipper down. Sliding his hand over the utilitarian white underpants he felt her dense, untrimmed bush. The further south he went, the more moisture he encountered and he realized that Val's sex was really reacting a lot more actively than the rest of her let on.
The dorms were typically austere so the pair had been sitting on the only piece of furniture big enough for two -- his bed. As their passion flared, they gradually slid into a reclining position with Val on her back and George propped up on one elbow. He pushed his hand further into her jeans and crooked his finger into the damp valley in her panties. Val laid her head back and closed her eyes as he explored her sex with his untrained finger. With a sense of the basics, George rubbed his index finger back and forth over her now very wet panties, rubbing her inner lips and occasionally bumping her clit more by good luck than any semblance of skill.