This is a unique story about a husband and wife, written from two perspectives under two different titles. This one is about the woman who thought her sex life became ordinary and scripted to the point of boredom. Its companion story is titled "I Just Wanted to Fuck". I suggest you read them both chapter for chapter and gain some insight into why people who love each other end up cheating. Like I said it is Unique, and I hope you enjoy hearing both sides.
I Just Wanted to be Fucked
Chapter One
Her perspective: The beginning of their troubles
My name is Jennifer, but everyone calls me Jen. I am married to Brian who was my crush and mt steady boyfriend ever since the beginning of senior high school. He's a good-looking man at 5'11" tall, 175 pounds, muscular with light brown hair, blue eyes, and a calm disposition. I can't say he was bad to me, he never hit me or anything, he rarely ever raises his voice, and our marriage has been good, although our sex life has dwindled from what it once was.
I am 5'4" tall at 117 pounds (Brian thinks I'm still 110), and those extra 7 pounds really helped my already ample C-Cup breasts. I have long blonde hair that falls down my back, blue eyes, and what I consider my best features, a shapely butt, and long toned legs that I'm proud of keeping in shape. I like to show off my legs, so I often wear skirts and flirty dresses that accent my body perfectly, or at least I did. Let me explain why things started changing.
We would spend Friday nights with high school friends, three guys we both new. They would come over, play cards, computer games, watch football on TV on Sunday's, and drink. We always had a good time, and of course the boys would complement Brian on how good I looked and do some minor flirting with me. So, I mean it was just boys being boys and it made me feel pretty to tell the truth, but it started to make Brian uneasy. We would play cards and drink in the living room where we had a sofa, a love seat, a chair, and a coffee table between. Brian would sit across from where I sat, and I would give him secret panty flashes while the guys were there, just being a bit naughty with my husband. Well, occasionally, one of the guys would catch me and they would say something just being funny and clank their beer bottles together like they scored in a game. They would say things like "Jen's flashing Brian again", or "Jen, I like those pink panties more than the black". When I would go get more beers one of the guys would get up to help me carry the empties out and the full ones in and put a hand on my back in the kitchen, And yes, sometimes they would let that hand brush against my butt when removing it but they didn't go any further than that.
Then Brian started to change the way he acted when they were around, he would sit me next to him on the love seat so no one else sat next to me, he would constantly be pulling my hem down on my legs if I let any mid-thigh show, even cautioning me about bending forward like I was showing my entire breast. I mean come on, I would show a little cleavage in my sexier dresses, but that's why they're cut that way, and no one saw anything they didn't see when we were all out at the pool. In a bikini my breasts were perfectly placed showing off all the cleavage anyone could want to see, so what was the problem?
Then when I went to work, my supervisor informed me that my mid-thigh dresses were too short for the office so I had to go and buy more conservative clothes for work. It hadn't been a problem in the past, but now it was. So, I started wearing jeans to our Friday night get togethers and longer skirts at work. Our Saturday night date night became infrequent, and we didn't attend church on Sundays, so, I ended up dressing down all week long. It wasn't until one warm Friday night when the guys were coming over that I dressed like my old self, a pair of nylon loose fitting shorts, the kind the lifeguards wear over their bathing suits, and a tube top that barely covered my chest. I mean like what the hell, it was hot, I was going to be cooking on the grill, and I was on my own back patio, who other than Brian and the guys would see me, and what if someone else did?
One of our friends from school was Robert (Bobby), and we both new him for a long time even before becoming friends. He would help me do the beer serving each week, and he wouldn't let me get on my knees to get the bottles from the fridge bottom. So, I would be standing there in my short dresses as he kneeled in front of me handing me the bottles. I knew he a partial view up my dress, but I didn't care, he was a friend of ours, and I liked him since 7
th
grade. Occasionally he would hand a cold bottle up to me and purposely have it rub up under my skirt, or he would be loading up my arms and lay a cold one right against my nipple. Hell, I enjoyed the attention and the playing, and he enjoyed sneaking a peak, I even let him pat and squeeze me on the butt a couple times, no harm done. That was until Brain started his conservative master attitude, and our date nights went away, and work scolded me for the way I dressed. Hell, I enjoy having men look at me, I have a nice body and I'm not out running around naked in front of people.
I confided in Boddy one day and we decided to meet and talk one afternoon over lunch. He told me that he not only noticed the change in my wardrobe, and that he missed the way I used to dress, but that he had said something to Brian about the way he would keep pulling my skirt down even though it had not ridden up but an inch. Brian gave him some shit about a husband having to watch out for his wife or rumors would get started about her being a slut. I dressed like this all the way through school and Brian knows it, and no one branded me a slut, all the boys thought I was hot. And now everyone is telling me I must cover up and I don't like it.
One thing led to another and now Bobby is giving me hugs in the kitchen when we go to get more drinks, and purposely rubbing his hand on my back to check if I'm wearing a bra. Then his hand would slide down to my waist and he'd grab my belt loop on my jeans pulling me closer to him. One night after too many drinks for all of us he did that and pulled me into a tight embrace and whispered in my ear.
"Don't say a word, but I want you to know that I am going to fuck you, Jen."
Then he raised his hand from my waist and cupped my left breast while his right arm pulled me in, and he gave me a subtle but erotic kiss. We broke the embrace, neither of us saying a word, and went back to the living room with the next round. I excused myself to the bathroom and found I was wet as hell, and just masturbated right there and then. If Bobby were near the bathroom, I would have pulled him in with me and would have given him the blow job of his life. As the night broke up, each of the guys gave me a hug at the door as the walked out, except for Bobby. He looked to make sure Brian wasn't watching and he gave me another kiss, this one bold and forceful as he mauled my breast, then whispered in my ear again as he hugged me.
"This isn't going to work for me, I'm going to have to fuck you, so you might as well get used to that idea. Call me next week and we can arrange a time for me to give you what we both need."
I was so hot and flustered I almost came in my jeans at that very moment. He wasn't asking me, he told me he was going to fuck me and that I'd better get used to that. He was taking charge, he didn't lean in for a kiss, he just pulled my body to him and kissed me however he wanted to. In that moment Bobby took complete control over what was going to happen next, and I was overjoyed to let him do it. He was being a man and taking charge, and making me so damn wet during the process, why would I try to stop him. I was wanting to just get fucked, have some man grab me pull up my dress and drill me from behind. Now this man was telling me was going to do just that, and I was in heaven.
Saturday came and went without notice, not even an invite to go out on our date night, and each week this went on, the less I cared. I still love Brian, but this demanding person he had become was smothering me, and everything good that we enjoyed together was falling away, even our passionate sex. We were living together/separately, and not doing a good job doing either. Sunday was no different, we went through our boring routine, yes talking but not really interacting with each other. I ended up going online to check for work updates, as it was not uncommon for me to get texts and emails about what had to be done first thing Monday morning.
I looked at my phone and saw a number I did not recognize that left me a text message, and I was shocked. It was a simple message, demanding and concise, and it didn't leave any room for misunderstanding or a change of what it promised.
"Your battery is going to be dead Monday morning, and it will take a few hours for you to get a tow truck and get it fixed, so at the time you normally leave, you are going to call work and tell them just that. You will wait in your apartment with the front door unlocked, and if you're wearing anything more than an old T-Shirt, you will regret it."
