My wife Loren and I have been married for a long time, thirty-plus years to be not so exact, and counting, I might add. And for all of that time, she's been a fantastic wife in most regards.
Save one...
Though she's never really left me without the option to lay my horny old dick in her, I have had to endure some forms of sexual deprivation at times during our marriage. There were indeed periods when she and I would go through times of sexual happiness and plenty. But often, I have had my dick in my hand to curb my lust.
I'm a rather horny guy, always have been, and I can spend hours thinking about and craving sexual gratifications of many sorts. But I have a great and powerful love for her, and I go to great lengths to be discrete about my wanton desires. And I don't force anything on my loving wife, ever.
As my wife and I grew older, some things in our lives became more apparent. The cracks in the plaster were becoming much more visible, so to speak. The things that we used to tolerate started to become burdensome and were affecting our relationship in unexpected ways. None of them more so than sex.
I had always been the one who was the more adventurous partner by a long shot. As so I thought... I recently discovered that I wasn't nearly as adventurous as the woman I called my loving wife. Over the years, I thought I had learned how to approach her, I learned what not to expect, and I learned through trial and error what she liked and didn't. I abided by my education, and we had a good time when we could.
As a rule, my wife was there should my need arise, but for the most part, she had an "I'll be here just in case" attitude as if she could take sex or leave it, it was that simple. It went right past me if she had dropped a clue of her true nature during those years.
As I look back now, I admit I didn't understand why she was so resolved to wait for me to use her when I was horny rather than be an equal partner, often, sex was just a one-way street, as if I was treasure hunting on the high seas in a raft.
Loren was always eager to spread he legs for me, so long as I stayed within her comfort zone and abided by her rules of engagement. I was often left alone in my head, wishing I could hear her voice telling me what she wanted of me.
Nonetheless, she and I always enjoyed fucking, It was always very obvious she liked my dick in her, and I loved making her cum. Sex was always great once we got into it.
As I said, we got old, and I started to notice that she was becoming more ambivalent to sex, not quite anti-sexual, but I could feel her getting close. As a result, many things seemed more important than being sexual with me.
Hugs and kisses were always there for the taking; if I wanted more, I almost had to beg for that affection, even though she would tend to give in if I forced the matter, nearly as if she liked to be pushed into it. With that behavior, I would get frustrated at times, sad, and even a little despondent in the in-between times. I truly didn't understand her then.
But all that drama would fade away once I finally got a chance to pump my cum into her after a nice fuck, only to struggle again for weeks or months, not understanding why she seemed to lack any sexual interest in me. I was missing something I never knew was even a thing.
Now, I wonder if she had this proclivity to be shared all along or if this was something that developed over more recent times. She never even subtly hinted at it. If she had, I would be singing a different tune.
Last year, just after her fifty-ninth birthday, Loren and I set out to Las Vegas for an extended weekend. It was a long drive, though we lived in the high desert area of Southern California. It was a trip we had taken many times over the years but hadn't in several. Our trips are usually very fun. She loves the slots, and I love watching her win. We have drinks and get all buzzed up and carefree the whole time, and it's never been a dull trip. Oddly, it's a trip that rarely included sex for some reason, though we always enjoyed going.
On this particular trip, the room we had reserved was not available for some reason. And we ended up with a room that had an adjoining door to the room next to us. The couple we saw later that afternoon entering their room as we were leaving ours was a nice older couple as well. We all said hi to one another, and that was that. We had a great time that first night, visiting some old haunts and drinking a bit, so by the time we got back to our room, it was the wee early hours.
Loren was out like a light as soon as she hit the pillows, I, on the other hand, was feeling a bit buzzed still and more than a bit horny. The whole day we spent holding hands, embracing, touching, and playing. So, as I often would, I played with my dick for a while as I considered waking her. But soon enough, I knocked out naked next to my sleeping wife, as yet unsatisfied.
The next morning, my wife wakes me up, telling me to listen, in a fog, I do as she says, and I listen. Half asleep, I begin to hear murmurs from the next room, then a loud voice and yet more loud voices. It was apparent that the old couple next door were fighting over something. My wife and I got closer to the wall to listen, and it became pretty clear they were fighting about sex. And it was also clear he wasn't going to win that particular battle.
As we giggled at our neighbors for their struggle, I was a bit surprised that my wife sided with the old guy as we talked about it that morning. With our history, I would have guessed she would have taken "her" side. It was kind of strange that we both wanted him to fuck.
We embraced and kissed as we laughed in our agreement that having sex was better than fighting over it. As I thought about that old couple's argument that morning, it started to add to my horniness to think that my wife could possibly be thinking of that old guy fucking his wife, or maybe her.
I spent a long time that morning as I watched her dress after a shower, wondering if my wife might be thinking about that old guy in a sexual way. It seemed unlikely, but I couldn't shake that weird feeling that crept in.
As dumb luck would have it, Loren and I hit the buffet at our hotel and ran into that old couple in line. His wife recognized my wife from the hallway and said hello, we introduced ourselves again properly and chit-chatted while we made our way through the line to get in.
The wife's name was Betty, and her husband, Ron, seemed like a nice guy, though I could tell by the look on his face he was a husband on the edge after their fight earlier that morning. I've been there, and that was all I could think of as we talked.
Ron and I were about the same height and weight, both taller than my wife Loren by a good measure, but he was a couple of years older than I.
Loren is about five foot seven and a nice hundred thirty-five or forty pounds. Betty, Ron's wife, was a bit taller than Loren but was much more on the chubby side. My wife has great, full breasts and some soft, gentle curves, but she carries her sweetly curvy self well. However, she's very modest and demure while being very girly and desirable. Ron couldn't keep from staring at her, I had noticed.
Once we paid for our all-you-can-eat, we went in, and I thought we would be going our separate ways, Loren and Betty decided otherwise, and we all shared a table.
For the most part, Ron and I sat and ate while our wives talked, getting to know each other while comparing husbands. At times, he and I would look at each other and grin uncomfortably as the wives talked about us, comparing us as if we were old horses that should be let out to pasture. But oh, how they still loved us despite our lacking state.
I knew my wife well and understood she was just being social, but I could tell by Ron's demeaned look that his wife was cutting a bit deep with the subtly disparaging things she said about him.
I did my best to distract him with a separate conversation, but I could tell he was a little embarrassed by his wife's casual digs at him.
After lunch, I figured that the wife and I would finally go our separate ways from them, but again, the two gals made different plans. I didn't get why Loren would want to continue hanging out with Betty; they didn't honestly have much in common as I saw it. But later, I would find out what her motivations were.
As Betty walked away, heading to the bathroom, Loren took me by the hand, and we stepped to the side for a private chat. I could hardly believe my ears as my wife chided Betty for her subtle degradation of Ron, she was saddened for him as she spoke I could clearly see that in her eyes.
As I stood there listening, I almost felt a little jealous of him the way she was talking. I soon got the impression that she was on some kind of mercy mission on his behalf.
As we waited for Betty, Loren spoke with Ron casually in a way that I had never seen her do before with another man, let alone a stranger we had just met.
Loren actually caressed his forearm nonchalantly while she invited them to hang out with us. It was a very curious thing to see my wife do, but it only added to that weird feeling tumbling around in my gut.
For the rest of that afternoon, we all bounced from casino to casino, drinking and playing games. While the women fed our hard-earned money into the slots, Ron and I continued with guy talk.
But as we all got pretty tipsy, Loren loosened up a little too much and flirted with Ron subtly behind his wife's back. She didn't seem to mind me noticing, though. I was a little taken aback by this as this was definitely out of character for my wife. That feeling in my gut just grew more and more.
Betty, on the other hand, was quite the aggressive bird, the more she drank, the more she tried to bully Ron for no apparent reason. Loren did her best to buffer him, and for the most part, it was working. We all seemed to be having a good time despite Betty's grumpiness towards her husband.
As he and I watched the gals play various lots, I started asking about their relationship, subtly bringing up the fact that we heard them arguing. He seemed ok with talking about things, but I could tell it was a sore subject. I did my fair share of relating my experiences to his, and he started to open up more the more we drank.
The sun had begun to set as we made our way back to the MGM, where we were staying. Ron and I tailed behind the girls as we walked, and he asked me point-blank if my wife still liked sex. We were both pretty buzzed, and I said what came to mind first.
