This Is Our Life

Married couples find out quickly that life isn't always ideal. Things happen, life happens, and some of those happenings are beyond anyone's control. How the couple deals with adversity will determine the future of their relationship. Some marriages fall apart, and some grow stronger. Let's see how Sara and David do. Thanks as always to Todger65 for editing.

This story is based on true events. I struggled with that somewhat, because David and Sara suffered through so much that it doesn't seem possible. I assure you that they did. To be brutally honest, I left out some events simply because I was concerned the reader wouldn't believe any two people could make it through that much shit. I have used my writer's prerogative to liberally exaggerate the sex. There is group sex, wife sharing, husband sharing, and lesbian sex, along with a dash of this and a dash of that.

This Is Our Life

David and Sara find a way back to happiness

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We met at a New Year's Eve party. I was single, lonely, and very horny. She was a vision of beauty quietly sitting on a couch in the living room. I was almost irresistibly drawn to her and had to fight my instinct to immediately approach her. I needed to watch her for a while and learn about her. It had been my experience that women as gorgeous as her were often vain and bitchy. The honest truth though was that I was shocked at how she had affected me, and I needed a moment to think about that. My recent breakup was a harsh reminder that my feelings often colored my perceptions.

The reason I was single, lonely, and horny was because my girlfriend, the woman that had lived with me for the past year, and the woman I had planned to marry had left me for her lover. She'd been cheating on me for months. Blithely living her double life with absolutely no regrets whatsoever. I think the only reason she bothered to come clean was that our planned wedding day was rapidly approaching.

I'll never forget it. I walked into our apartment after work and she was waiting, "David, we need to talk."

Those dreaded words 'We need to talk' that I knew were the last ones I wanted to hear from the woman I loved. Any guy that has been in love with a woman knows what those words really mean, "Sit down and shut up while I tell you how you fucked up, and how it's going to be from now on."

She was direct and to the point. It was glaringly clear that she had planned this out for some time, "I'm not marrying you. I've been seeing someone else and I'm leaving you to be with him. I'm sorry things didn't work out between us."

I was caught completely unaware. I loved her and I thought we were ecstatically happy together. Her late-night work sessions and frequent weekend travel for her job never raised my suspicions. My career made similar demands of my time. In hindsight, all the signs were there, but my brain refused to see them. My feelings for her blinded me. I sat there paralyzed as my brain tried and failed to make sense of what she had just said, "I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

She blew out a breath in frustration, "Don't be dense David. I'm leaving you."

I couldn't wrap my head around it, "But why? We love each other. Did I do something?"

She shook her head, "OK, first of all, I don't love you. I love Steve. Second, you didn't do anything. I just need to move on."

The situation I was in was a prime example of how clueless men are in relationships, and how pragmatic women can be. She had planned her exit from my life in detail down to every word she would say and had a response for every word I might say. I, on the other hand, was completely unprepared. She'd had weeks to think it through, and I had seconds to form a response while in a state of shock. She was having a battle of wits with an unarmed man. To top it all off, she had left no room for negotiation. There was only one outcome to this conversation that she would accept, "I've packed my stuff and Steve is here to help me move out."

I was stunned, "What?"

The son of a bitch walked into my living room! When I saw the way she looked at him it finally hit me. I knew it was over, "You fucking bitch! Bad enough that you cheat on me. Bad enough that you fall in love with another man. That wasn't enough, was it? You had to humiliate me on your way out the door. What the fuck did I ever do to you except love you?"

She frowned in exasperation, "Look David, I'm not trying to humiliate you, but I need to be clear that we are done."

I was deeply hurt and angry. The combination made it nearly impossible to talk, "What? Did you think that I would force you to stay with me if you weren't cruel enough when you left? Fuck you! If you had talked to me and told me you wanted out I would have let you go. You didn't have to slap my face on the way out the door. Get your shit and get out! Leave your fucking key on the counter when you go.

"Oh, and Steve? Fuck you too. Make a move or say a fucking word and I'll kick your backstabbing ass!"

He didn't move or speak, which I will admit pissed me off even more. It would have felt good at that moment to beat the living shit out of him. Later when I had time to think it through I really couldn't blame him. He wasn't the one that cheated, that hid his affair, that blindsided the one that loved him. That was all her.

I left the apartment and sat at the bar across the street, downing shots, and watching out the window for them to leave. It didn't take them all that long. She'd planned well and the van on the street was soon loaded and gone. I went back to my empty apartment and alternated between bouts of deep depression and raging anger. Over time my feelings mellowed enough to move on with my life, but the scars ran deep.

I orbited around the fascinating woman on the couch like a surveillance satellite, never looking directly at her, and eavesdropping on every word she said. What I heard worried me and enticed me in equal measure. She was nice, funny, and intelligent. She was the whole package and I knew I had to get to know her.

I watched and when the woman sitting next to her got up to refresh her drink I sat down next to the focus of my attention. I soon found out that her name was Sara. I also soon found out that I was totally smitten with her. We talked and laughed and forgot about everyone else. With the exception of bathroom breaks and refreshing drinks, we spent the rest of the evening talking. When the night was over I handed her a note with my phone number. I thought that the best way forward was to put the ball in her court and see if she showed interest.

A few days later she called and we talked. It wasn't long before she tried to call every day, but eventually talking wasn't enough. We needed to see each other. She would pick me up in her car and we would drive around talking. Sometimes we would make out, but that's as far as it went. I wasn't the only one that had been burnt by someone I loved. She was recovering too and wasn't in a hurry to open herself up again.

I was on a roller coaster of emotions. When I was with her I fell deeper each minute. When I was away from her I saw the futility in pursuing her. I knew I was going to end up with another heartbreak. Knowing all of that, I couldn't bring myself to quit. There was something about her beyond how attractive she was. I kept telling myself that I was imagining things the way I wanted them, not the way they are, but that still didn't stop me from answering the phone or dropping everything when she wanted to go for a drive.

Our relationship grew and I fell head over heels for her. She also introduced me to her daughter Lisa and I fell in love with the three-year-old immediately. We'd been seeing each other for a year when I asked Sara to marry me. Her immediate answer was, "No. I love you, but no."

I'm still surprised at my response, "OK then. I won't ask again. The next time, you have to ask me."

A year later we bought a house together. The day we moved in we sat down at our kitchen table, exhausted by the move. Sara reached across the table and took my hand, "When are you going to make an honest woman out of me?"

I smiled, "What are you trying to say Sara?"

She grinned, "OK, fine! Will you marry me?"

I said yes before she had a chance to come to her senses. Lisa walked into the kitchen and saw her mother and me kissing. She hugged our legs trying to join in. She was very happy that her mom and I were getting married. In her mind, I was her dad. I was the only father figure she had ever known.

We settled into married life. Our sex life was wonderful and mildly adventurous. We weren't oversexed swingers or anything like that, but we did enjoy making love and just plain fucking immensely. We had fun. Of course, nothing stays new, and the pressures of life take a toll. We reached that point in our marriage where the burdens of the day made sleeping way more enticing for her than sex and our frequency dropped off. We had a few arguments about it and did the best we could, as all married couples do. Neither of us ever considered an affair. I can't prove that regarding Sara, but knowing her the way I do, I am confident of that assessment.

Shortly after we married I adopted Lisa. I loved her with all my heart and I wanted that little girl to be my daughter. We were happy.

Life happens as it does, and our sex life took a beating. Sara had a tumor that required a full hysterectomy. She got thrown into menopause well before her time and her doctor was an old school asshole that felt women just needed to tough it out. There was no need for medication to offset the deep depressions, the hot flashes, or the mood swings. To add insult to injury, he had used a wire suture during the surgery that didn't degrade over time. The suture moved and the end of the wire poked through her uterus. As a result, sexual intercourse caused her excruciating pain.

It wasn't until he retired a year or so later and she found a woman gynecologist that she discovered the wonders of modern pharmacology. The wire was surgically removed by her new doctor. We had adjusted to the fact we couldn't have sex and getting back in the saddle was a slow and tentative process. One that got interrupted yet again.

I got cancer. The surgeries and drugs made it impossible for me to have sex for a very long time. Ongoing medications after I recovered made it impossible to maintain an erection. Sara and I had a sexless marriage and we both grieved. It was a sad and difficult time, but we never gave up on each other. For better or worse means something to us.

The hits just kept on coming. I had been an avid weightlifter when I was young and had depended on youthful exuberance instead of proper training. Years later I ended up developing severe back problems and was nearly home bound.

Three back surgeries later things changed. I began losing the weight I had gained while practically an invalid. The weight loss made it possible to start reducing medications. I went from roughly twenty meds a day to two. The cock that had given me so much fun over the years decided to stick its head up on occasion and the occasions began to get closer together. I could actually have an orgasm on occasion. I wasn't sure if I could actually make love to my wife, but things were improving.

The emotional dynamic of our situation is hard to understand from the outside looking in. Neither of us had ever wanted our sex life to stop. We had loved our sex life and enjoyed each other. When we couldn't have sex we began to emotionally withdraw from it. For a while, Sara would approach me and want to make out. I knew she was horny and I knew I would fail her. It got to the point that when she tried to kiss me I felt like I wasn't her man anymore. I was a useless drone, only good for home improvement and income. We stopped casually touching and kissing because it only led to disappointment. We learned not to be intimate, not because we didn't want each other, but because we did. I couldn't allow myself to build her desire, only to let her down when she needed me the most.

How do you recover from that? How do you go back to the way things were, or at least create a new reality? Fear of failure, of letting her down yet again, had wrapped chains around me that seemed impossible to break. During the worst of it I sat down with Sara, "Honey, I'm not taking care of your needs and I won't say a word if you decide to have sex with someone. I'm asking you please be discrete. I will need to know who you are with and when you will be with them so I can make sure you're safe. I'm sorry I've let you down. You don't deserve this, and I want you to be happy."

I left her to think while I went to my woodshop to hide my grief. I knew if she went down that path I would eventually lose her to a better man. A man that could give her what I couldn't. I didn't know what else to do. She is my world. How could I hold her to a promise that makes her miserable?

Time passed and Sara made no attempt to find my replacement. I could now get an erection, but maintaining it was problematic. I couldn't take the chance of disappointing her yet again. I needed to be sure I could complete the mission before I started something.

Our world fell apart again. The sudden death of our daughter Lisa devastated us and the loss and grief ruled our lives for a long time. Sara fell into a deep depression and began to drink too much. Something had to change. We were heading toward a tragic end if I didn't get off my ass and do something. Sara mentioned that we hadn't been away on vacation for years and maybe it was time we took one. The wheels began turning.

We could go to a romantic resort in the Caribbean. Some all-inclusive, couples only place where we leave behind all our emotional baggage and just have fun together.

I wasn't expecting some cum drenched orgiastic depravity. My sincere hope was to make love to my wife one time. Just one time to kick start things again. One time to prove to us both that we can still have a happy sex life.

We pulled the trigger and made a reservation in March, six months away. Life continued stuck in the morass of grief and loss as the days marched on. I became concerned that Sara had given up. I wasn't sure that she would be willing to leave the house for the Caribbean when the time came. I needed to change the routine and get her outside of her own head. I pleaded, cajoled, and begged, before finally getting her to join me in exercise. We needed to get in reasonable shape before vacation because I knew she would be miserable if she thought she was fat and ugly.

Getting her out of the house and doing something had a profound effect on her. She smiled again and her general attitude began improving. A month before the trip we started using the local tanning salon to develop our tans. The last thing we wanted was to arrive with our pasty winter skin and get burned the first day.

We were both super excited as the Tuesday we were leaving rapidly approached. Shit came unglued at work on Monday. The details are unimportant. Suffice it to say I was the guy to deal with it. It was my job, and I didn't have someone to dump it on. I had to fly out on Tuesday to Houston while Sara went on to our resort alone. The company was good about it. They covered the costs of re-ticketing my flights. I was going to miss the first few days of our vacation, three at the most. Worst case, that still gave us four days to find our intimacy again.

Sara is one of the strongest people I know. If she cries, there is a damn good reason. The tears fell from her eyes when I told her what I had to do. I'd let her down again. I'd failed her again. I took her hands, "Honey, I know this sucks, but I will be there. Enjoy a few days for yourself. Have some fun, explore, and try to meet some people that you can introduce me to when I arrive. I will be there as soon as I possibly can. At least we're leaving on the same flight and we can have lunch together in Charlotte. I'll knock this thing out and will be sitting next to you on the beach before you know it."

We left in the morning and wrangled our luggage to the check in counter. Our flight to Charlotte took off on time and once we arrived, we had a nice lunch together. I walked her toward her gate afterward and directed her into a side hall. I pulled her behind a business kiosk and kissed her with all the passion I could. She kissed me back hard, then pulled back and looked at me sternly, "You had better show up mister."

I smiled up at her, "I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'll try to call, but I'm going to be up to my neck in it for a while and it might be late at night before I can call. I love you."

"I love you too." And she was gone.

I arrived in Houston and I wasn't up to my neck in deep water. I was ten feet under it and I had to learn how to breathe in it fast. I didn't get the voicemail from Sara telling me that she had arrived until I got to my hotel at one in the morning. I went to bed planning on calling her when I got up. That didn't work out like I planned. I wouldn't get to call her until late the next evening. When I did, her phone went to voice mail. I didn't think much of it. I figured she was sleeping.

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Sara

It seemed like the day took forever. Check in, fly out, have lunch, board another plane, run the airport gauntlet on arrival, then board a bus for nearly two hours before finally reaching our little patch of paradise. I guess I should say my little patch of paradise since David is stuck in Houston. He's been acting different lately and I'm worried. He's lost so much weight and he looks so good. He's been kissing me a lot more lately and that's wonderful. I just can't help but wonder if he's having an affair. Isn't that what's happening when a spouse suddenly changes the way they look and act? Is he doing it for me or someone else?

It's been so long since he's touched me in that special way. I feel like I'm married to my best friend, not my lover, and that scares me too. I had hoped that we could try to have sex on this vacation. I don't care if he stays hard. I want him close to me, holding me, touching me, loving me. I've seen the look on his face when I tried to kiss him. I've never seen a man look so lost and sad. I know it's because of his condition, but I can't help but be hurt. I feel like he doesn't find me attractive anymore.

If he is cheating on me I'll make him sorry and that's for damn sure. I really can't believe he would do that. He's a man of his word and he keeps his promises. If he is having an affair I don't know how I'll cope. I can't imagine life without him and I don't plan on finding out what that would be like anytime soon. I needed to stop thinking about that crap. What I needed was a tropical drink and a towel on the beach. I'll go dip my toes in the ocean, then lay out with my steamy romance, while handsome resort staff ply me with drinks.

Matching actions to thoughts, I pulled my bikini from the suitcase and left the rest of the unpacking for later. Within a few minutes I was on the towel, my toes still wet from the ocean, a book in one hand, and a wonderful drink in the other.

I was a few drinks in when the day's travel caught up to me and I dozed off. Sand hitting my face woke me and I looked up startled. The cutest little blonde haired pixie was looking down at me, "I'M SO SORRY!"

I squinted up at her, "It's OK."

I thought that would end the conversation. I hadn't considered the bundle of energy standing over me. She gave me the cutest smile, "I hope you don't mind if my husband and I lay out our stuff next to you. The beach has gotten kind of full."

I'm not a social person like David. People make me uncomfortable and I prefer to avoid them. Sure, I do all right when I've had a few drinks in me, but for the most part, I'm fine with just David. Still, I'm not an asshole, "Sure, make yourselves comfortable."