Y2 Affair

It was 1999 and we were looking forward to the start of the next millennium, listening to all the panic and speculations about the troubles sure to come after the end of the last century. We argued about whether it began this year or the next, we were told about what might happen when computers shut down, and the international crisis would result. People were worried, buying shelters to save themselves, stocking food to be able to survive the world-wide catastrophe, and even some committing suicide to avoid the chaos.

The end of the century forecast disaster was eminent and we all cowered in its shadow. Even my wife turning the dreaded thirty that year gave shivers to the meek. Would she, like so many before her, evolve into a licentious libertine lady hoping to "find" herself sexually when she hit the big three O? Well, we'd see.

It seem to hit all at once. One day she was a sane person, and the next day she needed to find out who she was. One day she was a happy married lady and the next she was Linda Lovelace needing to discover who she was sexually. Suddenly, she was morose, moody, and depressed, and never quite the same. Almost over the weekend she became the witch of the north. Things were not right, or they were totally wrong. She was either really high or lower than the Death Valley water table.

When she proposed the 'we have to talk' speech, I knew things had reached critical mass. "I just don't know who I am anymore," she said dejectedly. "I need some space," she said, looking positively devastated. I asked what 'space' meant and she said she wasn't sure, but she needed time to find out what she needed in her life, who she was, and what was important.

I let her talk, waiting to hear what she wanted to do, trying to see where she was going with this new plea. "I think we need some time apart," she said. Okay, so it was the old 'time apart' gambit.

"So you think time apart will bring us together, do you?" I said with heavy sarcasm in my voice. "You going to find yourself by being on your own for a bit?" I said caustically. "So where are you going to look?"

"I think we need to see other people," she said. Is seeing other people code for 'we should have sex with others,' I thought.

"See?" I said.

"You know, date," she replied.

"Date?" I said. "You mean fuck, don't you, fornicate with, screw?" I asked. She said not necessarily. "So you think people our age will be satisfied with a handshake, a kiss at the door after a date?" I asked.

"I think we need some time," she said. "To find out who we are."

"I think I know who I am," I said. "I am a man who doesn't want his wife fucking other men on her break from married life. I am a man who wants to stay married and do the old fashion thing, see a marriage counsellor, talk to a priest, discuss it. I don't think fucking someone new will help me see who I am," I said.

"Just for a little while," she said.

"You have a timetable?" I asked. "A month, two months, a year?" I asked. She said as long as it takes. "And you will know, how?" I asked. She thought for a minute, then shrugged. "We live in a small town," I said. "I am a married man. You think people would be fine with me asking a woman in this town for a date as a married man?"

She thought for a minute. "You can ask Claire," she said.

"Claire? A married woman I work with," I said. "You think people would be fine with me taking a married lady dancing in this small town, or to a movie? It is not like all you have to do is let guys know you are available and men line up for the chance to bed you. It is not that easy for a married man to have extramarital sex in a small town," I said.

"Claire's husband is overseas, she lives alone. She would be happy to get out once in a while," she said.

"Get out?" I said. "That's the euphemism for fucking a married man? So, you want to 'see others' for a while? You going to take your birth control pills while you are 'seeing people?'" I asked sarcastically.

"It is nineteen ninety-nine," she said, "not the sixties. We are liberated. Ask Claire to go out for dinner. See what she says."

I did ask my colleague to go to dinner, and she did accept, and we did have a good time, and I did kiss her at the door, or at least in the car in front of her house. And we did go on a second "date" to a meeting of the PTA. And I was enjoying her company, and a kiss did lead to other things, and one of those other things was a night in her bed.

It was awfully good, and I did really, really like doing it. Carol was seeing a few guys she knew would like to have her company, and she did keep taking her birth control pills.

I was living down town in a apartment complex with ten separate rooms, a bed and a bath, and a writing desk against the wall, and a tiny closet. I kept my bike next to the bed and my car in the lot. I spent a good deal of time at Claire's, and we did develop a very active sexual relationship. Sex with her was like it never had been before. I don't know if I had 'found myself,' but I had found sexual satisfaction, although I hadn't been aware of just how unsatisfied I had been. Sex with Claire was an event each time, a monumental experience that most men would do just about anything to get.

It was incredibly ironic that the person to encourage me to begin enjoying sex with another woman was my wife who was in need of finding herself. I don't know whether she ever found herself, but I certainly found sexual happiness for me.

It was three months to the day that I got a phone call from my current legally committed wife who said it was time to end the separation. "What? You have decided the separation is over? I thought this was a decision that involved two people? I am not sure I am ready for it to be over," I said.

There was silence on the phone. "I thought we agreed to go as long as I needed," she said. I said that it involved two people, and one of them was me. "You are not ready?" she asked.

"So you are asking?" I said. "No, I am not ready. I have not found myself," I said more than a little sarcastic. Again, there was a long silence.

"Are you with Claire?" she asked.

"Not at the moment," I quipped. "But it is not time to end the trial separation. I will tell you when I am ready. Then we will talk about it, both of us," I said. "It is not just up to one of us. We will talk later," I said, then I said goodbye and hung up.

Carol and I met while we were each in college, and we each worked in different cities. She had been sexually active for years and I had been married. We dated for a while, then moved in together halfway between her work and mine. When we decided to marry, we applied to teach in Southern California and each got hired a few months apart.

We bought a home in the Valley and drove to work separately, me to the high school and her to the junior high. Things went pretty well for a few years until she approached thirty and began to read a great deal about open marriage and "new attitudes" about monogamy and the structure of marriage.

When she made her "I need to find myself" speech, I knew things were not healthy on the home front. I had not been particularly unhappy, but it was clear things could be healthier. When I began "seeing" Claire, my life got extraordinarily better. The sex was incredible, we were extremely happy, and we got along really well. It was the way a relationship should be. I had Carol to thank for it, since if she hadn't wanted to find herself I never would have made the switch and become involve with Claire.

Claire was willing to try anything and her sexual appetite was remarkable, even insatiable. We would drive home excited, running inside undressing one another as we moved to the bedroom, kissing and hugging as we went. Once in the bed we would ravish one another and begin fucking with an urgency and energy that was infectious. She never refused me anything, and her sexual energy was off the charts. She'd do all the things that Carol refused to do, anything I even hinted that I would like to, she was game for. She eagerly swallowed my semen without any hesitation.

When I introduced Claire to the nude beach she took to it immediately, taking her suit off the first time, slipping out of her top and bottoms without a pause. When we went to the beach one early morning and made love on the sand next to the cliff, it was a marvelous morning of fucking on a towel, making sure to keep sand out of our wet and tender places. She rode me from above, bouncing over me like a cowgirl on a bronc, forcing me repeatedly into her with deep and hurried thrusts.

Claire and her husband got a divorce and shortly after I asked her to marry me. She accepted with enthusiasm as she always did for anything I proposed. We were married after a year, and bought a house together the following summer.

When I talked to her about the possibility of her having an intimate friend she could have sex with she said, "I'll never say never." We had a friend coming over and I asked if she would go without panties when he came. She smiled playfully and said she would. The whole night all I could think about was her being naked under her very short dress. He bare pussy called to me the entire night and we ended it in orgasms that were explosive and lengthy.

When I proposed going to Sandstone, the swingers' resort in LA, she smiled and said it might be fun. That was how she was. It could be fun. Our sex was that way. She was always ready to have a bit of fun with whatever I proposed. When I suggested a way to enjoy the strawberry rhubarb pie she made she laid out with her legs spread so I could apply it, then giggled as I ate it off of her sticky pussy.

We drove to Sandstone and talked the whole way about the possibility of her fucking someone else that weekend. We talked about what it might be like, what may happen, and how 'fun' it may be. When we arrived we met with the director and she told Claire some of the rules: no meant no, no mercy fucks, and no kinky sex like golden showers or anal that someone did't asked for. Mercy fucking was feeling obligated simply because you were approached. "Do not be afraid to say, "No thank you. Be polite, but direct," she told Claire.

We left the office and went to the buffet for dinner. We stood in line with our plates, moving along the table taking food from the bowls laid out. Claire was taking a salad when a man approached and greeted her with a kiss. He said, "My name is Julian. Welcome to Sandstone."

She turned to him, put down her plate, and returned his kiss, putting her hands to his face and her lips to his. I watched for about a minute as this man at the swingers' event greeted my wife with a passionate kiss in the buffet line. As they kissed he pulled her sheer gown up in back and took ahold of the cheeks of her bottom and fondled them as they embraced.

Amazingly, I simply watched as this fellow welcomed her to the event by kissing her intently and brazenly fondling her bottom, letting his fingers wander to the warmth of her anus. When he finished he leaned close to her ear and whispered something to her. She smiled, nodded, and said something back to him. When he had gone, I asked what he had said, and she told me he invited her to the jacuzzi at ten.

I asked if she planned to go and she just nodded. "If it is okay, yes," she said finally. "I would like to. That is why we came, right? I think I'd like to fuck him." I said she should, and it was why we came and asked her to promise me she would tell me all about it, leaving nothing out. When she came back in at eleven thirty she took me to the meeting room and began to tell me all about what she had done with the fellow named Julian in the jacuzzi.

"He made love to me in the water, standing behind me. I opened my legs, bent over, and he took me from behind in front of all those people. It was exciting. He is very big and filled me wonderfully. He fucked me with people watching us," she explained casually. "I came a couple of times as he pushed himself into me," she told me gleefully. "I liked being fucked in front of people," she said breathlessly.

As we drove home, talking how much we both enjoyed the weekend, I thought again about the debt I owed my ex for suggesting I ask Claire to dinner while Carol looked to find herself. Although we have never gone back to Sandstone, it still is one of the best memories we have together. I will never forget the heat of that kiss while we stood in the buffet line.

We are older now and no longer have sex as often as we once did, those remain sweet memories of wonderful times and a grand and successful life together. We have been together for twenty-four years now, and it has been a wonderful life. I love her as much as a man can love a woman, and I still think about our memorable weekend at Sandstone when a stranger welcomed my wife with a heated kiss and a night of sex in the hot tub. They are sweet, sweet memories, and I will never forget them.

The new millennium arrived, the computers didn't shut down, the food supply didn't evaporate, the markets didn't crash, but turning thirty did have some predicted effects on at least one person who needed to look for personal fulfillment. At least two people found happiness that year, and one of them is me. Y2K didn't bring disaster, but turning thirty did bring big change for at least three people. Not the world calamity that was projected, but certainly a big step for some. Who knew.