Down & up the Road

Ted Davis

I recently had the opportunity to read Sandy's account of our life together as well as the brief summary of her and my life following our marriage. I think it's appropriate for me to share a different perspective on those events, and what they really meant to all of us left behind so to speak.

Sandy's recollection of how we met and married was essentially accurate. Her apparent impression on our sexual expectations and interests in life and marriage may have been a little off target. I was like the majority, or typical male youth in interest and sexual imagination although the way I was raised placed incredible pressure and expectation on all young males particularly to live above and in control of natural passion and desire.

Couple this pressure with adolescent shyness and at least a little lack of self confidence and it wouldn't be surprising to learn that I was well beyond high school before I even kissed a girl. I was 22 years old before I met and married my sweetheart Sandy, who was still a teenager. By that time, I had served an enlistment in the Army and enrolled in college where we met.

I had learned a lot about myself by the time I got married, mostly that I could accomplish more than I normally expected to. As I look back now, I would say I was an over achiever; not naturally blessed with a dominating physical appearance and presence, I relied on my wiry tenacity to get the job done.

In the Army I had qualified as an expert with a rifle because I drilled myself in the techniques and mental attitude required to perform on my own time during the weekend before testing. Although that alone may be no real accomplishment, I scored third highest among 203 men in the firing test after posting mediocre and disappointing results in the month of train fire that preceded it, and felt in complete control of myself and everything around me during the test day.

Rank came quickly to me, not because I was a "brown noser" or "apple polisher", but because I had made the simple commitment to get the most out of any experience I could, whether it was pleasant or otherwise. No magic in the world would give me the capability of transporting me to some other dimension at will, so I could either learn something positive where I was, or else I could waste my time. I could never accept the option to waste or even regret any experience.

During the years of High School "shyness", I learned a lot, or at least thought I did about the opposite sex. I had no problem talking to girls, and no shortness of friends who were girls; I just had difficulty handling the emotional consequence of close relationships. If I held hands with a girl, it emotionally affected me for about two weeks. It left me tongue tied and twiterpated. No surprise that I didn't get emotional close enough to kiss. In spite of this, it was easy for people to talk to me, and I was a good listener.

I asked girl after girl, what they really wanted in the ideal man. Over time I felt I had painted a pretty good picture of what women hoped for in a soul mate. They all claimed to want a man who first of all respected them. Then they looked for personality, sense of humor, honesty and sensitivity; not always in the same order. Their ideal man would always be chivalrous and caring and mostly romantic. They all were saying that they really wanted to be worshiped and treated like a fairy princess. No problem, I thought, I can learn to master all of that just like I could learn to excel in discipline, leadership and accuracy on the firing line.

The problem I learned, is that many women, not necessarily all, but many claimed to want a prince charming in their life, but at the same time were drawn like a magnet to selfishness domination and a controlling force; all of the things that seemed to be the natural tools of the typical male chauvinist.

I had occasion to visit with a workmate one day while I lived in a moderate sized city in the western United States. A central feature of this city was a church owned college that attracted high principled young adults from a wide area. This was a natural setting for people to meet court and marry the person of their dreams.

The young man from the east roomed with three other easterners; none of them were members of the church that supported and founded the college. I asked him why on earth he came all the way out west and was simply working in a menial job and not going to college himself. "Every body in the East where I'm from knows that the best looking girls in the country come here for school." He said. "You may be right." I conceded. "But they're all looking for nice eligible young men who are members of their church to marry."

"Oh, I know they want to marry "Good church going guys." He said quickly, "but they want to play around with guys like me until they do." Blood chilled in my veins as he spoke those words, and I challenged whether this scroungy looking "bad boy" could get to first base with any of the "prime catches" of the area. "You would be amazed at the great fucks I get on a regular basis, my three roommates will agree, we get all we can handle."

All the way through High School, I was confident that virtuous living in my youth would earn me the companionship of a beautiful virtuous wife, but class mates constantly had teased me, saying that "by the time you get ready to get married Ted, there won't be any virgins left." The thought they might be right used to bother me, but after military service and meeting a lot of people who had been wild at times in their life and then later turned out to be exceptional people, it had ceased to bother me what girls may have done before I met them.

The conversation with my workmate brought everything back for a moment, made me think again at how I would handle shocking revelations or even bad behavior before or even in a relationship. I'm proud of the fact that I've made a commitment to be non-judgmental and realized that I would never be anxious to impulsively react to any situation without knowing all the details at the real heart of the matter, no matter what.

When I met Sandy, I had not expected or demanded that she be a virgin, it just seemed to be nice bonus. I tried to be devoted sensitive and loving in our courtship and marriage, and even though I had a typical male desire to be sexually adventurous, daring, bold, or whatever, I felt it was my moral and leadership responsibility to set a high standard for the way I treated her. I would never have been comfortable being domineering or treating her like a possession. The one thing, more than any other in our society that tries my patience is when any man physically, mentally or sexually abuses his wife, or any woman for that matter. Domination, control revenge and even expression of anger would take me closer to unacceptable and abusive violation than I would ever want to be.

In the course of reading Sandy's story, or one of the other stories she has pointed out to me recently, I have noticed numerous comments by "hostile" readers that condemn women for sexual weakness and maintain that the injured party must even-up the score. It amuses me that many harsh comments are submitted by "anonymous" readers. How can anyone carrying such intense opinion and emotion lack the courage to be addressable to anyone who wants or needs to respond? Oh well, this has little to with what I'm trying to say other than to maintain my strong commitment to view everything I can from a positive and constructive perspective.

As time passed in our marriage, I sensed at least a subtle undercurrent in our intimate relationship that convinced me that sex wasn't perfect between us, or even as good and enjoyable as it should be. It would have been a good idea to get some professional neutral counseling then, to help us discover appropriate expansion of our love making capacities. Sometimes people are reluctant to admit to themselves that they need help in learning how to improve something we think should be natural or instinctive. We think we either have it or we don't, and that if we don't we can't learn or acquire it.

I can understand how Sandy may have felt caught in a downward spiral of unsatisfying sex in our bedroom, I felt some of it as well, and chastised myself for feeling that way. It should have occurred to me that she might have felt unsatisfied, but I was always determined to make sure her needs were met and worked to provide the romance I thought she needed as well as the sexual stimulation to make sure she experienced orgasm every single time we had sex; most of the time she came because I literally masturbated her to climax because the limited passion in our union didn't often do it. As the strain of intimacy increased between us, it became more and more difficult to drive her over the top while I had my cock buried in her tight pussy.

I suspect I'm rather average with a six and half inch penis that's fairly thick. In situations of exceptional arousal, I was over seven inches long, but those times were rare, and usually when some element or danger of exposure was included.

The mind plays such an integral role in making love or having sex that specific attention needs to be addressed to what and how we think about before and during the moments of intimacy. Maybe a little fantasy or role playing helps, but I always felt somehow disloyal if I let fantasy or imagination intrude.

As our family started to grow with the birth of Tyler and Jessica, the feelings of family that we had looked forward to seemed a little overshadowed by the responsibilities associated with having children. I had to take a second job and still we were behind. When Sandy said she wanted to get a job, I felt devastated. I had always accepted the responsibility to be the family "bread winner" and I felt like a failure when I realized how much we needed her earnings as well. I thought at first that we had just allowed ourselves to expect too much and were living with too many "wants" rather than just the manageable necessities; I realized with time that we were really conservative responsible people caught in the start-up expenses of life and just anxious to have a family before securing financial success.

I reluctantly agreed and nursed my bruised ego while I watched Sandy grow quickly in self confidence and earning potential. This probably added to the pressure I felt in the bedroom about my performance and I simply masked my concerns there with another dose of high principal and self discipline.

Even though I didn't see anything specific to indicate that Sandy was interested in someone else until after the construction work had started on the new store space her company was moving into, I sensed the vulnerability of the situation as I watched her become more and more independent and successful. Her work was becoming more important and her patience with the kids a little thinner with each passing day.

She also seemed to look better physically each time I saw her, with more makeup, better clothes, etc. I guess being with and serving young fashionable girls and women every day showed. Not long after construction started, things really started to change; in a word she looked hotter. I guess some of the readers would say she was starting to look like a bitch in heat. In essence, that's what she was, and although neither one of us really knew it, I'm sure the contractor did. I should have been able to tell by the way she looked and acted that that she was being seduced and was actually in the process of mating with someone else.

One night she came home, a little later than normal, and when things became quiet without her coming in to bed, I got up to see if she was alright. Somehow the doubt must have already established itself in the back of my mind, because I was quiet and secretive as I crept down the hallway toward the low illumination in the front room. I stayed in shadow as I peered around the corner and was stunned to see her on the couch with her dress pulled to her waist and her panties dangling around one foot; I couldn't see the panty hose she normally wore. The top of her dress was pulled down so both her tits were exposed and obviously aroused. Her bra was off and she was pinching her hard nipple with one hand while the other was busy between her legs. I watched while she bucked and writhed through an intense orgasm and knew without question it wasn't me she was thinking about at the time.

I slipped quietly back down the hall and into bed, but the intense image of her remarkable climax had left a lasting impression. I had never seen the level of arousal and raw passion that had enveloped her in her features before that night, and although I was extremely concerned about what could be the cause of this excitement, I was also incredibly turned on at having witnessed her raw sexuality. When she climbed into bed, she sensed I was not asleep and I asked her where she had been. "Unwinding", was all she said and I thought at the moment it was much more than that.

Over the next several days she seemed anxious and intense; I'm sure now it was more from a guilty conscience than anything else. She started to dress like she was going out to impress someone, more like in a seductive context than for an important job interview. When I questioned her about it she was a little abrupt and maintained that it was important to be chick and stylish in the store, that it improved sales and was expected.

She seemed to be more ready and anxious for sex and took the initiative twice during the next few days. There was a strong suggestion she was holding a boiling passion in check just below the surface throughout sex, and she seemed frustrated when she couldn't let it out. I was worried that this was an indication that she was already deeply involved with another man and remembered the evidence of passion that I had witnessed in her when I watched her masturbate in the front room. I was awash with multiple emotions as I wrestled with anger at her probable betrayal, concern and jealousy at not being able to release that passion myself and the sick guilty feeling for wanting to witness it again even if I wasn't the source of her arousal.

I became much more observant, searching for clues that would confirm my suspicions or fears. I think she was masturbating often; I heard her more than once the unmistakable sounds of sexual release through the locked bathroom door and when I finally called out to her on one occasion, she said she had a cough and didn't feel well. I know her clothing was much more risqué and the times she returned home got later and later.

One evening in particular, she had seemed almost distraught, It was on a night where I had taken the initiative and planned a special and romantic evening at home together. I rented a special video, a chick flick she had wanted to see that we had missed during its theatrical run. I also assembled some of her favorite snacks and indulgences to express how I loved and cherished her.

She was more emotional during the movie than I would have expected and seemed very much on edge. Once again, the sensitive and tender moments in intimacy fell short of their desired effect and the sense of frustration in her seemed even more apparent. I was worried and couldn't begin to guess what I needed to do to win back her love. I had always thought that the answer to any difficult question lay in the effort required to resolve it. Work harder, try harder, feel harder, whatever it took, but strangely I lacked confidence in my ability to solve our problems in the bedroom.

The previous night I thought I had found strong evidence of her betrayal when she came home late and slipped into the shower of the main guest bathroom before coming to bed. She rarely used that bath except to shave her legs on a weekend, after she cleaned house in the morning. She had in fact taken care of those things in her regular schedule, so I was puzzled at why she would be back in there Monday night. The guest bath had two areas, the outer with a cabinet and wash basin, and the inner with a toilet and shower/tub. When I could hear her in the shower, I quietly entered the outer area and saw the clothing she had worn that day lying on the carpeted floor. My heart beat with anxiety as I reached down and picked up the sheer bikini panties she had worn. I had never seen them before, and didn't realize she even owned a pair that sexy and brief. As I stroked the wet absorbent crotch area I felt sure, but not positive, that the wetness was that of a man's sperm. If indeed it was, it had been deposited there long enough before that the slippery cum had broken down to near water, the odor seemed unique although I didn't have a habit of smelling sperm so I couldn't be sure.

I was hurt and afraid she might have already gone all the way in adultery. The effort I had made the next night to try to reclaim her as my own once more was probably more my effort to assume her innocence until proven guilty and to tell her that for my part I still loved her in loyalty.

After the attempted night of romance and making love, I could tell that she was probably already gone but as I listened, long after the lights went out, to her soft crying, I knew there was a particle of loving emotion that was causing guilt and a bitter struggle within her; maybe there was still enough love toward me and the kids in her heart that our marriage was salvageable.

I'm sure there are many readers out there who are already condemning me for not loosing it completely when I found her panties filled with the evidence of sexual surrender, and beating the shit out of her right then before throwing her out. All I can say is that the one thing I held onto tenaciously, and do so even to this day was my commitment to effort, and also my resolve to withhold judgment until after the person in question had been squarely confronted with the evidence, and was given the opportunity to fish or cut bait. That confrontation was coming quickly, but until then, the effort to do whatever I could still held the upper hand.

In even the most extreme circumstance, my abhorrence against abuse and brutality would compel me to keep whatever I did on a civil plain.

The next morning I woke up early, ate a light breakfast and went in to work. Even then I think I sensed things coming quickly to a head, and I didn't want a desk full of work that needed to be done quickly placed on hold if my schedule got interrupted. In the late morning there was something I wanted to ask Sandy about and I called home hoping to catch her. When she didn't answer I called our neighbor who was watching the kids for us. Sarah was upset at something and trying hard to avoid saying more to me about it. For some reason I felt there was something there I needed to explore right then. Since I had been productive all morning, I told the receptionist that I had a personal matter that I needed to attend to, and left.

When I got to Sarah's house, I found her on the phone. She had really been involved talking animatedly to someone and when she answered the door was surprised to see me and anxious to cut her call short. She looked nervous and a little flustered as she responded to my probing questions. I wanted to know if she knew anything about what might be going on with Sandy, and I guess she thought I knew even more than I did.

"I'm sorry Ted." She said. "I just didn't know what to think when I saw Sandy get in the truck with her, ah "friend".

"What makes you emphasize "friend" Sarah?" I asked. "What did you actually see?"

Sarah was uncertain about what to say again but finally told me how Sandy had snuggled up close to the guy and then with her knees clearly visible to Sarah so she could plainly see, Sandy had taken off her panties and given them to the guy and then with Sarah standing there, obviously watching, Sandy had spread her legs wide while her boy friend obviously finger fucked her to a wild orgasm. In spite of all I already knew, it still shocked me that my own sweet, normally reserved wife could be that brazen and outrageous with another man in front of a neighbor and friend.