My Wife Is No Longer My Lover

As if your vote is my applause, please vote for my story.

There are no characters under the age of 18-years-old in this story.

My Wife Is No Longer My Lover, Ch. 01

At opposite ends of the spectrum, with neither compatible with the other, the perverted, voyeur accountant marries the whore, exhibitionist librarian.

"He created them from the beginning and made them male and female. For this reason, a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. No longer two separate people but one, what God has joined together let no man put asunder...Until death do they part. Amen."

* * * * *

Happily married, marriage is forever. Until death do they part, the promise of the bliss of eternal happiness, that is if married couples remained married, is more of a reason for them to stay married. Yet, when nearly fifty-percent of married couples divorce, how many of those other couples who remain married are happily married? Do they remain married because their parents remained married? Do they remain married because, a sin against the church, they don't believe in divorce? Are humans meant to be monogamous?

Beating the odds, John and Kathy have been married 45-years. Happy in the beginning that John was getting sex, Kathy was happy that she was having babies. Then, once they had three children and had lots to do and Kathy had little time for sex, things changed. Nonetheless, because of Kathy's commitment to God and to her religion, instead of filing for divorce for irreconcilable differences, they remained married. Instead of John filing for divorce because of lack of intimacy, he still loved his wife. The love of his life, he'd never divorce his wife.

### Susan Jill Parker -- Dirty Little Secrets and Dirty Little Lies ###

Just as John had dirty, little secrets and told dirty, little lies, Kathy had dirty, big secrets and told dirty, big lies. Just as John was a voyeur, he was a pervert. Unbeknownst to him, he didn't know nor even suspected that Kathy was as much of an exhibitionist as she was a whore. Not only did she loved showing her ass, her tits, and her pussy to any man, but also she loved men that she didn't even know and had never met forcing her to have sex. Just as Kathy's husband was a pervert, John's beloved wife was a whore. A match seemingly made in Heaven, their marriage was nothing but a nightmare.

'Whore,' her family and friends would think if only they knew how many men she masturbated. 'Whore,' her employer would think while firing her if only he knew how many men she had sucked. 'Whore,' her fiancée would think if only he knew how many men had seen and felt her naked body. 'The wedding is off,' her fiancée would say if only he knew that he was marrying a whore.

* * * * *

Guilty about and embarrassed by everything before they were married, John and Kathy kept secrets of all that they sexually experienced. As are most men, John was horny and filled with testosterone. As are most men, John was a voyeur at a time when the mini-skirt was the fashion.

His dirty, little secret, he enjoyed roaming his college campus during the late 60's to ogle the up-skirt, panty peeks and down-blouse cleavage and bra views of woman sitting on the grass or on the steps at lunch. He couldn't get enough of seeing bra clad breasts and panty clad asses and pussies. In his years of ogling women, before he was married, he couldn't even guesstimate how many panties and bras he had seen, hundreds maybe even thousands. Whatever he saw that day, he masturbated over that night and again the next morning. Just as Kathy was continually sucking cock, John was always masturbating.

While just looking but never touching, frequenting his favorite places to see what he needed to see of women, he'd walked for miles and go to great lengths in the hopes of seeing what he shouldn't see, women's underwear. His favorite days were windy days that blew up the short, flared skirts of women walking in front of him to expose their panties to his horny eyes. When not roaming his college campus his favorite place to walk was between the tall buildings downtown that created wind tunnels. When not roaming his college campus, his favorite spot to go was to stand by the sidewalk grate as the underground subway breezed by while blowing up enough air beneath unsuspecting women's skirts to expose their panties.

Then, there were those women's clothing stores he frequented at the mall that had curtains instead of doors on their dressing rooms. On the pretense that he was shopping, he hovered close to the dressing rooms while watching those women who inadvertently or deliberately failed to pull the curtains all the way closed while undressing. Not wanting to be caught peeping and deemed a pervert, he varied his stores and the times that he pretended to shop there while peeping.

Whether he was on a bus or riding the subway, always watching, he looked where to sit to see up-skirt views or where to stand to see down-blouse peeks. Something he was ashamed of and embarrassed of doing, the last thing that John wanted his girlfriend, Kathy, to know was that he was a peeper, a voyeur, and/or a pervert. With her so morally modest and so deeply religious, a woman who hoped to have a career as a librarian, she'd never understand his need to see up-skirts peeks and down-blouse views of women. She'd never understand nor would ever forgive him if she knew he was not just a voyeur but also a sexual deviant.

* * * * *

Much different in her sexual needs than John was in his relatively innocent voyeurism of women, unbeknownst to her boyfriend, Kathy was an exhibitionistic whore before marrying her husband. Instead of just looking, she wanted to touch, feel, and experience as many men as she could before she said her marriage vows. Only, being that she was a virgin and wanted to stay a virgin, her way of keeping her virginity was to give men that she didn't even know and had just met, hand jobs and blowjobs. As much as she loved stroking cock, she loved sucking cock. Sucking them and/or stroking them while staring up at them, she loved controlling men with her hand and/or with her mouth.

Alas, her wrinkle in the sexual ointment, she couldn't have sex with just anyone. Not part of her sexual makeup, she was unable to solicit someone for sex. Not only did she want to have sex with as many men as she humanly could but also she wanted to be forced to have sex with men. She wanted men to take her, strip her naked, and force her to do bad and dirty, sexual things. She wanted men to inappropriately touch her, feel her, undress her, and force her to stroke them and suck them.

Compared to John hoping to see panties and bras to masturbate over later, with her wanting to experience a multitude of hard, hairy pricks, Kathy's secret of giving hand jobs and blowjobs was much more shockingly forbidden. Kathy's dirty, little secret and dirty, little lies were bigger than John could have ever imagined. Something she was ashamed of and embarrassed of doing, the last thing that Kathy wanted John to know was that she was a cock sucking whore. She was a whore. Before John married her, his beloved wife was a whore. He'd never understand nor would he ever forgive her if he knew that she was a whore.

### Susan Jill Parker - XXX-Rated Movie Theatre ###

Disguising her look by dressing like a whore instead of a librarian, she wore a wig and went heavy on the makeup to make her look older. Her favorite place to experience her sexual fantasies of being forced to have sex with strange men was to go to the other side of town, the seedy side, where there were three, XXX-rated, adult theatres. Coinciding with her day off from working at the library, the first matinee showing was just after noon. For three years, from the time she had just turned 20-years-old and until she was married to John just before turning 23-years-old, she used these sordid movie theatres to sexually satisfy her need to be taken.

Once a week, on a different day each week, she'd frequent the theatre. As soon as the lights dimmed and the movie started, she'd take the same seat, the seat by the exit door, just in case she was recognized and needed to flee the theatre in a hurry. Just as she didn't want anyone to see her face and/or to know her name, she didn't want to see anyone's face and/or know their names. She needed that anonymity to maintain her sexual excitement. She needed to feel that her attackers were rapists and that she was being raped.

Most times, the only woman in the theatre watching the movie, as if they were rats or roaches looking for food instead of sex, one by one, men would creep closer. Once she had men sitting on either side of her, men in front of her, and men sitting behind her is when her XXX-rated entertainment started. When perversely perverted men surrounded her is when she'd allow them to touch her, feel her, undress her, take her, and force her to sexually pleasure themselves while sexually pleasuring her.

"Feel my tits," she whispered. "Finger my nipples. I love having my nipples fingered. Pull them, twist them, turn them, pinch them, and squeeze them. Now, give me your cocks. Stick them in my hands and stick one in my mouth. While I suck one cock, someone give me another cock. As soon as one ejaculates in my mouth, someone else stick their cock in my mouth," she said as if she was a submissive Dominatrix.

Not wanting to be identified by her voice, she never spoke out loud but just whispered in a voice not her own. Actually, with her there alone and without an escort in such a forbidden place, she didn't have to say anything out loud for the men to know what she wanted. What she sexually wanted was what they sexually wanted too. Besides, with her unable to talk with her mouth full, the men surrounding her weren't interested in what she had to say. They just wanted her to stroke them while sucking them. They just wanted her to be quiet while giving them what they sexually wanted.

"Shut the fuck up and blow me, bitch," is what they would have said if she dared make small talk at a time like this.

As if they were testing the sexual waters, it was always the same. Men would put a hand on her knee before sliding their hands up her short skirt or on her breast while feeling her B cup breasts and fingering her nipples through her blouse and bra. Playing her game but taking her sweet time doing it, she'd brush their hand from her leg or swat their hand from her breasts. While waiting for them to be more sexually aggressive, she feigned her struggle in resisting their sexual touches for her to pretend to maintain her modesty and her morals.

Not taking no for an answer while knowing full well why she was there alone, they'd unbutton her blouse to feel her breasts and finger her nipples through her bra. Eventually they'd lift her bra to expose her naked breasts. Then, touching her, feeling her, and fondling her naked breasts, they'd finger, pull, turn, twist, and even suck her nipples before reaching beneath her short skirt to finger her pussy through her panties and inside of her panties.

As long as they forced her to submit, and as long as they dare not try to kiss her, especially French kiss her, Kathy enjoyed being touched and felt by men. She loved having to submit her sexual will to men she didn't know, had never met, and would never see again. As if she was being raped, she loved being taken. She loved to be forced to sexually do what a virginal, religious woman should never willingly and voluntarily do.

* * * * *

From there, always the same, they'd unzip themselves and pull out their erect cocks. With her feigning her innocence by pulling her hand away, they'd force her hand on their cocks while forcing her to stroke them by moving her hand up and down with their hands. With her feigning her innocence by turning her head away, they'd force their cocks in her mouth. Once she had a cock in each hand, the two men behind her would stand, unzip themselves, pull out their pricks and force her to take their cocks in her mouth, first one and then the other. While masturbating two men, she took turns blowing two more.

A cum slut, Kathy loved swallowing gobs of cum. Different from women who didn't suck cock, Kathy loved sucking cock. Different from women who routinely faked their orgasms, she loved how men showed their sexual appreciation by cumming all over her hand, in her mouth, in her hair, all over her face, and on her naked tits. As much as she loved men ejaculating in her mouth, she loved men giving her a cum bath. She loved men showing her their sexual satisfaction and sexual appreciation by ejaculating their warm cum all over her.

Only, her having sex with men didn't work unless the men were rough with her and unless they forced her to have their wicked, sexual way with her. Playing the innocent virgin, she wanted them to force her hand on their erect pricks. Pretending she didn't want to suck them, it helped if they forced their cocks in her mouth and even slapped her face and/or pulled her hair, but not too hard. She needed to pretend that it wasn't her fault that men sexually took advantage of her.

"Pull my hair," she said while hoping they didn't pull her hair hard enough to pull off her wig. "Slap my face but not too hard and not hard enough to leave a mark. Pinch me. Pinch my nipples. Squeeze my tits as hard as you possibly can," she said. "Harder."

Actually, she didn't have to say anything. They men already knew her game to play. They all knew what they needed to do to get what they wanted and what they wanted was to cum. They knew she wanted to be forced. They knew she wanted to be taken. They knew she wanted to be raped.

* * * * *

Just as John had no idea how many panties and bras he had ogled, after three years, Kathy had no idea how many men had seen and felt her breasts while fingering her nipples. She had no idea how many men had fingered her pussy. She had no idea how many men she had masturbated and how many men had ejaculated their cum all over hand, her clothes, and her tits. She had no idea how many men had ejaculated their cum in her mouth and forced her to swallow by putting a heavy hand to the back of her pretty head, before cumming again all over her pretty face.

Different times a lifetime ago, that was then and this was now. Now that they were married, marriage had a way of changing people, especially when married with children. With the responsibilities of a mortgage and car payments, insurance, credit card bills, utilities, and everyday life, sex took a backseat. Just as John was happy that he had his memories of seeing so many bras and panties to masturbate over now, Kathy was happy that she had sexually pleasured so very many men.

Only, just as Kathy wanted less sex, John wanted more sex. With Kathy not willing to meet her husband in the middle, John did what he needed to do to sexually satisfy himself. A time before the Internet and free porn, he masturbated himself while reading dirty magazines. While Kathy read her books, John stroked his cock. Masturbating, masturbating, and masturbating, while Kathy worked in her garden, John lusted over the naked women in Playboy, Penthouse, and Hustler magazines.

### Susan Jill Parker -- Poor, Pitiful John ###

"She loves me, she loves me not," said John. "Married forever, she never loved me and I feel so used."

Today was Valentine's Day, the day of love, romance, and sex. Even though he still loved his wife, sadly, he suspected that she no longer loved him. With him just an average looking guy and her such a beautiful woman, maybe she never loved him. He was sick to his stomach when he thought of romance and when he thought of her no longer loving him or never having loved him.

The thought of him not celebrating the holiday of love, romance, and sex made him angry. Yet, they no longer celebrated any holidays, not Christmas, nor even birthdays. Just as he couldn't remember the last time they celebrated a holiday, he couldn't remember the last time they had sex.

* * * * *

John worshiped the ground Kathleen walked on when he married her. He counted his blessings every day that she was in his life. Every Valentine's Day, he bought her flowers, wine, candy, perfume, a sexy nightgown, and a romantic card. He made reservations at a fancy restaurant. Usually disappointed, he hoped to have sex with her later than night but seldom did.

Now, he doesn't buy her flowers, wine, candy, perfume, a sexy nightgown, nor make dinner reservations at a fancy restaurant. He doesn't bother looking through the racks of Valentine's cards to buy her the perfect one. Tired of caring for the flowers, drinking the wine, eating the candy, her not wearing the perfume, nor wearing his sexy nightgown, not appreciating his heart felt Valentine's Day card, and cancelling dinner reservations, he submitted to her will.

She stopped buying him cards and gifts long ago, long before he stopped buying her cards and gifts. With her not reciprocating his love, his affection, and his sexual attention, why should he even bother? The loving, sexual relationship he thought they had was dead. The love he once felt for her, had slowly withered and died like the dozens of roses he bought her. Now he knows better not to hope he'd be having sex with her any time soon. With Valentine's Day just another day, they stayed home and did nothing. He'd watch TV and she'd read her book.

### Susan Jill Parker -- Until Death Do You Part ###

Even forty-five-years after he had been married, John still masturbated himself. Masturbation was his way of remaining the faithful husband and preventing him from cheating on his wife, Kathy. His sexual release, masturbation was his temporary fix for his horniness. Something he had done for 50-years, since 18-years-old, John masturbated himself every day at least twice a day.

Always so horny and feeling so sexually frustrated, with him seemingly having an endless supply of testosterone and cum since he was a teenager, he masturbated over his memories of all the up-skirt and down-blouses he had seen. He masturbated over women he had seen in magazines and on the big screen at the movies while imagining them naked and having sex with them. Such a long time ago, a lifetime ago, he masturbated over Marilyn Monroe, Angie Dickinson, Maureen O'Hara, Sophia Loren, Elizabeth Taylor, Donna Reed, Jane Russell, and Lee Remick.

He masturbated over the memories of women sitting in the park on the grass or on his college campus that he had seen their panties and/or bras so long ago. He masturbated over the women he had seen walking ahead of him on a windy day when a sudden gust of wind blew up their skirts to their waists to expose their panties, their pantyhose, or their naked asses. He masturbated over the women on the bus who wore low-cut blouses and/or on the subway of the women who couldn't keep their legs closed.

He masturbated over the college coeds from his college campus from his younger days. He masturbated over the memories of the women he wanted to date but didn't. He masturbated over the memories of the women he should have married but didn't. Always masturbating, masturbating day and night, he never stopped masturbating.

Even though his mother was long since dead, with him having seen his MILF of a mother in her bra and panties, topless, and naked nearly 50-years-ago, he masturbated over the remembered sight of his indisposed and now deceased mother. Even though his sister was several years older than he was, with him having seen his sister in her bra and panties, topless, and naked too, he masturbated over the remembered sight of his sexy sister too. They lived together after his Dad died and, as if he had something important to tell them and with them not having locks on their bedrooms, he always barged in their bedrooms without knocking as they were changing.