The Music Within Me

"Tom, I don't know," I shouted, "I really need to leave now." For some reason I didn't feel ready to have children nor leave my job. Besides, if I had a child, I am sure that Tom would insist that I stay at home.

"OK, I'm sorry that I brought it up again. Its just that I love you so much," he said as he kissed and hugged me goodbye.

I arrive at the university late and wash the tears from my face. Why I volunteer to speak at another career night is beyond me. I proceed to give my twenty minute talk, listen to another talk and remain as little afterwards as possible to answer questions. Usually, I enjoy these opportunities because I am interested in speaking to the computer club about careers and industry trends but tonight my interest isn't here.

Normally I give out business cards afterwards but tonight I speak to three students and ease to the exit. A tall lanky guy, long black hair, pony tail, earrings approaches me and walks to the door with me. He is a music major but also doing a lot with computers. The music topic brings me from my doldrums. Music is my long lost passion. We speak briefly. Subconsciously, I reach into my suit pocket and give him my business card.

On the way home, my thoughts quickly return to my husband. He loves and idolizes me. But I break down in tears again as I realize I can't return it, at least, not from my heart. And, I don't know why.

Tom is from a large close family that loves me. At first I really liked and embraced this. My parents, both alcoholics, divorced when I was twelve, remarried, and started or acquired new families. My sister, brother, and I felt pushed out and replaced. We pretty much went our separate ways. The good news, my uncle helped me and I was able to go to college and end up with a good job that I liked. The bad news is that years of therapy and meetings didn't help me get over my pain and lack of trust in relationships. I also feel that Tom does not value my college degree and career. He does not realize that these are the few things that I have in life. We were both so young when we married, didn't know ourselves, much less be able to communicate it.

Things moved pretty fast. Robert emails and we discuss music and computers. This leads to more. That first evening at the university, I knew I was attracted to him. He is different; an artist, a music major, so energetic, so excited about things, so handsomely different.

Tom is police officer and works evenings a lot. I hang on the Internet boards and chat rooms. In the virtual world, I am 'Slut4U'.

After about a dozen email exchanges and chats with Robert, I casually send some flirting stuff and innuendoes. Surprising myself, I tell him I get wet thinking of him. I couldn't believe myself when I hit the send key that evening.

Tom and I had dated in high school and got married shortly thereafter. Other than a couple other dates during our dating break ups, Tom was my only relationship. When Robert kissed me that night, it felt so strange, so forbidden, so sinful, but so good. The juices bubbled within me. Reluctantly and nervously I had met him at a coffee shop that night.

We mostly talk of music and computers but our sex energy flows. After two hours, he walks me to my car. That's when he kisses me. His tongue dances with me and I, in return, dance with him. I can feel his hardness pressed into me and I press back to feel it, to acknowledge it. Quivers go though my body with his hand on my waist and the bare skin beneath my sweater. My body leads his hand to my breasts. My eyes close and body melts, my breasts being slowly and gently lifted out from my bra; his huge hand encapsulating them. I give to him.

My stomach contracts as his hand moves to my jeans, sliding in and down. Then out to undo the button. My juices flow as I feel and hear the zipper go down. The elastic on my panties is touched. His hand, moving down, combs the pubic hairs. I push towards the finger going into me as it curls up inside me and I squeeze around it. I panic as I start to feel myself reach that point. I pull back feeling scared and not knowing what I am doing.

I button up, tell him goodbye quickly, and jump in my car.

So many thoughts and emotions race though my mind on the way home. Sex with Tom was never anything like this that I was feeling now even though Robert had only touched me. Electricity went through my body.

Robert instantly sent me an email and apologized for pushing too far. For a nineteen year old, he is very sensitive and gentlemanly.

That Sunday as I sit silently in church with Tom, I resolve that I will divorce. A feeling of claustrophobia overwhelms me. Late October is my self-imposed deadline. I want it over before the holidays. It will be difficult for Tom as divorce is not looked upon favorably within his beliefs and family. I know I have wasted eight years of his life. Early in our marriage, I thought about converting to his Catholic faith and started taking the training. But it just wasn't me and I dropped out. It isn't that I am in love with Robert; it's more that I am not in love with Tom.

That evening I write to Robert sharing my feelings and background and why I reacted in such a way. "I want to see you again soon," was my last message that evening.

Three days later, I change into jeans and a loose blouse at work and nervously proceed to his house. He shares the rented house with two other music students. It was typical college style. Robert has some wine and snacks that we munch on and then take to his room to look at his musical and computer stuff. Although interesting and meant to relax, the anxiety of our intent was obvious and building.

"Are you ready," he finally asks.

"Yes," I reply. We both know what this means.

He turns downs the lights, kisses me softly and slowly and meticulously removes my blouse and jeans and I remember undoing his zipper and reaching in to feel him. I rub my hand up and down several times measuring its length and then enter to feel the flesh that I want inside of me which happens soon thereafter. His hand glides into my panties and I wait as one and then two fingers enter in me. Awkwardly, I pull his briefs down and he mine. I lie back on the bed, spread my legs and take him in.

Sex with Robert is so good. I can't believe it, here he is single and nineteen; I am married and twenty-eight. Oral, anal, etc., I experience so much with him. Tom just isn't into anything this erotic and, except for fantasies and Internet learning, I am such a novice.

Although he never outwardly flaunts it, I know Robert is proud of his white, older, married girlfriend. Occasionally, I feel it, resent it and relish it. At first I felt uncomfortable being at his house when his housemates were home. Their thoughts of what Robert and I were doing in the upstairs bedroom bother me. I hate going back downstairs afterwards with their eyes on me. After a while, I got use to it. They are pretty good guys. I enjoy their music, company, and carefree youthful attitudes.

One evening I go to Robert's for dinner after work. His roommates weren't there so I strip to my bra and panties while I help Robert with the dinner. I had been seeing Robert about once a week at that time. We hear his roommates drive up so I go to the sofa and cover with a throw. They join us for a while to watch a MTV special. I look over and see my business skirt, jacket, and blouse thrown over the dinning room chair in clear view; sexually, in my mind, they were taking turns fucking me. When they left, I took Robert into me almost immediately to quench my desires. Later I tell Robert of my thoughts.

I will never forget the date, October 22, and time. Robert and I are chatting about group sex. He shares with me the many things he and roommates have discussed concerning their fantasies and me. The conversation amuses me in a funny way and also excites me. But I really didn't think that I would ever do their fantasies.

It is shortly after 10 pm, there is a knock at the door. I am partially dressed and wet.

Tom has been seriously injured in the line of duty. Tom's cousin and another officer rush me to the hospital.

"I am sorry, Mrs. McFaddin," the doctor tells me, "your husband did not survive the gun shot wound."

There is a huge police funeral with dignitaries, press coverage and remarkable tear jerking tributes. So many things go through my mind including tremendous guilty. His family loves me so much but I just want it to be over and to be alone. I am exhausted by the hugs, invites and endless offers for help.

That Thanksgiving, I go to Tom's sister's home for the large family thing. I feel I owe it to them, to him and I need closure. I actually stay longer than I anticipate. I spend the rest of the weekend with Robert. Robert has been such a comfort. He doesn't talk; he just holds me.

In early December, Jason, Robert's roommate, invites us to his family's cabin by Big Bear Lake. It is a small, one-bedroom cabin that Robert had told me about previously. We know the intent of weekend although we don't discuss it. They bring their music. After some drinks, Jason and I dance to a few songs and soon, with Robert's encouragement, Jason and I are in the bed. Jason, who is six feet six is overwhelming to me; his large mouth between my legs possessed all of me. That evening I sleep and get serviced by both concurrently. Although sore and cramped, it felt good waking up in the morning smashed between the two of them. I fixed breakfast for them in my white bikini briefs. We joked that both Jason and Robert have budging low cut briefs on, black and red respectively. We all realize what will happen later.

Although it was fun and diverted my mind, I knew that I needed to work on a lot of things in my life. All my life, I feel that I have experienced the extremes and nothing fits.