I'm your basic suburban family man with a loving wife and two teenage children. To an outsider, our lives appear the classic "Leave it to Beaver" picture of domestic tranquility; nice house in the suburbs, good jobs, great kids, Sunday afternoon barbecues, and white picket fences. But in the bedroom, our sex life has recently taken a seriously divergent path. Thank goodness none of our friends know about our new sexual adventures, but behind closed doors, my wife has recently taken the reins and now directs our sexual escapades in a way that would make most pornstars blush and would absolutely shock our neighbors. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
We met in college and married shortly after graduation, moving to Denver to be near her family. Our sex life has always been adequate, although after the second child, passion has waned significantly. Both kids are now in high school and we are approaching our forties. Sex had become a one-night-a-week chore that left me barely satisfied. In fact, I had recently unleashed the world wide web of porn on the internet to get me off between our weekly fornications. After everybody was in bed for the night, I'd retire to the study, sit down at my keyboard and surf my way to a satisfying jerk-off.
As the weeks progressed, the r-rated pictures of hot little teen cuties had less and less effect on my middle-aged boner. I started surfing more hardcore stuff; orgies, bdsm, bi-sexual, transvestite, and even gay sites. The nastier the porn, the more I got off. After shooting a big load, I'd feel embarrassed and guilty, but I'd be back for more the next night, looking for more bizarre pictures to get me off. I became infatuated with pictures and stories of dominant women that took total control of their men, using collars, cuffs, toys, strapons, and multiple sex partners to humiliate their submissive boy-toys.
One night after dinner, I retired to the study to do some surfing and was surprised to find the computer on and a slide-show of my saved pictures playing on the screen.
As a panic overtook me, my wife's voice echoed from the doorway, "So this is what you've been doing every night for the last several months?" she barked with an accusing tone. "Surfing the internet for pornography!"
"I, I, I..." I stuttered, ashamed and more than a little embarrassed.
"Carl, you are one sick mother-fucker!" she screamed. "When I found those pictures on the computer, my first thoughts were to pack up the kids and get the hell out of here, stopping only long enough to call a divorce lawyer."
"I'm sorry Sarah," I whimpered, unable to formulate any coherent thoughts to defend my behavior.
"But," she continued, "I took a few deep breaths and thought it through. You've been a good husband and father, so I decided to give you a chance to explain yourself. Not that anything you say will make me despise you any less right now."
I tried to gather my thoughts even as the nasty pictures continued to scroll across the screen.
"I'm waiting," she exhaled.
"Honey, I can't begin to defend myself," I began. "Our sex life has been pretty mundane over the last few years, and I started surfing porn to..."
"You must be fucking joking," she cut me off. "You're going to tell me that this perverse behavior is my fault and you are looking at all this very disgusting porn as a marital aid to overcome the perceived lack of fucking you are getting. I supposed you'll also tell me its better than you fucking around on me with a mistress? Or maybe with a fuck-buddy based on some of that gay porn you seem so fond of."
"I swear dear, I've never been unfaithful to you," I replied.
"Yeah right," she cried. "Instead, you spend every fucking night in your study, your dick in your hand as you fantasize about all these sordid sexual scenes playing out on your computer. I looked at some of those pictures and movies you saved, that's some pretty disturbing stuff you've gotten into."
I couldn't argue with her on that point. "I know," I meekly replied. "I don't know what has gotten into me, but some of this stuff just gets me so damned horny. I started off just checking out pictures of pretty naked women, but recently I admit my fantasies have taken a darker edge."
"Oh that makes me feel so much better," she sarcastically sighed. "I think you need professional help, you fucking degenerate."
"I'll do whatever you say," I begged, eager to find a way to make this awkward situation better.
"I bet you will," she replied. "Based on some of those pictures, I see you like dominant women."
I thought I detected a note of playfulness in her voice, but my optimism was quickly squelched.
"You'll find some pillows and a blanket in the hall closet. I want you to think about what you've done and how it makes me feel as you toss and turn on the sofa tonight. We will talk more tomorrow. And for heavens sake, keep your fucking hand off your fucking dick for change; try thinking with your goddamn brain instead of your fucking cock!"
With that parting shot, she stormed off down the hall and slammed the door to our bedroom. As I reached over to turn off the computer, I was shocked to find my trousers were tented and my dick was rock hard. The firm tongue lashing my wife had just doled out had given me a huge boner. I was on the verge of having my marriage and my life crumble around me, but my dick didn't care. My wife's aggressive demeanor and verbal assault had me turned on like a teenage horn-dog. Maybe she was right; maybe I did need professional help.
The next day was Saturday, and with the kid's soccer games, yard work, and the other weekend chores, I had no alone time with Sarah. She gave me the cold shoulder most of the day and in the afternoon, she took the car and announced she was dropping the kids at a friend's house for a sleepover and then she was going shopping. I spent the afternoon cleaning the house and made a pretty good dent in the honey-do list that had been accumulating all spring. I figured that would be one less thing Sarah could yell at me about tonight.
I had just finished mowing the yard when the car pulled in the driveway. I met Sarah as she got out of the car, eager to finish our conversation from the night before. The suspense was killing me and I wanted to see where I stood.
"Honey, can we talk?" I began.
"We can talk later," she replied, as she grabbed several bags from the back seat. "Go take a shower."
I tried to help her with the bags, but she pulled away. "I said, go take a shower! You don't listen very well do you?"
Obviously she was still pissed off. I was anxious to see if 24 hours had improved our situation, but having her bark at me like that only made my dick tingle in my shorts. My wife is typically very passive and she almost never raises her voice. I had to shamefully admit, her anger and aggression were making me hot. I hurried into the house and headed for the shower before she could spot my growing erection.