Caution: wife sharing story ahead! If this subject is not your thing, please do not read any further and please demonstrate enough maturity not to comment. I'm most interested in feedback from fans of this genre.
I met Janine back in nineteen-ninety-nine, she was twenty-one, I was a crazy twenty-six, and we both happened to be at a weekend river bash on Lake Mead. I arrived late at night after everyone else had fallen asleep in their tents, and since I used to have a four-wheel drive Toyota pickup for towing my WaveRunner, I decided to forego the trouble of setting up a tent and just sleep in the back under the stars. At the time it seemed like the party-animal thing to do, but ended up being one of the most uncomfortable nights of my life.
In the morning I awoke to the sounds of people making breakfast at the picnic tables under our roofed campsite, and when I peeked my head up from the back of the truck, everyone screamed "Jake!" Janine was dicing onions, and my first impression of her was that someone's cousin had tagged along. She just didn't quite fit in with any of my friends. She came across as a little shy, wore narrow rimmed glasses, and had zero tan. In fact, my friend's brother-in-law, this very cool Mexican guy named Arty, kept calling her Snow White the entire weekend. Odd or not she was beautiful, and as it turned out, she'd been in my extended network of friends for sometime and we just never had an opportunity to meet.
The camp sites along that stretch of the lake were mainly for boaters to park their cars and leave their gear, and the area remained dusty and noisy throughout most of the day, so after wake boarding behind the boats and zipping around on the WaveRunners all morning, we decided to take all our watercraft to a secluded beach where we could layout, drink, and smoke a little something in private.
Janine ended up on the back of my WaveRunner, and over the noise of spraying water, asked what had happened to my back. Apparently the ridges running along the bed of my pickup left a huge bruise across my shoulder blade during the night. Beyond that she wasn't very talkative, but when everyone had settled on a good size sand bar for us to party on, I took a chance and lay next to her in the hundred degree heat, and proceeded to tell her about my shitty night in the back of the truck. As she rubbed bullfrog sun-block all over herself, she surprised me by offering to share her tent. The tables sort of turned in that instant, because up until then I was being intentionally kind to the odd-ball Arty had nick-named Snow White, but then I'd suddenly found myself incredibly intimidated by this bikini clad hottie who'd soon be sleeping at my side.
I've never been exceptionally smooth with woman, so I had to get plenty drunk during our last night at the river to make anything resembling a move. It paid off, though, and made out for hours––and from what I can remember it was incredible. The next day my friend Nick came up to me with a crazy smile on his face, and said, "Goddamn, I can't believe you hooked up with Janine. Man, she is
fine
!"
"I know," I said, with a crazy smile of my own, "I can hardly believe it myself."
It was the truth, I really couldn't believe it. Janine is five-eight with gorgeous long legs and a strong protruding ass that gobbles up bikini bottoms. She has 'B' or possibly 'C' cup breasts that sit high on her chest and give her torso long wonderful curves. She has raw umber eyes, but they'll turn golden if the light is right. Her hair is dark auburn, wonderfully soft, and usually kept in a ponytail. When I first saw Katie Holmes in 'Go', I was floored at the resemblance.
Back home in L.A. we kept on dating, and two years into the new millennium we tied the knot in a quaint church by the Marina. She wakeboards
almost
as well as I do, she can at least keep up when we go mountain biking, and she's got some skills on a snowboard. Our tastes in films and food overlap enough that we never have a difficult time deciding what to do on date night. She introduced me to sushi, turning me into a real addict, and every anniversary dinner has been spent at The Hump sushi restaurant by the Santa Monica airport. Janine even bought a snug fitting, red, oriental dress especially for our anniversary dinners. She claimed it was technically a Chinese cheongsam, but it looked too good on her to worry about such details. I loved, loved, loved helping her button up the rope buttons across her chest and leading up to its high collar, and the end result appeared so stiff and distinguished and so gorgeously snug fitting, that she seemed a present waiting to be unwrapped at the end of the night.
***
Janine and I were a great couple, everybody said so, however our one big problem came up during our first year of marriage. To me it seemed like she'd lost some interest in sex, in fact, it seemed as if it had grinded to a halt. It was frustrating to say the least, and I consulted a friend of mine from work, a guy named Tim. He was always telling stories about how he'd destroyed all this willing collage pussy back home in Texas, and every one of them ended the same way, with him saying, "But I'm married now." So it came as no surprised when Tim's response to my situation was, "Jake, you got married, what did you expect?" And that got me worrying––does marriage kill sex in even the most perfect relationships?
Tim and I sort of became our own support group by joking about it at work. He'd been married for ten years, and would always say, "Let me know when you've completely given up on Janine and we can hit the strip clubs." I can't say the idea sounded horrible, but it didn't exactly seem right, either, and I always declined.
Actually, and I never told Tim this, I'd learned to deal with my frustration in a slightly more private way. Janine was a computer programmer who worked in a room full of men on medical software, but she also taught an early morning class at Santa Monica High. To make her class, she'd leave for work an hour earlier than I did, so I began to spend this extra time masturbating in bed. I'm ashamed to say that back then my favorite subject to crack the corn over was a wild night with my ex-girlfriend.
It happened when my ex and I were driving around and both of us were out of ideas on what to do, so she up and said that if I gave her twenty dollars she let me fuck her any way I wanted. Hell, I pulled over in an alleyway, gave her twenty, and screwed her really nasty in the backseat of my car. Actually we left the car door opened, so she was lying across the bench seat and I was standing outside with my pants around my ankles banging her every which way I could. Whores turn me off, but I was obsessed with jacking-off to that night with my ex when she allowed herself to become a real dirty girl for my pleasure. Something about that just worked magic on my imagination.
Meanwhile, Janine was well on her way to being the proper sexless housewife, and I felt completely guilty over my nasty little obsession, like I was betraying her daily. Over the next year we probably had sex a whopping thirty times, but then one day out by the pool at her parent's house in Malibu, I began to see things quite differently, and that changed everything.
We'd often spend the weekends there when her parent's left town, and that year her folks happened to travel a lot. I loved their Malibu house––they had kidney bean shaped pool, and their yard ended at a steep slope into a canyon, with a streak of the Pacific Ocean visible over the next hill. It also caught a sea breeze that made the air smell and taste of it, not to mention a noticeable lack of smog.
It was midsummer, and we'd been slightly drunk all day long, doing nothing but barbequing, swimming, and hanging out in the sun, when a girlfriend of hers, still living with her folks in the neighborhood, stopped by to join us. Her friend Lisa had a slightly thicker build and wore a white one piece. Janine had on a black bikini, her skin loaded with sun block. When I see Janine's figure contrasted with another woman's, it's always a fresh reminder of what a great narrow waist she has, and it makes her hips and ass look wider than they really were, not to mention a set of long slender legs and an elegant neck. Listening to Lisa speak also drew attention to how deep and soothing Janine's voice was, for a woman's, that is. Lisa wasn't bad, and kind of reminded me of that hot little Patty Duke chick whose show reran on Nickelodeon when I was a horny teen. It was her hair more than anything, but she also had a similar smart yet clumsy personality about her.
Janine isn't a huge talker, as I've said, but as she and Lisa lay in the chaise lounges, she wouldn't shut up. First they went on and on about the Lord of the Rings movies, and then Lisa started filling her in on what all her old friends had been up to. I'd known Janine was a bit of a geek, having things like movie soundtracks in her CD collection, and a wall full of computer text books lumped in with some classics and a full Shakespeare set, but as they reminisced about old school pals and the fact that neither of them had used their pools when they were kids, I suddenly saw her as one of those total backpack wielding nerds. Her folks had a photo from when she was fourteen or so, in which she wore pink preppy collard shirt, had a big smile full of braces, tall oval glasses that did nothing for her face, pigtails held with cherry sized beads, and a little red nose. I'd laughed when I saw it hanging on their wall for the first time, Janine punching me for it, but it still hadn't registered with me that she'd actually been a full on adolescent nerd.
The more they talked about old friends, the more they started screaming about what geeks they all used to be, and the more I laughed. Then Janine shouted, wondering how she could've ever become such huge dork. I had to but in, absolutely sure I knew the answer, and said, "I'm sorry, Janine, but looking at your parents, they weren't prepared for a beautiful daughter."
It was true, her parents were not lookers. Her dad didn't have any people skills, either, and I had no idea how he'd made so much money. For a living he checks literature and television for historical accuracy, and I guess he's the perfect huge brained geek to do it, but I just never figured it as the kind of gig that affords you a house in Malibu. Her mother was also a timid plain looking lady and a complete mystery to me. They had no idea how to raise a girl whose looks alone would make her popular, of that I'm sure. Marrying their daughter felt like I was a fox who'd trotted into a rabbit's den and made off with a five-star meal. I never heard a single concern or question come from either of them, and then I was suddenly her husband and they knew nothing about me.
How Janine and her friend ceased to be nerds was a much easier moment to pinpoint that afternoon. Janine said it was when her tits first appeared and she started to throw her shoulders back so boys would take notice. Lisa thought different, yelling, "Bullshit, it was when you screwed Brad."
Once the cat was out of the bag, I was aloud to hear the whole story. Brad was apparently Mr. Dreamboat, and he couldn't help but notice that Janine was cute, nerd or not, and asked her to a party. Lisa referred to it as Janine's 'Pretty in Pink' moment. Janine not only said yes, she also dumped her current boyfriend like a hot potato, which was something Lisa claimed he had yet to forgive her for, and that update made Janine feel horrible for it all over again. The poor guy had a huge plan to start a publishing company with her, a project he'd poured his heart into all so Janine could work on historical fiction, and then
wham
––she's dating the best looking guy in the 'Too Blue Crew,' which was the self proclaimed name for the football team. It was pretty cruel. Then, before Janine even knew what was happening, she found herself spending a lot of time in the back of Brad's Bronco, getting her Elizabethan bouquet pummeled jock-style.
They'd only dated for two weeks before it ended, but two weeks with Brad was all it took to put her on everyone's radar. She began getting dates left and right with the 'Too Blue Crew' and several of the cooler boys, and by her senior year she'd dropped physics and had a B average. Janine the nerd was long gone, with Lisa right at her heals.
Having overheard the entire conversation, I found myself with hard-on and had no idea why. It painfully rubbed against the strips of plastic that supported me on the chaise lounge, but I wasn't about to roll over and let it be seen. I'd never met this guy Brad, but imagined him as some giant tough looking linebacker, like Lawrence Taylor, and banging on little nerdy Janine from behind. I imagined her just like the picture hanging in her parents' hallway, the one I'd laughed at, only her mouth full of braces had transformed into a vacuous 'O' and he was handle-barring her pigtails while delivering some grandiose dickin'.
It was a complete mystery to me why I was so turned on by this, and that night in her parent's bed I held her tightly and kissed her passionately, and proceeded to make strong inspired love to her as thoughts of her and Brad filled my mind. I'm sure part of it was being in her parent's house, which reminded me that she used to be someone else's little girl with desires all her own. And another part of it, of course, was knowing for certain that some other guy had stuck his dick in Janine––stuck it in and fucked the nerd clean out of her.
As we continued to make love in her parent's bed, I struggled to hold back and whispered into her ear the one question you should never ask your lover, let alone your wife. It had once been explained to me that you don't inquire as to how many lovers your partner might've had, because if there were only a few then she would've volunteered that number long ago, but if she's never mentioned it, well then...
