This is no cuck story. In fact, it's definitely the opposite! Delaney insisted that I was responsible for what happened - that somehow I was to blame in my effort to improve our sagging sex life. I claim innocence mixed with a measure of naivety.
Bedroom time had become stale and that was the root of it.
Laney and I met in college and couldn't keep our hands off each other. Drinking parties with friends ended with private sessions in her dorm room. She was a fox with a healthy appetite and all the right moves. Delaney kept me primed by the hour as she got progressively naked, and I just couldn't fuck her enough!
Our health technician and management programs shared several classes. Sometimes, sitting in the darkest corners of the big lecture hall, we played a game to see who could make the other one come without anyone else knowing. Laney would go without panties for better access, while I wore loose track pants that she could easily get her hands into.
Delaney has a fabulous body- great tits- and she'd been using it for pleasure since high school. I had my own fair share of sexual experience too, so we spent plenty of quality time in the sack. I can still remember her long, black hair draped across my body as she voraciously sucked my cock.
Both of us managed to scrape through our courses and graduate. By then we were constant companions in and out of bed. What started as friends-with-benefits slowly blossomed. We made sure that our careers took us to the same city, and it wasn't long before we moved in together so we could hop like rabbits.
Laney and I married after another year or so. Then, ever so slowly, the shine started to wear off our sex life as the demands of our new careers pulled us under. Friday and Saturday nights, we'd go out with friends, then back home afterward it would be like those wild college days. But for the rest of the week... not so much.
We worked hard Monday to Friday, and usually came home tired. I was a junior manager in a tech lab, while she had a technical position in a health clinic. Neither job had room for error, and the responsibility began to take its toll. Delaney started earlier in the morning than me, and I came home later, usually after 6:00. Evenings were for household chores and recuperation. This went on weekly.
By our fourth anniversary, some weekend sex was the norm and anything else was unusual. We were too busy, too tired. We talked a lot about the good old days, but work was consuming us. Would job advancement bring a less demanding work regime? More responsibility brought even less intimate time.
A year later, we were down to 'Happy Saturdays' and little else. Friends would want to go out, but we declined more and more often. Now a quiet Friday evening- often falling asleep in front of the TV- appealed to us more than a noisy club. Twenty- seven years old, and already down to once a week!
We did well in our careers and were promoted, but it started to seem like the lab and the clinic owned us, dictating longer hours and paperwork in the evenings. There was precious little time for lovemaking because work was ruling our lives. After five years of marriage we were only having sex a few times in a month!
Things had grown stale in bed. It seemed to be the same routine every time: a little kissing; a quick move into some intimate touching; followed shortly by some basic sex. Occasionally, Delaney would go on all fours so that I could plug her from behind. Compared to our college romps, this was all very quick and tame.
One Saturday night we both lay looking at the ceiling after another so-so lovemaking session.
"Del, was that good for you?" I wondered aloud.
"Sure, but I didn't come tonight. Again." she replied hesitantly. "How about you, Steve? Satisfying?"
"Not bad, but we didn't last very long. Remember those hours back in your dorm room. Now that was my kind of sex!"
"But we were young then. Everybody slows down after a while."
"Hell Laney! We're only in our twenties, not sixty. It could be a lot better. Like those school days."
"I suppose. But we're dragged down with careers now. No time. No energy. No sex. That's how it goes, you know."
"And that's alright with you, is it? It's not what I expected. We should be so much better together."
A confession here: as things had become more routine, I spent increasing time surfing porn sites. Eventually it occurred to me that Delaney might find this as stimulating as I did. As far as I knew though, she never looked at the stuff, but that night I decided to find out.
"Del, would watching another couple having sex interest you?" I asked, carefully, testing the waters.
"Do you mean us with another couple?" She seemed incredulous. "Swinging? I don't want to get into anything like that!"
"No, that's not what I mean. Couples videos. Actual people our age having normal sex..."
"Pornography? I know you watch it, but I don't really want to. People are paid for it, so it wouldn't seem like love or even sincere."
"Well, it's not all like that. There's lovers' sex, more romantic, with real couples. Softer, with nice settings and big, fluffy beds. Lots of kissing and whispering. People moving along slowly and eventually getting there. Very natural stuff, not rushed."
"That does sound sort of kind of interesting, Steve. And you think this would be good for us in the bedroom?"
Delaney was taking the bait!
"Absolutely. We could watch it together and have fun like we used to."
She seemed interested, so I went for my laptop and brought it into the bed.
"Want to try it? Nothing to lose. If you don't like it, we'll just turn it off."
