I laughed to myself as I walked down the hall to attend a meeting at work. When I was in my cubicle a few minutes before, John and Walter had stopped by and were telling me about another guy we knew. His name was David and he was so in love with one of our clerks that he couldn't even begin to see any of her faults and thought she was perfect. We all had agreed that this was one time when the old cliche "love is blind" certainly applied.
The reason I was laughing to myself was that a thought had come into my head about my relationship with my wife Sara. Love is blind would never apply to us I thought. I felt we each had learned the other's faults and defects and had worked our way around them. My name was Sam Johnson and we almost never had an argument and loved each other very much.
We had met at a party through mutual friends. At the time we had both graduated from college and had been in the working world for a couple of years. She was a school teacher that taught fifth grade while I was a mid-manager in a company that owned some natural gas pipelines and a part interest in an oil refinery. We had dated for six months, fallen in love and decided we were ready and had gotten married.
That was three years ago and I was now 27 and Sara would be the same in a couple of months. We both had built up good credit reports while we were in college and our combined salaries had let us qualify to buy a very nice three bedroom, two bath, house in a new housing development that was just outside the city limits. Although it felt like we were in the country and our house was on an acre and a half lot, we both had reasonable commutes to work. Mine was twenty to twenty five minutes depending on traffic and Sara's was a little less, maybe fifteen to eighteen minutes.
Sara had the added benefit of getting off much earlier than I did since the school let out at three fifteen and the teacher's got to leave at four. I was lucky to leave by five thirty and it almost always was six. So I would get home about six thirty and Sara would already have been home for over two hours.
She would have picked up the house, cleaned the bathrooms and kitchen and have supper waiting either on top of the stove, in the oven, or occasionally in the crock pot. Sara was an excellent cook who had been trained by her mother and then gone on to learn from cook books and come up with some of her own recipes. Life was good I tell you! I appreciated what I had and knew it was special.
In my own way I tried to make it special for her also. I kept the yard in immaculate condition and planted flowers that she picked out in long beds alongside the front of the house. The inside of her car was vacuumed and wiped down at least twice a week and washed every other weekend.
I never learned to cook very much but at least twice a week I would bring home a pizza or take her out to eat. With the help of one of our neighbors I did learn how to grill burgers, chicken and an occasional steak. I won't say that they were first rate but as long as I kept the burgers medium, the chicken well and the steaks medium rare, they were at least edible.
There were two things we did together. They were doing laundry and paying bills. Believe it or not I really enjoyed it when we did those things together. It gave me a sense of belonging to a unit and made me feel closer to her. Sara had to keep reminding me not to wash white with colors and delicate with jeans but aside from that we worked like a well oiled machine. We emptied the dirty clothes hamper, separated the various fabrics, and washed three loads twice a week. I would pull the clothes out of the drier and fold towels and sheets while she put stuff on hangars and folded the rest of the clothes.
When we paid bills, we both sat at the kitchen table and laid them all out and added them up. Before marriage we had agreed to have separate bank accounts. So we would look at the totals and then allocate who paid which bills from their account. Of course it never came out exactly even but I didn't think it should since I made more money. Sara also bought groceries and household goods during the month so those were considered also. It usually ended up that I paid the mortgage, car payments and utilities bills and Sara paid the telephone and cable tv.
We each had our own credit cards and paid those off on our own unless there had been a major purchase for both of us. This ended up with me paying about 65% of the bills and Sara paying the rest. That seemed fair to both of us and we almost never argued about money which a lot of young couples seemed to do. I never knew what the balance in her account was and she didn't know about mine.
But now we come to the one place that I wasn't satisfied with. How often we had sex and what type we had. I admit a lot of it was my fault. My sexual experience before marriage had not been the greatest. Oh, I wasn't a virgin but not too far from it. High school I was mostly dateless and in college I dated six girls and slept with three of them. The sexual relationships never seemed to last more than a couple of months so I hadn't had a lot of chances to practice. All I knew was it usually felt pretty good to me.
My favorite sexual experiences from college were not the girls I had gone all the way with and fucked. There was one girl I dated off and on for almost a year named Jeanine who would not go all the way. We weren't exclusive with each other but almost always had at least one date a week. After the third one, she drew me behind some bushes at the side of her dorm. She pulled down my zipper, pulled out my cock and proceeded to give me my first and I still feel my finest blow job.
Every date after that one ended the same way. Needless to say I was in heaven over that. I would have gone out with her every night of the week if she had let me. However, as you might suspect, she was very much in demand and she liked going out with a bunch of different guys. After a year though she told me she was engaged and couldn't go out with me anymore. Funny thing about that was I saw her with at least three different guys after that.
That was the first time that I knew a girl had lied to me. It was also the first time I started to feel a little insecure in a manly way. So, although I tried to please Sara in the bedroom, I didn't know if I was getting the job done or not. She never had complained and never turned me down. But all we did was missionary sex. No blowjobs, no other positions and she never initiated the sex. We never talked about it either. That had included any talk about our past sex experiences also. Sara hadn't been a virgin, or at least there hadn't been a hymen, but she never told me who had done the deed or anything else about her previous boyfriends.
It wasn't as though either of us would ever be in the top 100 sexiest people or anything like that. But we were both better looking than most. Sara was a little doll. She was very petite, standing five feet even and under a hundred pounds. Her hair was very thick and a beautiful auburn color. I loved the way it framed her cute little face. Great dark eyes, succulent lips, and a little pixie nose all added to her looks.
