This story has sexual content so if you are under 18 please leave.
If you are over 18 I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
I welcome and am happy to respond to positive feedback, and I'm always pleased to chat with like minded folks.
As always; all characters are figments of my imagination.
*
I'm Mike Paterson; an operations manager for a logistics company in Irvine, California. I'm a big solid guy, mid 40's, easy going and reasonably good-looking I'm told, and a very competitive handball player so I'm pretty fit.
My wife Joan is couple of years younger than me, an HR manager for an F500 company in our hometown of Newport Beach. Tallish, redheaded, sassy, great figure. If you like your women curvy and big-breasted with dancer's legs she'd be your dream girl.
Our journey began when I got a call about 7.30 one Friday night saying Joan was at the certain hotel in Seal Beach, and I should go check it out. Female voice, muffled; fake accent. I didn't go, but kind of confronted her when she got home about 10 and the way she dropped her eyes told me everything I needed to know.
She went upstairs. I finished the bottle of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay I'd started after the phone call. Then another one. I crawled into the bed much later, muzzy headed. Lying in the dark I thought I heard her sob a couple of times.
I woke late. Joan was gone. I assumed on her usual Saturday morning run. I made the bed and I made coffee; then sat out on the upstairs deck working on my hangover, watching the yachts trade back and forth around Balboa Island at the height of the balmy morning, and trying to sort out my feelings.
Why was this happening to us? We were each others best friends; we'd raised two great kids now away at good colleges and had all the trappings of successful careers. Nice house in the Marina with a 25ft cruiser berthed at the bottom of the yard, Porsches -- a 911 for me and an SUV for her; the works. And we'd had a comfortable sex life over the years. Sure it had tailed off over time but wasn't that normal for most couples? Right then it all seemed pretty worthless.
What bothered me a lot was that this wasn't the first time. There'd been another guy she'd met while away on business and told me about from guilt one night. She said it had faded out pretty quick out of loyalty to us once the initial buzz had passed. Perhaps there were others.
This wasn't going to be fatal for us unless she wanted it to be; I'd forgiven her the other time and would again. But though damnit I loved the woman I could connect the dots: Whatever Joan's sexual needs were I surely wasn't satisfying them.
Perhaps if we talked about that stuff; our fantasies and desires. We never really had. Just hadn't seemed appropriate in middle of raising kids. Anyway the things I thought about, men only did with hookers didn't they? I couldn't talk about those with a wife. But the fact was I was feeling horny. I kept having images of her at the hotel last night. I imagined her naked, legs wide open, the guy between them. It had been the same the last time. I'd jerked off for days after she'd told me, thinking about it. What was wrong with me, that the thought of my wife caught up in uninhibited lust with someone else was so incredibly arousing? I must be nuts.
The front door opened and shut and shortly afterward I heard the shower running. A few minutes later she stepped tentatively out on the deck, looking stunning in a white robe tied together below her breasts. She'd fluffed her hair and done her lipstick and nails, and was carrying two big glasses of wine.
She sat. A Clelland ketch; about a fifty footer, was crossing the bay. There were at least half a dozen owl decoys stuck on it at strategic places to discourage the gulls. Like that would work. We watched it for a while. When she looked at me the corners of her eyes seemed damp.
"Do you want a divorce?" I asked, getting my greatest fear out in the open.
"No" she said with a sniff. "Well, I want things to be different, but I don't want it to come to that".
Score one for the team of Mike and Joan. Worth something after all.
"Different how?"
She took a big sip of wine and struggled for the right words.
"Mike over the years, the jobs, your late nights, mine, we've become ....companions".
"I think we're more than that" I said, a bit too defensively.
She put her hand on my leg, eyes very wet now. "Sweetheart you're the only man I've ever wanted to be with, for always, but not the only one I've ever wanted to..."
"Fuck?"
She just looked away.
"Is that what these other guys give you?"
I knew there was harshness in my tone, but I didn't care.
"That and..." she started to say and trailed off.
"And?"
She continued gazing out over the idyllic bay.
"It's complicated".
I drank a mouthful of wine. It was very good. Perhaps a bit early in the day, but a hair of the dog and all that ...
She turned in her seat and leaned forward over the table. Her voice was quiet but firmer now that the ice was broken.
"I love you Mike and I would truly do anything for you, but this has to do with who I am, and what I need to be true to myself. I probably can't change. I'm so sorry if I'm hurting you".
"What fucking other guys is something you need?"
"You could put it in that crude way. Say it any hurtful way you like actually, you're entitled. There are just... things I need..." She trailed off helplessly.
"Why can't you get them from me?"
She turned her head to the side thoughtfully, and sipped from her glass.
"It's a fair question. Let me first say though I didn't just wake up one day after twenty years of marriage and just decide to go bed hopping. I thought about it a lot first".
"Oh you planned this, and you can actually narrow it down to a time?"
The sarcasm was driven by a chill that had come over me. Till that moment I'd thought I was dealing with serial incidents of passing restlessness. But she'd planned this?
"Yes. Remember when Ailsa was packing for college?"
I did remember that time. Ailsa was our youngest and heading off to Stanford. Joan had been oddly moody, so different from her usual mischievous good nature. I'd put it down to the nest being empty and it had passed after a while.
"Yes".
"Well I realised I just needed... more".
"And why can't that more come from me?" I said more plaintively that I liked.
"Because... you are always so..." She struggled for the right word, shifting in her seat. "Gentle. So... considerate".
"Those are bad things?"
The sigh was deep and heartfelt.
"No dear they just aren't always what I need".
She studied her nails for a moment then spoke as if she had made some decision.
"Sweetheart this is leading into a dangerous place. No matter what I say I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you and that's the last thing I want. You've been nothing but a kind, generous, supportive husband. This is all about me, about my needs".
I reached over and took her left hand in mine. "Well let's do that, ok? Let's talk. I want to know where I've come up short. If gentleness and consideration aren't what you need, what DO you need?"
"I need to... not be in control. No that's not quite right".
She thought for another moment.
"Look to express this I need to talk in the language I hear in my head when I think about it, ok? Don't be shocked alright?"
I nodded.
"Sometimes I need a man to take what he wants from me. Hold my hands above my head so I can't escape and fuck my wet cunt. Make me suck his hard cock, use me for his pleasure. Make me his fuck-toy".
She sat back in her seat and watched my reaction carefully.
