"And... What if I start, and I love it, and I don't want to stop, hmm?" Karin says, more than a tad on the teasing side.
"Well, honey, all the better," I reply, playing along in the same tone. The worst is, I really mean that. All the way.
"I can't believe that," she says, trying to sound matter-of-factly.
"You don't say. Of
course
you believe me. That's what's holding you, come to think of it. You know I'm gonna love it every step of the way." I smirk at her, gently mocking her false pretenses at reluctance.
Gradually, over the few last weeks, she has begun to offer less resistance to the idea. Of course, she isn't about to admit it in so many words just now, but definitely, something has given within her, and I feel it. I know her by heart. That's how much I love her.
Over the last two weeks, every time we've made love, we've used it to raise the excitement level up several notches, both her and mine. She even took the initiative several times to use it as a fantasy while we had sex. She is more than warming up to it, no question.
I'm sure her worry is genuine, though.
What
if she takes more than a liking to it and includes it indefinitely as part of her sex life? I'd love it, as I said, and I do mean it. And I'm sure she would too.
But Karin has a few remaining obsolete and rusted principles that I'm trying my damnedest to obliterate. Remnants of a misspent youth, I guess. She was a virgin until age 22. On the surface, she is all about believing in the strong, hermetically closed couple, traditional and united in everything. Underneath, I know she's started to boil a while ago, and is deeply troubled –in the good sense- by the idea of servicing another man's needs and caprices to their full extent. Moreover, as heartless as it may sound, I'd really like her to delve into this world of extra-marital depravity while we both have some beautiful years ahead of us. She's 32, has never looked so desirable and attractive, and has a great sexual energy. On that subject, Karin has an intriguing, but exciting –as far as I'm concerned- special feature regarding sex. She cries almost every time she makes love, particularly when she climaxes, she can't help it, nor would I wish that she can. I love it, it melts me every time.
So, she does love sex quite a lot, despite her late start. Only she's pretty exclusive about it so far. And that's my curse.
Try to understand me here. Karin's what one could call the archetypal voluptuous, feminine beauty, as far her body's concerned at least. She's rather tall, she stands at 5'8, has long, straight and wonderfully silky dark blonde hair. She's insanely curvy without being overweight or worse, just... cushiony. Comfortable would be the proper term. She reminds most people of Anita Ekberg, only prettier –at least I think so- and with much more massive breasts. Her 40 DD, grapefruit-like, makes many a male and female head turn; she ceased being bothered by all the looks long ago. I've had a number of women before I met her, but I never came across breasts so big and firm at the same time before, even though of course their heaviness make them hang close to the south side when she's not wearing a bra or a very tight top.
Wide, wide hips and a lower back that looks like a ski jump track, leading to her firm, very round ass, prolong that perfection, while a nicely proportionate, reasonably thin waist and flat belly (we don't have kids yet) complete the picture. Now, she isn't model material by any stretch and is not a classic beauty as far as her features are concerned either. Thankfully. But she's very pretty, in a girlish, fresh kind of way, and has that rare sparkle to her. She
is
harmonious, criminally sexy, gets hit by guys all around all the time, and is very comfortable in her skin. She's very natural about it all, not self-conscious.
Almost every time we go to a party or club or something, I leave her alone for a while on purpose and wander around, trying to overhear guys' comments about her when they talk among themselves. "Hey, you know that big-titted blonde over there?" "Wow, look at Miss Boobs. I'm sure she hasn't seen her feet in years." "Oh, man, that's one hot broad. I'd sure love to play hubby for two hours. You think she swallows, too?" Like that.
If I have to be honest, though, eavesdropping on guys is not my sole purpose when I leave her alone in a crowd of strangers like that. Always, I nourish the hope that she
will
remark someone and make a very nice, full of promises male acquaintance. To no avail so far.
I can't praise her various merits enough, but the more it goes and the less I can get past her only flaw in my eyes. She's sexually monogamous, and that has to change, no question. For me, it has become close to intolerable.
She fixes me with her light green eyes, smirks.
"I know you would. Pervert."
"The fact is you would too."
"Maybe. Maybe not..."
"Life's too short for 'maybe', baby."
She rolls her eyes mockingly. She comes toward me and does what she knows makes me shut up best.
*****
Over the next few days, our fantasy talks revolve almost exclusively around The Idea. Like a flower, I see her open more and more and absorb this new light shone onto her desires, driving her to some of the most intense orgasms I have known her to have when we make love. Whether she likes to admit it or not, things are gearing up, and my psychological invasion and destruction of some of her certainties are taking a hold for sure. The following weekend, I feel, without fooling myself, that considerable progress has been made. Still, a lifetime of education had to be undone, and that takes patience and time.
*****
She tries to keep it all theoretical, but the shine in her eyes tells me her desires are real enough.
"So, what if I met someone? I wonder what your first words may be when I tell you
that
."
"'Halleluiah'?"
"For real. Come on, it would be fun to know."
"Really? Well I guess we'll just have to try it then," I say with my best perv smile.
She sighs in feigned exasperation. What's new is that she doesn't say anything. In typical behavior, normally she would negate the idea, even half-heartedly, just for the sake of it.
But she doesn't. In fact, she pauses for just a beat, her eyes distant, before going back to her business around the house, her movements rather slow and distracted. Her wheels are cogging.
Little by little, I have closed all the exits allowing her to escape the fact that it just has to happen. It's inevitable. I want it too much for it not to take place. I've put lots of efforts into it, cajoling, teasing, and persuading of every kind. Trying to make her see the light is no small feat. But she's getting less and less blind by the day. A deep stirring within me tells me the excitement The Idea generates within her cannot go anywhere but up, now. And she's beginning to be aware that to keep it up –and she wants to keep it up-, the next level has to be reached. The next level; the last, unavoidable level. Her belonging to another man, her being shared in every and all ways. I sense her abandon to The Idea growing, making her almost as ebullient as me to take the dive.
Karin is a perfect woman –at least I think she is. But that's just it, that's where we –she, rather- have a problem. She's a very, very sentimental and terribly soft hearted girl. She knows herself, and is aware that if she shares her intimacy with another man in any serious way, her heart will beat faster, whether she wants it or not. It's a very touching trait of hers, but one she doesn't, cannot, and won't control. If she'll let her body speak, then she'll let her heart fly. As for me, it needn't be a problem, but I know she fears that she'll have a behavior beyond the raw, pure sexual. Which for me is, of course, all the more exciting. Now, we
are
soul mates, for better or worse. One cannot live without the other, we know that by now. But, still, it scares her that she could be subject to bouts and fits of intense passion outside our couple. She knows that if she gives herself to another man, she'll be infatuated with him rather rapidly. She's afraid it will separate us.
I know better.
I cheated a little. In all my approach for her to do this, I repeatedly told her not to worry, that it would and could only be a sex fest, nothing else. Of course, I knew all the while that it won't be that straightforward or simple, but I can't tell her that. I can't tell her that it's a bonus as far as I'm concerned if she finds herself in the throes of passion with another man, at that point in time, this would hurt her profoundly. But she functions that way so far. Up till now, she only finds sexual solace when she feels strongly for her man, there's no way around it. For now.
That's part of why it had been so difficult to bring her to that point, part of why she never had flings or one night stands in her youth. She's always been a very nice lady in all ways. That's the point. Karin's a real lady, an adorable woman. She's never been a slut, even briefly, or even anywhere close to frivolous, ever. Before meeting me, she'd only had two other long, meaningful relationships. We've been married for five years now.
What's going to happen doesn't scare me. Maybe I'm being naïve, but neither of us thinks anything can take us apart. I'd swear my life on it. That's why I do want her to take the plunge into delicious abandon.
*****
She knows what I think about her physique, how much I praise it and appreciate it. She knows I consider her, physically, a Goddess. Soon enough, the germ of a challenge sprouts in my mind. Maybe she's reluctant about the final step because it's so easy. Too easy. Who knows, at that point.
"Okay," I say to her one night after sex, "you waited too long, princess. Now I have a condition if you ever want to please another man."
"See? You're backtracking! I knew it..." Her voice trails off. Is that disappointment I hear in it, or am I imagining it?
"I'm not. But the only way I'll know if you really want it is if you have to work a bit for it."
"Meaning?"
"Well, look at it this way. You're one hell of a sex bomb, and you know it. The kind of woman guys think about with both hands, right?"
"Geez. If you say so."
"I do. So, I'll accept nothing less than the same qualities in a guy if he is to touch you. The caricature of the virile, healthy male and all."
"Oh God. Spare me."
"Nah. Especially since I know you do respond to it. You're a girl, after all."
"Fuck you. Sexist bastard. Right, so what's the caricature of the male sex machine? I bet you can't really tell anyway."
"You're so right I can't," I lie. "But you can, and I'm all ears."
It's a bit of a surprise when she pauses and does think about it, a vague smile on her lips.
"Hmm, right. Brown hair, not bald or receding hairline. At
least
six foot tall, heavily muscled, nothing below 180 pounds. No facial hair, but his torso is all but covered in hair, you just can't see the skin. Abnormally well hung. Hard to please but demanding, domineering, macho. Comes twice as much as Peter North. How did I fare?"
I laugh at all that. I love her wits.
