Sarah's Journey

Thanks for being a reader!

I was told after Ch. 1 that Loving Wives is a "tough" category. Maybe this story belongs in the Fetish category because there is a cuckolding theme.

I intend for the story to be more as it unfolds. It's about Sarah's journey and she needs a little push at times. I think most cuckold stories are about the boys. This one will be from Sarah's point-of-view.

Anyway, there's your fair warning. Cuckold themes ahead. If that sounds o.k. to you then please read on and I hope you enjoy!

Constructive feedback is very much appreciated.

***

Over three weeks had passed since our night at The Grand and Ted and I struggled to find our old rhythm. It had been almost ten years since our first date. I always tried to look my best for him and I felt, most of the time, that Ted was under my spell in a wonderful and sexy way. I love him so much. I catch him checking me out often enough and that always feels absolutely delicious. Actually, it's easy to catch him doing it because if I'm walking away from my Ted then he is usually looking at my ass. A quick turn-around will bust him every time. It's always been like that with us.

The current problem was he wouldn't have sex with me, not like I wanted. It was actually very hard to admit it to myself but the truth is he'd stopped fucking me altogether. He kissed me like we were still one our honeymoon every morning when we both had to go to work. We met for lunch a few times in the past weeks and he acted like he wanted to cancel the afternoon and get a room. But when we were home and had time on our hands he gave me quick hugs, like I was his aunt, and avoided my mouth by kissing my forehead . We seldom went to bed at the same time. I tried to re-establish a shared bedtime but he usually managed to avoid it somehow, usually by staying up impossibly late watching television. I told myself all of this shit was all in my head. We love each other... always have and always will.

When I came home and found him hand washing the dishes that couldn't go in the dishwasher I might have let my mental state overpower me slightly. He has the cutest ass and it's silly but there aren't many things a man can do that are sexier than washing dishes by hand.

I guess I sort of grabbed him but I wasn't trying to sneak up on him. I thought he knew I was in the room and hug or a kiss is a typical 'hello' for us. I had one hand in the middle of his chest, one hand on his crotch, and was smashing myself against his back when he fumbled the over-sized wine glass he was rinsing, cut himself, and cursed like someone who was actually angry. Ted never gets angry, not really.

My nerves were a shot. I really had no idea how close to the edge I was at that point and, to be honest, I lost it. Of course, I let go of him and backed away. The shock wore off pretty quickly and turned into what had become a far too familiar feeling, rejection. I saw the blood but as soon as I knew it was a minor wound all concern I might have had about the tiny cut went right out the window. I was mad for a hundred reasons I had not sorted out, things I had tried to not see... and not feel. I hardly knew I had been walking on eggshells but I was sick of it. I was angry that touching husband made him angry, made him bleed. I was raging at the wall between us, a wall that seemed to appear out of nowhere but had somehow been built one small brick at a time.

"What the fuck, Ted?" I wasn't exactly using my quiet voice.

"I'm sorry. It's just a glass."

"I don't give two shits about the glass! What's happening to us?"

"Nothing's happening to us."

"I know you're not cheating, you're not gay, and I'm really trying over here!" I was shouting now, and trying not to cry. "I got a fucking bikini wax two weeks ago and you don't even know about it! Why is that?!"

He was stammering and trying to catch up. "No... I know... I... I want to... I... I'm so sorry."

He was sorry. Sorry for what? Sorry for avoiding me? Sorry he was tired of me? Sorry about my horrible body odor? What? There was the man I wanted kids with someday and he was 'sorry'. I could feel my my self-control slipping away.

"Shut up! Just shut up! Don't be sorry, Ted! Just talk to me! What's happening to us?!"

He stood there, wiping his eyes with the same paper towel that was covering the laceration on hand, and said the only thing that could have ended the exchange at that point.

"I'm so sorry."

I spun on my heel and walked out. Tears were flowing for real now. I started toward the bedroom but I knew he'd follow me there eventually and I seriously couldn't handle that right away. He didn't follow me to the garage until after he heard the door going up. By the time he got there I was already backed out onto the street.

..............

I had to pull over. Every stoplight was making it all worse because I literally didn't know which way to turn, mostly because I had no idea where I was going. I certainly wasn't in the mood to be seen by anyone. The hyperventilation was slowly fading away but my face was streaked with fresh tears, my nose was running mercilessly, and my eyes felt swollen. I could see the road again so I started driving.

Several hours later I found myself in Anne's driveway. She's that kind of friend. I knew I could go to her when I had no place else to go. When she opened the front door I tried to speak but the words caught in my throat and she just hugged me. That's Anne. She hugs first and asks questions later. She's smart too. She knew Ted would be crazy with worrying about me and she insisted I contact him so that he wouldn't start calling hospitals. I texted him and told him I where I was and that I was O.K. I asked him not to call so I knew he'd text back. He thanked god and swore up and down that our love whole life and nothing else mattered. He told me he was glad I was safe and at Anne's. He promised me he would explain everything and said he prayed I would understand.

I thought, for a moment, that I wanted to go straight back home to my husband but Anne begged me to re-think that idea. She didn't know anything beyond the look on my face and the recent text history but she quickly convinced me that I needed some time to collect myself. She opened a bottle of wine when I was in the bathroom trying to fix my face. I ended up spending that night at Anne's place. I couldn't imagine asking for a better friend. I didn't really intend to but that night I told her everything. But that's not true, not at all really. That night I told my good friend, Anne, my side of the story but I didn't know everything, not even close. I talked a mile a minute for what seemed like hours, just trying to organize my thoughts and master my ragged emotions. Anne listened carefully and spoke very little. I knew Ted wouldn't be thrilled that I was sharing our very private issues with Anne but I needed a friend. I needed to vent and try to sort it all out and Anne was my rock. She's the least judgmental person in the world and she has always understood how much I love him. I'd be wrecked without Ted and she has known that since high school.

............

Ted's car wasn't in the driveway so I wasn't surprised when the house was empty, just disappointed. I found his note and a sealed envelope on the bed. It was just one more detail to make me feel out of balance. Ted and I always left notes on the breakfast bar, sometimes on the mirror in the master bathroom, but never on the bed. The note was short.

................

Sarah,

You must know how much I love you. I said I'd explain

everything but saying it out loud feels impossible.

I wrote it all down, everything, because I need you

to read it without any chance to argue with me or

interrupt. I know it's not fair but you would just try to

talk me out believing the truth when the truth is exactly

what you deserve. You need to hear things that I can't

say out loud, not today anyway. That part scares me.

I hope we can talk about it but I don't know how we can

unless I am honest with myself and with you.

I hope with my whole heart that there is a way out of all

of this but hiding from you is not going to work anymore.

Please read the letter and try to understand why I couldn't

say it. I'll be a mess until I hear from you but you have to

promise to take all the all the time you need, please.

All my love, always,

T

...................

The envelope was heavy. Twelve pages were neatly folded and sealed inside. He must have been writing half the night. While I was spilling my guts to Anne, my husband was trying to explain everything to me the only way he thought he could. It seemed so sad to me... and beautiful.

I will hold most the letter in my heart and I won't try to translate it. It's a love letter like I never imagined I would receive, not even from my Ted. I keep it tucked away on the top shelf of my closet with my other treasures... the first notes he passed me in high school, the first gifts a high school kid gave his new girlfriend, prom pictures, our engagement announcement, a wedding invitation, wedding pictures, a room service menu from our honeymoon... and the twelve page letter that risked it all.

The honesty was almost brutal and was initially impossible to accept. Ted had suffered more than I had ever imagined because of the insecurities that arose from his penis size. He described how his beliefs about himself became his truth and his truth made him shy and afraid. Then he described a love so over-whelming that it over-powered all his feelings about himself for many years and led him to bury his fears and overcome what he knew was true. The most devastating thing he wrote was that, almost from the beginning, he believed he could not give me what I deserved, what other men could give. He was right about the letter because I would have argued if he'd ever saying that kind of shit out loud.

He told me how he could always sense the patience and encouragement I had shown over the years and that he knew it was love and not judgement but that it didn't help like it we both wished it would. He shared stories about the times friends joked randomly about cock size we both laughed and played along. Over the years, he had over-heard comments from my girlfriends and, to my shame, from myself. He wrote about how, early in our relationship, he readily agreed with me when I insisted all female orgasms were clitoral and that when I fingered myself while he was fucking me it was perfectly normal. He said he knew it was normal but he also knew that a normal sized cock stood a chance of involving the clit in the stimulation that was possible with vaginal penetration. He actually shared that he thought the bigger the cock was the higher the odds were. The punchline was that every time I had touched myself during sex Ted had felt inadequate. He admitted it was dumb but that didn't change how he felt.

Twelve pages of brutal honesty.

He admitted that he watched more on-line porn than was good for him or us. I didn't know he watching on-line porn at all but it made sense right away. I gone to bed so many times and left him in the living room with his laptop. He didn't carry on about the porn but it was very obvious that it didn't make him feel better about his penis size.

He said I deserved the truth and I deserved more. He carried on about how sexy he thought I was and how he secretly worried that he might lose me because of my natural needs and desires. Once again, he was brilliant to have written it in a letter because that little gem infuriated me and I felt like I could've slapped him into the next week... until I took few breaths and started to see his fears in the context of a lifetime of insecurity and love.

On page twelve he dropped the last bomb. Two months earlier he had been to a doctor and hadn't told me. He was diagnosed with idiopathic infertility. He was told he had a catastrophically low sperm count (his words) and further tests did not reveal an obvious cause.

I was crushed and there is no point in denying it. Ted and I decided, after a year of unprotected sex, that we would seek medical attention. I saw my doctor first and received a clean bill of health. I remember now that when I told him that I was as fertile as a bunny he looked more worried than happy. I thought he was having second thoughts being a father but I misread his concern. I can be so stupid at times. He said he would see a doctor now that I had been seen. I had spent the last three months afraid to ask him about it.

After I read Ted's letter for the fourth time I started to feel strong again. The truth was out and we could handle it. I was sure Ted and I could conquer the world as long as we were together . I called him and begged him to come home because I knew something he didn't know.

I knew I would never leave him... not in a million years.