Sportswife without sex
Reigniting my sex life
I met Perry in high school, passing in the halls, but I didn't really get to know him until my folks put me in Junior Achievement. We wound up in the same group, where we had to try to make a business on a shoestring. Oddly enough, we clicked, and he asked me out on a date. By the time we graduated, we were going steady.
We both decided to go to the community college in Charleston, West Virginia, as it was nearby. Perry was interested in sales, and swung a deal with a big manufacturer to become a salesman and they would pay his tuition. He worked part time for them, and would get a business degree. When he chose to fill out his non-degree classes, he chose classes to help him in his future job, like accounting and English composition.
On the other hand, my grades, and some grant proposals, got me a scholarship. Unlike Perry, I didn't really need a job, but I got an internship at the local museum. I chose to take some fun classes, like hypnotism. Oh, it wasn't called that, but I read the syllabus, and learned the course taught it, and that the subsequent courses would advance that training.
Near the end of our first year, he asked me to marry him. I had already caught wind of his desire when the local gossips spoke about his looking for a ring. They were in the restroom when they talked about it, and though they checked to see I wasn't about, they forgot to check the farthest stall. When I heard them talking about looking for me, I lifted my feet and went quiet. It worked, and I got all the details. After they left, I waited a few extra minutes before I exited the stall.
We immediately wanted a summer wedding, but had too many people to invite, to have it that summer. Planning for the next summer, however, meant we could have it fully planned, without much stress. I was daddy's little girl, and he wanted to send me off in style, so I got a really nice wedding dress, and we could have a big wedding.
My bridesmaids were friends from high school, college, and the museum. My best friend was the maid of honor. She and I met in elementary school, and even though her family moved, we kept in touch, and saw each other from time to time. Perry's groomsmen were from work, as was the best man. They all had the habit of watching Monday Night Football at a local bar. He had the better apartment, so we made that our married home while at college. At times, we would go to a party on campus somewhere, and he always encouraged me to wear something sexy.
After we graduated, he transitioned to full time with the plant, and would make assorted business trips, especially during the summer. While he traveled year round, the sales department chose to have status meetings every Monday. This meant that his friends would all be in town to watch the game together. We wanted to move to a small suburban duplex when we left our apartment. We wanted to have some kids, and figured we could grow our home as we grew our family. But one of the gag gifts we got for our wedding was a handful of lottery tickets from 'the boys'.
Well, on our honeymoon, we learned we hit the jackpot. Only a few million, but we went for the annuity, and parlayed that into paying for a large home with a large yard. That still left a lot to go around, so we had a little go to savings, and the rest went into retirement accounts. Had we wanted, neither of us would ever have to work again, if we were wise, but we both agreed that he should stay with the company, and I should continue to work for the museum. We would change the distribution once we had kids, to pay for daycare.
To that end, we fucked like rabbits on our honeymoon, but once the chaos of settling in the new home settled down, we wound up only having sex two or three times a week. It took months for me to notice, but it seemed when we went out for whatever reason, if I dressed sexy, or if other guys made improper comments about me, we usually had sex. I did my best to ignore the comments, as I really liked the sex.
About a year later, the bad news came. We had wondered why our doctor had called us both into his office, but what he had to say needed privacy.
"Janet, Perry, I regret I have bad news for you."
I asked, "What is it, doctor?"
"That last set of tests we did? Well, they confirmed our diagnosis. You two cannot have kids."
Perry said, "What!"
"As I said, no kids."
"Why, doctor?"
"Perry, you two are incompatible with each other."
Perry slumped when he heard that.
I said, "Hon, there are other options. Surely, there is something we can do. Maybe find a way to have in vitro fertilization or something."
"No. It's not the same." Then looking at the doctor, "Is there some way to make us compatible?"
"Your sperm count is very low, and while we might be able to treat that, your sperm has a second problem. You have poor swimmers."
"That's not possible. I have over a dozen nieces and nephews. I'm one of four children. My whole family is very fertile."
"Your family may be, but you are not. We knew of your family, that's why we tested your DNA. Your DNA is damaged. Our best guess, per your medical file, is that this happened when you got sick with that exotic virus as a child. We can't be sure it's the source, but it's known to cause genetic damage."
"So any child I might have would also have this problem?"
"Yes."
It was clear Perry didn't listen after that. The doctor suggested we see a counselor, but he just pushed away the documents the doc tried to give him. Shortly, he stood up, and said we should go. So I got up, and told Perry to warm up the car, while I took care of the paperwork for the visit. Seeing that, he left.
"Doc, can I have those documents about therapy? He may not want it now, but later..."
"Sure thing, Janet." He gathered them, and handed them to me. I folded them, and hid them in my purse. Then I did handle the paperwork, which was basically a summary of our results from the last round of tests, and the final bill. I paid with a credit card, and then joined Perry.
When we got back home, Perry was silent. He got out of the car and went inside. I followed, but when I saw him grab a six-pack from the fridge, I knew he wanted to be alone. So I headed to the patio.
An hour later, I looked to see where he was, and I heard sounds in the nursery. The door wasn't quite closed, so I looked in. I saw him on the floor, with the crib partially disassembled, and I realized the sound was him crying. I quietly went back to the kitchen, made dinner, and assembled a tray with a pair of greasy burgers with all the fixings, just as he liked. The second plate had my burger. I also had three bottles of water, as I figured he would need water after the six-pack.
When I got back to the door, I carefully knocked before entering. He looked up, red-eyed, and sniffled, trying to cover it up.
I just said, "I brought you dinner."
I then put the tray down on the floor and sat next to him. When he didn't do anything, I reached for his hand, and placed one of his burgers in it.
"You need to eat, whatever happens. So eat."
I then reached for my burger, and took a small bite out of it, while looking him in the eye. Then I nodded to him. He looked down at the burger he was holding and brought it to his mouth. Once started, his hunger took over, and he ate it. Soon, he was eating the second, and I had opened bottles for each of us. Finally, the food was gone.
"Go head to the bathroom. I am sure your tank needs to be emptied. I'll take care of the dishes."
He nodded, got up, and left the room, and shortly, I could hear him. He must have forgotten to close the door. I just gathered the dishes, bottles, and beer cans. I put the unopened beers back in the fridge, put the dishes on the counter for tomorrow, and took the water back upstairs. I couldn't believe he was still draining the lizard. So I waited for him to come out.
When he did, I said, "Come. Enough for today. Let's go to bed."
He seemed to comply, until I started to take his clothes off.
"Huh? It's still light."
"It may be light out, but we are both exhausted by the news. I want you to hold me, and we can just go to sleep."
"Oh. Okay."
He seemed to be on autopilot, and was down to his boxers, when he went under the covers. I placed my water bottle on my nightstand, and I put his, and the unopened one, on his nightstand. Then I undressed, and decided to not put on my nightie, and instead just wear my panties to bed. I got in, and slid over to him, and had him spoon with me, with him on the outside, with his arms about me.
"I want your arms about me, I want to feel your warm body next to mine. We still have each other." I then pulled one of his hands to my lips, and kissed it, before placing it on my stomach, with my own hands on it.
Then I got quiet, and tried to fake sleep, so he would fall asleep also. It took almost twenty minutes, and I lay there for him. When I heard him whimper in his sleep, I pulled his hand up again, and kissed it, saying, "We have each other, I love you." That seemed to help him. It was near midnight when I finally fell asleep.
In the morning, I woke to the bed moving. I turned my head, and opened my eyes. I saw Perry dressing. He turned and saw I was awake.
"Thank you, Janet. You're good for me. I don't know how I would have gotten to sleep last night, if you had not been here."
"Always, my love. I am here for you."
Perry seemed to function okay, but I got a call from his boss. I told him we had difficult news, and it hit Perry hard. I asked him to let him work through it, as he will make it up later. We spoke about therapy, and I said I was on it.
I actually was, but not just for him. I, too, was suffering, but I was not as attached to having kids as he was. Also, it was not my DNA that was broken. But I wasn't ever going to tell him that.
At the museum, during my breaks, I read through all the documents the doctor had given us, and I came to see my need for therapy. Not just for the loss of our future children, but for the loss of Perry, as he was dealing with things. I took time off work to see a therapist, and we talked through my things, but also we talked about how to get Perry help.
After a month of trying to talk him into coming with me, and failing, I asked the therapist, "Hey doc, would it be acceptable to use hypnotism to get him here?"
"That wouldn't be advisable. Getting him to see a hypnotist would just set the problems deeper."
"Maybe not. You see, while I majored in business, I have a minor in psych, and I know how to hypnotize. I'm sure he knew at the time, but I am sure he has forgotten. At the end of the day, when we go to bed, I think I could put him under."
