The Best Four Words

After getting four orgasms using my fingers, I got another four orgasms out of my wife using my tongue, mouth and lips, the last one a shrieking, body shaking explosion. I then put my six inches of meat inside her and we did 20 more minutes before I came like a freight train.

She was panting like an exhausted sprinter and her eyes were glazed over as we came down from our sex high. She had an arm and a leg thrown over my body as we snuggled in our afterglow. I felt like King Kong until...

"Lincoln, we need to talk," she said quietly.

Now... the worst four words in the English language... right after some great sex?

"Linc, you know I didn't come from your dick. I never come from your dick," my wife of five years said as she lifted up off my chest and looked me straight in the eyes. "I love you to death, Linc, but your dick doesn't do it for me. It never has, and I don't want to be some 50-year-old woman who's wasted most of her life looking for an orgasm from intercourse."

To say I was shocked and crushed would be an understatement of major proportions. I had never gotten Traci off with my dick, but I didn't exactly leave her hanging. Between my hands, fingers, tongue, lips and mouth, I always gave her multiple orgasms, usually a half-dozen or more, and often left her limp as a noodle. I was at a loss as to what she was telling me.

"Lincoln, I love you dearly for so many things, but I want a divorce. I need to find someone who can rock my world with his dick, and I don't want to cheat on you to find him. I love you too much to cheat on you, so I think we just need to get divorced while we still love each other and there is plenty of time for each of us to find another partner."

I've had a couple of concussions before, and that's exactly what this felt like: I was hearing the words, but I couldn't process them. Well, actually, I didn't

want

to process them.

She said she loves me, but then drops a nuke on me about not being able to please her sexually. Wow. Imagine if she didn't love me. To say I was devastated wouldn't even come close to my mental state.

They say love and hate are opposite emotions. All I know is that I just went from loving Traci with all my heart to wanting to smash her face in with my fists right then and there. I figured it was best I get up out of the bed before I followed through on my thoughts.

I got out of the bed and was instantly dizzy upon standing up. Breathing became a problem.

"Lincoln, are you okay? You don't look very good," Traci said.

"No, I'm not okay, you bitch. I loved you more than life itself. I would have taken a bullet for you. Now I'm thinking about pushing you in front of a speeding train!" I responded.

"We've been married for five years, been together for seven, and now you hit me with this? You'd think you might have said something to me before if this was that important to you.

"I realize you never got off on my dick, but not every woman gets off on vaginal sex. I always made sure you got yours. I loved you. I thought love was more than just you getting off through intercourse. Shows how much I know."

"I know it hurts, Linc, but we promised to always be honest with each other," she said. "And I know that if I don't do this now, sooner or later I'm going to resent you and what we have. There's no sense in this going into the dumpster. Let's just end this like adults and we can stay friends."

"I'm not really sure we can stay friends anyway, Traci. You've just thrown away five years of marriage by telling me I can't please you enough sexually to stay married to me, even though you profess to love me."

"Linc, I know we never really discussed our past sexual lives before we got married, but I had a few men before you. I didn't get off from intercourse with all of them, but I did with a couple, so I know it's not me. The guys I got off with were noticeably bigger, though, so I think I need to go in that direction. It's not personal."

"Well, I certainly feel better now. Thanks for that," I said.

"In the interest of being completely open and honest, though, I'd like to state for the record that I, too, have had other partners before you, and while I can't claim to batting 1.000, I gave my fair share of orgasms through intercourse, unless I'm a complete idiot and every one of those orgasms were faked."

"Touché," Traci admitted, "but I'm sure this is the right thing for me."

"And there it is: the right thing for 'me,'" I said, using air quotes. "Not us, me. I always thought of our marriage as 'us.' To quote our British friends, I am obviously a silly 'wanker.'"

Traci and I met as juniors in college. She was somewhat of a party girl, pretty, with red hair down to the middle of her back and curves from top to bottom. I was kind of a geek, an actuarial science major. I spent much of my college years running numbers in insurance scenarios. We met at a dorm party when she put an elbow into my margarita while gesturing during a story she was telling to some of her friends. I was passing behind her when the aforementioned elbow dipped into my drink.

She stopped her story at that point, turned to me and we both stared at each other for a second before I took her arm and licked the margarita off her elbow. I don't know what possessed me to do that, but she squealed in delight as I did.

"Wow. What else can that tongue do?" she inquired cheekily.

Just as cheeky, I responded, "You can find out this Friday night if you'll go out with me."

Traci agreed, and that Friday night I licked and ate her to a half-dozen orgasms before we had intercourse twice. She seemed to really enjoy my efforts, then, and for the next seven years, as well, until...

After all was said and done, I suppose I should be grateful that Traci at least didn't cheat on me, although she might as well have cut my nuts off with the message she gave me.

The divorce was relatively easy, as we lived in a no-fault state and everything was a 50-50 split. Traci repeatedly apologized to me for telling me I didn't please her sexually. Every time she did, she might as well have been plunging a knife into my battered ego. It only took six months for the divorce to go through, but by the time it was done, I wanted nothing to do with women.

"I still think you're a great guy, Linc, and I'll always love you somewhat. I guess it just wasn't meant to be," Traci said at the divorce signing.

What I heard was, "You were a useful schmuck who couldn't please me because I'm a selfish bitch. See ya."

I'll admit to spending my first weekend as a divorced guy in an alcohol-induced haze. God bless Glenmorangie 12-year-old Scotch. After that weekend, however, I was back to being my steady, boring, actuarial self. I learned how to do all the domestic chores that Traci had done when we were married, and I even wondered smugly how she would cope having to do the chores that were my domain, like little fix-it projects and changing light bulbs and batteries.

I didn't keep track of Traci, although some of our former friends apparently felt I needed to and kept me informed of her activities when we ran into each other. Apparently, she hit the ground running, going out on dates virtually every weekend after the divorce was finalized, I was told.

I still wasn't dating a year later when I ran into Traci and I guess her newest boyfriend at a Pizza Hut. I was going in for lunch and Traci and the guy were seated at a four-person table. She saw me walk in the door and before I could react, she was on me, taking my arm and guiding me to their table. I was completely weirded out and I know her boyfriend, Evan, looked uncomfortable. I don't think it even dawned on Traci that either of us wasn't totally happy. She was a total chatterbox about how happy the two of them were together, but at least she had the sense not to tell me how big his dick was. I already assumed it was bigger than mine based on what she had said was her reason for leaving me.

She seemed genuinely distressed when she asked if I was dating and I answered negatively.

"No, Linc. Don't say that. You're a wonderful guy. I know there's a great woman out there waiting for you," she said.

"I had a great woman," I replied in little more than a whisper. "She just had a particular requirement that I couldn't live up to."

Traci blushed and her boyfriend smirked. Humiliation, thy name is Lincoln.

I actually started dating a few months after that, but I didn't date the same woman twice in a row for another year. Her name was Lucy Nguyen, a petite 25-year-old Chinese-American with long jet-black hair down to her waist and the smaller features of a gymnast: muscular legs, butt and small boobs.

Lucy also had the enthusiasm of a five-year-old turned loose at the zoo, and I found my time with her to be incredibly uplifting. We became exclusive after just two dates and had sex for the first time on our fifth. Lucy was quite a bit smaller than Traci and I was afraid I might be too rough for her, but her athletic body more than offset her lack of physical size.

On our first time together, we started in 69, and four screaming orgasms later she almost literally tapped out.

"Linc, Linc, please stop. I need you inside me now, right now!" she hissed.

I can take a hint with the best of them. I crawled up the bed, rubbed my saliva-coated cock against Lucy's opening twice, then slowly started to insert myself. Damn, that woman was tight! I could tell she wasn't a virgin, but she was almost ridiculously tight. I had to be extremely careful because I didn't want to hurt her. It took me almost five minutes to get completely inside her, and a minute later she had a fifth orgasm. Five minutes later she stiffened, screamed and then started yelling unintelligible words as her body quaked in the biggest orgasm I have ever given a woman.

Even in my greatest sexual triumph ever, I had a thought about Traci: too bad, bitch!

Lucy gave me my mojo back in a big way. She had this adventurous streak, too, and I'm not too proud to say that we came very close to winding up in jail for being overexposed three or four times over the next year.

And then I went and ruined everything.

Lucy moved in with me after about six months of dating. I thought I had the world by the ass. She was fun, funny, exciting and beautiful. I knew... I absolutely knew that she was the one with whom I was going to grow old.

She took me home to meet her family at Thanksgiving, and I proposed right after the table prayer. She cried, her mother cried, her grandmother cried, her sister cried and her father threatened my life. Oh, yeah, she accepted.

The wedding was to be in Lucy's hometown. I hadn't met the woman who was going to be Lucy's maid of honor until three days before the wedding. She pulled up in a brand new Porsche Taycan and practically jumped out before she came to a complete stop, her long flame-red hair flying behind her. I know my mouth dropped open as she and Lucy jumped into each other's arms. The woman was absolutely stunning: flawless alabaster skin, I guessed at 36DD boobs, narrow waist, an ass to die for and long legs. I hoped that Lucy was too wrapped up in greeting her friend that she didn't see me practically drool down my shirt.

I took a minute to get a grip on myself, then went to meet Barbie McMillan. Fortunately for me, she didn't greet me the same way she greeted Lucy, because I'm not sure I wouldn't have embarrassed myself physically. Lucy didn't seem to notice that I was suddenly blushing profusely and sweating.

Fortunately for me, my best man and two groomsmen were also mesmerized by Barbie's beauty, so I wasn't the only one acting like a tongue-tied dork. The women noticed immediately, and for the next two days we were the targets of a lot of good-natured ribbing. Because of that, however, I was off my game, and I guess I didn't see what was happening in front of me for most of the first day and a half. For two days Lucy and Barbie were practically joined at the hip as my fiancée spent almost all of her time with Barbie, and practically none with me. What brought that to my attention was when at one point during the hanging around at Lucy's parents house, I went to say something to Lucy and noticed she wasn't around. Then I noticed that Barbie wasn't around either.

I subtly went looking for Lucy under the guise of going to the fridge for another beer. I didn't find her on the first floor, but I did hear some noise coming from the second floor, where Lucy's bedroom was. I really didn't think anything of it as I climbed the stairs, until I heard the distinct sound of Lucy's pre-orgasm moan. I was about to knock on her closed door when I heard that sound, and I just froze in my tracks. A minute later I heard Lucy's muffled screams of orgasm. I assumed she must have been biting a pillow because she'd never come that quietly for me.

I felt gut-punched. I sunk down to the top two steps and sat down.

I listened to another orgasm and then a lot of giggling as I assumed Lucy and Barbie were getting dressed. I was watching the door as they came out, smiles on both of their faces... until they spotted me at the top of the stairs.

"Um, uh, I," stuttered Lucy.

Barbie just blushed.

"I know. It wasn't what I think it was," I said sarcastically.

Neither responded, although Lucy tried, but just wound up looking like a fish out of water sucking air.

I got up and headed downstairs.

"Party's over!" I said to my guys as I headed through the front door.

"Wait! What's going on? Lucy?" yelled Lucy's mom from across the room.

I just kept going, got in my car with my friends and drove to the hotel at which we were staying. I explained to my buddies what I had heard and that the wedding was obviously off.

My phone buzzed repeatedly with texts and calls that I ignored. Most were from Lucy. A few were from her parents.

"Damn, bro. Barbie's that fucking hot, and she plays for the visiting team?" said Vince, my best man, while shaking his head in disbelief. "I didn't see that coming."

"I didn't see Lucy playing for both teams," I replied quietly. "But it makes no difference whose team she is playing for if it isn't my team."

The guys and I cleared our stuff out of the rooms and drove home.

Lucy and Barbie showed up at the apartment the next day, which was originally scheduled to be our wedding day.

"We need to talk, Lincoln," Lucy said, like I had never heard

that

before.

"We didn't plan for this to happen, Linc, believe me, and Mom and Dad are pissed as hell. They're pissed at Barbie and me and they're pissed at you for just leaving without trying to work things out," Lucy said.

"Work things out!" I shouted, losing my cool. "You don't actually think that's happening, do you?"

"W-e-l-l," Lucy said, dragging the word out. "It's not like there's a lot of... overlap there. Can't we work something out? I love you both. I want you both."

Both women looked at me with puppy dog eyes.

"Linc, I don't know anyone who wouldn't want to share Barbie. That's what we're talking about here. You. Me. Her. You can't tell me you would turn down a chance to fuck Barbie. I saw the way you looked at her at my house."

"Lucy, Barbie is the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and if I didn't already have a woman, I would never pass that up," I confessed. "But I have a woman I love, and I would never cheat on that woman. And at the same time, I don't share my toys... with anyone."

"But Linc..." she started to whine.

"You cheated on me, Lucy. I don't care if it was with another man or a woman. Cheating is cheating. You broke my trust, and gave your body and your soul to another person. You two were practically rubbing my face in your actions for two days, before the sex. Just because Barbie doesn't have a penis..."

"It's not the same, Linc, really."

"It's exactly the same, Lucy, even though you don't want to admit it. The only difference is I'm too much of a gentleman to pop Barbie right in the mouth.

"Now you need to get your shit out of my apartment."

I called Lucy's father over my lunch hour on Monday. He was pissed at me until I gave him the whole story, something his daughter neglected to do, he told me. He told me he completely understood my side of the argument and didn't know his daughter was bisexual. He wound up apologizing to me.

I spent the week working instead of honeymooning in Hawaii. I think that was the only thing that kept me sane. So far, my track record wasn't very good. Losing one woman because I couldn't satisfy her, losing a second to another woman.

Fuck it! After that I just decided to be a male whore for a while; just fucking, no emotional attachment. As long as the woman wasn't a total bitch, I was taking her out and, if possible, fucking her senseless. All colors, all ages, all shapes. In the next three years, I probably had 50 or 60 partners. With apologies to the Dan Aykroyd character on Saturday Night Live, I truly was a male slut.

All good things come to an end, though, and I finally got the urge to find someone with whom to settle down. I was thinking of someone approximately my age, 35, or younger, but as I knew so well, life can be unpredictable. I wound up dating a woman I assumed to be a couple of years older than I was, and after about a half-dozen dates we made it exclusive.

I knew she had two children, but when I found out they were 24 and 21, I realized I had pegged her age very wrongly.

"I'm 48, Linc, is that a problem?" she asked when she saw my reaction at the ages of her kids.

"N-n-no," I stammered. "But I wouldn't have guessed you were even 40. My congrats to your parents on your good genes."

"Well I will take some of that credit, thank you," she said. "Three days a week of yoga and an expensive moisturizer."

Melinda was a big-breasted blonde who also dressed younger than her years. She could rock any tight outfit, and there were times when it was tough for me to keep my hard-on from being too obvious.

She was an attorney, and her previous husband was jettisoned 10 years ago for being a serial cheater. I told her my story, and we both agreed on the sanctity of being true to our partners.

Obviously, Melinda wasn't a virgin when we started to date, but she was relatively inexperienced in her sex life. I would have assumed that with her 38DD boobs, any man would have done the obvious and tit-fucked her, but I happily found out I was her first. I also found out she was not very familiar with receiving oral sex, and our first time together was an experience I don't think either of us will ever forget.

I have always been a huge fan of the taste of pussy, and if the time is sufficient, I will always go down on a woman. I also find that the more I charge up a woman, the more exciting it is for me, as well. So, on our first night in bed, we started off kissing, then I slowly started kissing my way down her body. I stopped for a few minutes to suck on her luscious nipples, then licked and kissed my way down to her pussy. She was getting more aroused by the second, and I was following suit.

She was actually vibrating when I got to her pussy, and my first lick over her opening caused her to literally scream in exultation, levitate off the bed and wrap her thighs around my head, effectively cutting off my air supply for about 30 seconds until she stopped spasming. I pried open her legs to get breathing room, then I resumed my ministrations. She just kept screaming and spasming for the next half-hour before I sensed that she was losing steam. I slid my way up, lined up my rock-hard prick with her opening and then slid inside in three tries. She gasped as I entered and then grunted heartily with every stroke. Five minutes later she had a final orgasm, then appeared to pass out for several seconds. When she reappeared in the land of the conscious, her eyes were glazed over and she had a huge smile on her lips.