The Thrill Is Gone 1

"The Thrill Is Gone" by BB King. What a great title (and song) for a Loving Wives story.

So I assumed it'd already been done. But when I looked through the site, found nothing with that name. Since there weren't any, decided to write one.

I didn't start off with any plot or story arc. So this went where it went.

In the first half, the husband tells the background story, and then the wife does. The purpose is to show their slightly different perspectives on the same events.

Then, in the second half, they take turns advancing the plot. With little or no repetition. Still with their differing POV's, though.

I enjoyed writing this. Hope you enjoy reading it.

***

CARL

The thrill is gone. The thrill is gone away.

I'm not sure how or when it went, but it's gone. And I'd never have believed that could ever happen.

Joan and I met in college. My major was engineering, hers was psychology. We are the same age, and lived in the same dorm during our sophomore year. That's how we came to know each other.

No, we didn't start talking, or anything like that. It was early in the fall, and the first dorm party. Beer, wine, smoke, the usual party fare. As the evening wore on, we found ourselves sitting next to each other. The music was loud, so instead of trying to talk, she gave me a sweet little smile. I smiled back, and it felt right to move in and kiss her lips. She responded by inserting her tongue into my mouth. I reciprocated, and after a few panting minutes, we got up and headed to my dorm room.

I wasn't the most experienced guy. During my freshman year, I had a couple of girlfriends. Each relationship lasted a month or two. At least I lost my virginity card, and got to learn something about what each girl liked. But this time seemed different.

For one thing, Joan was more attractive than either of those two from the year before. She wasn't a fox, or anything like that. But she did have a decent face, sharp features, but overall pleasant enough, at least for me. Her hair was kind of a dirty blonde, or a yellowy brown, something in between the two, I guess. Hazel-blue eyes, a modest but sharp nose, thin lips, but a nice smile.

Body-wise, she was built proportionately. Her tits weren't buxom, but neither was she flat. Just about right, in the normal range. Same with her weight. Not skinny, not fat. Nicely slender, with enough booty to have something to grab onto. Her thighs were slim, and though she wasn't super tall, she had enough leg to accommodate shorts or minis.

In other words, this was someone who not only could get my dick hard, but also someone I would feel good about walking around campus with. Which was in contrast to those freshman year babes, both of whom were chubby. The second one had a very pretty face, but the extra weight ruined the effect. The first was just big, and no shakes looks-wise, but at least she was interested enough in me to let me fuck her.

So she was my first, and I learned the basics. Like how to let her guide my tool into her sweet hole, and then how to do the insertion myself. My second was willing to tell me more about what she liked. That's when I learned something about oral, both giving and receiving. Getting blown was really something, and I found eating pussy to be not only erotic, but also very intimate.

Neither relationship progressed much beyond the FWB phase. They were more or less hookups that lasted for a while, instead of being one and done. Good experiences, but not anything close to a long-term boyfriend/girlfriend thing, and miles away from love.

In both situations, we just started drifting apart, seeing each other less often as the weeks went on. The first one ended when I saw her out with another guy, and decided that I just didn't care enough to call her on it. So I let the matter drop. As for number two, she seemed to be losing interest for the last couple of weeks, and finally told me that it just wasn't working anymore for her, and she felt it best that we break up and each find someone else. My first (and only) experience of being dumped. Well, it worked out just fine for her. She hooked up quickly after dropping me, while I kept striking out.

So having a chance with a normal-looking chick was pretty exciting, and as we approached my room, I sure hoped the mood would continue. When we got there, I quickly (and softly) shut and locked the door. My room-mate had gone home for the weekend to visit his parents, it was his mother's birthday. That was a lucky break for me, and I hoped to take advantage of it right here, right now.

I didn't push the light switch on, so it was semi-dark after the door closed. I moved in to start kissing again, and Joan didn't hesitate one bit. In fact, she put her hands around the back of my head and pulled me in closer. Then, at what seemed like the same time, each of our tongues entered the other's mouth.

When we were kissing at the party, I didn't notice specifics. But alone in my room, I was struck by the smell and taste of the sweat above her upper lip, as our tongues dueled and slipped into and out of mouths and licked around them. She had a definite odor, different from what I was used to from myself. But nevertheless it felt comfortable and familiar, even though this was our first time together.

We kept kissing, then I moved lower and started licking her chin, and then lower to her neck. This seemed to light a fire in her, and she reciprocated by moaning, while her upper body relaxed. She seemed just fine letting me take the lead, so I continued licking around her neck, both front and sides. I made another move, and started to gently unbutton her blouse. This would be a moment of truth, and she didn't resist. After the last button, I gently removed the garment, and found she hadn't been wearing a bra. I looked with awe at her naked breasts, and slowly let my tongue wander down from her neck.

At that point, Joan said "wait," and my heart sank. But for no reason. As it turns out, she simply wanted to remove my shirt so we would have on an equal amount of clothing. I quickly acquiesced, and while doing so she took the opportunity to aggressively inhale near my chest hairs. Fuck! That felt good. She flicked a few times at my nipples, which felt even better, and then disengaged, took my hand, and walked over to the beds. I guided us to the one that was mine, and we laid down together over the cover (both beds had been made; my roommate's because he was going to be away, mine because I'm fairly neat about such things). She was under me as we resumed making out.

After a few more minutes, we were both back to the panting and licking we'd been doing while standing up, and then I decided to try for a slide into second. This met with no resistance, so I began gently touching her upright nipples, and then lowered my mouth to taste her left one. I could feel her hips slightly rise as I began to suck on it, and if the taste of her upper lip sweat was a turn-on, that was nothing compared to this.

Gently sucking, I moved from left nipple to right nipple, softly caressing the other one, so neither would be lacking attention. Her moans grew louder, and she began moving left to right, up and down, as her excitement grew. I have to admit this made me feel like a conquering hero. Somehow it was more special to feel like I was pleasuring this woman, the most attractive I'd ever been in such a situation with.

I kept up the breast work for a while, not really counting the time, and then we more or less simultaneously made the move to remove the other's pants. That left us in our underwear and socks, and I quickly stood up to remove mine. She didn't do anything about her panties, presumably wanting me to make that final move. Which I did, and once again found myself gazing with awe at a lovely sight.

Joan didn't shave, though her full bush didn't seem to have a lot of tangled curls. This was different from my first girlfriend (her name was Rose, by the way), whose pussy area was natural and wild. The second one, Lesley, was more like Joan, although she clearly had shaved a bit because she had less than a full bush, just nicely-trimmed hair. "The better for you to eat me with, my dear" she joked more than once. But this wasn't exactly like that. Maybe Joan just trimmed the unruly hairs so that the presentation was full but not messy.

Having learned to eat pussy from Lesley, I could appreciate the look of a fine vagina. Joan's was simply beautiful, much more enticing than either of the others' had seemed to me. The smell of her arousal was growing, and I really thought about diving in. But Rose had never asked, and I wondered whether making that move would turn Joan on or off. So I hesitated, and then she pulled me closer and whispered, "please, come inside and make love to me." I didn't hesitate, and inserted myself slowly into her, with appropriate pauses so that she would be comfortable as I got further and further in.

It was heaven. Of course, this sensation was pretty much the same as it'd been with Rose and Lesley. But they say that the mind is the most important part of the body when it comes to sex, and the idea that I was inside of a normally-shaped pretty girl made the experience that much more exciting. Joan was very responsive, clearly having a wonderful time, moaning and then screaming, as her vaginal muscles gripped me tighter and tighter. After only a few minutes of this, she began to tremble, then convulse slightly, and her screams got louder. I had to assume this was the beginning of an orgasm, and as she came, I lost all control and felt my balls contract, my heart pounding, and the sperm just shot through my dick as I came either with, or shortly after, her.

As we cooled down, I could feel my dick shrinking and slipping out of her. But I didn't roll away or anything. My arms had been around her as we fucked, and I left them there and moved in to give her a soft kiss on the lips. Not knowing what to say, I said nothing. But when she kissed me back, and our tongues met once again, this time not frantically, just contentedly, I think we said all that needed to be said. And within a few minutes, we fell asleep, with me still holding her.

***

This was my third hookup, and like the other two, we continued. When we passed the one month mark, with no signs that either of us was tiring of the other, I found it amazing. So did she, and we laughed about it.

By this time, we'd gotten to know more about each other. In fact, we talked about things a lot more than had been the case with either Rose or Lesley. Maybe that's because I cared more this time around, since Joan checked girlfriend boxes for me that the others didn't. Sure, a lot of it was body type. I'm a guy, and that's how guys think. So sue me if you think that's shallow. And go fuck yourself while you do it, because I think it's just normal.

Anyway, we learned about our respective histories, and I don't think either of us held back anything important from the other. Joan and I both came from comfortable backgrounds. Her father was a lawyer, her mother a copy editor for the local paper. She was one of two children, having a brother who was three years older.

Her sexual experience before me was more limited than mine. She had surrendered her virginity on the night of her Senior Prom, and told me that she'd had second thoughts at the time. But her date insisted, telling her she had led him on too far and it wasn't fair to stop things now. From what she told me, it wasn't anything like date rape, but she found the experience unpleasant. He came in her quickly, she didn't feel much of anything, and that had put her off sex and men until we began kissing at the party. She had been thinking for a while that she should try getting back on the horse, I was in the right place at the right time, and because I wasn't super aggressive, she felt comfortable enough to go all the way.

Similarly, I told her about me. My sexual history, which I revealed in full to her, you already know. As for my family, my father is an accountant (a CPA) and my mother is an elementary school teacher. I am their only child. Mom experienced a difficult labor with me, and her doctor advised her that having any more pregnancies could be problematic. So she got her tubes tied, and they decided to be happy with just me.

My dad, whose name is Arthur (he goes by Art), has his own accounting practice, and makes good money at it. My mom, Esther, uses her middle name, Lynn, and teaches more for the love of teaching than any financial need to do so. My dad made more than enough to keep them in the nice house I grew up in, while still being able to amply fund college for me, and retirement for them.

By the way, while we're on the subject of names, Joan's dad is Vince, her mom is Angela, and her older brother is Dave.

As the months ticked by, and we both came to realize that this wasn't any short-term deal, we began to visit each other during school vacations at our respective parents' homes. My first Christmas with her family was a small revelation, since her family is a lot more religious than mine. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day services were as big a part of the holiday for them as the stockings and gifts. By contrast, my family is more about the fun, and for me and my dad, the football.

Our sexual repertoire grew. Neither of us brought a lot of game to the table, but at least I'd had enough exposure that I could introduce new things for us to try out. Oral was a big winner. She loved the control it gave her to bring me off that way, and she reveled in the admiration and love I expressed while eating her. We experimented with different positions. Doggy was an occasional break from face to face fucking, but the one real innovation was her on top. We didn't drop traditional missionary in favor of cowgirl, but it was a definite second-place choice. And a lot of fun learning how to read each other in order to decide which one it'd be.

As for the more out there stuff, we did try anal once, but it was so painful for her while I was trying to get in that I just stopped, telling her "forget it, Joan. Who needs this shit?" Which cracked her up, and we couldn't stop laughing for ten minutes—before settling into a soft missionary coupling. And as for domination, submission, and all the rest, we had no interest. Oh, and it should go without saying, though we did say it, that sex was for just the two of us, and absolute fidelity was an absolute must.

In terms of college academics, I really enjoyed my engineering classes. It was the perfect major for me. I guess I take after my dad, having a similar affinity for numbers and order. The difference between us is that he's more of an algebra guy, and I'm more geometry. Joan, however, found her major to be too full of experiments and studies, with very little actual exploration into how the mind works. She got through it, but decided to minor in education, as she was considering following my mom into teaching.

Meanwhile, by the time our junior year was over, it was clear we were going to go the distance. We began making wedding plans, and decided we'd get married the following June, right after graduation. That way we could get our own place after the honeymoon, and hopefully not have to keep sucking on the proverbial parental tit.

It worked out as planned, since I landed a job as a civil engineer with the city, specializing in new and refurbished projects such as road layout and construction. I wound up doing a lot of work redesigning difficult freeway onramps and off-ramps, most of which had been built years ago, when vehicle traffic was light. That is more or less the work I've been doing for the past ten years, and done well at.

Joan took a couple years after graduation to get her teaching credential, and then got hired as a substitute teacher at the local elementary school. Not the same one my mom taught at, since where we moved to after graduation was a midpoint between our respective family homes, about a half hour by freeway from each.

Our sex life hummed and thrived in the first years of our marriage, but we wanted to have children, and didn't want to wait too long before starting. So she threw away her pills in year three, and by the time we celebrated our fourth anniversary, she was six months along with our first, a son we named Sam. Two years later came our daughter, Aubrey, and then Joan decided to go back on the pill for a couple years before we thought about any more. We're about to celebrate our tenth, and so far haven't made plans to add to our family.

I guess it's pretty inevitable, and we're certainly not the first couple to go through this. But there is no way that the love and sex life of a couple can stay the same when children enter the picture. For one thing, they require a lot of time and attention, especially when they are little. Since Sam is now only 6, and Aubrey 4, we still have to do a lot of things for them. The other thing is that there are no longer two people in the relationship. There are four. And both Sam and Aubrey have just as distinctive personalities as Joan and I do. We love them to pieces, just as we love each other. But there's a lot less time for parental romance, what with the requirements of the kids, our respective work, meals and sleep.

Joan is still the woman for me, but I'd be lying if I said that the spark burns as bright as it did ten years ago. While we still talk, still communicate, it's mostly about practical things that need to be addressed. Yes, I'd have to say she's still my best friend, but we spend less of our available time re-connecting than we should. We both have same-sex friends from work that we each want to spend time with, as well as couples we get together with from time to time, mostly couples with children of similar ages to ours.

It's not that we don't like to be together. We do. But the fact that I used the word "like" is suggestive. Somewhere along the way, we've lost some of our connection, and I don't know how we can get it back. Sometimes I try, and feel that I get shut down. And I guess she's made some efforts, too, but usually it's at the wrong time for me.

Don't get me wrong. It's not like we fight or snipe at each other. Our home is a pleasant one. But somehow the passion I used to feel doesn't seem to be there anymore, or at least not as much of it.

The thrill is gone. It's gone away from me. Although we still live on, it feels lonely.

.

***

JOAN

The thrill is gone. The thrill is gone away.

I'm not sure where it went, but it's gone. I never would have thought that would ever happen. But it has.

Carl and I met in college. We met at a dorm party, near the start of our second year. We lived in the same dorm, and they had a dorm-wide party every month, I guess to build a feeling that we all belonged to something. Anyway, that's where we met.

I come from a pretty religious family. My father, Vince, may be a lawyer, but he's never been the type who shifts his arguments to fit a client's case. His integrity is not for sale, and he takes the truth pretty seriously. We went to church regularly, including for the big holidays (Easter and Christmas). My mother is named Angela, she doesn't go by Angie, and she is an editor for our hometown newspaper. Because she can do a lot of her work at home, she was always there for me, and my older brother Dave. Dave is now married, and they are expecting their first child. He didn't want to commit or get serious until he was past thirty, believing that no one knows their own mind yet when they're younger.

So that's them. Getting back to me, and my husband, I should tell you more about myself. I've always been interested in what makes people tick, and have always tried to understand how the other person feels. Some of that may be how I was brought up, but I think it's mostly just how I am.