Once I had filled my cupped hand with cum, I cleaned up in the bathroom and climbed back into bed. I went back to sleep, but she was too stirred up to relax, so she just tossed and turned. Of course she could have masturbated herself to orgasm with her fingers. I knew she occasionally did so, but she was too shy to do it in front of me. We both knew she would take care of herself after I left for work, but that meant she had to be miserable for several hours. Well, that was the idea, wasn't it?
Jeannie didn't break. Two weeks later I was getting tired of beating off, and I wondered what else I could try. Then I walked into our bathroom and saw a realistic, vibrating dildo where she had left it to dry. Clearly she had found another way to get relief. And I felt twinges of inadequacy because the dildo was longer and thicker than my organ was. She had retaliated.
Jeannie wouldn't fuck herself with the dildo while I was watching, but each night when I'd beat off after getting her aroused, she would lock herself in the bathroom and use the dildo. It apparently worked because within a couple of minutes I'd hear her cry out several times as she came. When she got back to bed, she would quickly fall asleep, so she had obviously relieved her sexual tensions. My nighttime sex game with her had failed, so after about a week of listening to her get off with the dildo, I gave up. I stopped turning her on as she slept. I was backing down, and I hoped she would recognize my concession and do the same. That hope was quickly dashed.
Jeannie perversely continued to use the dildo - both at night when I could hear her in the bathroom and also during the day when I was away. I got the message, loud and clear. She didn't need me for anything, including sex. A big plastic penis was taking care of her needs very well. Since I'd stopped my stimulation game, she didn't even need me for foreplay.
Beating off just wasn't satisfying me, and knowing Jeannie was getting off on a plastic penis made me feel worse. She had clearly escalated the conflict to a higher level, and she was winning. I couldn't think of any way to regain the upper hand. I was considering begging her for forgiveness, even though I still didn't know what I'd done wrong - or even if anything that had happened was really my fault. Nothing but pride kept me from doing what I should have done. If I had yielded to her, I know that what happened next would never have happened.
I thought I wouldn't have to kiss up to her when she didn't use the dildo for two nights. She was really moody, and she couldn't look me in the eye. That first night she also had a splitting headache, and her breath smelled strange, almost like something from the chemistry set I'd played with as a child. After another night without using the dildo, I hoped that she was going to give in to me. But then she began using it again. During the night I could hear her fucking herself with it in the bathroom, but not the same way as before. Now she seemed almost frantic, even desperate, to climax. I knew that something had happened to her, but I never suspected that she might have been unfaithful. That simply wasn't possible!
About two weeks later I was only a couple of days away from admitting defeat and giving in when things changed with shocking suddenness. Jeannie came home late for dinner, complained that she didn't feel well, and went directly to bed. I could see her legs trembling, and she had trouble walking. During the night I heard her whimpering, and I tried to comfort her. When I put my arms around her, she pushed me away and ran into the bathroom. I thought she was going to use the dildo, but she didn't. A few minutes later she came back to bed. She continued to whimper for the rest of the night. Neither of us got any sleep. If something upsetting had happened to her two weeks earlier, what in the world had just happened?
Jeannie never used the dildo again, and that really caught me off-guard. She wrapped it up and hid it in a box in her closet. I snooped and found it, and I frequently checked to be certain she hadn't used it again. It remained hidden in her closet. I assumed she had stopped using it because she had incorrectly decided that fucking herself with the dildo wasn't going to get me to surrender. Or perhaps it really wasn't all that satisfying after all. I thought her bouts of crying every couple of weeks reflected the deteriorating condition of our marriage. I even wondered if she had found out she had cancer or something.
In retrospect it's obvious that I should have known what was going on. But the abrupt loss of affection in our marriage six month earlier had affected my judgement, and I couldn't manage to figure out the puzzle that our lives had become. I kept trying to fit the pieces together in a way that meant everything between us would be the way it had been before. Yes, that was really dumb.
I returned to masturbation as my only sexual release. I really missed the overpoweringly erotic sensations in my penis as Jeannie's vagina squeezed and trembled during her climaxes. Since we had become parents, I almost always had to cover her mouth to suppress her loud screams as orgasms rippled violently through her body. What man wouldn't miss hearing his wife scream because of the sexual excitement he had helped her to achieve? I missed it a lot, and beating off just didn't do much for me at all.
Finally, when a clear pattern emerged, I became suspicious. At two-week intervals, Jeannie had been going out and coming back very late. This had happened at least a dozen times. She was always upset she returned, and she would never tell me where she had gone. Often she was really miserable, and a couple of times I heard her crying. I hoped that she had just been getting away from me so that she could think things out, but I was starting to worry that she was having an affair. Doing so would have been completely out of character for her, but I began to wonder what she was doing every two weeks. But why would having an affair make her so unhappy? And if it did, why was she still doing it?
I stubbornly didn't bring that issue up, and I deliberately avoided looking for any evidence that Jeannie was having sex with someone else. Call me a fool. As suspicious as I was that she might be going out to get laid, I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to control myself if I actually found out that she was cheating on me. I also assumed that we would eventually work out our problem - whatever it was - and if she had been unfaithful and I didn't know about it, then I wouldn't have to deal with it. And what would happen to our two little girls if we broke up? I kept my head in the sand and my hands on my penis. Neither helped.
We scarcely talked to each other, except when our girls were around. We continued our silent argument even though I don't think either of us could remember what it was about. Even more than our regular, exciting sex. I missed having Jeannie as a friend and companion. Being at home around Jeannie was a cold and depressing experience, and for the first time I looked forward to leaving the house and going to my demanding job. I even agreed to extra out-of-town business travel so that I wouldn't have to face the frigid atmosphere at home.
A CHANCE TO SAVE OUR MARRIAGE
When our problem continued to drag on and on, it's not surprising that I seized an opportunity to repair our friendship and our marriage. I had completed some important out-of-town business several days earlier than anyone could have anticipated, and I decided to surprise Jeannie by arriving home unannounced early one Saturday evening, rather than on the following Monday morning as had been scheduled. I decided that I would hire a babysitter and take Jeannie dancing. My plan was for us to talk out our problem while enjoying the romantic atmosphere at one of the clubs we hadn't visited since our disagreement began.
I got hard just thinking about making love to her again. I was so happy anticipating our romantic evening - and the end to our problems - that I actually whistled as I drove. I should have known better. Who hasn't heard the stories about the husband arriving home and finding his wife in bed with another man? I was confident that Jeannie couldn't do that - to me, or to our marriage. Well, I tried to be confident. At least I was thinking positively. This evening alone together would enable us to repair our marriage. Of course it would. Sure.
