Wedding Vow Sabbatical

A bunch of us guys would eat lunch together in the cafeteria at work. Usually we would bring something from home or a microwave meal. One day a week, we would have something catered in from a fast food place. We learned long ago to avoid political topics. Mostly we talked about sports, college and pro, and, of course, sex.

Usually discussions of sex with wives was not allowed unless it was sex with someone else's wife, other than one of ours obviously. The younger single guys often claimed that married women were easier to pick up than single women. Married women were most often just interested in a little sex with no commitments. The older married guys remarked that they were surprised on how often they were hit on when they just went out to drink and maybe dance a little. Of course, they would use that as an example of how screwed up the country is compared to when they were young. I was usually quiet. I didn't have any stories, good or bad.

I am Mitchell Daniels, 35 years old, average height and slightly above target weight. I'll admit I was seldom called handsome (mothers and aunts don't count), but I didn't have too much trouble getting a girl to go on a date with me in high school or college. My problem in getting laid was that I was afraid to push the issue when getting amorous with a girl. Even though her body would be telling my body 'go for it,' I would hesitate. If she said something like, "I don't know if we should," I would give up. I think I gave several girls whatever is the women's equivalence of 'blue balls.' They certainly did that to me. As a result, my wife was only the third girl I had sex with (if you don't count the times I got blowjobs only) and she had to practically rape me before I caught on it was okay to have sex with her.

My wife is Olivia Daniels, 34, a couple of inches taller than me, thin and sleek. Although she is attractive overall, to me, her outstanding feature is her long, shiny, raven black hair. She is a school teacher and mother to our two kids, 8 and 11. We have had a good marriage, we are financially stable, and we seldom disagree. I would say we have had a great sex life. Our frequency of sex did not change much except when she was pregnant. Periodically we would try something new sexually or go to somewhere we had not been before to have sex. So, what went wrong?

In my mind, my buddies and the entertainment industry were telling me that I was missing out if I was only getting traditional marital sex. Threesomes, swapping and open marriages were the next phase on the marital evolutionary scale, according to them. I felt like I had been left behind. After weeks of feeling sorry for myself, I was stupid enough to mention it to my wife.

"Livy, do you ever feel like our sex life is lacking something?"

Olivia has this look. I'm sure her students have seen it often. It's like 'Boy, did you just step in some deep doo-doo.' That was the look I got.

"No, I've never felt like anything was lacking with my sex life or any other part of our life together. Obviously, you have thought I am lacking. I know you, Mitchell Daniels. You don't do anything without overthinking it. You wouldn't say anything unless it was really bothering you."

It was time to put up the sand bags to prevent the flood of hurt I was about to receive. "No, dear. Sex with you is and always has been wonderful. I was thinking about how you and I were fairly inexperienced sexually when we got married. I was just wondering if you ever felt you might be missing out on something. Something another man might be able to give you."

"Oh, you're only thinking of me. How nice. Don't push this off on me. You're the one bringing this up. What you're really trying to tell me you want to have sex with other women. Maybe you're telling me you have already had sex with another woman."

"Oh no, sweetheart. I swear that I have been faithful our whole marriage. And there is no one I have in mind that I want to have sex with other than you. I was just afraid you might be getting bored with me and wanted some more excitement for yourself."

"Let me guess. The boys at work have you convinced that getting a 'piece of strange,' as my students call it, is not only easy but normal for a man with a normal load of testosterone. I tell you what. You go have sex with your pals. That would add some excitement to your sex life. I think what you really want is my permission to mess around and then be able to return home in case things don't work out. No harm no foul."

"Livy, I'm sorry I brought this up. I just want to make sure our marriage stays fresh and as beautiful has it has been so far. This is something that could be helpful to both of us. You would be able to try new things too, so it would be fair to both of us. I wouldn't think of doing anything that didn't have your full support."

"My full support, heh? Give me a few days to think about it."

"I'm sorry if I have upset you. I didn't mean to."

"Oh, I'm not upset."

I knew that if she wasn't upset, she was probably feeling something more potentially harmful to me. I was praying she would forget about the whole thing. No such luck.

A few nights later, Olivia asked to talk. Basically, she handed me a document labeled: 'MITCHELL DAVIS' SABBATICAL FROM HIS WEDDING VOWS.' It read as follows:

This document gives Mitchell Davis permission to waive the 'forsaking all others' clause from his wedding vow to Olivia Davis for one year under the following conditions:

1.All meetings with women other than his wife are to occur outside the house he occupies with his wife and children.

2.He is to have his meetings with other women on Friday nights. He may have a 48-hour weekend meeting with one week notice and there may not be more than one weekend meeting every three months.

3.He may continue to have sex with his wife, but he must use condoms. Upon the end of this agreement, he must show a clean STD test result before having bareback sex with his wife.

4.On Friday nights, he must sleep in the guest bedroom even if he has not had sexual relations that night.

5.THIS IS ABSOLUTE: Mitchell must not mention anything about his social activities outside the house to anyone and especially his wife and children. That means he cannot brag or complain to his friends about his exploits, successful or not. In accordance with this agreement, his wife has no right to know what he does, and she does not want to know what he does those nights. A violation of this clause will result in no sex with his wife for an indefinite period.

6.His wife will remain faithful during the period of this agreement and uphold her wifely and motherly duties as usual.

I was speechless. Olivia wasn't.

"Mitch, if you really have to get this 'urge' out of your system, this is it. I hope this proves I have faith in our marriage. This is your one-time 'hall pass.' I don't do it lightly. After I thought about what you said, I felt I couldn't go on wondering if you were plotting to have an affair behind my back. This way, you can try out other women without penalty. If you find someone else you would rather have, then we won't need to waste any more years as a married couple. If you find I really am the one, and only one, that you want to spend your life with . . . Well that's my hope. The agreement starts tonight."

Olivia went upstairs. I had to have a drink. Part of me was happy because I now had permission to test the waters. Without trying to hide it. Part of me was worried. Would she really hold this against me or not? Olivia had always been a straight shooter. I believed she would uphold her end of the agreement.

When I went upstairs, I wondered what reception I would get. She was still awake. Her expression seemed to show she was not angry. She actually seemed to be relieved I had come to bed. "I was serious about us still having sex. I seem to be horny tonight. Are you interested?"

"You don't have to ask twice."

We made love through two orgasms each. It was as good a bout of sex as we had had in a long time. I felt good even though I suspected she was trying to get me to see what I would be missing out on when Fridays came around.

I was busting to tell the guys at work at what had happened at home but remembered the consequences. Instead I informed the crew that my wife had agreed that I could join them at their Friday boys' night out. They were a little shocked but said "Great. See you at Sally's at 7:00. Newbees have to buy the first round."

I was excited that first Friday. I wore some sharp casual clothes and made sure I had on shoes that would allow me to glide on a dance floor. When I tried to tell Olivia I was leaving, she said, "I don't have the right to know. I don't want to know."

I met the boys at Sally's. We had drinks and talked. Around 8:00 the band started playing, which made talking almost impossible. I mostly watched other people dance. I didn't recognize the type of dances they were doing. Finally, they had a slow dance. I saw a woman I had known from working on a political campaign. I felt comfortable asking her to dance. She agreed, and we danced. After the song ended, I looked at her and she looked at me. I didn't know what to do next. I said, "Thanks" and she said, "You're welcome." We both returned to our seats. Smooth. NOT!

I learned two things that night. One, I was not used to drinking that much. It really wasn't a lot, but I had gotten out of practice. I needed to build my tolerance. Two, I needed to develop a script of phrases to use with women. Rusty does not begin to describe how bad my seduction method was.

I didn't go out the next few Fridays to work on my approach and wardrobe. I also started an exercise and diet routine. My wife offered to join me. We couldn't do all the exercising routines together because of the kids. We both benefited health-wise, and we found another activity we could do together as a couple. I never mentioned my ulterior motive for getting in better shape, but I think Livy figured it out. It never was mentioned though.

I went back to Sally's, more confident in my likely success. I danced more and talked to women more. I drank less. I proposed extra activities more. But I struck out pretty much the same. Finally, the woman I had danced with the first night came over. "Look, hon, you're trying too hard. Lighten up. It's like in basketball, let the game come to you. Take what the defense gives you. Don't worry. You'll score." She was a Kentucky girl. I figured she knew her basketball at least.

I thought about what she said and tried to apply it the next time. I wound up with a woman who was, like me, wearing wedding rings. We got friendly and got to the point where something other than dancing could be suggested. She agreed to go somewhere else with me. I asked what her husband might think if he found us together (Yes, I am that stupid and/or naive.). She said that she and her husband had an open marriage arrangement. He was alleged to be out with a girlfriend right now. We got up to leave and this large hulk of a man came towards us. My 'date' said, "Uh oh." That's never a phrase you want to hear from a date.

"What the hell are you doing, Marla? You about to bump pelvises with this jerk?" He grabbed my shirt and lifted me off the floor.

"Sammy, I was just talking to this man. We were just discussing how wonderful our spouses were. It just so happened we both needed to go to the restroom at the same time. Nothing is going on. What are you doing here?"

"One of your friends ratted you out. And don't think for a second I buy your bullshit story." Turning to me, he exclaimed, "Now, buddy-boy, where do you want your remains sent?" As he raised his arm back, one of the bouncers stopped him. The guy and his wife were escorted out. I started praying he would not be waiting outside when I left. That was the latest I ever stayed out on a Friday.

Again, I waited a few weeks before trying again. I tried to be a little smarter in who I talked to. This time it was another cheater like me. She spent a lot of time telling me what a bastard her husband was. She really didn't care if he found out she was cheating or not. It was her idea to go to a motel. The problem I had was that what she described as horrible things he did, they were things I thought were pretty normal. In fact, it seemed her ideas of abuse were instances where he just didn't kiss her ass enough. I felt sorry for HIM by the time she stopped talking. If the situations were reversed, I would hope he would walk away from my wife. That's what I did with his.

Another time of analysis. Another change in approach. This time I decided to drop my standards. I went with the ugly ones. I had seen the situations where two guys would flip a coin. The one who lost would go to a table where an ugly girl paired herself with a pretty girl. His job was to cull out the cow, so his buddy had a clear shot at the pretty girl. The guy with the ugly one almost always got laid, definitely more often than the guy with the pretty girl. I didn't have a partner, so I would spot a table of several girls and go ask one of the uglier girls to dance.

The girl I picked was not too ugly, face-wise, except for using industrial strength makeup. She had a few too many pounds on a few too many places but she could dance. And she could drink. And drink. The drinks worked. After about her fifth drink, she was humping me on the dance floor. Before I had even finished asking if she wanted to go somewhere quieter, she had grabbed my hand leading me off the dance floor. She got her handbag and said good night to her friends. They cheered. I blushed.

We went to the motel near the club. I should have seen it as a bad sign that she and the desk clerk seemed to know each other. Anyway, we got to the room. Clothes started coming off. Soon, we were both naked. I was coaching myself not to blow this. Finally, I was going to get some strange, fat strange, but strange. I took my time starting to kiss her upper lips, then down to her breasts, and finally to her lower lips. At that point, I had her lay back on the bed with her legs hanging over the end.

I kneeled down and marveled at the first unmarried pussy I had seen in a long time. I started kissing her thighs at the knees and worked my way up. When I had completed both sides, I took a deep breath. I was prepared to muff dive. As I leaned down and stuck my tongue out, I heard her. It was not a moan or groan of pleasure. It was snoring. She had passed out. I didn't know what to do, so I joined her in bed and went to sleep. The next morning, she awoke.

"Oh sweetie, that was the best. You sure are one great lover. We'll have to do that again."

"Can't we do it again, now?"

"I'm sorry, but I've got to run. I'll see you around. Now can you call me a cab?"

No, I didn't say, "Okay, you're a cab." But I was tempted.

Before long, I began to believe I had chosen the wrong place and crowd. For all their bragging, the guys from work didn't seem to be scoring much either. Time for another makeover. I also had to save up some mad money.

There was a club in town known as THE place to go, it was called 'The Place to Go.' Younger, hipper and more expensive. This time I went to a hair stylist. Then I went to a men's clothier and asked the female clerk what she would pick for her boyfriend. She asked, "Which one?" I said, "The older one." She fixed me up.

I emptied my party fund and doused myself with Paul Sebastian cologne. I was ready to PAR-TAY. I almost choked at the $20 cover charge. Inside the music was loud and the lights almost stroke-inducing. I surveyed the scene and tried to find a nest of girls to raid. The first group of girls looked amused at my approach. They barely acknowledged my presence. I moved on. The second group of girls were similar to the first, but they took advantage of my willingness to buy drinks for them. It took a little over $200 in drinks before I realized what the game they were playing. I moved on.

There were some women there my age and older. They appeared to be cougars and were mostly surrounded by male eye candy. Though some were quite old, they were seductively dressed and were beautiful, from long range. I saw one woman who was not as surrounded as the others. I went over and tried to talk to her. She looked as me as if she had just stepped in dog shit. She screamed, "Get away from me you, you LOSER!" Boy, I wish she hadn't used that word. Someone informed the DJ who promptly stopped the song he was playing and played a special song:

"LOSER. We got ourselves a LOSER. He's too much a BOOZER. Drives a pimped- up PT CRUSIER. That's 'cause he's a LOSER." Every time the verse got to LOSER, the whole crowd shouted it out and pointed to me. I'm not sure what the other verses were because I walked out in shame.

I stayed home on Fridays for quite a while. When it got too embarrassing for me to stay home, I started going out on Fridays to the bowling alley or movies. I would even spill some beer on my shirt, so Olivia would smell it when she did the laundry and think I had gone out. (Yes, I felt strange being the only man I had ever known that was leaving false evidence of an affair for my wife.) I finally gave in and went back to Sally's even though I didn't feel like it.

I sat at the bar and started drinking. I never even looked at the dance floor or the women there. A very nice looking woman about my age came up and sat on the stool next to me. "Hey sailor, buy a girl a drink?"

"Sure, send her over."

"Oh, someone has gotten his little feelings hurt. Buy me a drink and I'll be glad to listen to your problems."

"I don't think you want to hear my story."

"Honey, I've heard them all. I doubt you could surprise me."

Having nothing better to do, I bought her a drink and I started telling her my story. It took a while and a few more drinks before I finished.

The woman said after I had finished, "Geez, I guess I hadn't heard them all. You poor baby. Is there anything mama can do to make you feel better. Anything at all?" She rubbed her ample breasts against my arm. Her message was clear. On previous Friday nights, I would have jumped at the opportunity. This time I realized that her interest in me was pity, pity with a fuckable dick attached. She would give me sex all right, pity sex. I refused to admit I had sunk that low.

It was at this time that I realized the futility of what I was doing. I turned down the woman as gently as possible. Well, claiming I was still on antibiotics for my STD may not been the gentlest way. At least she didn't cry on her way back to the herd.

That's when I started looking at my family life, especially what my wife was doing. She had gone many months not acting any differently towards me that she had before. She never acted like she was bothered by my antics on Fridays. If I ever made the mistake and mentioned something related to the agreement, she would say, "STOP. I don't have the right to know. I don't want to know." On other than Friday nights, our family life was wonderful. She never let our agreement interfere with our family life in general or our sex life in particular. Well, she did make sure I wore a condom and, no matter what, I was in the guest bedroom on Friday nights.

Her school had a Christmas party for faculty and staff. I found out that she was well liked by everyone she worked with. She mingled most of the night but came back to check on me several times. She danced with most of the men but none in particular. All kept a respectable distance while dancing and there were no wandering hands. Heck, I got pressed and fondled a lot more than she did by some of the women there. "Why don't these women come to Sally's?" I thought.

I started helping out more at home. I actually enjoyed it. The kids and I did more things together. I complimented Olivia more. Flowers and candy were delivered to her at her school for no particular occasion. I took her to the most expensive restaurant for our anniversary. Then I sprung a surprise. "Olivia, I would like to reserve a weekend."