Twenty-three years! Twenty-three fucking years! No, twenty-three NON-fucking years, all down the drain. And I'm just waking up to the new light.
My wife Diedre (DD for short) was the youngest daughter of a couple who gave birth to eight children and even though her mother obviously had her fun days, she taught all five of her daughters that sex was dirty, that it was only for procreation and not for fun. DD was indeed a virgin when we got married ... she made sure that all I got before then was an occasional squeeze of her tits.
And what she knew about sex on our wedding night could have fit in a thimble and you're finger still would not have felt it when you put it on. I set about teaching her the hows and whys of various activities but mostly she refused to participate. She wanted nothing to do with oral sex, either giving or receiving. Vaginal sex was okay occasionally in the missionary (me on top) or doggy positions but anything else was forbidden. It was to be conducted only in our bedroom and with every light out ... otherwise someone might see something they shouldn't.
Oh, but I loved and was in love with that girl. She was a beautiful redhead with a very nice body, including a pair of 38D hangers at the time we were married and they grew to 38DD after nursing three kids (and occasionally me, when I could talk her into it). By the sixth year of our marriage, I had vowed to stay with her, be as faithful as possible, and when the urges became too great to push down, discretely purchase a blow job and go back to my sweetheart. So now for 23 years, I've lived with fucking my little redhead once or twice a month, jacking off frequently and getting a pro to suck me off about six times. I remembered my excursions into the realm of anal activities with other girlfriends before we were married but I pretty much kept those desires buried in the past or confined to some wistful glances at an occasional passing booty. I realize that this meant that I was not altogether faithful to my wife but there was a lot of suffering in those 23 years for no more than six blow jobs by strangers.
Then a couple of years ago (about three months before our twenty-first anniversary in March), some subtle changes began to occur. DD worked for the local outlet of a regional department store chain, one that was nevertheless large enough to be traded on the NYSE. As much as anybody who preferred to be doing something of their own choosing, DD was happy with her work. She occasionally complained about various things but she also looked forward to getting up every day and getting to the store and her office in particular.
But that began to change in December for some reason. When I asked why she no longer seemed to be happy about her work, she told me I was crazy and didn't know what I was talking about. But there were other changes too. She had always worked a set schedule and I could count on her leaving the house within three minutes of 07:45 AM every day, because it took her eight or nine minutes to get to work and park and then two to three minutes to get to her office. She was never late but she was also never early, preferring to spend as much time as possible at home before she left. Then she would be home within three minutes of 05:15 PM every day, always leaving right at five, walking out and driving the same route to the house.
Oh, her job required that she occasionally spend a little time working late to complete quarterly or annual reporting but that didn't happen every reporting period by any means. But in December that changed. She started working late two or three times a week every week. With no explanation, she had to make quarterly overnight trips to the home office. By March her attitude seemed to recover somewhat and she became her old friendly self but her schedule remained erratic. When I tried to probe into why all the changes occurred, she became furious with me, telling me it was none of my business, that she was just performing her job and after all we needed her income to maintain our standard of living.
I could understand it if her job assignment had changed and she had new responsibilities but she wouldn't talk to me about it. Why not? What was the big deal? If they had changed, did it involve a raise? And she didn't want to share her good fortune with me? She had never done anything like this before but I guess there's always a first time.
I let it go and tried to be understanding and helpful. However the change that bothered me the most was that she no longer seemed able to stand to have sex with me. We went from once or twice a month to once every six weeks to once or twice a quarter. I begged her to let me make love to her but instead of opening up, she closed me out as if she didn't even want me to see her body, let alone try to sample it. Her magnificent tits, which I had always adored, became off limits. Not only could I not suck on her twins, I couldn't even fondle them.
I tried to finger-fuck her pussy but she clamped her legs together and sent me away almost in tears. She yelled and screamed that all I ever wanted to do was have sex and nothing else was important to me. Where the hell did that argument come from after more than 21 years of marriage by that point? I tried scheduling a quiet weekend at a picturesque B&B in the beautiful hilly woods of the state but, even though part of my plans were nonrefundable, there was no way she was going with me. Even when I asked in advance about scheduling dinner at a nice restaurant, she always made the excuse that she didn't know if work would let her get off in time; as it turned out, she cancelled out almost 70% of those dates I had set up.