This story involves incest, but not in the first chapter.
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I was very happy when I was married the second time. My first marriage had been a disaster but the second marriage was everything that I always expected to have if I ever happened upon "the right one." And my second wife had been the right one.
My first marriage lasted 15 years. I thought she was the right one -- obviously, or I would not have married her. Unfortunately, I ignored the warning signs when we were dating. There were clues, omens, glimpses into the future that I blindly refused to see. After a few years of something less than connubial bliss, and a few months of marriage counseling, I learned that "the right one" had borderline personality disorder.
If you don't know anything about borderline personality disorder, you are quite lucky. Women with this disorder have frequent and prolonged states of aversive tension. They have frequent and sudden changes between anger, anxiety, and depression. They very often have destructive or self-destructive feelings, they have a weak sense of identity, and they perceive themselves as victims. In their perception, everything that happens in their life is caused by someone else and they take no responsibility for the chaos that surrounds them. You don't want to be married to a borderline personality. However, very intelligent women with borderline personality can sometimes mask their symptoms for long periods of time and that is what Number One did to me.
After the divorce, I was apprehensive about getting into another long-term relationship. Still, I was too young to commit myself to a life of celibacy, I have never solicited or used the services of a prostitute, and masturbation is a very poor substitute for physical intimacy with a woman.
I started using a few internet dating sites and learned how easy it was to find women who were available and not obviously defective. After one or two weeks of exchanging emails and a few phone calls, I always suggested that the new prospect meet me at a restaurant for dinner. If there was no chemistry, we went our separate ways after dinner. When that happened, I had spent about $50 but had saved myself from the necessity of dealing with a potentially awkward situation. When the chemistry seemed to be present, I suggested a second date the following weekend and things progressed from there.
I was surprised at how ready these women were for a sexual encounter. Usually, by the third date, I was in her bed, either getting my dick sucked or pounding her pussy as hard as I could. A few of the women were relatively uninhibited and were not bashful about telling me what they wanted me to do to their bodies. Usually, they wanted me to lick their clit, which I was always happy to do. One of them had to have sex in three positions before she could cum -- missionary, woman on top, then doggy style. One of them couldn't cum without a vibrator parked on her clit for fifteen minutes. One very beautiful girl, who was a few years younger than me, took me in her bedroom, quickly removed her clothes, got in the doggy position with her butt up in the air, and asked me to fuck her in the ass. I was always happy to oblige.
I had some good times with these women but it never got too serious. I tried to date women who lived 50-75 miles away from me, so that it wouldn't be convenient to see them during the week. If she had kids at home, I never went to her house unless the kids were spending the night somewhere else. I made a point of telling them, during the initial 'getting to know you' phase, that I had been badly burned in my marriage and never intended to do that again. When I sensed that they were developing some attachment, I started suggesting dates every other weekend instead of weekly encounters. And, if I sensed that none of these tricks were working, I simply told them that I wasn't ready for a long term relationship and I wanted to break up before anyone got too involved.
This pattern continued for about two years. I was certainly getting my needs satisfied and I was not trying to hurt or take advantage of anyone else in the process. I was content and thought that this formula was right for me.
All of this went out the door when I met Laura. Laura was 34 years old (and I was 42,) about 5'4", 120 lbs., blonde hair, blue eyes, and 34B tits. (I am not obsessed with big tits and, in fact, prefer women who are not flat-chested but who have small boobs. I am very happy with 34A or 34B tits.) Laura had not been a cheerleader in high school but she looked like she could have been. She had a very cute face; she looked pure and wholesome, not glamorous or worldly. I thought she looked like a blonde Hillary Duff.
Laura was an ER nurse and she earned a good income so I know that she wasn't looking for someone to take care of her. Like me, she had been married previously and he must have been a real idiot, because he had been cheating on her for several years. When she discovered it, she divorced him very quickly. She got primary custody of their one child -- Elizabeth -- and the father/sperm donor left town and abandoned his child.
Elizabeth was 11 years old when Laura and I started dating. Obviously, Elizabeth was never spending the night with her father but she did spend weekends with her maternal grandparents. Initially, I maintained all the rules designed to avoid long-term relationships, but after a few months, I knew that things were different with Laura and I abandoned all the rules.
One thing that was different was that Laura wasn't real quick to jump into a sexual relationship. This was frustrating, initially, but I eventually came to respect her approach. She told me that she had only had two sexual partners in her entire lifetime and she never wanted to think of herself as promiscuous. She did promise me that she wasn't waiting to have a ring on her finger before she would have sex but, on the other hand, she also did not subscribe to the three date rule. She acknowledged that she understood sexual needs, as she actually had a strong sex drive and masturbated almost every day. If I got too horny, she explained, she could take care of my needs without having vaginal intercourse.
By our fifth or sixth date, we were feeling comfortable with each other. She would kiss me like she was on fire with passion and she let me feel her boobs through her clothes. She wouldn't let me put my hands near her panties or under her blouse. She understood that I was just really feeling horny. Finally, she told me to stop what I was doing and she said that if I followed her orders, she would 'take care of me.'
"I'm horny, too, but it's just too soon for us to be 'doing it.' I can do something that will take care of you and me, but I don't trust you to exercise that much self-control, so I have to ask you: how much do you trust me?" "I trust you absolutely," I replied.
"Good, because I'm gonna tie you up so you don't do anything bad," she answered.
She left the room for a minute and returned with a roll of duct tape and a bottle of KY. She instructed me to sit in a dining room armchair and get comfortable. She taped each of my arms to the arms of the chair with 6 to 8 wraps of the duct tape.
"Hey, you're not the only one here that I don't trust . . .. Now that you can't touch me, I'm gonna show you what you've obviously been wanting to see."
She stood in front of me and began a very seductive strip tease. "When I masturbate, I play with my nipples a lot," she said as she began to rub her boobs through her blouse. "Would you like to see my nipples?" she asked in her little-girl voice.
"Hell, yeah, I wanna see them and I wanna lick on them."
