IT'S GOOD FOR MY MARRIAGE
PEOPLE SEEKING LOVE IN THE WESTERN WORLD SEEM to have marriage, or at least a relatively permanent domestic partnership, as their goal. From our earliest childhood games, we are conditioned to expect to spend our adult lives with a single mate of the opposite gender. The varying disciplines of social science offer a multitude of reasons for this, ranging from the need for tribal males to feel secure about females tending hearth and home while they are out hunting or making war, to the requirement of a readily discernible lineage for stabilizing the concept of inheritance. Whatever the reason, it is clear that each of us is expected to form a single alliance with another person for life.
Divorce statistics show that this expectation is frequently unrealistic. Again, the social scientists offer a variety of explanations for why this is so. Some explanations are far-fetched, while others are plausible. We feel that the only one that is certain is sexual. After seeing, touching, and coupling with the same partner's naked body for a period of time, a person tends to grow bored and to hunger for change.
Self-styled experts have come up with dozens of ways to prevent monotony from killing a marriage. A glance at the magazine racks in any supermarket or at the self-help shelves in any bookstore will present many examples. Depending on the publisher'spoint of view, solutions may involve couple's therapy, exotic vacations, wardrobe suggestions, or even a new recipe for strawberry cheesecake.
This chapter contains stories told by people who claim that they have rescued their marriage from the doldrums of sameness by engaging in extramarital affairs. Nelson has made a habit of it, experiencing the heartbreak of two failing relationships before hitting upon what he believes to be a formula for success. Glenda fell into an affair without intending to do so and later discovered that it brought a new spark to her marriage. We don't know how their experiences will end, and we don't recommend their strategies for anyone else. We do think it might be helpful, though, to see the positive side of their secret sex lives.
KEEPING IT ALIVE
Nelson, who is about forty years old, is a professor in a graduate business program at a state university. He stands six-foot-one, with a lean muscular build that he maintains by working out regularly at the university gym. His medium-length blond hair frames his light-complected face, giving him a youthful yet scholarly appearance. His bright green eyes seem to look right through the person to whom he is speaking, giving one the feeling that Nelson is performing a careful appraisal as he talks.
My work puts me in a position to make contact with lots of intelligent young females. My classes are full of them--women in the world of business who think that an MBA will help them advance from middle to upper management overnight. They admire me. They look up to me. That makes them easy conquests.
In some ways, this has made my life very pleasant. In others, it has been the root of a great deal of heartbreak. I'm on my thirdwife at the moment. My first two marriages failed because I got too involved with attractive students who wanted to idolize and mother me all at the same time. Neither of my first two marriages lasted more than five years. I'm hoping this one will be different.
The first time I got married, I was twenty-five and just starting my teaching career while working toward my Ph.D. in finance. Anna was a colleague, also teaching in the business department. She was a couple of years older than I was, but very, very sexy. When she was in front of a class, she wore severe, dark suits and had her hair pulled back into a sexless bun. But at home, she was a tigress. She would dress for me in the laciest, most erotic lingerie I could imagine and would captivate me by stripping slowly while I sat on the bed and watched her, getting more aroused and more excited by the minute.
Our marriage was hot for the first three years. Then it started cooling off. One afternoon I found myself in a motel room with one of my students, killing time between classes with an idle fuck. A week or so later, I went with another. After that it became a regular occurrence.
Anna probably suspected it, but she never said anything about it. We were beginning to lose sexual interest in each other. After a little more than four years of marriage, we hardly ever had sex with each other anymore. I wouldn't be surprised if she was taking on an occasional student herself. Eventually, I found myself involved in a serious affair.
Britney was one of my students. She was a good five years younger than I and single. At first we started seeing each other for recreational sex. Before I knew it, I became emotionally attached to her. When I saw her talking to her male classmates, I actually became jealous. Soon I had myself convinced that I couldn't live without her.
My divorce from Anna was relatively painless and without rancor since we had lost all interest in each other anyway. After a decent waiting period, Britney and I were married. She was very different from Anna. She was the same person publicly as she wasprivately. Sexy, but in a wholesome sort of way. She wore short skirts that showed off her shapely legs and tight sweaters that accentuated the curves of her ample breasts. Underneath, she wore sensible white cotton undies.
Our nights were filled with passionate lovemaking, but somehow it never reached the levels of excitement I had known with Anna. After about a year and a half, I started taking students to motels again. At first it seemed to put sparks into my marriage. I'd come home following an afternoon rendezvous, my head filled with recollections of the girl I had been with and the things I had been doing with her. When Britney and I went to bed, I would perform some of the same acts on her body, but I'd be thinking of the other woman. For a few more years, this managed to keep our marriage alive.
Then, when I met Caroline, my relationship with Britney started to pale hopelessly. Right from the start, Caroline was more than an afternoon fuck to me. To begin with, she was twenty-four, a little more than ten years younger than I, and satisfying her made me feel like a real sexual athlete. Her sexual experience was pretty limited, so it seemed that almost everything I did was happening to her for the first time. Whenever we went to bed together, I felt I was with a virgin.
I fell in love with her almost immediately. But the idea of having two marriages go down the tubes, one after the other, was horrifying to me. I tried to breathe life into my relationship with Britney. I worked hard at turning myself on so that I could perform with her. I just didn't have it for her anymore, though.
She noticed. At first she was solicitous, asking me repeatedly about my health and suggesting that I see a doctor about my flagging sex drive. Then she became hurt, sensing that she wasn't exciting my sexual interest anymore. Inevitably, she started questioning me about my activities, accusing me of fooling around. She called it "cheating." Funny, I had never thought of it in terms of that word.
I denied the affair for about a year, but I was becoming moreand more enmeshed in it. Caroline was starting to make demands, putting pressure on the relationship. She said she wasn't going to hang around while I worked things out with my wife. I had to make a decision. It was either her or my marriage. I chose her.
Telling Britney I wanted a divorce was no picnic, as it had been with Anna. She was furious and shattered, both at the same time. She cried for days, sobbing bitterly, even wailing at times. It broke my heart to see her in such pain. I just couldn't help her, though. It was over. Soon after our divorce, I married Caroline.
A few of my colleagues joked about the fact that I had gone from Anna to Britney to Caroline. They asked whether I planned to work my way through the alphabet. There turned out to be a certain prophecy to that.
Caroline is probably better suited to my sexual needs than either of my previous two wives. When I want sex, she is always ready, but she never initiates it and makes no erotic demands on me. She'll try just about anything I ask her to do, and she'll let me do anything I want to her sweet, pliant body. Even when she isn't in the mood, she'll let me have what I need, holding me lovingly while I enter her for the relief of my tensions.
We've been married for almost five years. I have to admit that the same three- or four-year syndrome has set in. A little more than a year ago, I started fooling around again. I told myself that it was only to keep my marriage stimulating, and the truth is that's all it's been. I went through three or four different casual partners--before meeting Denise. See, I really do seem to be going through the alphabet.
Denise is an absolute sex machine. I could tell that about her the first time I saw her, sitting in the last row in one of my classes. She kept looking at me and smiling lasciviously, licking her lips with the tip of a pointy pink tongue. After class, she strode up to my desk and said she wanted to discuss something with me in my office. I invited her to walk with me.
As we crossed the campus together, she managed to bump her hip against mine a half-dozen times. Each contact sent a little electricthrill through me. She said almost nothing, and I was feeling a little awkward. But the second we got to my office, that changed.
She closed the door behind us as she followed me in. Then, with no preamble, she said, "I know you've been fucking some of the other girls in your class and that's going to have to stop." I stared open-mouthed, fearful that I had fallen into the hands of one of those ardent feminists who fill every male professor who isn't gay with terror. Before I could respond, she stepped forward and placed her hand on my crotch. "From now on," she said, "this dick is for me."
I wondered whether I was being entrapped, but she removed all doubt when she swiftly unzipped my pants and pulled out my swelling erection. Without another word, she dropped to her knees and put her lips against it. Then she started sucking and licking me, forcing me to use all the strength of my will to keep from crying out in sheer pleasure.
While she worked on me, she opened her blouse and undid her bra, letting her voluminous breasts tumble free. I just stood there staring down at them as she tickled her own nipples with her fingers. She was completely in charge, which was a totally new experience for me. Within moments I was pumping my semen down her waiting throat, biting my lips to maintain silence. She drained me dry. Then she stood and kissed me, her lips sticky with my sap.
"You're mine," she said. "Every Thursday afternoon. I'll give you plenty more like I gave you just now. If you need any more than that, you can get it from your wife. Just make sure you stay away from the other girls."
There was something so forceful about the way she spoke that I felt powerless. And I liked it! This was a real switch. I had always been the aggressor in a sexual relationship, taking subtle advantage of the natural respect and admiration the students felt for me as their professor. Denise was treating me like some subservient creature, bound to do her bidding. In a way, she was relieving me ofresponsibility for my own actions. I had no choice but to obey her commands.
That night I was so hungry for Caroline that I kept her up for hours, making the most passionate and satisfying love either of us had ever known. I sucked on her nipples and plunged my tongue into her vulva, giving her orgasm after orgasm. I rode her until I came, and then rode her some more until my penis got hard all over again. I felt like a teenager, with an endless supply of sexual energy. By the time we fell asleep, the sun was only an hour away from rising.
The following Thursday, Denise stayed in the classroom, gathering her books until all the other students had drifted out of the room. Then she approached my desk and, in a hoarse whisper, gave me her address. Twenty minutes later, we were rolling around on her queen-size bed, coupling in every imaginable position, until I felt totally drained.
We spent most of the afternoon fucking, with very little time devoted to conversation. I did manage to learn that she was married to a medical graduate who was interning at a local hospital. His schedule was strict, so she could be absolutely certain of when he would and would not be home. I thought of asking her to let me come back the next day, but she made it very clear that our relationship was to be limited to one afternoon per week. She was still in charge.
I initially was disappointed, but as I reflected, I realized that it was a relief to know that she was married and that our affair would never become more than just a sexual release. It meant that my marriage was safe. Denise has remained in control, and I'm glad.
When we got together the following week, she kept all her clothes on except her underwear, pulling up her skirt to let me enter her, first vaginally and then anally. She knew exactly what she liked and wanted and knew how to get it from me. At the same time, she was giving me exactly what I liked and wanted.
Again, Caroline was the beneficiary of the sexual excitementthat buzzed around in my head. We had fabulous sex that lasted half the night. We repeated the experience several times during the week. Caroline never knew that it was another woman who was stimulating me and making our sex life so intensely satisfying. I didn't feel the same kind of guilt I had felt before, because I knew my affair with Denise was motivated just by lust and nothing more.
I've continued seeing Denise once a week since then, missing only occasionally, when getting together with her was absolutely impossible. I find that my sexual interest in my wife is as strong as it ever was, and I truly believe that there is no danger of my third marriage going the way of the first two. Every time I meet with Denise, I tell myself that it's a good thing I'm doing. I've even convinced myself that I'm doing it for Caroline.
Sometimes I think I'd like to invite Denise to dinner so that Caroline can meet the woman responsible for preserving our marriage. But of course that's just a silly pipe dream. This works, but only so long as Caroline doesn't know that my secret sex life is what's keeping our relationship alive. Since our sex life is so prolific, she'll never imagine that I have someone else on the side. Everybody's different, and some people, like me, just need an outside interest to keep their marriage together.
At thirty-one, Glenda is short and petite, with straight light brown hair that brushes gently at her slim shoulders. Her boyish figure is trim, with just a trace of bosom, and hips not much wider than her narrow waist. She has dark brown eyes that seem to close her thoughts off from anyone trying to peer inside her. Her work keeps her out in the field a great deal, giving her the kind of freedom she feels she needs.
My dad was a plumber, so I grew up in the trade. By the time I was twelve, I was helping him on jobs. It was good background for me. Now I have a pretty lucrative position as an estimator for a big plumbing contractor. We do work for the city and for lots of local developers. My job is to figure the prospective costs of a project so we can put in a competitive bid.
I always knew I wanted to work in the plumbing business, even when I was in college. That's where I met my husband, Rennie. We were both taking liberal arts courses, but Rennie says we were mostly taking up space. I was nineteen when we met. He's two years older than me. He sells insurance today and makes a pretty good living at it.
We had a whirlwind romance and got married after knowing each other for only a few months. It could have been a terrible mistake, but it wasn't. So far it's working out just great. I say that in spite of the little thing I have going on the side.
I know that's what you really want to hear about, so let me get right to it. Rennie and I have a good relationship, with a healthy amount of more-than-adequate sex. I don't have any complaints at all in that department. Getting into an affair was the last thing on my mind. For the first nine years of our marriage, I was perfectly satisfied. Actually, I still am.
About two years ago, I got a call from Earl. He's been a friend of Rennie's and mine ever since our college days. Not real close, but someone we would see socially maybe two or three times a year. Anyway, he called me at the office one morning, just as I was about to go out to estimate a job. He sounded very upset, so when he asked if he could meet me for a cup of coffee, I agreed.
As soon as I saw him, I knew there was something wrong. He looked like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in days. When I asked him to tell me about it, he sighed and said that his marriage was on the rocks. He and his wife were fighting all the time, andshe wanted him out of the house. He said he thought she might be having an affair of some kind and he just didn't know what to do.
I tried to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder, telling him that every marriage had its problems and that I was sure his wife wasn't cheating on him. I really didn't know anything about it, but it seemed to help. When we parted, he said he was going to talk to her and try to work things out. He asked if we could get together again sometime, and I said, "Sure."
He called me about a week later, and we met in the same coffee shop. Things were a little better between him and his wife, and he said he just wanted to thank me for my advice. A few days after that, he invited me to lunch. We started meeting on a fairly regular basis, just for conversation. Nothing more.
Sometimes he would tell me about fights he had with his wife. Other times, he would say that things were going well. On one occasion, he told me in rather explicit detail about the sex he and his wife had the night before. Part of me felt that I shouldn't be hearing all this, but another part of me enjoyed the description.
In fact, I found myself thinking about it later in the day. I pictured him naked and tried to imagine him and his wife making love. I found myself focusing on an image of his erection, trying to visualize how big and hard it might be. He was a muscular man, with huge hands, and I wondered if that stuff you hear about big hands and big cocks was true.
It seemed to be just idle fantasizing, but that night, when I was in bed with Rennie, I found myself becoming quite aroused by the images in my mind. I reached for my husband and began stroking his cock, feeling it leap into readiness. I pulled on it, guiding him into a position above me and directing him inside me. My eyes were tightly shut. All along, I was thinking about Earl.
The sex was good, but I found myself feeling a little guilty about my secret fantasy. I told myself that it was perfectly natural and that Rennie probably imagined some other woman, himself, while making love to me. But my curiosity was building. By the time Igot together with Earl for lunch again, I was beginning to realize that our relationship was about to go a step beyond conversation. I knew it was significant that I had never once told Rennie about my meetings with him.
At this point, Earl and his wife had just separated. Since then, they've separated and reunited at least a dozen times. But that first time devastated Earl. He was renting a room in a residential hotel and was miserable. When we ordered lunch, he told me that his only consolation was meeting with me. I was the only person who really understood him.
As the waiter served the food, Earl's eyes filled with tears. "I don't think I can eat," he said. "I just want to go to my room and pull the covers over my head."
Without even thinking about it, I moved into the chair next to his and put my arm around his powerful shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. He was on the edge of a sob. "Come on," I whispered. "I'll walk you back to your place."
I can't even remember what happened next. All I know is that we were in his room and in each other's arms. At first he just hugged and clung to me, pressing the front of his body against mine. Rennie is about my size, but Earl is huge by comparison. He seemed to tower over me, enfolding me in the power of his embrace. At the same time he was helplessly childlike. I felt like Fay Wray in the clutches of an adoring King Kong.
It was like nothing I had ever felt before. Suddenly I was aware of his groin, unconsciously grinding against me. His cock was erect, pressing at the front of his pants and making me tingle with sexual anticipation. He bent to kiss me, and when our lips met, the heat was overpowering. I found myself fumbling with the front of his pants, hungry for his sex.
We literally tore each other's clothes off before falling onto the spongy mattress with our arms and legs intertwined. His mouth sought my throat and then my breasts, his lips nibbling so gently at my sensitive skin that I felt myself lifted to a peak of exhilaration.
I was so overcome with excitement and the thrill of his mighty physique that all I wanted was to abandon myself to his touch. I felt no guilt, no remorse, no regret. There was only this moment, only the two of us.
I felt his fingers moving over me, exploring my breasts, gently twisting my taut nipples. He was touching me in places no one but Rennie had ever touched me before, and in a way even Rennie never had. With one huge hand, he held both my breasts at the same time, while his other hand moved slowly and tantalizingly across my naked belly. When his fingers began tangling gently in the curls of my pubic hair, I moaned involuntarily.
I could feel myself opening to him, the lips of my vagina spreading and moistening to invite the entry of his fingers. He found my slit and began moving his whole hand against it, up and down, spreading my fluids to coat my entire groin. Involuntarily, my hips rolled in circles, as though trying to lift my sex up tight against his powerful grasp, but he kept the contact light and gentle.
I reached for his swollen cock. It was even bigger than I had imagined. I wrapped my hand around its thickness, feeling the warmth pulsing through the rich veins that bulged against its smooth surface. The head was a giant knob of hard yet yielding flesh, almost burning me with its heat.
Suddenly he was climbing over me, his face pressed to my open sex. I could feel his hot breath between my legs as the tip of his tongue began stroking the lips of my vagina. His swollen cock was poised over my mouth. I wanted to lick it, to feel its power pressing against my tongue. I took it into my mouth and began sucking on it.
It was huge, absolutely filling my mouth with its masculine strength. As I experienced the shape and flavors of his sex, my mind was drunk with the thought of having it enter my pussy. I was so small, and he was so large. Would he tear me apart?
He must have known what I was thinking. Moving with a delicate grace, he turned and knelt between my spread thighs. His cock was dancing in front of him as it pointed at my opening. Istared at it in wonder as he moved slowly forward and placed its tip against me. With his hand, he moved the giant knob up and down the length of my slit, coating it with the juices produced by my excitement.
Then, with an abrupt movement of his hips, he drove himself into me. I was exquisitely conscious of the membranes of my sex parting before his plunging onslaught. I was stretching and spreading to accommodate his massive force. There was no pain, no discomfort, nothing but sheer ecstasy. I wrapped my legs around his powerful thighs, welding my body to his. Together we rocked and writhed, our bodies locked in feverish union.
It seemed to go on forever. I could feel myself approaching orgasm and then deliberately withdrawing from it, trying to make the experience last as long as possible. He also managed to hold back his climax, until finally neither of us could stand the pleasure any longer. "Come for me," he grunted.
I did. It was the longest, most intense climax I had ever experienced. About halfway through it, his began. I could feel him swelling as he discharged all his pent-up fluid deep inside me. The thought that he was filling me with his hot semen excited me even more, further intensifying my orgasm. I think I screamed.
For a long time, we were silent, neither of us knowing quite how to deal with what we had just gone through. When he spoke, there was a note of apology in his voice. "Glenda," he began. "I didn't expect us to ... I mean I ..."
"Neither did I," I said softly. "But I'm glad we did."
I expected the guilt to set in later, but you know, it never did. I went back to my office and then went home early. I wanted to be sure to have a shower before Rennie got there. When he did, I was dressed in a sexy robe that he had bought me and had dinner waiting on the table. While we ate, I thought about the afternoon I had spent in Earl's bed and found myself becoming intensely aroused.
Rennie offered to do the dishes after dinner, but I just took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. I threw open therobe and let him see that I was naked underneath it. I could feel his eyes fastening to my pubic triangle as he moved toward me. Somehow the idea of making love to my husband just a few hours after making love to another man had me incredibly turned on. I think I gave Rennie an evening he did not soon forget. I loved every second of it.
The memory of my encounter with Earl kept me turned on for weeks, causing me to drag my husband into the bedroom much more often than before. So when Earl called me again, asking me to meet him for lunch, I was more than eager. It didn't seem possible that we would ever have sex as fantastic as we had the first time, but I was dying to find out.
I was a little disappointed when Earl told me that he and his wife were back together again. I tried to be decent about it, telling him how glad I was, but the truth is I wasn't glad at all, because I thought that meant that it was over between us. Earl surprised me, though, shyly saying that he thought that afternoon had helped him to patch things up with his wife, and asking me if I'd ever be willing to do it again. When I told him I was willing to do it that very afternoon, he grinned like a happy child.
This time we went to a nice motel, where Earl checked us in while I waited in the car. Our sex was every bit as good as it had been that first time. Later that night, my sex with Rennie was better than it ever had been before.
Since then, Earl and I have gotten together every few weeks for sex in the afternoon. I don't think my marriage is the least bit threatened by it. In fact, I think it has been a definite improvement. I love Rennie and I love making love with him. But there's something about having a secret sex life with another man that makes our relationship all the more exciting.
Copyright © 2002 by Iris and Steven Finz.