Alternatives

We had a good dinner. It's hard not to, when you are at a great restaurant serving the best cuisine in the world. We chatted about all sorts of things, avoiding the topics we had addressed in the car. I laughed at her jokes and she pretended to like mine. I tried not to tell too many, since I know I can't tell jokes to save my life. I apologized for my lack of talent.

"It's the thought that counts," she smiled.

"Ah, good," I said. "What am I thinking right now?" She laughed. "I knew you'd like that one," I said. "It's one of my favorites."

After dinner, I took her back home. Her parents were waiting up for her, so we stopped at the door. I wasn't quite as brain dead as when I was in high school, so when she leaned in, I gave her a kiss.

Oh, my, that kiss was nice. Soft lips, just the right amount of pressure. I could have stayed there quite a while, but I knew the parents would be peeking soon, so I broke it off.

"Not to be pushy," I said, "but how about if I take you to the museum next week, then to another restaurant I know?"

She smiled her agreement. I told her to be ready at 2 and we'd go ogle some paintings.

The next Saturday, I picked her up and we headed out to the small museum that had some stunning pieces. Not all were to my liking, but many were first rate art that would fit in well at the Tate or the Louvre. We walked from painting to painting, taking in what each of us wanted. At one point, I rubbed her shoulders and felt her shiver. I became more comfortable with holding her as time went on. It wasn't long before we were holding hands and strolling around the gallery. It felt natural.

Dinner that night was natural, too. I took her to the best restaurant I could find, one that had ceilings thirty feet in the air and tables so far apart the waiters used roller skates. Okay, maybe that last one was a bit of an exaggeration, but the restaurant was magnificent and known for excellent service. The waiters were always around, but you never saw them. There was only one seating, so you couldn't be late, unless you showed up after they closed. Each plate was meticulously placed in front of you, with the silverware just so and the crystal kept full of whatever you ordered. All of this came at a cost, of course, but the experience was unforgettable.

And so was the experience when I took her to my place. I had a small house in a nice community, not much to look at but it showed I wasn't a complete deadbeat. I invited her in and we ended up in the bedroom. I'm sure there was more to it than that, but that night remains a complete blur to me. There are only two memories that stick in my mind: one is how passionate she was and the other was her saying "yes" when I asked her to marry me. Okay, maybe I didn't fully think things out, but it seemed like a good thing to do. For some reason, I decided I knew enough about her after two dates to commit my life to her. And for some reason, she thought so too. It took us another month and a half to get married, but it was a great ceremony. It was in a small church, with only the pastor, her parents, and her and me in attendance. It was very intimate. Months later, we had another ceremony, with tons of people, but it was the first one that stuck in my mind. In the second wedding, I calculated that we had time to spend about a minute with each guest; that made no sense to me. The first wedding was for us and the second was for everyone else.

I hadn't had a lot of sex until this point, but we made up for that pretty quickly. The Italian blood in my veins ran hot, to say the least. I loved doing things to her and she loved doing things back. I would nibble on her ear and that's all it took to be off to the races. Almost every night was some exploration of some sort. I found out that gently licking her ear lobe, both on the outside and the inside, then gently exhaling warm air into her ear made her pussy tingle. Who wudda thunk? I discovered her most sensitive spot was where her clit met her vaginal opening. I would tease her with licks along her thighs and the occasional flick of her clit; she jumped every time I did that. I found out she liked to be spanked, something of a surprise to me. I loved running my tongue over her breasts while rubbing her pussy and feeling the excitement ooze through my fingers. Once, when she came home from work, I kissed her deeply, pulled her skirt down, licked her pussy until she was good and wet, then bent her over the couch and rammed my cock into her until she and I both exploded. Other times, it was slow and loving. It's hard to say which was better, but it's easy to say each was good. Sometimes animal urges are just what you need, and sometimes spooning for a long time fits the bill. She was up for all of it, as was I.

She got pregnant almost immediately, so when we went on our honeymoon after the second ceremony, she had the kind of energy you would expect in the first trimester. She took the hike in the Swiss mountains with ease and even suggested we walk off the path and have sex. I explained that the Swiss weren't as tolerant of that sort of thing as the French and maybe we should wait to get back to the hotel. She was disappointed, but agreed the jails were probably not coed, so maybe waiting would be best. I made up for it later.

When the first kid came along, we didn't slow down much, taking each other when we felt like it, kid's feeding schedule allowing. The second kid didn't slow us down, either. Even when she was very obviously pregnant, we still managed. Different positions worked out very nicely indeed. It wasn't practical to have her on her back, but she could certainly rest on her hands and knees while I plowed her from behind. Even when she was ready to pop, her passion remained the same.

As the kids got older, it wasn't quite so easy to get the release we both wanted. We took to making love in the morning, before the kids got up. When the kids were at art school on Saturday, we had time, although it was more rushed than I would have preferred. Even so, we got what we needed. And we needed a lot.

Time marched on, though. I remember the men talking about how difficult it would be for me when I was forty. That was laughable. At forty, Maggie and I were still going strong, with no end in sight. Well, no end but hers. Then the men talked about fifty, how difficult things were. Nonsense. Fifty came and went and I never noticed it. Then they talked about sixty.

This time, they were right.

I noticed that I woke up everyday with aches I never used to have. The ringing in my ears started and never went away; I became suicidal for a while, but eventually figured out the ringing told me I was still alive. My eyes stopped working well; a vitreous detachment gave me vision that was the equivalent of mumbling. Muscles and joints started breaking and took forever to heal. But the biggest problem, at least pyschologically, was that my dick stopped working.

Maggie and I still loved sex, but it wasn't an every day experience like it used to be. The kids slowed us down some, but I had to admit it was I who couldn't perform like I used to. Every day became every other day. And then every third day. And then maybe not at all. The slide into nothingness was sudden and it bothered me tremendously.

"Sweetie," Maggie said, "what's wrong? You've been moping the whole day."

I sighed. "Sorry, I'm a bit out of sorts." I looked at her and said, "Today, I was really horny for you and I couldn't get an erection. I wanted to in the worst way and I couldn't. It kills me; I'm more interested in sex now than ever and I just can't do it. God has a really nasty sense of humor."

She could see how upset I was. "What I'm worried about," I said, "is that I won't be able to take care of you like I used to. I know you still have a healthy sex drive, and I still have urges, but my ability to meet your needs just isn't there."

She frowned at me. "What, your fingers don't work anymore?" she asked. "Tongue's worn out, is it? Lips on the fritz? There are many ways to please me, darling."

"I know you say that," I said, "but I also know that, of all the ways to come, the best for you is when I'm inside you. You remember when I asked you about that? I asked if you preferred my fingers, my tongue, the vibrator, or my cock, and you didn't hesitate before you said it was my cock. You like a stiff cock in your pussy and in your mouth. You know that you do. I know what you want and I can't give it to you anymore. Not often, anyway, and maybe not at all." I was on the verge of tears, my failure so obvious and devastating.

She kissed me and said, "You worry too much."

"You don't understand," I protested. I was frustrated I couldn't get her to grasp how much this hurt. "Your pussy always works. Over the years, we've had to add Astroglide to the grocery list, but your pussy still works. Your muscles are like mine, not quite as toned as before, but your sex works and mine doesn't. You'll never have this problem." I shook my head. "It's a big deal to me. A big part of being a man is being able to please his woman." My throat was tightening up.

"But you do please me," she insisted.

"Not like before," I said, my shoulders slumping.

"Look, sweetie," she said, caressing my face, "it's a fact of life. It's natural."

"So is death," I said. "It doesn't mean I have to like it." I stormed off to the living room, poured myself a drink, and wallowed in self pity for a while.

I thought about what was happening to me. I loved making love to her. I loved making her squirm with a kiss here or a lick there. I could still do that, but I couldn't finish it off. I knew where and how to poke now, but my poker wasn't working. As she said, my fingers and tongue still worked, but I knew that wasn't really what she wanted. She wanted my cock. And my cock, more often than not, was on vacation.

After two weeks with not even so much as firmness from my cock, I started thinking about alternatives. I wanted so much to please her and I couldn't anymore, not the way I used to and not the way she wanted. I loved her dearly and wanted her to be happy. And I realized, in order to make her happy, something had to change.

"Honey," I said one day, "I've been thinking."

"Uh, oh," she said, with a smile on her face.

"No, sweetie," I said, "this is serious. I'm very upset about what has happened to me, to us, sexually. You still have drive, but I don't have the ability anymore. It's been weeks since I've had an erection. I don't get hard anymore and it's killing me. I can't please you like I used to." That last was said in barely more than a whisper.

"Honey," she said, a look of concern on her face, "I haven't complained, have I? We'll do what we can. Can we do more than that?"

I frowned. "Maybe we can," I said. I hesitated. My heart started to race. "I know you like a good stiff cock ramming your pussy." She started to say something, but I cut her off. "Don't deny it. We've talked about it and I know it's true. I also know that I can't give you that anymore." I hesitated again. I swallowed hard and said, "And I want you to have it."

She pulled away from me. Her eyes got wide as she stared at me. "What are you saying?" she said.

"Well," I said, shaking my head, "I'm not sure, but I know I love you and I know I want you to be happy. And I know I can't do what you want. But I know there are others who can."

She stepped toward me and wrapped her hands around my face. "Darling, I am happy. I love you, too. There's been nobody else, ever."

I looked into her eyes and said, "Well, maybe there should be."

She backed away from me and shook her head, looking down at the ground. "No," she said, "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't think that's a good idea at all."

"Look," I said, "it's not something you have to do. I'll admit I'm not sure about this myself. But I hate you not getting what you want, particularly when I know it's available, just not from me. I can give you a lot of things, but not everything." I noticed her hands were wrestling with each other, right at her groin. "And," I continued, looking down at her hands, "admit that the idea, however scary it might sound, also excites you."

She looked up at me with a timid smile and furrowed brows. "We'll talk about this some other time."

It was a few weeks before she would discuss it again. I had brought the subject up a few times, but she always turned the conversation away to something else. One time, though, she didn't.

"Have you given The Idea anymore thought?" I asked.

She took a breath, exhaled, and said, "Yes, I have."

I smiled. Perhaps progress was being made. "It's been about a month now and I haven't gotten hard for you even once. Do you really want to continue to deny yourself what you want and what you could have?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "No, not really," she said, shaking her head and sighing. She looked up at me with uncertain eyes. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"To be honest," I said, "no, I'm not sure at all. But I'm sure I want you to be happy. Maybe it won't work. Maybe you'll hate it. Maybe I'll hate it. But I think it's worth a try. Do you want to try it? Do you have someone in mind?"

She looked scared, like I was going to explode, but she said, "Well, there is this guy who's been friendly..." She searched my eyes to see the reaction.

I tightened my lips, then said, "Okay, maybe you should pursue it." My heart was pounding at this point. I was just about to give my wife to another man. I couldn't believe I was doing this, but I also couldn't continue to see her frustrated.

"I'm not sure about this," she said.

"Neither am I," I said, "but it's worth a try. Look, I'm an engineer. This is a practical solution, don't you think?" I nodded my head and gave her a small smile.

"Maybe it is," she said, with an air of resignation and a trace of hope.

We left it at that for a while. After a couple of weeks, we had another discussion.

"Okay, Maggie," I said, "it's time to move forward. You're clearly unhappy with the sex we've been having..."

"Not unhappy," she interrupted.

"Okay, not completely satisfied," I said. She gave a frown and a small nod. "Now that you've accepted that, I think you should check out some other men. You said you had someone in mind, so maybe it's time to try it and see how it works. All I ask is that you don't tell me about it. Try to be as discreet as you can be. I'm not following you around, so you can set up whatever you want. Just don't push my face into it, okay?"

She looked relieved. "Okay," she said, "if I decide to try it, I won't burden you with details. If."

"Okay," I smiled, "if."

We left it at that. We continued to have sex, such as it was, but didn't worry about me getting an erection anymore. And I didn't. I didn't like it, but I had to accept that nature had dealt me a card I had to play...or not play, in this case.

After a while, she seemed to be in a better mood. She'd give me little kisses for no reason and tussle my hair just because. The smiles got bigger and the laughter showed up more often. I guessed she was getting some relief somewhere, but, true to her word, I never knew about it. It's easier to ignore things when you don't know, for sure, what's happening.

And it stayed that way for a long time. One day I was out playing golf on my normal day when I pulled a muscle. I hit my tee shot on number nine and felt a lightning bolt of pain in my shoulder. I apologized to my partners and said I was out. It hurt to swing and I knew that continuing was just going to make things worse. When I was younger, maybe I could have played through it, but at my age, things took forever to heal and stopping at the very first hint of pain was a really good idea. Otherwise, you were looking at a year or more to get back in shape.

I took a quick shower in the locker room, then headed over to the bar for lunch. The food's pretty good and Maggie and I enjoy eating there, but it's not much fun when it's just me alone. If I had finished the round, I'd have my buddies with me, but not this time. So I finished up and headed on home. I had a book I wanted to get started on and reading doesn't move my sore shoulder much.

My first hint that something was up was the car parked in front of our house. Most people in the neighborhood used their garages, so a car on the street drew attention. I got to wondering if maybe this was one of Maggie's "relievers." I carefully opened the back door, so as not to disturb anything. If there was anything to disturb. My heart was racing at the possibility. I thought I heard some sounds, but I wasn't sure. I'm guessing, if there was anyone home and they were doing what I thought maybe they were doing, it would be the bedroom upstairs. I climbed the stairs slowly, keeping to the wall so the steps wouldn't squeak. I don't know why I was being so careful. Maggie knew I was okay with what she was doing, assuming she was doing anything.

My assumptions were wiped out with reality pretty quickly. I heard Maggie talking while the bed squeaked.

"Oh," Maggie cried, "right there! Yes!! Right there!" I heard some grunts, then Maggie said, "Jesus! Oh, sweet Jesus! Harder, please harder!"

I got up to the door and carefully peaked between the door and the jamb. There was just a little slit to look through, but if I got my head positioned just right, I could see what was going on.

"Oh, shit!" Maggie screamed. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

I could see Maggie mounted on someone, in a reverse cowgirl. Whoever he was, he had his hands on her hips and was ramming his cock into Maggie as hard as he could. Her tits were bouncing up and down, in time with his pounding. Her head was tilted back, with a look of pain that I knew was intense pleasure. I thought this would bother me, but I couldn't help but smile. She was deliriously happy. She had found that cock she was hoping for, the cock she needed. I could finger her until she came, but she needed a cock for the explosion she wanted and she had found it.

I couldn't see as well as I wanted, so I decided to peek around the edge of the door. I tried to be as careful as I could. This was incredibly exciting for me and I wanted to see more. Around the edge of the door, I could see Maggie's pussy with a hard cock plunging into it. I could hear the slap of flesh on flesh as he rammed into her deeply. She rubbed her tits and moaned, while he grunted his own pleasure.

Then she saw me. Her eyes opened for just a second and she saw me. I wasn't quick enough to get out of sight. This man, whoever he was, continued to slam into her, but she hesitated, just for a moment. I winked and smiled at her and she mouthed "sorry" to me. I shrugged my shoulders and motioned for her to continue. I enjoyed seeing her enjoy herself. I loved seeing her get hammered by a man who could do it. I saw her rub her tits and her hair, writhing on this stiff cock she found and was thrilled with every motion, moan, and groan she made.

I fact, I loved it so much I didn't notice how hard I had gotten, not at first. I watched her moan and shake and felt a stiffness I hadn't felt for some time. I felt an urge I hadn't had for quite a while. As she was bouncing up and down on this man's cock, I took out my own cock and started to stroke it. It was as hard as a rock, harder than it's been for a long time, and it felt good. She opened her eyes and saw me. A smile came to her face. She started bouncing on this man's cock harder and harder. He reached his limit and roared his climax. She screamed at the same time, but I could tell she hadn't come. She motioned me to go away, so I quickly walked down the hall and ducked into the kids' bathroom. I heard them collapse and breath heavily.