Ambiguous Feelings

The events of this story really started after we'd been married for only two years. We'd dated for two years before actually tying the knot, although I'd been 200 miles away at college for a large part of that time. Looking back, I was cringingly naïve at the outset. I genuinely believed that we were so suited to each other, and so in love, that we would never have a serious falling out.

Gayle was two years younger than me with a body that never failed to stir me --small pert breasts, with nipples that became rubbery firm when aroused, cold, or sucked between my lips; a beautifully trim, shapely arse, athletic legs and a neat pussy that I'd happily lick for hours. Topped off with blue green eyes and dark silky hair, I was very happy.

I thought we were fairly adventurous, although with hindsight I realise it was probably no more than most young couples would cover exploring. We had sex outside a few times, took photographs, read and watched some porn together, tried dressing up (Gayle, not me!) and used sex toys. She wasn't keen on sucking my cock, and certainly would not let me cum in her mouth.

I enjoyed everything, but gradually things petered out. I now realise that she wasn't getting as much out of sex as I was, and she quickly tired of each thing we tried. With dispassionate hindsight (again), this included sex with me generally. Her keenness on her vibrators should have been a big enough clue. We almost never had sex without her augmenting it with one toy or another. Stupidly, as I was pleased I'd found something she liked, I bought her a wide variety and encouraged their use rather than trying to improve our lovemaking together. It was years later that she told me that I'd never got her to orgasm without using buzzing plastic. I'd thought she'd cum almost every time -- usually more than once. I didn't have a clue.

Sex was becoming a non event at the same time as Gayle went back to college to gain some job skills. Sex was basically a solo event. Gayle clearly enjoyed college and in the evening would chat about her day and the people she'd become acquainted with. The increased cheeriness she conveyed did not make things any better between us and any semblance of a sex life came quickly to an end. She was becoming less and less satisfied with her home life, and with me, and this coincided with increasingly frequent references to someone called Dave at college.

Over an incredibly short period our relationship turned cold and distant, until one morning when we were lying in bed with an expanse of no-man's-land between us, Gayle spoke without any preamble.

"What would you say if I said I wanted to sleep with Dave?"

I froze, I didn't move, blink, or even breath. I was filled with terror and felt physically sick. It was as if I'd been told I had a terminal illness, with only days or weeks left to live. My marriage, the life that I had built, my security were falling into a chasm.

Yet at the same time my cock was instantly hard! I was academically intelligent. I had a degree and professional qualifications. I was practical. People came to me for advice and support when they were in trouble or needed help. But at the same time I'd always been overruled by my dick, even when I could see the sheer folly of it. My sex drive always trumped sanity, even if it was perversity against something as precious as my marriage.

I lay still, other than the stiffening of my cock, of which she was unaware, I made no response. I didn't know what response to make, although my mind was in turmoil.

"Well? Aren't you going to say something?"

I didn't reply, but with nerves trembling, knowing I could never undo what I was about to do, I slid my hand across the sheet. I took her hand and brought it back, and placed it on my rock solid cock.

She left her hand there for a long 5 seconds.

"Why?"

What answer could I give? I didn't know myself.

"I don't know. It just makes me horny". Fuck I was pathetic!

"You wanker!" She said it conversationally, with resignation, then she swung her legs out of bed, pulled on some clothes and went downstairs and left the house. Oh Christ, what had I done?! But she was right. Even as I wondered if my marriage was over, with all that entailed, I took my cock in my hand and beat off -- twice!

* * * * * * *

It was late afternoon when she came home. Crazily, artificially we did not speak This was really adult! I broke first.

"Where did you go?"

"Out!" I'd expected belligerence, but it still hit me in the gut. I couldn't help but ask:

"To see him?"

"Yes." Two questions, two one word answers. I was like a boxer that kept leading with his chin.

"Did you sleep with him?"

"No." It was neither indignant, nor a passionate denial. Just the word 'No'. She didn't seem to mind if I believed her, or not. I may as well have been asking if it was raining.

"What then?"

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to bed."

Brilliant -- That was the closest I could come to trying to salvage our relationship! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

* * * * * * *

A few days of phoney peace passed, until she came home from college one evening with a request.

"I want to have a bit of a party for the people from college. I've suggested next Friday. Is that okay with you?" I couldn't believe it -- that she'd even want them back here! Her next comment didn't make things any better:

"You don't have to be here. You could go out if you want to." This just wasn't bloody real. What alternate universe had these social rules and niceties?! I was fuming. I was so angry I was shaking.

"Will Dave be coming?"

"Yes. Is that okay?"

"No problem -- if you don't mind me kicking the shit out of him as soon as he steps through the door!" I said it coldly, looking her in the face. She knew I meant it. She didn't mention the contradiction between getting turned on at her wanting to fuck him, and willing to be violent if he came to a social function. But maybe it was the social rubbing my nose in it that I couldn't deal with.

"Okay. I'll tell them the party's off. We'll go elsewhere".

Three days later she packed a couple of bags and left me.

I found out later that she'd got a room in the same student house as Dave.

We had some contact when she came round to collect some things on a few occasions, as well as messages passed via family. I let her know I wanted her back; she let me know she wasn't interested.

Shortly after Christmas and New Year, when I'd got to the point of resigning my self to the finality of the situation, she rang me to say she wanted to come home and try again. That evening a taxi brought her and her bags back.

* * * * * * *

I never really understood what brought about the change of mind. It may have been a lot less heartache if the loss I was coming to accept had stayed lost. Gayle came back into the house, but didn't want to touch in bed, or hold hands outside. Intimacy came back very slowly.

Then one day we were lying in bed when she turned towards me, and began very lightly brushing her fingers up and down my cock, a rarity for which I was grateful! I was relaxing into it, when Gayle spoke quietly, telling me that she'd never actually slept with Dave. They had kissed and petted, but no sex. I think I believed her. I was so pleased. She went on to say that she was sorry she'd hurt me, that she should never have left, and she did not want to lose me. I began to believe we could rebuild our marriage and really put it all behind us, that given time we'd heal, and this episode, eventually, would become an increasingly insubstantial memory.

Then she went on to say that whilst staying with her parents over Christmas, she'd met her old boss, Paul. Hearing that we were separated Gayle said he'd flirted even more intently than he had when she'd worked for him... ... ... and she'd liked it. Nothing had happened, but she wanted it to. Whilst she had decided she didn't want an affair with another man, or to have a relationship of fidelity with Dave, she did want to enjoy 'fucking for fun' with other men. Her logic was fairly simple.

"The prospect of me fucking Dave made your positively throb, but you didn't want me to leave you. You must know that sex with you started badly and never improved. I'd like to have satisfying sex with someone more competent, and I think that's what you'd like me to do too." She paused, "I don't ever want to leave you, but I think we'd both really enjoy me having other men."

It was just like the first time: Shock, fear, that heavy sick ball in my stomach ... ... and my cock twitching so hard it bucked her fingers off. She laughed.

"It's going to be great. I won't keep any secrets, I'll tell you everything"

She gave my cock another squeeze. "Can you finish yourself off? I'm going to ring Paul!"