My Wife is No Longer My Lover Ch. 0315 Aralık 2021
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There are no characters under the age of 18-years-old in this story.
When they were first married, they lived a normal life.
Continued from Chapter 02:
Even though he willingly licked her pussy while fingering her cunt, with him not knowing what he was doing when positioned in-between her long, shapely legs, he didn’t take the time enough to give her an orgasm. With her needing massive amounts of sex to get off, it took more than what he was doing to get Kathy to cum. Where he was gentle and loving with his wife, he had no idea that he needed to be aggressive and forceful. He had no idea that she liked having sex when the man was roughly demanding with her. Not wanting to be made love to, she wanted to be taken. Not wanting to be made love to, she wanted to be fucked. She needed to be violently raped.
With Kathy obviously uninterested in having sex with her husband, John, especially oral sex, he never could give her an oral orgasm. Trying his best to get her to cum while licking her and fingering her, John foolishly believed that if he gave her an oral orgasm, she’d give him an oral orgasm too. Unbeknownst to him, the problem in him not able to give her an oral orgasm was something that he discovered much later in their marriage. Kathy wasn’t sexually attracted to him. Sadly and regrettably, she was never sexually attracted to him in the way that he was always sexually attracted to her.
Yet, she didn’t need to be sexually attracted to him or to any man that gave her sex. What she needed was for him to force her to give her sex. Just as she wasn’t sexually attracted all the men that she masturbated and/or blew in the XXX-rated movie theatre, she needed him to forcibly take what she couldn’t willingly give. She needed him to slap her while stripping her naked. She needed him to force her while violently raping her. Perhaps that’s why she married him, her way of putting a stop to her sexual addiction, she needed what he was incapable of giving her.
When she could have married any man, a man she was sexually attracted to, a handsome man, a manly man, a man who was more the physical specimen than was her husband, one would wonder why she agreed to marry him. John had no idea that, other than to have babies, to financially support her, and to give her a comfortable life, was why she married him. Innocently and foolishly, he thought she loved him. He thought she loved him as much as he loved her.
Obviously, unbeknownst to John until much later in their marriage, just as she was done with stroking and sucking cock, Kathy was done having sex. Once he gave her what she so wanted, children, she was done with him too. For a woman who loved having sex with so many men, it was as if she had turned into a man hater. Having nothing to sexually do with men, even her own husband was how she kept her sexual addiction in check.
What better man to marry than one who didn’t sexually arouse her? What better man to marry than one who didn’t force his sexual will on her? What better man to marry than one who didn’t know how to push her buttons of sexual arousal? Other than them occasionally having sexual intercourse, with her acting prudish, morally modest, and religious, she pretended that she wasn’t sexual, even though she obviously was. If only he knew what she did in the past, if he dared to reopened her sexual floodgates, he wouldn’t know how to close them.
As she professed to her husband over and again, lying to him, of course, she more viewed having sex as her way to have children, but not for pleasure. In the way that John wanted sex more for pleasure than to create children, he would have been better off marrying someone else. He would have been better off marrying a woman who sucked cock and who swallowed. He would have been better off marrying an average looking woman who was hot in bed instead of a beautiful woman who was cold in bed.
Only smitten with Kathy from the start, love at first sight, she was the prettiest woman and had the best body he had ever seen. Moreover, he couldn’t believe someone who looked like her was romantically interested in someone who looked like him. With him respecting her wishes to be a virgin until her marriage night, he thought once married to her that he’d open her floodgates for sex. Alas, he had no idea that her floodgates had been dammed and permanently closed before he married her.
Especially now that they were done making babies, having had a better chance of seeing his mother and/or sister naked than his wife, he seldom saw any part of his wife’s naked body. Besides, if John knew that Kathy had a checkered past, he never would have married a whore who had a sexual history and who had given a small army of men hand jobs and blowjobs. He liked the fact that his wife was a virgin and untouched by any man when he married her. Shockingly surprising and scandalously salacious, if only he knew that she wasn’t very virginal with her hands and her mouth, wouldn’t he be surprised?
As if a scene from one of trabzon escort her romance novels, John didn’t know that the way to get Kathy’s sexual motor started was to push her back on the bed, strip her naked, and slap her around. Not knowing her sexual buttons to push in which order, he didn’t know that he needed to force her and to forcibly take her for her to give him passionate sex. In the way that Perry Wright, played by Alexander Skarsgard raped his wife, Celeste Wright, played by Nicole Kidman, in Big Little Lies, John didn’t know that he needed to force Kathy.
John didn’t know that he needed to violently rape his wife to make her the whore that she used to be and needed to be again to give him sex. A nice man, a kind man, a gentle man, and a man who didn’t sexually arouse her, he was the reason why Kathy had chosen him. With her not sexually attracted to him in the way that he was sexually attracted to her, he was her cure to her sexual addiction. He was her way for her to have a normal life and a somewhat happy marriage with children without having the uncontrollable need to stroke and suck cocks.
If only he had the audacity to invade her privacy and read her diary, with everything there in plain sight, every man she stroked and sucked, wouldn’t he be surprised by all that she wrote? It wasn’t as if she was trying to hide her private thoughts, she wasn’t. As if hoping he’d find them, she left her diary in plain sight, right there on the nightstand. He only needed to open it and to read it but, respecting her privacy, he never did.
The real Kathleen was a sexual woman that he’d never suspect his wife of being. The real Kathleen was as much of an exhibitionistic whore as he was a voyeuristic pervert. The real Kathleen had a prior life of having sex with anyone and at any time. The real Kathleen loved men forcing her to allow them to touch her, feel her, grope her, and fondle her. The real Kathleen loved when men, strange men, and men she had never met before, didn’t even know their names, undressed her, touched her, and felt her naked body. The real Kathleen loved stroking dozens of cocks as much as she loved sucking dozens of cocks.
If only he knew that every time she said no was his cue to slap her across her face but not too hard and not hard enough to leave a mark. If only he had taken her and put her over his knee and slapped her naked ass hard until it was a bright red, she’d revert to being the whore that she truly was and still wanted and needed to be. If only he’d straddle her shoulders and force his erect prick in her mouth, while pinching her nipples and squeezing her tits hard, she’d gladly suck his cock, allow him to cum in her mouth, and swallow his cum. If only he’d grab her by her hair, pull hard, and force her to her knees, she’d be his sexy, sexual bitch.
Before they married, the only home they knew were their parents’ homes. With their parents chipping in to give them a down payment for a house of their own, they lived on a quiet, dead end street across from a cemetery. At least, with the main entrance and exit to the cemetery on the other side by main road, they weren’t spectators to the daily funeral processions coming and going down their street all day.
They Honeymooned in Florida for a week and returned to take possession of their new home. With John not very strong, he struggled to carry Kathy across the threshold, even though she weighed not much more than 130 pounds. Yet, at 5’10” tall without heels, she was taller than he was. With him barely 5’7″ tall and overweight, and with him having a complex about his height and his weight, before falling in love with Kathleen, he always dated shorter, heavier, and less attractive women. Even though she looked nothing like Cher and he looked nothing like Sonny Bono, because of their obvious differences in height and weight, not very nice, their unkind friends used to call them Fatty and Cher behind their backs.
An extraordinarily pretty woman, Kathy had short, dark brown, straight hair that fell to her chin to frame her face. She was the rare, beautiful woman that both men and women stared at her when seeing her, especially when seeing her for the first time. She had expressive and captivating, brown eyes, the kind of eyes that he and everyone else felt compelled to stare in them while imagining kissing her, making love to her, and imagining her staring up at them while sucking their cocks. Yet, more than just a pretty face and a sexy body, she had intelligence behind those big, brown, beautiful eyes.
More than one man who asked her out on a date said that she resembled Mary Tyler Moore. Even though she wished she looked like Mary Tyler Moore, even though her friends and family all said she did, she never saw the resemblance. If asked, she didn’t even think she was pretty but plain. With Kathy now in her new role as a morally modest, married woman with children, she no longer thought of herself as a sexual woman. Once she stopped having sex, she no longer thought about sex. Yet, once a whore, always a whore and trabzon escort bayan she was once the biggest whore around.
John concurred that she did look like the famed, late, great television actress. Every time he watched reruns of the Dick Van Dyke show, he’d masturbate himself while imagining Mary Tyler Moore blowing him before imagining his wife sucking his cock. From the first time he saw Mary Tyler Moore on the Dick Van Dyke show and met Kathy years later, he felt as if he was dating Mary Tyler Moore’s much younger, and prettier sister.
Before she steadily dated him, every man she knew wanted her. She could have chosen any man to marry. Her friends and family questioned why she dated someone who looked like John. In the way that Cher married Sonny, people wondered why she married him when she could have married any man, a taller man, and a better man.
Years later, in the way that Penny, played by Kaley Cuoco, dated, had sex with, and married geeky Leonard Hofstadter, played by Johnny Galecki, on The Big Bang Theory, everyone was shocked when Kathy married John. To look at her and then to look at her husband, unless he was rich, which he wasn’t, had a big cock and was a great lover, which he didn’t and wasn’t either, their union made no sense. Yet, her way of putting her whoring past behind her, she thought by marrying a man who wasn’t very attractive would force her to live a cloistered life or a morally, modest and sexually prudish librarian.
Where she was tall, he was short, and where she was shapely slim, he was out of shape and overweight. Moreover, where she looked like a celebrity, he more resembled a taller version of Danny DeVito. Only, in the way that she had the self-confidence to seduce any man when reading her romance novels, she didn’t have the self-confidence that some of her friends had to go after a better catch. Moreover, been there and done that, the last thing she wanted was someone who was sexual. The last thing she wanted was sex.
She needed a man who turned her off sexually instead of turning her on sexually. Unlike men who only go by a woman’s outside appearance, she could see John on the inside. A pleasant man with a quick wit and a good sense of humor who didn’t drink, smoke, swear, or gamble, she knew he was a good man who’d give her a good life and make her children a good father. He was the type of man that she needed to revert from being a cock stroking and cock sucking whore.
### Susan Jill Parker — Retirement is no Paradise ###
Now that they’ve been married for more than forty-five-years, even though the times had changed many times over again, they never changed. Seemingly everything between them remained the same. He wanted more sex and she wanted less sex. If it was up to her, with her never sexually attracted to him, she’d never have sex again. If it was up to him, with him still enthralled with her, he’d have sex every day, twice a day.
Retired for the past few years, as if time had suddenly stopped and they had stopped with it, they didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves and how to spend the time they had left. Other than to talk to their children on the phone occasionally and see their grandchildren less occasionally, they waved to their neighbors and rarely socialized with those friends and co-workers they had left behind. Having been a slave to their daily, weekly, and monthly routines for decades, now that they were retired, day in and day out, they did the same things at the same boring times every day.
* * * * *
Now that the kids were grown, married, and gone, and the grandchildren rarely visited them, it was just another quiet, empty day of sedentary life at Kathy and John’s house. With Monday melding into Friday, seemingly every day was suddenly Monday or Friday again. Every day was the quiet, empty same. Kathy sometimes had to look at her watch to remember the date or look at her computer to remember the day. Between the boredom and the medication, it was sometimes difficult for either of them to keep a thought in their heads. It was even more difficult to remember things the way they used to be and once were.
Back when she was working, it wasn’t like her to forget anything, especially not the day and/nor the date. She always prided herself on her efficiency and on her good memory. When she was working as a librarian in the library she was always too busy to notice the clock. Then, with her close to retirement and sitting behind a desk in an office instead of being out on the main floor and interacting with people, she always stared at the clock on the wall across from her.
‘Tick, tick, tick, tick…’
Because workdays seemingly felt so boringly long, she was always so conscious about the time. Now, with nothing to remind her of the time other than the ticking of her husband’s intrusively annoying, grandfather clock, sometimes forgetting about time, she wished time flew by like this when she was working full-time. She wished she had more time, more money, and more energy to do the things she always wanted to escort trabzon do, such as travel. Only, John was content to stay at home. With him always having to travel for work, he didn’t want to go anywhere anymore. The last thing he wanted to do was to go through security AGAIN and get on another plane.
‘Tick, tick, tick…’
When she was working outside the home, as if her life was recorded in slow motion, she always remembered the day, the date, and the time. With her busy with events and activities with her children as part of her daily life, she had plenty of reasons to remember days, dates, and times. Everything was written right there on her calendar on her kitchen wall. With special occasions so common, she could remember specific details of what she did on which day and at what time. Now with nothing to jog her memory and with her calendar clear of activities except for doctor, dentist, and hair appointments, her days were all the boring same.
Most days, had she not devoted her time to reading books, she was bored with her life. Lost in her books, she sometimes cared more about the lives of her fictional characters than she cared about her friends and family. Unless she had a doctor’s, dentist, or a hairdresser’s appointment, with special occasions so rare, she couldn’t even remember specific details of what she did on which day and at what time. With every day seemingly the same, none of those details stood out in her mind. They all morphed together in time as if they were one giant, endless day in her boring life.
When she was working, with her having so very much to do when she got home, there wasn’t enough hours in the day to finish everything. As if time sabotaged her life in quickly ticking by, with her running on autopilot most days, it wasn’t until she came home from work that the time suddenly flew by instead of slowly dragged. Conversely, when she was working at her job towards the end of her career and just before retirement, a strange phenomenon, time seemingly stood still. Then, once home, from the time that she left work to the time she went to bed, running out of time, she felt as if she was in a race to do all that she needed to do.
Then, before she even realized it, it was time to go to bed and time to get up again. It was time to shower, dress, make breakfast, get the kids off to school, and her husband off to work again before she left for work herself. In the way that she made the time to have sex to become pregnant with her children, now that she had all the children she wanted to have, she never had time to do anything for herself. Unless she took a day off or was on vacation, everything was always go, go, go.
‘Now that I’m retired and home alone with my husband,’ she wondered, ‘where did the time go? Where did the days go? Where did my life go? I’m suddenly old and tired when I used to be young and energetic,’ she thought. ‘When did that happen? Suddenly, ten years turned into thirty years.’
Other than being blessed with her children and grandchildren, never dwelling on it before, with her normally not having any regrets, she dwelled on her wasted life now. As if time was a ticking, time bomb, she wondered when she’d run out of time. She wondered when her ticking time of a bomb would finally stop ticking and detonate to explode the end of her life in a reverse big bang. In the same way that everyone else does, she wondered how much time she had left to live. With her not done with all the things she still wanted and needed to do, she wondered when she’d die before she wondered how she’d die.
‘Tick, tick, tick…’
She asked herself the same question that millions of people asked themselves when one year morphed into two years, five years blended into ten years, and twenty years became thirty years without anything to differentiate one year from the other. Car accidents, one of the kids breaking a bone, home sick with a fever, or her husband losing his job were all still fresh memories. Struggling to remember something positive about her life, other than the births of her children and grandchildren, and other than recent events in the news, she couldn’t remember anything positive that personally had to do with her. Obviously, she was depressed.
Now that she had nearly lived much of her life in ordinariness, if she could live her life over again, she’d more appreciate every minute of every day. If she could live her life over again, instead of blowing through everything during her busy day, she’d live her life at a much slower and relaxed pace. Instead of wishing for something else and/or for something better later, she’d take more time to enjoy the time she had now, even those ordinary, mundane days. With her always worried and wondering about tomorrow, her todays too quickly became yesterdays.
‘Tick, tick, tick…’
Whether it was good or bad, this was her life and her time on Earth. Yet, sometimes feeling that her life was nothing more than a video recording, because of all that she had to do during the day, she had lived too much of her life in fast forward. Having to deal with the daily drudgery of working outside her home, cooking, cleaning, and caring for her children, while trying to sexually satisfy her husband, there was never any time left for her. With everyone taking a piece of her, she had nothing left for herself.