My Wife is No Longer My Lover Ch. 03

If she could live her life over again but in slow, thoughtful motion, sad for her to admit the truth, Kathy probably wouldn't have married her husband, John. Obviously, with him wanting sex, especially a blowjob, and with him too kind, gentle, and sensitive of a man to force her to give him what he so wanted and what she so needed, she had married the wrong man. Now that she admitted that to herself, if only he forced her to give him sex, she'd give him sex. Yet, how could she tell him that without her coming across as being a whore? With him never figuring that out himself, she wondered how different her life would have been had she married someone else.

Even though she thought about being with another man when she was younger, she couldn't even conceive the thought of being with someone else now. Not that she was happier now, she wasn't, and not that she was unhappy now, she wasn't, but she had gotten used to the idea of living out the rest of her life as best as she could and until death do you part. Sadly for him but not for her, they lived more like brother and sister than they did husband and wife, that is until the ugly inconvenience of sex and him begging her for a blowjob interfered with their marriage.

Living vicariously through the authors' words, she fulfilled whatever else she wanted and needed by reading her books, mostly romance novels. With Kathy having experienced all the sex she could possibly ever want before she was married and through reading her romance novels now, sex and the lack thereof loomed larger in John's mind than it did in her mind. Had she married someone else, she wondered if they'd expect her to give them sex, especially blowjobs, in the way that John expected her to give him sex and blowjobs. No doubt, they would. Yet, they'd be more of a man about it than John ever was. Perhaps, they'd force her to give them sex.

Embarrassed by her secret, by her sexual weaknesses, and by her fantasies of wanton, sexual desire, she never told her husband that if he was more forcefully aggressive with her that she'd give him all the sex he could handle. How would he know that she'd be his sexual slave and his sexy slut if she didn't tell him? Yet, with him an aggressive man and her a submissive woman, he should know such things that when a woman says no, she was really saying yes. Yet, he wasn't an aggressive man and she wasn't a submissive woman.

If ever he wanted to learn more about her, her diary was there in plain sight to read, if only he'd open it and read it. Yet, too respectfully considerate, never mind forcing her to have sex, he wouldn't even harbor the thought of reading her diary. Only, with her not wanting him to think her a whore, rather that he thinks of her as a shyly retiring librarian, she'd never initiate sex, especially in that vulgar way that she initiated sex before with men she didn't even know.

If only he was more of a brut of a man than a gentleman and forced her to stroke his cock and/or suck his cock, she'd stroke his cock and/or suck his cock. If only he'd hold her head in place with a heavy hand, she'd even allow him to cum in her mouth and swallow his cum. Only, with her continuing to play the part of the morally modest, religious, and eternal virgin, how could she ever tell him that she needed to be forced? How would she even explain how she knew that she needed to be forced, stripped naked, and raped?

With him the man and her the woman, it was up to him to know such things but he'd never force her to do what he sexually wanted her to do and what she gladly would have done. If only he knew about her sexual past, but with some things better off left unsaid, she wondered what he'd say that his wife lived the life of a whore. If he felt rejected now that she didn't give him sex, imagine how he'd feel knowing that she was once a whore who gave everyone sex.

With her lustful, sexual thoughts written in her diary there by the side of the bed for him to read, even though he knew where her key was, he obviously never read her diary. Obviously, in the way that she never invaded his privacy when he was surfing the Internet while masturbating himself, he'd never invade her privacy by reading her personal, private thoughts. If they were anything, except for when it came to sex, they were considerate of one another's feelings and respectful of one another's privacy.

Obviously, in the way that she had sexual secrets, he had sexual secrets too. With neither of them prying the other to confess their sordid, sexual past, obviously in the way that she didn't care about his sexual secrets, he didn't care about her sexual secrets. No doubt, his sexual secrets had to do with voyeurism and peeping where her sexual secrets were had to do with sex with a exhibitionism and having sex with a multitude of men.

Now, when she rarely had sex with her husband, she couldn't even contemplate having sex with someone else. For sure, she would have had a better marriage if it wasn't for her wimpy husband's pathetic pleas for sex, especially when begging her for a blowjob. Had he been more of a man and taken what he wanted by slapping her around, ripping off her clothes, and forcing her to her knees, he could have had a sexy, submissive, sexual bitch instead of his equal. As far as she was concerned, with sex off the table and out of the marriage equation, she'd feel less pressured and would be much happier if John didn't expect her to give him sex ever again.

As are with most married couples, even though most of their arguments were about money, their arguments all ended up with them fighting over sex or the lack thereof. His anger was more about her not wanting sex and her not blowing him. With religion and God interfering with their marriage and prohibiting their divorce, he made her feel as if she was a retired nun. Instead he needed to make her feel like the whore she was and always would be. If only he'd force her, she'd give him what he so wanted. If only he'd forced her, she'd fuck him and suck him.

With sex dependent upon the man most times, if it was up to John, he'd have sex every day, twice a day, morning and night. If it was up to her, now that the children were born, and with him so milk-toast, she'd never have sex, especially not with him, ever again. Even when she was in the mood for sex, which seldom she was, always so very tired, she didn't have time for sex. Now that she was retired, she didn't have the energy for sex.

With him always walking around with an erection and her always wearing a robe over her nightgown, the last thing she wanted was sex, especially from him. The last thing she wanted was to be reminded of making a mistake in marrying the wrong man. Thinking more about the thought of being married to another man now, she could have had sex with better men. She could have had sex with men who were much taller, more successful, in better physical condition, much better looking, and who no doubt had bigger cocks than John. She could have had sex with men who were more domineering and who'd give her what she needed and wanted.

Only, a question she'd never know the answer to, would they have been a better man in providing for her, in being kind to her, and in being faithful to her, than her present husband? With John such a good father to their children, would another man be as good a father as he was. She didn't know nor would she ever know. Obviously, a mystery that would die with her sexual secrets, she'd never know the answer to that those questions. Surely, a mystery she'd take with her to her grave, being married to her dream man was something she'd never know, other than those men in her romance novels.

Yet, not fair to blame him for everything, she lived as a free woman and could make her own decisions, especially when it came to who to marry, the house, the children, and their finances. Indeed, she didn't have to marry him but she did. At the time, he was a kind, thoughtful, and sensitive man. A good man, he had a good career as a certified public accountant and he didn't drink or smoke, the things that were very important to her.

Moreover, foretelling her that he'd be a good father, she saw how he interacted with her friends' children. He liked animals too and shared her love for reading. For sure, there was something seriously wrong with someone who didn't like children and/or animals. She'd never marry a man who didn't have a kind heart to love helpless animals and loving children.

What he lacked in a sexual attraction for her and with sex the last thing she wanted anyway, with her having already been there and done that, he made up for in many other ways. Even though he was a good man, albeit a sexually perverted man, he wasn't a very attractive man. Odd that she'd marry such an unattractive man when she had sex with so, very many good-looking men. Marrying John was as if he was her excuse to no longer have sex. She needed to marry someone like him to curb, control, and end her sexual addiction.

A gentle man and a gentleman, he was kind, loving, thoughtful, and generous. Always taken in with her beauty, especially with him so average looking, he felt blessed to be married to such a good-looking woman. With him doing everything he could to please her, John was the one not happy in the marriage and not her. If it were not for sex getting in the way, she'd be completely content. If it was not for sex getting in the way, they'd both be happier.

Even if she didn't need as much sex as he wanted, he was obviously always proud to be seen in public with her on his arm. He was obviously always proud to introduce her as his wife and as the mother of his children. In the way that other men stared at her while admiring her beauty and sexually lusting over her while staring at her sexy and shapely body, he still sexually lusted over her too. Why wouldn't he still sexually lust over Kathy when he seldom had sex with her? The problem was, in the way that she never sexually lusted over him, he never stopped sexually lusting over her.

Perhaps he suspected that she needed him to be more of a man and a better man, but he didn't have that in him to force his sexual desires on her, especially with his proclivity for masturbation. Obviously, with him treating her as if she his queen, a delicate flower, and his precious jewel, he loved her too much to be sexually aggressive with her. The last thing that he wanted was her seeing him as the pervert that he still was. In the way that he loved watching his porn videos while masturbating as his sexual outlet and release, sadly and sexually frustrating for her, he could never treat her as his personal, private porn star.

### Susan Jill Parker -- A retired librarian living a boring life with a retired accountant ###

With Kathy not doing anything for herself, a typical librarian, she was a quiet person and lived a somewhat reclusive life. After having been on the run for years, she now preferred not to leave the solitude of her home and had John run all the errands while she complained of this ache and that pain. Now that she was retired and too tired to want to do anything for herself, she couldn't help but feel that she wasted her life working in the house and outside the house. For forty-years of her life, all she did was work. When she wasn't working inside the house, she was working outside the house. Work and more work, a lifetime of work, all she remembered doing was repetitive work.

Work, work, and work, her work overshadowed any playtimes and good times that she had when she was young and carefree before she was married with children. When she reflected on her life, what she thought about more than anything else was her work inside the house and outside the house. Other than visiting neighbors on the weekends or having her family and friends over her house for the holidays, she had more memories of the drudgery that seemingly was most of her life. No doubt, she felt that lethargy because she was married to John and not to someone who was more excitingly active.

Obviously, by the negative outlook that she had of her life now, she was as depressed as she was unfulfilled. Still not as depressed as John was, she'd never be as morbidly depressed as her husband. John was suicidal long before they met and confessed that he had twice tried to kill himself when he was younger. With him in group therapy until just a few years ago, he took anti-depressants for years. Not only was he still as depressed as he was in his younger days, with him masturbating every day, sometimes multiple times a day, he was still just as horny and just as sexually frustrated as he was 50-years ago.

Maybe had she married someone else, imagining traveling more, her life would have been different. Maybe had she married another man, imagining not having to work outside of the house, her life may have been better. She thought of other men again while running down the list of available men she was interested in and/or she had dated before dating John. Always surprised to learn of their interest in her, with her thinking less of herself than others thought of her, she ran down the list of men, who were now all married, and who were once so infatuated with her.

Maybe had she married someone else, she wouldn't be as sad, depressed, and as sexually frustrated as she felt now. Maybe had she married someone else, she wouldn't be reading about someone else's adventures but living her own. Maybe had she married someone else, she would have been happier and felt more fulfilled. Maybe she should have married an older man, someone with money. Had she married an older man with money, he'd be dead by now and she'd be a wealthy, merry widow with money enough to spoil her children and her grandchildren while traveling the world.

Back then, so busy with work and caring for her children, her husband, and the house, and with her sexual past feeling like a lifetime ago and sometimes feeling as if it never happened, she lived for the weekends. Now, as if stuck in a time warp, the Twilight Zone of old, every day seemed the boring same. When she was working outside of the house at her job, it always seemed as if her workweeks were too long and her weekends too short. Now that she's retired, whether weekday or weekend, every day felt the boring same.

She was always surprised that it was Monday instead of Saturday or Tuesday instead of Sunday. With the workweek dragging on, where did the weekends go? Now that she's retired, unlike some of her friends who don't even go out for a walk, but for her arthritis flaring up with the dampness, she was glad that she still had her good health to soak in the sunshine. With her always active, she never thought she'd be hiding in her house in the way many of her friends and neighbors do. Now, as if she's a recluse living a reclusive life, she's content sitting on her couch reading.

Yet, if she knew her retirement would be like this, so empty and so boring, she would have better financially planned for her golden years. Only, with her retirement years always seemingly so very far away and never seeming real, there was always a real need for whatever money they saved to spend now instead of saving for later. Not that they were poor, they weren't; they were comfortable. Yet, she would have loved to have had the money enough to travel and to cruise the world. At least she had her memories of her wild and sexy promiscuous days. She was glad that she had some fun sowing her wild, sexual oats when she was younger.

Still instead of or in addition to just reading about other countries, she would have loved to have gone to all the faraway places she read about in her books, Africa, Asia, New Zealand, Iceland, Australia, even Alaska, and now Cuba. From foods, customs, and traditions, there were so very many places in the world that she would have liked to have visited and experienced. There were so very many things she would have enjoyed instead of just spending time in the backyard gardening and sitting at home reading.

She wished John was more adventurous but boringly content to stay at home too, he never caught the traveling bug. Besides, with him always so sadly depressed, he's not well. When he's not mentally depressed, always listlessly tired, he's not physically well. It takes whatever energy he had to run the errands and do the food shopping. She never liked shopping for food but he did. She suspected that he loved food shopping as his way of not only sneaking junk food in the house but also to leer at women. Giving him plenty of fodder for his masturbation, between down-blouse views and up-skirt peeks, women weren't always careful with their decorum, especially when food shopping at such an innocuous place as the supermarket.

Only, traveling to faraway places was much safer back then than it is now. Now with terrorism, terrorists, and airport security with drug dogs and police with automatic weapons, traveling now wasn't the same today as it was back then. Back then, as if they were attending a formal gathering, everyone dressed up to board a plane. Now, with no one having respect for anything, even the office of the president, people boarded the plane dressed like beach bums.

Even though she would have loved to travel, even with her an exhibitionist, nothing sexually stimulating about that, she would never dare bare to expose herself by walking through that invasive TSA X-ray machine. Moreover, with her now not very sexual, she could never allow a female, travel security agent pat her down and touch her in places that she hasn't allowed her husband to touch her in years. How dare they put people through that just to get on a plane? In violation of our rights of dignity and privacy, it's ridiculous and un-American to be forced to be so publicly violated.

Surely, there must be a better, less offensive, and less invasive way to check for weapons of mass destruction. Not only do they invade the privacy of every man and woman getting on a plane, they even pat down old women and children, as if they'd be a threat. Perhaps TSA should be more like the Post Office. Instead of checking every package before mailing it, the Post Office just asks what's in your package.

Then, there's the crowds waiting to get their boarding passes and the people hurrying from one gate to get to another gate for a flight that was cancelled. There's the long lines waiting to go through security. There's indirect flights with multiple stops, the frustrating inconveniences of being stuck waiting while the plane sits on the tarmac, and then there's the cancelled flights. God forbid anyone complains about the lack of customer service when flying the unfriendly skies, you'll be summarily dragged from the plane, beaten, arrested, and put on a no-fly list.

The horror of lost baggage is more of a reality now than ever before. The violation of baggage employees stealing personal possessions from suitcases pose more of a threat than terrorists and are more of a reality now than ever before. What used to be a pleasure when flying on a plane had morphed into a major nightmare of frustration, aggravation, and inconvenience.

Yet, even with her life as it is now, being retired and not working wasn't a bad life but it was a quiet, sedentary one. When doing the same things at the same time every day, quiet and sedentary quickly become boringly tedious and frustratingly tiring. A big adjustment from having to get washed, dressed, and doing her hair and makeup every day to face the public, now she was comfortable hanging around the house in her nightgown, bathrobe, and slippers until noon.

After working as a librarian for more than forty-five-years and interacting with all sorts of people, she enjoyed the tranquility of her new life. Other than her friends, neighbors, and family, if she never had to interact with another person again, she'd be happy. With the lunacy of the mad rush of people that flooded the library daily to ask stupid questions, content to stay at home and read, if she never had to go out again, she could do that too. If she never had to answer another dumb question or help a stranger find another book, she was okay with that.