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“A woman never sees what we do for her, only what we don’t do.”
“It’ll be wonderful when we’re married,” that’s what Jim used to say when we were engaged.
It was a long engagement and coming from a strict religious background there was no sex before marriage; a mistake, believe me.
Came the “Special Day;” Jim in his tail suit and me dressed up like a white poodle at a dog show. Well at least I was qualified to wear the virginal white.
This was it; at last I would get what I’d desperately needed for so long, or so I thought.
If I might resort to some imagery, I quickly discovered that sexually I was like a high powered sports car, but Jim was like a Yank Tank that had been given an eight horsepower engine — he was disastrously underpowered.
I could understand the first night when he couldn’t get it up; shyness, nerves, our lack of sexual experience, but by the third day he still hadn’t split my hymen. I had to resort to a doctor for a little operation to achieve that.
At last the pathway to Paradise was open. The trouble was, Jim didn’t seem to want to walk the path — or at least, his penis didn’t.
Optimistically I told myself things would improve; but they didn’t.
If, with considerable encouragement on my part, Jim got an erection and managed to penetrate me, once in the love canal his erection would wilt, or if it held fast, he’d go on shoving his length into me but end up not being able to ejaculate.
To make matters worse, there was no foreplay worthy of the name. At first I didn’t realise that there was such a thing as foreplay, but I learned from later experience. A Jim kiss was a pursed lips affair; he took no interest in my breasts, of which I was and am justifiably proud, and he never stimulated my vagina or clitoris.
As I discovered in theory more about the joys of sex I tried hand manipulating his penis and sucking it in the hope stirring it into life. I might just as well not have bothered.
Once I was foolish enough to get him to look at my genitals, opening the outer lips so he could see what was on offer. His reaction was one of horror and whatever pathetic sex life we’d had faded into nothingness.
There was one brief period when he did stir into life. He actually managed to ejaculate into me and I became pregnant.
Was this because he’d suddenly discovered my female beauty and desired to experience my lovely body? Oh no, it was because his parents had asked him when they could expect a grandchild. But then, he had always been an obedient son.
My hopes rose to new heights, surely now he would want to go on ejaculating into me. Hope was dashed. Once I announced my pregnant condition his penis went back into deep hibernation.
Now I have been very critical of Jim regarding his non-performance as a lover, but I must say something on the positive side.
We both worked; Jim as an accountant and me as a dental nurse. I know most women complain that although they go out to work, their husbands take no responsibility for the domestic work.
With Jim it was the opposite. He wanted to cook, clean, do the washing and the ironing, vacuum the carpets, bring me a cup of tea in bed every morning and on Saturdays he cleaned both our cars. None of this seemed to be a burden to him; in fact he reveled in it.
I was the envy of all the women in the street. To them Jim was the ideal husband, and I must add one more Jim quality, he was really nice looking with beautiful blue eyes and dark hair.
* * * * * * * *
If I might step aside from the main part of my story for a few moments, I’d like to tell you about a discovery I made.
Among his other negative qualities Jim would never go out with me to the cinema, theatre, restaurant or social gatherings. Once home from work, that was where he wanted to be, at home.
I took to going out with girl friends, and often, after a few glasses of wine they’d loosen up and talk about their sex lives. That’s how I made my discovery.
The world is made up of two types of women regarding sex. One half complains that their husbands demand too much sex, the other half complain that they don’t get enough sex. I was an extreme example of the latter group.
The solution seems simple. They sort themselves out so that everyone one gets the sex partner who can meet their needs, but of course, it’s not quite as simple as that. For example, in my case I’d need to find someone who not only gave me all the sex I needed, but who would do the housework as well.
There, that’s my little aside.
* * * * * * * *
In due season I gave birth to a son, Joshua. Despite suggestions I made to Jim about seeing doctor or going to a sex clinic about what I saw as his sexual dysfunction, he made no move to do so.
On one occasion when I made yet another effort to stir up some interest he commented, “You don’t want another child yet, do you?”
“No, not yet,” I replied “but…”
“Then güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri there’s no point in us engaging in sexual activity,” he said.
I was furious. How could anyone think like that these days with every one screwing everyone else? I told him I’d no longer sleep with him in the same bed; in fact I would not even sleep in the same room.
I thought that might shake into him some realisation, but it didn’t. He agreed with me and instead of me moving out of our bedroom, it was he who made the move. We had what was called, “The games room” in our back garden, and he turned that into his bedroom, and then spent most of his time out there. We were almost living in separate houses.
Listening to my girl friends I learned quite a lot about achieving satisfying sex. One result was that I purchased a dildo and vibrator and gratified myself to some extent with these.
Someone has said, “All things work together for good.” It was out of the death of my grandmother that good came. I was very fond of her, and when word got around the church that I was bereaved, I was visited by one of the elders, a respectable man, a bank manager, married with three children.
He came to consol me, and he consoled me to such good effect that soon we were naked and his penis was in my vagina.
He made further consolatory visits after that, and he might have proved to be my ideal lover, but for one defect, his breath stank. On the grounds that I feared my husband or his wife would find out about our activity I sent him on his way.
I’ve heard it said that if you commit murder once and remain undetected, then a second murder is more easy, then a third and fourth, and so on. The same seems to apply to adultery. Once you have committed adultery and not been found out, it’s easy to go on committing it, and certainly in my case it proved to be highly pleasurable.
Again I was on a learning curve. I chose as my targets middle aged men who belonged to our church on the grounds that I thought they would be the easiest targets.
I was not wrong. I do not wish to exaggerate or boast about my looks, but I was sufficiently attractive to capture initial interest.
The most effective approach was to take on a look of innocence — a little girl lost appearance, with wide open blue eyes (which I have), a fluttering of the eyelids, and perhaps a hint that all was not well between my husband and me, and I had them in my power.
As a tip to ladies who find themselves in a similar situation to me, I would say this; almost any woman can get fucked if she indicates that she’s available.
The point is, if your have, as I had, a satisfactory house husband who at the same time brings in a good income, then the sexual side can be dealt with quite easily if you go about it prudently.
I have it in mind to one day write a handbook for those who wish to engage in extramarital sex, pointing out the pleasures and the pitfalls.
So as a result of the death of my grandmother I embarked on a series of affairs with a number of men. I must say that at times I felt like a spider in the centre of its web catching insects and consuming them.
The length of time these affairs went on was based on my judgment of performance. The better the performance the longer the affair went on, but always there came a time to terminate and nine months was the longest.
The reasons for terminating varied. Sometimes it was because one or both of us found it was getting boring. At other times a wife became suspicious. The most difficult to terminate was when the man declared that he was in love me and wanted us to get together on a permanent basis. Some delicate handling was required in these circumstances.
* * * * * * * *
Let me be frank; my adulterous relationships were not based on love. They were based on what some people would call “Lust,” but which I prefer to call, “Mutual need.”
There is, however, that annoying aspect to us that tells us that we need to give and receive love. This giving and receiving of love I found elsewhere, specifically, with son Joshua.
Many mothers will know the joy of giving and receiving love from her child. That has little to do with her physical attractions. It is an emotional bonding that seems to hold them in a warm embrace.
If anyone doubts the power of the mother/son bond, then let them consider those men, wounded in battle and dying, who call out for their mother. Or consider the mothers who at the time of their son’s death, and although hundreds, perhaps even thousands of kilometres apart, are aware of his dying.
I had never discussed with Joshua the specific problems I had with Jim, but as he grew older he must have understood what our sleeping apart implied.
In addition Jim showed little interest in Joshua. It was not unlike his view that having fathered a child there was no need to go on having sex. Once the child was born Jim seemed to think he had served his purpose, and now it could güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri all be left to me.
I want to say here that I don’t think that Jim was deliberately unaffectionate, it was just that something seemed to be missing in his personality that left him unable to give, not simply sex, but emotional warmth as well.
To add to our family difficulties Jim started to drink. Like me he had been brought up in a teetotal family. The first time to my knowledge that he started to drink was at an office Christmas party.
To begin with it was just an occasional drink, but gradually it grew to many drinks, especially at weekends when he was perpetually drunk on cheap cask wine. There were times he drove to work on Monday when he must have been still well over the legal limit for driving. How he was never caught has always been a mystery to me. How he got through his work was also a mystery.
It was when Joshua was fourteen that Jim’s drinking was in full flood. If to some extent I had managed to keep the sex problems hidden from Joshua, the drinking problem couldn’t be hidden from him.
It was at this time I got my first clear insight into what Jim’s problem was, and it came as a shock.
Jim was an early riser. He would potter round the house or the garden for a while before bringing me my tea and preparing breakfast.
One morning I woke up earlier than usual and glancing out of the window I saw Jim standing in the garden, seemingly staring at something; the shock was that he was wearing some of my underwear — panties and bras. He is a fairly big man and the underwear was several sizes too small for him and he looked ridiculous. He had the bra cups filled with something which I later discovered were tennis balls.
Horrified I rushed out into the garden crying out, “What the hell do you think you’re doing…Joshua…the neighbours might see you?”
He looked at me quite coolly and said, “Do you think I look beautiful?”
I was beside myself with anger and dread that he might be seen, and I yelled out, “You look bloody ridiculous…you’re a freak, get inside before anyone sees you, and get dressed properly.”
Perhaps seeing him like that should not have been such a shock. I had noticed ever since we had married that items of my underwear were missing from time to time. Since Jim did the washing and ironing I’d asked him if he’d seen them, and he’d say something like, “I expect they’re around somewhere.” Now I knew where they were.
I know of course that these days one shouldn’t be troubled by such things. Jim was obviously a transvestite and there are plenty of women with transvestite husbands who even like their men to dress up in women’s clothes. I’ve even heard that some men can’t perform sexually if they aren’t dressed as women.
But for me, and despite my adulterous ways, the old church dictums about men not wearing women’s clothes, and women not wearing men’s clothes, still resonated. I felt sickened by Jim’s behaviour. Small wonder he’d been happy to remove himself to the games room, because there he could indulge his fetish in private.
Once I had seen him in my underwear Jim no longer tried to conceal it from me. He even went out and bought himself some women’s underwear that fitted him. As his drinking increased so he got more careless about who might see him dressed like that.
* * * * * * * *
Since Jim always refused to go out with me to the cinema, theatre or a restaurant I’d taken to having Joshua with me. One evening in the cinema his hand brushed against mine and stayed there. I found it very pleasurable but also disturbing because always easily sexually aroused I felt that ticking sensation in my clitoris. After that first time we always held hands in the cinema.
Crisis time with Jim came. It was on returning home after one such evening with Joshua that we found him slumped on the sofa, dressed in women’s underwear, looking ghastly.
“I’m passing blood,” he moaned, and with that he vomited and I could see it tinged with blood. I called for the ambulance and Jim was taken to hospital. It seems they have little time for alcoholics in general hospitals and he was sent home after a few days, having been admonished not to drink alcohol any more.
This was the first time Joshua had seen Jim dressed as a woman, and he seemed to take it in his stride. As I tried to explain he said, “It’s okay mum, there’s a lot of it about these days,” as if it was some sort of virus going round.
Jim stayed off the booze for all of one week. Soon he was back in hospital and then a drugs and alcohol clinic.
In the midst of all this I got another shock.
I had never pried into Joshua’s sex life. I knew from my point of view that the hand holding was something more than a mother and son touch. I also suspected that for Joshua too it was more than that. I am not sure whether it would ever have gone beyond that if it had not been for the coming into Joshua’s life of the divorcee güvenilir bahis şirketleri who lived down the road from us.
At this point I fully realised that Joshua was no longer my little boy, but a very potent young man.
She must have been in her early forties, and was handsome in a buxom sort of way, and had a well known penchant for initiating young men into the pleasures of the female body.
I was not so much shocked that Joshua started to pay her frequent visits, but at my reaction to those visits. I was jealous…angrily jealous.
Not to put too fine a point on it, this woman was getting what I wanted…wanted very dearly. I now openly admitted to myself that I wanted Joshua as my lover.
I could have reported her to engaging in sex with an underage boy, but dreaded how Joshua would feel about my curtailing what for him must have been a very pleasurable experience.
Certainly he lasted a lot longer than most of the other young men the divorcee had initiated. From that I took it that the pleasure was mutual, and this gave me some little consolation; when it came to sexual drive Joshua must have been taking after me and not his father.
The affair came to an end a little time after Joshua’s eighteenth birthday. I have never got the details of why it ended, but from the bits and pieces Joshua has let slip I think the gist of it was this; once he was over age the woman wanted Joshua to move in with her. Joshua had no desire to spend however long with her, and so she told him to go away and not come back.
I noticed that not long after the affair ended a gangly youth took up residence with her. He was unemployed and apparently unemployable, and so long as she could provide him with food, shelter and sex, she probably had a long term lover.
I think part of Joshua was relieved that the affair had come to an end, but another part of him regretted not having her to alleviate his sexual urges.
While the affair had been going on outings with Joshua had dropped to zero. Now it was over those outings were revived with great enthusiasm. It went beyond the hand holding, to my head on his shoulder, and when appropriate, his arm round my waist.
This was all very stimulating, but at the same time I was trying to cope with Jim. In my mind I had put together his domestic activities and his cross dressing, and come to the conclusion that Jim’s problem was that he wanted to be a woman.
Between bouts of drunkenness I questioned him about this. He admitted that this was indeed the case. After some rambling discussion we traced this desire to the fact that his mother had wanted him to be a girl.
Whether this was true or false mattered little really, because now Jim did want to be a woman.
With that out in the open we had to decide how, if at all, we would go on living more or less in the same house. One outcome of this talk was that Jim agreed he would take what was called, “The cure.”
This meant going to a place in a remote area, far away from temptation, and get dried out. This was not a short term thing. It could mean up to a year in residence or until the people running the place decided that the patient was ready to go back into the community.
That left Joshua and me together in the house.
* * * * * * * *
Danger time. During the chaos time with Jim my sexual tensions seemed to have declined. Now, with him safely ensconced far away my sex drive returned like an avenging angel; or should it be demon?
During the Jim chaos time physical contact with Joshua had become more explicit. I suppose I needed that sort of thing as a comfort and support.
Kisses that went beyond the filial; bodies that pressed close together so that at times I could feel his hard penis against my abdomen; a hand that brushed against my breasts and lingered for a few moments, all accompanied with words of love and praise for my beauty — which beauty I lay no claim to.
If anything it was Joshua who deserved the appellation beautiful, but of course it is not fashionable to say a man is beautiful. He had his father’s blue eyes and dark hair; he had grown taller than Jim, and he had my dark skin which always looked as if I had a sun tan — I think there must be some gypsy in me.
With the divorcee gone from Joshua’s life, and Jim gone for some time from both our lives, I knew what the possibilities were. The only questions that seemed to remain were first, did I want those possibilities fulfilled, and secondly, if yes, then how to go about it.
It was one thing to hook a middle-aged church going man who was tired of his dreary wife, but quite another to seduce my own son. Apart from anything else, I would be adding incest to adultery – not that the adultery aspect mattered a great deal since I now knew where Jim’s sexual predilections lay; but incest…?
Thus my answer was, “Yes, I do want to make my son my lover,” but the “How” question still remained unanswered.
With Jim now absent from our lives Joshua got a lot bolder with me. He took every opportunity to be near me and his language became more explicit. He did not stop at telling me how beautiful I am — which I have already partially denied — to saying I am sexy, which I do not deny, given how many guys had enjoyed me.
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