Every story has a beginning and this one is no different. Perhaps this will provide an adequate introduction to what happened next.
When little I thought I was the only kid my age on the street. I'd been in school a couple of years and only saw much younger and much older kids but then one day I saw a girl my age and she lived six houses down from me and across the street. I had a baseball and glove and was tossing it into the air and running after it before throwing it up again. I saw her then watching me and she was smiling. She was a chunky girl and had just moved into the house but I liked her immediately.
It turned out she was a bit of a Tomboy and was good at everything we did after that. She could kick and throw at least as good as me and sometimes better. If she was wearing a dress she would go into the house and change into jeans before joining me and she was always happy it seemed.
When we entered puberty I noticed the development of her breasts and one day I laughed at her and she wanted to know why. I told her how much she bounced up front and I guess it hurt her feelings and she must have thought I didn't like them. She stopped seeing me for at least two weeks and avoided me in school but one day she was outside doing a chore her Mom had given her in the front yard. I bit my lip and walked up and volunteered to help.
She asked if I even wanted to be seen with a girl that had breasts. I gulped and explained that I really liked them and liked to watch them when she moved around. I told her she was the only girl in class that had them yet and I thought it was neat.
She finally smiled and asked if I really liked them. I told the truth because I really did.
That summer she came out and wasn't jiggling. She told me her Mom had bought her a training bra and it would keep her from bouncing anymore. I asked if she had to wear it at home and she said she did but that maybe sometimes she might forget to wear it when we were outside if I wanted. I felt better.
We went through school taking almost identical classes even through high school. In our junior year I thought about asking her to a school dance but after hearing some guy's remarks about fat girls I bowed to peer pressure I guess and didn't ask her. It became a habit of me thinking and wanting to ask her but then not doing it and then we both missed going to Senior Prom.
When we were out of public school we both attended community college and probably because my old group of guys wasn't around anymore I finally had the nerve to ask her if she'd like to go to a movie and she accepted with that same beautiful smile.
We finished community college and went on to a four-year school and we got closer together. I was always trying to "Cop a feel" and she'd scold me but I think she must have enjoyed it or just gave up on me because eventually she let me do it and even open her bra so that I could play. Her nipples were always perfect and I enjoyed them a lot. You can guess that finally I began rubbing her tummy and working lower.
When I got to close she would scold me again. One day she was wearing a skirt and while we were kissing I quickly slipped my hand under it touched her. She jumped and tried to push me away but I resisted and in a moment I was touching her. She stopped resisting then and I could tell she enjoyed it a lot. I learned what she liked and it seemed every time we were alone I was at it again.
And then another milestone when I finally pushed her hand down onto my perpetual hardness and she didn't pull it away.
It was months later yet it seemed before one late evening I tried to enter it into her. She giggled and pushed me away but kept her hand stroking me. I tried again each time for the next few weeks and then finally one night as I held her hands I managed to get it part way in and it was obvious that she enjoyed it.
We'd both been raised in strict homes and so we had pretty strict ideas of what was wrong and what was right.
I finally proposed to her and we were married during Christmas break from school just one semester from graduation.
We moved in together and lived in an apartment for seven years while we worked. Our Honeymoon had been a straight Missionary approach to sex and although our sex was frequent and sometimes twice a day during the week we'd up it to three times during weekend days.
After our first four years sex became less frequent and in some ways less satisfying I suppose.
We moved into a house after our tenth anniversary and it seemed we only had sex once or twice a month. I could tell she wasn't nearly into it anymore. It seemed she was bored and just going through the motions.
We worked at different companies in opposite directions from home and so we didn't see each other at lunch. I began eating lunch at fast-food places like McDonalds instead of carrying a lunch.
I had my own laptop computer with a wireless Internet connection .even though I could have used McDonalds free Wi-Fi if I'd tried.
I hadn't turned on the anti-pop-up of my browser only because at that time I didn't know it was there and pop-ups were always bothering me. Some were simple advertisements but it seemed one day that there were more and more porn sites and I'd never visited one although I sometimes read Blogs that intrigued me.
The blogs I read regularly were based on technology and included interchanges between visitors and the owner of the blog. One guy made an interesting point on a Blog's topic but at the bottom he'd left a personal inquiry about whether the owner had ever visited and read any of the stories at a particular site.
I went to that site because I was curious and picked a story at random.
Perhaps that day I was feeling particularly randy but when the story opened I read it completely but also found that the site was a source of interesting erotic stories. I felt a little guilty but after that I read many and those I read were all written by women. I wasn't interested in what any of the guys wrote.
It was enlightening to me to find that women were quite explicit about sex, what they participated in and what they enjoyed most. I'd heard vague references over the years when around other guys but I'd never stay around to listen much because they're remarks didn't intrigue me and the points I'd heard were mostly discarded as fantasy from the guy telling the story.
I didn't think the stories I read that day and subsequently over the next weeks were written by guys masquerading as woman writers. I'd thought they couldn't have all been impersonators and as a result my knowledge of the female attitude and participation in sexual events expanded exponentially.
One day I'd almost finished an interesting story but had to return to work before the end. That afternoon when I got home I found it and sat in the driveway as I finished it.
When I got into the kitchen my buxom wife was standing at the sink peeling potatoes and fixing dinner. She didn't even look my way as I walked up behind her although I heard her mutter "Hello."
I looked at her and she was dressed in an old skirt and blouse that she'd changed into after work and before I got home. She looked good in that scooped neck blouse and the skirt was a bit shorter than she normally wore to work.
