A few months ago, something changed between my wife and me. Changes for the better... I think.
Okay, so here goes. It could be said that it all began before I was even aware it was happening. But the pieces began falling into place a few months before my birthday and the big surprise party my wife would throw for me. (More on that later.)
My reasons for sharing this with anyone -- especially men in a similar situation -- are two fold: Accept your deficiencies and use them to your advantage; And most importantly, do whatever it takes to satisfy your wife's wants and needs. After all, that IS the loving thing to do.
Learn from my experiences and you will be rewarded in more ways imaginable.
Before I go any further I should give some background. First, Marie, my wife may not be a super model contender. However, standing at 5'-8", with firm C-cup breasts, narrow waist, and a plump but not fat ass, she can still turn a man's head. All-in-all, she's got a very curvy figure. And I can't leave out that she has loveliest, most expressive face with possibly the most perfectly proportioned eyes, nose, and mouth. Oh, and those lips are to die for.
As for me, well, I should start by letting you know that I think about sex all the time -- as in: around the clock. Unfortunately, I just don't have the hardware nor the endurance to match my desires.
Some time ago I noticed that I am NOT what anyone would call "well endowed." This became apparent to me in high school. Guys my age were developing into men, but I wasn't.
Despite the fact that I am 6'-1" tall, wear 11E shoes, and have fairly large hands with prominent middle fingers, my erections don't match those stats. At under one-and-a-half inches thick, and just over four inches long, my "thing" is nothing to boast about.
(It's almost laughable, if not depressing, to think that there is probably some cloistered monk with no sexual desires, chanting away in a monastery with my foot-long hidden under his heavy robe. And somehow I'm stuck with his worthless little-boy wiener.)
When Marie and I first met it quickly became obvious that her appetite for sex could put mine to shame! After all, she had already been intimate with something like a dozen men and still counting. I may have been sex obsessed for as long as I can remember. But my sexual encounters paled in comparison to hers.
In the midst of our second romp in bed she told me how surprised she was about my "total lack of equipment." She went as far as to say, "Let's get something straight. To call your thing a cock in an insult to real cocks. What you have is a dick. A little dick at that." Naturally, her words stung. But rather than breaking the mood, it only drove me to find other ways of pleasing her.
Luckily for me, after about six months of non-exclusive dating (she was still going out with other men) she fell in love with me anyway. (Obviously, there is more than sex for making a good, loving couple.) As for me, I was already head-over-heels in love with her. Engagement and marriage soon followed.
While down on bended knee asking her to marry me, I made it a point to emphatically profess my love for her and my total commitment to our marriage and her happiness. From that moment on we were exclusive to one another.
Indecently, the sex between us picked up dramatically.
When it came to satisfying Marie's needs, penetrative sex (fucking) gave way to a greater reliance on oral sex (licking) for getting the job done. There was still fucking. (usually) But it was far more for my benefit than hers. The main thing to remember is, when my wife needed an orgasm, I never neglected my responsibility for having my tongue at the ready. No matter when or where, pleasuring Marie takes priority over all else.
Something else gradually introduced itself into our love making. It didn't happen often, but sometimes, while heavily into foreplay, she would 'let slip' some random little detail of one of her former sexual encounters. It was strange, but when she did, I would get even more aroused, then work even harder at pleasing her. Marie seemed amused by my interest in hearing of her earlier exploits and certainly enjoyed the added attention I gave.
However, after our daughter was born seven years ago, Marie's desire for sex diminished significantly. Sex between us settled into a routine of about two, maybe three times a month. Meanwhile, my sex-drive was stronger than ever. Years earlier, I had learned how to overcome the natural drop in libido after orgasm. My erections still faded, though not as quickly, but my drive stayed in tacked. I remained horny after cumming. This slowdown of sexual relations meant that relief was left in my own hands. Oddly, my best orgasms occurred while masturbating to stories Marie had told of her wilder, single days.
Eventually, this led to dreaming of my wife returning to her former wilder ways. For her to eagerly get-it-on with at least one more well hung stud. I found myself craving to see my wife beaming in the afterglow of hot, satisfying sex.
This desire for her to get fucked like she hadn't been fucked in years grew and continued intensifying to the point of obsession.
So on the eve of our tenth wedding anniversary I had some flowers and a card sent to the house.
In the card I had written something that few other husbands would... I told my wife that I would understand and support her decision if she should ever decide she needed to have sex with another man. To once more experience a larger cock than mine.
In actuality, over the years while we were both in the heat of passion during our lovemaking, these were ideas I had playfully whispered as a follow-up whenever she reminisced of past lovers. Admittedly, at the time, I was saying these things only half halfheartedly. At least that's the way it started.
Somewhere around two years ago, I began hinting more aggressively about the subject. All the while, keeping in mind that if a wife hears her husband telling her that she needs to see other men, often that will be interpreted that he is looking to having an affair for himself. And that was never my intention. So when those hints failed to go anywhere, while choosing my words carefully, I resorted to more strongly suggesting that I'd be okay if she had a little fling.
Now, ten years on, I was serious. As such, I had actually committed these ideas to paper. In a sense, for a ten-year anniversary present, I was giving my wife a "Permission Slip" to cheat. There was only one stipulation, should she actually follow through, it must not be kept secret. I expected to be told immediately afterwards.
When I got home from work I was greeted with a big kiss and a thank you for the flowers. But she said nothing about the card.
