Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. My wife and I have been married for 46 years. Before we were married, I had rare opportunities to have sex with men. Less than five times from the age of about 16 had I enjoyed the look and feel of a naked man lying next to me. I seemed to have more luck with the ladies, but being shy, it made heterosexual relationships awkward. It may have been because I was a bit immature, cause it wasn't that I lacked good looks. Many women have commented on how handsome I was.
When I was 23 and fresh out of the Army, I met my soon to be bride at an outdoor swimming pool at a local apartment complex. To me, at least, she was stunning. Slender and polite, petite yet somehow alluring. We hit it off almost immediately. Several weeks later, we began to sleep together in the second bedroom of her mother's apartment. Mom in one room, and my wife and I in the other.
I used condoms until she got on the pill. I'd call her after work, but mostly I slept with her on the weekends. My parents lived a few apartments away but it was a foul atmosphere at home. My mother was sick with cancer and my father was a heavy drinker. I also had two sisters sharing a bedroom, and I was relegated to the hide-a-bed in the living room. Not much in the way of privacy, we could hear my father and mother rustling or wrestling in their bedroom. My dad would take mom roughly I think, and mom would cry out in pain or in anguish. Once or twice, my father would come out into the kitchen and pass out. I woke him up a couple of times. I couldn't get any sleep, so I'd take off to my future wife's apartment when it was clear.
The wife and I had regular sex. Touching, deep kissing, mutual masturbation, and normal intercourse. At some point several years into our marriage, I felt the urge to do anal. It hurt her and she pushed me away. But I recalled how I felt when something or someone was nestled snug in my butt and would eventually get turned on. I found butt plugs, vibrators, and dildos to be most satisfying. Thus, at about 20 years into our marriage I began to harbor homosexual fantasies. Our son was born, my wife's mother passed away, my mom died and Dad remarried to what we refer to as our 'wicked step-mother.'
The step-mother kept the family at a distance wishing to keep my father to herself. They were right for each other - both heavy drinkers and sexually very active in bed. One of my sisters remained at home to be raised by this unholy duo. How she survived I'll never know. When she had the chance, she moved away as quickly as she could.
