Thanks again to Todger65 for his editing assistance. I review everything I write multiple times and I always miss a lot of stuff. A good editor is priceless.
I take alcohol addiction very seriously in this, or any story I write.
A Bigger Bed
A couple finds a way to reconnect
I am Jack and am married to beautiful Cynthia. In the five years we have been married she has always been open in the bedroom with me, just not adventurous outside of it. There is an exception. When she has had a few glasses of wine, usually three, she loses her inhibitions and turns into a sexual animal. Nothing is off the table and her inner slut does not just rise, it leaps into the air and screams for attention.
Alcohol affects folks in a variety of ways. Most of those ways are obvious, but in some people, alcohol flips a switch. Their personality changes dramatically. Often the change is not flattering or in the best interests of those around them. I had an uncle that enjoyed a beer or two. The problem was that as soon as the smallest amount of alcohol entered his system, he turned into a family beating thug. Similar horror stories abound.
Cynthia did not get angry, she got horny. Somewhat like my uncle, it took little alcohol to get her going. She was also oblivious to the reaction she was getting from her drunken conversations. What that means is that she did not realize that the words she was saying could be easily misunderstood. I lost count of the number of times I had to save her from her own words. Words that would have resulted in her being in a situation that she would have certainly regretted the next day.
The point is that she was a loving wife, dedicated to me, and would never entertain the idea of fooling around. We did talk about swinging. When she was sober, the entire idea disgusted her. I learned early not bring the subject up because the result would be hours of discussion revolving around her not being enough for me, or that she must be a horrible wife, etc.
I would do my best to reassure her she was all I needed. I would not have asked in the first place, but she had brought the subject up the night before when she was drinking.
Typically, we would go out, have a few drinks, and when she got horny, we would go home and have fun. I have to say the sex was amazing when she lost her inhibitions. It was almost worth the constant vigilance while we were out.
I want to be clear. I did not hover over her because of jealously. I watched over her because I knew that she would hate herself if she let herself be compromised.
Life was good until I got cancer. I did not have chemo or radiation. What I did get was a major surgery that took almost a year to recover from. I slipped into a deep depression. Insult was added to injury when the medications I required made it impossible for me to get an erection.
Two years passed without sex for either of us. Eventually I was weaned off the medications, but the damage was done. We no longer knew how to connect. When we tried it felt like we were forcing our way through it instead of enjoying it. Soon apathy set in.
We loved each other without a doubt. Counseling did not help for several reasons. We are both smart people and cynics. We could see right through a counselor that spewed the same crap they tell everyone. Add to that the fact that Cynthia felt going to counseling was a sign of insufficient internal fortitude. She felt that if a person was tough enough, they could force their way through any issue.
To make matters worse, she had started drinking at home. She would drink, get horny, and try to get me horny. I could not rise to the occasion and would resist her advances because of that. The result would be both of us feeling horrible. Even with the aid of little blue pills, when I got an erection, it would go away before anything could happen.
Masturbating took me hours. I would sit in front of the computer looking for any kind of porn to get me going. Hour after frustrating hour until I had spent the entire night just trying to reach one orgasm. She would see me in the morning, obviously exhausted, and ask if I had managed to make it happen.
I understood her frustration, her loneliness, and her need to fix things. I just did not know what to do. I could not make things the way they used to be. I had hope for the future, but I had no idea how to make that future real.
It is important to understand that we had a wonderful sex life before cancer. Our bodies melded together as if they were meant to touch. It did not matter if we were making love or just have fun fucking, it was always good. Countless times it was much better than good.
Cynthia is a beautiful woman. Long legs, pert b cup tits, nice ass, the list is endless. Her long brown hair hangs well below her shoulders. She gets plenty of stares when we leave the house.
I have been told that I am not bad. I have blue eyes, blond hair, and well-defined muscles. I am better endowed than most. When it works. I have often thought that if the two of us made a porn video there would be no lack of viewers.
We were stuck, without an easy answer to our situation, and a cloud of despair hovering over both of us. One thing we knew and held on to. No matter what happens, we love each other. After all that has happened, I still feel the same. I know that she does too. Now, even more than before.
The Bar and Grill
It had been a day, in the sense that at least it was Friday and finally over. I had a ponderous day at work and Cynthia had an insane one. Neither of us wanted to cook. Letting someone else cook for us while we sipped a nice beverage was by far the most attractive decision.
We have a favorite local bar and grill we have been visiting since the day after we got married. We are, in the bar terminology, referred to as Regulars. That can be a bad thing if, by Regular, you mean they get drunk every day in the same place. We are the kind of Regulars a bar likes to have. We tip well, we know the staff, we like the staff, and they like us. We spend time with many of them outside of the bar. Their kids have been to our house.
To a large degree, all the regular folks that came in were good people. On any evening most of the bar will be married couples with a smattering of single people. The married people are almost always regulars. Many of the singles are as well. Some come on certain days of the week only, or at a certain time, etc. It was fun when couples changed their day or time thus running into new couples. It is a kind of shift work. Except the workers did not work every day and the shifts are damn odd.
We were too late for the dinner rush, thank goodness, and too early for the late rush, even better. The center of the place was a "U" shape bar. We always sat at the bar and did not much care where, except if it was behind the draft box or next to the mixing station. This evening we sat near the corner. I was at the round end and Cynthia was to my left. Two seats to my right, at the bottom of the "U", sat a gentleman that came in when he was in town. He worked projects and would stay in town for a few weeks then return home for a break.
Leslie was tending bar and smiled when she saw us come in. Leslie is amazing. She is a rock star of a bar tender, a wonderful person, and is totally unaware of how fucking hot she is. Cynthia and I both admire her as a person. I try extremely hard not to step on my dick in front of both. I do that by not telling Leslie the things I would like to do to Leslie. Assuming I could.
I talk, a lot. I cannot help it. I like to talk. If a stranger sits at the bar and looks sociable, I will talk to them. I like to make people laugh and I like it when they make me laugh. It is because I am a talker that I must watch what I am saying closely when I am around Leslie.
I will start flirting with her if I am not careful. That could go sidewise in a hurry. Cynthia has not had sex in forever and I am flirting? That would be mean, and I am not mean to Cynthia. I understand that my little brain has its own thoughts, and they could get me in trouble.
I do not intentionally flirt. I think if I tried to flirt, I would fail miserably. What I am is married to a woman I will always love. I am no longer "on the hunt" so, I talk to other women without an agenda. Occasionally a woman will be drawn to a guy like that and they respond in a friendly way.
Some women are drawn to the bad boys who are in some narcissistic battle with the world. Usually only once, then they know better. Others are drawn to guys that have faced what the world has thrown at them and have learned to thrive in it. There is an inner strength in them that bad boy does not usually possess. Some women find that attractive.
Leslie had our wine poured and set our glasses in front of us as we sat down. Leslie is a petite, green eyed, brunette. She keeps her hair in a pixy cut that gives her a schoolgirl look. When you look downward, it becomes readily apparent that she is not a schoolgirl. She is slim but swells wonderfully in just the right places. The body shirt she is wearing is well made. I can tell she is not wearing a bra, but I cannot tell if she is happy to see me. A painted-on pair of dress slacks reveal that her round little butt is very firm. I have often fantasized about her "O" face.
Leslie handed us menus and we said our hellos. She and Cynthia got into some discussion that not only did not require my attention but also would be better off without it.
I turned to John at my right," Hey John, in town for a while?"
"Yes, three weeks this time."
