Like most people nowadays, I met my wife in the internet. A friend of a friend of a friend, she'd responded to a comment I made online. I replied to her comment, she replied back, and the next thing you know, we're chatting away. This went on for about 6 months before we actually met. Once we did, however, the date ended up in her bed. She loved to fuck, and especially liked 69ing. She sucked my dick with a passion when my tongue was going to town on her pussy.
After a few months, we moved in together. I should have taken the hint then, since the amount of sex halved immediately. Still, there was more than enough of it. After a year or two, we decided to get married. After marriage, the sex halved again. I made some comments, but she brushed them off. She said that we were getting older (she was 42 and I was 44) and sex always slows down with age. I disagreed, but there wasn't much I could do when all she did at night was climb in bed and fall asleep.
Eventually, it was a week or two between fucks, then a month. I complained, but she said that sex just wasn't important to her. She swore she loved me, but the physical stuff wasn't as interesting to her as it used to be. Our sex life died a little more, with sex only on "important days"....our anniversary, valentine's day, birthdays, and the odd vacations where I could ply her with enough alcohol. To add insult to injury, she didn't even really participate. She just laid there, spread her legs, and let me pound away. Jerking off was more interesting.
So, I was completely frustrated when I ran into an old friend, Cherie, at a local store. I'd met her at a part-time job I had when I was a junior in high school and actually introduced her to her future husband, Scott, who was one of my closest friends at the time. After graduation, they moved out of state and we intermittantly kept in touch, but miles and years had a way of making it more difficult to stay connected. I hadn't talked to them in probably 10 years.
Cherie was hot back in my high school days. Back then, she had a huge chest, slim waist, well rounded ass, long blonde hair. Age had mellowed her out a bit. The chest was still as big and tantalizing as I remembered, but the waist wasn't anywhere near as slim, and the curve of her butt was more downward than "well rounded". Still, she was still hot in my eyes, especially since I hadn't been laid in a couple of months.
It turned out that they had moved back to town, and actually lived a mile or two from me. She invited me and my wife over for dinner the following night. We exchanged numbers and went on our seperate ways.
I told my wife about running into Cherie, and she was totally blase about it. Dinner at Scott and Cherie's house was almost a disaster. While Scott and I traded stories about old times and caught up with each other's lives, there was frost between my wife and Cherie. Not that Cherie didn't try, but my wife would give the simplest answer to any of her questions. Eventually, Cherie gave up and joined in Scott and my conversations. My wife just sat there.
On the way home, I asked my wife what the hell was up with her. She just shrugged, saying that there was something about Cherie that didn't seem right. We argued, half-heartedly on my wife's part, but it was to no avail. She'd made up her mind that she didn't like Cherie and didn't like Scott all that much either.
A few days later, Scott called and said that he was having a barbeque for some friends that weekend, and asked if we'd come over. My wife gave me a sour face when I told her, and told me to go by myself. I relayed the news to Scott, who actually sounded a bit relieved when I said it was just going to be me.
The barbeque was a success without the chilling effect of my wife. I had a great time, but drank a lot more than I should have. At some point early in the evening, my wife called to tell me that she wasn't feeling well and was going to bed. I told her that I'd been drinking pretty heavily (not something I normally do) and might spend the night on Scott's couch. She made some half-hearted protest, then agreed it would be better than driving home drunk.
Eventually all of Scott's other guests left, and it ended up just me, him and Cherie in the living room, drinking, talking and laughing. I'd slowed down my drinking, and was actually starting to feel almost sober by the time that Cherie went and got a pillow and some blankets. They retired to their bedroom, and I got as comfortable as I could on the couch. As I dozed off, I could hear them talking, but couldn't make out what they were saying.
