Hello. My name is James and, as you may know, my wife and I have something of an open marriage. Rita has described her affairs at length in these pages and even I find her confessions shocking at times. You might pity me. Maybe you envy me. More likely you look down on me. If so, you probably don't know my wife. She is a wonderful woman, smart and accomplished, and an absolute bombshell in bed. Like Beanie says in Old School, do you have any idea how hard it is to land a girl as sexually enlightened as she is?
I know a lot of you take the vows of matrimony very seriously, which is fine... for you. Again, like Beanie, I congratulate you. You get one vagina for the rest of your life. That would have been my life had my first marriage not imploded. I didn't intend to get married again. In my observation, the sex dries up not long after you put a ring on it. Better to hook up, shack up if you must. But then I met Rita and everything changed.
I remember like it was yesterday, that lunch at the L'Amour Steakhouse when she tearfully confessed to having been seduced by that smirking intern. I played it cool but I'm not going to lie. It hurt, especially when I consider that if he had called her back she would have gone to him and I'd be out. I was pleased when she agreed to sleep with me that afternoon. Honestly, I intended to have my way and kiss her goodbye. Obviously, that's not what happened.
I sleep with some very beautiful women, young women. It's easy to forget that these women aren't so much attracted to me as interested in what I can do for them. That doesn't bother me, as long as I get what I want. But that afternoon in the suite of the Continental, and that night and the next morning, my future second wife treated me to such a sexual smorgasbord that I couldn't let her go.
What really made it unique was that she truly enjoyed being with me. Or, to be more precise, she truly enjoyed the pleasure of lovemaking and was genuinely happy to be sharing it with me. It was a pleasure I hadn't experienced since I was in my twenties. I knew then that I had to do whatever it took to lock her down, even if it meant marrying a woman of questionable morals.
It would be different if she had always been that way. I imagine in that case she'd be pretty used up by the time she was forty. But as a young woman she was a typical tight-assed debutante. Then her limp-dicked husband kept her on a shelf for twenty years. Finding her was like discovering a rare sports car under a blanket in a barn. True, she occasionally lets another driver take it for a spin. But I hold the title and she parks in my garage.
And it would be different if she was always on the make. But no, after her first one-night stand she was on her guard against the quick and easy casanovas. If you want in her panties you have to make a case for yourself, let her know how bad you want her. She might give you encouragement. She might not. Then, when you least expect it, she pounces and she's out of your life. I'm not jealous of her lovers. I'm envious of the spontaneity and passion she must bring to these stealth encounters.
What's it like making love to Rita? She rarely says no. Fact is, I rarely even have to ask. You like waking up to a blowjob? It actually gets old after a few hundred times. Does your girl blow you while you're driving? My wife hangs her panties from the rear view mirror and straddles me while I drive. She loves to play dress up. Some wives have a drawer of lingerie that they've worn exactly once. Rita has a whole dresser of it and she wears it that stuff every day.
She loves to bend over for me when we walk in the park. She loves to drop to her knees in restaurant bathrooms. When we watch a dirty movie, I know she'll want to act it out later. And that leads me to the story of her secret fetish. It's so secret I don't think she even knew about it.
We were at a friend's house, at a party, getting high in the basement. There was a forgettable videotape playing on the TV. At one point an Italian stallion is mauling a big-titted blond, and for some reason the guy starts choking her. I mean, not for real, but he had his hands around her throat while he furiously fucked her. I thought that was weird but there's a person for every kink, I guess.
The scene made an impression on Rita. She brought it up several times over the next few days. I asked her if she was wanting me to do that and she was all I don't know, maybe, might be fun. The thought of it made me uncomfortable. But knowing my wife, once the itch was there she was going to scratch it. So reluctant as I was to even pretend to strangle her, I had to do it to satisfy her curiosity.
One night we were having some nice vanilla missionary and I remembered the movie. I pulled my knees up under her ass, placed one of my hands on her throat, then the other. My weight wasn't on her. I wasn't really choking her. But my thumbs were crossing and I gave her a menacing look. She looked utterly terrified. It was unnerving. But we kept screwing and it didn't seem like she was hating it. I started fucking her harder and harder and harder.
From time to time after that we incorporated some elements of physical and verbal abuse in our love play. I noticed that occasionally when we were getting ready for bed she would get mouthy with me, confrontational, even insulting. I learned to recognize this to mean she wanted me to get rough with her. She got off on being spanked. Doesn't everyone? Hair pulling I understand is also widely popular. But things got rougher than that and the harder I pushed her the more she responded.
One morning I jumped out of bed early, before she had a chance to interfere with me. I told her I had important business and warned her not to let a man into the house. I was adamant with her. Do not open the door to a man, even if he is wearing a uniform and says he is on official business. Rita was baffled at first. Then she said she understood and would be careful.
I hopped in my BMW and headed to the country club. I had already taken the day off and after a leisurely breakfast I went to the locker rooms and changed into jeans and a stained button up shirt with a name tag over the pocket that said "Jim". I put a light jacket on so my attire wouldn't attract too much attention. I drove back home, parking around the corner and walking the rest of the way.
Just outside my own front door I put on a hat and sunglasses and a fake mustache. My heart was pounding. If I was wrong about my little plan, if I misunderstood how interested my wife was in being forced, I was going to be very embarrassed or worse. I rang the doorbell and looked around the neighborhood while I waited.
She answered the door just a crack but I could see she was dressed for the occasion. Her nightgown was virtually invisible and her green chiffon bra and panties covered nothing. Her red hair was swept up and her eyes were dark with mascara. If she was going for a 60's Playboy model look, she nailed it. She neglected to draw the security chain though, I noticed.
"May I help you?" She asked in a haughty, formal voice.
"Yes ma'am," I stammered shyly. "I, uh, am from the power company and I, uh, need to check your switch box. Sorry for the inconvenience."
"I'm sorry, sir," she replied. "You'll have to come back later when my husband is home."
I added some urgency to my plea. "Ma'am, it is very important I see that switchbox. Very dangerous situation."
"I am not equipped to have visitors, mister..." She scanned the name tag on my shirt. "...mister Jim."
"Ma'am, this cannot possibly wait..."
Anger flashed on her face. "You must be hard of hearing, Jim, or just plain stupid..."
At that I shoved the door open in her face, sending her staggering back into the foyer, and I was on her in a flash. She tried to resist until she saw the knife in my hand. Believe me, I felt like the biggest asshole in the world to do this to her. All she had to do was tell me to stop. She didn't say a word.
"We can do this two ways, lady. You cooperate and I'll use a rubber. You don't..." I finished the thought by holding the knife to her throat.
