Richard and I got married a month after graduating college. We struggled financially at first. He was working as a technician for a medium sized security company. His days were spent installing security systems in homes and businesses.
I landed a job with a small accounting firm. I worked mostly on commercial accounts, data entry and helping prepare for audits. We saved our money religiously, but we just didn't seem to be getting ahead. We were falling well short of our goals, both short term and long term.
Still, we were madly in love . . . and lust. Our sex life was as fresh and exciting as the day we were married. We both worked hard at keeping it that way. We expended the mental effort to think of new ways to surprise each other with various sexual situations.
I remember coming home after a particularly difficult and stressful day at work. Richard knew it well in advance because I'd sent him several texts telling him I'd be late and that I would be exhausted when I got home. He simply asked me to let him know when I was leaving the office. I did, telling him not to worry about supper for me—that we'd ordered in at the office.
When I walked in the door of our small rental house, he met me just inside. After welcoming me with a wonderful hug and kiss, he began undressing me, right there. It was then I noticed a trail of rose petals leading toward the master bedroom. I remember thinking "Oh damn, he wants sex and I'm exhausted."
When I was totally naked, he led me along the path. In the master bathroom, the tub was filled with water and bubble bath. There were several candles flickering about, eliminating the need to turn on the light. When I was submerged in the hot water, he gave me a soft kiss on the lips, and then he left, closing the door behind him.
I lost track of time, but I think it must have been somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty minutes, he returned, helped me out of the tub, and dried me thoroughly with a warm towel that must have just been taken out of the dryer.
After drying and brushing my shoulder length black hair, he wrapped a fresh towel around me and led me into the living room. I stopped in my tracks when I saw a rather large black man standing in the middle of the room. He was wearing a white t-shirt with some kind of logo, and white shorts. Behind him was a massage table.
Realizing what it was and why he was there, I didn't resist when Richard led me over to the table, removed my towel, and helped me onto the table. I was more than a little embarrassed to be naked in front of this strange man in my home, but I'd had massages before, so I got over it quickly.
Again, my husband gave me a tender kiss, "When you're done, I'll be waiting for you in the bedroom." And then he left the room. After a wonderful thirty minute, very relaxing massage, I resisted the urge to cover up while letting Brandon out. After all, it wasn't like he hadn't seen and touched almost every inch of me already, still, I found it very erotic to be off the table and totally naked in front of this man.
Just as he'd told me, Richard was waiting in the bedroom. He was lying on the bed in his heavy dark blue robe, his arms behind his head, his ankles crossed, and a wide smile on his face. Once again, there were several candles flickering about.
"Do you think you can sleep now?" He asked me as I approached the bed.
"Yes", I said with a wide stretch and yawn, "right after you make passionate love to me." I added with a silly giggle.
He raised an eyebrow, "Oh, did the massage get you going?"
I shook my head as I slowly crawled onto the bed toward him, "No, it was wonderful, but it was you that got me going."
It wasn't long before I was on top of him, his cock buried deep inside me, and his hands roughly kneading my c cup breasts. When I came, I was half afraid the neighbors could hear me. Afterward, Richard teased me by loudly howling like a wolf into the air.
* * *
My husband wasn't the only one who went over and above to keep things exciting between us. I knew he was having a tough week, so I encouraged him to play golf on Saturday with his buddies. "Call me when you're on your way home" which was not an unusual request from either of us.
I was ready when he called. I had everything planned out. Fortunately, we weren't heavily invested in the neighborhood. We didn't really even know our neighbors. The neighborhood didn't have parties, or picnics or anything like that, so I wasn't too worried about what they might think of me.
When the garage door opened, I was waiting inside. I walked out straight in front of his car so he couldn't pull inside. I was wearing a small waitress apron that covered my lower half—in front. I had a serving tray balanced on my hand with a glass of Jack and Coke—his favorite drink.
When he shut off the engine, I opened his door and helped him out. He was glancing around nervously, but I was oblivious to everything and everyone but him. I handed him the drink. "Are your clubs in the trunk?"
"Uh, yeah." He stammered.
"I'll get them." And I took the keys from his hand. He just stood there and watched as I opened the trunk. I struggled to retrieve the heavy bag, but I managed. When I walked past him, I said, "You can go inside if you like. I'll put these away and then pull your car inside."
He followed me into the garage and watched me store his golf bag in its usual place, and then he watched intently as I slowly walked back out, closed the trunk and then got in the car. He stepped aside as I pulled it inside.
Once inside the house, I didn't even have time to close the garage door before he grabbed me. After a passionate kiss he said in a deep voice, "I need a shower."
"No, you're fine. You smell manly."
And with that, he lifted me onto the kitchen table, dropped his golf pants, and began fucking me with a furry. All in all, I knew my little exhibitionism had served its purpose.
* * *
Eight years into our marriage, something major happened. Richard had been becoming very frustrated with the lack of potential for upward mobility in his job. Even though it made me extremely nervous, I supported his decision to quit his job and take one with a small construction company that offered him a much lower salary, but commissions that had the potential to earn him much more.
Richard did very well in his new position, and three years later, we were able to buy a beautiful home on a cul-de-sac in a very nice neighborhood. It had four bedrooms, three and a half baths, a formal dining room, a huge master bedroom, and best of all, a nice pool.
Four years after that, my husband was doing so well, I was able to quit my job and stay home full time. It was a mutual decision from the start not to have children. It wasn't that we had anything against them, but neither of us felt the need. We were happy with our life the way it was.
* * *
A tree grows slowly. One can't see the difference from one day to the next, but at some point, you realize "Damn, it was so small when we planted it, and look at it now." Well, it can be the same in a relationship. One day I just woke up and realized that our sex life had faded to practically nothing. Our love hadn't faded at all, just our physical expression of it. We'd been married for twenty two years by then.
We were very normal people physically. I'd let my body go to a degree, my hips and thighs, my tummy, the tight tone replaced by flab in all the wrong places. Richard was balding a little, and he had a substantial beer belly. He simply wasn't fit at all. I hate to admit it, but I knew those things had more than a little to do with our barely existent sex life.
I decided to do something about it. I cleaned out one of the spare bedrooms and turned it into an exercise room. It had a universal weight machine, a tread mill, a stair climber, and mirrors covering every wall.
At first, Richard blew off my dedication to getting in shape. I still cooked him his favorite meals, but I tried to make them a little healthier without him noticing. I went totally healthy with my own meals, cutting down the portions, more fruits and veggies—but still enough protein to help me build the muscle I knew would digest fat and provide me with energy. I got the recipes straight out of Larry North's book, "Living Lean".
It took a lot of encouragement and a little blackmail before he finally gave in and began working out a little. When he started seeing some difference in me, he finally got more serious about it. Six months later, we were both looking and feeling a lot better. Our sex life also improved, I think because we had more energy, but it was still a fraction of what it had once been—and what I longed to experience again.
* * *
The best laid plans of mice and men are sometimes no match for fate. Richard came home from work one day and laid a bombshell on me. "My sister called today. She's in a really bad place and needs some help pulling herself out of it."
I'd only met Jana a few times—at our wedding, at the funerals of each of his parents, and at one family reunion. She was a lot younger than him—twelve years younger.
"What does she need?'
He shrugged, "A place to stay for starters."
"Here?"
