When I first began dating my husband, I knew he was special. He was not only a gentleman, but he was always very patient and easygoing. He was good to both his and my family. My family adored him (a bit too much, I later found out; other stories to follow).
I have to admit that I have always been a handful (very emotional, impulsive), but things were just easy with him. We never fought which was a nice change from previous relationships. He was good to me. He had a very calming effect on me. He knew how to handle my temperament.
I had a terrible history with men before I met my husband. I was very feisty and volatile, so relationships were always short-lived. I have cheated on pretty much all my past boyfriends. I was different from all the other girls in that I was very independent and never wanted to get married. I had a history of poor experiences with boys and men. How I lost my virginity, how I was used and manipulated in my early years It all took a toll on me, and I never wanted to rely on, depend on, or even trust men. I didn’t need a husband. I was fiercely independent.
When dating my husband, I treated him the same as past boyfriends. Although he was good for me, I just couldn’t let go of my past behaviour. Because he was always so cool and calm, I intentionally did or said things in order to provoke a fight. I was constantly trying to get a reaction out of him, but he never took the bait. It sounds crazy, but I was scared that things were too good—does that make any sense?
He travelled on business and left me to my own vices. I found myself bored and tempted when he was away. I had never dated a guy that travelled on business before, but I adapted well and began to live a secret life when he was out of town. I enjoyed our frequent short breaks. I began cheating with old boyfriends and even had the occasional one-nighter when he wasn’t around.
It was like getting a hall pass once or even twice a month when he was travelling. I justified my actions by assuming he did the same when away, although I had no proof or reason to suspect him.
He often joked that he knew there was a long list of men just waiting for him to mess up. He had no idea that some of those men had cut the line and were only waiting for his next business trip.
There were a few times when he suspected something, but I was always elusive and coy. I was careful to never admit anything. It was like I was testing him, seeing how much he would put up with, how far I could push him; how much I could get away with.
Sometimes I think I was trying to destroy the relationship. I had a dark side to me that I hid very well. Subconsciously, I felt I didn’t deserve him. The more I was drawn to him, the more I rebelled. I was scared. Things were getting serious, and I was terrified of commitment.
The night he proposed to me was a complete train wreck. To say that I did not handle it very well is a huge understatement.
We had been dating for almost two years when he took me to a nice restaurant and ordered a bottle of champagne with our meal. We were supposedly celebrating a job promotion. I had no idea he was planning to propose. It was a complete surprise when he asked me to marry him, as it had never come up in conversation before.
I was shocked and couldn’t give him an answer. I suppose any answer other than “yes” means “no.”
Shock quickly turned to anger for ambushing me like that (I told you I was temperamental). I had repeatedly told him that I never wanted to marry, and here he was with a ring in hand.
I completely lost it and began scolding him. I suppose I was making quite a scene in the restaurant. I could see in his eyes that my reaction caught him off guard. He looked devastated, but I continued to lash out at him. I know when I am behaving badly, but it’s something that I can’t control. It just happens, and it has to run its ugly course.
He stayed calm and wanted to go back to his place to discuss it, but I refused to go. I had a few too many drinks and continued to behave badly — very badly. He calmly got up from the table and left the restaurant, hoping that I would come to my senses and meet him back at his place, which was a short walk away.
Instead of following him, I finished drinking the bottle of champagne. I knew if I went back to his place I would end up with a ring on my finger that night, so instead, I moved to the bar area and continued to drink. I was beside myself… Oh, fuck, what just happened?
It wasn’t long before I was carrying on with a couple of guys at the bar. The drinks flowed, and I was acting promiscuously. I was rebelling.
I could have easily left the bar area and walked back to my boyfriend’s place, but I didn’t. I continued to drink and flirt with my two new friends. I wanted to forget this evening.
Before long, I was being escorted to their car with me drunkenly hanging on to both men.
The back door opened and I fell onto the seat, followed by one of them. Our lips locked, and his hands were all over me. My white strap top was easily pulled down and he was mauling my exposed breasts. I immediately went for his cock.
Sex has always been an escape for me, and I needed to forget about what happened earlier that evening. Besides, this just proved I wasn’t wife material. I was damaged goods, a slut at heart. Why would he ask me to marry him?
Intoxicated and upset with my boyfriend, I willingly gave this new acquaintance oral sex. By having another man’s cock in my mouth, I was just proving to myself I was not worthy of being any man’s wife. I stroked and sucked away my guilt and anger. My inner slut had taken charge of the situation.
I was then pushed back onto the seat and he reached for my panties. I immediately arched my back to facilitate their removal. It wasn’t because I wanted them off, but because these were the most expensive panties I had owned up until then. I had bought them for this evening’s special occasion. They were tiny high-cut, white-laced panties, silky and very delicate. I didn’t want my new friend to yank on them or rip them. So off they came.
He dropped to his knees and lifted my skirt to go down on me. I pulled my long-flowing skirt over his head so I couldn’t see him. There I was in the back seat with my white top pulled down to my waist and a man between my legs with my skirt covering his head.
I could see his friend was standing guard outside of the car through the partly open window. He occasionally glanced in to see what was happening. As hot as being watched was, I was still not fully engaged. Despite the alcohol, a man slurping away between my legs, and another man watching me as I lay there half naked, the thought of my boyfriend continued to linger in my mind.
What if he came back looking for me? He knows I need a ride home. He has always looked after me. It wouldn’t be like him to just leave me stranded. I began to have second thoughts about my choices that evening.
I began moaning and thrashing in frustration as I pushed down on this stranger’s head through my skirt. He wasn’t scratching my sexual itch and I continued to grind my clit harder into his mouth. He continued to finger and lick me. This wasn’t working for me as my frustration and guilt were growing.
I finally faked an orgasm as I could sense I was too upset to have one. Maybe I should go back to my boyfriend’s place. How could I have lashed out at him like that? I hate it when I behave so irrationally.
He popped his head out from under my dress, his lips all red and glossy. My legs still spread, he continued to finger me from his kneeling position. He then grabbed my hips and pulled me closer to his erect cock. His cock was resting at the entrance of my lips. I knew what was coming next, and I half-heartedly tried to stop things before they progressed further. I put up a short lame struggle, but my new friend was having none of it. He persisted, and I eventually gave in. I have never been good at rejecting men, especially with alcohol on board.
With one quick jab, he slid the head of his cock between my wet lips. I tried to pull away and mumbled the obligatory something about a condom. He responded with a sharp, quick thrust of his hips. He took my breath away as his hard cock penetrated deep inside of me in one motion. I was wet and moist and had no problem engulfing his member. I gasped at how nice it felt to have a cock inside of me.
He wasted no time and began fucking me hard and fast. I could feel the car’s suspension bouncing with each thrust. I couldn’t help but see his friend looking in through the partially open window. The thought of my boyfriend was momentarily gone and I was finally starting to enjoy myself. This was just what I needed. A good hard fucking.
“Fuck me hard…PLEASE,” I begged. I could tell by his breathing and the sounds that this wasn’t going to take long.
He grunted and loudly moaned as he thrust into me as hard as he could.
“Don’t stop yet…keep fucking me…” I pleaded for more, but I knew he wasn’t going to last. I could tell he wasn’t going to satisfy me as I was nowhere close to an orgasm yet.
He grunted louder and I knew it was over. I tried to push him out of me, but he resisted.
“Don’t cum inside of me…I mean it,” were my last urgent words to him.
I heard him moan and grunt. He arched his back up and gave one last hard and deep thrust as he let out a loud, deep moan. “Aww…” I felt his cock pulsating inside of me before he quickly pulled out and shot two thick streams of cum all over me.
But it was too late; he had already ejaculated inside of me before he pulled out. I could feel his warm load inside of me.
He moaned and fell on top of me.
“I told you not to cum inside of me,” I muttered in disappointment.
I was annoyed that he came inside of me and the mess that he made of my white top. I shot back,
“Is that it?” I was pissed and frustrated. I wanted more. I needed more.
Not only was this night a shit show with my boyfriend, but this guy came inside and all over me without even satisfying me. An all-around terrible night.
He just grunted as he lifted himself up and withdrew his spent cock. I could tell he didn’t care as he pulled up his pants, opened the car door, and stepped out to join his buddy.
Disappointed and frustrated, I lay there in his back seat for a minute before I reached for my panties, but they were nowhere to be found.
That jerk stole my underwear… JUST FUCKING PERFECT…
Just then, the driver’s door opened.
“Want a ride home?” He asked.
“Sure”, I replied, thinking that was kind of him. I gave him the closest street intersection to where I lived.
What choice did I have? I couldn’t go back to my boyfriend’s place after just fucking some guy who filled me up with his semen. My top was also covered with his load, so that option was gone now.
His friend then opened the back door and sat next to me. Very close, I might add. I was a bit taken aback, but the car just sped off.
His friend, who had watched us having sex, was now obviously aroused and began touching me. Being the cuter of the two, I didn’t stop him. He placed his hand on my leg and began kissing my shoulder and neck.
Drunk and frustrated from the first encounter, I turned to him and asked,
“I suppose you want sex also?” He responded by lunging on top of me.
Once again, my top was slipped down and he began kissing and sucking my nipples.
I reached into his pants and began stroking him. He was a good size, bigger than my boyfriend and his friend. I quickly hopped onto his lap and lowered myself onto him. I was a sloppy mess down there, and I just engulfed his entire shaft. He felt wonderful and I could tell I was going to enjoy my encore round of sex that evening.
I began by slowly moving my hips up and down his entire shaft. I was taking control this time and I knew how to get myself off. As he sucked and stimulated my nipples, I could feel the cool autumn air blowing in through the half-opened windows as we drove.
Before long, I felt the car stop. I had no idea where we were, nor did I care. My friend grabbed my ass and began pushing me down harder onto his shaft as I picked up the pace. I could tell he was getting close, so I slowed down and talked him through it.
“Slow down, I’m not there yet. Slow down,” I whispered into his ear. I stopped bouncing on him for a moment so that he could gather his composure.
“Hey, what was your name again?” I playfully asked, hoping to get his mind off of ejaculating.
“Umm, Rick,” he mumbled.
“Oh yeah, I remember now…” Are you ready to continue fucking me, Rick? “
He didn’t need to respond as I felt his cock twitch inside of me.
I turned to see what was happening in the front seat, and there was his friend just leaning over the seat with his face practically in my ass watching.
“Enjoying the show?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, continue on,” he said.
“Maybe you can learn something from Rick here.” I snapped back.
I turned my attention back to Rick and began riding him again. Rick’s cock felt wonderful inside of me as it was fairly long and thick. I closed my eyes and concentrated on his cock as I moved up and down his beautiful shaft. Rick continued to suck on my nipples, and it wasn’t long until I felt a rush of energy flow through me.
“Oh fuck, that feels SO good,” I purred. My body started to shake and quiver as I finally felt that orgasm that was so elusive earlier. Rick stiffened up and let out a loud groan, and I felt his cock spasm as he shot his warm load inside of me. We both came at the same time, and his friend silently watched from the front seat.
I straightened up and the guys drove me home. I asked about my lost panties, but they both played dumb. I’m sure my expensive panties were someone’s trophy.
Rick asked if he could come in and spend the night. I thought about it but told him he couldn’t as my boyfriend might come around.
The truth of it was that I felt so cheap. so stupid. What have I done? What the fuck is wrong with me? What started out as a wonderful evening somehow went horribly wrong.
I was scared of committing, and I rebelled. Believe it or not, this was typical of my behaviour back then.
After not hearing from my boyfriend the next day, I called him in the evening. He told me he had returned to the restaurant when I didn’t show up at his place and saw me with a guy. He knew I had sex with him. I was scared and I panicked. After a painfully long pause, I confessed that I was drunk and that it didn’t mean anything. As soon as I said it, I realised he was fishing and didn’t really see anything, but it was too late. I could sense the pain in his voice as he told me it was over and not to contact him again. He hung up.
At first, I thought he would come around and forgive me, but he didn’t. After about a week of not hearing from him, I began calling him nonstop, but he wouldn’t answer. I was slowly coming to realise that maybe it was really over. Had I finally succeeded in pushing him away? But now I missed him dearly. I was heartbroken. We were apart for about eight weeks before I basically went back begging for him to take me back. It was one of the most emotional things that ever happened to me.
We had a lot of deep talks, and slowly, over time, we healed our relationship. Deep down, I still thought I didn’t deserve him. I was very concerned I could never remain faithful when married. Of course, I didn’t tell him that. Several months later, he proposed to me again, and I accepted. But this time I had sex with him and not a stranger.
As you can see from my stories, my concerns were very valid. I moved in with him before marrying, and I ended up having an affair with his older brother (my brother-in-law story will be posted soon). I was guilt-ridden and seriously contemplated not going through with the wedding. I had my doubts and concerns even as I walked down the aisle.
After marrying, I lasted six months before I fell into the arms of an old boyfriend. The doubts never went away. I still question my path to this day. I often wonder what is wrong with me.
