My Husband needs to learn how to satisfy me.
For all the years that we’ve been together, it’s only ever felt like settling to me. I remember what it used to be like before I was with a man who couldn’t make me moan.
My ex was stuck in my mind and now he’s with me once more. Now every ounce of his overwhelming dominance can fill a secondary purpose: showing my husband how to please me.
My husband is good and he’s who I want to be married to, but this is just part of the reason he will never be enough for me. He’s just sitting passively watching as another man takes his wife and it only brings me scorn, it only makes me hate him a little more.
And it makes me push the limits, to see how much he’ll take. It makes me be cruel for cruelty’s sake. It makes me mock and it makes my hatred only too real.
With each moment that my ex puts my husband in his place, I realize that I can never go back. With each moment that my husband sits watching, I wonder why he isn’t acting.
I wonder whether this moment will change everything. I wonder whether this is all part of a bigger plan.
I wonder whether we can ever go back.
Excerpt
“You can’t satisfy me, not where it counts. When you’re inside of me I feel hollow, I feel the lacking absence, and I need more. I need a real man, and if you can’t be that for me then you’ll either have to learn or you’ll have to accept that I’ll need to find someone to replace you. I’ll need someone to scratch that itch. I’ll need someone who can really make me scream.”
I said I knew her and I meant it but I think I only really know her in generalities. I know her capacity, but not her limits. I know what she wants, but I don’t know if I truly understand what she needs.
Maybe Sandy isn’t quite the woman I think she is.
Still I look at her because she’s told me to look at her and I don’t look at Caleb even though I want to. I don’t stand either, just sit in my place and do my best not to squirm as I consider everything that’s happening and contemplate the question she hasn’t yet asked me but that I know is coming here.
When Sandy told me about Caleb she talked at length about the way he hurt her. It all came out in a conversation about our longest past relationship and she had been with Caleb for years before me and somehow it slipped out that he’d cheated on her and then that clarified into her telling me how he’d cheated on her repeatedly. Over and over and over again.
I pressed for more. I needed the answer. To me cheating was a red line and it was breaking bonds and fidelity and that kind of unconscious need to be monogamous. Cheating was unforgivable, so why had she stayed with him when she ought to have walked away?
Sandy was not a woman of blunt opinions, not the Sandy I knew at least. She loved poetry and she could take a long time getting to the point and I found a certain comfort in that, in knowing who she was in the wake of that. For her to tell me so directly that she was with this absolute asshole in such simple terms should have been a sign that I didn’t understand her at all.
“He made me cum more and better than I’d ever cum before.”
That phrase accompanied by the blissful glazed-over look in her eyes, that fond remembrance that led her down the path of nostalgia and that look that she’d never given me before. She was thinking of the things that he’d done to her and she was loving every minute of it.
I had to acknowledge that the teaching was only part of it. If she truly did want me to learn, that was one piece of the whole of this puzzle. She also wanted that bliss and she wanted those feelings again. She wanted Caleb on her and in her because she needed to feel that way and nothing else would ever truly match up to that.
“He’s going to fuck me now. He’s going to make me cum and you’re going to watch and learn. He’s going to satisfy me so that you can get a little bit closer to satisfying me, because right now you’re not satisfying me at all. Is that okay with you? Is this okay with you? Do you want me to fuck him?”
I’m looking her in the eye when she asks the question and I know that even though the choice is being left to me it’s not really a choice at all. Choices indicate some say in the outcome and the truth is whether I say yes or not this night will, undoubtedly, end with Caleb inside my wife. The only real choice I have is whether or not she’s still my wife at the end of it, and even though that much isn’t certain by saying yes it’s at least slightly better odds.
So I nod, because I have to nod. I nod and I give my consent because it’s the only thing that I can do. Because as in all business transactions you have to weigh the good and the bad and realize that no one gets out of a deal without a bloody nose but so long as you’ve still got your head on your shoulders you did alright.
And I do my level best to ignore everything else, just like I have been for years at this point.
I remember the night she told me about Caleb for the first time, probably better than she does. She was blissful in her memories and she was staring into the middle distance and not at me and so keen was she to stay in her memories that she didn’t even question when I pressed her for more, for specifics. Details she gave willingly, her dreamlike voice painting a picture of him inside of her and on her and making her moan, making her scream with delight. Filling in all the blanks with my own imagination and her own capable storytelling.
Both of us doing our level best to ignore the throbbing need in my pants. Then and now.