CuckQuean - Anita, the Insufficient

"I need you, David."

A couple of hours later he was sated, and I was ecstatic. I knew I'd be out of commission for a couple of days, but it was worth it. He was mine now, as vulnerable as he ever got.

David was lying back, head propped up with pillows, his chest glistening. I arose from the bed, cleaning up a little before putting on some panties with liners or I'd be leaking all night. I brought in a warm washcloth, and wiped him down, tracing the path with my lips.

His breath had calmed and he seemed serene. I joined him on his side of the bed, away from the wet spot, leaning into him, arm and leg casually draped over him.

"Can I go with you?" I asked.

"Go? We're not going anywhere. It's after midnight. I have to be up in six hours."

"Silly. Go to New York with you."

I thought he'd be eager to have me join him. Love in the City of Lights. He could go to his meetings, and I could shop at Saks. Dinner at Keen's Steakhouse to deal with his protein needs. Something slinky to wear at night to deal with mine. It would be perfect. We could catch Chicago, or maybe Mama Mia!

"You know I prefer to travel alone, Anita."

His words stunned me. He loved to be with me. How could he say he preferred to travel alone?

"I won't interfere with your meetings, darling. I swear. It's New York! I've always dreamed of going there."

"We can go on vacation. We'll plan it all out. See everything," he answered.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. After all I'd done for him! "You don't want me with you?" I asked.

"Not during business travel. It's only a few days every couple of weeks. You understand, don't you?"

"No. No, I don't understand. You say you love me, you want to be with me, and then you tell me you don't want me to go to New York with you. I don't understand at all."

He sighed. "It's business, my love. I'll take you when it's just us. We can go to shows, shopping, a carriage ride, the best restaurants. We'll do it up right."

"You don't want me with you when you travel. That's it isn't it? You're looking to get away from me, aren't you? There's more to this travel than just travel, isn't there?" He was going to a modeling agency! That was it. I knew it. The bastard!

I knew it was bad, when he sat up and took my hands in his. He looked me in the eye, holding steady, waiting until I had his full attention.

"Anita, we have a wonderful thing. I love you and you love me. I want you to listen to me, and answer honestly. Can you do that for me?"

It was some kind of trick, I knew it. Still, what could I do? I nodded.

"Am I a good husband?"

"The best," I answered immediately, without thought. It was the truth.

"Do I deny you anything? Do I satisfy you in bed? Are you proud to be seen with me in public? Have I ever demonstrated anything but my complete love and adoration? Ever?"

It was impossible to deny it. "You're the most incredible lover ever, and you give me whatever my heart desires, even more. You're the most generous man in the world. I couldn't be more proud than when I enter a crowded room on your arm, seeing the way they look at you, and the way they respond to you, knowing you're mine and only mine. Every day you prove your love to me, and I appreciate it. I've never had any reason to doubt that."

He nodded. "That's what I'd hoped. I do my best to be the best husband I can be for you. I love you more than I ever thought possible." He gave my hands a squeeze, and sighed. "That's what makes this so difficult to say. I would never hurt you for anything in the world."

"What?" I asked nervously. "What's so hard to say?"

He climbed out of the bed, and quietly pulled on his boxers. "I want you to think about this before you answer. Then I want you to be as honest as you can be, alright?"

"About what? You're scaring me David."

"Ask yourself the same questions. Do you deny me anything? Do you satisfy me in bed? Am I proud to be seen with you in public? Have you ever demonstrated anything but your complete love and adoration? Ask yourself those questions, and when you have an answer, come see me in my study."

"I can answer—"

"No!" he said firmly, walking away. "I don't want to see you for at least ten minutes. Be totally honest with yourself, think about what I'm asking carefully, and then we'll talk."

He walked away, leaving me in a confused quandary. Of course I did everything I could to show my love! I adored the man.

I echoed the question in my head. Did I deny him? Did I satisfy him? Was he proud to be with me? Was my love and devotion ever in doubt?

How could he even ask! That was crazy. I was his, heart and soul. Absolutely, without limit.

And still the questions gnawed away at me. Why would he even ask, if there wasn't some doubt? Something was wrong. I had answered the questions about him easily, without taking time to consider. Even thinking it over, I couldn't find any other answers than what I'd given him. He was absolutely devoted to me, and placed my needs and wants above his in everything. In everything, that is, until this trip.

Did I deny him anything? Surely he couldn't be talking about sex. Of course I teased him a little, led him on, but that was all part of the game. I knew he wanted a blowjob this afternoon. Such a little thing, that couldn't be it, could it?

I felt myself getting angry. Anal sex. Was that what it was all about? So I wouldn't let him have my ass. Was that enough to deny me my trip to New York? He never made a big deal about it.

Recalling the last few nights, when he came to me in bed, reaching for me, and I turned him away. Surely he didn't expect to have sex every day! That was completely unreasonable. We had sex two or three times a week. That was more than many of our friends. If he didn't leave me so sore, maybe we could do it a little more frequently. I knew I satisfied him, when we did it. Why else would he go for so long, so many times, using me up.

Was he proud to be seen with me? God, I hoped so! I tried to look good for him. So maybe I wasn't a trophy wife. My tits weren't huge, but he'd be thankful twenty years from now when they weren't sagging around my waist. Maybe I had a little more junk in the trunk than when we married, but a lot of men liked that. He seemed to enjoy grabbing my butt, touching me, fondling me. I knew I pissed him off when I cut my hair, but he wasn't the one that had to deal with it. Long hair was a pain. It was so much easier to take care of now.

I looked pretty damn good, damn it! I dressed well when we went out. So I wasn't in his league, stopping everyone's heart when I walked in the room but that wasn't a fair comparison. He knew that when he married me. I was pretty, I got a lot of attention. So I wasn't a Hollywood actress, Playmate or Cover girl. I wasn't a dog.

Why would he ask me these questions? Why? Surely he didn't believe that I didn't love him? Totally, with every essence of my body! Was I jealous sometimes? Of course, but that didn't mean I didn't love him! It only proved that I did? How could he even ask?

I was confused, hurt, scared. More than a little angry. I looked up at the clock and realized it was almost one a.m. How long had I been sitting there, lost in my thoughts, reviewing my own behavior, looking at every aspect of our relationship over the last few years?

Climbing out of the bed, I put on my nightgown, and wrapped myself in my robe. I went down the stairs and turned into his study. He was sitting there, drinking something brown. Probably his Scotch. He looked up at me, and I saw sadness and concern. Nervousness. He was no more comfortable than I. Maybe even less.

I sat beside him, not knowing how to start. Where to start. What he was asking wasn't fair.

"I love you, Anita. More than anything. You have to know that," he murmured softly.

I nodded. "That isn't the question though, is it?"

He shook his head.

"Do you think I deny you, David? Do I not satisfy you? Aren't you proud to be seen with me?"

His look was painful, and unrelenting. "I want to hear your answer first, my love."

The words burst forth, an endless torrent. All the times I'd denied him anything, and the reasons, the justification. The times I said no to anything, for any cause. A few minutes into it, I was ashamed at how often I did it, over and over again, using sex to get my way, cajoling him into doing what I wanted to do, getting what I wanted, time and time again. Did I satisfy him? When we did it, I believed I did, most of the time. Sure I'd ended things before he wanted to sometimes, alright, maybe a lot of times, but that was because he was insatiable! Three or four times he'd want to go, hours and hours of sex if he had his way. I knew I'd left him wanting a few of the times we'd been together, and more times when I wasn't in the mood, or had my underlying objectives, but we had a great sex life! Hadn't we just proved that?

He listened calmly, nodding occasionally, not speaking.

I looked up at him, feeling the tears in danger of spilling over and making me look like a fool. "Aren't you proud to be seen with me, David? Am I a troll?"

He stood, and took my hand, lifting me off the couch. He hugged me, then removed my robe, soundlessly. He kissed me, kissed me with passion, before removing my nightgown. He eased my sodden panties down my legs, until I was standing naked in front of him. Then he slowly removed his own robe, and dropped his boxers. He hugged me, then took my shoulders and turned me. I was facing the mirror on the back of the door, where he checked himself each morning before leaving for work. He stood beside me, silent, making me look at myself.

It was a harsh realization. I'd let myself go. Not horribly, but I certainly wasn't the young hard-body he'd married seven years earlier. He? He looked better than he had then. A body carved out of granite. Perfection.

Me? I had love handles. A pooch. My hips were wider than they'd been, and lower. My thighs thicker. My face was too full, my eyes almost beady, I was even getting a double chin. My hair was a mess, boring. Without makeup I was washed out, pale. I lowered my face into my hands and cried, while he lifted me in his powerful arms, and carried me to our bed, as if I was weightless. At five foot four, and a hundred and fifty-two pounds that was hardly the case.

He placed me in the bed, holding me, enveloping me in his love. He loved me, after all of that. I knew he did. He showed me all the time.

"Why, David? How can you love me so completely?" I asked.

He chuckled, giving me a squeeze. "I've always loved you, Anita. From the first time I saw you. I don't know why. Why does the sun shine? Why is the ocean blue? I love you more than I've ever loved anything in my life, and never will love anyone like I love you."

"Am I a bad wife?"

"No, my love. You're a great wife. It's me. I'm sorry, but sometimes I need more."

Need more? Need more what? More than I could give? "I don't understand."

"I know. It's not your fault. I love you with all my heart, never doubt that. But I need more. A lot more than you can give me. Through no fault of your own. I don't hold it against you, or blame you. It doesn't diminish my love in the least."

I could feel a chill rushing through me. My heart was racing, my skin growing clammy. "What are you saying? Don't talk in riddles!"

"I'm trying to be as honest as I can, Anita, my love, my life. My trips are for me. To get what I need. To balance the scales a bit. They change nothing between us, except to make me love you even more."

Oh my God! Was he saying what I think he was saying? "Because I deny you? I don't satisfy you?"

"I need more, that's all. Every couple of weeks I can get my fill. Loose my demons, give up control. Do all the things I desire, as often as I want, without care or concern. You need to understand, it's my problem, not yours, and I'm sorry that I'm not stronger."

"I could do that for you. Whatever you need, David. I'm your wife. You don't need anybody but me!"

He pulled me close, hugging me. "I wish it were true. Don't you think I'd rather be with you, my one true love, than any other woman, no matter how young, how beautiful, how willing? I tried, baby. God knows I tried. Three long years, before I couldn't stand it any longer."

Young, beautiful, willing? Three years? "There are other women," I said coldly.

"Yes. Many."

"For how long."

"Four years now. A couple of times a month, two or three days each time. Maybe one or two week long blowouts a year. That's all."

"That's all? That's all! You're cheating on me. Cheating! You bastard! All these years, and I thought you loved me. You tricked me. How could you!"

I could feel him stiffen up. I looked up and saw, not the shame or sorrow I expected, but anger.

"You know I love you, Anita. If I didn't love you so damn much, you'd have been gone years ago. You're my heart and my soul, even if I'm not yours. I put it all on the line for you, every day, giving you everything I have. And you play your god-damn games, and deny me my due, time and time again. Don't say I don't love you, damn it, when you know that's a lie!"

"But you're with other women. Younger, prettier—"

"And I don't love any of them. They give me what I need, so I can come back to you, and be what you need."

What he needs. What I can't give him. Did he understand how he hurt me? How badly the words burned? To think that I wasn't enough for my man, that he had to turn elsewhere.

I pulled myself free from his arms, and he didn't fight me. "I need to be alone, David. I have to think about this. You've hurt me badly. I have to tell you that. I don't think I've ever been hurt this bad."

He nodded. "I know, and I'm sorry. I needed to be honest with you. Believe me, the way I love you, seeing you in this much pain cuts me to the quick."

Maybe. But then again, I'd never cheated on him, had I? I left our bed, and walked over to the guest bedroom. I wasn't enough for my man. That was a difficult thing to face.

- ( . Y . ) -

I had a difficult day, pondering his confession, wondering how it would effect us. If only I hadn't insisted on going with him, allowed him to take me on a separate vacation. Nothing would be different today.

Perhaps not, but I still wouldn't be enough for him. I wouldn't be able to satisfy him. He wouldn't be proud of me.

He'd still be cheating on me, over and over again, with younger, prettier, sexier, more willing women.

Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't he give me a chance?

I thought about it, all the times over the years, the encouragement, the gentle pleading. The times I'd turned him down. The diets tried and failed. The unused fitness memberships. The afternoons spent watching my TV shows, rather than trying to be what he needed.

Every morning he was up at the crack of dawn to hit the gym. Every day at lunch he ran five miles to stay in shape. Me? My exercise was getting up to turn off the TV if I couldn't find the remote. Maybe an hour of housework each day, with the maids coming in twice a week to do the heavy cleaning.

My day was TV, shopping, reading, running a few household errands, hanging out with the other wives, hitting the cafe, gossiping. Ten bucks a day in Starbucks drinks alone, including tips.

I could change. I know I could, given a chance. I called the gym and verified I was still a member. David had never given up on me, keeping my dues paid. It was I who told him I still went occasionally, when he commented on my fitness. Gently of course. It still galled me.

My hair was a mess. I could grow it out for him. We could afford the best hair salons. I could throw myself on their mercy, let them make of me what they will.

I would never again say no to him in bed. I could put up with a little soreness, for my husband. I'm sure there was some way I could learn to accommodate him in my ass. That thought alone gave me shivers. He was just so damn big. Who were these women who could give him what I couldn't? What kind of freaks were they?

Then again, they only had to deal with his needs for a couple of days, not day after day for years!

I prepared a nice dinner, something substantial for him, lighter for me. I was going to diet. Diet and exercise. Nothing would stop me from being the best I could. That's all I could do, honestly. Be my best for him, and if that wasn't enough . . .

What if that WASN'T enough? What then?

He came home on time, as usual, and went through his regular motions. I saw him stop and inhale deeply, as his eyes searched for me. I had cleaned up the best I could, and waited wearing an apron.

"Something smells delicious," he said.

"Dinner's in thirty minutes. Dress down, relax, have a drink. I'll call you when it's ready." No word about our discussion of the night before.

He walked toward me, taking me in his arms as he always did. Hugging me, kissing me as if he'd been gone a week, not just a few hours. I melted.

"I love you, Anita. More than anything in the world," he confessed.

"I know. I love you too. Heart and soul."

That earned me another kiss. "I know."

I squirmed out of his hold. "Go. I'll call you in a bit."

- ( . Y . ) -

It wasn't until we went to bed, that we spoke of it. When he reached for me, his hand caressing my breast, advertising his need, I yielded to him. He was gentle, loving. Three times. After the second, I went down on him, to get him up again. I know he liked that. I never did it, but that was before. I could be what he needed.

He moaned deliciously as my mouth got him ready to go again. I thought it would take longer, but after only a few minutes he was dragging me up the bed, making me ride him. I knew I'd need to take some Tylenol in the morning, but that wasn't much of a price to pay.

When he was done, the bed was a mess. He helped me change the sheets, and we showered together, intimately. Back in bed, we cuddled.

"Was that better?" I finally asked, breaking the silence.

"It's always wonderful with you, Anita. I love you, and that changes everything."

"But still not enough."

He sighed deeply. "If we did that everyday, that and no more, no, it would still not be enough."

It was the anal. It had to be the fucking anal. "Do you want my ass, David? You can have it. I . . . I'll read up, figure out a way to be able to take you that way. I won't deny you. I love you so much, I never want to deny you anything."

He hugged me closer. "I still need more."

More? More than my ass? More than my blowjobs? More than loving him everyday until I wear him out? What the fuck!

His lips were brushing my forehead, sleepily, his hands still caressing my naked body. I was careful how I touched him. I was afraid he'd get excited and want to go again.

Damn it! Did he want to go again? Was that it? Was three times not enough? Maybe I should blow him. All the way to completion. That might do it.

Then again, from the sounds of things, maybe it wouldn't.

I had to do something! I wasn't enough for my man.

"I'm going to New York," I said firmly.

"No baby. That's my time. You need to understand—"

"I'm going, David. I have to. I do need to understand. I want to see. See what you do. See what these women do for you. What they can offer that I can't. I'm going with you and that's final."

He was quiet, holding me carefully. "I don't think it's a good idea, Anita."

"I'm your wife, damn it! I need to know! I want to be all you need. I want to do anything I can to make you happy. It's not right that you have to find someone else to satisfy you. Please, David! If you love me, if you love me at all, you'll help me to understand."

I don't know what he was thinking, as he lay there in silence. His hands stopped moving, stopped fondling me. "I think it's a mistake, but you know I can't deny you anything. I'll take you, but you can't interfere. You can watch, but you have to stay out of it. You understand? This is as much for your sake as mine."