A Real "Loving Wife's" Tale

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Julie's love comes through loud and clear.
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amyyum
amyyum
1,764 Followers

I met Brian, the man of my dreams, in college. While I was enamored of him the very first time that I saw him I didn't really think that I had a chance of even dating him, let alone a long standing relationship with him. He was so good looking, so witty, so kind, so smart, so charming, that he literally could have had his pick of any girl in our college, or even any female professor. His big blue eyes always seemed to be dancing, his muscular arms and chest heaving, and his lips pursing -- at least to me.

Every girl in my sorority flirted with Brian. The ones lucky enough to get dates with him swooned. Their only complaint was that he was too much of a gentleman. I still remember the comment Marg Simpson -- probably the girl with the biggest tits and finest ass that I have ever seen -- made after her third date with him. "How can the guy only want to make out and not fuck me? I even rubbed his cock and didn't wear any underpants and he didn't get down. I would have let him use my mouth, tits, pussy, or even ass!"

Sitting in the student union eating lunch one day, reviewing my notes for a quiz in my next class, Brian came up to my table and asked if he could sit with me. I was almost speechless. He was so pleasant and funny that I quickly became at ease. I ended up five minutes late for class, bombed the quiz because all I could think about was him, and was really pissed at myself for allowing myself to think that his friendliness was anything more than that.

Over the next few weeks it seemed that Brian always ended up at my table whenever I was in the student union, and then shocked the hell out of me by asking me out. He apparently took my shock for apprehension, and put his head down and started fumbling around apologizing for being "so forward." I surprised myself by lifting up his chin, looking into his eyes, smiling, and saying "I'd love to; what do you have planned?"

Our first date ended with a kiss, and the next two we made out. I was guarded, however, because I knew that I could fall completely for him instantly and couldn't believe that he wanted a long term relationship and was protecting myself from getting burned. Halfway through our fourth date we had a frank discussion.

"Julie, it seems that you're really holding back in our relationship. Is that a correct perception, or am I reading things wrong?" Brian said while holding my hands as we stood near a fountain in a local park.

I decided to be completely straight forward when I responded "I guess you're right. You're out of my league and I don't want to get burned, cause I could really easily fall for you."

He laughed. His laugh was a combination of a relieved and humorous one. "Are you serious?" he asked; "I honestly thought it was because you thought that you were out of my league."

"How could you ever get that impress..." I started to say before he drew me to him and gave me the most passionate kiss of my life.

When he finally let me come up for air he said "Let's both let ourselves be vulnerable and see where it leads us."

With a big smile I said "OK," then kissed him as passionately as he had kissed me.

Two dates later we had a magical sexual epiphany. Naked in his dorm room -- his roommate was out of town and the door locked -- his body looked even better than clothed, especially his beautiful stiff cock. His eyes -- and lips -- told me that he loved how my body looked too.

The times that I had had sex before Brian were more or less slam, bam, thank you ma'am. While enjoyable, they were far from earth-shattering. Brian was way different. He slowly sucked on my tits while massaging my pussy without penetrating it. I tried to get my hand on his dick, but he would cleverly move it away from me as he hopped from one nipple to the next. While I was in a semi-dreamlike state as he was sucking one nipple suddenly his mouth was on my clit and a finger in my pussy massaging my G-spot, until that moment something that I wasn't sure that I had.

I came harder than I ever had before in my life the instant that his tongue touched my clit and his finger entered my pussy. Then as his lips, tongue, and seemingly all ten fingers worked over my entire crotch I had another first -- multiple orgasms. All that I could do was moan, yelp, and hold onto his hair and shoulders.

I don't know how many orgasms I went through before he rose up, gently put my heels on his shoulders, and penetrated me. I had another orgasm the instant his cock entered my then very wet pussy. He pounded, then gently stroked, then pounded again until he unleashed a tsunami of cum into me when my pelvic floor muscles squeezed his dick. The last feeling I remember having was euphoria so far beyond my previous experience that it was in a different universe!

I recovered from my comatose state with Brian's cock still inside me, very gently stroking or wiggling as it gradually became flaccid. When he pulled out we laid cuddled together gently kissing each other. I then experienced another first -- orgasmic aftershocks! Each only lasted five or ten seconds, but they were spectacular. Brian was intermittently flinching too, off sync with my flinches, so I knew that he was experiencing them too. When we both experienced one at the same time as we passionately kissed we broke our kiss and laughed.

I will never forget looking into Brian's eyes the next morning and seeing something different -- there was a clear glint, almost like his sexual satisfaction was celebrating itself in his eyes. I vowed to make sure that that glint never disappeared.

From that night until about eighteen months ago I considered my sex life (in fact, my life in general) to be as close to perfect as possible. Brian's cock fit my pussy perfectly, we both loved to experiment with different positions, our bodies readily molded to each other, and our values, morals, goals, and personalities meshed perfectly. We were inseparable from that night forward, got married right out of college, and now, both having recently turned fifty, are still as in love as we were that night.

Except for about three weeks before and six weeks after I delivered each of our three children, and only two extended business trips that Brian took, the frequency and intensity of our sexual intercourse has never wavered. Having mind blowing sex five times a week was the rule more than the exception. The only time that the glint ever went out of Brian's eyes were the times that my body was unavailable due to child birth and his two extended trips. In both cases, the glint was back in his eyes by the second time that we made love once I was back in commission or he was back in town.

While both of us enjoyed oral sex, the orgasms from oral sex were usually mild. We tried anal only a couple of times and neither of us liked it at all; it was painful for me, and didn't turn Brian on. Brian did occasionally tit fuck me, but since when I'm not nursing my tits aren't very big or pliable, it was never that great for either of us. Vaginal sex was where it was at for both of us, as best I can remember never ceasing to result in mutual intense, earth-shattering, toe-curling orgasms.

Eighteen months ago, shortly before we turned fifty, with three adult children that we were immensely proud of, and two darling grandkids, things changed drastically. They didn't change for the reasons they often do on 'Loving Wives.' I never cheated on Brian, and I am positive that he never cheated on me either. There simply was no need or desire to. What changed was my vagina.

Over a period of about a month, my vagina started getting more and more sensitive during intercourse. At first I dismissed it, but when pain caused me to interrupt Brian within mid-stroke one night, we knew that there was a problem. He was extremely concerned and thought that he had done something wrong. I assured him that he had not, but that obviously there was something wrong. I promised him that I would see the doctor as soon as possible, and gave him a less than stellar blow job, although he went out of his way to thank me for it and remark about how great it made him feel.

I got an appointment with my OB/GYN, Dr. Mary Phillips, as soon as I could. In addition to a normal physical she gave me a pelvic MRI and an ultrasound. I went back to see her three days later -- three days without vaginal penetration of any kind, although I tried to give Brian the best blow jobs that I could -- when my blood work and analyzed test results came back.

After a few pleasantries, Dr. Phillips got right to the point. She is a no-nonsense medical professional and I always expected, and got, "the facts" from her during my pregnancies and normal checkups.

"Julie, the news isn't good. I've consulted with several colleagues, not just in my practice, but around the country. None have ever heard of someone having all three of the conditions that you have at the same time. Vaginismus, Endometriosis, and Pelvic inflammatory disease known as PID for short."

I groaned. "I don't know what they are, but they sound bad."

"Well one is real bad, and two can be. The treatment for one is exercise, the treatment for one is antibiotics, and there are three possible treatments for the third," she said with a stern expression.

"Lay them out in order of severity please," I said after taking a deep breath to steel myself.

"Vaginismus is treated by exercises, including the Kegel exercises you did while pregnant. I think that this condition was actually brought on by the other two and your body's reaction to them. If you follow through with the exercises within a few weeks this condition may be overcome, but that might not do you any real good."

"Great," I mumbled.

"PID is typically treated with antibiotics. Your PID is not an STD, but apparently due to the changes, for some unknown reason, in the microorganisms that comprise the vaginal flora in your reproductive system. We will have to experiment with various antibiotics until we get the right one, but hopefully over time the drugs will take care of this condition," she indicated.

"OK -- but why do I feel that the ax is now about to drop?" I replied.

Now it was Dr. Phillips' turn to take a deep breath before she continued. "Unfortunately, because the ax is about to drop. Your endometriosis is about the most severe that I've ever seen, and I'm surprised that you have lived as normally as you have."

"Exactly what is endometriosis doctor?" I inquired.

"It's a condition in which the endometrium, the tissue lining the uterus, grows outside the uterus. Normal treatment is with hormones or surgery, but neither are permanent nor are they expected to be particularly helpful in your situation because of the extensive nature of your problem. Even a hysterectomy may not be successful because 'implants' of the disease are all over your pelvic cavity, and they feed on estrogen, which is typically the hormone replacement therapy given after a hysterectomy," she replied, her voice cracking.

I sat stunned. "Do you have a recommendation?" I asked.

"I recommend both a partial hysterectomy and non-estrogen hormone therapy, but unfortunately the probability of relieving the pain sufficient for you to ultimately have normal sexual intercourse is small."

I collected all of the information that I could from Dr. Phillips, with the intention of starting the exercises and antibiotics immediately and discussing other options with Brian. It was a bad day -- a really bad day -- maybe the worst of my life.

I won't relate any more medical information to you because all of that is simply background, but will instead focus on the relevance to why this story is on this site.

Brian was devastated. The glint in his eyes disappeared after a couple of weeks when my symptoms not only didn't improve but got worse.

Certainly our lives did not revolve around sex -- but sex was always the whipped cream and cherry on top of the sundae of life. Five of the ten most memorable experiences of my life are completely dominated by sexual experiences with Brian.

Since sex had been an important part of my life ever since I met Brian losing it was even harder on me mentally than physically. Brian was as compassionate and understanding as possible, but the absence of the glint in his eyes told me that it was every bit as hard on him as it was on me. I tried my best to please him any way that I could, seeking out his cock to blow him or give him hand jobs whenever he gave even the slightest hint that he was interested in them or my less than stellar tit-fucking. However, for both of us they were a very, very poor substitute for vaginal sex.

We tried anal. To be honest, it hurt me almost as much as my conditions caused vaginal sex to hurt, but I tried to pretend that I enjoyed it. Brian was too perceptive for that. He realized after our first few times that I got less than nothing out of it, and he also didn't like it -- he never had when my pussy was working well, and my pussy being out of commission didn't seem to change that.

That left us in sexual hell -- or rather non-sex hell. While our non-sexual relationship was as good as it ever was I still constantly thought about what we had lost. I even went to see a physiatrist but simply could not put it out of my mind.

I eventually personally came to terms with my conditions, recognizing that I had simply lost an important part of my life -- but it was harder to come to terms with what Brian had lost. He had no physical problem; he was as sexy and potent as ever; yet my problem was now his and our problem.

In the process of coming to terms with my personal loss I went through various stages of grief. At first I was certain that Brian would look elsewhere for sexual satisfaction, even though I had no logical reason to believe that and even though his love for me showed absolutely no sign of wavering -- in fact he made every effort to treat me even better (if possible) without showing any signs of pity or sorrow.

It was at that stage of grief that I did something that I now hate myself for, although my physiatrist says that my feelings toward myself are too harsh given my situation. I tested Brian.

In the large metropolitan area that we live in there is an organization (that I'll call "RT") that advertises relationship testing. I personally went to see them to get all of the information possible about their services. In a nutshell, they collect as much personal information about the person to be tested (called "the target") as possible, and then put him or her into contact with someone of the opposite sex of roughly comparable age, attractiveness, and intelligence who subtly 'comes on' to them and records their reaction. Their operatives record the meetings with the target, give their best efforts to interest them, but do not do anything sexually overt and are absolutely forbidden -- on penalty of losing their job and being blackballed -- from actually having sex with the target.

Since Brian is about as attractive and intelligent as a fifty year old man can be, RT gave me their choice of their two best looking operatives between forty and fifty five years old. I insisted on meeting with both of them, something that RT does not normally allow or recommend, but my offer of double their normal fee convinced them.

Cheryl was forty five with long red hair, a flawless complexion, a pretty age-appropriate face, and a body that looked twenty five. She had a Masters' Degree in public relations, and was charming. I really worried about putting someone as attractive as her in contact with Brian for any reason, but had resolved to go through with it.

Denise was forty eight with medium length light brown hair, also with a pretty age-appropriate face. Her body was more age-appropriate than Cheryl's, but she had perfectly, for Brian's tastes, sized (that is large) and shaped (that is truly conical) knockers. She had a B. S. in marketing and was as charming as Cheryl was.

I asked both of them, when I interviewed them individually, why they worked part-time in relationship testing. They had the same response. They enjoyed the rush it gave them, they had both been cheated on in past relationships, and it was the easiest extra money that they could possibly imagine. Their wardrobes indicated that they knew how to spend the extra money that it brought in.

I hired both of them for two contacts each, first Denise and then Cheryl. I didn't want to know their plans for making contact, but I provided them sufficient information, and they had sufficient flexibility in their normal work schedules, to figure out appropriate scenarios.

After two months Mark, the director of RT, gave me a final report. "Brian passed with flying colors. He was polite, considerate, friendly -- and totally uninterested. Both Denise and Cheryl gave it their best in two contacts each. In fact, they both indicated to me that if they had been able to get Brian into a sexual relationship they gladly would have given up their careers in relationship testing. Considering those statements I think that you can assume that they gave it their all, because neither has said anything like that before."

I smiled broadly, but instantly was filled with guilt.

"Do you want to hear the recordings?" Mark asked.

"No thanks -- your verbal report is all that I need. Can I settle my bill in cash?" I replied.

"No problem," Mark smiled as I counted out my guilt-tainted money.

That night I resolved the myriad of conflicting ideas and emotions that had been wracking havoc on me for months. I knew what I needed to do. Brian deserved to be as happy as he possibly could be, I had no doubt of his undying love for me, and I wanted to show him how much I loved him.

The very next day, after I gave Brian the best blow job that I could muster and we cuddled as he thanked me profusely I hit him with my plan.

"Brian, you have no doubt that I love you with all my heart, do you?"

After giving me a perplexed look he said "Of course not; and you can't have any doubt about my love for you either, can you?"

"Absolutely no doubt," I replied. "It is because of our deep loving relationship that I need to ask you to do something for me; something that I need to make me happy."

"Sure, Julie -- you know that I want you to be happy."

"Brian -- I can't be happy knowing that you're not sexually satisfied. I want you to establish a sexual relationship, specifically including vaginal sex, with someone else."

He first laughed; then seeing no smile on my face he said "What, are you crazy. I don't need vaginal sex to be happy."

"Brian, I know you better than you know yourself. While I know that you would never cheat on me, it wouldn't be cheating. It would be the opposite -- it would be something that makes you happy that I can no longer do for you, and I'll never be happy unless you are." I tried to be stoic, but tears started falling at the end of my statement.

After a significant pause he responded "Julie, you'll be better someday -- I can wait; I don't want anyone except you."

"Be realistic, Brian; the chances of me getting better are slim and none. If I do get better, you can break it off. Think about it, but think about it not in the context of possibly hurting me, but in the context of making the person I love with all of my mind, body, and soul happy."

"I can tell you right now, no way -- you can put it out of your mind," he replied, a little more sternly than I expected.

I knew that would be his initial reaction, but I don't give up when I think I'm right about something. I never have, and certainly never would when the happiness of the person most important to me in the entire world is at stake. So every other day I brought up the subject again.

I was subtle, direct, forceful, joking, serious, pleading, persistent, but never, ever, nagging, and discussed it only when we were being as intimate as we could be. It took more than two months but one day after I had unintentionally flinched badly when he inadvertently came into contact with my pussy, followed by the best blowjob that I could give him, when I brought it up yet again he had a different response.

amyyum
amyyum
1,764 Followers
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