A Very Personal Christmas Gift

It’s been a long time coming. I’d lie down beside her in the short winter evenings and it would seem she just wouldn’t be there. Gone, absent some place. I wasn’t used to it, at least not from her. I’ve always been a bit anti-social compared to her flitting nature, but she had always been so happy with me before. Nevertheless, there had been 12 years of marriage and I was not oblivious to the changes that can come about.

Foraging in the chat rooms, the busy schedules of caring parents, I was a part of the whole scene. But I never remembered a time so distant as before this last Christmas party for her company and co-workers.

She tended to pretend to be as anti-social as I am, though I never quite believed. Of course, during the quietness that ensued after her latest one, she must have expected some prodding from me. Especially as I was not invited, and she didn’t come home until close to 5 a.m. in the morning.

The day following, she had seemed a bit depressed, or a bit distant. I couldn’t tell which. She attended to the children as normally as ever, but there was a palpable feeling of distance between me and her, which I never addressed, until one night several days after the party, when she rolled over in bed, embraced me forcefully, and said, “I love you.”

I was a bit taken aback. “What brought all this on?” I asked. I was serious, and thought it to be an easy enough question, but she laid her sweet head against my shoulder and began to weep.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. Her weeping gradually subsided into sighs and long breaths, but she kept a tight hold of me, an action I had not experienced in quite some time, so it will be understood that it had an anatomical effect on me. She must have felt my growing desire, because she pushed away slightly, as though feeling guilty for causing it.

“There’s been a change,” she said, bluntly.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” I asked, with my sleepiness vanishing like a cloud.

“The night of the party. I did something that – it’s going to change things, John.”

Now I was silent, and I couldn’t figure how to break it. A thousand questions raced through my mind. I had told her a thousand times, “I’m not jealous of you,” and yet here I was, and I was jealous and worried. I knew it was something sexual, because anything else, and it would have been matter-of-fact, easy communication. There was only one subject that caused her to be so shy.

Eventually, then, after a long and awkward silence during which we almost held each other, I asked, “Well what is so terrible that it makes it so difficult for you to talk to me?”

Again, there was a long and awkward silence. “There are some things I haven’t been telling you about,” she said. And that’s all she said, and I could feel beneath the flimsy fabric of my boxers, my penis was addled, wiggling in confusion, not really knowing what to do, and leaking love juices nevertheless.

There is really no good way to walk across a bridge of nails; no good way to swim through fire; no good way to impale oneself on a bed of thorns. “Okay,” I said, and then I merely thought of the possibilities. A thousand thoughts coursed through me in only a few seconds.

She must love me, I thought, first, since she is even talking. Also, she was as uncomfortable as I with the distance I’d felt the past few days. I wondered if she’d had sex with another man? Another woman? We’d broached all these subjects long ago, and I almost laughed, and would have if not for her serious mood, when I asked, “Well can you tell me about it?”

“I want to,” she said, and once again, left me in the dark.

Now taking her more seriously, I said, “Well, I did notice that you came home rather late. There must have been something going on.” Now I did dare to chuckle a little bit. “Oh come on, how serious can it be? Did you get a little bit drunk and do it with another guy?”

Now, her long silence seemed odd, and to my surprise, I began to entertain fantasies that that is exactly what happened, and I was surprised to find my love organ writhing in subdued excitement, not to mention wetness.

A couple of times she glanced up in the bedroom darkness to meet my eyes with hers. I could just make out her open eyes in the darkness, flashing dimly from the Christmas lights somehow penetrating our bedroom curtains. But she would look down again, too quickly, and she didn’t draw me any closer, still keeping her distance. The distance was now beginning to seem like torture.

“You’re my best friend,” she eventually said, without looking at my eyes this time. My mind, by now, was doing gyrations, trying to brace itself for any possible consequence. I kept waiting and waiting for the next part, but it never came. I swallowed, wanting to press my body against hers, make her feel my heart pounding out its lust for her. But there was something up, it wasn’t right, and I knew it. So I waited.

When it seemed that my waiting was all that was left, I finally asked, “And?”

Silence has a rhythm all its own. Amanda had always played it perfectly, and tonight was no exception. “John,” she said: “I kind of fell in love with another man.”

I was (I fancied) prepared for almost anything but this. We’d been sexually adventurous, accepting, liberal, open and honest. My pronouncement of long ago came back to haunt me: “Amanda, I love you. If you tire of me, if you have to move on, I’ll want you to go; I don’t want to own you, I only want the privilege of loving you.” I disliked hearing the echo of my own voice from years ago.

Perhaps it was my occupation as a financial analyst that allowed me to find my voice again and say: “Okay. And so, what are the options now?” My soul wanted to add, “my love,” but something inside wouldn’t let me. As adequately as I thought I had conquered jealousy, in my liberal beliefs and sexual fantasizing, this situation was too much.

“You have to hear the rest of it,” she said. I tried to think of something to respond with.

I was still struggling when she spoke again. “You’re still my best friend!” I could hear her swallow.

“Did you have sex?” I asked. A heartbeat passed, and she turned over on her back and began to laugh. I didn’t think it was so funny.

“Oh no!” she finally said, catching her breath. “That’s the idiocy of it.”

“I don’t understand,” I finally stuttered.

“I know. I’ll have to explain it,” she offered.

Now, I don’t know how most people would react in this sort of situation, but the truth is, I love, and have loved for as long as I can remember, my wife Amanda. Against what I normally would have expected from myself, I felt not anger, but compassion. I remembered my early days, before Amanda, when I had been so enamored of girls who wouldn’t give me a second glance. I knew what that felt like. And so, for some reason, I was able to go on having this conversation without becoming upset.

“Amanda,” I said, “I’m sorry. I wanted you to love only me, for always.”

“I do love you!” she said. “Oh, this is hard.”

It’s odd, how understanding can lag so far behind knowledge. Although we’d been distant the past several days, I never felt her lack of love, so I had the knowledge that she loved me. But it was hard to understand what was going on. Now, my understanding started to catch up.

“Do you want to talk about what happened at the party?”

“Nothing happened! That’s just it!”

“Oh,” I said, slow to catch on. “You wanted something to happen.”

Here was another one of those long, uncomfortable silences. “Yes,” she said, “I wanted something to happen, and I stayed until midnight, trying to make it happen.”

Now, here I am, with almost nothing on, in bed with my wife, also with almost nothing on, trying to fashion a response to this new information. And yet, she has just expressed her love for me. I’ve also remembered my pronouncement from years before, and I wonder now if I am just a bad liar.

Befuddlement was overtaking me. She did something, but nothing happened. She stayed at the party until midnight, but didn’t come home until 5 a.m.

I felt at this point that I had to decide whether I was her ally or her enemy. I swear, it was hard to decide, because I couldn’t tell what she wanted. Does she want a future with me? Does she want to continue raising the children with me? Does she want freedom? Am I boring her?

Oddly, I think some decisions come without warning. And sometimes without a lot of reason. For whatever reason, I determined I would be her ally, come what may. It’s a decision I’ve not regretted.

“I’m so sorry,” I finally said. Now, she looked at me with those big, soft cow eyes that made me fall in love with her in the fist place.

“You’re kidding,” she said, tentatively.

“No, I’m not.” I thought back to our first days together, when her college roommate had been so flirty. There was a time, I imagined being in love with both of them. And I’d never told her about the episode with her roommate, either. But I might find the chance, if we grew into the sort of relationship Amanda seemed to be wanting.

“So, do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

“Yes, and no,” she said. I understood this. I had already taken due mental note of what she described next:

“I’ve felt the gulf between us the past several days. I know it’s my fault, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” I said. “You know I haven’t liked going through this, but I must say, it does help me to understand, knowing why. At least partially.”

Finally, she hugged me close again. “Please forgive me,” she said, “I don’t want to confuse you.”

“It’s okay, you know I like being close with you.” I know she could feel my hardness against her abdomen. In fact, I didn’t seriously doubt that she could feel the wetness flowing beyond the fabrics of our bedtime dress. “If it’s just a matter of sex, Amanda, you know I like adventure and trying new stuff. There’s an element of thinking about you feeling adventurous that turns me on a lot. I guess the confusing part is not knowing what comes next, what it is that you want.”

It must have been those things that upset her anew, for she turned over and crunched her pillow with her arm. “Maybe I should have talked about it with somebody else. But you’re my best friend!”

“You’ve said that for a third time,” I replied. “Now let me ask you, are you sure?”

“I think so.”

“Ok then, what are best friends for?”

She was so still I could almost feel the movement when she batted her eyes, and I imagined I could almost hear her thoughts.

“Does it mean,” she asked, “that I can share my innermost self with you?”

“Yes, it does,” I replied. My sex organ had retreated, leaving behind a substantial slippery wet spot on itself and my shorts, and I was approaching becoming rational and reasonable again.

“Ok,” she said. “Please. Try pretending you’re nothing more than a best friend for just a little while, and I’ll talk to you, okay?”

“I’ll try. But I’d like to clear up a confusion. First you said something happened, and then you said nothing happened. Which was it?”

She put her hand over her eyes. The kids had been asleep for an hour, and I looked covetously at Amanda’s form under her semi-transparent nightgown. Light from the holiday displays was finding its way through our windows, illuminating her sheer gown as though she was a living Christmas ornament. I stared in awe at her still-perfect breasts, the dark nipples under the cloth like a thin layer of fog; her thin yet supple abdomen, rising to the lovely, rounded gathering of pubic hair at her crotch. I still wanted her body, still worshipped it, and it occurred to me that I was amazed that any other man could have it offered to him, and turn it down.

“Both,” she finally replied. I just waited for her to go on, as this didn’t clear anything up for me at all.

“I’ve been looking Tony over for a long time. Not that there’s anything all that wrong here, but our lives aren’t all that exciting either. It occurred to me that if I wanted to fit in a little excitement, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. And if I was going to, I’d like it to be Tony,” she said. “He’s steady, predictable. He’s smart, always has something interesting to say, and he makes me laugh. All that, and he has a gorgeous body, too.” Her hand finally dropped away and she looked my way again. “I’ve been flirting with him for a while now, at work. Whenever I have the chance. And I thought he was responding.”

“I see,” I said, but I was still a long way from seeing. “Did you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about all this?”

“I thought about it,” she said. “But the truth is, we’re usually so busy, it’s really hard to find a good time to talk. And actually, I didn’t want you in on it. I didn’t want you to get mad about it, and I didn’t want you to be excited by it. I wanted something just for me.”

“So what’s different now?” I asked.

“I just can’t handle it any more,” she sighed. “I still don’t have anything at that end, and now I see that what I don’t have is pushing me apart from my best friend, and I never wanted that, either.”

I reached over and laid my hand on her chest, and gently stroked with my thumb where my hand lay. “You have a good heart, Amanda. We’ve been going through some hard years.”

She lay her hand on top of mine. I could see tears welling up in her eyes.

“Well I guess I sort of understand what didn’t happen, but what did happen?” I asked.

She took a deep breath and sighed as she wiped the moisture from her eyes. “Well you know how our parties are.” She was right, I did. Working at one of the larger ad agencies in town has the dubious benefit of getting to become friends with some of its craziest characters. “We were all getting pretty tipsy by midnight, of course, and I’d been fawning all over Tony most of the evening.” Here she looked at me, and I checked myself to make sure I was still being the friend she requested, keeping my reactions neutral. She must have been satisfied, because she continued.

“I could have sworn I was getting to him. Finally we’d moved past the wordy flirting stuff and I was touching him shamelessly. So while George launches into another one of his raucous stories, Tony asks me if I’d like to get some air on the patio, and I thought to myself, ‘Finally! This is it!’ So we get out there, all alone, and he’s quiet for a minute. I stand at the railing and I’m waiting for him to come up behind me and take me in his arms, you know?” I didn’t know, but I nodded. She rolled over on her side to look at me, apparently encouraged by my seeming neutrality. “But then he takes my arm like this,” she said, and she gently grasped my upper arm. “I turn around and look at his face, and he’s looking at me with this horrible sad look, all distant and everything. And he tells me I’m so sweet and beautiful, and…”

Tears were gathering in her lovely eyes again. “And what, Ammy?”

She buried her face in her pillow and practically spit out the muffled words: “And that he’s gay!” A couple of sobs coursed through her torso. She seemed to need to rest from that part of the story. I tenderly squeezed her shoulder and just waited. After a little while, she lifted her pretty head out of the pillow and faced me again, but not meeting my eyes. “I feel like such a fool! Aren’t you supposed to be able to tell? And whatever happened to coming out of the closet? I mean, this guy should have been an actor or something. I swear there’s no clue at work; he flirts right back, ogles the shoots of the hot young models, the whole deal! I just felt so humiliated!”

I didn’t know what to say, and I seemed to be no closer to finding out what actually happened that night that she hadn’t told me about. “I can understand that,” I ventured. “But I guess you can’t always tell. Maybe he has special reasons for hiding it.”

She nodded, pulling herself close, and laying her head against my chest. “His dad is in politics, and his mom doesn’t even know. He asked me to please not tell. But I had to tell someone.” She looked up at me with the trust of a little girl, the first time I’d seen that look in ages, and I instantly melted.

My cock was apparently done with being confused, because it leapt against her thigh like a drawn sword, and my heart skipped a beat as all my senses converged on the object of my desire, this beautiful woman at my side. The aroma of her long hair filled my nostrils as I kissed it, caressing her firm smooth back. I moved my lips to her temple, her eye, her cheek, and greedily found her mouth. She kissed me back passionately, and her form relaxed and fitted itself onto my body like a magnet.

I tugged at her gown to find its edge, and ran my hand up her naked thighs onto her ripe, firm buttocks to the small of her back. We continued kissing for what seemed like a geologic age as my heart felt her thumping heart and I continued feeling every square inch of her nakedness in back. Her long, warm fingers lightly caressed the nape of my neck, and we kept kissing hungrily, touching teeth and tongue, swallowing each other’s saliva, breathing each other’s breath. She played her fingers down my back as though it were her old piano, an arpeggio of love, and my cock lay aching and throbbing against her hard, flat tummy.

There are times when you want to undress completely; times you plan for, to admire your partner’s body, and other times, when there’s no hurry and clothes get in the way. Tonight was not one of those nights.

She tugged at me with her hand at my back and pulled away from our kissing to offer me her neck, which my lips fell on ravenously. My whole body was aching by now and responded to her flimsiest physical hints. I rolled over above her and at the barest touch of her other hand, my erection fell free, out from my soggy boxers, as I lifted the hem of her gown just high enough to spread some of my still flowing juices onto her soft bush.

I held myself above her and looked into her eyes as I shifted my position, gently and carefully, as though I were landing a giant aircraft, until I could feel the wet tip of my rod just touching the lips of her vagina.

“I’m afraid this may not last long,” I whispered.

“I don’t care,” she whispered back. “Give it to me, please!”

And I did.

I relish the details of the sex act. I don’t know if that’s odd or not. All I know is that when my aching organ is able to begin the journey it was created for, I seem to come alive in a new way. After gliding into her cozy, warm pussy, we found the right rhythm, a bit slow this time. She nodded and smiled. “Yes!” she whispered, and tilted her head back a bit and closed her eyes.

But I continued to hold myself up and look at this amazing woman as I fucked her steadily. I noticed the little flat mole on her right cheek. I watched a wisp of hair lying over her forehead bouncing lightly there where it lay, as though it were a conductor’s baton in an orchestra, keeping perfect time to our lovemaking. I inhaled deeply of the sweet stink we were creating, and I felt the light cloth of my boxer shorts flopping against my thighs as I humped this beautiful woman.

I watched Amanda squeezing her eyes tight, then relaxing; opening her mouth to breathe. I listened to her breath, occasionally turning into a whispered groan of pleasure. I felt her hands alternately caressing, then clawing into my shoulders. I watched the wrinkles in her pillow moving, and vaguely sensed this was somehow related to the intense pleasure that was overflowing from my loins into the rest of my being.

“Yes,” she whispered again, and some cloudy part of my analytical mind wondered what I had done to draw that word from her mouth. I felt her arms drop away, and her hands come up to cradle my face. My face was wet; she stroked the sweat back into my hair and pulled at me. Our rocking was faster now, but still not hurried. I saw her eyes squint shut and not relax this time.