"As Told to" Sexual Histories: Alan

I was attracted to Holly from the start. I didn't know what to do with the fact that she had a serious boyfriend, so I just ignored it. One day as we were leaving class, she asked me if I wanted to go for a run. We ran down the Westside Highway. She looked great in shorts and a tank top. When we had run about two miles, we stopped and walked for a while. I don't know what it was about the moment, but we were just looking at each other, and then the next moment we were kissing. I don't even remember who made the first move. It was spontaneous and almost magical. We ran back to her apartment very quickly, and when we got inside, she unceremoniously stripped off her clothes, and kissed me again. We maneuvered ourselves over to her bed. I told her I didn't have a condom, and she just said, "Shh--it's okay." She was really wet, and I just slipped my cock into her, and we made love until it got dark.

Holly and I slept together two or three nights a week, and every other weekend, she would go up to Boston to see her boyfriend, or he would come down to New York to see her. On some weekends, they wouldn't see each other. Their schedule was complicated by the fact that it was football season and there was a game every Saturday.

Our sex life was good, but conventional. She did a few things that were new to me. For example, she would often stop in the middle of intercourse to suck my cock. It helped to extend how long I could go without coming. Whenever she sensed I might be getting close to coming, she would stop and suck hard on my cock, and somehow that would have the effect of preventing me from coming for a while. It was also very sexy.

She also liked having me come on her face or body, although that might have been partly because she didn't like swallowing cum. She said it wasn't the taste, but the consistency she didn't care for. The couple of times she let me come in her mouth, she spit it out. She was also one of the few women who liked being on top. We did have anal sex a couple of times, but she said she had never done that with anyone else. I assume that meant her boyfriend, as well.

We never talked about her boyfriend, during sex or otherwise. I didn't really want to know about him, especially knowing that he was a football player. Unless he was the kicker, he was most likely much bigger than me. I did see him once when he was visiting, from afar. I was surprised that I didn't feel much jealousy toward him.

After a couple of months, I thought there was an opportunity to ask her to make a choice, and I believed that she might have chosen me. But I decided I was content to leave things as they were. It was perfect for my noncommittal mindset. I was having great sex with a beautiful woman, but I didn't have to worry about whether she was the right one for me.

In trying to decide whether Holly was right for me, I was put off by her bad taste in music as well as her lack of interest in reading. But mainly, I was bothered by the ease with which she cheated, and how she integrated two men into her life without thinking too much about it. I probably shouldn't have judged her too harshly about that. I know now that love is complicated and a lot of times you just roll with what comes your way.

Things changed after our grades came out after first semester exams. Holly did spectacularly, and my grades were mediocre. My poor performance somehow changed her ideas about me, I think. It was like she was disappointed in me. Holly applied to transfer to Harvard, and was accepted, and broke it off with me. I think I half expected it, and it wasn't the heartbreak I experienced when Alison broke up with me.

I had a friend who cruised undergraduate parties at different schools in the city, and he badgered me to go to several with him. He was spectacularly successful with women, and always met someone to sleep with at these parties. I wasn't as lucky. Part of it was that I just couldn't get into the idea of going out with someone who was still in college, even though they were only a year or two younger than me.

In other words, I was a complete dweeb. But one night, we went to a party at NYU, and I met a Chinese American woman with an amazing body. I couldn't take my eyes off her, and she must have noticed because she came up to me and introduced herself. Amy was smart, and sweet, and she took me to her apartment and fucked me. She had a tiny room in an apartment she shared with two other women. After we used the two condoms I had, she told me to go to the pharmacy to get more. We fucked all night, and I didn't leave until morning.

Amy was in the process of breaking up with her boyfriend, it turned out, and I thought that maybe I was just the one-time rebound guy. But we saw each other four or five times a week during the next two months as she extricated herself from her relationship. It felt weird to be "the other guy" for the second time. I know there were even a couple of times when Amy had sex with her boyfriend during that time. But I was willing to wait things out.

Eventually, they officially broke up. Things didn't change between us, and I always wondered if it would have been better for us if I had just waited until she had completely broken things off before I started a relationship with Amy.

I always thought of Amy as being inexperienced, but that wasn't really the case. She had slept with more people than I had. I had a total of four women on my list before I met Amy. She had slept with at least twice as many partners as I had, although I didn't ever know for sure because she was so reluctant to talk about it.

We dated for a year, and then she moved into my apartment in my third year of law school after she had finished college, over her parents' objections. We were married after I finished taking the bar exam.

Things went terribly wrong after we were married for one year. And that's kind of an understatement.

I went out of town for a weekend to take some meaningless depositions, the kind of things law firms let junior associates do to get their feet wet. But I finished a day early, and flew back home on Saturday instead of Sunday. I didn't call Amy because we didn't have cell phones then, and I thought I would just surprise her.

I ended up being the one surprised when I opened the apartment door to see Amy being fucked violently by a strange man. She was draped over the arm of our sofa, and he was ramming her from behind. My first thought was that she was being raped. Amy saw me first, and her eyes went wide in shock. She didn't say anything, but gestured to the man to stop. Instead, he just smirked and kept pounding her. He was looking me in the eye, maybe daring me to stop him, but I just stood there. Later, I wondered if I should have pulled him off of my wife, or punched him. I felt emasculated by my inaction, although I suppose the emasculation had already occurred.

Amy also didn't seem to try to get away from him, either. Suddenly, she cried out, "Oh my god, yes, oh my fucking god!" The guy was then coming inside her, just slowly slamming his dick inside her for the final few times before pulling out. Then I saw how big his cock was. In my memory, it's probably bigger than it actually was, but it was certainly much bigger than my cock. The whole scene was surreal. I also noticed that he wasn't using a condom.

Then, as he stood there naked, with his dick just hanging there and without any kind of embarrassment or shame, he said to me: "You the husband?"

I nodded, and he said to Amy, "You fucking bitch, you said he wasn't going to be here."

Then he got dressed, and before he left, he said to me: "Sorry, man, no hard feelings, okay?"

I just stared at my naked wife in disbelief. I mean, we had only been married for a year. I didn't think she was capable of anything like this. I had no way of processing what had happened. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it if Amy had confessed to me.

Amy went into the bedroom to get dressed. After a while, when she hadn't come out, I went into the bedroom, and she was sitting on the bed.

"What's going on?" I asked. "Who was that guy?"

"His name's Paul," she said. "I met him six months ago."

Six months ago? And I thought we were still in the honeymoon phase of our marriage.

"So, are you in love with him?" was my next question.

"I don't know," she said.

"Are you leaving me?" I asked.

"No, of course not," she said.

"Then what's going on?" I aked.

"I don't know," she said. "I don't want to talk about it."

I said that we had to talk about it, that I needed to know what was going on. I think she knew she had no choice, and started to tell me what was happening. She had been introduced to Paul through someone at work when a group of colleagues were having a drink after work. When everyone else left, she and Paul were there alone at the bar. Paul suggested that they go somewhere, and she knew what he meant by that, and she thought it was outrageous that he would propose such a thing, but she went anyway.

They drove to a motel, where they had sex. Like most men, I wanted to hear details about the sex. It probably would have been better if I never heard what happened. But what they did didn't sound like sex, it sounded more like she was brutalized by him. Her description of what they did left me shaken.

I am still surprised that she told me what he did to her. I wondered if she enjoyed torturing me with the details. He routinely fucked her up the ass and fisted her pussy. He would even fist her ass. They didn't use a condom, and he didn't clean himself after being in her ass and before putting his cock in her pussy. She would even suck his dick after it had been in her ass.

They had sex regularly. They would see each other two or three times a week. She usually met him at a hotel or a motel. She went to his house once or twice. He had a long-term girlfriend that he lived with. They had had sex at our apartment a few times. They met during lunch time, or after work. She let him come inside her even though she wasn't on the pill.

I hate to be overly dramatic, but I really felt at that point like I would never be happy again. I had thought that no one could hurt me as Alison had, but this was pain on a different level. When Alison broke up with me, I cried. This time, I didn't cry because I was too numb. It was way too much for me to even process. In the end, I just tried not to think about it.

These revelations put me into a kind of shock. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I couldn't believe that my wife--or anybody--would engage in this kind of behavior. But it also provided an explanation for some things that I had been unhappy about. Our sex life had really dropped off after we were married, and I was unhappy about that. I thought that perhaps Amy suffered from having a low sex drive. Now I realized that Amy did like sex, but had been too busy to have the energy to have sex with two people. Or maybe she just didn't enjoy sex with me.

But I was also optimistic that we could save our marriage, and that our sex life might actually improve. I thought that her misbehavior would put me into the driver's seat as far as our sex life was concerned. I thought that she would be eager to make it up to me, and be grateful that I wasn't going to leave her. But that turned out to be wrong. After my discovery of her affair, I wanted her even more, but she seemed to lose even more interest in having sex with me.

I gave her time, reasoning that she would need time to get over this confusing time, and to reorient herself. But three months later, as I was walking to have lunch with a friend, I saw Amy in a car with Paul. Later that day, she admitted that she was still meeting Paul for sex, once or twice a week. I think I was just starting to feel normal again, and this put me into another emotional tailspin.

I couldn't figure out what was going on, and why. I blamed myself for Amy's behavior. I thought about our sex life, and decided that I probably hadn't been enough for her. Like most men, I jumped to the conclusion that Amy preferred men with huge cocks. I had seen Paul's penis, and there was no comparison.

I really should have left her then, but I felt that losing my wife would be too humiliating. Fixing my marriage seemed like the more manly thing to do. So that's what I tried to do. Amy said her relationship with Paul was over. I believed her this time. Her unexpected absences stopped. She stopped working late. We resumed our sex life, although she didn't seem that excited about it, or want to have sex all that often. Given what had happened when I first met her, I couldn't help but think that maybe I was being phased out.

But I still wanted her, sexually. If anything, I wanted her even more than I ever had. But there was a twist to my desire for her: Every time we had sex, I imagined her having sex with Paul. Well, I didn't have to imagine it, because I had seen it. But I would think about it, and it would make me hard, and when I thought about it while fucking Amy, it would make the sex so intense, more intense than I had ever felt. I would tell Amy about it, but she wasn't interested in participating in my fantasies about her.

I would think about how Paul fucked her so hard, like nothing I'd ever seen before. I would think about his huge cock going in and out of her pussy. And I would think about how hard she came, even with me standing there in front of her, yelling, "Oh my god, oh my fucking god!"

Then I noticed that Amy liked talking about different men from time to time. It was almost like she would get a crush on a guy at her office from time to time, and couldn't stop talking about him. I realized that she had always done this, but I hadn't seen it for what it was, her roving eye, an attraction to different men. And then I would fantasize about her fucking her latest crush.

Still, Amy had no interest in taking part in my cuckolding scenarios. I would ask her: "Do you want to have sex with Don? Do you think he has a big cock?" But she just didn't want to play. After a while, I asked her, practically begged her, to pretend that she had already had sex with different men she knew, but she refused. She acted shocked that I would ask such a thing. At one point, I desperately wanted her to have sex with someone else, as long as she would talk to me about it afterwards. Of course, this was not something I could even discuss with her.

Amy instead acted as if her affair never happened. All she wanted to talk about was having a baby. I wasn't ready for that, given what had happened, but she had no trouble with it.

In some ways, my relationship with Amy was just a replay of my relationship with Alison. Even though we were both Chinese American, my family wasn't as well-educated or wealthy as Amy's. Amy's parents were from well-to-do families who had immigrated to the U.S. to escape the Communists. My family was Cantonese, and although we had come to the US several generations ago, we hadn't gotten very far. It was kind of comical: my father's family had a Chinese restaurant, and my mother's family had a laundry somewhere in their past.

I suspected that Amy felt superior to me because of our backgrounds. Her family was wealthier, and all of her siblings were successful. Amy's mother was a doctor and her father had a successful business. My father was a postal worker and my mother worked part time as a retail clerk. I was moderately successful, but my brother worked as a longshoreman, and my sister worked at the Costco.

I don't know how the differences between us played a role in her cheating, but I feel that it must have been a factor. I would love to talk to Amy about it, but she hasn't been open to talking about it, even now, years later.

It was sometime after this that I met Laurie. Laurie was a lawyer at another firm. I met her working on a case where her firm and my firm represented co-defendants in a securities and banking fraud case. My firm's client had only minor exposure in the case, and we expected to be out of the case at some point, so the firm had no trouble sending a junior associate to meetings on the case.

Laurie was a senior associate, about six years older than me. She was married, and had a three-year-old son. Laurie was gorgeous, the kind of woman that men stare at. She made Alison seem like a plain Jane. She could have easily passed as a supermodel. She was 5 foot 8, with an unbelievable body, although I didn't really appreciate her body at first. I was mesmerized by her beautiful face.

It was kind of love at first sight for both of us. After the meeting, when the other lawyers had left, we sat and talked in her office for an hour or so. The second meeting was held at the offices of another firm. After the meeting, the two of us stayed in the conference room and talked for what must have been two hours. At some point, someone came in and asked us to leave. I walked her back to her office as if I were a middle schooler walking a girl home from school.

After the third meeting, she asked me if I wanted to get a drink afterwards. If she hadn't asked first, I was going to. I don't know why I felt so at ease around her, but it just felt as if we were meant to be together. That first drink was the most romantic moment of my life. Of course, we just talked, but the sexual tension was palpable. Many times I almost reached out to touch her hand, but I didn't. We talked for hours, and I was shocked when I looked at my watch and saw that it was almost ten o'clock. Being lawyers, we both had spouses that were used to us working late, but I still felt quite guilty as I drove home.

The next day, Laurie called me at the office. We hadn't been talking very long when she suggested that we meet at a hotel. I couldn't believe that she would just come out and say it. Of course, I said yes. She told me to get a room tomorrow at this hotel that was downtown, a pretty nice one, and to call her with the room number.

The next day, I went to the hotel at lunch time, got a room, and called Laurie with the information. I could barely work the rest of the afternoon because I kept thinking about being with her. We had agreed to meet at six, but I couldn't wait any longer, and went to the hotel at 5:30. I had kind of hoped to find her there in the lobby waiting for me, but she wasn't.

Going early turned out to be kind of a mistake. An hour later, Laurie still wasn't there. If I had gotten there at the right time, she would only be half an hour late, I tried to tell myself, but having been there for an hour made me anxious and irritable. To make matters worse, I kept getting undressed and then putting my clothes back on.

When it was seven, and she was officially an hour late, I seriously considered leaving and gong home. I tried calling her office, but she wasn't picking up her phone. But a few minutes after seven, there was a knock on the door, and she was at the door. All the annoyance that had built up inside me just melted away in an instant. She took my face in her hands and kissed me passionately.

She took my shirt off, and admired my body, which shocked me. I had been feeling bad about myself since Amy's infidelity, and didn't think of myself as being physically desirable. But I worked out regularly and was in good shape. I had just stopped thinking of myself that way.

The sight of Laurie's naked body was a bigger shock. As beautiful as she was with her clothes on, I could not have imagined how perfect her body was. She had perfectly sized breasts that were firm and nicely shaped. Her belly was completely flat, even though she claimed that she didn't have time for the gym. What I had never realized before because I had always seen her in skirts and dresses was that she had a flawless ass--soft, but exquisitely shaped, like a Roman statue. She could have easily been a swimsuit model.