Getting rid of Roger

My sex drive has always been lower than my wife's a situation compounded by a high stress job with long working hours.

The inevitable result was that the frustration led my wife to seek her sexual relief elsewhere.

She has always been very discrete about it, sneaking them into the bedroom and taking her pleasure when I was at work.

I guessed what was going on of course, because her sexual demands on me reduced.

She seemed happier and more content, so I feigned ignorance and went along with it.

Not that they never lasted long anyway. She was always wearing them out or getting bored and dumping them in favour of something new and exciting.

I wasn't jealous, because I knew it was only ever about the sex that I couldn't give her. Nothing more.

Until Roger.

Roger was different.

It probably started the same as all the others - a chance encounter in a shop or online forum. Or possibly one of her friends introduced them.

Either way, Roger joined the long list of those that had filled her lonely pussy and driven her to heights of ecstasy on those long, lonely, nights whilst I was working late.

Except Roger could do it better.

So much better.

She told me later that when Roger entered her, there was always a magical tingling sensation deep inside her core, and that Roger had a way of sensitively massaging her clit whilst fucking her that sent chills through her and never failed to give her the most powerful and satisfying orgasms she'd ever experienced.

She started making demands on me less and less until eventually she stopped asking at all.

I'd been particularly busy at work so didn't notice at first. But then I realised, we hadn't made love for at least a couple of months and knew that something was wrong.

When I confronted her, she just brushed the matter aside, claiming that she'd been tired lately then changed the subject calling me out in all the chores I'd promised to do but failed to complete.

In an attempt to save our marriage, I arranged for us to go on a second honeymoon to rekindle the romance.

Inevitably, it was a disaster from the start, and we ended up arguing all the time.

After one blazing row I ended up going for a walk to clear my head and came back to hear her in the throes of a massive and very noisy orgasm.

Even on our second honeymoon she'd managed to find a way to sneak Roger into our hotel room.

I just sat there outside the door, listening as her pussy was enthusiastically fucked and she was given orgasm after orgasm. The squelching noises of her juices clearly audible through the thin gap under the door as her pussy was enthusiastically ploughed by Roger.

Eventually, I could take no more and went downstairs to the bar to get drunk. Very drunk.

From that point on she dropped all pretence and regularly took Roger to her room whether I was in the house of not.

Eventually she didn't even bother going upstairs and I had to endure the sight of Roger fucking her almost senseless right in front of me in the lounge of our house.

That was the moment I realised that it was Roger or me.

One of us had to go.

Over the next few days, I formulated a plan, but just getting rid of Roger wasn't enough.

There would always be others and, sooner or later, there was bound to be another Roger. Or worse.

No, I had to do this in such a way that she would realise that I was the one she needed.

That, although I hadn't always been able to service her needs, I was the one she'd always been able to depend on and always could.

She had to want ME.

There was a risk that I could lose her altogether, but I'd practically done that anyway, so it was a risk that was worth taking.

Wednesday night proved the perfect opportunity to put my plan into action.

It was her girl's night out and she'd spend the night with her friends drinking and discussing their various partners.

Sex was always a main topic of conversation as they'd either bemoan their respective partner's lack of attention or boast about some new sexual position or technique they'd been trying.

The result was always the same - She'd always come home horny as hell and wanting... No, needing sex.

In that past that was always the night when she wouldn't take no for an answer, and I was expected to perform my marital duties.

More recently that task had been taken over by Roger.

But tonight, things would be different.

I was going to ensure that Roger was going to bring her to the peak of ecstasy only to snatch it away.

Repeatedly.

Roger was going to tease her but then fail to deliver.

Getting Roger to do what I wanted would be easy.

I knew exactly how it could be done; I just needed a couple of minutes alone with Roger to do it.

Having her out of the house was vital in order to be able to do that because it would allow me to prepare Roger for the task without risk of getting caught and raising her suspicions.

I knew Roger would be in our bedroom ready and waiting.

Roger was always ready and waiting.

That was one of the reasons for my wife's infatuation, and the main reason I hated Roger so much.

Slipping in quietly I moved over to Roger and began.

A couple of minutes later I slipped back out of the bedroom, my work done, and went downstairs to await my wife's return.

When I heard her coming in, I lay down on the couch and pretended to have fallen asleep in front of the TV.

Prior to Roger I knew that she would have awoken me, but today I was certain she would just tiptoe quietly past my sleeping form and sneak up to the bedroom. And Roger.

I waited until I heard the bedroom door quietly open and close and then followed her up and positioned myself outside.

I could hear muffled noises inside the bedroom as she clumsily undressed herself, desperate to have Roger deep inside her as quickly as possible.

When I started to hear the familiar erotic moans and grunts that always accompanied my wife being vigorously fucked by Roger, I pushed open the door slightly and peered inside.

My wife was naked on the bed, Roger was thrusting away between her widely spread thighs.

I could see her juices glistening around the stretched entrance to her pussy as Roger pulled almost all the way out before ploughing back in, filling her to the hilt again.

Each thrust was accompanied by a satisfied moan from my wife, who, eyes closed in concentration, was arching her back and playing with her breasts.

I could see that her nipples were rock hard and, as I listened, her moans got louder and increasingly urgent.

Sweat glistened on her body and the juices were running freely down the insides of her thighs now as her body readied itself for the impending orgasm that was heading towards her like an unstoppable freight train.

Her breath was coming in short pants and her unabashed moans reaching a loud crescendo.

Not long now.

She was right on the edge and her whole body tensed.

Then...

She stopped, a look of confusion and frustration on her face.

Pulling Roger out she shook it a couple of times then, hearing its familiar buzzing restart, jammed it back into her pussy and started pounding away again.

Once again, her orgasm started to build.

Her eyes screwed tight shut and her body tensed.

And, once again, Roger stopped.

She pulled it out again and, with trembling hands replaced the batteries from a large stock she keeps in her bedside drawer, flinging the old ones angrily across the room.

She started to slide Roger in and out of her pussy again.

Slowly at first, but rapidly increasing in speed until her hand, and Roger in it, was a blur.

After the disruption it took her a few minutes to get to the point of orgasm again.

When, once again, Roger stopped at the critical moment, yet again denying her the orgasm she so desperately needed, she snapped.

With a howl of frustration, she flung Roger violently at the wall, smashing the vibrator into about a dozen pieces.

Roger was gone forever.

At this point I entered the room to find her curled up in a foetal position, sobbing. Her tears the result of a mixture of lust, frustration and fury.

I lay down carefully beside her and gently took her in my arms, cuddling her and making sympathetic cooing noises.

She felt so soft and defenceless in my arms as she snuggled into me. Her hair had a silky feel to it that I'd only encountered before when she had just awoken from a deep sleep.

As her tears slowly subsided, she turned and kissed me deeply.

Her lips were soft and tender, her tongue probing but gentle.

Completely different to the hard urgent kissing that normally accompanied our lovemaking.

Her body felt soft and yielding under me in complete contrast to my manhood which, I was surprised to find, felt harder and appeared larger than it had for a very long time.

Slowly, our bodies entwined, and I slipped gently inside her, taking my time and enjoying the moment.

She seemed to be enjoying it too because, rather than the usual rush to mount me and achieve her orgasm as quickly as possible, she too appeared content to take things slowly and let the feelings wash over her, as her orgasm steadily built inside her.

That's not to say that she wasn't very turned on.

Her pussy was hotter and wetter than I'd ever known it and it gripped my thrusting cock tightly as we tenderly made love together.

When her orgasm came that was different too.

It built slowly and seemed to go on and on. Her pussy muscles clenching and releasing around my cock, encouraging it to send its seed spurting deep inside her.

With all that going on it was only a matter of seconds before I could hold on no longer and it did just that.

The warmth spreading inside her as my balls clenched and spewed forth their seed, yielded another satisfied moan as she hugged me tightly and her pussy milked my cock to the very last drop.

As I finally started to shrink and slid out of her, she looked deeply into my eyes and said, simply "Wow!".

Our sex life has been very different since that night.

I've taken a different job, one with less stress and no overtime.

After all, with a loving wife like that at home, I want to spend as much time with her as possible.

The remains of Roger along with her other large collection of vibrators, dildos and other toys, have been consigned to the bin.

For an engineer like me, modifying Roger to shut off when her pussy clenched at the point of orgasm had been easy.

Not that I've ever told her, of course. She just thinks that Roger broke and it's probably better to let her keep on believing that.

Not that we probably won't get another 'Roger' one day, to spice up our lovemaking, but I will be the one wielding it when we do.

My wife no longer has any need of plastic lovers now that her real one has realised just what he could have lost.