Making It to 25

"I asked first. Appointment book?" No way was she getting off the hook so easy with her blatant lie. "How can it take you until almost lunch time to miss your appointment book?"

Her face showed the struggle to conjure up another lie. "We, we had a long meeting, and I had to wait till it was over before I could get away."

"Good catch, but," I pointed the empty spoon at her for emphasis, "do you notice how much you have to lie once you start cheating? One after the other. If I keep challenging you, I can get you to add lies, one on top of the other." I stopped and put a hand on her forearm. "Tracy, why don't you try telling the truth? I won't be mad at the truth, but if you keep lying, I will become angry, and this conversation will end in an angry divorce. So, think about it, you have nothing to lose at this point.

"Look at me." I paused and waited for a good eye connection. "You can try and gamble that another lie will keep me ignorant, but that gamble will fail and the angry divorce becomes where we go. Now. Truth."

Tears erupted like a dam burst. It took more than ten minutes and two runs back into the store for more napkins before her sobs subsided enough to speak. "You're right. I came home early to have sex with Jack. I'm sorry. I wanted to do it without you knowing, so it wouldn't hurt you. I love you, and only you. I don't love Jack. But, it's exactly like you said, he meets this physical need I have for release."

"Did you fuck him?"

Tears flew across the cab as she shook her head. "Not just no, but hell no. Once you opened my eyes to what it does to you, even if you weren't there, there was no way I could even let him touch me."

"What happened?"

"I told him it was over, we were over, I never wanted to be with him again, ever."

"How did he react?"

She blew her nose again. "He said exactly what you predicted. He insulted you and gloated, saying he'll be back when I call."

"To fill your gas tank."

Her head shipped up. "What? Did he tell you?"

Never one to pass up a gift, I went with that. Without lying, I said, "That's another part of men's general competitiveness—they talk."

"Ugh, tell me about it. I had to put up with so much of that in school."

"Thank you for being honest, Tracy." I lifted her hand and kissed the back. "Whatever we do, I hope going forward we can be honest. I will never hold your libido against you. You have little control over that, but dishonesty is all choice. I solemnly promise to hear you out whenever you have something to talk about. I also will never hold it against you if you feel I'm not ringing your chimes enough."

"Thank you, honey, I know that took big balls to say. Nobody with a frail ego could do that." She reached out and patted my cheek. "Did you say Antonio's tonight?"

—

Whether it was the food or the new feeling of openness, but we had our best sex in months that night when we got home. After my normal eruption, Tracy got on top, turned around in a 69 and took me into her mouth. I'd never eaten a "full" pussy before, but given who it was and the new dispensation we hopefully were entering, I went for it. First, I let my tongue trace her outer lips, to the joint where her thighs meet her crotch, then I migrated around her inner lips to her love button. While she resurrected me, I increased my ministration on her clit until she tightened her thighs and screamed my name at the top of her voice. As she came down, she swung around and said, "Okay, I've done my part. Fuck me cowboy." She moved into a doggy position and we rutted—no other way to describe it. She egged me on, louder and louder, and I responded, harder and faster, until her pussy spasmed and she lifted the roof with her screams. That did it, and I joined her for a twofer—the first in months.

—

About three months of our new honeymoon passed. The monitoring devices stayed in place (trust but verify) but they stayed empty. At the next neighborhood cookout Jack tried again to weasel his way into Tracy's presence, but she laughed at whatever line he laid on her, turned around and joined another group. It was the first time I saw Jack deflated. Important for me, I noticed Tracy didn't even glance in my direction to see if I noticed. What they had was over.

Denying my natural curiosity, I never probed Tracy about how long and how many times she and Jack had done their rabbit thing. It was over, and we were the happy couple we were when we were younger.

One night, though, at dinner. Tracy said in a tentative and careful voice. "Gray, can we talk?"

Taking a deep breath, I nodded. "Are you getting to that place?" We didn't need to say what place.

Nodding slowly, she replied, "I'm not there, but I recognize some of the feelings I had before." She held up a hand. "Let me be clear, I've not mentioned this to anyone, nor have I done anything about it, but I want to take you at your word and talk about it."

With a smile I got up and went to her. Taking her hand, I raised her and gave her a long hug. Both of us had tears in our eyes. "Thank you for your honesty, my darling wife. That couldn't have been easy for you."

Holding me tight, she nodded. "It wasn't. I'm scared. I love you so much and I don't want anything to tarnish our dream of going old together." We kissed, long and softly.

Together, we walked to the love seat, for once appropriately named. "You can see I've been trying, can't you?"

"Yes, and you have no idea how I appreciate it. You are an incredible woman, the most beautiful in the world, and each day I count myself lucky to have someone of your beauty and your quality share my bathroom counter."

"It really is my heart's desire to stay faithful to you and get over this horniness that won't quit. You are a wonderful lover and you do wonderful things for me. However, I don't know what it is, but there's some biological thing that has me in its grasp, and I don't know what to do."

For a minute or two, we sat holding each other and sharing kisses across each other's faces. Showtime. "Time for the third option?"

A faint nod was her only response. "I don't want to, I really don't want to, but I'm open to anything, as long as we're open and honest about it, just like you said. You need to know I'm totally committed to you and to that."

With a kiss on her forehead I hugged her and whispered into her ear, "Thank you."

Sitting back, I said, "I've looked into the third option a bit, just in case this situation arose. There are two escort agencies that have males. Both their websites show pictures. Want to look?"

"Wait, before we go there, let's talk about how this would work. Don't underestimate how scared I am—I came close to destroying us with Jackass. Never again. Talk to me, tell me how you'd see it work."

"Here are my thoughts. You pick a guy from the website that looks appealing to you. I call and book him, and you meet him in a hotel. I'll pay for a nice hotel, not a sleazy fleabag. I'll drop you off and pick you up afterward. How long do you think you'll need to get it all out of your system? Three hours be enough?"

Shrugging, she said, "It's a starting point. No, wait, I don't want to hang around if it's too long. Why don't I just drive and meet him there?"

Pressing my lips, I said softly, "This is not easy for me, but I honestly would like to be the one dropping you off and picking you up. That way I'm still involved, even if it's only slightly." I couldn't tell her I wanted to verify where she went and that she wasn't taking a chance with another neighbor, coworker or gym buddy. "How comfortable would you feel calling me when you're done?"

"Hey, we're both feeling our way in this. If it makes it easier for you, let's do that."

Nodding, I said, "And don't feel bad if you need four or five hours. My goal is to get all the accumulated physical frustration blown out of your system, no matter how long it takes." Deep down I thought her pent-up desire was like a big hunger: you can only eat so much. So I was willing to take my chances with time.

After another deep sigh, she lifted her face and gave me a gentle kiss. "Thank you, my lovely husband. I know this is hard for you, and I hate to be in this place, but let's give it a shot."

—

Talk, like they say, is cheap. The next day I jumped through more hoops than I thought should be necessary, and got access to both services' websites, and emailed the links and credentials to Tracy.

An electronic greeting card popped up. "To the most loving husband on earth, and the best lover, in all senses of the word, THANK YOU! An email followed with the name of the model she chose.

When do you want him? I texted her.

You're the one I really want, but Thursday night if he's available.

After getting a room at the Hilton for Thursday, I booked Robert, probably not his real name, for three hours. The outfit wanted to pretend that their service was just for the fine man to escort the innocent customer somewhere, so I had to pretend to set them up for a dinner at the Hilton.

There was no way I wanted her to have dinner or any other contact with Robert other than plain and simple sex, so I called the service. Again, jumping a few more hoops, I finally connected with someone I presumed had some authority. Deciding to play open cards, I explained our position, what I wanted, and why. They already had my credit card and a non-refundable booking, so they knew I wasn't in law enforcement or anything like that. She said they'd confirm whether "Robert" was open to what I proposed.

He was, and we confirmed that he would go to the Hilton and ask for Miss Hutton.

"What shall I wear?" Tracy asked me.

"Your choice," I said. "However, keep in mind this is not a date, so you don't have to impress him. I am paying him, which makes us the customer, so if anybody needs to impress anybody, it's him you. You don't even have to care if he comes or not—he's paid only to pleasure you and relieve your pent-up pressure. When you're done, you can stop everything—mission accomplished.

"If he's halfway rational, he would hope for a return engagement, so he will be on his best behavior. For all it matters, you can go in jeans and a T-shirt, but since you asked me, I'd suggest a simple blouse and skirt. Easy on, easy off.

"By the way, the agency's rules don't prohibit kissing, but from what I understand kissing is the exception, rather than the rule. If you asked me, I'd recommend you stay away from that, but I'm not going to dictate what you do or don't do. You get to say what he does, how long and how often, and I'm fine with that—I trust you.

"If you asked my preference, which you didn't, I would prefer no kissing. I'm not going to ask afterward you what you did or didn't do, so I'll leave it up to your judgment as to how much you want to consider my feelings."

—

Wednesday night, I was torn whether to take as much of Tracy's sexual pressure off as I could, or to leave it for the paid pro the following day. In the end I opted for self-preservation and went to sleep in the guest room.

At bedtime, Tracy came to me with a frown. "Honey, please come and sleep with me. You're the one I love, today, tomorrow and forever."

"I know," I said, "but please allow my 'frail ego' some space." With air quotes I tried to lighten the atmosphere. "Knowing I'm not enough for you as an intellectual thought is hard enough. Knowing I have to live through it tomorrow night just brings it way, way closer. Forgive me, but I don't want you to see me gulping and struggling."

She came in and planted a long kiss on my forehead. "I appreciate what you're doing, both in the sense of thanks and understanding. I married the best. Sweet dreams."

I turned to the other side to not let her see my tears. Whoever coined the term golden years deserved to be taken out and shot.

—

Thursday, I was a basket case at work the whole day. My head told me what I had signed up for was necessary, but the rest of me declared war with that idiotic, wussy head. Other than the day I confronted her about Jack the jerk, this was the worst day of my life. Was I about to become a willing cuckold? My head stood on a soap box and railed at the sky, "No!" I was using a human dildo to satisfy my wife. It wasn't much different from using a plastic dildo from Noreen's Novelties, was it? Okay, so I wasn't pressing the buttons and putting it in, but it was close enough, wasn't it? Nobody was calling any shots except me. Taking care of my good wife's needs didn't make me a cuckold, did it? The rest of me turned its back on the soapbox charade, showing it wasn't worthy of a response.

Finally, I gave up and left before three. When I got home I took the bottle of Makers Mark we kept for guests (I'm more of a beer drinker) and poured myself several fingers. The first sip went down like a thornbush on fire, but having another pain drown out what I'd wrestled with all day felt surprisingly good. Because I had to drive I didn't refill the glass, and retreated into a game on my phone.

Tracy arrived a little earlier than usual, with Chinese and, after a tender kiss, went upstairs to prepare. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Honesty is what I insisted on, and I couldn't hide the honest hurt that circumstances were foisting upon us. After half an hour, Tracy came downstairs in a simple dark blue blouse and beige skirt, just above knee length. Her bra was visible, and with an impish smile she flipped up her skirt to show me she was wearing normal, conservative panties. I had to hand it to her—she was going out of her way to not rub my nose in it. For that I was thankful.

When she started dishing up the orange peel chicken, my favorite, I held up my hand. "Thanks hon, but I have no appetite."

"Me neither," she said and put the bags in the refrigerator.

On the drive to the hotel, she asked, "Gray, are you sure you want to do this? If you have any reservations, we can turn around right now and I will never hold it against you."

"Every day since we became exclusive," I replied, shaking my head, "I have lived to please you, whether it be a laugh, flowers, a gift, a trip... or an orgasm. I will never withhold anything that's in my power to give you. True love, if you look into it, always involves some form of sacrifice. It's captured in the phrase 'you're worth it.' I can't deny this is humbling for me, but as they say, actions speak louder than words. The bottom line is, you're worth it."

Shaking her head, she stretched out her hand and rested it on my thigh. "You are the best man on the planet."

Right at six I dropped her off and left; it probably wasn't totally easy for her, either, and I didn't want her to feel I was looking over her shoulder while she ventured into uncharted territory. Also, the pen recorder in her purse would capture at least the sound effects.

Going to a bar and losing myself, though my heart's desire, wasn't practical, because I didn't want to get pulled over for DUI after picking her up, so I went to a park with a lake and a two-mile trail around it. Good thing I brought walking shoes. It was a pleasant evening out—not too hot or cold and with the gentlest of breezes. While fastening my second shoe, I heard and felt my cellphone. Tracy.

"Hi babe, is everything OK?" I asked, concerned.

"Yes and no. There are no problems, but I need you to come pick me up right away. Don't ask questions. Get on the road, I'll tell you everything when you get here."

Now worried, I flew back to the hotel, where she stood waiting at the covered driveway. Before I could do anything, she jumped in the car, slammed the door and said, "Drive!"

Instead of the road, I drove to the back corner of the parking lot, parked and turned off the car. Nobody was going anywhere until I heard what the hell happened.

Her door flew open and she rushed around to my side. "Get out," she commanded.

Totally confused, I obeyed. She grabbed my neck, pulled my face down to her and kissed me long and deep enough to awaken the remnants of my tonsils, which had been removed when I was ten.

"Grayson Bartholomew Hull, you are the most amazing man on earth and I love you like no other woman can love a man."

"We think alike, good to know," I tried with some lame engineer humor.

All that did was bring on another delicious kiss.

"Thank you for the confirmation," I said, a little breathless, "but what gives? Why aren't you getting pounded by your good buddy Robert?"

"Because I love you, and only you."

"Uhh, we established that before we parted, so what happened?"

"After I checked in I went to my room. His call came in shortly after that, and I went to meet him in the lobby. He was even more handsome than his website picture, a young, lean, fucking machine. We shook hands and I took him to the room. When we got inside, he closed the door and we stood there, looking at each other. 'Is this your first time?' he asked. I must have looked lost or nervous or something like that.

"When I said it was, he sat on the bed and patted for me to sit next to him. At that precise moment a weird, emotional bubble popped inside of me. I can't explain it, but that pent-up desire for sex vanished, vaporized. In one single instant.

"I won't lie to you, the last day or two the combination of my building horniness and the excitement of something new sexually built up a new kind of excitement I'd never felt before. When you chose to not sleep with me last night, I had to use both my vibrators for over an hour. Remember, you said we had to be honest," she added before I could become upset. "I didn't want to tell you, because I thought by tonight it will all be gone--reset, if you will, so there was no need to add to your anguish.

"I'll be honest with you: your torment really, really haunted me. I love you and no woman wants to torment the man she loves. So I was truly torn. Torn as I was, though, when you drove away, all the anticipation and excitement rushed into the foreground. I couldn't wait for my new fuckbuddy to come and take care of me.

"So, there we sat in the room, and suddenly, kapoof, all that anticipation, excitement and thrill disappeared the moment he spoke to me. Poof. No desire. I looked at Robert like he was a new teacher added to our roster, nothing more.

"I looked him in the eye, and said, 'No, Robert. And I will never have a first time. We're leaving.'"

"Why, Tracy? What changed?" I had to know.

"I changed, Gray, I changed. When you said that thing about 'worth it,' it's like you buried a grenade inside of me. It's true—you demonstrated to me how much you care for me, how I'm worth it for you to spend so much money, and sacrifice your ego for my needs. But that thought remained buried by my excitement at a possible new sexual adventure when I was bursting with pent-up desire.

"But the moment Robert opened his mouth, the grenade exploded, and it hit me: I was only receiving. Never did I ask the question: what were YOU worth? I never valued you for your true worth. All this time, I behaved like a spoiled princess, all uptight that my pussy needed more orgasms. Like life revolved around that, and was more important, worth more than you. I can't explain it, but in that instant, all I wanted was you. My man, my best fried, my true love. I closed my eyes and thought of you, how you looked and sounded on the way here. Was a night with Robert going to be worth hurting you?

"Not just no, but hell no! If I have to find a drug to suppress my libido or go to therapy or do whatever, I will. But I will never again put my sex drive above you. Literature says the high libido is temporary, anyway, and in a few years will go away. Until then, I will figure out a way to deal with it, no matter what it takes."

"Why? Why limit yourself?"

She took my hands and kissed my lips. "Because you, my wonderful man, are worth it."