Paul and Paula - Her Story 02

Not in my wildest dreams did I think I would ever find myself in this position. Me. Paula... with a boyfriend... in love. Yet, here I was. It was inevitable, I guess. Human nature and basic instincts drive people to mate with someone they find both attractive and appealing as a person. I didn't think of it then. To be honest, I wasn't doing much thinking at the time. But Paul had all the traits of a suitable mate.

We don't think of that when we pick them, but something about some people's looks and behavior patterns makes us think they would make good parents for our children. And other than good healthy genes, kids need stability in their homes. To that point, most guys I had dealings with were either immature, much older, or simply there for sex. Yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, I saw in Paul the makings of a good husband and father of my future children. And having had the fun and carefree sex, finding who I thought to be Mr. Right was inevitable for me.

Once we admitted we were in love with each other, everything else was inevitable as well. Engagement, moving in together and planning our future. Paul took a job at the Gainsville Sun, the local paper, and we went on to start a life on his small beginner salary. The plan was for me to finish college and for Paul to get experience in his craft in the next two years. Plans... fate laughs at those.

***

My parents were shocked when I took Paul to meet them. Dad thought Paul was a nice guy, and the two seemed to click. Mom liked him as well.

"He is handsome and seems to love you. Do you love him Paula?"

"Mom, I can't believe it myself. But I am totally taken by Paul."

"Not what I asked," my mother said, gazing into my eyes. "I asked if you loved him."

I went to respond, but mom stopped me.

"Anyone can say those words, Paula," mom continued with a soft voice so the men in the playroom could not hear us. "I used to say it all the time and never really understood the whole meaning of it."

I stared back, not sure what mom was about to say. She and dad had reconciled after their separation. It had happened right before I met Paul, but I wasn't sure of the how and why of their coming back together.

"You see, I was in love with your dad at first, then I just loved him but was tempted by others. I saw your father as my possession and felt secure that nothing would happen if I cheated on him and returned. Yet when I found out he had cheated on me after my first affair, I got angry, and things went to hell between us."

"Mom I...."

"Just listen," she said with a slight smile. "Your dad and I never had the fun you had before you met Paul. We ended up doing it while married and almost lost each other in the process. But last winter, I came to terms with something I never had before."

She paused for effect with a slight smile.

"I didn't give a shit about who your dad had fucked, was fucking, or who else other than me he would fuck in the future. All that mattered was that I loved him and had to have him in my life. And when he and I talked, he felt the same.

"We had talked with Marisol and Garry about it. You know, about how they live and how they have a somewhat oven marriage?"

"Somewhat?" I asked, wondering what she meant.

"Paula, there have to be rules and agreements between two people with open marriages. If not, you might as well be single. Marisol and Garry have a rule that your father and I have agreed on. No lies, no deception, and never doing someone the other finds objectionable."

"I'm glad, but you were talking about love; what did you mean, and how does it all tie together?"

"Paula, I realized that I can't live without your dad. He and I are too tied together not to. And he said the same, although you can talk to him about it. To me, that is what being in love is in contrast to just loving someone. I still loved your dad after we split. But it wasn't until I realized how I missed him and wanted him to be a part of me that I knew what being in love truly meant. Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"You can love Paul and let him go. You can be living separately with you loving who and what he used to be. But being 'in love,' means you can't let go and can't be happy not having him in your life in one way or another."

"Mom, right now, everything is so strong between us. I did as you advised me before I left for college and had a lot of fun there. In the last two years, I've had more sex than most women have in a lifetime. Probably more than a few women combined."

Mom was still not convinced.

"Paula, when your father and I were your age, we thought we could live alone on a deserted island on love and coconuts," she smirked as we both laughed at that. "But real life is not that. It's bills and deadlines, responsibilities and commitments, kids... you know that kids change things for a couple, don't you?"

"Did we ruin your marriage, mom? Is that it?"

"Don't you ever say that again, Paula," mom responded briskly. "You and your brother have been a blessing and the best thing that ever happened to your father and me. I never have, nor will I ever regret having you two. But... kids are a constant responsibility. And one's children always take priority over other things. You have better not forget that when you and Paul have some."

***

I did talk to my father later on in our stay. His version of their reconciliation was similar to mom's, and I was glad for them. I introduced Paul to Garry and Marisol, but there was no reference to open marriages and such. Paul was too straight-laced for that from the few conversations he and I had about life. And at the time, when we were getting ready to be married, all I wanted Paul to be was a good dependable man for our future family.

"I thought you wanted a more open marriage and lifestyle," Marisol said to me when we had a chance to be alone. "Do you think Paul would ever do that?"

"I'm not sure, Marisol," I replied. "Maybe down the road, I can bring it up then. But things are going so well right now that I can't take the chance to ruin them. Paul is too good a man for me to pass up on."

Marisol gazed at me for a while, then nodded. "I see. Well, you had your fun for a couple of years and now are ready to do the conventional, basic marriage. Is that it?"

"Marisol. I think Paul is a good guy. He told me he loves kids and can't wait for us to have a family. The kids will be Paul's. So even if he and I were to join the lifestyle, we would refrain from doing so while getting me pregnant. I'll broach the subject with Paul after."

"And what if he is not for it?"

That question would come back and haunt me later. But just then, I just didn't think it important. After all, I had gone out in the world and had my 'fun' before marriage. Hadn't I? It was the reason why my parents had strayed and then separated. Paul and I had been with others before we decided to get married. We would be fine. We would be better than others.

We... I.

I would do it better than my parents.

Ah, the ignorance of youth. All the high IQ, photographic memory, speedreading, and college education do nothing to give a young person a looking glass into their future. I was so arrogant. So naïve.

***

Paul and I decided to move in together for the time being. We would get married as soon as I graduated in two years. That would give us time to get to know each other better and give my mother time to prepare a wedding. I made sure she kept it small. I hate large weddings. Plus, I didn't want my dad in debt just as they were putting both myself and my brother through college.

Lost in our love and sexual bliss, we enjoyed each other to no end on a trip to New Orleans. We spent the day making love, then eating at small creole restaurants, visiting jazz and nudie bars in the old quarter. We frequented Pat O'Brien's, a must-go-to bar and bought their commemorative glasses that come with some of their large drinks for souvenirs. We wanted to eat at The Court of Two Sisters , a pricey historical site restaurant, but we could not afford it. We made a pact to return when our fortunes changed and money was no object. In our youthful exuberance, we were confident that would happen. Or wishing it so.

After a night of bar hopping, partying, and dancing, we would go back to the hotel and screw each other to oblivion. It was probably the best time we had together as a couple.

But then the fairy tale had to end, and real-life began for us. When we returned to Gainesville, I found us a place to move into together while Paul started working as a cub reporter. All we could afford was a one-bedroom apartment with a small kitchen and not much space. But it was all we needed at the moment.

We furnished it with items and furniture my parents loaned us or what we already had. So long as we had a bed, a table with two chairs, and some cooking utensils, we thought we were set. The apartment would be our island to live in on pineapples and love.

With it being summer and most students away from campus, I didn't run into many of my "fun" crowd. Thus, awkward introductions were avoided. 'Honey, this is Bryce. He was one of the guys that made me airtight. And there is Kevin. He has a dick bigger than you, but don't worry. He is useless in bed without it. And you know Jerry. He organized my gagbang last fall. Jill over there, she and I got together to do a girl only evening... once a month.' Yeah, I was glad we lived off-campus.

I was not ashamed of what I had done. But the more I got to know Paul, the more I learned how vanilla and conventional he was. I mean, he liked oral and vaginal sex. But to him, anal was dirty and 'not his thing.' I planned to work on him to get past that. Yet so long as we fucked each day, I was cumming and not complaining. Still in love, I was.

And then reality struck. A few weeks after New Orleans, I missed my period. Oh crap, I was going to be a mom! I was scared telling Paul, wondering how he would take it. We talked about waiting until after I graduated to get married then have children.

"Paul, I'm sorry. I think I may have missed taking my pill the day after you and I got drunk...."

But all Paul did was stared back at me with this loving smile.

"I don't care," he had said. "It doesn't matter when to me. Do you think you can handle it and go to college?"

I loved him so much just then. Paul was perfect.

I don't want to brag, but it was easier than we thought it would be academically speaking. Studying was never an issue for me, so I maintained my 4.0 GPA well into the following year. The school paper wanted to do a story on the honors student about to be a mom, but I declined. The last thing I needed was all the people I had been with, tracking down Paul and telling him what I had been before he and I met.

It pissed me off that one of Paul's friends spilled the beans of my being pregnant to the school newspaper. I should have told Paul to keep it to himself. But he was so happy to find out he would be a dad. I couldn't blame him for sharing it. Still, people who knew of my previous lifestyle would talk.

I would not deny my past if Paul found out, but I thought my life before him had been mine. If he asked me, I would not deny it. But Paul never did. So why rock the boat telling him? As I said previously, children need a stable household and parents devoted to one another. Since Paul and I were making a family, what was the point of dredging up the past and creating a problem when there wasn't one?

The rest of my summer was spent working as a restaurant hostess and coping with my morning sickness. After a month, the nautiousness went away, and things got worse. Oh, not my health nor the baby's either. No. Something more insidious. I was constantly horny. Yes, the dreaded 2nd-trimester nymphomania. Some of us women get it, and some get it with a vengeance. Guess which class I was in. Yeah, the latter kind.

Poor Paul. I fucked his brains out in the morning and as soon as I got home from work in the evenings. I woke him up in the middle of the night a few times before he laid down the law. He had to get some sleep if he was to do his job during the day. I gave in and settled for twice a day. That wasn't enough.

Especially when Paul got himself promoted and had assignments that had him work all hours of the day. I would often go to work or come home hornier than hell. I managed to stay chaste until classes started again at the university. Then it got harder to cope.

All my old 'contacts' were there, and I would run into them. They were interested in hooking up again while I was hornier than hell. If possible, Paul would meet me at the parking lot with our van and tend to my needs to hold me off. But there were days that I was tested. I mean tested to my limit.

Paul had to travel out of town to interview a couple for one of his stories around Halloween. That meant two days of no sex, just as I needed it. It didn't help that Jerry and two of his gangbang buddies saw me outside one of my classes. It was the ultimate test as I felt my juices running, and my body was screaming. 'I need you to get me laid. I need some cock.' But I just said hello and rushed off before the boys talked me into going away with them for an afternoon of airtight bliss.

When Paul returned, we had a talk where I explained my predicament. To his credit, my hubby rose to the occasion. I mean, he was young and healthy, and I was the best piece of ass at the University of Florida Gainesville. Who would pass up a minx like me wanting to fuck his brains out?

I sought help from my OBGYN, who said she understood but that what was going on with my sex drive was expected. Not normal, as I was way off the chart in constant arousal. Just expected. To her, I was just a case. But I was the one who woke up horny and stayed that way until the end of the night. Assuming it ended with a good fuck.

Which leads us to another aspect of this strange situation. Paul wanted to make love. Slow and methodical love stuff. I, on the other hand, needed a good fucking. You heard me. A good dicking. A romp. A pounding. I didn't want love or cuddling or any of that when I was horny. And I could tell that Paul was either not available or not up to the task.

Ever hear of 'Madona Syndrome?' or the 'Madonna Whore Complex' by Sigmund Freud? The theory is that men are sexually attracted to the pre-mother female partner but have issues with her sexually once she is pregnant or after she gives birth. In our case, Paul was attracted to me, but he could only make love gently and lovingly. Gone was the guy that fucked my brains out up until he got me knocked up.

After a few weeks of this, I had enough. Paula needed to get fucked, and Paul was not delivering. The tension built, and I became annoyed with him. The arousal fueled the anger, and everything eventually came to a head.

Paul had to leave early that day and did not wake me. By the time I woke, it was too late to rub one out, and by the time I got to my first class, I was randy as hell. After that class, I had another, so the torture continued. Now some of you, both men and women, will do your moral judgment thing to what follows. But as they say, 'walk a mile in my shoes.'

I wasn't sure when Frank had lunch during the fall semester of 1985. So I took a chance and walked to where his office was located. Lucky for me, he was still there.

"Paula!" he said, standing to walk around his desk. "That's a pleasant surprise."

I was showing by then and pointed to my baby bump.

"Wow! You're pregnant!"

"You're a genius Frank," I retorted as I shut and locked the door.

Frank was a bit surprised as I eyed him as if he was a piece of meat at the butcher shop, and I was hungry. Which I was - only cock hungry.

"Frank, I need your help."

"Sure, anything. Is something wrong with your pregnancy? Are you and Paul still together?"

I sighed as I tried to get the nerve to explain. But there was no going back now.

"Frank, shut up and listen," I cut in.

Poor Frank did just that as he stared at me in amazement.

"I'm fucken horny as hell all the time, and all Paul wants to do, when he is there, is to make love like I'm some delicate flower."

"Ah!" he said as if in a lecture. "Madona Syndrome."

"I know what it is!" I almost yelled, surprising him. "It's me Paula. I have your psych book memorized. Page 125, bottom. Madona fuckin Syndrom Frank. I...."

I was losing it, and Frank was standing there glaring at me, waiting for me to spell it out. I almost got mad at him as I had with Paul. Were these men dense? What did a woman have to do to get a good shaging? Go to England?

"Do I have to spell it out, Frank? I need a good fuck, not to be cuddled. And Paul is not delivering."

"I see," he replied and looked at his calendar. "Can you get him to come to my office for a consultation?"

"Frank! You're not getting it, are you?" I cut in. "I need a fuck. Today. Now. Get your dick out."

"Christ, Paula!"

"Religion talk is not helping Frank," I said as I lifted my skirt and pulled my panties down. "I need a good hard fuck. Please!"

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, giving me one last chance to back out.

I spread my legs, letting him see my neatly trimmed and wet vulva.

"Does that answer your question?"

"OK," Frank acquiesced and lowered his zipper.

I must have been quite the sight for him to take in. Even pregnant, I still had my figure, and my spread legs have been known to attract men and raise their cocks. When his thick manhood was brought out, I reached for it.

"I missed this dick," I heard myself say as if in a trance. "Now get it in me and fuck me, Frank. I really need a good pounding. Don't worry about me being preggers. I can handle it."

His reply was to get between my legs as I pulled his pulsing manhood toward my wet entrance.

"I'm wet as hell," I let him know. "Just put it in."

I gasped as Frank's thick member invaded my welcoming wetness. It just felt so good! At first, it was no different than Paul's. Only Frank is longer and wider, so he kept going deeper in me until he found my cervix -- spreading me open. I usually had no issues with Paul's cock. It did its job -- when he used it on me as I liked, that is. But Frank was what I needed, and he came through.

"A little harder," I implored him.

Frank adjusted his intensity, but he was still guarded somewhat. In the past, he had fucked me ferociously when I had asked for it. But this was not then, and we both knew it. Later I would be glad he showed some restraint, but in that instant, I would have let him do more, pound me harder. The need was such I was not thinking straight.

"Do you have to be somewhere?" I asked as he fucked me.

And fucking me, he did as I leaned back on the desk, and he held my legs apart.

"Not anymore," he replied in between strokes.

As I felt my first of many orgasms that hour, I was glad that Frank had not stopped to dissuade me with moral platitudes or conventional judgementalism. Instead, he gave me what I wanted and needed as a friend would. Both of us knew what this was. A purely sexual need fulfilled. Nothing more.

Frank and I had not seen each other sexually since that night before Paul and I became an item the previous school year. I had seen him walking between buildings and informed him of my future wedding plans. Frank had been happy for me, saying that at least one of us was with the person they loved.

The hour went by too quickly. And as was typical for us, Frank didn't cum. By this point, I was no longer offended that he didn't. But he was hard enough for me to cum again and again and gave me what I needed for the time being.

On the way home, I questioned my behavior. I had cheated on Paul. But I had been desperate, and he was unwilling to give me what I wanted. That night, Paul and I had sex again. Or at least, I tried to have sex as he wanted to do his slow and gentle thing.