Pussy Whipped

There are words that I don't like. There are phrases that don't sit right with me either and never have. I don't like the word cunt. I like the word pussy. I'd like to take a vacation and spend a week eating pussy. I've never wanted to spend one minute eating cunt. The two words "pussy whipped" bother me. First it's the connotation. "Pussy Whipped" means that a man has allowed a woman to get total control over his actions. He's been emasculated, not with a knife, with words and manipulation. There are other words and phrases that I don't like, but those give you the idea.

We met years ago, dated, decided we were "in love" and got married. We'd both been married before. Her first marriage lasted over twenty years and even though she says she hated being married to him they probably would still be married if he hadn't molested their oldest daughter. After their divorce and the family's emotional upset had calmed (after thousands of dollars worth of therapy) she started looking for the next "Mr. Right."

I had been married over twenty years, too. It ended when she finally told the truth that she had never loved me. She married me because she didn't think anyone else was ever going to ask her. That hurt! Twenty years with a woman who didn't love me. The sex was really good with her when it happened, but it didn't happen often and it seemed to be missing something. I never figured out what was missing until she told me that what was missing was love.

We met. On our first date we met for dinner. It went well. She talked about her kids and I talked about mine. She talked about her career and I talked about mine. We avoided mention of exes other than to both admit we had them.

The first time I was invited to a sleepover (her word) I worried. I liked her. What if the sex wasn't very good? What if I couldn't do it? It had, by then, been years since I'd bedded anyone. One of my fears was that the cannon would go off before the parade even got started. It didn't. The sex was incredible and I discovered what had been missing from my first marriage, love. She loved me!

After we had been married for a year I had a major medical incident. The kind that suddenly has one riding in an ambulance flat on their back and scared shitless it's their last ride. The incident happened at work. Someone called Beth, my wife, and told her what happened and which hospital I was taken to. When I woke up she was beside my bed and looked terrible. My immediate assumption was that if she looked that bad, I was a goner. I was wrong. The ten-ton truck parked on my chest was evidence that they had cracked open my chest and done a chapter eleven reorganization. The good news was that I'd live. The bad news was that I had lost some things in the process.

One of those things was the loss of the ability to have an erection strong enough to slide home into the woman I loved. Hell, I couldn't get stiff enough to enter a contest much less a woman. I gained some things as well. Scars. When Beth saw my scars the first time she turned ashen. I've worn a t-shirt ever since. I didn't like that look on her. I still don't like the scarred look in the mirror either.

Working with the doctors at our HMO I've tried the little blue pill, one that wasn't blue, injections and a suction pump. A waste of time money and effort. Each attempt was witnessed by Beth. She was emotionally supportive and said the things she believed I wanted her to say. When nothing worked and my penis stayed limp she said, "It'll be Ok. We can still do other fun things, if you still want to."

That year I ate pussy about once a week. I still wanted to fuck her, but eating pussy was great. I loved the feelings I got from feeling her body respond and get all the way to orgasm. In a few serious conversations with her I said I understood if she needed or wanted a discreet friend with privileges to fill her pussy with more than my fingers and tongue could supply. All I asked was that she be discreet and not stop allowing me to be the most lover I could.

She laughed off the first conversation as if I couldn't possibly be serious. During that year other changes happened. She got two promotions at work. I got downsized into being a consultant. She was making almost twice as much money as I was. Before they cracked me open I was making about twenty percent more than Beth. I was working from home.

A year later she had changed her behavior towards me. My advances had been welcomed and the orgasms appreciated at a frequency of at least once and sometimes twice a week for two years. I was physically affectionate without the push towards orgasms while allowing for our intimacy to include orgasms any time she wanted. My first wife had complained that every time we kissed she felt like I was trying to fuck her. I would have liked that, but didn't expect it would happen as often as after every kiss! With Beth I made dinner a couple times a week, started taking care of some of the jobs around the house and worked at being the husband she wanted.

When her behavior changed it wasn't gradual. The first change happened the second week of May. I made dinner for us and when Beth came home from work she smelled the lasagna in the oven and said, "I wish you had asked. I already ate. One of the other ladies at work brought in food and I pigged out." I ate some of it and put the rest in the freezer for whenever. Later that night I sat beside her to watch a TV show we watched together often. In the first segment of the show I put a hand on her thigh.

In the first commercial break she got up said she was tired and went to bed. In the second commercial break I went to the bedroom and asked if she was Ok.

"I'm tired and I want to sleep." I got the message and left her alone. When I went to bed at a little after ten she rolled so her back was towards me and never acknowledged I had awakened her.

From that night on we didn't snuggle on the couch to watch TV. We didn't touch while we ate together, as we passed in the hallway, and when I put my hand on her thigh as we went somewhere in the car she said, "Please don't do that. It makes me nervous. Just pay attention to the road."

The third week of May she got up from the dinner table and headed for the bedroom. It wasn't even eight o'clock. I followed her.

"Hey. What's going on?"

"I'm tired? Aren't I allowed to be tired?"

I pointed out what I had noticed and said, "Tired is one thing, this is more."

"So, you want to talk about this whatever-it-is now, when I want to go to sleep? Aren't you nice."

"I do want to talk about this whatever-it-is. Tell me when."

"Saturday, at noon."

I turned to leave the bedroom and said, "I'll put it on the calendar in the kitchen. Thank you."

I watched a movie on TV that night and rather than disturb her sleep I slept on the couch. When she got up in the morning she woke me and asked if I was punishing her. I sat up and asked how I could be punishing her.

"You didn't come to bed last night! I woke up twice in the night and you weren't there."

"You were so tired you needed to go to bed before eight. I decided that rather than disturb your sleep when I came to bed, I'd just let you sleep. I was trying to be a good guy."

"If I wanted to sleep alone I'd be single. Please don't sleep out here again, Ok?"

"Ok." She had breakfast and went off to work. I went to my office and worked until about two in the afternoon. I called her at work and when she answered I asked, "Shall I make something for dinner?"

"No, don't. I won't be hungry." Twenty seconds later she said she had to go and she hung up.

I started wondering if she had started seeing someone for sex and was feeling guilty. It would explain the changes. She was being discreet but her behavior was still a tip off that something was happening.

Saturday came and I started the day working on a project in our back yard. By eleven I was done and came back into the house. I had gotten muddy while I worked so standing on the back porch I stripped off my clothes and headed for the shower. I didn't see Beth in the kitchen, hallway, her office or the bathroom. I got in the shower and got clean, shampooed and shaved. When I was in fresh clothes it was almost noon. I knew our conversation was scheduled for noon.

On the wall of our kitchen we have a white board calendar. I looked and the note about our conversation was gone. In it's place a note said, "Shopping with Alison."

Alison is Beth's sister. I called Alison and Rob's house and Rob answered. I asked if Beth was there.

"Nah, she called about two hours ago and they left an hour ago with my best American Express card. They said they'd bring dinner back with them."

"Oh. Ok. Say Rob, do me a favor, Ok? Don't say I called.

"Ok. Is anything wrong?"

"I have no idea."

Beth was no longer eating my cooking. She no longer wanted my touches, hadn't made herself available for bedroom fun, and had avoided our serious conversation on purpose. Yet, she wanted to make sure I was in bed with her every night.

I waited until almost six to call her cell. It went directly to voice mail. I said, "I was just wondering what time you'll be home. Call me on my cell, Ok?" I hit stop.

It was almost eight when she parked in the garage and came inside carrying two bags from the big mall in town. I was watching TV, still dressed in fresh chinos and a nice shirt. She stopped and looked me over.

"You're dressed like you expected us to go out."

"Nope. I saw that you left a note about going shopping, so I went for a drive. I think it's a law you have to wear clothes when you go for a drive."

"Did you get dinner for yourself? We ate at Tony Roma's."

"I hope you took Rob some of their ribs. I know he really loves their ribs."

"We did."

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah, some. Why?"

"I haven't been able to touch you in almost two weeks. I was hoping we could enjoy an evening together."

"I'm sorry, Baby. It's not like you can do anything. I'm fine. I don't feel the need for an orgasm."

"Can I ask another question?"

"You just did." She turned and walked out of the room. I watched... no, I sat in the room with the TV for another twenty minutes. She didn't come back. I carefully got up off the couch and went out the back door. I was in my car when I hit the button for the garage door and quickly started the engine. I was completely out and in the street before she came out the back door. I saw her in my rear view mirror. Her robe was on and buttoned.

I stayed the night in a No-Tell Motel about five miles away from home. I paid cash.

In the morning I showered using hotel soap and dressed in the same clothes I had on the night before. At eight-twenty I pulled into the garage and parked. On my way out the side door of the garage I hit the button and closed the door. Beth's car was in the garage and the hood was cool.

Beth was sitting at the kitchen table when I walked in. She was fully dressed in slacks, sweater and loafers. I said, "Good Morning" and kept walking. I went into the bathroom and closed the door. I started the water in the sink.

Seconds later Beth opened the door and looked at me like I was guilty of something.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"It's called shaving. I've been known to do it almost every morning since I was fifteen. Wanna watch?"

"Where did you go last night?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I expected you to sleep with me last night. When I came out of the shower you were gone!"

"The shower wasn't running when I left. I waited twenty minutes after your smart-ass answer to me, then I walked out. Where were you?"

"In the bedroom putting away the things I bought yesterday."

"Where were you at noon?"

"Alison called at about eleven and asked me to go shopping. I left you a note."

"After you erased the one saying we had scheduled a serious conversation for noon, yesterday."

"I didn't erase any note."

"Right! I made up asking for a meeting and you telling me Saturday at noon."

"I don't remember anything of the sort!"

"Ok. Can we have a serious conversation right now?"

"About what?"

"Do you have the time right now? Are you too tired at nine in the morning? Do you have an appointment somewhere?"

She sat on our bed and said, "You want to talk? Go ahead."

"Ok. Over a year ago I told you that if you were interested in having someone be the lover who could fill your pussy with something besides my tongue and fingers, all I asked was that you be discreet. Now your behavior has changed towards me and you won't talk. That's not discreet! You might as well wear a sign, "I'm screwing someone else!" Ok. I got the message. You don't care that I know. I've been as good a husband as I know how to be. You want a divorce?"

"No! I love you. I'm not seeing anyone. I just don't want sex anymore. The thought of you licking me turns me off. Don't take it personal."

"So, does that mean that until you hit puberty again we won't ever have sex again?"

"I won't have puberty again."

"I'll take that as a yes." She nodded.

"So, if I physically overpowered you, tossed you on the bed and ate your pussy you couldn't enjoy it? It would make you throw up?"

"I just don't want to! If you did that it might feel good, I just don't want to!"

"Ok. God, I'm glad we had this conversation. I don't want a divorce. However, things are about to change. I've been the house-husband for almost two years. I do the marketing, most of the cooking, the laundry and stuff. I now get three nights a week off. If I pick they'll be Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, but if you want to negotiate that can be worked out."

"Those nights you don't cook?"

"No. Those nights don't count on me sleeping here. The rest of the time our relationship will be just as it has been for weeks. I won't touch you, kiss you or attempt to eat your pussy or pat your ass. I'll still make dinner twice a week unless you ask for more. I'll do the laundry, the marketing and most of the housework."

"Where will you go?"

"Do you really want to know?"

Tears ran down her cheeks. Her eyes locked on mine and she slowly nodded.

"I'll find someone who loves being eaten for hours and gushing her juices all over my face. I'll find someone who likes my fingers inside her and loves orgasms. I'll suck on her tits and eat her until we both fall asleep exhausted. The rest of the week I'm yours, just the way you like it."

"I don't like that. I don't want that."

"You want just what you've had for weeks. You want me to do without something I love doing. What do you give up?"

"I gave up being fucked by you over two years ago!"

"And, to quote you "It'll be Ok. We can still do other fun things, if you still want to." I want to. You slammed the door on that. It isn't Ok. It bothers me every day that my dick doesn't get hard. I felt something like a man when I could still please you in bed. Now, even that's gone! I can't get that here, from the woman I love and who says she loves me. Maybe I won't be able to find a woman who loves orgasms as much as you used to. Maybe I won't find anyone at all who will let me love them the way my body will allow. Maybe I am no longer a man. Those are a lot of maybe's, I'm going to find out which ones are true!"

"Are you saying you weren't with someone last night?"

"I'm not saying anything about last night! If we'd had this conversation yesterday I'd answer for my behavior last night. Did you lie to me about yesterday?"

"No! I went shopping with Alison."

"You told me she called you, remember?"

"Yes!"

"And she invited you shopping?"

"Yes!"

"How did she do that? I had the portable phone clipped to my belt all morning and it never rang."

"She, she called on my cell."

I left the bathroom and went into my office and turned on my computer. She followed. I pulled up her cell phone records. The only two calls on her cell were the call she made to her sister and the call I made leaving her a message. I looked up at her and didn't say anything.

She opened her mouth and I held up a hand. "You lied. I have more evidence against you. Please don't insult me by lying on top of the lies you already told. You didn't want to talk. You called Alison and probably convinced her to lie for you if I talked to her." I tapped the screen showing the time and number she called. "You bought dinner at Tony Roma's and the three of you ate together. You didn't bring me anything, not even an apology."

She slumped into a chair. "I'm sorry."

"I'd ask what you're sorry for but at this moment, I don't care what you're sorry about. Did you listen to the message I left you?"

"No. I saw it was from you and deleted it."

"Too bad. However, it says something about the respect you now have for me. I guess making lots of money and being promoted have changed your attitude about me."

The look on her face let me know she had deleted the message without hearing it. Too bad.

"You have a choice to make. You can accept my terms for our marriage or you can get out. This house was mine long before I met you and it will be mine ten years from now if I'm still alive. If you choose to get out I want it to be by Wednesday. Your things can stay until the weekend, but you need to be gone by Wednesday at eight."

"I don't want to go! I have no where to go! I don't want a divorce!"

"Move in with your sister! Maybe Rob is already your lover and that'll make it convenient for all three of you."

"Rob is not my lover!"

"Please understand, I'm not demanding a divorce. I don't want a divorce. I'm not even asking you to move out, but you can choose to do it. It's up to you."

Her hands covered her face and she cried. When I tired of listening I got up and went to my bedroom. I grabbed an armload of hangers from our closet and carried an arm load of her things into our guest bedroom. I hung them neatly in her new closet, then I went back for more. As I carried that arm load between bedrooms she came out of my office.

"What are you doing?"

"You no longer sleep with me. I might roll over and touch you. You've said you don't like my touch. If you decide to stay we can talk about the sleeping arrangements then. Between now and Wednesday, you're in the guest room. I'm moving your clothes to make your life easier for you."

"I like sleeping next to you. I'm used to hearing your breathing."

"I will never sleep next to a pussy I can't eat or tits I can't touch or kiss. Not one more night!" I took her clothes in and hung them up, neatly. When I came out of the guest room she was still in the hallway and still crying. As I passed her I said, "You can move the rest."

I plopped on the couch and turned on the TV. I heard the walking between bedrooms for a while then I heard the guest room door close. I shut off the TV and went to bed in my bedroom. It took a while to fall asleep listening to her cry, but I did.

I made breakfast for two and ate my half. She didn't come out of the guest room. I took a 3X5 card and made a sign and put it by her breakfast. "Leave the dishes. I'll do them when I get back."

After I dressed I took my car and went to church. I had attended that church for eight years near the end of my first marriage. Some of the people there that morning recognized me and welcomed me back. After the service one of the senior members asked if I'd meet with he and two other staff members. I was in no hurry so I agreed.

The two others were both women. The chit-chat began about catching up. When that was done one of the women asked, "So, we'd like you to help us if you still feel good about being a member of the church. We remember what a great job you did before..."

"I'll need to think about it. I'll need some more details about what you actually have in mind."

They had me leave my address and promised a packet of interest would be at my home by Wednesday. As I gave my address I said, "Address the envelope to me, not to Mr. & Mrs."