Second Chance

Then I found a counselor who listened to me separately for a couple of sessions before bringing Al in. By the end of the session with Al the counselor was suggesting that what Al needed was a male sexual companion to keep up with his own needs. As I sat in the office listening to this I was nodding my head in approval. All the way home Al would periodically start making duck noises. But by the end of the evening even I was realizing that I did not want my husband to engage in a homosexual relationship either in addition to our marriage or to replace it.

Al had always been a dedicated husband and a good father in every other respect. Was I really ready to flush all that down the toilet? Maybe that counselor was a little off the wall. I tried to relent a little bit. We would have sex, on average, once a week. Al would buy me attractive clothing. Once or twice a month I would put an article of the clothing he had bought for me on and wear it after I had put Dory to bed. I would usually sabotage the experience a little bit. If he bought me a cat suit that would really look good with a pair of heels, I would wear a pair of flats or even running shoes with it. I knew it took away some of the joy and excitement of the evening for him, but more often than not he would suck it up. I guess getting part of what he wanted was better than getting nothing at all. It gave me the satisfaction that I was still in control.

Then I went through a time when I pushed the envelope even further in my direction. I rebuffed all his initiatives for sex and I gave him nothing of what he wanted. At first he tried to explain his needs to me. I didn't care. I had to teach him a lesson. He became sad and morose. While he did not express his anger at me for refusing to have sex with him, I could tell he was simmering just beneath the surface. He would overreact to things that irritated him. He seemed to have lost his sense of humor. Although he had not lost his temper yet, it seemed as though he was about to blow at any minute. I tried to steer clear of him as much as possible.

Finally my insistence seemed to have paid off. Things began to calm down. Al seemed to be able to relax. The tension was diminished. On the other hand he was spending more time in the shop or on his computer. And then I caught him. He was using porn. I let him have it with both barrels. Porn was just plain immoral and he should not be using it.

He was sitting in front of his computer at the time. When I was done, he had me take a seat in a chair near the computer screen. He brought up an article written by a licensed psychologist and marriage counselor -- a woman to boot. He hunted for a few moments until he found the right paragraph where it said something like, "If two partners in a marriage have widely different needs for sexual activity, neither partner can or should dictate the terms for the marriage. The person with low need for sexual activity should not be compelled to have more sexual activity than they can be comfortable with. The person with a high sexual need must be allowed to find additional outlets to satisfy his/her needs."

The article went on to explain that it is best if both partners agree on the additional outlets that are used, but the partner with the low drive cannot dictate what his/her spouse with the higher needs can or cannot do. The author also strongly suggested that the additional outlet not be another person.

After I had finished reading that and then read it over again for good measure, Al said, "I am trying to use a reasonable amount of pornography and masturbation to carry me through the deprivation I am experiencing. If you think you have a better suggestion, I will listen to it. But unless or until you or I come up with a better solution, porn and jerking off is going to be my go to additional outlet and I'll thank you for leaving me alone while I do it!"

I walked out of the room angry, hurt and chastened. I had pushed him into this. I had no better idea. At least now with this outlet he was much more even tempered. I guess that I should be glad that he chose porn over drinking, gambling, staying out late at night with his friends or womanizing. So that was the compromise/truce under which we have been living for the last eight years. In every other respect that I can think of, he has been a good and loving husband and father. Dory and I love him dearly. He loves us, cares for us, and puts our needs before his own.

About three years ago when Dory turned fifteen Al and I discussed having to talk with Dory about birth control. Al was willing to be there with me and have the talk with me, but, having discussed it at length, we decided that it would most probably seem to Dory like we were ganging up on her. I would have the heart to heart with her.

I used myself as the example. I tried extremely hard to do so without putting any type of guilt trip on Dory. I explained that what we did that February night after a basketball game was our own fault and absolutely no one else was to blame. I explained that the lord was extremely good at making lemonade out of lemons and that our unplanned pregnancy has turned into the greatest blessing in our lives. When I was just about done I suggested that I wanted her to see her pediatrician and our gynecologist to talk with them both about birth control and what was best for her at her present stage of development.

She agreed and wanted me to be with her when she went. Both doctors wanted her to stay away from any hormonal system of birth control. I promised to keep her supplied with condoms -- no questions asked. I would also be aware of shelf life and would replace old ones with new ones. She promised to carry them in her purse and in the wallet with her driver's license. In my talk I did not even mention venereal disease, but she had heard about that in health classes and the doctors both stressed that aspect of the wisdom of using condoms.

Now, faced with my own past and with my daughter's awakening sexuality and hearing the doctors talking about the sex drive as being a healthy and normal thing, I looked back at my own days in high school and thought of some of the sexual feelings I had back then. The way the doctors spoke, those sexual feelings normally carried over into adulthood and really enhanced the marital bond. I began to rethink my own adult life and the part sex played or did not play in it. A few times my introspection led me to want to hold on to Al and snuggle and cuddle with him. But I fought those feelings back. I didn't want to give him any ideas.

Move forward to the beginning of Dory's senior year in high school. Dory was not a cheer leader, but played in the marching band. Therefore Al and I went to the game, not so much to watch football but to see and hear the marching band. It was the first game of the season, and summer was still holding its grip on the weather. It seems as though students in the stands could not stay in one place for very long. There was always movement.

The girls were free of the dress code that they had to follow during school hours. The weather being so hot, many girls were wearing shorts and quite a few bare midriffs were on display. I was looking at the girls and thinking to myself, "Eighteen years ago one of those girls would have been me. They really do look hot, I have to admit it. I remember feeling hot -- guys looking me over and trying to think of some line to use or some excuse they could come up with to get closer to me. I remember that feeling in the pit of my stomach -- waiting for a guy to approach; wanting a guy to approach; wanting to be hot enough that the girl he approached was me."

Suddenly that feeling came back momentarily. The game started. The feeling left as suddenly as it had arrived. It was a good game to watch. It seems as though both teams had a good offense and a poor defense. Both teams were in the forties at half time. Then the band came out to play and we put our full attention on that. Even though we knew where Dory was supposed to be as they marched out on the field, as they started moving around, with all the band members in uniform it was hard to keep track of which one was Dory. We were going to leave right after the half time show -- not being that interested in football and wanting to avoid the heavy traffic at the end of the game.

But there was an awards ceremony immediately following the band's half time show. The band would be returning to the school where many of the band members would take off their uniform and put on their civvies to watch the last half of the game. Dory had come to the game early in my car and would get home the same way.

We stayed to watch the ceremony. We had a passing acquaintance with the person being honored. When that was over we left the stands and started walking out of the stadium area to the parking lot.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a girl who I thought looked especially hot. We were looking at her from the side, although her head was turned away from us. She was wearing a pair of cowboy boots, a pair of denim shorts, a matching denim bolero jacket, a red bandanna as a scarf around her neck and a straw cowboy hat with her long brunette hair coming half way down her back. She was stunning.

Without thinking, I pointed her out to Al, saying, "Look at that girl over there in the cowboy boots. She's got it all together. Makes me wish I was young again." And at that moment she turned in our direction. It was Dory. She waved. We waved back.

"Nice half time show," yelled Al. "We're going home. We'll see you when you get there. Have fun. Be careful."

"See ya," she called back before she and her friends started moving towards the stands to watch the rest of the game.

"Makes you wish you were young again?" asked Al.

"Yeah. Before I realized it was Dory I was thinking to myself, 'She's so pretty,' and I was remembering how I liked to look pretty."

"Pretty?" asked Al.

"Well, maybe a little more than pretty -- maybe kinda hot. You know that's a powerful feeling. It's almost like you've got the world by its pony tail," I said giving Al a flirtatious wink.

"But you don't think you have that any more?" asked Al.

"Nope. That left me years ago," I replied.

"What makes you think so?" asked Al.

We arrived at Al's service van. It was his to drive because he was on call 24/7 in case of an emergency on his side of town. He opened the door on the passenger side and announced, "Your carriage, my lady."

He walked around the van and got in, started the engine and worked his way out of the parking lot. When he got on the street he asked, "Well?"

"Well what?" I replied.

"What makes you think that you don't have what it takes to be pretty and kinda hot and to have the world by its pony tail?" he said.

"Well, I'm a lot older than those girls, I'm married, and I'm a mom and old married moms are not cool, they're not pretty, and they're certainly not hot."

"I beg to differ," said Al. "First of all, when people talk to you about Dory and mention that she is pretty, you know as well as I do that some have often said, 'She looks just like her mother.' Not, 'Looks like her mother did 18 years ago,' but 'Looks just like her mother,' present tense, because it's true. You have kept yourself up very well and you look very good -- very pretty.

"Secondly, as far as a mom being cool, looking hot and having the world by its pony tail might I remind you of the half time show at the 2020 Super Bowl? I rest my case. Right now, if you chose to not care what anybody else might think of you and just decided that you were going to look hot because you can, you would blow those high school girls away -- including Dory!"

"You think so?" I asked.

"Definitely. The biggest difference between your figure and Dory's is that you've had a baby which caused your breasts to swell and your hips to become a little fuller. And in case you haven't noticed, big breasts and full hips are definitely in."

At this point in our conversation we were arriving home. I was thinking over what Al had said. We had a small dish of ice cream and talked over our plans for Saturday. I had to work at the bank in the morning. While Al was technically on call 24/7, that would only be for a major emergency on our side of town. There was another technician who was first in line to field the first emergency service calls to come in that day. Saturday would probably be a day off for Al except that he would have to keep his phone nearby.

We both showered that night before going to bed -- I went first. Just as Al was making sure that the house was locked up, Dory came home. Al again told her that the band looked and sounded good, especially for the first game of the season. He asked about her plans for Saturday and she stated that a girlfriend was going to pick her and another girl up and they were going to work on some kind of National Honor Society service project, but she would be home for supper. They said their good nights and Al came to bed. When he got into bed, I was still awake and flat on my back. Just on the spur of the moment I turned to him and said, "You hold me?"

He did. I think he liked it. I noticed him getting hard. While we had never gone to separate beds, we had not cuddled in bed for years. He continued to hold me. As I felt him getting hard I sensed that he was having his misgivings -- worried that his getting hard might upset me. "You feel good," I said in a very relaxed voice. "I feel loved and safe in your arms." Soon I fell asleep.

Saturday morning I woke up to the smell of breakfast. As has been the case every Saturday morning since I started to work (unless he was called out on an emergency service call), Al was making breakfast for us. I got dressed for work. When I first started working at the S & L, I looked to see what the others wore to work. Usually they wore slacks with a blouse or sweater -- nothing that would call attention to the one wearing it. Rather than calling their clothing attractive, I would call it neat. So that is what I wore. In the summer some of us wore dresses with skirts flared out from the waist and came down to about the knee. They were cooler than pants.

Today I chose to wear a dress. It was going to be another hot day. I don't know why the thought even came to my mind. But it did. And I went with it. I decided to wear the dress without panties. Even as I walked from the bedroom to the kitchen it felt so -- dare I say it? Sexy. I did not tell Al what I was doing. I thanked him for the delicious breakfast and told him I would be home by 12:30, 1:00 at the latest.

Al would do some housework while waiting for Dory to get up. He would then fix her breakfast and when she was done, do up the breakfast dishes. He would then do yard work, and when he was done with that, work on the house. We were living in another fixer-upper. It always gave Al plenty to do. Dory lazed around the house until her girlfriend picked her up.

As for myself, I was feeling so naughty. As I drove to work, I was tempted to work my hand under my skirt and rub my clit. I didn't, of course, but just thinking of it was wild and crazy for me. I walked from the car to the bank and felt a little breeze wafting up under my skirt and tickling my most private parts. As I stood at my station, my stance placed my feet shoulder width apart. I felt exposed.

Seldom did I sit on the stool that was provided, but that day I did not sit on it at all. I was working the drive through window that was fed by a pneumatic tube. I would have to walk from the tube to my work station and back -- just a couple of steps. I hoped that by walking as much as I did that no one would realize that I would side step just a little bit to walk over a grate in the floor from which the air conditioner was producing a light steady stream of cool air which felt absolutely delicious on my pussy.

At one point a car full of teenage boys drove up to one of my drive-ins (we actually worked two drive in slots from one work station). I identified them as being part of the group of boys who were following Dory like puppy dogs. As I was taking care of their banking I started to think, "What would they say to one another if they knew I wasn't wearing panties?" When I returned to him the receipt for his transaction I wrote on it I -- N- W -- P -- D (for I'm Not Wearing Panties, Dude). Shit! This was crazy -- crazy good -- I think.

I had not felt this type of sexual excitement since I was in high school and one of my friends was describing what it was like to feel Jimmy Thompson's hard cock pulsing in her hand. For the way my attention was divided one would think that I would have made some kind of mistake that morning. But when I was ready to leave, everything balanced out the first try and I rushed home.

I practically ran into the kitchen. Al was there putting the final touches on lunch (nothing special - ham, cheese and bread for ham sandwiches and some potato salad purchased at the deli). I ran up to Al, threw my arms around his neck and gave him an intense kiss before I backed off and said those dreaded words, "Al, we have to talk." But then I quickly added, "Over lunch will be fine. And this may be good talk, not bad talk. But I suggest that we add to our meal a small glass of wine to help set the mood."

Al got out the wine. We sat down, fixed our sandwiches, filled our plates and I began: "Al, did you really mean it last night when you said that I was pretty and that I was even hot?"

"I meant it absolutely and without any reservations," he replied.

"And you seemed to be saying that being pretty and being hot is not just for juniors and seniors in high school -- and college coeds. Is that right?" I asked.

"I think half time at the 2020 Super Bowl proves that point," he said.

"And would you agree that I looked hot when I was in high school?" I continued.

"Absolutely!" he replied (there was a lot of enthusiasm in that reply).

"So would you object if I decided I would start dressing more like some of the girls we saw last night at the game?" I asked.

"Dressing for what?" he asked. "I don't think you'd get by with it at the bank. On the other hand, if we are invited to a cookout at a friend's house on a Saturday night, I'd love it. I'd be so proud. I'd probably be pretty possessive -- wouldn't let you alone for very long with a bunch of guys I did not know -- some guys go after hot married women to put another notch on their bedpost -- but I'd love to be with you when you're looking your hottest. And I'd probably be on the lookout for places that I could take you out on dates just to be with you looking so hot and to be seen with you."

He found himself getting more and more enthused and it was showing when suddenly I could tell that he stopped because he became worried that maybe he had shown too much enthusiasm way too fast, maybe ruining everything. I would put an end to those worries with my next questions.

"So you don't think you'd be embarrassed being seen with a thirty-seven year old dressed like teens were dressed last night?" I asked.

"Not at all. I'd be proud and excited," he replied.

"Get ready to put your money where your mouth is," I said. I went up to my room. I had been thinking of this during lulls at the bank. Seeing Dory last night had inspired me. I had an old pair of wide bell bottom jeans that my mom had given to me years ago which had become so out of style that I had hardly worn them. But they were low-rise, made of stretch denim, and fit nicely across my ass. Actually when my Mom bought them she bought them the size I used to wear before giving birth. So they hugged my ass like a second skin.

I put them on and examined myself in the mirror. I studied how I should cut them to make a pair of cut-offs. I then proceeded to cut off the legs. I tried them on. I had cut them at the right place, but I had failed to take into account that without the legs, the back seam would ride up into the crack of my ass a little more. Instead of ending right at the crease of my ass, a little bit of my butt was exposed above the crease. I decided to go with it.