Skinning the Cat

Gee, for a conversation like that to take place nowadays would be unimaginable, but that was another time. Dillon wasn't even fazed, "Miss Caldwell," he said, "is a valued member of our staff, an outstanding teacher, respected by her peers and adored by the kids. Please don't touch her again or I'll have to report you."

Mr. Baldy fat-guy started to say something more but my guy, 'my hero', cut him off, "Thursday," he said, "don't forget, lesson plan ready, unit plan available."

Dillon turned away so that his back was to baldy-fatty and he was looking at me. He had a milk in his hand. He smiled, "I got you a milk."

Baldy-fat just walked away. I never found out how his observation went. That wasn't any of my business anyway. I only know baldy-fatty never came near me after that. Dillon was so heroic.

Christmas, oh Christmas. Just before that holiday Dillon told me he wasn't going home; he had plans to travel. He didn't tell me where; he only told me I should see my family. I did, and he went away.

I was a little disappointed. No I was a lot disappointed. I wanted to take him home, and I thought I might have gotten a present, 'the present'. None of that happened. When he got back after the Christmas he did have a present for me; if anyone cares to call a thick Scottish sweater a present. Oh it was nice, really nice; just not what I was looking for.

The rest of the winter, January, February, and March sort of drifted by. We were living together, going to an occasional movie, eating out once in a while, but mostly we made love. Dillon met my mom, dad, grandparents, and siblings. Mom and my grandparents fell in love with him.

For a while my Dad was a little standoffish, but he and Dillon went out for beers one night and things were better after that. I never did find out what they talked about, but dad and Dillon started checking out the fishing spots along the Potomac so I guessed they worked it out.

There was one crisis, a really big one that came late in March, not too long before Easter. It was something that nearly ended our relationship. I don't exactly remember how it came up, but one afternoon while we were watching one of the NCAA college games Dillon asked me a really weird question.

Dillon looked at me and asked, "Have you ever wondered what it might be like to have sex with another man?"

I was eating a sub, a cold cut, and didn't pay much attention to it. I replied, "No the thought never entered my mind."

He asked again in another way, "No I mean what if you were to have sex with another man. I'd be OK with it. I'd just go to a movie or something."

I thought he was crazy. I said, "Are you crazy?"

Then he said, "You wouldn't be OK with doing another guy then."

"No," I said, "Are you stupid? I love you!"

He smiled and squeezed me, "Just thought I'd check.

Then he asked another really insane question, "What about a threesome?"

"A threesome," I asked?

"Yeah," he said, "yeah, you, me and another woman."

Now that upset me. I turned around and said, "No way, never. I never want to sleep with another man. I told you I love you! I don't want to share. Call me selfish, but you're who I want, all I want, and it would break my heart if I saw you with another woman."

He sort of acted and sounded a little silly, "You're sure?"

"Yes I'm sure. Totally sure. What you want any of those things?"

He got serious and said, "No I just wondered about you."

I threw a piece of onion at him, "Well now you know!"

That was that. We forgot about the game; it was Maryland too, Gary Williams was the coach, NCAA! Elite Eight! We spent the rest of the evening rolling around on the carpet. I got burns on my knees.

It wasn't till years later I found out that had been another test. It had taken me a while, but I kind of figured out what he'd been doing. He was making sure. So Dillon didn't like sharing any more than I did; he just wanted to make sure about me. Go figure.

It was just before Easter two other really big things kind of occurred. Oh were they big; well one was big, the other was enormous.

We were in bed one night kind of cuddling, kind of getting ready for the main event when Dillon gently pushed his index finger in my poop hole. Now he'd kissed all around it before, even stuck his tongue in once or twice. Yeah he'd tickled all around my back-end cave opening all the time, but he'd never actually put a finger in.

It didn't exactly hurt, but it was a little uncomfortable. Before I knew it he had two fingers in me. With a nice big 'ouch' I pulled away. Nothing more happened, at least not until the next Friday.

Sometime during the latter part of the week Dillon had slipped away and gone someplace. I didn't know where, but Friday night while we were in bed fooling around, the usual foreplay. I loved the foreplay almost as much as the actual lovemaking. I know he did too. He showed me something he'd gotten. It was a little metal thing; a little silver thing that looked sort of like the torpedoes I'd seen in those old World War Two movies he made me watch.

I asked him, "What's that?"

He smiled this funny smile I'd become so familiar with and I knew right away it was probably something I would either love or hate. He said, "It's a butt plug."

I asked, "A butt plug? What's that?"

He said, "Have you ever heard of anal? Like anal sex?"

I'd heard of anal sex. I thought it was something only lesbians, prostitutes, and homosexual men did. I'd read about some of the parks around San Francisco where they said it was so bad regular families didn't dare take their kids for fear of catching some man pushing his thing up in some other man's butt hole. Thinking about it back in those days kind of made me nauseous. Tell the truth it made me sick. Gee thinking now; that was such a long time ago. I've grown up a lot since then; but I still hope none of my kids ever get into any of that.

Well Dillon had this metal torpedo in his hand. He said, "I thought instead of scaring you or maybe hurting you we could, maybe, we could try this."

I was dumbfounded, "You want to put that inside me, inside my behind?"

"Only for a little while," he murmured.

I wanted to yell at him, but I saw the look in his eyes. He was swimming in some deep water. He was afraid of what I would say. It worried me. I wanted to please him. Short of infidelity there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for him, but this was really new. I said, "This kind of scares me Dillon, but...I guess if you want me to..."

He looked a little timorous, not frightened more like nervous. He said, "Look if you don't want it we won't..."

I knew I had to do it then, "No," I said, "go ahead..."

He said, "OK, roll over."

I heard him fumble around. I felt him fiddle around my pooper with his fingers. He had some kind of salve. I asked, "What's that?"

He said, "It's a gelatin; it's supposed to make it easier to put in."

I wasn't enjoying any of this.

I felt him salve me up around my rear-end, then I felt 'the object'. He slowly pushed it in. It didn't feel exactly like I thought it would. It felt warm. I guess he'd warmed it with his hands and breath; I thought that was nice of him, yeah, sure. It didn't hurt exactly; no it did hurt, just not like I thought it would. No actually it didn't hurt so much; it just felt...funny. I thought it might be something like a suppository; they hurt, but they're usually kind of soft. Anyway they dissolve. This wasn't soft, but it really didn't hurt, not much anyway. I didn't like it.

He said, "There' it's in."

It didn't feel like it went in very far, but I'd never had anything really go in backwards before.

I felt him fiddling around some more and I felt what I'm sure was a string. He said, "I've put your anal plug in, and now I'm going to tie it in place with this little cord," he sort of self-consciously chuckled, "we wouldn't want it to slip all the way in would we?"

I wasn't at all happy, "No 'we' wouldn't would we," emphasis on the 'we'.

It didn't take him long and he said he was done. So we lay there together, kissing, and hugging, me getting felt up and doing nothing else. I know he wanted me to touch his thing. I guessed he wanted me to slide down and do him. No way, not tonight; not with that thing in me.

Then we just lay still for a while. He got bored I guess because he said, "You want me to take it out now?"

I said, "Sure."

He rolled back down and slowly pulled it out, and that was the first and the last time he and I ever did anal. He'd forgotten something. This was my poop hole. When he eased it out there was a small amount of guess what, yeah there was shit, that's s-h-i-t, on it. I think that took some of the fun out of it.

He put the little torpedo away, He still has it; he keeps it in his bureau under several old junky boxes. He kept it in his side of the medicine cabinet for a long time, and after we got married, yeah we did get married, he still kept it there, but once the kids were able to walk and explore 'private places' I made him hide it.

I was glad we never did anything else with anal sex. We have some friends, and one of the wives told me about what she and her husband used to do. He didn't let her eat dinner the night before, and he'd give her an enema before they'd do 'it'. She told me it's pretty fun, but she had to get used to it. She said our colons are is so close to our vaginas that we can feel it right through and she said that excites her. She said there's still a lot of poop, and she has to get up and change the sheets right afterward. She said the big downer was that her husband wanted her to lick his thing once after he did it. She said she tried it once, but she said she never did it again. I mean who wants to lick their own shit?

I'm glad Dillon never brought it up again. I know I'd do it, but I know I wouldn't want to. I know I'll never volunteer.

One other really big thing happened just before Easter. This was the biggest thing.

Remember we'd been practicing 'unsafe' sex since before Thanksgiving. I knew sooner or later it was bound to happen. I think I kind of knew back in February. Ever since I was thirteen I'd been 'Miss Regularity.' I never missed a month, and I never missed the week in the month. I missed February. By the end of March I knew; the clock was ticking.

He figured it out when I started throwing up. He asked me one morning, "You sick?"

I looked up from the porcelain bowl and said rather sarcastically, "No darling I'm not sick."

He asked, "Than what's wrong?"

I started to choke up but stopped. I told him, "Dillon you know what's wrong."

He said, "No puss I really don't."

By March he'd started calling me his 'Puss'. He only said it in private, but that had become his 'pet name' for me. He still calls me 'Puss', even in front of everybody now.

After another brief round of gagging I said, "Dillon honey I'm not sick; this is morning sickness."

Oh he'd met my mom and dad, and I'd talked to his over the phone so none of them were strangers. He got down beside me at the porcelain, "We better both call out sick. I'll call your mom and dad and tell them what we think we've got. You get dressed. We need to see the doctor."

I didn't get up, "Dillon are you forgetting something?"

He looked stumped, "What? What's that?"

"We're having a baby; isn't there something we should be doing?"

He said, "Well yeah, we're going to the doctor. We've got to get you started on whatever it is you start on."

I was on my butt on the bathroom floor in his apartment, the place where I'd been staying since before winter. I said, "Isn't there something else?"

He looked at me like I was from Mars, "I don't know. What?"

I held up my left hand.

He said, "Yeah, so?"

I said, "Dillon! Ring!"

He squatted down beside me then. He took my hands in his, "I thought we already had that talk."

I was crushed. He wasn't going to marry me. Now I really was near tears. I wanted this man. I wanted this baby. I wanted my own family! I said, almost crying, "You won't marry me then?"

He was utterly and totally stunned, "Who said that?"

"You did," I said.

He looked, or acted like he looked really confused, "I did. No I never said that. We already had this talk. You get pregnant. We get married."

Now I was flummoxed, "You said that?"

I saw him smiling, he said, "Sure I said that before you moved in."

I know he never said anything like that, but I sure wasn't going to debate the topic sitting there on the bathroom floor. I said, "OK, well how about the ring?"

He got the biggest smile, "Wait here," he disappeared into the bedroom but was back in a heartbeat. He had a box in his hand, a ring box, "This ought to fit," he opened the box and there were three rings inside, an engagement ring with what looked like about a half carat solitaire, and two gold bands. He took the engagement ring out, took my right hand, and slipped it on and said, "I knew it would fit."

OK I was shaking and crying, "How long have you had it?"

He grinned, "When you missed in February."

I made to hit him, but never got to follow through. My arms ended up around his neck while he kissed me. Then he scooped me up and carried me in the kitchen, "I'll call your mom and dad. You go get dressed."

[Saturday morning again]

I heard someone coming down the stairs. It sounded like Dillon. I checked the clock; 9:10. Time to get started, this was Theresa's big day.

Dillon came in, "Got any coffee?"

I said, "Sit down. I'll make a fresh pot."

Epilogue:

Dillon and I got married in June twenty-two years ago. Our oldest daughter is getting married on our anniversary. She's wearing my old wedding dress, and yes she had to take it in a little.

Am I a loving wife? You can bet your sweet ass I am. Have I been loyal and faithful and true? For sure!

Friends of ours had some fidelity issues a couple years back. Maybe I'll tell you about it someday. Well when all that was blowing up Dillon asked me if I'd ever thought about anything like that, and I told him, "Since I first saw him I'd never even looked at another man."

That's when I asked him his feelings on the matter. He reminded me he'd been blown up once, and he'd basically sworn off women until he got me.

I asked him when he'd decided on me. He said, and I quote, "I think it might have been the second professional day in August before the kids showed up. I caught you looking at me, and I thought, yeah, I could do her," then he added, "Of course you'd have to go through a battery of tests before I could be sure."

I asked him, "Did I pass?"

He smiled and said, "You're still on probation."

Am I happy or what?

*****

One last note:

I hope you enjoyed this story. Like I said at the start a very close female friend gave me the outline for this, but I always wanted to write this version of the 'loving wives' anyway.

Please leave a comment. Vote of you like.