The Choices We Make

A/N - Hello everyone. Back again with another story that will no doubt receive mixed reviews. Anyone who writes a story in this category does so knowing what sort of feedback you're bound to get.

The idea of an open marriage or open relationship intrigues me, because I'm not sure about most people, but the idea of some other bloke fucking my wife or girlfriend? No thanks, I don't share. I've only ever had one girlfriend ask about an open relationship. Let's just say she's now an ex-girlfriend for that one very good reason.

Granted, most of the stories we read online (some here, some elsewhere) about open relationships usually come from problems with how they first started, or they were started after years of monogamy, and well, I don't think you can change a relationship so drastically and expect it to work in the real world without both sides in agreement and rules that are agreed and then both sides stick to them.

Anyway, I've written a couple of stories about open marriages and how they eventually fail. The first story I wrote isn't one I've uploaded yet, as it's entirely unrealistic (then again, this probably isn't either), and neither husband nor his wife is particularly redeemable. (Called 'You Got Nothing I Want'. I might upload it eventually.)

Usual caveats. All editing and reviewing done by the author with Microsoft Word. Spelling is usually spot on. Australian / British English. Definitely the occasional typo. Grammar can be ropey at times, but it's been a long time since I sat in a classroom. All mistakes owned up to by the author. Please remember this is only fantasy and I'm an amateur.

Comments and feedback appreciated as always.

*****

Louise - The Beginning

"I'm telling you, Louise," my best friend, Janet, said, "He's a man, no doubt a typical man. He's going to hear your suggestion and immediately think of all the pussy he's going to get."

"I don't really like the idea of him sleeping with others, Janet."

"I didn't say he would be sleeping with anyone, Louise. He's a forty-year-old man with his best years behind him. You really think he's going to be out nailing twenty-year-old university girls every weekend? He'll be at home with the kids while you can escape and live your best life."

"You really think it won't blow up in my face?"

I looked around the table at my friends and colleagues. "Louise, James is desperate to get you into bed," Annie replied, "Asking for this simply means you can fuck him without feeling any guilt or that you're cheating on your husband."

"Trust me, it'll be worth it," Marie added, "Hubby will be clueless about what you're doing most of the time, distracted as he will be by work, kids and other commitments. Just throw him the occasional night of sex to keep him happy and he'll go through life none the wiser."

I'll admit, the more we'd discussed the topic, the better it sounded. I'd been happily married to my husband, Mark, for eighteen years. We'd had two kids, bought a house, though it was now our home, two cars in the driveway, an annual holiday overseas. We both worked hard, lived comfortably, and we were happy for the most part.

But just recently, as I approached forty, something seemed to be missing. I craved some excitement. Don't get me wrong, my husband still loved me with every fibre of his being. Still a romantic at heart. We will go out on a 'date' at least once a fortnight. We didn't have sex as often as we did in our twenties. He still knew how to push my buttons, and my husband was still a handsome man. Driven to succeed. Successful at nearly everything. I knew he was a catch.

But I still felt that sense of boredom, that there was something more to life. And that's when Janet started to get in my ear about possibilities. Once the girls at my workplace also heard of my predicament, they were also talking about all the opportunities available. It was the 'modern world', they told me, and traditional relationships were going the way of the dodo. Couples now happily experimented and shared.

I wasn't sure my husband would go for it, but it didn't stop my friends from continuing to convince me. And it was this night that I was finally convinced to talk to my husband. I had all the arguments I needed to convince him. And, if needed, I'd just suck his cock, something I rarely did nowadays, fuck his brains out, and I knew he'd be happy to do whatever I wanted.

Smiling at my friends, they all smiled back as they knew what I was going to do. "I'll talk to him tomorrow night after dinner," I told them.

"It'll be fine," Janet assured me, "He's going to thank his lucky stars. Hell, if you need me to throw him a bone while you're out fucking some hot young studs, I'm sure one of us will take one for the team."

I didn't like the idea of any of my friends sleeping with my husband, but if it allowed me the freedom to go out and find a few lovers of my own, it was something I'd eventually find acceptable. The last thing I'd want is for my husband to build resentment while I was out with one of my boyfriends.

Boyfriends? I loved the sound of that. Particularly the plural. Before I met my husband, I'd only had three boyfriends, none of the relationships lasting more than a few months. I didn't have one-night stands. As soon as I met Mark, I never looked at another man, and I'd rarely had my head turned since.

At least until the past couple of years, when young men started at our firm, they wouldn't hesitate in flirting with me, and I realised I was still a desirable woman, and that men who were barely out of university were eager to fuck me. It does wonders for your self-confidence to know you've still got it.

Arriving home later that night, my husband would have been none the wiser about the conversation I'd had. I'll admit, the idea of being fucked by some young stud had turned me on, so I'm sure my husband was wondering what had come over me when I had him fuck me into the mattress that night. For the first time, I wasn't thinking or picturing my husband inside me. Instead, I pictured one of the handsome young men at work, thinking they're likely rather well endowed, and would take pleasure in making me cum over and over again.

It was only when he held me in his arms like usual, knowing he had no idea what loomed on the horizon, that I lay in silence, worrying about the possible outcome, and I released a few nervous tears, hoping I wouldn't start getting upset the next evening when I confronted him.

The following day was a Sunday. The kids played sports on a Saturday - netball for our daughter, rugby league for our son - so we always tried to do something fun for them as a family on a Sunday. It wasn't forced, and as they were both teenagers, they did prefer to spend time with their friends rather than their parents. My husband was a little more understanding that they craved freedom. I still loved time spent as a family. We did eventually head out for lunch, but it was a little disappointing as both kids spent more time on their phones than talking to us.

"Don't worry, honey, the only thing distracting around here for me is you," my husband stated.

The guilt hit me hard as I knew what I would be asking of him within a few hours. Dinner was the usual event, my husband and I making small talk, tempting the kids into conversation, Mark having the rule that there would be no phones during dinnertime. The kids had complained at first, but I could see they loved the fact their father showed an interest in their lives, always full of questions or advice for them. As I cooked, he would always clean up, one of the two kids helping him each night.

"Kids, you're free to go. I need to talk to your father about something and it isn't for young ears," I told them.

"Are you having another baby?" our daughter asked, rather excitedly.

"No, nothing like that." I glanced at my husband to see curiosity written all over his face. "It's just something important."

He obviously had no idea what was coming but he still pulled a bottle of wine out of the fridge, poured us both a glass, before he sat opposite. Though he gazed at me, he remained quiet. Though my husband could be an extrovert, life and soul of a party, there was another side to his character that was quiet, thoughtful and contemplative. He lived life by numerous slogans, one being 'Remain silent and be thought a fool. Speak and remove all doubt.'

I sipped at the glass for a couple of minutes, getting my thoughts in order, before I cleared my throat. "Honey... Are you happy?"

"Happy about what, sweetheart?"

"Happy with everything? I mean with our lives?"

"Of course. What do I have to complain about? I have a loving wife, two wonderful kids, a fantastic house and home. We're living comfortably. Our careers are going great guns. We have great friends and supportive families. I think we're doing better than a lot of people out there."

"I'm glad you think life is so wonderful, honey. And I mean that. But I'm not on the same wavelength as you. Something is missing. And to be blunt and completely honest, I'm bored."

Mark remained silent for at least a minute. He was thoughtful again. "You're bored..." Nodding at his statement, he asked, "With our marriage?"

"I love you, honey. Please don't doubt that, but I need something more than what we have right now. I need some excitement."

"Am I not doing enough as your husband? I mean, I know we've been married for..."

"It's nothing you're doing or not doing, Mark. This is about me and my wants and needs." Sipping at the glass of wine again, I steeled myself. "I've been chatting with friends and doing research. Traditional relationships are..."

"Don't spin me so called new age bullshit that your friends have been spouting, Louise," Mark stated harshly, "I won't be taken for a fool or a schmuck. Just spit out what you want from me."

I knew he knew what I was going to ask of him. I finished the rest of my wine glass. "I want to open our marriage, Mark. I want an open marriage and relationship."

For the first time I could remember, he glared at me with anger. In fact, it wasn't just anger. The eyes that had shown nothing for me but love, almost from the moment we met, changed in an instant. His fingers tightened around his wine glass so tightly, I thought he was going to crush it. "Can you repeat that, please?" he asked in a low tone, "Just for clarification, Louise."

"I want to open our marriage so we can date other people. Just think about it, honey. Instead of sleeping with the same woman you've been with for the past near two decades, you could head out and find some young woman, or even women, to have some fun with."

He remained silent but his glare was almost unnerving. His eyes barely blinked as he stewed silently. I rarely saw my husband angry. I knew he had a temper when pushed. I'd heard him on the phone when hauling an employee of his over hot coals. And he'd had more than one fracas when playing rugby league as a younger man.

"Absolutely fucking not," he finally growled, "I don't know what you've been reading, or who you've been talking to... Though I can take a good fucking guess who had been filling your head with this bullshit, but we are not opening up our marriage. We made vows to each other, Louise. There is one particular line I take very seriously. Remember what that is?"

I went over the vows in my head, and I knew which line he was referring. "Forsaking all others," I whispered.

"Bingo. And I take those vows seriously. I have done since the day we stood together in front of the celebrant, in front of our friends and family, and though I might occasionally look at a pretty woman, I certainly wouldn't contemplate doing anything with her. Now I'm sitting here, wondering just how seriously you've taken those same vows..."

My friends had prepared me for all the arguments he could throw at me. "Honey..." He almost growled at my usual pet name. "Mark... I still take those vows seriously, but amendments can be made over time. We can still love, honour and cherish each other. We can still be husband and wife. I still love and I'm still in love with you. But I need this. I crave something different. Something you can't give me."

I knew those last few wounds would hurt him. All men had an ego, and hearing from his wife that he wasn't making me completely happy and keeping me satisfied would hurt. I watched him almost grind his teeth, his jaw set, his eyes light up with fury. He reined it in somehow. I knew I was going to make him angry, but I also knew that, in the end, he would do what I wanted.

He stood up, turned and walked towards the back door. "Where are you going?"

"Out to think," he replied, "My wife just told me she's not happy and wants to fuck other people. Don't particularly want to be around her right now. I don't particularly want to spend my time in the presence of sluts." His voice trailed off as he disappeared, and it hurt to hear he thought I was that word.

I didn't see him the rest of the night and, as far as I knew, never came to bed. When I woke up the next morning, it was obvious his side of the bed hadn't been slept in. Getting up, I quickly showered in our ensuite bathroom before changing for work. I found our two kids in the kitchen eating breakfast, but as for Mark, there was no sign.

"Where's your father?" I had to ask.

"He left for work early," our daughter replied.

"Said he might be home late," our son added.

It was the first time during our marriage he'd left without a kiss nor a goodbye for me. It was rather deflating. As soon as I arrived at work, I sent him a message, letting him know I loved him. I didn't mention what we'd discussed, or what I'd told him the night before. I kept it simple. And I sent him the same message whenever I had time.

I tried calling him at lunch, but it went to voicemail. I left a short but sweet message, assuring him that I loved my husband and that would never change. He would remain my husband and we would grow old together, watching our children have some of their own. I liked to think he would listen to it and smile. At least that's what I hoped...

Arriving home later that day, there was no sign of my husband's ute. He sometimes made it home earlier than I did, but often I was home and making dinner by the time he walked in the door. I sighed with relief when he did walk in the front door, a little later than usual, but at least he'd come home. I'd dreaded receiving a call that he'd ended up at some RSL club or a nearby pub, drowning his sorrows, ready to pick a fight when he did walk inside.

There was no kiss on arrival, barely a mumbled greeting, before he disappeared out to the backyard again. My kids didn't seem to pick up on anything, sending our son to get him when dinner was ready. He chatted to our kids like nothing was wrong though I recognised he barely uttered two words in my direction. When dinner was finished and they'd finished cleaning up, he asked the kids to go to their rooms to finish their homework, adding he needed to talk to me.

No offer of a glass of wine this time as he sat opposite me, and he didn't hide the angry nor the anguish on his face. I was left with the belief that he hadn't stopped thinking about it since our words the night before.

"I know you won't let this go, Louise," he stated after a couple of minutes silence, "I know one or many of your friends have filled your head with bullshit. Done my own research today into open relationships, swinging, polygamy, all that new age bullshit that women just seem to eat up nowadays. No wonder the divorce rate is a fucking joke and there are so many men who don't want to get married nowadays. Seems we just end up getting fucked no matter what happens in the end. Yet I know if I say no, you'll just end up cheating on me and prove yourself to be a worthless slut anyway. Either way, I come out the loser in the end." He threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine, you win. You get your way. But there are going to be some fucking rules before we agree to this."

I was so excited I barely took any notice of his rule, already thinking of the three young men at the office who were ready and willing to fuck me. No men back in our home? I wouldn't have done that anyway. Our marriage bed would always be sacrosanct. Lovers must wear protection? Well, I guess until they did an STD test. I wasn't going to miss out on feeling my lovers cum in me, and I was still on birth control anyway. He didn't want to meet nor run into any lovers? That should be easy enough. No sex between us if I've been with a lover recently? Well, I guess that meant less sex for him for the time being.

I didn't even really contemplate what he meant by his next sentence. "From this point forward, I am no longer responsible for your romantic, emotional and physical needs, Louise. Do you understand what I mean?"

With my mind distracted by so many rude thoughts of possible lovers, I didn't really understand or take the time to comprehend what he meant. I mean, he was still going to be married to me. He still loved me. He was just proving how wonderful he was as a husband by allowing me to have this. Besides, I knew it wasn't going to last forever. I'd go out, have my fun for a year or two at most, then I'd stop, and we'd continue as we were.

He stood up once he was done. The anger was gone. Now there was a look of disdain, almost hatred, but I knew my husband well. In his eyes, he was hurting, and I knew I was the one who'd done it. But I remembered what my friends had told me. I needed to be selfish for once in my life. My husband was a grown man. Sure, his feelings were hurt for the time being, but he'd get over it in the end.

I guess I wasn't really surprised that he didn't come to bed that night either. I was about ready to go downstairs and tell him to grow up, but as I was alone in the bedroom, I downloaded a couple of dating apps. I found a couple of recent photos, put up a new profile, let guys know I was married but down to fuck, and simply laid back and waited for the messages to come flooding in.

Then I called Janet. "So how'd it go?" she asked excitedly.

"He's agreed to it, Janet. But I don't think he's happy about it. The way he looked at me..."

"It's just his bruised little ego having to deal with the fact you'll soon be out having a great time, getting laid by a series of young, fit men. Trust me on this, Louise. Young men today are fucking hung, or maybe I'm just lucky..."

"I know James at work is gagging to be with me. I'm going to let him know tomorrow that I'll be available soon."

"Ever had a threesome?"

"Of course not. Mark would never accept another man in our bed, as much as I wouldn't want another woman."

"Well, I think you could cross off a few things on a sexual bucket list. You should write one up and then get started on doing it. Louise, trust me on this. You've been stuck in a dull marriage for nearly twenty years. It's time to go out, live a little, and enjoy life to the full."

I felt myself smiling. All I'd been for so many years was a wife, a mother, and a worker bee. Now it was time to be Louise again. Just Louise.

Things were frosty at home for the rest of the week. I'm fairly sure the kids picked up on the fact my husband was barely talking to me, but if they did, they didn't say anything. I did my best to keep the peace. He did return to our bed, but he showed me absolutely no affection. He was polite enough to wish me goodnight, but there was no hug nor kiss and definitely no cuddling.

I told him on Friday morning that I would be heading out with the girls that night. He barely grunted though I knew wouldn't tell me he wouldn't agree to it. He just gave me another look I was already beginning to recognise, picked up his bag, and left the house without another word. I'd already packed a bag in the event of a massive argument. Whether our kids took notice of their father leaving in a huff, I didn't ask. I kissed them goodbye and told them I'd be late home, whether it was that evening or the next morning.