No Satisfaction

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He's too big for his wife.
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Balaak
Balaak
313 Followers

Life can be such a load of shit. I should have had it all, you know? Hollywood provides this bullshit nonsense that lives are perfect or not, depending on how manly you are. Porn constantly preaches that "bigger is better" without any regard to reality. The erotic stories my wife and I read usually followed a predictable pattern - wife has sex with another man, who invariably has a bigger cock than the writer, wife likes it, and one of two situations develops.

Situation one: the writer is a wimp and likes it too, and watches his wife's couplings with eagerness. He sometimes eats the creampie later.

Situation two: the writer treats his once loved wife like a possession, beating her and showing what a manly man he is with abusive treatment that she has "earned."

What a total load of bullshit.

Maybe those two situations really do happen from time to time, but it bears no resemblance to how life usually works - at least not mine. My wife screwed another man; here is how it developed, and what happened after.

First, I am no wimp. I played football all through my high school and college years. At five foot nine, I weigh in at a very muscular two hundred pounds. My career path has me slinging rebar most of the day. Do you chair-jockeys know what rebar is? The shit is heavy. All through school, I was a fighter. I may have been kicked around bloody, but I've never lost a fight. When I've had a little beer in me, I get a little mean, you know? I love to fight. I love to end fights, and I don't care how many people you throw at me. I've been to a counselor; I know what caused it all in my childhood, but we don't need to go into that. I also have the dream of every boy that grows into a man - I have a big dick. Not massive like some freak, but big. It's eight inches long and thick. I used to show it off in the locker rooms and laugh at the tiny guys. I was the envy of every school buddy I had. That's me and my name is Roy.

Second, my wife is nothing like the typical women you read about in here. She ain't tall, leggy, blonde, beautiful, or sporting ridiculously huge tits for her size. How come every woman in here sounds like Barbie with Dolly Parton tits? I mean, come on. Big tits and skinny women don't go together, unless they're built. I hate fake tits. Ever felt them? They suck. They're all lumpy and disgusting looking. Donna is bone thin and has almost no tits. She's a brunette with thin, silky hair. It hangs to her hips and she has bangs. Her eyes are brown. She's very pretty, but you would never see her in a porn mag. No, not her type of woman - ever.

So, knowing what we are like, Donna and me, let me tell you a bit about us, together. Donna was a good girl. She was a virgin when we married. Yep, she saved herself. That, by itself caused a lot of argument. Know why? Because I hadn't and I was worried. You guys that have eight inches or more will know exactly what I'm talking about. All of the women I had sex with (except maybe one or two) complained that I was too big. Donna just didn't know any better. I tried to tell her that we should try sex before getting married in case she didn't like me. She told me I was being weird and sick. She was under that fantasy assumption that many people seem to be under: that any pussy can take any cock and get "used to it."

I tried to tell her.

Women's pussies aren't all alike. They come in all kinds of shapes and sizes. But the one thing that can be said of all women's pussies is that they don't "mold" to a shape. They aren't like play-doh. They're elastic and filled with nerves and tender spots. Until I learned better, I used my great teenage "wisdom" to try to violently force my girlfriends pussies to accommodate me. I figured they would like a big one, hard and fast. I figured if they were small, I could "stretch them out." I figured that I could ram my cock into them so hard that they would eventually like it because I could stretch them to my size. I figured wrong. After many episodes of painful and tearful sex from the girlfriends, I finally got it. I was just too damn big for most women and the small ones were never going to be able to accommodate me.

That bullshit about some girlfriend or wife being "ruined" by a big cock is exactly that: pure bullshit. Women don't become looser during a single night of ramming by a big cock. Neither do they become looser by a year of ramming. Sure, there's some reduction in pain over time, but the pain never goes fully away, and the soreness is always there. Always.

So, like I said, I tried to tell my wife long before we were married.

Donna has suffered sex with me, painfully, for three years now. We had a daughter. Donna loosened slightly from the birth, but not enough. Whereas she would frequently bleed during sex from ripped skin, after the birth she rarely ever ripped, unless I was rough. Of course, birth or not, I can't fit all eight inches in. Never have, never will, with Donna. I hit her cervix and she screams. I read a lot of stories in here and laugh when they say the woman just gushes pleasure when her cervix is hit and then proceeds to have three hundred orgasms. What another load of shit. Every single cervix I have ever hit has brought screams or tears or both.

Despite all the pain, sex with Donna is fantastic. Her pussy is so incredibly soft. Not tight, like some teenager's dream, but soft and gripping. No two pussies are the same, and none of the ones I had before Donna were as good. However, as good as it was for me on our wedding night, it was a nightmare for Donna. She was a real sport and our love for each other led us to keep trying, even though I knew it was in vain. Donna just took longer to come to the reality that sex with me was going to be forever painful.

From a sexually active three times a week, we quickly dropped to once a week, and eventually twice a month. Donna was just too sore to have frequent sex with me. What we did work out was sexual release. We would pleasure each other with oral sex. Donna got really good at it. I love the feel of her mouth. It just ain't the same, though. I don't know how some guys get off on it in favor of vaginal - I prefer vaginal.

I noticed her withdraw more and more as the months passed, especially after the birth. I tried talking to her and showing her my love, but she seemed disappointed. She loved me, too, and became a fantastic cocksucker for my benefit, but we were headed for trouble. That brings us to about four months ago (Thanksgiving, 2004). I'll pick up with the conversation we had the day after.

"I didn't expect you had any nice looking friends," Donna told me over left-over turkey. She was used to my drinking buddies and co-workers.

"You thought Greg was nice-looking?" Greg was an old high school friend who had moved away, gotten married, divorced and had just moved back into town. He was about my height, but thinner. Softer, I would say. His slicked black hair was nothing like my manly auburn hair and sun-dried freckles. Even the hair on his arms didn't stand out much. I'd seen him in the locker room at high school; he was smaller than me.

"I don't know. He has a polished look about him." Donna shrugged, but I knew she was curious.

So I told her about him. I wasn't jealous about her curiosity. I was ten times more a man than Greg was.

"He seemed very nice," she said after. "He's the only friend of yours I've been around and don't feel overwhelmed at the same time."

"Overwhelmed?"

"Your other friends are all burly and leer at me all the time. I feel like I'm some snack or morsel and I don't like it." She was insistent. "I don't like their looks. I'm not some piece of meat for them to gawk at."

I had seen their gawking, but it made me proud, not angry. Not like I wanted to show off her tits or anything, but that I had a very pretty wife and she was mine. I liked having her on my arm to show off like having a cool motorcycle or awesome truck that you wanted all your friends to see. I wanted to brag. Their envy was my pleasure. I don't go as far as some guys who like to see their wife get groped. The last guy that did that got shoved up against the wall. When he considered my fist aimed at his face, he issued an apology. That was the only smart thing the stupid prick did, and it saved his nose from being a broken, bloody mess.

That conversation played on my mind over the next couple days and it remained there until we had just finished another attempt at vaginal sex. She was in silent tears and it broke my heart.

"I'm such a failure!" She finally burst out. The sobs were loud. She was really bothered when she went from silent to audible sobs. "What's wrong with me?!"

"Aww, come on, hon," I hugged her and tried to tell her the things I've told her for the three years of our marriage. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"Then why is sex so awful? If everyone loves it, why don't I? What's wrong with my body that makes it so painful?" The tears came harder.

I rehashed all my old assurances. I told her it wasn't her, that it was me. I told her that I would have a reduction, if it was possible. I told her I would do my best and be gentle. All the same old stuff. But with repetition comes familiarity. She knew all that. She'd heard it all before.

I was at wits end here. Understand that. The manly man was just too manly for Donna.

I wanted to please her. She was my wife. As her husband, I wanted to be the provider. I wanted to make sure she got everything she needed from me. But I knew we were headed for trouble. I knew that unless something changed, Donna would eventually have an affair. A dissatisfied partner is a lost partner. Divorce to "let her go" wasn't an option. She was my wife and that means everything to me. I had no occasion to want to cheat on her. Sure, I had ogled many women while we were married, that's what guys do. Even the guys that abuse their wives for cheating think it's okay for them to cheat around on the wife. Maybe I looked, but I didn't cheat. The thought of her cheating on me was unbearable.

But if our sex life was so bad that she suffered as she did, and would probably become so distraught that she had an affair, what could I do? Nothing? What kind of answer would that be? Just write her off before anything happened? Maybe get in a little pre-emptive abuse? Maybe I should smack her around just for good measure? That might work in some Lifetime movie, but I was smarter than that.

To say that I was frustrated would be like saying it's a long walk to the moon. As fierce as I was to my adversaries, as strong as I was and as fearless as I was, I couldn't satisfy my wife, sexually, and it was getting worse. The short answer to my very long deliberation was to show her that sex could be good. If it was going to continue to get worse, then doing nothing was something only a stupid man would do. But there was no answer that made me feel good about it. The only answer was to allow her to experience sex with a smaller man.

Wrong move, you say? Really? Things were getting worse, not better. I can't make myself smaller, and the oral sex wasn't doing it. This was a mental issue with her where she thought she was at fault. I had to show her she was wrong. Still, I had no illusions that suddenly things would be wonderful afterwards, if I could convince her to attempt it. But I had to do something, and doing nothing just to let everything fall apart was not an option. I am a man of action.

"Have you ever thought of trying sex with another man?" I asked a few days later.

Her response was several days of shock, argument, self-dissatisfaction, worry and doubt.

When she calmed enough to really talk about it, we spent a week talking about our pasts, my past screws, sizes, shapes, feelings, marriage vows, you name it. We had never had this frank a discussion before. No, she wasn't turned on by the prospect. She didn't get all wet and then engage in hot, wild sex with me. But she also knew we were headed towards problems, even though she assured me, somewhat hesitantly that she would never break her vows.

Was I the better man to force her to suffer? But I was realistic, too. I knew we were headed for "the end" if I did nothing. But we were headed for the end no matter what I did, I think. So what was to lose by trying anything?

"Donna, I love you, and I want to see you happy." I had to try something, anything.

"I love you too," she said and smiled at me. But there was a shadow to her eyes. I could see it welling up from her soul.

"I want you to experience sex the way it is supposed to be. The way I can't give you." We were both quiet a long time. "Maybe if you see you're not the problem things might be better."

"Better, how?" Tears welled up in her eyes.

"It's not good with me, but I'm your husband. Let me provide for you, even if we ultimately fail."

"What, so you get someone to rape me and then what? Everything is wonderful?" She was shaking her head.

"Come on, Donna. Don't get sarcastic about it. I love you too much to just do nothing and watch it all go poof."

She was silent. No contradiction, no approval or disapproval.

"You think it's easy for me to talk about this?"

She shook her head no and dropped her gaze.

"Look, if nothing changes, we're doomed anyway. Why not let me try something for you?"

Silence.

"I can find someone and we can try this..."

"You want me to fuck some bar dude? No way! No stranger is going to get between my legs!"

"Okay! I'm sorry. Someone you know and we agree on, then."

"I don't want to talk about this any more." She got up and walked out of the room.

For two more days, I mulled all this over in my mind. The end was coming by doing nothing. I could tell. Love wasn't enough. Oh, love was strong; it kept us together for three years, but it's grip was fading, even though the love was just as strong. Water erodes even rock, and her self-doubt and sexual dissatisfaction was the water on the rock of our marriage.

"If I have to do this thing for you, then let's get it over with," she said as I put away my dinner plate.

I didn't fall for the bait. "Want to discuss who to choose?"

"No. I don't want any of your friends pawing all over me. They're disgusting. You can ask Greg. I think he's the only one I can stand the thought of doing this with."

Greg? Well, she couldn't have picked a better friend of mine, that's for sure. He was barely masculine. He was handsome in a sort of pretty way, but not rugged like me.

Hell, it might work after all, I thought. Now, just to approach Greg about it.

Somehow, it was harder to get the nerve to approach Greg about it than it was to talk to Donna. I had to down several drinks before I had the guts to just come out and ask.

"Hey, um, Donna and I were wondering if you'd like to sleep with her?" I'm sure my face was flushed, and I felt heat radiate from me in a sudden rush.

Greg's eyebrows rose up to his hairline and he blinked several times. "Uh..."

"I'm too big for her and I want her to know how nice regular sex can be. She wants someone we know, so we chose you." I said it all in a rush.

Greg turned redder than me. "Well, uh... what do you say to that?"

We both laughed nervously, but in the end, he agreed. He was flattered that we had chosen him and not some stranger.

I was excited like a kid getting to go to Disneyland. Nervous, I guess. I told him that she wanted me there. I told him the rest of the conditions. We were both to have her, but he should go first. I wanted him to feel how good she felt before I got to her. This was going to happen once, and he was to wear a condom. He thought I meant diseases, and he assured me he was clean, but I told him for contraceptive purposes. I told him that I would be there but might or might not be in the room, depending on if I could handle what was going on or not.

So, he came over that next evening. The little one was out with the babysitter and we were all alone in the house.

We drank a little, to loosen up, and talked, but Donna was shaking with nerves. Greg looked concerned and offered to give her a massage to get a little closer and help her relax.

"A massage? You know, that actually sounds like a good idea," Donna smiled, still nervous.

I watched like a possessive mother hen as Greg worked her over on the bed. He spent a good twenty minutes relaxing her, smoothing away her tense muscles, and undressing her in the process. It was exactly the thing she needed. When he started to sexually massage her, she hummed dreamily in response. Watching another man run his hands over my wife's little tits made me angry at myself. Those were my tits. But it was my fault this was happening.

Greg shed his clothes as Donna watched. She flushed in embarrassment, but didn't otherwise move. Good. I got out of my clothes, too. I was supposed to participate after Greg.

When he leaned over her and kissed her, I about pulled him off. Jealousy took over and I came up out of my chair. I stopped, though. A kiss was intimate, but so was a screw. I saw Donna respond to his kiss and bring her arm up around his neck. Greg was naked, kneeling on the bed next to her, and my anger and jealousy were attacking me. But in the middle of my own battle, my cock was getting hard.

What the fuck?

I had heard about and read about this in the stories of other people, but I thought that it was all the same bullshit. But here was my cock getting hard at the sight of a naked man kneeling next to my wife. I would have to ask my counselor about it the next time I saw him. I knew that men liked to show off their wives as a matter of childish pride, so maybe this had something to do with that.

When Greg's fingers fluttered over my wife's clit, Donna responded by spreading her thin legs. My breathing grew audible as the anger and jealousy receded a little.

Donna's hips moved slowly up and down against his hand and she gasped when he inserted a finger into her pussy. I felt like a little kid with his first Playboy magazine. My heart pounded as I watched something I wasn't supposed to be seeing. Greg's smaller cock hardened as he continued kissing and fingering her. Donna reached out and touched his cock.

Anger welled back up in me and I wanted them to do the thing and get it over with. But I knew that it would have to proceed at it's own pace or it would all be in vain. As she began stroking his cock, though, I began feeling happiness, as well. I was happy that she was involved enough to participate. I was happy that Greg got to experience my wife as a full partner, and not just an uninterested screw. Just three seconds of her stroking him made me almost fully erect.

When Greg crawled over her and she spread her legs for him, I almost thought I was coming. But I wasn't. A tickle-like tingle ran up my shaft as it hardened the closer he got to my wife's pussy. When he aimed it at her opening, a drizzle of pre-cum started oozing out of my cock. A long rope of it came out and I didn't know what to do with it except wipe it off the tip. Then I remembered Greg.

"Condom," I reminded him.

He had almost touched her without one. He got back up quickly and tore open the package I gave him. He rolled the condom onto six inches of thin cock. He wasn't tiny, but he certainly didn't have anything to brag about. For some strange reason, him being smaller made me feel better about them having sex. Don't ask; I don't know why.

With his sheathed cock, he moved back to my wife and rubbed it all over her opening. Donna's hips bucked up to him and she squirmed. Not to get him in, but in trepidation. I felt with a sinking feeling that she expected this to hurt, as well. If she didn't enjoy it, then I will have totally failed her.

Fortunately, Greg was taking it slow and working up her lust. I could see it in her, warring with the fear. When Greg used his hand to guide his cock at her entrance and pushed, I strode forward. I don't know what it was, but seeing his cock slide into my wife's pussy acted like a tow rope on my own cock. As it slid into her, my cock pointed at her and drew me forward. The moan that sounded in the room came from me, not her. More pre-cum oozed from my cock. I almost felt like I was pissing.

Balaak
Balaak
313 Followers
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