tagLoving WivesMonogamy Isn't for Everyone

Monogamy Isn't for Everyone


Monogamy is prized in most of Western Civilization. While I'm not an anthropologist I have studied enough social sciences, and read enough, to realize that monogamy can have many advantages. They include, but are not restricted to, lack of concern about STDs, a readily available sex partner, trust, emotional fulfillment, and even economic benefits. In general, monogamy can lead to a harmonious life.

Where children are involved monogamy has a number of social benefits. Most sociologists and anthropologists agree that monogamy is the best way to protect a family unit. Customarily it has helped ensure that fathers support their wives and children, and allowed for property to be inherited when the parents died. Traditionally it also provides the most stable environment in which to nurture children.

Not everyone is happy with a "harmonious" life, however, or is completely sold on monogamy ensuring the most stable environment for raising offspring. There are some people, whether they be risk takers by nature, adrenaline junkies, or have the propensity to be easily bored, where other factors can outweigh the normal personal or societal advantages of a monogamous relationship. I'm in the latter group.

I, Celeste Childress nee Jensen, was brought up in a conventional Midwestern American home. My family was religious, but not overly so, and my monogamous (according to everything that I have ever been able to glean about them) parents gave my two brothers and me good traditional values while at the same time they taught us to think independently. As the only girl I was protected and sheltered more than my male siblings, but again not to extremes. In fact, I probably needed a little more sheltering than my brothers because I always was a risk taker whether it came to physical challenges (especially sports, which I excelled at), school work (my term papers were always "out there," garnering many A+s and a few D minuses), or relationships (friendly or romantic).

I followed a pretty typical relationship path for those in my part of the world and had a fair number of sexual encounters with a number of different boys, then men, as I matured. I don't think that I was particularly unusual because I enjoyed the physical aspects of sex even if I had no significant emotional involvement with my partner, although normally if I had real feelings for the guy the sex was more satisfying. However, if a guy was cute, respectful, and discrete, and liked easting pussy, he could most likely get me to fuck him by devoting only a reasonable amount of time and effort whether or not I had a true romantic interest in him.

I'll leave my appearance to your imagination, except to say that since my senior year in High School I have been five feet eleven inches tall and weighed between 133 and 141 pounds. My most outstanding feature is my long legs -- long even for someone my height -- including sculptured muscular thighs. My nickname in High School and college was "killer," a testament both to my ability to spike a volleyball and my thighs.

I fell in love my senior year in college, gave up my volleyball scholarship to concentrate on my relationship, and married Frank Childress a year after we graduated. Frank did like to eat pussy, and was -- considering the emotional component -- a good fuck. I married him with the clear intention of practicing monogamy. After all "forsaking all others" was in my wedding vows and the value system instilled by my parents prized honesty.

Frank was/is a go-getter, and has always been a success in business. That requires a significant time commitment. While he likely bestows an average amount of attention on me, based upon what I perceive is the case for my married female friends, he certainly is not super-attentive. Also, he doesn't share the need that I have for physical activity. His natural metabolism allows him to remain slim despite his lack of physical activity. I don't know if I would maintain my physique if I stopped exercising because I never have my entire life. I like my five foot eleven inch, roughly 135 pound, frame and the energy level I have maintained even into my thirties. I love the rush that a good workout gives -- it is SO much better than the high I got the few times (in college) that I got drunk or took mild recreational drugs, neither of which I have done since my senior year in college.

When Frank was keeping a particularly busy work schedule during our ninth year of marriage, and I was primarily taking care of our five year old son, Brad, and three year old daughter, Bernice, and working outside the home only about ten hours a week, I started to have my first misgivings about monogamy. Of course many women go through an anxious period when they worry that they are changing from a sexual being to just a "mom," and "wife," but my situation was different.

I never, ever, doubted my sexual attractiveness, and the physical and emotional demands of taking care of two small kids never bothered me because of my traditionally high energy level. However, it was my obvious sexual attractiveness, boredom, and my risk taking nature, that caused me to think carefully about monogamy and its relationship to the institution of marriage.

I talked -- in general terms only -- with most of my female friends, whether married, single, divorced, or widowed. They had all different takes on things, brought up many interesting points some of which reinforced the classic advantages of monogamy, and some of which were virtually opposite. I finally reached the point where I thought that I needed to directly confront the issue.

I confronted my feelings first by carefully examining the relationships between my married friends or co-workers (past and present) who had children five to ten years older than mine, including actually getting them to participate in confidential phone surveys by employing a young actress friend of mine interested in earning a few extra bucks.

Secondly, I shipped the kids to their willing grandparents for a full week and insisted that Kent accompany me on a second honeymoon of sorts, although I certainly never referred to it as that. I carefully observed Kent, his reactions to other women (few), his reaction to me (attentive but uninspiring), and reactions of other men to me (excited).

Thirdly, I started partaking in challenging competitive athletics, obviously not to the extent that I had when playing three sports in High School or intercollegiate volleyball, but enough so that my adrenaline flowed more frequently and forcefully.

Finally, I consulted with two psychologists, a marriage counselor, and an attorney, about classic effects of an affair by one of the spouses. I also read extensively on the subject, and spent the entire day with a divorced friend of mine who had caught her husband cheating, and a half-day with another friend who had cheated on her husband and was now going through a bitter divorce.

At the end of my examination/evaluation, which took the better part of six months, I came to a definitive conclusion. I wanted casual sex two to three times a week with the same partner, with minimum possibility of destructive emotional involvement on either of our parts. I felt that I needed that to make my life exciting, that it was the only thing that could do that for me, and that I was willing to accept the consequences if I was found out. Those consequences would include accepting a divorce without complaint or acrimony, ensuring that Kent had ready access to his kids (even though he was not a particularly vigilant or involved father) even if it meant we had to live in adjacent apartments, and giving up the many material things that Kent's business success provided.

As part of my decision I vowed to myself that I would not lie to Kent about my sexual activities. I certainly would never volunteer information but if he ever asked me a direct question I would admit to them.

The next thing that I had to do was to find a worthy partner, one who could accept a trial relationship. My requirements for a partner were physical fitness, love of eating pussy, discretion, ready availability, no possible problems with diseases, ability to deal with a sexual relationship without overpowering emotional commitment, and someone who had enough to lose if our sexual relationship was discovered to have a powerful motive to be as attentive to secrecy as I would be.

This latter component ended up to be more difficult to achieve than I thought possible. I had not found a suitable partner even after almost eight months of active searching. During that time, just to assure myself that this was what I wanted, I did engage in two sexual escapades, the first three months into my search, the second six months into it.

In the first sexual escapade, I dropped the kids off at my parents' house one morning when Kent was out of town and I went to a University campus about thirty miles away. I found and seduced a true "hunk." He ate me to two orgasms in his room at a fraternity house, and although I made him use a condom he fucked me good. Actually, he figuratively fucked my brains out. The adrenaline rush I got from that -- especially after I saw his roommate peeking in on us with a wide-eyed expression and with his hand obviously on his cock -- made me redouble my efforts to find a partner.

In the second sexual escapade, while at a convention with Kent on a tropical island, two days in a row I went to a hotel on the other side of the island while Kent was attending meetings, trying to scare up some appropriate cock. The second day I got lucky. I found a guy on the beach who was attending a convention with his wife, who also was in meetings. We compared their schedules, I showed him my pussy, and in his hotel room that afternoon he ate me to one orgasm, fucked me doggy (with a condom on) through two more, and I gave him a blow job. This experience made me quadruple my efforts to find a suitable paramour.

During the eighth month of my search my persistence paid off. One Saturday night at a party hosted at her house by one of my ten year older female friends there were a few of the teachers from the private religious school that her son attended. One was/is a social studies teacher and the boys' basketball coach. His name is Garrett Danner. He clearly met my first criteria since he was six three, two hundred pounds, with big biceps and a flat stomach. His face wasn't classically handsome but had character.

I had a long conversation with Garrett, some of it one-on-one, most of it with other people. At the party I found out that he was thirty, two years younger than I was, had been divorced for three years, had no kids, and although he worked at a religious private school was not himself religious, something that he had successfully kept from the administration and even the parents of his students. For some reason I was impressed that he would entrust me with that information -- in my experience that meant that he, himself, was likely trustworthy.

As more luck would have it, the school he taught at was interested in organizing a girls' volleyball team in order to comply with Title IX and had asked him to do the initial ground work for it, including the possibility of hiring a coach.

Garrett clearly had eyes for me although he was noticeably non-plussed by my wedding and engagement rings and when I briefly introduced him to Kent. However, the fact that I had been a Division I college volleyball player intrigued him tremendously. We made arrangements to have lunch at the school Wednesday of the next week.

Between Saturday night and Wednesday morning I found out everything that I could about Garrett. I even had a firm specializing in background checks do one on him. Some of the worthwhile information I found out from my many sources was that he lived alone in a small house in a wooded area within two miles of my house, was considered so honest by the school that they entrusted him with all of the proceeds of all of the fund raising activities the kids engaged in, and that he was well-liked by everyone who came in contact with him. He also had no criminal or shady past.

My first meeting with Garrett, on May 30, was encouraging. He was obviously a leg man since he was clearly distracted by the long muscular legs extending out from my shorts, although I didn't let on that I noticed his ogling. That meeting led to a second, and then a third the day after school got out.

I had already surmised during the second meeting that he wasn't planning on working full time during the summer, but rather doing special projects for the school, being a part-time basketball and volleyball instructor at a local camp, and doing home improvement projects around his house. I was loaded for bear at the third meeting.

I arrived at the third meeting in short shorts and a tank top, designed to give him a good look at my assets to see if they appealed to him. It was clear that they did.

I told him that I would be happy to help with a volleyball team by providing technical instruction, but that I didn't have time to be a full time coach. He seemed happy with that. After the "business" part of the meeting I asked him about his house and home improvement projects, with the hope of getting an invitation there. It worked, and I followed him to his secluded wooded lot. In actuality I didn't give a shit about his house, except for the possibility of using it for future sexual encounters, but I did want a completely private place to "proposition" him.

As we got out of our cars he asked "Would you like to see the back of the house where I'm going to put in a deck?"

"Actually, Garrett," I demurely replied, "I hope that you won't be angry with me but I wanted to come out here to have a private conversation -- one I didn't feel comfortable in having at the school. Is there somewhere that we can sit and talk privately?"

"Sure -- how about the front porch?" he responded with a confused look on his face.

I made sure that my hair was OK as I walked behind him up to his small front porch with two facing chairs. They were Adirondack chairs, meaning that when I sat down my butt would be slightly below my knees so that he could get some snatches of my pussy because -- oh dear, oh dear -- I forgot to wear panties.

Once I made a little small talk and I could see his eyes occasionally focusing on my crotch I started right in.

"Garrett, I'm a very straightforward person. I honestly do have an interest in helping with the volleyball team, but I also have my own agenda for meeting with you."

"What's that, Celeste?"

"Can I count on you not repeating anything that we talk about here today to anyone, ever?"

"I'm very discrete -- sometimes to the point of a fault -- so unless what you about to tell me is illegal my lips are sealed forever, Celeste."

I smiled broadly. "I have been searching for a way to get the adrenaline rush that I used to get from competitive athletics. Working out daily, or even the types of sports competitions I've been involved in recently, just don't do it for me anymore. I need more excitement, and a true adrenaline rush. Can you understand that?"

"Sure -- I miss competition myself," he nodded.

"I've thought long and hard about it -- over more than a year -- and I've come up with only one thing that will satisfy my need for an adrenaline rush and excitement. I need -- if you will excuse the expression -- a discrete, physically-fit, long-term, healthy, disease-free, 'fuck buddy.'" After I said that I paused for dramatic effect and moved my knees as far apart as they would go, pushed against the chair arms.

Garrett stared at me, his face almost expressionless, but he clearly gulped.

"Garrett, you're the only person I've come across so far that I think fits my criteria; do you have any interest in being my fuck buddy?"

"Aren't you married -- you're not getting divorced or separated, are you?" he stuttered, obviously a little uncomfortable.

"Yes I am married, and I most likely will not be getting divorced or separated, that is unless my husband Kent finds out what I have planned. In that case he likely will file for divorce. However, I'm willing to accept the consequences."

"Aren't you in love with him?"

I again paused for dramatic effect and painted a sly grin on my face. "I love him, but I'm not 'in love' with him -- do you know the difference?" I didn't give him a chance to answer that but simply continued, "I know that you do know the difference; that was a rhetorical question."

I crossed and uncrossed my legs while staring provocatively at him before I continued. "This isn't about him, however. It's about me. Trust me when I tell you that I know myself, and am certain that without a sexual relationship outside marriage I'm not going to be a happy person."

"Exactly what do you mean by a 'fuck buddy,' Celeste?"

"I mean someone that I can be sexually open with, who is willing to fuck two or three times a week at mutually agreeable times and places, who I can fuck without emotional involvement."

"What if I become emotionally involved with you?"

"You'll have to guard against that. I'm not looking for a divorce from Kent or a legally recognized relationship with you, and you'd have to understand that going in."

"What do I get out of it?" he asked in a manner that probably wasn't serious, but I couldn't be 100% sure.

As I stood up, removed my top, then dropped my shorts, sure that my moist pussy was glistening. Once he got a good look I snickered "If I have to explain that to you, you're not the guy." His eyes were as big as baseballs. "Tell you what, Garrett, you think about it. If you're interested in a two week trial period -- which is what I'm looking for right now -- call me when you have an STD-free certification, and we'll 'talk' again."

"Haven't you ever heard the expression 'Beware of Greeks bearing gifts?'" he chortled.

"Haven't you ever heard of 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth?'" I countered.

After a pregnant pause I started to pull up my shorts when he stood and stopped me. With a devilish smile he said "Hold on one second; there's something I need you to see just inside the door of my house."

He unlocked his front door, and I stepped out of my shorts -- my casual high heels still on -- and followed him inside. He reached onto a small antique table near his front door, grabbed a piece of paper, and handed it to me.

"What's this?" I asked, a little surprised.

"You're not the only one who has conducted an investigation," he chuckled. "I know all about you questioning people about me, and I found out as much as I could about you too. I'm a smart guy -- I knew what the most likely reason was why you were doing your investigation. I could see it in your eyes and feel it in your touch the day we first met, and I knew as thorough and intelligent as you are what paperwork you would want if I was right about your motives."

The bastard had given me an "All-Clear" report from a local STD testing lab. As I was looking it over he removed his shoes, socks, and shirt -- he had a great upper body.

"I accept your proposal for a trial period with a caveat. I want six real fucks, aside from any oral or hand activity, for a test. After that we'll re-evaluate. Deal?" he said, extending his hand.

I smiled, and extended my hand, shook his, and said "Deal."

A nanosecond after I mouthed "Deal," with his left hand he had yanked my tits into contact with his chest, released our grip, and was dropping his shorts with his right hand.

Still standing, we mauled each other until we could no longer contain our excitement. He backed me up to the only couch in his first floor living area. I thumped down on it, and he immediately got on his knees, spread my legs apart, and dove into my pussy with acute alacrity. He certainly knew how to eat pussy because within minutes I had climaxed twice already, having almost passed out the first time when he sucked my distended clit into his mouth.

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