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The Pro

By: ccnyman



For Idyll. 

*

"You're a professional," she said. "I feel I need a pro."

On the screen our two avatars were snuggled against each other on the bed after a quick session of sex. It had to be quick, her husband could be home any minute.

"I want to know what I may have been missing. I want to know how good it could be."

Our avatars were in Virtual World where we met and where we became lovers. Virtual lovers that is. Our lovemaking has been through words (well, ok, a few times it was through voice chat) and watching two little figures go through all the motions. Not that we weren't busy in real life. The wad of tissue with my cum was still lying on my desk. I wasn't in a rush to clean it up. My wife wasn't due home soon. I wondered how she would react if I left it there. She probably wouldn't notice as we both hardly notice anything about the other anymore. Ours was a lonely marriage.

"You know I had a few lovers before Greg. I think everyone's been an amateur compared to you. I enjoyed all the sex I had, but now I feel something was missing. Maybe they didn't know too well what they were doing. Or maybe they cared more about getting their own rocks off. Even with Greg. And now even that is gone with him. I told you he doesn't even care to touch me any more. I don't know what it is. We still love each other, but the sex is gone"

I knew that. I even tried to help her when we first met. I thought about what I would like and told her to try it on Greg. She did. She went into the bedroom after showering, wearing only that thin pink robe she only bought recently, loosely belted, slightly parted, revealing the curves of her lovely breasts. I know her breasts are lovely. It may have been bad of me, but I asked her to send me a picture of how she would look before she tried it on Greg. It took a while, but she finally did, reluctantly. Anyway, she went to him and held him, kissing him good night, wrapping her arms around him. She always kissed him good night, but this wasn't going to be a quick one if she could help it. She never told me what happened, not in detail. All I know is that it ended up like all the other nights in her recent past with both going quickly to sleep. Still, he bought her flowers the next day.

"Phone," she typed and I waited, looking at the two of us, the two avatars. We were spooned, her back against my chest, my arm around her. The world was in night and the only glow was that from the fireplace and the only noise was the crackling of the fire. Peaceful. But I wanted more. I wanted her again. I wanted her to cum again. 

"Greg has to work late," she typed. "He won't be home until 10." I saw the words on the screen, spoken by her avatar and I looked at the time. It was only 6, but could I convince her?

I typed rapidly.

"Stroking your hair. Its wildness after a fuck. Its softness. Our bodies still coated with sweat. My arm pulls you closer against me. Your smell. Your sex smell lingeringly drifting in the room."

I clicked on the bed, bringing up the menu, quickly finding what I wanted. My avatar shifted a little, hand now between her legs, stroking her.

"My hand reaches to cup your breast, feeling its fullness, taking your nipple between my fingers to squeeze it, then tugging gently."

"Then lower, between your legs, cupping your mound. My fingers lightly press your slit and feel your moisture and my cum."

"You're getting me horny again," she typed.

"Let me call you, Di. Let me hear your voice. Let me hear you being fucked."

I waited, watching my avatar's arm move between her legs, imagining our cum coating my finger.

"Ok," she finally replied.

I put on my headset and dialed her number. Her voice came over, a soft "Hello".

"Hello, Di," I said a little uncertainly. We hadn't done voice much and I know she preferred writing so it was always hard for me to think of how to start when we did talk. I wasn't sure how to continue now actually. Might as well plunge right into it. 

"Even after just fucking you Di I need you again. I need to feel your pussy lips between my fingers." I paused. "Did you pulled your jeans back on?"

A "yes" came so low I barely heard it.

"Unzipper them," I whispered. "Slide your hand under. Under your panties. Hand flat against your pussy. That's how you like it, isn't it? Your panties pressing your hand against your pussy, trapping it."

A small sigh. "Yes."

"Rub yourself. Slowly. Get yourself ready for my cock."

I leaned back in my chair, the beginning of desire stirring in me, but not in my cock. No problem. I wanted to hear her and I did. Soft moans now, barely heard. So sweet.

"Are you ready to take my cock, Di?" A demand more than a question.

"Please," she whispered. "Please."

"What is it, Di? What are you asking for?"

"Oh, please. Your cock. I need your cock."

"Take your vibe now. Turn it on, slide it under your panties. Hold it between your pussy lips."

I brought up the menu again and switched our avatar's positions. They were doing it doggie style now.

"Press down on it. Part your pussy lips with the tip of the vibe. Keep it there."

I closed my eyes and listened to her breathing, shallow, sharp, quick. I saw her with her head rolled back, eyes closed, her hand caught in her panties, the vibe glistening a little from her moistness.

"I need your cock in me. Fuck me, Rick."

"Ok, put the vibe in you now, sliding it slowly. You're taking my cock. Take it inside your cunt. Fuck yourself with it. Hard now. Hard and deep. Fuck yourself Di."

Moans still soft, but coming faster now.

"Hard, Di! I'm taking you. I'm taking your cunt with my cock. You need it and you're getting it. Spread your legs wider. Open yourself wide for me. Spread them, Di."

"Fuck me, Rick. Please, please fuck me," she started pleading.

"Feel my cock, Di, ramming hard into you, filling your pussy. Pushing your body forward as I shove it in deep."

Her moans were running together now. Her breathing soft but heavy. I heard it building. And building. Her gasps louder now. I imagined her rotating her pelvis, working that vibe in, feelng my hard cock.

Then she came. It was a long, rolling one, her moans soft and urgent. Then silence before a giggle. I switched the avatars so they cuddled each other. 

"Twice today," she said. "I told you you're a pro."

I felt happy. I was going to play the sound of her voice, the sound of her fucking herself in my head later, when my cock could get hard again.

"Rick?" she asked. "I'm serious. You've made me feel so good. My body never felt this. I want to know what I missed. Look, I'll be in your town for a business trip next month. I'll need to stay overnight. Come to me. Show me. I need to know before I'll never be able to know."

I sat there, staring at the screen. Then I typed, "We'll see."

She didn't have to see for long. A month flew by and we were seated in a local restaurant, a place my wife and I have never been, one of oh so many.

The clinking of the silverware and the drone of the diner's conversation provided a soft symphony filling the night. The lights were dim, but not enough to dim the glow coming from the other side of the table. I thought the meeting would be awkward and stilted, but we began talking right away just as we always did in Virtual World. Dinner passed in a rush. Desert and coffee passed in a rush and now we were sitting there, idly chatting, waiting.

"Are you staring at me, Rick?" she asked.

I was. I was staring at her smile and I was caught. I could only give an awkward smile in return.

Her hand reached over and clasped mine. I leaned forward to brush away a strand of her hair from her eye.

"My hair," she sighed. "I can't control it. It sticks out all ways no matter what I do."

I leaned forward again and brushed my fingers in her hair, feeling its softness, playing with small strands. My fingers couldn't let go.

"Perhaps we should go?" she whispered.

I nodded and looked for the waiter, signaling for the check when I saw him.

We walked to my car. It was a warm night and the air felt like a lover's caress. As I went to her side to open the door for her, her hand went around my head, pulling it down, our lips meeting in a gentle kiss. Such soft lips.

Driving to her hotel, I had to constantly remind myself not to speed. At every stop at a red light, my hand went to touch her hair, to feel the curve of her shoulder, her arm. It wasn't a long drive to the hotel, but it was a long drive.

As soon as the door to her room closed, her hand went around my head again, pulling it down again. A soft kiss turned into a deep one. My hands flowed along her back, flowed down, grasping her soft ass, pushing her tighter against me.

Her hand released and she slid down to her knees.

"No, Di. You don't need to." 

"Yes, Rick. I want to see if I'd like it with you."

She unzipped my jeans and tugged on them, pulling them to my thighs, then pulling my underwear down, exposing my cock, still soft. She moved her head and I felt her warm mouth surrounding it. She didn't like to do it so didn't do it a lot and I could tell she felt awkward. But my cock got harder and she began moving her head back and forth, making little slurping sounds. I looked down to see her sucking on me. Her lovely mouth taking my cock glistening with her saliva. I pulled back, freeing my cock and grabbed her hair, pushing it against my wet cock, rubbing her face with it, getting her face wet with her own spit. Her eyes were closed and she opened her face to my rubbing cock.

I pulled her up and kissed her again, tasting my cock on her mouth.

"I do like it with you, Rick," she whispered.

"Let me undress you," I said gently.

And slowly I did. I unbuttoned her shirt, taking my time with each button, then the button on her sleeves. Slipping her shirt off, I reached back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall. Moving to be behind her, my lips brushed her neck, my hands cupped her breasts, squeezing gently, thumbs rubbing her nipples, getting them hard. I couldn't get enough of how they felt and I stayed pressed against her back, kissing her neck, playing with her soft breasts. Her eyes were half shut and I felt her tremble.

I moved my hands lower then, brushing them against her stomach, unsnapping her jeans, moving under them. My fingers found more hair to love. This time coarser and not as smooth. They ran over her pubic hair, relishing the feel of each strand as my hand pressed lower. Feeling the edge of her slit, I pressed against it with my palm. Her hand pressed against mine over her jeans and she moved her hand forcing my hand to move along with it.

"That's right, Di. Show me. Show me how you like to do it," I whispered into her ear.

She used my hand - pressing hard against it, moving it quickly, making me rub against her. One of my fingers parted her pussy lips and lay against her slit. She pressed one of her fingers against it and pushed my finger in, into her pussy which was beginning to get moist. With my other hand I pushed her jeans and undies down, brushing her hand aside ,and began finger fucking her. One finger, then two, fucking her cunt, getting coated with her pussy juices which were running now. My hand felt the wetness which ran down her legs.

Her hands reached up, clasping around my neck, holding herself up as I fucked her with my two fingers. Gentle, wet squishy noises filled the room as she moved her hips to meet my fingers. I nibbled on her ear, kissed her neck and looked at her face, seeing it lost in the feeling she was feeling in her cunt.

Gently taking her hands off of my neck, I knelt down and pull her pants the rest of the way off, lifting one foot off the floor then the other. I could smell her.

I twirled her around and lifted myself up a little, desperate for that taste of her. My tongue dug into her slit tasting, wanting more. Then it flicked against her clit, teasing it with oh so light flicks. Her hand grabbed my head and pushed. She rotated her pelvis, grinding herself against my mouth, my tongue. My face was soaked with her pussy juice. All I could smell was her. My mouth found her clit and I sucked on it, taking that little hardness into my mouth, nipping at it with my teeth.

Now I needed her. I stood up and pulled her toward the bed, gently pushing her on it. As she lay on her back, I took her legs and spread them, pulling them up over my shoulders. I leaned downwards.

"Guide me in Di. Take my cock."

Her hand wrapped around my cock and held it as I pushed forward slowly into her. I wanted this feeling, this moment to last, but all too soon I was deep in her. Her eyes looked down between her bent legs to see and I started fucking her. Slowly. Gently. My cock moving in long, steady strokes as she watched herself being fucked.

I leaned forward some more, pushing her knees close to her chest and kissed her. Deep kisses and deep strokes. My balls wet. My pubic hair wet. Then a little harder. My thrusts pushing her into the bed. I lifted myself up, holding her feet with my hands, keeping her legs spread wide for me. A soft moan escaped from her and she looked down again between her legs. Her hands crossed against her breasts, hugging herself, as I fucked her hard now, ramming her into the bed every time my cock pushed deep into her pussy.

Her eyes looked into mine, not seeing, only showing her need for more.

I pounded hard. My balls slapped against her ass, the wet noises of her being fucked loud in the room. Her mouth opened in a moan, the more moans coming close together, then a wail. Her body shivered. And shivered. Her eyes slowly cleared and she looked at me.

"Cum in me, RIck," she said in a moan.

I tried to push my cock into her even deeper wanting to take her soul. I tried not to cum. I wanted it to last all night. I wanted to be in her all night. But I couldn't hold it back. My eyes closed and I gasped as I felt my cock jerk and my cum mingle with hers. Violent spasms in my cock as I came which slowly died down.

I let her legs down and covered her body with mine, staying in her as long as I could. Then I laid by her side, soft, my arms around her as she closed her eyes. We soon drifted off into a light sleep. She woke later that night and we fucked again and even after that, I still wanted her.

Morning was harsh. The light too bright and we were too tired. The neon lights in the restaurant where we had breakfast hurt our eyes. Still, she grabbed my hand across the table and couldn't stop smiling. The taxi taking her to the airport was coming for her shortly after breakfast. I carried her suitcase down and we stood in the front waiting.

"Thank you, Rick," she murmured. "I know now."

Her cellphone rang.

"It's Greg. He must be worried that I didn't call last night" and she walked off to talk.

I stared into the distance trying to focus on what was in front of me. The only sound I could hear was the soft murmur of her voice talking to Greg. Then she stopped and walked back.

Before she could say anything the taxi pulled up. I opened the door for her and as she got in she said, "A pro, RIck. You're a pro" and brushed her lips against my cheek.

I watched the taxi pull away, getting smaller and smaller until it was gone.

I stood there staring into the distance, unable to move, not sure if I could ever move again.

The Problem



I don't expect anyone to read all the way through this. It is just something I have written to try and feel better about something that is bothering me right now. However, if you do read all the way through, would you mind responding?

The problem

My life is sailing along fairly well right now but it just seems to want to have one or two big rocky waves to keep the ride from being comfortable. Is that a rule about lives that problems keep popping up at such inopportune times or is just my life that has to have something to keep it from being pretty great? The quest for the holy wave calmer has begun.

What you are reading is written for me by me. Obviously, I have no writing skills nor is there any desire to write. However, in this instance, I am hoping that by writing about what is happening and what has happened will be very good therapy for me, my mind and my life. It would be great if this writing helped calm the waves and maybe help me to get better insight into my life or at least let me be more comfortable with circumstances. Yes, it is quite a bit more frou-frou than I am normally willing to be as I am the anti psycho analytical type. I am going to give it a fair and honest try just to see if there is a way that it might help.

We all have problems and sometimes they can mentally consume us and nearly destroy us both physically and mentally. This problem I have, does consume me at times but I am at a point in life where it will not destroy me or the relationships I have. Personally, I like to work out my own problems, whether they are really problems or just perceived to be, in my own mind. Of course, if you think something is a problem, it is, because if nothing else, you are influenced by it and you react to life with this influence. Sometimes our minds when faced with trials will influence us to greatness but usually it just exposes weakness. Hopefully I will have one of those rare greatness episodes that has been too long in getting back my way.

Most of the time, this self therapy works for me, at least well enough for me to deal effectively with it and get back to living life. Sometimes, it just doesn't. Perhaps this will be a tool to help me get to where I need to be. 

Surely this writing must have a name and perhaps, somewhere in here I will find a name that fits it. For the time being I am naming this "The Problem." God knows we all have problems and I am not selfish enough to think my problems is the most important in the world but when it consumes my thoughts and makes me blue, it has to become important to me.

For the most part, my life is relatively peachy right now. Not a bunch to complain about other than the usual strife of working too much and never enough time to get to do things that you want to do. However, the oddest thing, at least for me, is throwing me into blue swings that are nearly emotionally crippling. 

I have been a married man for nearly 17 years and have never been happier in my marriage than I am right now. I am thirty-six years old and my wife is forty-four. (I started subtracting a year at every birthday the year after my fortieth) We have two children together, my wonderful son Horace, 15, a calm wonderful child that most parents would love to have and Ellen, 4, a child that most parents have. She is a busy, bossy, tough, tantrum throwing wonder. Absolutely the 11 years in between their births is a factor in Ellen's demeanor and the fact that she was born to two forty year olds rather than the 29 year olds that Horace was born. We didn't mean for eleven years to come between our children. Two other pregnancies ended in miscarriage and we were just determined to have another child. Be careful what you wish for because you might just find it.

My wife Kathy and I met when she was 25 and I was 24. She was a low level manager where my younger (now older, remember that I am subtracting years at birthdays now.) sister worked. I was immediately attracted to her but was just about 9 months out of a failed relationship with a girlfriend that had lived with me. I was still at the stage of not trusting anyone and wasn't really interested in getting involved with anyone. However, the first night that I met her I was at least intrigued. She grew up in a rural environment and that really appealed a bit to me and the fact that she was such a pretty girl wasn't driving me away. We happened to see each other not too long after that and I was in a grouchy mood and made a horrible second impression. By all rights, I should have been out of the picture but destiny had something else in mind. It was many months after that when we saw each other again. More healing had taken place in life concerning the former girlfriend and we clicked from that point forward. 

After a year long courtship we decided to get married and that was nearly 17 years ago. During that 17 years, we had good times and bad but not really a great marriage. We are both somewhat temperamental and would spend a lot of time sniping and bickering and just not really a great marriage.

Okay, now for a little history about our lives. I was the 6th of 7 children. There were four boys and three girls. It was your basic Southern Baptist life with the exception that my father was a drinker that later evolved into alcoholism. Having girls in the house I constantly heard about waiting until marriage for sex and it affected me far into my adulthood. Not that I always abstained, but I did wait longer than normal to have intercourse and felt guilty about the things that I did with girls and later women. Fortunately I was able to overcome this guilt enough to have had many lovers and a varied sex life. Alcohol and drugs were the perfect antidote for Southern Baptist guilt.

There were many opportunities for sex when I was growing up and I fooled around a lot but didn't have intercourse. Finally, when I was 16 and truly in love, I had intercourse with a girlfriend. We had a good relationship but my temperamental side plus I cheated on her, which was something that was endemic with me, ruined it and all the blame is mine. It broke my heart and once things were severed, we were never able to get it back together. We tried many times but…

I immediately started dating a friend of ours. She was the second person I had sex with and we were on and off for a few years. She was a very sexual person and willing to experiment. One of my fantasies had been to share her or for that matter, most any girlfriend sexually. We did this many times and though there was always some jealousy in this, the eroticism of the event won and they were very great experiences. 

Since this relationship started when my first loving relationship broke up it was doomed from the start. I was still hung on my first girlfriend and hoping it might someday recover from the ending that had been inflicted on it. I never told this second girl that I loved her. My upbringing wouldn't allow me to tell that lie and as a matter of fact, I have never told many girls or women in my life that I loved them. 

We were somewhat steady over the next year with me occasionally dating my first love. Eventually, I knew that the relationship with this second girl was not going anywhere and started backing off. It was better for both of us though I knew that she had very real feelings for me. 

The time was the early 1980's (pre-aids) and it didn't take me long to figure out that I was good looking and charming enough to get sex without a girlfriend. That appealed to me since I was still pining over my first real love. My ego was very high and I would go to a bar and end up with a girl that night. We might make love that night and sometimes we would date again but it was obvious that I wasn't interested in a relationship and these girls would go by the wayside. It was normal for me to do this once or twice a week along with seeing the girl that was hung up on me and a couple of other friends that I would sleep with from time to time. 

This went on until about 1983. I was getting tired of it, tired of alcohol, tired of drugs etc. I met a young girl named Joanne; she was only 18 when I was 23. We hooked up and I was true, no cheating and we were in love. Her mother ended up kicking her out when she found out we were sleeping together and she moved in with me. It wasn't long before we got back into the drugs and I did share her sexually. She ended up cheating on me and we broke up. I didn't pine for her like I did my first love (hell, I was still pining for my first love.) I was just pissed. And all that brought me to the time that I met my wife.

Now, let me tell a little bit of history about my wife. Obviously, this is not firsthand knowledge but what I have cobbled together from her. She was born to a rural family that was also in the Southern Baptist thing. They moved around a bit, even living not 15-20 miles from me at one point. She ended up starting her teens in a rural community. 

Like a lot of girls, she gave sex away to try and gain love, acceptance and self esteem, at least in the beginning. She ended up having sex with her best friend's brother that was a few years older than her at the age of 14. She ended up sleeping with several boys and men in between then and the time I met her. That wasn't a problem with me because I liked the idea of a woman that wasn't afraid to have sex and had experience. I certainly had my share.

She will frequently say that sex was for her a part of wanting to be loved and accepted. Maybe not in those words but that is the impression she likes to give. I have my doubts about that. She is a very intelligent woman and she probably figured out pretty early that it wasn't really working. However, as most women wanted to be regarded as pure, it helped her to justify the boys and men that she had slept with. That is my opinion but who else's opinion can I give? It didn't matter to me and I was more than willing to let her go on with that myth. Until…

Anyway, we married and our sex life was okay but rarely great. When it was great, it was incredible. However, with two kids in the house, one of which was a teen that roamed the house all hours of the night, privacy was nearly nonexistent. Frankly, our sex life dwindled to probably 20 times or less a year. I decided that we needed to get the excitement as well as the frequency up about two years ago. As mentioned before, I had enjoyed sharing girlfriends earlier and my wife knowing this had nixed any thought of that early in our marriage. Okay then, I also liked to get her to fantasize and hear about her previous experiences. She would do so grudgingly and then treated me like a pervert any time I tried to lead things that way. Finally, I sent her what was a humorous writing that was to let her know that we needed some excitement and I would like her to tell me about her previous experiences and fantasize etc. She either didn't get the hint or deliberately shot it down. Sex then dwindled to less than 12 times a year. I was incredibly unhappy and even considered cheating. It had been a long time but I remembered how to cheat. Eventually I ruled that out and just increased my already busy fantasy and masturbating schedule. My fantasies would almost always include sharing her. In my mind I would imagine that I was watching her pussy being stretched by a young stud with a big cock. Anyway, that was 97% of my sex life, the fantasizing and masturbations that is, with us having sex about once a month or less. 

Then last year I decided to try and make one more try to get our sex life back. I wrote her a long letter telling her about how unhappy I was and why. It told her that we needed to be having sex more often. We were 44 and 37 and there would come a day when we wouldn't even be able to have sex anymore. Really in truly, we were wasting what we had by not engaging in sex. There wasn't a lot of humor in this missive. It was very straight forward. I told her that we needed to have sex more often. That fantasy was not evil, it was okay to talk about previous experience etc. was okay if it turned us on. 

Well, she read the letter and didn't act mad. A few days later, she agreed with me but let me know what was lacking in our relationship from her point of view (What an ass I am, I didn't even think to ask.) She needed me to act more like the marriage was a partnership and act more loving. I immediately changed and keep changing in that regard. 

Magically our sex life immediately became better. It was better in frequency and quality. Well, be careful what you wish for… She started to talk openly about her past experiences. It was some pretty hot stuff. Still she was holding back, I could sense it, she was again worried about what I might think of her and her previous sex life but it was still pretty good. We would drink and talk, play pool naked, watch videos and fuck like newlyweds. 

On about the second or third extended session of this, I asked if she had slept with anyone after we started dating, something I long had suspicions about. I had suspicions because of a couple of things she said in the past that made it sound like something happened. She had opportunity by seeing guys she had slept with and with her past, had periods when she had sex just for the enjoyment of it. She might not agree with that statement but I far from believe that she had sex only for acceptance and self worth in a lot of instances. 

She denied it once again as I expected she would. A little further in the conversation I asked her how long a guy that she had slept with in the year before we started to date had slept together. (Keep in mind we were drinking a lot when this conversation took place.) She said from March 1986 until 1988. Well, we started dating in February 1987, engaged in February 1988 and married in April 1988. Oops, I said, how can that be, we started dating in February 1987. To my mind, she then decided to give me a tidbit to throw me off the trail. She said that she thought she might have "fooled around with him" right after we started dating and they were drinking. They did work together and traveled together so opportunity was there. I let it go, but it really bothered me.

A few nights later I mentioned how great our sex had been and how much I appreciated her part in it. I told her though; I was disturbed by her "fooling around" with someone after we started dating. I suggested that she maybe had feelings for this guy and hadn't been sure about it not long after we started dating. That was something I could understand and was actually defensible. If she thought that this guy was really going to leave his wife and they might have something, it would have been a bit different. I gave her a way out. She could have said, yes, I really had feelings for Steve and wasn't sure etc. but no, she said she knew that was going nowhere. It was a night when they were out of town and had a lot of drinks. She admitted that they had slept together. I asked her if there had been any other times. She again denied that there had been. She asked if this was going to be a problem. I lied, and said, "No, not really." 

Now, as I have said, I enjoyed hearing about her previous sex life. I had shared girlfriends and fantasized about sharing her with other men. However, I am an ethical slut. If I shared her with another man it would be something designed to enhance our sex life and the guy would just be a lucky human dildo (Lucky Stiff?). If she were then to meet him or anyone else for that matter and have sex without me there, it would be cheating and I would be very upset if not furious. 

I didn't know what to do but knew that I was very upset and set out to investigate what I could about this. The internet let me know that the show where this cheating occurred was March 21-25 1987. We had started dating on February 20, 1987 so it was a full month. Hmm, didn't like that. I was really pissed off then. We had a lot of special times prior to her cheating that time. The memories of those special times were absolutely ruined, hopefully not forever, in my mind. 

Here is what I think about it. Since I had been a cheater before in my past I knew that once you cheat it is easy to cheat again. Cheaters Cheat. She had more opportunities than this occasion with this guy and she had spent a weekend away with friends when another old boyfriend was present. Cheaters Cheat, I think she probably cheated more than this one time. Did she only sleep with Steve the night that they got so drunk or was it repeated on this trip? I don't know, but that would make it worse. She gets no excuse for the drinking either. If it had been a stranger, it would have made more sense. But my wife is intelligent. If you are starting a new relationship with a new guy, you don't go to dinner with the guy that you used to sleep with. You certainly don't drink and certainly don't drink shooters. She wasn't a lush, she was a careful drinker. We had been dating a month and I am not talking about once a week dates. We were seeing each other four to six nights a week from the very beginning. Did she tell this guy about the new boyfriend that she was spending over half of her free time? I doubt it. Was she so excited about her new relationship that she had to talk about it a lot? I doubt it. Everything that she did that night leads me to believe that it was premeditated. She isn't stupid, so that is no excuse there. She cheated. Cheaters Cheat. Did she probably cheat more than this one time? Cheaters Cheat. How long she cheated I didn't know and still don't. Did she cheat when we were married, again I don't know. Would it help me to know? Probably not. I am sure that other people in her office knew that she cheated this one time at least so they probably have always thought me a fool. Hell, my sister worked there and probably knew that she had cheated. Damn, I feel stupid.

Anyway, I was shocked that this had happened. I never would have thought her a cheater. However, she slipped up enough not to be able to back out of it and admitted to at least one instance. I decided to look through old photo albums of hers to see if I could find any evidence of her cheating after this occasion. She was obviously too careful to leave any evidence if she did cheat anymore, in photo albums. I searched our house through everything she owned looking for evidence. The only thing I found was a note from a flower arrangement. It had her name on the envelope and Hyatt Regency Richmond Virginia. The note said, "I miss you, Gary." Yes, she has stayed in that hotel since we started dating and she worked with a guy named Gary. I just don't know. I probably never will know.

I did find her calendars from high school and saw that she would note when she slept with someone. However, as the years went on, they became less specific. If I could find her 1987 and 1988 calendars, I might know something. I can't imagine she would have thrown these away but she doesn't keep them at home. 

Well, what now? 

And now, our special correspondent, Vern Dipshit and the interview he had with Joel Dumbass on this subject.

V: Is there anyway you will know for sure if she cheated more than this event that you already know about? 

J: No, there is no way I will know if that was it or if there was more. That is something I could never be sure.

V: Would it help matters if you knew for sure? 

J: If I knew for sure that she didn't cheat anymore than this one time it would probably help but again I would never know for sure. If she did cheat more than this one time, it would probably hurt my feelings more. So, no, there is no help for me there at all.

V: Has it changed how you see your wife?

J: Yes, in more than one way and I am not prepared to give all the ways yet. It has totally squashed a lot of the conceptions that I had of her. Many of which she planted there. She made it seem like she had sex as a teen and as a young woman as a way to gain acceptance, feel better about herself and make boys/men like her. But now, no, I don't think that she had sex with guys just to improve her self image and gain acceptance but it probably did make her feel good and that was probably the point and the truth of it. I was chasing her hot and heavy when this occasion occurred. She should have felt pretty good about herself at least on an emotional level. She did mention that this guy was a good lover. He must have been damn good for her to risk what we had started. Another misconception that she planted was that she just wanted to be loved. Well, I was doing that and she spat at it by her actions. And the cheating, that is something that I never knew about her. I am convinced that I couldn't have been the first guy she cheated. She is a woman and as a young woman and teenager, there had to have been plenty of opportunities. I don't think she would have done it at 26 if she hadn't done it at a younger age.




The Problem



I am a 50 year old engineer for an aerospace firm located in one of the Northern plains states. My name is Chuck Everett. Due to various physical problems, including arthritis, I can't get out to exercise much. As such I am not physically trim and fit. Face it, I'm a bit pudgy and love to cook. I lost my wife of thirty years to cancer five years ago. Our one child has moved to the West coast and might as well live on the moon for all I hear from her.

I work with a team of others designing CMGs, Constant Momentum Gyros, used to alter the attitude (position) of a satellite in orbit. Most of our work is for NASA/JPL, but some of it is for various intelligence agencies.

My department has its share of "Dilbert type" engineers. In all honesty I probably fit into that category. Although I know my co-workers at a surface level, I can't claim to be close friends with any of them. At least I couldn't have claimed that up until about two months ago. 

I live about forty miles from my place of work. I prefer to live out "in the boonies". I don't like to have close neighbors. A few weeks ago there was a shutdown period for our plant. It has been determined, by our bean counters, that is a waste of money to have anyone work from Christmas eve to the day after New Years day. So, the plant was shut down to save on heating, lighting, and salaries.

It was Christmas eve, and I was looking at spending yet another holiday season alone. There had been a bit of an extended lunch hour at work and people had set up a de-facto dish to pass meal. It had all tasted very good. About three hours after the meal, I became very ill. I had a brutal headache, my muscles ached, and I had begun to run a fever. Now, I almost never run a fever but the company nurse indicated I was running a 101 degree fever and should not drive. She also told me that I should leave work ASAP to prevent passing on whatever I might be carrying. Talk about a "bummer". I was sick, but not at home, and didn't have clothes or such to stay in town.

As I went back to my cubicle and was shutting down my computer and putting files away when Carol walked in. Carol is a technician who builds up my designs and does testing on them to verify that I haven't produced "a lemon". She took one look at me and started to grill me about what was wrong. Carol wasn't Playboy centerfold material. In fact she was almost as heavy as I was. 

I told Carol what the Nurse had said and the bind that I was in. After a few moments of thought she made a suggestion. "I think I can solve your problem. If you think you can ride for an hour, I can drive you home and watch after you for the next couple of days. If you don't think you can ride for an hour I can drive you to my place, which is about fifteen minutes from here. What do you say?"

At that point I had to ask her a question: "Aren't you going to ruin your holiday by looking after me? After all, you will be going home to someone, won't you?"

Carol looked down at the floor and half mumbled, "No, there is nobody else at my place and I don't have any pets. My folks live on the East coast and haven't been on speaking terms with me since I joined the Navy to learn to be an electronics technician. I'm alone."

I can't tell you why I did, but I told her I would love to have her drive me home; if she didn't really mind. Ten minutes later we were walking out to my car.

I guess the drive was uneventful. With my fever I wasn't overly observant or rational. When, at last, she pulled my car into the driveway she got out and came around to the passenger side and helped me out and into the house. 

Now, I don't need to tell you that bachelors aren't always the neatest people. I know I wasn't. The house wasn't a disaster, but it wasn't neat either. By this time I needed the bathroom very badly, but was extremely wobbly. Carol helped me into the bathroom and then went to make up a pot of tea and find something that we could both eat, even though I wasn't really hungry.

By the time I finished on the seat I was having chills. I opened the door and told Carol that I was going to take a hot bath and to go ahead and eat without me. I drew the water, climbed into the tub and passed out in the hot water. When I woke up, I was in my bed. Carol was sitting in the room watching me. 

"How did I get here?"

"You gave me quite a start the other night. After you had been in the tub for about half an hour I went to the door to see if you had run into problems. There was no answer. You were in the tub and had obviously passed out. I couldn't wake you s I rigged up a rope harness to help get you out of the tub and onto a large towel. I dried you off and dragged you, on the towel, into your bedroom. The hard part was getting you into the bed. I thought you probably should have had a trip to the hospital emergency room, but that wasn't likely going to happen due to the weather. For the last few miles when we were driving here we had been getting freezing rain. It turned to sleet, and when I looked out I knew that the chances of getting an ambulance were just about nil. I've been keeping watch over you for the last thirty-six hours. Last night your fever broke and I suspect that you are over whatever it was that hit you."

"You mean I've been out for a day and a half?"

"Yup!"

"I need to go to the bathroom and then would like to have some coffee and food. I feel a bit strange getting out of bed, and getting into a robe with you here in the room."

With a mischievous smile Carol said: "I can leave if you would prefer, Chuck; but remember you were naked when I took you out of the tub and still naked when I put you into the bed. It's not as if I haven't seen all of you."

'O.K. I'll dispense with the robe then." I got out of bed and realized I was still a bit wobbly on my feet. Carol came over and put my right arm over her shoulder and guided me to the bathroom. She supervised my sitting down on the toilet so that I wouldn't fall and crack my head on the tile.

While sitting on the toilet I talked to her. "I don't know how to thank you Carol! You have been a real friend in a time of great need. I'm sorry that I've ruined your holidays. You shouldn't have to keep track of a sick co-worker. How can I repay you for your kindness?"

Carol's response was painful for me to hear. "Chuck, I'm know I'm not pretty so I don't get out on dates very often. I have no pets and no family I can turn to. I would have been alone for this week trying to find something to keep my mind off being alone. In many ways your problem has helped me out of a bummer of a week."

The look of pain on her face was heart rending. I don't think I have seen a look that sad, except on some mornings when I look in the mirror.

"I know how you feel, Carol. I'm alone too. You can see that this house, at one time, held a family. Since my wife's death and my daughter's departure to the West coast I have had nobody around either. My daughter irrationally blames me for my wife's death. She won't speak to me anymore. You are a bright light in what would have been a very somber week. You see, this time period had been special to my wife and I. What was special became bleak and sad after her death. Thank you for being here." 

I don't know what made me do it, but I took her hand and kissed it (since it was the only part of her that was in kissing range). She broke down in tears. I cleaned myself, flushed the toilet, took her in my arms and simply held her while she cried. I wasn't sure if it was due to true sadness or from lack of sleep keeping watch over me. After several minutes she calmed down. By this time I felt much much better. My balance had returned.

"I'm going to get some clothes on and make breakfast, what do you like for breakfast Carol?"

"I don't want to put you to any trouble, I'll have whatever you are having."

"I feel like French toast. Is that o.k. with you?"

"Absolutely! that's one of my all time favorites. How about I make the breakfast while you get dressed?"

I couldn't argue with that suggestion, so I went back to the bathroom to shave and shower and to my bedroom to put on sweat pants, sweat shirt and bedroom slippers. The first pieces of French toast were being taken from the frying pan as I entered the kitchen.

"Sit down, Chuck, and you can start in on the toast."

"No way, Carol, we'll put them on a plate in the oven to keep them warm so that we can eat together. I have missed good conversation during meals for quite a while now. Beside that, you are doing all the work so far. I'll make some good coffee while you finish cooking the French toast and bacon."

And so it went. At last we sat at the table, said grace, and started eating. I was famished! As we progressed through breakfast I asked Carol how she ended up unmarried and alone.

Her story was one that would be familiar to many people. She had married a person who she thought was a good person. After just a few months of marriage she had fully discovered that "Mr. Right" was in fact "Mr. Wrong". He used illegal drugs, beat her, and proved himself a womanizer. She divorced him since it was clear that he wasn't interested in cleaning up his act. That experience had led her to isolate herself so that she wouldn't be hurt again.

We both discussed what things we liked and disliked in terms of entertainment, food, books, and any other topic we could think of. It was amazing how much we were alike.

When we finished breakfast I cleared the dishes from the table and washed them. Carol stood there with a strange expression on her face.

"What's wrong?", I asked.

"I've never seen a man get up and do the dishes before! Neither my father, nor my ex-husband would do any household work. How long have you been doing dishes?"

"My father insisted that I wash, or dry, dishes every night after a meal. If I washed, he dried; if he washed, I dried. He said it was only fair to help my mom."

Carol's expression didn't change much, but it was obvious that she was deep in thought.

We listened to the morning news and heard the public service announcement that my county was still under a state of emergency. No private excursions by car would be allowed. If there was a medical, heating, or lack of food emergency we were to call 911 and we would be put on a list to be visited by someone driving an appropriate vehicle. We were effectively snowed in.

I told Carol that it was her turn to get cleaned up and get some sleep. I went to my wife's closet and got out a soft flannel nightgown, terrycloth robe, and fleece slippers. I told her that she could use my daughter's old room because it had a lock on the inside of the door. I thought that it would make her feel safer to know that there would be no chance of a visitor during her sleep.

Within half an hour she had showered, gotten into bed, and dropped off to sleep.

While she slept I went back to the kitchen and decided to do some cooking. I made a pan of lasagne and set it aside for dinner. As you probably know, lasagne is always better after the second or third re-heating. Then I made a fruitcake. I use my own recipe for fruitcake, it is similar to the Eagle brand sweetened condensed milk recipe but in stead of "candied fruit" it uses raisins and a full cup to cup and a half of whole walnuts are added to the mix. The cake took its normal hour to cook and came out beautifully. I checked my rum supply and found that I had enough to make a good eggnog. I waited to make the eggnog until we would be ready to drink it. Then I lay down for a nap.

It was early evening when I woke up. I went to the kitchen and started re-heating the lasagne. I was part way through the process when Carol came into the room wearing my wife's robe.

"So, sleeping beauty has awoken" I said with a smile.

Carol started to look unhappy.

"Carol, I mean it. You are a lot like my wife used to be. She had been brought up on a working farm and had a solid frame, just like you do; and she was about your build as you can tell from the nightgown and robe. I think you are very pretty."

The look on her face, upon hearing this, was inscrutable. It looked like she was trying to organize her thoughts. I broke the silence; "I'm heating up a pan of lasagne, and am about to make garlic bread. Are you hungry.

She said yes and grinned.

I got busy on the garlic bread and half an hour later we were at the table enjoying a good meal. I told her that I had made a fruitcake. She looked like she wasn't overly interested in it.

"Don't you like fruitcake, Carol?"

"Not really, it is usually sickeningly sweet. I can't stand those candied fruits."

It was my turn to grin. She wanted to know what my grin was about so I told her about my recipe stressing the fact that I hated candied fruit. We both got a bit of a laugh about that. 

We finished dinner and I again did the dishes. This time, however, Carol dried while I washed. When we were done we retired to the living room. I've never been much of a t.v. addict, but I love good music. I cleared off the couch, and put on one of my favorite pieces of music; Rachmaninoff's second piano concerto. As she heard the opening bars of the music Carol immediately perked up and said: "I love this piece of music. The Romantic and Neo-Romantic composers are my favorites."

I was very surprised. All I could say was: "me too".

I sat down on one end of the couch leaned my head back and started to "get into" the music. About halfway through the first movement I felt a head leaning on my shoulder and a warm body up against my side. I lowered my arm around her shoulder and gently hugged her. We stayed that way until the end of the piece.

With great trepidation, I leaned down and kissed her cheek. Her response was all I could have hoped for. She eagerly received the kiss. We sat there in silence for the better part of half an hour. We didn't rush into any action, we just enjoyed moment. At last I asked Carol if she would like some fruitcake and either coffee or eggnog. At the mention of eggnog her face lit up. "I haven't had eggnog in years. My favorite is heavy on the nutmeg and laced with a moderate amount of dark rum. Do you have any?"

"Yes, I do. I checked earlier and found that I still had an unopened bottle I bought about five years ago. It should still be just fine."

I went to the kitchen and started to make the eggnog. When I returned to the living room I went over to the fireplace, opened up the flue, place dry wood on the andirons, and dropped an igniter block on the wood. I hate messing with kindling and have found that there are some nice paraffin and sawdust blocks that will start a fire quite nicely. The fire took off qickly since the wood was quite dry. I put the fruitcake and eggnog on the coffee table and sat back down on the couch, this time sitting right next to Carol.

We both ate and sipped our eggnog in silence.

"That was excellent fruitcake! I like the way your recipe tastes. The eggnog was good too, you didn't make it overly strong."

I grinned and commented: "I don't want to have you think I'm trying to get you drunk! That is not my intention. I just love your company!"

"Me, too!"

There was a period of awkward silence. Apparently we both noticed that the other was hesitant about something. I broke the silence; "I hope I don't get slapped for this." and kissed her on the lips. It was a long and lingering Kiss. It was also received and returned with much ardor. We spent the next, I don't know how long, just kissing and holding each other. I shouldn't admit it but I started to cry. Carol didn't comment on it since she also was crying. We fell asleep on the couch in each others embrace.

In the middle of the night I awoke to find that Carol was gently caressing and fondling my balls. That got my attention right away! In response I gently started to fondle her breasts. I was in ecstasy! We spent, I don't know how long, just doing some heavy petting. It had been several years since someone had played with me like that. It appeared that the same was true for Carol. After a while, we got up, went to my bed and fell asleep embracing each other. 

When I awoke the next morning I smelled coffee and pancakes! I got up and went into the kitchen. Carol had made corn pancakes! (For those of you who have never had them you make normal pancake batter and then add a cup of thawed frozen corn to it. When cooked up it is sort of like a mix between corn fritters and pancakes.) Carol had a broad smile on her face, I suspect that it matched mine.

"You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble, Carol. After all the host is supposed to serve the guest, not the other way around." I hugged her.

I grinned and said that even though this was my favorite breakfast that it was a toss-up whether I wanted to eat or wanted to hug her. She smiled and led me to a chair at the table. We had a wonderful meal, and we did the dishes together. 

During the meal I asked her if she was involved with a church. She indicated that she had been brought up as Presbyterian, but then had become an American Baptist. I indicated that I had been brought up as an American Baptist. 

Carol stepped back for a moment and looked at me seriously. "Chuck, you have given me a gift that you may not realize. I have needed to be shown affection for years now. You have treated me with respect, you haven't tried to push yourself on me. These are things I could only dream of up until yesterday. I'm afraid that I am falling for you, and falling hard."

"Carol, you have no idea how hard I have fallen for you. You have showed me kindness, gone out of your way to make me feel comfortable. I've known you for several years now in terms of a work relationship. What I am feeling now is much more than that. We need to find out what things we really like and dislike. Are you open to a free ranging discussion, no holds barred, to find out if we are as compatible as we seem?"

She looked at me in a very strange way. It was as if she were trying to determine where this might be going. After a moment or two she said "yes, that sounds good". "Since I suggested it, why don't you ask the first question?"

"O.k. Chuck, since one of the big friction areas that couples face is finances; how would you describe your financial goals and your current financial state."

"You're right, many marriages fail due to the fallout from bad financial management. I started out being a spendthrift, but it only took me a year out of school to realize that approach was a dead end. I cut up my credit cards and brought my spending under control. I started out using the "Money Map" from the Crown Financial group and have done rather well at it. Currently I am returning about 15% of my gross income to the Lord, and saving most of the rest. This house is paid for, I have no other debts, and have about three hundred thousand dollars in long term stable securities. Unfortunately, two hundred thousand dollars is from my wife's life insurance. Financially I consider myself to be blessed." She looked a bit shaken when I indicated what I had in savings. 'How about you, Carol, how do you see finance?"

"Well, I have no where near what you have in the bank. My savings are about fifteen thousand dollars. I tithe to my church and give a little extra to some of my favorite charities. I also got rid of my credit cards and now only use a charge card. I guess it is time for you to ask a question."

"Well, here goes nothing, with regard to sex do you consider yourself straight laced, a little kinky, or what? I know that this is a loaded question, but it also can be at the root of marital discord. I should tell you before you answer that I had a vasectomy many years ago and cannot father any more children unless I have surgery. I'm not sure at my age that I have the strength to raise another child."




The Problem



"O.K. Chuck, here it goes. I tend to have several fetishes. I like oral sex, both giving it and receiving it. I have always had a desire to at least try using a strap-on on a guy. I like very mild bdsm, like being tied down and allowing someone to pleasure me as they wish. I think I would also like to tie someone down and drive them up the wall with pleasure. I like reading and writing erotic stories like those found on Literotica. I realize that this is not necessarily society's norm, but that is where I am."

At this point I was grinning. "With the exception of the strap-on your description describes me to a tee! My wife's supply of toys is in a box in the closet. Follow me, a quick review of the contents of that box will tell you a lot."

We went to my bedroom and I brought a large locked box from the closet. I took a key from my top dresser drawer, unlocked the box and turned out its contents onto the bed. What fell out were several different dildos, some with and some without vibrators. A hand held massager, soft comfortable restraints for arms and legs, blindfolds, a strap-on harness, short pieces of soft rope and miscellaneous other "equipment".

"I'm glad to see you don't have any nipple clips, floggers or whips in there. I have never equated pain with pleasure. You haven't ever gotten into group sex have you?"

"No, Carol. Group sex would mean breaking my marriage vows. When it says "forsaking all others" that is what is meant. My wife was more than enough woman for me to handle. How about you?"

"I was forced into group sex once by my ex husband. It wasn't my choice and was one of the things that led me to divorce him. O.K, Chuck, it's your turn to ask a question."

"This is going to sound like a pretty lame question, but it is an important one. What time do you like to go to bed, and what time do you like to get up?"

"My bed time is usually between ten and eleven p.m. I prefer to get up at about eight, but on work days I have to get up at six." 

"It is the same for me. Can you think of any areas that we haven't covered?"

"Yes, do you 'go out with the boys' or go out drinking on a regular basis?"

"Nope, similarly do you 'go out with the girls' or go out drinking on a regular basis?"

"Nope."

Based upon your answers I think I have made up my mind. Wait a minute, I need to get something."

With that I went to my dresser and opened up the small cedar box where I keep small valuables. In this case the valuable was my wife's diamond engagement ring." I turned and hugged Carol. She returned the hug with much ardor.

"Carol, I know I am pushing things too fast; but I can already see that we are very compatible people. Now, I can understand if you think this is too pushy, but....." At that point I held out the ring and said, "I want to marry you. I don't want this to end."

She broke into tears, took the ring, placed it on her left ring finger, hugged me hard enough to almost take my breath away, and said "Yes!". We went into the living room, I started another fire, and we sat on the couch hugging each other while watching the flames. 

I broke the silence. "Carol, I don't want to do anything that will damage this new relationship. I enjoy hugging and petting as much as you seem to. But, as a Christian I can't have intercourse with you until we are married. Can you live with that?"

"Absolutely, I was trying to find a way to say the same thing to you. We can sleep together and hug. We can do some really heavy petting, but I also need to wait."

"As soon as the state of emergency is lifted, let's go into town and get a marriage license. I think we will have a three day wait before we can get married. One of my best friends is my pastor, I know we can get him to perform the ceremony. Is that pushing too fast?"

"No! But it's going to be a long few days!"

We continued to make out on the couch. We were each getting more and more sexually excited. Carol spoke up first: "We can't have intercourse until after we're married but I can still make you feel good. Let's go into the bedroom." 

I didn't need a second invitation. We got to the bedroom and she started to undress me. Not wanting to be passive I also started to undress her. My hands were shaking due to excitement. Her hands seemed to have the same problem. When we were stripped we hugged and then entered the bathroom to take a joint shower. I got the water nice an warm and we stepped into the stream of water. 

By mutual agreement we each washed the other. I started by washing her. I spent extra time on her breasts, and the area from her clit all the way around to her ass. Instead of a washcloth I used my hands to rub the soap on her skin. By the time I was done she could see that I already had a fierce erection. She took the soap and repeated the ritual for me. I can't even begin to tell you how good it felt to have someone else's hands wash my balls and cock. It was all I could do to keep from blowing my load as she washed me. At last we were done, got out of the shower and dried each other off. 

We returned to my bed and brought some soft towels with us. I asked her to lay back on the bed with her legs hanging off the edge of the bed. When she was so positioned I kissed her lips and then slowly moved down her body kissing as I went. I spent extra time on each of her beautiful boobs. When I reached her pubic region I stopped kissing and started kissing again on her feet. I have no idea how long it took me, but I eventually ended up at her pussy lips. I kissed them and then started to suck and lick them. The moaning that she was making was all the encouragement I needed. I slid one and then two fingers into her vagina moving them in and out such that her moans increased. As the moaning stabilized my lips went back to kissing her labia. I teased her as long as I could but eventually she had a massive orgasm. It was all I could do to hold on and lick her clit as she bucked and shook. 

I asked her, "Was that o.k.?" All I got for an answer, at that point, was a wide grin. After catching her breath she told me to get in the same position. I did. The first thing she did was to take one of the soft pieces of cord from the "toy box" and gently pull my balls away from my body. She was very gentle. Once my balls were partly stretched she tied the cord just above the balls so that they couldn't pull up into my abdomen. That done she took a silk scarf that had been in the "toy box" and proceeded to tickle my balls and penis with it. It was deliciously maddening. Just when I felt that I couldn't handle any more I felt her mouth cover one of my balls, gently tugging on it. She alternated between my balls and kissing the end of my cock. I hadn't felt this good in years. When I had about all I could take she started giving me a hand job. She played with my balls with one hand and stroked my cock with the other. It wasn't long before I had an explosive orgasm. It seemed to go on and on. 

We needed to shower again, and then we lay down and dozed off in each other embrace.

The next day the weather cleared up a bit so that the state of emergency was lifted. When we got our marriage license we were told that the delay time had been reduced to twenty-four hours. I called my pastor and made arrangements for us to meet the following day at noon to tie the knot. A retired husband and wife from our church agreed to be the witnesses. 

I called my boss and told him that I needed to take my two weeks vacation due to a significant event and that Carol would also need to have that time off.

That evening I asked Carol if she had a favorite place for a honeymoon. I could see that she hadn't even considered that little detail. I told her that I had set us up for a two week vacation. She indicated that any place that wasn't freezing would be just fine with her. Without her knowing it I called a local tourist agent, who belonged to our church, and arranged a deluxe trip to one of the smaller Hawaiian Islands so that we would be away from the tourist crush. 

I kept praying that Carol wouldn't change her mind. Later on I found out that she was making the same wish. 

The following morning I called my bank and told them that I needed to withdraw twenty thousand dollars from my savings and put it into my checking account so that I could draw upon it with my debit card.

The hour arrived and Carol and I became husband and wife. I had already packed my clothes. We went to one of the nicer boutiques in town and purchased an entire spring/summer wardrobe for Carol. We also hit our local Wal-Mart and picked up some decent luggage for her. She still didn't know where we were going.

At last we drove to the St. Paul/Minneapolis airport and boarded a flight that would take us to the islands. When Carol realized that we were going to Hawaii she squeezed my arm so hard I thought she might break my arm , well not really but it was quite a squeeze.

The story of that trip will have to be told at some future date since I'm still recovering from the most wonderful vacation I have ever had.