Diary of a New Wife-Chapter One

Diary of a New Wife – Chapter One


We’d been married for three years before my husband finally admitted that he wasn’t all that thrilled with our sex life. Of course, he was sure I’d be terribly hurt, and he kept apologizing. But I stopped him and made the same sort of admission. I knew I wanted a lot more than I was getting. Drake looked completely flabbergasted when I said that. “But you always have a good time,” he said. “You have orgasms.”
“Not always, honey. Not always.”
He stared at me. “So what am I doing wrong?”
I thought it about for a several moments. “It isn’t about being wrong,” I said. “Just different.”
“Different how?”
“First you tell me something. Have you been with anyone else since we got married?”
“No,” he said firmly, and I believed him. “But . . .”
“But what?”
“I do some other things.”
“Such as,” I asked, feeling a little temper rising.
“Nothing like cheating. Just fantasizing, you know, with magazines, some films, like that.”
“You mean pictures of naked women, and porn movies.”
“Like that, yeah.” He was squirming a little.
“And what makes those women in the magazines and movies so special?”
“They’re not,” he said quickly. “I mean, they’re not special like you are. It’s just that you wouldn’t ever want to be . . . um . . . act like they do, I mean do certain kinds of things.”
“What exactly?”
He turned slightly red in the face. “I don’t think we should discuss that.”
“Why, how kinky is it?” I asked him point blank and he just stared at me.
He cleared his throat. “I think you’d find some things offensive, I mean they’re not very ladylike, you know.”
I had to laugh. He was thoroughly puzzled. “Drake. You treat me like some sort of stuck-up Victorian lady who barely likes sex, as if I’d go all to pieces if you said the “fuck” in front of me.”
He looked as if I’d slapped him. “I never thought you were stuck-up at all, that’s ridiculous. I just wanted to treat you right and I thought, well, the things that turn me on aren’t what nice girls do.”
“Isn’t that a little old-fashioned? Sounds like my mother talking. We ‘girls’ can do whatever turns us on, too, you know. But I never talked to you about it because I was so worried you’d think I was not the woman you thought you married. You know, Drake, I wasn’t a virgin before I met you, and I told you so.”
“Well, of course. I mean we were both in our twenties. It would be silly to expect that you hadn’t been with anyone.”
“But you never asked.”
“I didn’t really want to know,” he replied.
“Then I may as well tell you the whole story of my college days, and grad school, too. But first I want you to tell me what it is that really turns you on, what makes you hot and makes your dick hard?”
He blinked several times, since I rarely talked that way. “I . . . that is . . . no, I can’t.”
It took almost half an hour to convince my dear husband to come clean about his particular inclinations. And he wasn’t all that specific, but what I began to realize is that Drake wanted to be a sexually dominant male, and he was holding back those needs because he thought it wasn’t right to behave that way toward his wife.
I decided it was time to let him off the hook a little. “You know, honey, it’s the same old story. Women never know quite what to be. Is it true that you want us to be whores in the bedroom and lacy, frilly homemakers the rest of the time? Or if we act like sluts in the bedroom, do you think less of us?”
“No,” he said, “it isn’t a bad thing if you enjoy yourself. I want you to enjoy yourself. I didn’t realize you weren’t.”
“I wasn’t all that honest about it, so what I’m going to tell you might come as a shock, but I’ll take that chance. But promise me one thing.”
“Before I start, I want you to go and get some of those magazines and videos of yours and bring them in here from wherever you’ve been hiding them. I won’t look at them yet, but I will afterward.”
He didn’t look pleased, or willing, but he went out to the garage and after several minutes came back with a paper bag and put in on the coffee table.
“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I masturbate every day. . . in the shower, in the bedroom, the living room, even the laundry room. I even sometimes do it at my desk at work with my office door closed.”
His eyes widened.
“And some days more than once if it’s a day we haven’t made love. But here’s the thing, Drake. Mostly I’m not fantasizing about you. And I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings. But mostly I replay some other experiences, and imagine ones I’d like to have. Now I told you I’d had lovers.