Beginning -- His version
When I first saw her it was love and lust at first site. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen and I wanted her so bad. I pursued her, even to the point that when I asked her to go steady she told me she was seeing this other guy—and she had to see him one last time before she would go steady for me. If that was what it took to get her, then that was what I was willing to do.
In conversations on dates she revealed that she hated clothes, and wished everyone could run around nude. I had found my perfect mate, I thought, because I did know after sneaking out my Dad’s Playboys that I wanted a beautiful woman like the ones in the centerfold who didn’t mind being naked! And she was on that level.
We dated for years during high school and had no had other sexual partners. I was her first and we did it in the front seat of my Dad’s car while some friends of ours were making out in the back seat.
We broke up eventually, only for a couple of weeks, and I vividly recall walking into a dance late, catching a glimpse of her back as she walked out the door to leave (early) with another guy. It was obvious they were going to parking and making out—and since she and I were fucking I was absolutely racked with the painful idea of her fucking someone else, just to see what someone else would be like, and I immediately pursued her and got her back. She had not fucked him—as she said, girls did not do such things on first dates in those days. We married just out of high school.
I was insecure about my hold on her, and worried that at some point some other guy might take her away from me. My gut told me that. Years later she would tell me, “Well honestly I just married you to get out of a bad situation at home. I didn’t love you then. But I love you now.” Another time she told me, “I thought I would stay with you until someone better came along—but they never did, and now I love you.” But I’m getting ahead of our story.
My remedy for my insecurities was to be jealous, critical of anything she wore even remotely revealing, and going to great pains to insure that she wasn’t alone with other men and therefore able to become intimate with them and drift away. Of course as a beautiful woman she fought it, as she had always been a terrible flirt and loved teasing.
She did dress modestly though. I was just young and stupid—especially in getting along with the opposite sex.
We did not have a lot of sexual experience, but that didn’t mean we were not sexually curious. With me taking the lead we got into me taking photos of her, eventually getting to the point she would let me photograph her nude with an self-developing camera and not throw the photos away immediately.
We would fuck and video ourselves, we would try to make our own pornos with her in a wig and me in different clothes for different scenes, I would tie her up and fuck her, and in my own mind thought this was making up for our lack of other partners. I went so far as to blindfold her, using some pillows, and with a realistic dildo construct a makeshift dummy in the floor and have her ride it with the dildo inside her while she sucked my cock.
I was searching to unlock the place that was hiding the young girl who told me she hated clothes back in high school. I tried having her read Penthouse letters, but she would usually find one that turned her off, and she would stop reading and get angry, so I took to photocopying the ones that turned me on, assuming they would turn her on. Later I learned that some of the anger she expressed at me was anger at herself for being aroused by it. But understanding that would come much later too.
I though it was a safe way to live out my sexual fantasies and desires. I wanted her to open up sexually—I felt there was a sexy, slutty side she was holding in that I desperately wanted to see her let out. But with me alone.
Through all this I didn’t see that she was feeling guilt, insecurity of her own, and going through her own mental headgames which would later be diagnosed as chronic depression. At the time she was blaming me for all the bad feelings she had, and I couldn’t see it. A lot of the anger she felt was directed at me for my actions – by the role playing, the toys, the stories, I was the force behind the cause of the arousal—then the guilt.
We later learned what she was doing is called “passive aggression.” Every new sexual thing we tried would get her pussy pouring. But once she realized her body had revealed she was turned on to the idea , she would turn off mentally. Especially if I liked the idea.
With that as background I saw a talk show about women’s fantasies, which were described as a triad being a woman’s number one fantasy. So I asked her. She said yes. And instantly I had a new theme for our role playing and pornos to buy.
Our business was struggling, we were both working in it and had a huge stress load otherwise, and in her passive aggression mode she thought, “Well if that’s what he wants this is what he will get.” She was nearing 30, and had remarked that I had robbed her of her dating life by only dating her during high school and marrying so soon.
So she was angry, not really knowing why, regretting marrying so young, not having other partners--and she was ripe to get picked. And yeah, she did. But that is for another post.