I wish I could say that I apologized to Dan, or felt guilty, or worried about his feelings, but I really didn’t. For the rest of the vacation, Dan was quiet and docile—very unlike him. All I could think about was fucking Benny as much as possible. I didn’t invite Dan to watch again, but he always knew where I was going.
I found myself experiencing strange new emotions for Dan, even hostile ones. I started to think of him as pathetic. One day I came into the bathroom while he was in the shower and, seeing his penis so small and withdrawn, thought to myself, “Why did you marry a man with such a tiny cock?” Another time, I lay in bed, fingering my sore pussy, thinking it could use a little more fucking. Then I remembered I was with Dan, and I probably wouldn’t even feel his skinny five-incher if he pushed it in as hard as he could, not with Benny stretching and filling me every day. Once Dan did try to fuck me, and I felt next to nothing. His small penis spurted quickly, as if it realized its hopeless task.
I did walk the beaches with Benny and Dan a couple more times. How people stared! Here we were, a living cliché. Me in the middle, with my small-dicked white husband on one side and this black man with a massive swinging penis on the other. A few people even tried to take pictures with us in the background. Perhaps even more intense were the times Benny and I walked the beaches alone. Girls would give me jealous glances. I could feel the guys stare at my fully-tanned body with intense lust, then glance at Benny’s cock and look away, shy and embarrassed. It felt so right that I would be out with a huge fucker of a man who deserved my body sexually and was in no way intimidated by the prospect of pleasing my voracious pussy. But I was married, and vacations don’t last forever.
After Dan and I got home from that trip, we lived almost like brother and sister—like brother and sister who weren’t that fond of each other. I could feel us drifting. I wasn’t sorry for what I had done; instead I felt sexually entitled. That anger and entitlement didn’t mix well with Dan’s sentiments. I had to wonder: “How will my marriage survive this?” Or … “Should my marriage survive this?” I couldn’t feel much of anything. All I could think about were these newfound needs my pussy had discovered, awakened by Eddie but brought to a turning point by Benny. I didn’t think I could ever be satisfied by my husband again. For the first time, that previously unthinkable word, divorce, poked its way into my head.
I started fucking some guy on the side. The first time I got a big cock inside me again, it felt terrific. It was a relief to give into the sensations. But after the sex, things felt weird … hollow … bad.
Dan moved out a few days after. He packed a duffle bag, left a note with the hotel he was staying in. The note was short and factual, devoid of emotion. I got fucked again that night. After I came home, I ate a box of ice cream sandwiches, and cried my eyes out.
A couple weeks later, I found myself sitting on Cheryl’s back porch. A part of me was secretly hoping Eddie was around, that I would get a little something. My heart sank when Cheryl said Eddie was out of town, or more accurately, my pussy pouted. What was I doing here anyway? But I couldn’t talk to a therapist about this. Cheryl’s unusual views on this topic seemed to make more bizarre sense than a therapist’s anyway.
“Aww girl … buck up!” Cheryl said with that bubbly sisterhood vibe that immediately made me wish I hadn’t come over.
“Dan moved out.”
“Oh …. I’m sorry.” She was silent, then: “Girl, you gotta get that boy back!”
“I know, but ….”
One good thing about Cheryl: she wasn’t going to give me the whole, “What about your daughter?” routine. I felt torn up enough already, even with her away at school.
“It’s like this,” Cheryl said. “Dan is a good husband and father. You don’t want to let that go.”
“Yeah ….”
“Remember what I told you, that dirty little secret of female sexuality,” said Cheryl.
“What’s that?”
“Women need great sex and great love. There are very few men in this world who can provide both … and the best male lovers are rarely monogamous. Women fight over their prowess. Then we crank out a kid or two and settle for less sexually, or hope that being in love with someone will be enough, and sometimes it is, for a while … but it can grow stale. Then we cheat on our husbands and feel ashamed.
“I mean, look at me,” Cheryl continued. “Eddie is an amazing fuck, as you know ….” Cheryl stopped for a moment and smiled. “But I have no idea how I could raise a family with him. It really makes me nervous; that big dick of his could knock me up anytime.” We both laughed, and I flushed, thinking of Eddie pounding into her.
“You have the opposite problem,” Cheryl said. “You have great love, but your sex life has flatlined. Dan was all you needed at first, but now …” Cheryl paused, perhaps to gauge my feelings, “his sexual shortcomings have become obvious to you.”
I could only nod.
“He can make love to you, but he can’t FUCK. And right now, your beautiful womanly body is in its sexual prime, and sometimes it needs to be FUCKED—by a man who is dominant enough to rip the come out of your body … someone you can lose yourself to.”
Her words alone were making me squirmy and hot. But then she took the lust back out of me: “You feel so little attraction to Dan that you are letting him drift away. But underneath that, you love him. Your life without him feels empty; your life with him feels compromised.”
Cheryl had nailed it again … what a pain she was. “Hey girlie, it could be worse,” she continued. “A lot of women don’t get good lovin’ or good pushin’. At least we each have one of the two.”
“But I want both!” I said. “And besides, I think you’re better off. Without great sex, real romantic love is so … difficult. You can always get your emotional needs met elsewhere.”
“Yes …” said Cheryl. “But there are plenty of loveless marriages. Sex fades too. Eventually, Eddie would become a distant partner. If we had kids, I’d be doing most of the work. Over time, his sexual appeal would fade as I became turned off by his indifference or angered by his cheating. He’s not someone I would marry. Dan would die for you. I’d give anything to have a man like that in my life!”
I felt the rightness of what Cheryl was saying. Dan loved me enough to suffer intensely if that was the price.
“This is uncharted territory,” said Cheryl. “You have to understand: women have never had the cultural and sexual power they enjoy today. They have always had to compromise. In some ancient societies I studied, women did exert more sexual power, but it wasn’t common, and lack of birth control forced them into oppressive marriages sooner or later.”
“We need new relationship forms,” Cheryl went on. “Relationships that are structured on the understanding of women’s pleasure and emotions.”
“But how does that apply to me?” I asked Cheryl, feeling impatient and exasperated by her theoretical future.
“Well, think about the sexual psychology here,” Cheryl said. “You need more than Dan can give you sexually. You know that, he knows that ….”
“Right …” I said, wondering where this would lead.
“You’re still equals in marriage, but you’re not equal sexually.”
“And remind me, why is that?”
“It’s harsh but simple,” Cheryl said: “Your pussy can make his cock come—easily, I might add—but his cock can’t make your pussy come. And here’s the kicker: you’re in charge of any man sexually who can’t make your pussy come. Your best orgasms usually come when you’re submitting to a man who can fill you up, the kind of man who makes you want to spread your legs so he can stretch you and make you shake and turn you inside out.”
“But Dan can make me come,” I protested weakly.
“Yes, but you have to be in the mood,” Cheryl said. “You have to work at it. He has to stimulate your clit while you tell him what adjustments to make … whereas, a guy like Eddie, if he puts his big cock inside you, you are coming no matter what.”
I was annoyed with her again. What a shallow way to think—but she was dead on right.
“You are sexually dominant over anyone who doesn’t have the ability to make you come,” said Cheryl. “Dan can’t make you submit to your inner slut like these studs can, and his inability to prey on your submissiveness puts him in an inferior category. Especially since you can make him come at will, just by gripping your pussy around his inadequate penis. So you and Dan are no longer sexual equals, and you have to accept that.
“But here’s the thing,” she continued. “Dan knows this, too … he senses his sexual place. He craves it. He wants you to put him there. Deep inside, there’s nothing he wants more than to hear that he is sexually inferior to you, and that you need a real Alpha male to satisfy you—which he is not.”
I had nothing to say; it was a lot to absorb. Cheryl had alluded to these subjects before, but this time her words were really sinking in.
“We each have our sexual destinies,” Cheryl continued. “You are an alpha girl. As such, you crave submission to the rare male who can really take you over. This is a primal need inside you, driven by your desire to be impregnated. Your pussy is in charge of this process, not your head, and your pussy knows that pregnancy can best happen with a large cock opening up your vagina, spreading it wide with orgasms, and then shooting a big load deep inside you, all up against your walls.” I felt squirmy and horny just listening to her talk like this!
“Now that you’ve had this experience,” said Cheryl, “no vow of monogamy will protect you—unless you’re getting what you need inside the relationship. That ‘pussy memory’ of being stretched, filled, orgasmed, inseminated—for that you’ll throw everything to the wind, you’ll cheat on Dan, you’ll do whatever it takes to get that feeling again, those baby-making orgasms, screaming on a nice thick cock. But here’s the thing: after that need passes, you will crave love and affection again, and to be taken care of. In a way, you need two different men, or one man who is incredibly versatile in his physical and emotional skills.”
How did Cheryl know so much more about what made me tick than I did?
“But it gets more interesting,” Cheryl said. “You also have a need to put submissive men in their places, and that’s why you’re so attached to one.”
“But Dan’s not submissive!” I said.
“No, in the outside world he’s not. He’s not a total submissive; he’s what they call a ‘switch.’ But deep down, he knows he’s a beta man in the bedroom—a beta boy.” Cheryl’s words were harsh, but she didn’t sound cruel, just truthful. “He needs you to show him his sexual place; you both crave that on some level. And you love claiming that power over a man who seems, to the outside world, like he would never surrender that power. Yet you can take it, use it, put him in his place with it. And he needs that more than anything—until the point where it takes away from his self-respect. That’s why your cheating has driven him off.
“It won’t be easy,” Cheryl continued, “but the best hope for your relationship is to live out these needs, either in fantasies or real life …. I’ll bet if you talk about this honestly again, your sexual spark will come back. It might be different than it once was, when you were so in lust with Dan you saw him as your sexual equal, but it will give a spark back to your sex life, and Linda, it just might be the best hope for your marriage. You may even find him surprising you with a different kind of confidence—one based on acceptance and not on the pressure of having to perform beyond what he is genetically capable of.”
“If it’s just about size, why don’t we get some big toys?”
“Well, playing with toys can be good and a great outlet for fantasies,” said Cheryl. “But I think you will find toys don’t get to the heart of it. It’s not just about size; it’s about size as an avenue into dominance and submission. If Dan puts a large toy in you, he’s still a small-dicked guy pushing a toy into you. He’s not taking over your body, and your pussy isn’t juicing up the way it would with a big guy totally taking it over.”
I could definitely remember that super wet feeling, which allowed me to take these dicks that seemed so much larger than what I could normally handle.
“That’s why you generally can take a bigger cock than a toy,” Cheryl continued. “Using a toy doesn’t allow you to experience total submission nor does it allow Dan to experience the wonderfully intense feelings of being put in his place by you sexually. And I think you’ll notice, the best sex is sex that you share, where everyone is finding their place at the same time, where the truth of what you need is sharp enough to hurt a little. The physical sensations of being filled with a big cock are almost a bonus compared to the sacrifice, the proof of love Dan is offering you, and the rush of submitting totally to one man and dominating another at the same time.”
“Wow.” It was all I could think of to say. But she was right—those orgasms had been the most intense of my life. I suddenly realized it wasn’t just Benny’s size that made them so incredible—it was the way I had simultaneously taken charge of Dan’s sexual pleasure. Even while having sex with Benny alone, Dan had been on my mind. Knowing how much these encounters were making him crazy drove me to new heights.
“Don’t screw this up by longing for the perfect man,” said Cheryl. “The perfect man is just that, and almost impossible to find, even for sexy smart girls.” Cheryl’s inviting look made me want to throw her on the ground myself. “Bring the father of your child home, and set this right. It won’t be a simple relationship, but it’s your best chance.”
Silence on my end.
“You know you deserve this …” Cheryl added. “Why else would you have felt so little guilt fucking Benny all week?”
I forgot I had told Cheryl about that, and blushed.
“God, that big black cock must have felt so good inside you,” Cheryl said a little wistfully.
“Oh … you have no idea …” and we started laughing. The hard part of the conversation was over; the rest was girl talk, lusty girl talk. I had a lot to think about. I stayed up late, sitting on the front porch and listening to the wind bend the trees.