This post is a little different from everything that has come so far—over 1500 of them. This post is deliberately, consciously fiction. But that shouldn't be so strange. I've used this venue to make forays into poetry, philosophy, armchair psychology—even meming, for heaven's sake!—in addition to all my usual whining. Why not fiction?
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| "Roughly he grabbed her heaving shoulders, pulling her down onto the bed and ...." |
So to be clear, what I have linked in the pages below never really happened. It is purely fiction. More than that, it is actually pornography, or at any rate an attempt at pornography. I don't know if it really works, but that's how it should be graded. If it doesn't work, leave me a comment to let me know why, or what I need to fix.
Having said all that, the story is nonetheless based on an event that really happened. Back in the summer of 1992, Marie undertook a cross-country road trip. She stopped in for one weekend to visit Wife and me. (I mention the visit briefly in this post.) The visit was fun, but its long-term consequences poisoned my friendship with Marie for a while, because Wife told her lies about us that led Marie to offer to be my side-piece. I was already uncomfortable with Wife sleeping around, and I was pretty sure I was in favor of monogamy on principle (even though I also wanted to get into the pants of Girlfriend 1, who wanted nothing to do with me). So I was troubled and confused over the issue, and this meant that I handled Marie's offer very clumsily. She was hurt, and took my rejection very much to heart. When we finally got back together in 2016, we had a lot of damage to work through.
But recently I began to wonder, What if Wife had just told Marie the truth? And then what if, on top of that, she had been a lot more cunning and skillful at human relations in general? Could we have had a different outcome?
The story that follows is one possible answer to that question.
Because this story uses real people, and because it is based (however loosely) on real events, I should introduce some caveats to distinguish reality from fiction. The ones that I can think of are as follows.
At no point in the story do I ever bother to talk about birth control (nor about sexually-transmitted diseases, God help us). In reality, Wife could never tolerate the Pill. Sometimes she used an IUD. In between IUD's, we used condoms. At the time when this story is set (summer 1992), Marie was not involved in a romantic or sexual relationship with anyone, so I assume she was not using any birth control. If these things had happened in real life, there would have been discussions about birth control, and there would have been awkward breaks in the action while I put on a condom or else we improvised a workaround. Since none of this happened in real life, I have made the narrative easier on everybody by skipping that part.
I have more or less tried to represent the emotional state of the participants (who are, after all, real people) as of summer 1992, but there are a few exceptions. I try to show Marie as sexually inexperienced and nervous, but willing to learn. At the time, it is questionable how willing she would have been to learn in reality, or how easy it would have been to teach her. She has told me things that make me think it would have been a lot harder than that to make any progress. (See, for example, this post and this one for some insight into how difficult she made this subject for herself.) Of course it's also true that she adapted quickly enough after spending a few days fucking with me when she finally got the chance in 2016. (See for example this post and others following it.) So I can't be sure, but I suspect that I am portraying her with more simple innocence and less tortured anxiety and self-hatred than she would have felt in reality.
A second change for Marie is that I make her orgasms mostly quieter than they were at first in reality. Another way to say this is to say that Marie, in the story, figures out right away (or learned somewhere else) how to breathe heavily—even intensely—without running it all through her voicebox. As you may remember, in real life it took Marie something like four years of intermittent visits to learn this skill. But I didn't want to interrupt the narrative with neighbors pounding on the door, so I wrote her as quicker to catch on.
I have portrayed Wife to be both wiser and wilier than she ever was at the time, by a long shot. This is, in fact, the founding conceit of the whole enterprise.
I'm pretty sure that I have portrayed myself to be more skillful with my fingers and tongue than I was at the time. The background is that I was almost completely innocent of sexual experience when I got involved with Wife (except for one awkward evening with Marie that I report here). As of narrative time (nine years later) I had learned the essentials from Wife but not much more. Wife and I communicated badly in bed, because each of us was embarrassed to talk about sex in general, and even more embarrassed to talk about what we really liked or disliked. (See, for example, some of the discussion in this post and this one.) My approach wasn't quite the same as hers, but I still couldn't talk about what worked for me. It was a mess. And so I didn't really learn any more advanced sexual skill until my affair with D (2008-2012)—a woman who had thought long about sex and was not afraid to discuss it. She gave me the feedback that I had needed for so long. Anyway, it is possible that I might have known enough to do some of these things back in 1992; but it is unlikely that I would have known enough to do them all, and I can't remember at this point which is which.
The pictures are all ones that I found on the Internet. Obviously none of these is of any of us, and I have not troubled to make them consistent.
The story is long enough to divide into chapters:
I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know how I can make it better.
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