It's Not As Simple As "I Do"

Anyone who's been married knows that the institution of marriage provides a complicated situation for the man and woman involved. It starts out with the participants proclaiming love "until death do us part," whether "in sickness or health," and "forsaking all others." Those are powerful words and concepts that I speculate most of the people entering into matrimony don't fully understand, especially in view of the curves life throws at us all. I sure didn't fully understand them when I got married at the obscenely young age of eighteen.

I'm Amy Walton, nee Allison. I have always considered myself a decent looking and somewhat intelligent girl/woman, but nothing special. My self-image may have been adversely affected because I had a shitty home life growing up, complicated greatly by my parents' divorce. I always felt that it was my fault, and my parents weren't astute enough, or didn't care enough, to convince me that it wasn't. My brother grew up completely fucked up, and my Mom taking in "overnight" boarders after my father left didn't help anything.

I probably married Brian Walton to get away from control by, contact with, whatever you want to call it, my mother. He was the ripe old age of twenty when we wed and as clueless as I was about life. We had a small – very small – wedding and moved into a small apartment.

I wasn't very experienced sexually when I married Brian. I had expected married sex to be much better than it was – and maybe with a more caring and responsive partner it would have been. Sometimes it was decent, other times it was just Brian getting his rocks off. There was never any oral, little experimentation, and I orgasmed about one third of the time.

One problem that I always had with Brian, but never addressed before I said "I do" to the "till death do us part, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others," mumbo-jumbo was that he was a male chauvinist, especially around other guys. That didn't mean that he wasn't nice to me or other women – he was. He simply had strong, unrealistic, outdated ideas about women.

Married life wasn't all bad, just not exciting or intellectually stimulating. Brian is a decent, mild mannered guy, and even when we first got married he was an excellent machinist so that he made decent money. I worked as a waitress for a while – something I really hated since I got hit on constantly; I got the feeling that many guys found me much hotter than I considered myself. I never could figure out why just because guys buy some food and drink at a restaurant that they feel that that entitles them to harass the waitress. I didn't play the game so my tips were never stellar.

After we had been married for three years we had our first child, a boy we named Tom. Brian insisted that I quit work. I could have looked at it two ways – his chauvinism coming out, or real concern for raising our kids properly. Since I hated being a waitress I didn't really care which was the case – I quit working.

We had normal marriage ups and downs, but all downs when it came to baby care. I doubt that Brian changed more than five diapers the entire time that Tom was in them.

After a miscarriage two years after I delivered Tom I was really down in the dumps, i. e. depressed. Brian didn't know how to deal with it. I finally went to see a psychologist and she got me back on track more despite Brian than because of him

Fortunately, we were blessed with fraternal twin girls, Jamie and Brittany, about eighteen months after I miscarried. Brian was no more help with them than he was with Tom until one day I went ballistic and made him take over what I normally did during a day, caring for two babies and a five year old at the same time. That gave him "religion," at least for a while, and he started helping out some.

Don't get me wrong. Although Brian almost never helped with the work of childcare he loved playing with and being with the kids. It was obvious that they were the light of his life.

About the time that the twins turned six months old our monetary situation changed dramatically for the better. First Brian got a promotion to master machinist because he was the only one at his shop that could properly machine to exacting specifications some of the very expensive and exotic materials, such as beryllium copper tubing, that they dealt with. That meant that he made more money than almost any other blue collar worker in our entire metropolitan area of Raleigh, North Carolina. That, combined with what we had saved from handling money carefully, allowed us to buy a nice house.

The second thing that happened was that I invented a type of baby carrier that was sturdier, simpler, and more aesthetic than anything on the market. Despite Brian initially pooh-poohing it I went to see a patent attorney, filed a patent application, and had a friend of mine who is really handy with both a sewing machine and "guy tools," make about a dozen units. I took them to a tradeshow one weekend, while Brian – with his mother's help – watched the kids. My baby carriers were an instant success. I sold the rights to a big company within ten days of the tradeshow, and within three months royalty checks started rolling in.

Shortly thereafter I came up with another invention that I had patented. It was a new type of high-end crib, easily convertible to other pieces of furniture once the child outgrew it. While the royalty money from my first invention was good, I figured that I could make ten times as much if I went into production of the crib myself. I found a high quality local manufacturer whose business was down, and someone with contacts with department and baby stores. Using my royalty money I started a business that became successful quite quickly. I found out that I had a knack for business.

To lose the weight that I had gained during my second pregnancy I started a regular exercise regime, and since I need to look presentable at business meetings I went to a makeup consultant and hair dresser to get a makeover. Within several months I actually started to think of myself as significantly above average in the body and face attractiveness departments – something that was often confirmed by the looks and comments I received from guys when I was in public, although I never solicited any attention.

While my success sure made things easy for us financially, including being able to send our kids to private school since the local public ones were deficient and didn't provide any day care, it had an adverse effect on the relationship between Brian and me. I don't know exactly what it was – maybe Brian felt threatened by my success since he had always been the primary bread winner in the family, maybe because he felt that I was giving too much attention to my appearance, I don't know what – but he started getting delusions about me having one or more affairs.

"Complete delusions" were what they were. I had never cheated during our marriage and I don't know where his accusations were coming from. It seemed that any time that I had a business meeting with a man – whether in town or the few times I met business contacts out of town – I was met by increasingly more angry and fanciful accusations.

In all honesty, the constant accusations, the lack of any marital romance, and increasingly infrequent as well as unsatisfying sex, was making me question whether I did love Brian.

After the kids had gone to bed as Brian was bellyaching and accusing the night before I had my most important business trip since I came up with my crib concept, one where I would be gone overnight two nights and had arranged for a very competent sitter, I finally had had enough. "Why do you keep accusing me of infidelity when I've never been unfaithful to you? What possible reason or proof could you have?"

"You're always meeting with guys most of whom are better looking than I am," was his startled response, "and you seem to be paying a lot more attention to your appearance than when we got married."

"You do fucking know that most of my business contacts for my cribs are guys; don't you?" I screamed even louder, "and that appearance is important in making presentations in the business world?" He remained silent with an uncomfortable look.

"You seem to like the money that my business brings in, so how am I supposed to continue to make money it if I stop doing business?" I asked, this time trying to lower my voice.

"Well, uh, you – well you could license the cribs just like you did the baby carrier and just stay at home with the kids. A woman's place is in the home, not out trying to compete with men. The only reason I can think of why you would do that is to hook up with them," he replied with a defiant tone and his arms crossed.

"You fucking moron," I spat out. "Either you're stuck in the 19th century or you're the most insecure person on earth; we make ten times as much money by me running the crib business as we would if I licensed it!" He had no response to that, just an insolent glare. "In any event I'm not putting up with your shit anymore!"

With that I went into our bedroom and finished packing for my trip to Chicago, called a cab, and left to stay at the hotel at the airport for the night so that I could just roll out of bed to get my flight early the next morning.

"Where are you going?" Brian barked as I was headed out the door with my suitcase and laptop.

"I can't stand the sight of your moronic face anymore. I'll spend the night in a hotel. I'll call the kids tomorrow night at 6:00 as planned, and I'll be back Thursday night around 8:00, also as planned. You can move my stuff into the guest room while I'm gone," I snarled. It appeared that he was trying to say "Oh, wait..." but the door slamming cut him off and I was in the cab before he got outside with a bemused look on his face.

My cellphone rang while I was about halfway to the hotel. It was Brian. I turned it off.

I had a fitful night's sleep. I was so angry, disappointed in Brian, and distraught about what the rest of my life looked like that I knew that I had to resolve some issues before I got back home. Exactly how I was going to do that with the heavy schedule I had, meeting with my supplier, a testing agency, a large existing customer, and an even larger potential customer, I didn't know. I finally did get a little shuteye but the ring of the 6:30 a. m. alarm found me physically tired and emotionally drained.

My adrenaline started flowing on the flight and by the time that I got to my first meeting I was almost completely "on." The next two days were a whirlwind of activity, including long business dinners both nights after all-day meetings, or traveling from one meeting place to the other.

The first night in Chicago I called the kids just before dinner. They were happy to talk with me and I stayed on the phone for more than half an hour hearing about their days and upcoming events. When Brian got on he was terse. "Why didn't you answer my cell phone call or return it?" he snapped.

"Because I said what I wanted to say, and nothing else was going to convince you that your ideas are ridiculous. Unless you want to apologize to me and retract your asshole accusations I have nothing to say to you now. I need to think about our future," I replied. Despite the harshness of my words I tried to moderate my tone.

"You are fucking someone else, aren't you..." was all that he got out before I hung up on him.

That night I got little sleep, preoccupied not only with what I was going to do about Brian but also with the upcoming day's activities.

The second night in Chicago I again called the kids and talked to them for a half hour. Brian didn't bother to come to the phone – fine with me. In fact, I'm not sure that he was even there since the sitter answered the phone.

After my business dinner that night I was completely exhausted but not the least bit relaxed. I thought that a soak in the hotel's hot tub was in order. I put on the skimpy two piece swimsuit that I had bought myself as a present when I toned my body to the point that I was happy with it after I delivered the twins. I also donned a hotel robe and slippers and went downstairs. It was late enough that there was only one other person in the swimming pool – hot tub area; a man about my age in the hot tub.

"I hope that I won't be disturbing you by soaking for a while," I said to the guy as I approached the tub.

He looked up with a forlorn expression, forced a smile, and said "No problem – please."

I did notice that his eyes get wide when I took off my robe and stepped into the tub, opposite him.

"I hope I won't be insulting you," he said after I was submerged up to my neck, "but you look as despondent as I feel."

I was a little surprised by that statement from a stranger. I didn't doubt that I looked despondent, however, so I replied "I'm not the least bit insulted. Embarrassed that my emotion is so obvious; and of course I can't know how you feel, but I can't dispute your assessment of my condition."

"Sorry," he responded with a sheepish look. "I really had no business saying that."

"Please don't be sorry; I just pity you if really do feel as dejected as I look." He forced another smile. "I don't suppose you'd like to talk about it?" He got a quizzical look on his face, but I pushed it. "I'm Amy, by the way."

"Are you a priest, Amy?" he laughed. I shook my head "no" and smiled. He leaned forward and extended his hand. "I'm Rob, Amy," he said. As we shook hands he continued "I wasn't always a lost soul; that happened just recently."

"Hey, maybe your situation is worse than mine and I'll feel better by comparison," I joked, hoping to introduce some levity into a foreboding encounter.

"Well let me ask you this before opening up my soul to you. Where are you from and how often do you get to Chicago?"

"I'm from Raleigh, North Carolina, I've never been to Chicago before, and it is unlikely that I'll come back again, certainly not in the near future. How about you?"

"Well I'm from Dallas, and this is also my first, and likely last, time in Chicago. I guess that means that we're unlikely to ever meet again, doesn't it, Amy?"

"I believe that you're right, Rob; does that make you feel like unburdening your problems?"

Rob and I exchanged some verbal parries and thrusts for a few more minutes. Then it appeared that he was willing to open up. I looked at him expectantly as he was obviously rolling around in his mind what he wanted to say. Finally it came out, hesitantly at first and then in a gusher.

"I've been married to Melinda for five years. We were discussing having kids, something that we always wanted before marriage. She was getting a little hard to pin down about it and the way that she was acting got me concerned – and," he sighed, "suspicious. To make a long story short I found out that she has been having an affair and hasn't made her lover use a condom."

"Oh shit!" I exclaimed. After a delay I asked "Have you confronted her?"

"Yes. I also confronted the guy that Melinda was having an affair with just before I left on this trip. I beat the shit out of him, and I'm wondering whether the cops will be waiting when I get back home."

"More importantly than the cops, what did Melinda say when you confronted her?"

"She lied about it. When I showed her a first photo she continued to lie. After a second she cursed me and lied some more. After a third photo that left nothing to the imagination she said that I had no business spying on her. I told her that we were done and stormed out of the apartment, stayed at a hotel that night, and beat the shit out of her paramour just before I went to the airport; that was three days ago."

"Have you heard from her since?"

"She's left something like ten messages on my cellphone. I listened to them all but haven't responded to any. In the first one she called me childish; in the second one she chastised me for beating up her friend; in the third one she said that we needed to talk; the last seven have gotten progressively more conciliatory including the one tonight where she begged my forgiveness, promised it was over, couldn't explain why she had done it, and cried hysterically," Rob replied. With each word he seemed to get more and more choked up. Finally he wiped a tear from his eye.

"Sorry, it was a bad idea for me to burden you," he continued after he regained his composure.

"I don't know what to say," I stammered. "Do you want it to work out?"

After a long delay he tilted his head, wiped off another tear, and said "I'm not sure. My main fear is that I'll never again find someone who could make me feel as great as I did when Melinda and I were first married. Maybe the odds are better trying to re-kindle that feeling than finding someone else; I don't know."

After another long pause Rob seemed to buck up and asked "So what's your story? Is your husband cheating on you?"

"What makes you think that I'm married?" I replied with a smile.

"I saw the rings at the same time that I saw your sleek body." I laughed, Rob blushed and said "Sorry, I didn't mean for that to come out. Uh, well...so is that your problem?"

"No. My problem is that my husband has become more of a male chauvinist pig every day, it seems; and he keeps accusing me of having affairs without any reason aside from the fact that I deal with men in business. He wasn't available when I needed him when I was depressed after a miscarriage and when I needed help tending to three little kids; and I don't know if I love him."

"Have you – had affairs?" he asked with trepidation.

"Wow – are you bold; I've only known you a half hour and you asked me a question like that?" I said, with a loud laugh.

"Has it been a half hour? We need to get out before we cook," he laughed in return.

"No; absolutely not," I replied with a grin.

"You don't want to get out?" Rob asked, puzzled.

"No, I've never had an affair; but I soon may," I laughed.

With that we both got out of the hot tub. I noticed what a nice body that Rob had; I also noticed that he noticed mine. There was a lot of "noticing" going on.

It probably was a combination of things, but primarily my fatigue from several days in a row of burning the candle at both ends and not sleeping well combined with the heat from the hot tub, but I suddenly felt very faint. Rob noticed – again more "noticing" – and caught me before I fell. He sat me down on a lounge chair, put my robe over my shoulders, and got me a cup of water from the pool drinking fountain.

I recovered in three or four minutes and thanked Rob. "Would you mind making sure that I don't pass out before I get to my room?" I asked. "It's 1415."

"No problem," Rob replied, putting on his robe and helping me up.

We had light banter as we walked the meandering path to the elevator and then took it up to the fourteenth floor. Rob stood on the opposite side of the elevator as we rode up and chatted. When we got to my room I looked into his eyes as I said "Thank you." Then my body suddenly involuntarily shivered – especially my crotch – which caused me to get bold. "Rob would you like to come in?"

He stared at me. "We both have very complicated situations right now. Do you think my coming into your room would help either of them?"

"I don't know if it will help your situation, but I do believe – yes I'm certain – that it will help my situation. Please?" I continued, reaching out and touching his arm.

Less than two minutes later we were both naked and in a tight embrace with Rob's rock hard cock poking my stomach. After another two minutes I was on my back in my bed with Rob's lips, tongue and fingers furiously working over my pussy. I never had someone go down on me before. At first I didn't know how to react, but that was only a very temporary problem. After a few minutes I just let myself succumb to the phenomenal pleasure he bestowed upon me.