My wife Tricia had a daughter when I met her. She’d gotten pregnant in college by a boy who was, according to her, an otherwise stand-up guy. The kind of stand-up guy that’s practically mass-produced by the Mormon church. The college was a Mormon school in Utah (a redundancy, I know), and the guy, who she barely knew, had recently returned from his mission in South America. He couldn’t bring himself to get it on with one of the girls whose souls he was supposed to be saving in the rain forest, and apparently the thought of masturbating terrified him. So he enrolled at his home town university when he got back, and at the first dorm party he took a nice Mormon girl back to his room and fucked her furiously for all of three minutes. Tricia confided to me that she didn’t really want to “sleep with him”, but it seems he was very persuasive. I never asked her exactly what that entailed.
When Tricia learned she was pregnant she did what any good Mormon girl is supposed to do when she’s been screwed over by a good Mormon boy: she quietly dropped out of school and moved in with her mother. She never told the boy. The town where her mother lived was a few hours and a world away from the university, and there she had her baby in a measure of dignity and comfort.
Tricia’s parents were divorced. Her mother, Barbara, was herself a good Mormon girl, but not good enough to keep Tricia’s dad interested it seems, because he left when she was 12. I never asked about the reasons for the split, but I can guess. Barbara is small and frigid, with long gray hair and cold gray eyes. She dresses very conservatively in ankle-length skirts and blouses or sweaters that cover her arms. The first time I met her I was struck by the similarity of her figure to her daughter’s, and I let my eyes roam for a moment over her plump and pleasant little form. But the excessive packaging should have served as a warning, and when my eyes met her withering gaze I knew I’d have to be more discrete in the future.
Let me be clear: I’m not a Mormon. I’m not religious at all. When I met Tricia she had been through three or four other nice Mormon boyfriends, and none of them had treated her much better than the first. Seeing that she already had one child out of wedlock they figured pre-marital sex was basically a given, and they told her as much. She had at least learned to start using the pill, which horrified all of these good Mormon boys when they inevitably found out, a discovery that spelled the end of each relationship. Her mother took a hands-off approach to her daughter’s love life, not because she felt Tricia could make her own decisions, but because she knew her daughter was damaged goods, and she couldn’t in good conscience pressure any self-respecting Mormon boy to take her. And that’s how things stood when Tricia and I met.
I took pre-marital sex as a given too, but only because I did with every girl I dated. With Tricia I waited until the 3rd date because I knew she was kind of traditional, and I think it was sort of a refreshing change for her too. Barbara didn’t take to me very well at first. With the other guys she’d had a vague hope that some basic decency would take hold of them and they’d give her daughter and granddaughter the life they deserved. Small hope, but hope nonetheless. With me all hope seemed to vanish. I tried small talk and flattery, but for the first few months I may as well have been Satan arriving to pick up her daughter in the evenings.
I didn’t mind much. Tricia was worth it. We clicked on quite a few levels, not least of them being the physical level. She came across as so old-fashioned at first that I didn’t expect much in the bedroom, but she was a little bundle of sexual fury: eager to please and grateful to be pleased, she could stand to fuck for several hours, and she fit my body like a glove. Three months into the relationship I knew she was the one and, even though she came with some baggage, I decided to propose.
Her mother was stunned, of course. But she’s nothing if not a realist, and as she listened to our announcement I could see her silently calculating that this was the best offer her daughter was likely to get. After all, religion aside I’m not such a bad catch. I have a good job and I own my own home. I don’t drink regularly or smoke. And I adore Tricia’s daughter Skylar as if she were my own. I even offered to let the old lady move in with us until she could find a place of her own (Tricia had a good job at a bank and had been supporting all of them for some time when I met her).
The wedding was a small civil ceremony with just a few friends. My family is all back on the East Coast and most of them couldn’t make the trip. Afterwards, the first problem to deal with was sleeping arrangements. The house has 3 bedrooms, all on the upper floor and on the same side of the house, set wall to wall one after another. The bedroom next to the master bedroom is the smallest of the three, and it seemed natural to put Skylar in that one. But after the first Maltepe Escort Bayan night the problem with that was obvious. Tricia and I aren’t exactly quiet in bed. When we really get going she can’t stop squealing and moaning, and even if she muffles the sound by burying her face in a pillow it still carries through the walls. That first night we did our best to keep it quiet, but the next morning at breakfast Skylar announced to her grandma that her mom was sick and had been up all night moaning and crying. Barbara shot us a steely look and told Skylar she could have the bigger room at the corner of the house.
I thought it would make me uncomfortable to have my mother-in-law in the room next door while we made love, but it didn’t really bother me. In fact, though I’d never admit it to Tricia, it actually turned me on. Like I said before, the two of them really do look quite a bit alike, and especially in the dark, riding Tricia doggy style, it was easy to imagine it was Barbara’s long hair clenched in my right hand and Barbara’s chubby ass that I was slapping with my left. If the close proximity made Tricia uncomfortable she never let on. Some nights we’d fuck into the early hours of the morning, and I’d elicit such whorish moans from her it almost made even me blush. But if it bothered the old lady she never so much as rapped her knuckles on the wall to let us know it.
We were married for two months when Tricia discovered she was pregnant again. We had talked about kids and agreed we wanted to have more at some point, but she didn’t tell me she was going off the pill. I wasn’t upset, just surprised. It was around this time Barbara’s attitude toward me started to change. With a new baby on the way it seemed my place in the family had become cemented in her eyes, and she seemed to warm up and grow a little more pleasant when I was around. I’m sure it was helped by the fact that Tricia and I had eased up a bit in the bedroom as she became more pregnant.
But if the pregnancy was making my relationship with Barbara easier, it was changing the way I felt about Tricia. I still loved her and wanted to be with her, but I was growing restless. Before her, I had never been very good at the monogamy thing. My relationships didn’t usually last more than a few months, and they tended to overlap. I’d never been with a woman who set my mind on fire with lust the way Tricia did, but as she became more swollen and more preoccupied with getting ready for the baby, the less time and attention she had for me, and the less I had for her.
I noticed my eye starting to wander. And often as not (maybe because she was always around) it would come to land on Barbara. Barbara’s plump behind. Barbara’s large, sagging boobs. Barbara’s thick, mysterious legs hidden behind her long white skirts. I was careful enough by this time not to let her catch my little glances, but I think she knew something was up. I’d linger at the table after everyone else had finished and excused themselves, pretending to reread the newspaper but really just watching Barbara’s plump behind shift beneath her skirt while she washed the dishes. She’d glance over at me from time to time and ask if I was ok. She probably thought I was worried about Tricia and the baby and becoming a father and all that.
After a couple weeks of this moping, and of complete quiet in the bedroom, Barbara came in and sat down next to me on the couch one afternoon. Tricia was at work and Skylar was still at school, so we were alone in the house. I’d been channel surfing while I stole surreptitious glances at Barbara’s ass as she vacuumed, and when she sat down I was at first afraid she’d finally caught me eying her. But the look on her face was kind and solicitous.
“You mind if I sit with you?” she said.
“Looks like you already are,” I said, smiling, and she smiled back.
“How are you holding up?” she asked.
“Um,” I said, pretty sure what she meant, but thinking it best to play dumb, “Ok, I guess. In what way?”
“A lot’s changed for you in the past 6 months. And it’s about to change even more. Must be a lot to deal with.”
I was surprised. I hadn’t thought her capable of so much empathy for me.
“It is,” I said, staring at my hands in my lap. “And I wish I could say I was handling it better.” I looked up to see an expression of genuine concern on her face.
“You know, I wasn’t sure about you at first. Tricia had been through so many bad experiences, men who were basically good but who used her and tossed her away like trash. I think that’s how she was beginning to feel, like trash. It was hard for me to watch that, and I didn’t want to see it happen again. But you’re different. You don’t live exactly the way I might want you to if you were my son, but you’re a good man and a good husband. And you’ll be a good father. It pains to me to think about how miserable she was before you came along.”
I was a little stunned as this speech poured out of her.
“I Escort Maltepe — I appreciate that,” I said, “but I’ve gotta admit I have my doubts.”
Sh looked at me again with the same expectant look of concern, but she didn’t say anything.
“I don’t want to bore you. I’m sure you’ve got your own worries without adding mine.”
“I don’t mind,” she said, hurriedly. “You can talk to me about it.” Her face assumed a broad, sweet smile that I never suspected of existing. Two firsts in one afternoon.
“I don’t think, uh,” I said, not really sure how to talk her at this point. “It’s kind of guy stuff, I guess.”
Her smile broadened a little more. “Oh, come on now. I raised three boys along with Tricia. You can think of me as your own mom too now. Go on,” she said, putting a hand on my knee.
“You don’t really want to hear it,” I said, feeling my cock stiffen a little at her touch.
“Go on,” she said, squeezing a little.
And I thought, what the hell, so I told her. I told her how different this all was for me, told her what my relationship history had been like before Tricia, and how I hadn’t always been the most faithful boyfriend. The smile faded from her face when I confessed I wasn’t sure this time would ultimately be any different. Before I could say much more she had pulled her hand off my knee and covered her face with it. She had a pained expression on her face and looked like she might cry.
“You can’t do this to them,” she said suddenly, shaking her head. “Not now. You can’t run out on them now. I can’t go through that again. Please.”
She was definitely crying by this time. She wasn’t angry, which was the thing I’d been most afraid of. She just looked abject and hopeless, and having her at my mercy like this I decided to go ahead and try for what I really wanted.
I put my hand on her knee like she had done to me earlier and smiled and spoke softly to her.
“I don’t want to, and I don’t have to,” I began. “But men aren’t good at this. You know it. Your own husband left because he had been running around, didn’t he?” I was guessing here, but when her face took on a crushed expression at the mention of this old hurt I knew I had hit the mark. “We’re just not built for this. We need more. More variety. Not a lot, just enough to take the edge off.”
“A little, a lot, it doesn’t matter. It would kill her. I know.”
“She wouldn’t have to find out.” I squeezed her knee a little.
“Believe me,” she said, shaking her head, “we always find out.”
“But she wouldn’t have to. We could be careful,” I said squeezing her knee a little harder and moving it higher up her thigh.
She looked up at me through her tear-filled eyes, comprehension dawning.
“What?” she said.
I went for broke, told her how I though she was as beautiful as her daughter, and how between the two of them I would never have any need to wander. She could save us all, I told her, she could keep us all happy, and the life we had now wouldn’t need to change.
She sprang back and stood up as if the devil had suddenly appeared next to her. The old stony expression was back, mixed now with righteous anger.
“I knew it. I knew it and I told her. I told her, I told her, I told her! Filth!” she spat, taking another step backwards and covering her chest with her hands, as if she were afraid I’d get up and violate her right there. “I knew you were filth. And you listen to me. I won’t have anything to do you with. And if you ever speak to me about this again, Tricia will know about it. And if you ever think about looking at any other woman, believe me, Tricia will know about this.”
She smiled as she said these last few words, obviously thinking she had me by the balls. I just smiled and shook my head at her miscalculation.
“I am going to look at another woman, though I don’t know who it will be yet. And if Tricia finds out, then she finds out. But if she does, it’s not my life that’s going to be ruined. You think about that,” I said. And I picked up my jacket and left the house.
I wasn’t sure how she would act. On the one hand, for all her eccentricities she had always seemed fairly pragmatic, suppressing her weird righteousness for the sake of Tricia and Skylar. But on the other hand she was kind of a nut-job, so it was anybody’s guess. At this point I figured the best case scenario was that I would keep a girlfriend on the side and Barbara would keep biting her tongue. The though depressed me, and for the first time in months I decided I needed a drink.
I headed to a bar I used to frequent in college. It was still afternoon so the pool tables were all free, and I ordered a beer and played a few sets. After awhile some old friends stopped in and I played a few sets with them and drank a few more beers. By the time I thought about going home it was after 1:00 AM. I was way too hammered to drive, so I had one more round with the boys and then had the bartender call me a cab. It was Maltepe Escort almost 2:00 when he dropped me off.
Everyone was in bed, of course. I stumbled around a little trying to find a lamp in the living room. By the time I found one Tricia was standing on the stairs with Barbara right behind her. They were both glaring fiercely at me, but it was Tricia who spoke.
“Where have you been? I almost called the police I was so freaked out,” she said.
“Rough day. Had a few drinks with some old friends.”
“And you couldn’t call?” she said, her voice getting higher and louder.
“Lost track of time, I guess,” I said, taking my jacket off and trying not to look at either of them.
“And the fact that it got dark outside didn’t mean anything to you?”
“I wasn’t outside,” I said, laughing stupidly at my own joke. “You know what, you don’t actually own me. And after the shit I’ve done for you you could cut me a little slack.”
“Really?” she said, here eyes widening. “And tell me, what exactly have you done for me? What is it I should be so grateful for?”
“You want the whole list?” I shouted, and at that point Barbara finally stepped forward and between us.
“All right, that’s enough, both of you. You’ll wake Skylar, and the neighbors are going to call the police if you keep this up. Let’s just all go to bed.”
“You’re not sleeping with me,” Tricia said coldly.
“I planned on sleeping somewhere else tonight anyway,” I said, glancing at Barbara. Her eyes grew wide in fear and she pursed her lips a little as if to tell me to shut up. But Tricia had already headed back up the stairs and didn’t notice our glances.
“Good,” she said. “Enjoy yourself.”
I smiled drunkenly at Barbara and held out my hands as if to say “How about it?” but she turned with a look of disgust and walked back to her room. I grabbed a blanket from the closet and collapsed on the couch for the night.
The next morning Tricia was out of the house before I woke up. I could hear Barbara in the kitchen with Skylar, but I didn’t bother looking in on them. I went upstairs and took a shower. Surprisingly, I didn’t have much of a hangover, I was just a little dehydrated. When I came back downstairs Barbara had already sent Skylar off to catch her school bus, and the two of us were alone in the house once again.
I went into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast, but Barbara wasn’t there. As I went about making myself some eggs and coffee I heard her go up the stairs and close her bedroom door. There were worse things than being ignored at that point, so I shrugged it off and sat down to eat and to read my newspaper.
Barbara stayed in her room all morning, and I did some work in my office, enjoying the perfect peace and quiet. Around 1:00 I went to the living room and turned on the TV to watch a game. I was a few minutes into it when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I turned to see Barbara standing on the bottom step.
“Please come with me for a minute,” she said, and turned to walk back up the stairs. I got up and followed her to her bedroom where she stopped right outside the door and turned to face me. The light was off in the hallway and neither of us had bothered to turn it on, though it was fairly dark at that end of the house. I stopped a few feet away from her.
“Ok,” she said.
“Ok?”
“Yes, ok, I agree to your — proposition,” she said quietly and sternly, the way one agrees to a root canal. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I didn’t miss a beat. I smiled and took a step toward her, but she held up a hand to stop me.
“I have some rules,” she said.
Of course you do, I thought, but I just said “Ok. What are the rules?”
“First, you do nothing, and I mean not even a glance, when Tricia and Skylar are home. They can’t suspect anything. If they do, it ends.”
“Ok,” I said.
“Second, this happens no more than once a month.”
“Once a week,” I said, shaking my head.
She started to argue but I cut her off, “It’s my needs we’re dealing with here, and I know the absolute minimum that I need. Especially now that she’s pregnant. I’m sure you’ve noticed the reduction in noise coming through your wall at night.”
She clenched her jaw and said, “Fine. Once a week. No more.”
“Any more rules?” I asked.
She looked at me soberly and hesitated before saying, “Yes, but I’ll tell you as we go.”
I took that as an invitation, and I stepped forward and put my arms around her waist. I dipped my head to kiss her, but she put her hand up and pushed me back a few inches.
“Third,” she said. “No kissing. Ever. You only kiss your wife.”
“All right,” I said.
“And you don’t get to watch me undress, and I don’t want to watch you. Stand here, and I’ll let you know when you can come in.”
I almost laughed at her prudishness, but I thought it best to go along with her game this time, so I said ok and waited patiently as she went inside and closed the door. She took her time getting ready, and I was about to open the door early when I heard her say “All right.”
She was in bed under the covers when I walked in, and her clothes were all folded neatly on a chair at the end of the bed. She was lying on her back, very straight like a mummy.