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But I’ve been devoting so much time lately to this project for Bandexx that, by the time I would make it home, I would crash as soon as my head hit the pillow. I look at Angelique and I think about how good she looked. To me she was still the prettiest thing in life I’d ever seen. Just as fine as the day I first saw her. I began to wonder why I do the things I do, when sitting here next to me, was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. And my best friend.
I knew the answer.
While we were dating, Angelique didn’t want to have sex. She said that she wasn’t a virgin or anything like that, but she wanted to wait until we were married.
“If you really love me like you say you do, then you’ll wait.”
As much as I wanted her, as much as I wanted to be inside her, I did love her enough to respect her wishes. Besides, at the time I thought it was romantic. Angelique was such a phenomenal kisser; I just knew the sex would be good, if not better.
We had a big wedding and went away on our honeymoon. The nightmare began on that night. Angelique insisted that we turn all the lights out before she got undressed. When she was naked, she laid down in bed next me. I ran my hand across her breasts and touched them, held them, squeezed them, and teased them with my tongue. I slid my tongue slowly around her beautiful circles, coming close but never touching her nipples. I spread her legs and tried to finger her clit. “Don’t do that,” she said, and pushed my hand away.
“Do what?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“What this?” I said, and tried to finger her clit again.
She pushed hand away again. “Yes, that. I don’t like that.”
I thought she was kidding, but I went along. Angelique kissed me passionately. I guided my tongue along her eyebrows, and then kissed her eyelids. I stopped to look at her face. Angelique looked more beautiful than she had at any point since we’d met.
I lowered my head and began licking and sucking her nipples. Angelique’s body began to squirm as I began working my way down to her navel. Suddenly, she grabbed me by the shoulders. “Come here,” she said, then pulled me up and on top of her.
I had waited so long for this night. I wanted desperately to be inside her and I thought she felt the same way. I plunged myself inside her and began to move. She laid there with her eyes closed tightly. I was doing what I considered my best shit, but through it all, Angelique just laid there with her eyes closed. She barely moved and didn’t make a sound.
After a while, and believe me, it wasn’t that long, Angelique pushed me off of her and rolled into the fetal position. “What’s wrong?” I asked and tried to touch her.
Her body jerked. “Nothing’s wrong, Zack. Just hold me.”
I slid in behind her, wrapped my arms around her, and she started to cry. “What’s wrong?” I asked again. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, no—nothing like that. I’m just happy, that’s all.”
I just assumed that she had cum hard and needed time to catch herself. Angelique fell asleep in my arms that night and left me rock hard and frustrated.
The next night was more of the same. Any attempt I made at any type of foreplay was met with the same words: “Stop” or “I don’t like that.”
Naturally, I assumed that since she hadn’t had a lot of sex that she was just inexperienced; and as time went on Angelique would come around and our sex would improve. But I was wrong—dead wrong.
When we have sex, and that isn’t very often, it is always in the missionary position. Angelique won’t get on top, she refuses to do it doggystyle, and oral sex is out of the question. Sometimes I cum, most times I don’t.
It’s something I’ve come to accept about our life together. I’ve tried talking to her about being more adventurous and trying new things, but it always ends in an argument. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even bring it up anymore. But as a consequence, I have sex with other women, watch a lot of porno flicks, and jerk off a lot.
I love Angelique more than anything in the world and I wish things were different. Everything else about our life together was as close to perfect as it could be. I wonder sometimes if she knows that I’m fucking other women. If she does, she has never said anything about it. Even if she doesn’t suspect that I am, I still feel bad about what I do. Just not bad enough to stop.
“I got something to tell you,” Angelique said.
“I got something to tell you, too.”
“What’s that?”
“You go first.”
“No, you,” she said.
“No, you,” I said.
“Okay, okay,” Angelique said. “I just wanted to tell you that I’ve really enjoyed us spending so much time together. That’s all. And that I love you very much.”
