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Any guy who has kids knows not to expect too much from their wives sexually while they are pregnant. Of course there are women who have no problem making love almost to the end. But even then, it isn’t as often or anywhere near as energetic as when they aren’t pregnant. For example, my wife and I normally bang the headboard three or four times a week, spending at least an hour between foreplay and other activities. When she was pregnant with our son though, it dropped to once, sometimes twice a week, and we never fucked hard enough to even make the springs squeak. So, when my wife got pregnant with our daughter, I was already prepared for the slowdown in our sex life.
However, neither one of us were prepared for what happened this time around. That is, that this pregnancy was not going to be as easy as the first one, and that we would have to give up sex completely for the entire time. No, there weren’t any major complications, my wife wasn’t bedridden, and she didn’t have any infections. She was just nauseous way more often than the first time, had occasional cramps, and her body was overly sensitive to any kind of stimulation. All these together made any kind of sex uncomfortable, and sometimes even painful. We tried to wait out the initial morning sickness, and other things, but by the end of the third month, it was plain that her whole pregnancy was going to be like this. And, by that time, I’d also reached the point where I definitely needed some kind of sexual relief.
Naturally, I resorted to doing what men always do when they can’t have sex. I started masturbating, which believe it or not, pissed my wife off. The first time that happened was when I did it one night in bed, after she was asleep. The shaking of the bed from my hand movements had woken her up, and she asked me not to do it again because it made her feel sick when I did. The next time was a couple of weeks later when she woke up in the middle of the night and I wasn’t in bed. Because she’d said doing it in bed had made her sick, I’d taken to locking myself in our computer room and doing it there. Well, first she wanted to know why I had locked the door, then got pissed when she found out what I’d been doing. You’d figure she’d understand because of the lack of sex, but she just repeated what she’d said in the bedroom about me masturbating making her sick. Only now I understood that it wasn’t that my shaking the bed had made her physically ill, it was that the whole idea of me masturbating was sick to her.
Naturally, I got a little pissed off myself when she said that, and told her she was fucking nuts if she thought I was going to go 9 months without some kind of sex. She surprised me then by actually being surprised that I’d gotten mad about what she’d said. Then she asked me where I got the idea that she expected me to go without sex, of course she didn’t expect that. She just didn’t want me to masturbate, and that had nothing to do with sex. So I asked her what I was supposed to do for sex if I didn’t masturbate, and she looked at me like I was an idiot before saying I should just go get some sex, what else?. When I replied that I couldn’t cheat on her like that, she said it wasn’t cheating if I wasn’t getting what I needed from her, it was my right as a man. When I told her it was still cheating, she said that if I still thought that after she told me I had the right to do it, that was up to me. But, she wasn’t going to let me spend the next 6 months just playing with myself.
By a week later, I’d pretty much forgotten the conversation my wife and I had, when something happened to start it all over again. One of my wife’s friends in the building we live in is a woman named Esme. She’s a divorcee about 5 years older than my wife, and while she’s not as beautiful as my wife, she’s definitely fuckable. And I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit to having had a few fantasies of doing just that, fucking her. Anyway, she lives 2 floors above us, and we just happened to be in the elevator together one day. Nothing happened, besides the normal hello how are you type of stuff, until the elevator stopped at our floor. Then, as I was getting out, she took hold of my hand, and told me that if there was anything she could help me with, anything at all, I knew where she lived. The words themselves sounded innocent enough, but the way she was holding my hand, and the way she was looking at me were not. I’ve never had a more obvious invitation to fuck, except maybe from my wife. However, while I was caught completely off guard, I was still able to act as if it were an innocent offer. I just thanked her, and got out of the elevator, and didn’t really think about it until I was inside our apartment.
I don’t believe in keeping secrets from my wife, even though sometimes I probably should. So, once I was sure that I hadn’t imagined the whole thing, I went and told her about it. Her response shouldn’t have surprised me, considering the talk we’d had the week before. But, as I said, I’d forgotten all about it by then. Anyway, she asked me what I’d said when Esme made her offer, and when were we planning to let together. When Van Escort I told her I hadn’t done anything, except thank her for her offer, my wife asked why, was she too old or too ugly for me? When I told her that wasn’t the case, she asked again why I hadn’t done anything. Esme was divorced, so I didn’t have to worry about a husband getting mad at me. She couldn’t have kids anymore, so I didn’t have to worry about getting her pregnant. And, she obviously wanted me to fuck her, so what was the problem? Something else was also obvious now, and that’s that my wife had something to do with what had happened. And when I told her I knew that, she just said so, and again asked what the problem was.
I repeated what I’d told her many times before, about not wanting to cheat on her. Then I said that even if I did, doing it with Esme wouldn’t be a good idea, because she lived in the same building. I mean, suppose I did use her to take care of my needs while she was pregnant. What would happen after the baby was born? It would be cruel to just say thanks for all the sex, but I don’t need you anymore. I could maybe do that with someone I didn’t know very well, but not someone who we saw all the time. My wife just started laughing when I said that, then asked if that was the only problem. When I said it was the biggest problem, she said it wasn’t a problem at all then. Of course Esme would want me to keep visiting her, and she would have no problem with me doing that once a month or so after the baby was born. I just replied that I still didn’t think it was a good idea, and my wife threw her hands in the air in frustration, and dropped the subject.
Well, I found out a few days later, that my wife hadn’t quite dropped the subject, she’d just decided that talking to me about it was a waste of time. Instead, she took action to ensure the subject got settled the way she wanted it settled. So, when I got home from the gym at 10 on Friday, like I did three nights a week, my wife wasn’t home, which was extremely unusual. There was only a letter, addressed to me, sitting on the kitchen table. I say letter, because a note is short, and this was fully two pages long. It told me that she and my son would be spending the night at our old neighbor’s house, and wouldn’t be back until sometime the next afternoon. Then it went on to say a lot of things that my wife would never have said in person, either because she’d be too shy, or because they’d make me mad or hurt me.
She started by saying she understood that I didn’t want to cheat on her, and she loved me for that. But, she also refused to let me go without sex until the baby was born. Maybe that’s the way things worked in America, but after living in this country for more than 20 years, I should know they didn’t work that way here. In Turkey, if a wife wouldn’t or couldn’t take care of her husband’s sexual needs, it was perfectly acceptable for a man to get a mistress. She was glad that I hadn’t felt the need for one so far, but things had changed. She was no longer able to give me what I needed, and wouldn’t be able to for at least the next six months. And, while it might not seem important to me, it was very important to her that my needs get taken care of. Plus, if any of her friends ever found out that she hadn’t done something to make sure I was taken care of, they’d never stop reminding her of what a bad wife she was.
That’s why Esme was more than willing to sleep with me. Not only would she get the sex she wanted, and maybe even needed, she’d also be helping her be a good wife. And, while people might say bad things about her if Esme started bringing men to her apartment or going to theirs, no one would say anything about her doing this. Being a mistress for a man who’s wife wasn’t taking care of him, or a temporary lover in cases like ours were perfectly acceptable in Turkish society. True, in our situation, the sex should stop when we were able to make love again. But, no one would complain if it didn’t as long as it started for the right reasons.
Then my wife went on to say that if that wasn’t reason enough for me, she was going to give me one that might change my mind. While it was acceptable for a man to have a mistress, it wasn’t really acceptable for a married woman to have sex with other men. Yet, that’s all I talked about when we were making love, how much I wanted her to fuck other men. And, when she protested that she couldn’t cheat on me, I’d always tell her it wasn’t cheating if she had my permission to do it. But, what had I just told her when she said the same thing to me, that I had the right to be with other women. I’d told her it would still be cheating, even with her permission. So, which one was the truth, and which one was the lie? Was it cheating if you had permission or not? If it was cheating, why would I tell her it wasn’t when I wanted her to do it? And if it wasn’t cheating, why would I say it was when she said it? Or was saying that just an excuse because I wasn’t man enough to make love to another woman?
Now, did I want to know why she told me no whenever I said I wanted her to be with other Van Escort Bayan men? It wasn’t because she thought it would be cheating, because she’d read about swingers, and knew they didn’t think it was if both of them did it. And, it wasn’t because she didn’t like the idea of having sex with other men. She liked the idea a lot, and had many dreams of doing that. And if I wanted the truth, she even had a list in her head of some men she’d like to start with. No, the reason she always refused to do it was because I only ever talked about her doing things. I never talked about me wanting to do things with other women, or about bringing women to our bed the way real men did. If I wanted to be the kind of man who just liked to masturbate while his wife fucked other men, she wouldn’t help me.
Now, if I did want other women too, but I’d been trying to keep her from being jealous by not talking about it. Or, if in my culture men talked the way I did to get their wives to talk about wanting to see them fuck women too, then it was ok. And, if that was really what I wanted, for us both to fuck other people, whether at the same time or on different nights, she’d love to try that when she got back in shape after the baby. But, after what I’d been telling her for the past couple of weeks, she wouldn’t believe me if I just said that. If I wanted us to do those things, I’d have to prove that I wanted us both to do them, not just for her to do them by herself. And all I had to do to prove it was to prove to her that I was man enough to fuck other women.
Of course, had I gone out and fucked someone, like Esme for example, as soon as she explained that I had the right to do so, I wouldn’t have to prove anything. Now though, since I’d given her reasons to doubt me, I owed it to her not just to prove her wrong, but to also erase any doubts she might have. That would take a little more than me just fucking one girl one time. As a matter of fact, the more girls I fucked between now and when the baby was born, the more convinced she’d be. But, since I hadn’t even known I had the automatic right to fuck other women, once she couldn’t take care of my needs, she was going to take it a little easy on me. So, if I really wanted us to do those things, I only had to fuck four different women between now and then, although I would have to fuck at least one of them every week. And to make sure she could trust me, she also wanted all the fucking on film. She was sure I could handle that much, especially since she was going to give me a little help to get started.
Esme would be the first of the four lovers I needed, and she would be ringing our doorbell at 1130, so I needed to be ready. She already knew about the camera, and it was already set up, so all I had to do was turn it on. But, this would be the only time it would happen in our bed, because she wanted me to be as comfortable as possible the first time. After this, I would do it at the woman’s apartment or in a hotel, so she and our son wouldn’t have to leave the house. I would still need three other women, even if I fucked Esme every week. Though, if I needed help finding them, Esme had said she knew plenty of divorced women who’d be more than happy to volunteer. Now, I could still refuse to do this, and send Esme home when she rang the bell. But if I did send her home, not only would she never do the things I kept wanting her to do, she’d also never let me talk about them again. The choice was mine.
My wife had me in a box, and she knew there was no way I’d send Esme home now. She’d been right in knowing how badly I wanted the things I talked about when we made love. And she’d been been right about two of the reasons I didn’t talk about fucking other women. One being not wanting to hurt her or make her jealous, the other being if I talked about her and other men, maybe she’d talk about me and other women. And, if she had talked about me and other women back when we could fuck, I might have given her the proof she needed long ago. Then again, maybe not, because of the third reason I didn’t talk about wanting to fuck other women. And, it was why I was still nervous about what would happen tonight. What my wife had said before, and what she’d just written, had eliminated the first two reasons. How could she be jealous when she was practically ordering me to fuck other women, not just talking about it. But the third reason was still there, and my wife would know what it was as soon as she watched the tape.
That’s because it would quickly become obvious that I didn’t know how to fuck a woman. I knew how to make romantic love to a woman, and that’s all I knew. I don’t mean I could only have sex with a woman I loved or that I’d automatically fall in love with a woman if I had sex with her. I mean that the only way I knew how to have sex was with a lot of kissing and caressing. I didn’t know how to just do the sex parts, without the rest of it. And, if I tried to fuck a girl without the kissing and touching, I probably wouldn’t be able to do anything at all. I knew that to my wife this was only supposed to be sex, and nothing else, so Escort Van I knew I’d end up disappointing her with the way I made love. And, I’d probably end up disappointing Esme for the same reason, because she’d be expecting me to just take her, not make love to her. But, like I said, my wife had me in a box because I did want the things I talked about. And, despite my fears, I did want to fuck Esme, and had thought about it many times, even without the box. I just knew that I was going to fuck everything up and that naturally made me nervous.
Even after taking a long hot shower, I was still a nervous wreck when the doorbell eventually rang. But the sight that greeted me when I opened the door helped a whole lot, even if it didn’t get rid of all the butterflies in my stomach. I mentioned before that Esme was 5 years older than my wife. What I didn’t mention was that I’m 20 years older than my wife, which meant Esme was still 15 years younger than me. And while, as I said before, she’s not as beautiful as my wife, she’s still a good looking woman with a nice body. She was wearing what we call a peasant dress, which is kind of summer dress that I happen to like. And, I guess my wife had told her about my preference for little or no makeup, because all she had was a little eyeshadow and nothing else. What really took my mind off my worries though, was what she was obviously wearing under her dress.
That is, she was wearing nothing at all, because there were no panty lines, and I could clearly see her nipples pressing against the material. Yet, even though she was dressed in a way that said she came here to fuck, I didn’t know how I should greet her. Should I kiss her lips lightly, should I try to French kiss her, or should I push her against the wall and pull down her dress without kissing her at all? In the end, I just gave her the standard two cheek kiss they give everyone here, and invited her to come with me to the kitchen.
Esme didn’t comment about the reception she’d gotten, she just followed me to the kitchen and accepted the beer I offered her. She also didn’t try to rush things or ask stupid questions like whether I was attracted to her or not. She just talked to me the same way she always did when she came to our house, about the subjects we always talked about. She did, however, pay attention to the fact that my eyes kept drifting to look at the outline of her nipples. And every time they did, she’d shyly smile at the attention I was giving them, and push her chest out just a little to give me a better look.
After a few minutes of nothing happening, I think she figured out that I didn’t know how we were supposed to start this thing. So, she asked if I could turn on some music because she felt like dancing and wondered if I’d mind dancing with her. And naturally, when I showed her the music I had on my computer, she picked all slow songs which would force us to dance close together. As she had known, that was all it took to get things moving on the right path. Because once she was in my arms, and swaying to the music, my instincts took over and we were soon kissing and touching each other all over. Which I guess answered the question of whether or not she was into romantic sex.
From there it was a short journey to the bedroom, and even the sight of the tripod with the camera did nothing to lessen my sexual desire. As a matter of fact, the only thought that went through my mind, as I stopped to push the record button, was that I hoped this was what my wife really wanted because I was definitely going to give her something to watch. And I started that show by undressing Esme as slowly and romantically as I could, considering that she only had on one piece of clothing. She wasn’t complaining about me taking my time though, because my tongue never stopped moving across her skin as I did so. Instead, she was moaning through most of it, especially with the amount of time I spent working on the nipples I’d been staring at before. Now, I’d be lying if I said she had a perfect body, then again mine’s not perfect either. But, the slight sag in her tits, and the little bit of cellulite she had, did nothing to change the fact that she was someone I was going to love fucking.
I’ll never understand what’s wrong with Turkish men, because like every Turkish girl I’ve ever been with, no one had ever eaten Esme’s pussy before. And, like all of them, she protested at first, then once I got started quickly grabbed my head to keep me there. That’s probably one of the biggest reasons I love eating pussy, because women enjoy it so much, and I enjoy making women happy. Unlike my wife, Esme had no problem letting me lick her to several orgasms instead of just one. And, I had no problem licking her as long as she wanted me to, because as I said, I really do love eating pussy. As for fucking though, my wife is more responsive than Esme was. Oh, she didn’t just lay there, but she didn’t move very much either, except for right before she came. She did, however, manage to have her third fucking orgasm just as I started filling her cunt with sperm. And after that, she did something else that my wife doesn’t do, and that was lick my cock clean of our combined juices. Not to get me hard again, because she needed time to rest herself too. She just said that cleaning my cock that way was way more fun for her than using a towel would be.
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