Chapter 7 Fuck Me Hard

• Lance to Deb: You know you can tell me anything, Deb. I wish I could help you. I mean, physically. I'll never push it any further than you say, but you're too beautiful a woman to have to play with yourself to achieve a climax. Does he know you use the vibrator when he's not around?"
• Deb to Lance: "No, and he never will. How can I tell him he doesn't do it for me in bed anymore; hasn't for a long time. That I have to use a big vibrator and shove it in there way further than he ever gets to climax. I fake it with him, but sometimes I think he must be able to tell the difference."
• Lance to Deb: "You think you'll be able to go on like this forever?"
• Deb to Lance: "What choice do I have? We've been married for 17 years. We have two children. He's done everything he can to keep me happy. I know there nothing in this world I could ask him to do for me that he wouldn't do. The hell of it is, he's such a good man. And I should love him a lot more than I do. Don't misunderstand me, I do love him. Even though you and I flirt sometimes, and maybe I carry it further than a middle aged married woman should, I know you know that I love him. If it wasn't that I loved him, I'd –"
• Lance to Deb: "Don't say it. Don't write it. I know what you're thinking. But, I know you love him. You love him, not me. And I'm not going to be the guy that breaks you two up."
• Deb to Lance: "I know you could have...well, you know If you were an asshole like a lot of the younger guys around here are. But you've been a gentleman, a good man. That's why I like you so much. I'll just say that I hope you know just how special a friend you've become. And now I'll sign off."
• I thought the screen had suddenly become blurry and then I realized my eyes were filled with tears. It was one of those moments when you wonder why you can't just have a heart attack and get it over with.
• My wife was falling, had fallen, in love with another man. The beautiful blonde I'd cum inside of for so many years wanted another man's cock inside her. She all but admitted it. And he knew he could have her, and I knew and I knew she knew he was going to have her. She was just trying to gather the courage to fall into his bed. And once that happened, our marriage was over.
• The fucker was 10 years younger than me, had rock hard abs and my wife drooling over him and admiring his restraint for not throwing her down and fucking her. Jesus, he had her every which way. And I was a fat, balding, middle-aged bore whose dick had shrunk to the point that I couldn't even get my wife off anymore. There wasn't even any suspense here.
• I forced myself to keep reading. There weren't many incriminating messages after that last one. Then I found one from Deb to her Lancelot dated two weeks ago.
• Deb: "I'm sorry I didn't come by for lunch today, Lance. I meant to call and give you some lie about being busy or something coming up at the last minute, but then I found I just couldn't lie to you like that. We've become TOO good friends. You deserve the truth.
• "I've decided we need to cool it, back up a bit. I know that you consider me a friend, but I also know you're sexually attracted to me. That's flattering. You're a hunk, a beautiful young hunk, and you have no idea how much you've flattered my ego by flirting with me. But I always made it clear that I was a married woman – a faithful married woman.
• "Notice I didn't say a happily married woman. You know me too well for me to say that. I've been a lot more honest with you about my marriage and the problems we're having than I should have been, than I would have been with anybody else.
• "The worst of it is, I feel so much closer to you than I do to Bill. He's my husband, but he doesn't even know our marriage is dying slowly. He's clueless. Such a smart, smart man, so skillful in the courtroom, but in real life, in our marriage, he's a loser. He's lost my lust, and my respect and slowly he's losing my love.
• "I feel like an animal caught in a trap. I've tried a thousand times to think of some way to start breathing life back into our relationship, our marriage. I've thought about trying to invigorate our sexual life. But...dammit, I'm not that good an actress. I fake orgasms all the time, but I can't fake excitement. And he doesn't excite me any more.
• He's gone to pot and his dick doesn't feel or look as big and hard as it was. He doesn't get anywhere near as excited as I remember. He used to strip me and throw me down and fuck me hard. Now, he squeezes my breasts, licks me and then rolls on and pumps for a little while, gets off, and rolls over.
• "It doesn't matter how smart he is, or how good an attorney, as a man, a male animal, he is not satisfying me anymore. And hasn't for a long long time. I wonder sometimes, if he even misses the hot sex we used to have. I think maybe he's content to be a father and a successful attorney and climb off and on me once or twice a month and get his rocks off.
• "I always knew he was – sedate – dull I guess. He wasn't a party animal in college, and I used to love dancing and partying, the more the better. But it's gotten worse as he's gotten older. He has to be dragged to parties and he only goes when there's some political reason to be seen there. He doesn't dance, or doesn't like to.
• "I've made a life without him. A lot of times when I tell him I'm at a faculty meeting, I'm out with some girls from school, or girls and guys like the times we've gone out dancing. I haven't done anything wrong, but I want to be someone other than a wife and mother for a few hours. I want to have men look at me and admire me. I wish to God I wanted him to be one of those men, but I really don't care anymore. I don't think of him that way.
• "I can't fake being excited in bed and I can't tell him I've been going out and partying without him, even though I haven't done anything wrong with men, because what do I say when he asks me why I lied about where I was going? Do I tell him I'm happier when he's not around? It's the truth, but it would go over like a lead balloon.
• "Anyway, Dear Friend, I didn't mean to write a novel here. I just wanted to let off some steam and let you know why we won't be having lunch or seeing each other much anymore. Somehow, somehow I feel like things are getting ready to explode, to change. I don't know how. I don't know what I might do. But I don't think I can go on much longer like this.
• "And if – if the worst, or best, happens and I'm not married in a few months or more, I don't want you to be anywhere near the wreckage. I don't want anybody, Bill or my kids, or our friends, to suspect that our relationship, our friendship, had anything to do with my marriage ending.
• "Because it didn't. You've been a gentleman and a friend when I needed a friend. You will always have a piece of my heart and if I – somehow – work things out with Bill, I will never forget you and I hope you go on to have a happy life. Your friend always, Debbie."
• I must have sat there for hours because the next thing I knew, the quality of the light coming in from outside had changed. I glanced at the clock. It was 6 p.m. I don't even know what I'd been thinking about during those hours. I think I must have been envisioning the way my life was going to turn out.
• I wondered what it would be like coming home to an empty house or apartment when Debbie was with another man. What it would be like to see my kids only occasionally and I wasn't even sure that would happen. What would it be like to lie in a bed and for the first time in half my life, lie there alone and not hear her breathing beside me? What would it be like not to be able to put a hand out and rest it on the soft skin of her arm or shoulder. How would I shop for groceries for just me?