“Wow! I never heard of that,” Marisol laughed. “Is that how you got interested in him?”
“No, I met him by chance at a frat party.”
“Ok, I’m stunned. Continue.”
“And of course, they kept going back to him,” I continued. “So Paul was a very busy boy in college. That was his idea of far out and exciting. But being conventional and preppy himself, Paul was pretty vanilla in his sex habits when we met.”
Marisol sat back and waited for more.
“But?” she said as I took a sip of my drink. “What next?”
“Since then, Paul has ebbed off. We only have sex in the bedroom and have to be quiet for the kids not to hear. I get the last part, but we can get a sitter and do it elsewhere. Put some excitement in our life.”
“I could have helped out if you guys lived closer.”
“There are times I wish we did,” I sighed. “Maybe Garry, you and my parents would have been a good influence on Paul. He is just so closed off and… hear this. I asked if he would like to go to a nudist beach, and he recoiled. He was like ‘I don’t want anyone seeing your body naked.’ He would not even entertain the notion. Not even considering all the naked women that HE could see or those that would see him.”
“What’s the problem? Does he have a small dick?”
“No. Not really. Paul is just over six inches when hard. He makes me cum just fine when he sets his mind to it. I don’t think all men at nudie beaches are above average, are they?”
“No, but the scene does attract people who like to show off, and usually that means people who have something they are proud of. Still, some men think they have to be gigantic to show their cock in public. Kind of like women with small titties,” Marisol touched her boobs. “We are too obsessed with size.”
“Size can have its time and place,” I replied. “Other than Garry, I had a couple of guys that were big. I liked being filled up and pounded. But there is more than that in a man.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t go for a bigger one, Paula. What was the attraction to Paul then?”
“I get off no matter the dick size, so that was not important to me. I liked Paul before we fucked. He is handsome, a good man and….”
“So husband material for conventionals,” Marisol smirked as she interrupted. “Not the kind for setting fires down below, was he?”
“Paul made me cum,” I replied defensively.
“Made? Not makes. That speaks volumes, Paula.”
“You’re right. But then how many men are like your Garry? Not many in my experience.”
“I’m not talking just size Paula, and you know it. I know men who are good and are the same size as your man or even smaller. It’s what they do with it. Hell, what am I doing explaining it? You know this already.”
“Yeah, I do,” I said, admitting it. “All too well.”
I had been with enough men to find out both how few were large and how few actually knew how to be good lovers. Size and quality together were often rarer than the two attributes alone.
“OK. So Paul needs a boost. You can work with him, can’t you?”
“I’ve tried. It’s just not working anymore.”
“Where there is a will, there is a way, Paula.”
“Marisol. There is something else I have to tell you.”
Marisol crossed her arms and stared at me sternly.
“Paula… Did you cheat on him?”
As open-minded as Marisol and her husband were about their sex life, they detested cheating. Nothing was a secret between them. There is a misconception that swingers or people in open marriages embrace cheating. In my experience, it was never further from the truth. If anything, considering they allowed their spouse to have lovers, there was no reason to cheat in their view. And honesty was needed if they could pursue their lifestyle. My parents have become converts to the concept and no longer cheated or lied to each other about their lovers.
“Not exactly. Not cheating as most would think.”
“What the hell does that mean? Either you did, or you didn’t.”
“OK,” I sighed. “I told you how men hit on me at parties, cookouts, and such, right?”
“And?” she was still not letting me off the hook.
“Well, it’s a good ego boost to know I still have it. Although, to be honest, I never lost it, and men have been hitting on me since I was young. I even had some do it when I was pregnant.”
“Pervs,” she smirked. “I’ve heard that some men are into that.”
“Not Paul,” I retorted. “During my pregnancies, he was doing me as if I was a delicate flower. While I wanted a good fuck.”
“I’ve heard of that. What’s it called?”
“Madona Syndrome.”
She giggled at the name.
“The men I talked to wanted to bang a pregnant woman, Paula.”
“Probably not their wife,” I replied, making her laugh.
“So you had bad sex during your pregnancy,” Marisol rolled her eyes. “Poor you.”
“No, I had good sex. Just not with Paul.”
“With whom?”
“There was a friend I had in college who was available. Sex only. It’s all I needed.”
“You weren’t married then. Were you?” Marisol said, remembering correctly.
“No, but I don’t think Paul would see it that way had he found out. Or if he did now. He is not the type that would. So keep that to yourself.”
Marisol crossed herself and kissed her fingers.
“I’m taking it to the grave.”