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Copyright © 2017 by Guy New York
Published by QNY
Interior design by Pronoun
Distribution by Pronoun
Watching My Wife
About The Author
Kelly’s father still slaps her ass.
I don’t know what it says about him, but I do know something about her. After dating for two years, it was clear to me that Kelly was incredibly good at getting what she wanted. With her father, it meant that she never really grew up. She could still get him to write checks by crawling into his lap and kissing him on the cheek. If she needed a new fall coat it was “I miss Daddy” in a letter with a heart on it, and when we moved in together he was the one who made sure his little girl had a big enough place to include a guest room. She laughed whenever I brought it up saying he just liked to spoil her and besides where was the harm?
It took me longer to see how it worked with other people, but even then it was something I admired about her. Kelly made use of every advantage she had, and it worked for her. Her friends followed her lead, her boss bent over backward to make sure she was happy, and then, of course, there was me. I treated her like a princess, and it worked for both of us. I loved to see her smile, and I was willing to do most anything to make sure she got what she wanted.
She was a twenty-year-old college student when we met, and the fact that she wanted to spend time with a thirty-five-year-old marketing director was all I needed. I started taking her to the best restaurants in New York and within weeks we were seeing each other almost every day. I took her to shows and concerts, we walked the galleries in Chelsea, and at night she climbed into bed with me, and we fucked until the sun came up. She was blonde and petite with an appetite that was big as it was new. There were a few boyfriends before me, but her sexual education wasn’t very extensive.
At first, it was easy. She was almost always willing, and I found new ways to keep us going all the time. I tied her up with my belt and took her over my knee for spankings. She loved to struggle and play the brat, and the longer we spent together the more fun we had. In the first month we went through more boxes of condoms than I thought possible, and still, it was never enough. We licked, sucked, and fucked our way through her last year of college, and when she finally graduated, moved in with me, and said yes when I got down one knee, I was the happiest man in the world.
My friend’s teased me about her endlessly, from her age to her beauty, but it all rolled off me without sticking. She was perfect, she loved me, and I was so in love with her too that none of it mattered at all. They could be as jealous as they wanted, but the fact was, I had an amazing wife who still wanted to fuck my brains out at least three or four times a week.
Throughout our entire relationship, we were safe. She didn’t trust the pill, and so we used condoms like they were going out of style, even after we got married. It had been the same with her previous boyfriends, but once we finally tied the knot, I did start to go a little crazy. Every time I brought it up, she made an excuse of some sort, and before I knew what was happening she had changed the subject without it ever moving at all. It was a quirk, but I wonder if part of me knew it was a warning as well. I wonder if, even then, a small part of me knew.
Six months after the wedding we hit a slow period in our sex life. We were both busy and stressed, and while we crawled into bed with each other every night, it simply wasn’t the same. Most often she’d kiss me before rolling onto her side and putting on an eye mask to keep out the dim light in the room. We cuddled and caressed each other, but it had been weeks since we last had sex, and I wasn’t coping well.
“Maybe we need to do something new,” I said one night. We had climbed into bed with a bottle of wine and a movie, and it was clear nothing was going to happen.
“What do you mean, darling?” she said with a yawn as she poured herself a glass.
“I mean in bed. Maybe we need to spice it up. I don’t know, there has to be something we can do to get out of this slump.” I tried not to sound too desperate, but even to me, it sounded pathetic.
“It’ll get easier after we settle in,” she said, pulling up Netflix on the tv. “Let’s just watch a movie and get drunk.”
“Look, isn’t there anything that still sounds hot? I could tie you up again. Hell, you could tie me up, I don’t care. I just don’t believe we have to settle for this just because we’re tired. This isn’t like us.”
“I don’t want to be tied up, and tying you up sounds like work. I’m just tired and not feeling creative.” She flipped through the movies on our list, mostly ignoring me, clearly trying to move on from the conversation.
“Look, what would do it for you right now? I don’t care what it is. It can be anything, it doesn’t even have to involve me. Pretend I’m not even here. Just give me some fucking hint that you’re still a sexual person!” I wasn’t trying to raise my voice, but there it was all the same. She finally put the remote down and took a long sip of her wine.
“Anything at all?”