Can a Bizarre Marriage Last?

I had my share of ass by the time that I was in graduate school in business. At that point I was interested in finding the right woman to marry and have kids with. I was 25 and only about a semester away from getting my MBA. I wasn't having any luck finding the right woman. I had found the perfect sex partner – who I also got along with extremely well – but she was marriage and child averse.

Josie was by far the best fuck that I had ever had; not just once in a while, but every single time. Sex with her was mind-blowing. In the two years that we had known each other, although we were not exclusive we had toe curling sex at least twice a week when we were in the same city, and oftentimes four or five times. We even went on two fuck fests masquerading as vacations together.

What made Josie the best were three things. She was the most passionate person (in everything, not just sex) that I had ever met; she loved body contact and experimentation; and her pussy and my dick were virtually molded for one another. While I'm about six feet tall, 170 pounds, I don't have the biggest dick – probably an inch smaller than what I have heard is average for an adult American male, and slightly less than average diameter. Josie, who is about 5 ft. 2 inches and 110 pounds, has a small pussy, even for her size.

Josie and I are both extremely flexible. We both were gymnasts when we were younger, and when I outgrew that I took up diving and was good enough in high school to get a partial diving scholarship in college. Josie took up surfing when she phased out gymnastics. Our flexibility, combined with our exceptionally high libidos, make it so that we consistently have multiple intense orgasms when we get together for "workouts," as Josie likes to call them.

I tried for a good fourteen months to figure out a way to get Josie to change her attitude about exclusive relationships and kids, but to absolutely no avail. For whatever reasons – which she never volunteered – she was resolute. "Hey Blake – I have no problem with fucking you the rest of your life; you're my best ever. However, I'll never agree to be exclusive and I'll never have kids with anyone. If those are requirements for you, you're in for major league disappointment."

It was about the time that I had resigned myself to the fact that I would have to forget about Josie as a marriage partner, but simply continue to enjoy sex with her while looking for "Miss Right," when a friend of mine solicited my help. Jack was getting his PhD in Psychology at the same university where I was getting my MBA. He talked me into being a participant in a study on male-female relationships that he was a co-author of. "Look, Blake, you have nothing to lose by participating. While it will take about two-three hours you'll be paid $75 and your forms and interviews will remain anonymous. Plus you can fill out the forms and be interviewed whenever it is convenient for you – so just give up one Friday night party and you'll help yourself and get some spending money."

"You're a good salesman, Jack," I laughed. "OK; maybe this Friday night I'll take you up on it." This got a big smile from Jack as he handed me a paper with the relevant information on "where," "how," and "why" on it.

The test was peculiar. It had many questions that I had never even thought about, let alone had quick answers to, about virtually every aspect of male-female relationships. One question asked me to list in order twenty named characteristics that I was looking for in a marriage partner; another asked me the best quality about every girl/woman I had ever gone on more than one date with since I was eighteen; others were "what would you do" problems which gave various scenarios and had decision trees based upon the answers.

By the time I finished the written test I was mentally drained, however I was strongly encouraged to do the interview right afterward. During the interview electrodes were hooked up to various parts of my body, and wires were connected to two different machines which I was told were lie and stress detectors [I have no idea if that was true]. Then I was interviewed by a middle aged woman with enormous knockers that were barely contained by her top, a gay guy, someone who appeared to be a gum-chewing teenage girl (she might just have looked young for her age), a large male athlete with a booming voice, and a naked average looking (except that she had the hairiest bush that I had ever seen) twenty-something woman.

I had no clue why different interviewers were used, or why some of them asked me basically the same questions, or why the last one was naked. I'm sure that some of my answers were peculiar, and I was completely exhausted after the interview ended – however apparently not exhausted enough that I didn't check out the ass of the last interviewer, which was by far her best feature, as she sashayed out the door.

Josie wanted to get together that night, but I told her I was totally beat. "Hey, dude, we don't have to fuck every time. Let me bring in a takeout dinner and we can watch some mindless TV, OK?"

"That would be great, Josie – you're better than I deserve."

She did bring dinner over. I told her about the written testing and inexplicable interview during dinner, and I thought she was going to have a coronary she laughed so hard. Actually, her good mood caused me to rally and we did end up fucking. Despite my fatigue it was a classic Josie top-notch fuck!

************

About three weeks after my test and interview, Jack excitedly pulled me aside in the Student Union. "Dude – I just have to ask you something. I hope that you're not pissed but I was able to identify your test, and have some truly far out news."

"Why would I be pissed? Take a chill pill and tell me what's up," I laughingly responded.

"There is a female test taker that had responses so near to yours that it was totally freaky. I know that you and Josie are never going to get married, and that you're anxious for a long term relationship and kids, so I thought – with your permission – that I'd track her down and see if she is interested in meeting you."

"Is there anything you can tell me about her?"

"Sorry – I can't – privacy rules require confidentiality without two-party consent. All I can say is that I know her to be good looking and she's your age."

I pondered the situation for all of about half of a second. "Sure; if she'd like to meet I'd love to meet her!"

Jack smiled broadly. "I lied a little – I already talked to her and she's willing to meet. How about Friday at 7:00 p. m. at Ruby's Bar and Grill?"

I chuckled. "Sure – what does she look like?"

"She'll be wearing a red dress, is blond, and is 5 feet 10 inches tall; you're to wear a blue shirt and jeans."

"I am, huh," I chuckled even louder. "OK yenta, I'll see her then."

"Hey dude, get your Yiddish right – a 'yenta' is a busy-bodied old woman; a male matchmaker is a 'shadchan,'" Jack snickered.

"You must have done this before," I snickered back, and then waved as we parted.

********************

Almost exactly at seven o'clock on Friday night a vision of loveliness sauntered into Ruby's Bar and Grill wearing a red dress that hugged her curves perfectly. Her blond hair was shiny and shoulder length, and she had a habit of flipping it over to the side as in her three inch heed she had to be over six feet tall as she obviously was turning her head looking for me. I approached her with a margarita in hand (Jack violated a confidence by telling me her favorite drink, but I knew that she wouldn't mind). "Hi; I'm Blake – blue shirt and jeans, same height as you with your three inch heels and my one inch heels on; I hope that I'm who you're looking for."

Her smile lit up the room. "Hi; I'm Amanda," she replied, taking the margarita from my right hand with her left, and then shaking my right hand with hers. "You look just like I pictured you."

"Not too much of a disappointment, then?" I chuckled.

"No – and how about you? Do I look like you pictured?" she smiled.

"Hell no! You're about three times as good looking as I pictured you, and even better looking than what I thought was possible!" I replied.

"Bullshitter," she laughed, "but a good start anyway; better than calling me a 'dog.'"

That Friday night was about the most socially interesting one of my life up to that point. By midnight I felt that I had known her for years, and I found out that Jack wasn't shitting me about how our ideas about many subjects were in sync. Her personality was so charming that I almost overlooked how beautiful she was – almost. She had probably the prettiest face and nicest smile of any woman I had seen live in my life, a big rack, a curvaceous body, and sexy mannerisms.

Amanda too was getting an MBA, from a college only twenty miles from the one I attended (and which was part of the psychology test that Jack was spearheading), and she lived halfway between there and Ruby's. In fact, we lived only about two miles apart.

When we left Ruby's at eleven we went dancing at a local club – I drove her there since she had taken Uber to Ruby's – and I discovered yet another fascinating thing about her – she was a great dancer. By 2 a.m. we were both wiped out and dripping with sweat, and we both had things to do the next morning and couldn't sleep in until noon, so I took her home.

"I really like you Blake," she said staring intensely into my eyes as we sat in my car in front of the apartment building she lived in. "I've honestly never felt closer to someone in a short period of time in my life."

I got a big shit-eating grin. "I sure would love to try a relationship with you," I announced; "let's exchange cellphone numbers and we can talk!"

We each handed the other our cellphone and entered our contact information, then I opened the passenger side door for her and we exchanged one of the most passionate kisses of my life, more passionate than any I had had except with Josie. I waited until I saw her get into her apartment and then called her cellphone.

"Hello..." she apprehensively answered.

"You're a goddess – when can I call you later today?" I responded.

"You're bad," she laughed. "Any time after I get six hours of sleep," and then we both cut off the call.

After that some things proceeded at lightning speed – others slowly.

What proceeded with lightning speed was intense attachment – either mutual love or bordering on it, I couldn't tell which in her case, but probably the former in my case. We seemed compatible in every way and were physically attracted to each other.

What proceeded slowly was sex. While we were physically demonstrative, holding, cuddling, and kissing most of the time that we were together, we hadn't had sex after six weeks of being with each other at least three times a week – a glacial period of time in modern male-female relationships. I wasn't sure why – I was a little reticent, and I sensed that in her too. My reticence was due to the fact that since Amanda and I never even had a conversation about being exclusive, and since Josie was always hot-to-trot and my feelings and lust for her had not diminished in any way so that I was well satisfied by her in the fucking and sucking department, I didn't see the need. Once we had "the talk" I would in all likelihood be giving Josie up, something hard to fathom at that point.

At the six week point, the time seemed right to take it to the next level. I gave Amanda enough hints – and she gave some right back to me – that now was the time that we didn't need to be blunt about it. We went out for a quick meal, took an arm-in-arm leisurely walk around a small lake near my apartment, and then went into my bedroom. I slowly undressed her as romantic music emanated from my Bose; she was truly lovely. She had big firm tits with hard nipples, a sleek torso, a naturally sparse bush, and a prominent clit. She then slowly undressed me. If I didn't know how normally kind and polite she was, I probably would not have recognized a small look of disappointment when my cock sprung out – but it was only on her face for a fraction of a second.

We stood kissing and stroking each other for a long while – then I gently laid her on my bed and went after her pussy with my lips, tongue, fingers, and even nose. Once I got up close and personal I'm sure that I would have had a slight look of disappointment too because her pussy was big, loose, and sloppy. That didn't stop me from giving her two obvious orgasms from my finger and mouth play by touching, pinching, licking, or probing every part of her outsized sex organ. However, when I penetrated her with my rock hard cock I realized that I wasn't going to be able to do the job unless I improvised; so I did.

Instead of fucking her missionary with normal movements, I pushed her thighs together so that her pussy was tighter, then I shinnied up on her so that during reciprocation of my cock it was in contact with her prominent clit a good portion of the time. I tried my best to manipulate or suck her tits while I pounded away, something that I found very enjoyable, and we reached a crescendo together.

I relatively quickly withdrew after my condom-less cock had deposited my load in her pussy, and we snuggled and ferociously kissed and ran our hands over each other's bodies for a long time. We finally stopped smooching and pawing and just stared into each other's eyes.

"I love you, Blake," she whispered.

"I love you, Amanda," I whispered back.

My mind was now ready for round two – however, she didn't indicate any desire to suck my cock hard, something that Josie always did after a first fuck. I turned Amanda on her hands and knees and as I was stroking her slack pussy with one hand I hardened myself with the other. Once she was cooing and I was hard again, I penetrated her and started pumping while stroking her clit with one hand and pinching a nipple with the other. Hard pumping in this position was difficult, but if I removed my hand from her clit it was apparent that she was not enjoying the action as much as she wanted to, so I did my best. I brought her to orgasm with my hands on her clit and tit shortly before my second load was deposited in her cunt.

When we separated we again exchanged kisses, hugs, and "I love yous," and then fell asleep in each other's arms.

We woke up at about 7 a. m. smiling. We showered together, washed off each other's entire bodies, went out for breakfast, and arranged to meet that evening for dancing with some friends.

*************

After a half-dozen nights together, spaced over about two weeks, all of which were much as I described above, several things were clear about our sexual encounters:

–We were actually in love with each other. Our exchanges had been highly mutually satisfying emotionally.

–Our private parts were not physically all that compatible (an understatement) since she had a big sloppy pussy and I had a smaller than average cock.

–While our libidos seemed to match OK, the physical intensity of our orgasms was mediocre.

–Our interests in experimentation, sucking, and other physical attributes of sex were quite distinct (as in I loved to experiment, have my dick sucked after fucking, and probing with toys whereas Amanda was clearly not interested in any of those activities).

In summary, on the physically satisfying scale, with Josie as a ten and someone who just lays there and barely has a reaction when she orgasms (such as my third date when I was an undergraduate – who I fucked on three separate occasions only because she looked good and it gave me status with my fraternity brothers) a one, physical satisfaction with Amanda was a five or six. Good, but not great by any means.

While our emotional relationship was proceeding gangbusters – we thoroughly enjoyed each other's company in everything that we did, and Amanda was anxious to both have a career and crank out three or four kids – I was reticent about making a commitment to exclusivity, and eventually marriage, because of the pedestrian physical aspects of sex with Amanda. While we didn't candidly talk about it, I could sense a similar reticence on Amanda's part.

It was getting close to graduate school graduation time for both of us; we had to come to some resolution soon in order to make plans for the future, since we both had job offers from probably six different cities. It took an unusual set of circumstances for the 800 pound gorilla issue to be addressed.

Two weeks before graduation we went to a party at the house of a young married couple that we both knew – they were our only mutual friends who had a house. Neither Amanda nor I usually drank alcohol much, and we got the punch with grain alcohol mixed up with the one with only a hint of rum. It wasn't long before we were both drunk, although not aware enough of how acute our condition was. The hostess, Barbara, was a perky uber-friendly woman who seemed to like attending weddings, and she was so small that the relatively minor amount of liquor that she had consumed had also seriously impacted the filter between her mind and mouth. With slurs, burps, and malapropisms removed the conversation went something like this:

Barbara: "So when are you two getting married? I can tell that you're in love."

Amanda: "Yes we are in love, Barbara, in fact intensely in love."

Me: "She's my dream woman in so many ways."

Amanda: "There's one small hang up however, giggle, giggle."

Barbara: "What? Giggle, giggle."

Amanda: "I don't want Blake to hear, cackle, cackle."

Barbara: "Whisper it to me, teehee, teehee."

Amanda in an easily overheard stage whisper: "There's another guy that I'm fucking who I don't really like but who provides me with much more intense orgasms, who I don't want to give up and I would never cheat if Blake and I are married, snicker, snicker."

Barbara, in an equally easily overheard stage whisper: "No shit – does he have a big cock? Chortle, chortle."

Amanda in an even more easily overheard stage whisper: "Fuck yeah, really big, guffaw, guffaw."

Me, loudly, at first angry, and then smiling: "Shit, you never told me that – course then again I never told you about my piece on the side either."

Amanda: "Did you hear me, Blake? You weren't supposed to be listening, giggle, giggle."

Me: "I could have heard you twenty feet away, snicker, snicker."

Amanda, with her hands on her hips (actually close to it since she wasn't cognizant enough to get them exactly there) and a stern expression, and without any "giggle, giggle": "What's this about some slut on the side."

Me: "She has a tight pussy and likes to suck my cock; I would have asked you to marry me already except I don't want to give her up, and certainly would never cheat if we got hitched."

Barbara was now leaning in closely, ears as alert as a jack rabbit's in coyote territory. We both saw her interest, causing us to almost simultaneously stand. We grabbed each other's hand, and said "Let's talk privately," and moved away.

"Damn, damn," a clearly drunk and frustrated Barbara grunted as we walked away.

We had as intelligent and frank a talk as two slovenly drunks could have. Almost every sentence either of us uttered was followed by "I love you," but there was no doubt that neither of us was satisfied with the physical aspects of our relationship. After our talk, we got a ride to my apartment, and slept it off in my bed, fully clothed.

Both Amanda and I were chagrined when we woke up the next day. Whether fortunately, or unfortunately, we both remembered the essence of our conversations the night before. We ignored it by making breakfast together, small talk, and a giggly but no-sex shower together. Then I was as blunt as I had ever been in my life when sober.

"Amanda, I truly love you – I am complete only when you're around. I want to get married, but we both obviously need help in dealing with our physical middling encounters. I don't have a ready solution, but I want to try and find one."