The topic of the day : Why does his wife not do all the stuff she used to do? Back in the day, boy...*whew!*, Mrs. Johnny-boy was a minx! When he met her during his sophomore year of college, he couldn't believe how he had lucked out with this girl. Not only was she the coolest chick ever, she was hot, too! She wasn't just cute, she wasn't just pretty, she was nails. Sex was frequent, almost like it was on tap! And not only that, she actually seemed to..to....like it. And the blow jobs....Oh, how she'd blow him anytime, anywhere. He recalled all those times they'd be walking through one of the commons on campus, she'd give him a look, a friendly bump with her hip, and that was all he'd need to take her hand and race to the men's room where she couldn't buckle her knees fast enough to service him. He remembered it, all of it....how he'd be standing with his back against the wall, leaning slightly because his legs were quivering and not entirely stable...he'd look down at this one-of-a-kind girl as she sucked him off because she wanted to. He'd think to himself in moments like this, and in moments like the movie theater parking lot...when the midnight movie was ever and everyone herded out of the theater and into their cars. They'd all start their cars up and proceed with their journey home. But not him, and not his spectacular girlfriend. He'd dig in his pocket for his keys as they stood outside the old SUV's door when he'd notice she's not waiting at the front passenger door....she's waiting at the back door. He'd think to himself during those times in the men's room, in the back seat of his car in the movie theater parking lot while giving this girl the pounding of the century, complete with her feet planted on the ceiling...or, when they jostled like knotted sardines in a can, her tits slammed up against the side window with him going to town behind her...that this...this is the kind of chick he could actually marry.
Surely, there is no other chick like this. "Holy shit, Johnny, I fuckin' love you..." she'd whisper after she climaxed, the moisture of her sequential waves of heavy breathing condensing on the window in front of her face...he remembered that he could see it from behind her. Big white blotches of fog on the window in front of her, panting as she gradually caught her breath. He'd pull himself out, careful to use his beloved Nautilus polo-like shirt to clean up and catch any girl goo or guy goo that would be forth coming. But he didn't care. That shirt was replaceable, after all, and this experience with an amazing sex kitten who was cooler than any chick he'd met...was not.
'Those were the days...', he thought to himself. It was a great 18 months...long enough, he figured, to wait before considering marriage or even engagement. 18 months is long enough to really know who someone is, right? Johnny thought so, he was being smart about it. Starting in the beginning of senior year, she would start to talk about after college. What was the plan? Was there a plan? Were they just going to continue to date? She'd already said on countless occasions during sex, sometimes after, that she could "totally marry" him...so he knew she wanted to be with him, and he knew he felt the same way. And at 18 months, this chick who was fun to go anywhere with, do anything with, just couldn't get enough of him, of sex, of sucking him off, of squeezing his head between her thighs....this chick was the one he wanted. It'd always be like this....
Well, maybe a little different...instead of meeting up for a redezvous in the commons restrooms in between classes, it'd be a quickie during lunch hour from their respective jobs...then the main dish when they'd get home from work. Why would anything ever change? They graduated in 5 months, time to get the ring...no reason to keep a girl like this waiting. Maybe be engaged for a year or so, maybe live together after college, maybe not. They'd figure that out after summer. But this was going to be awesome, he'd done it right. So the ring...the ring was purchased, and the proposal happened.
"Fuckin' A..." Johnny said to himself as he accelerated from one of the myriad stoplights that prolonged his trip home. "Man, what happened to that chick?" He was frustrated...he opened his glove compartment, and reached in. Found what he was looking for...."ah, there you are, my pretties." He removed a cigarette from the pack he had stashed for just such deep thought occasions in the car. Lit it, took a long drag...'back to it', he though...'back to see where it went south'
That summer, which began with their graduation from college, Johnny and that girl would go out with their friends quite a bit. Everyone would congratulate them on their engagement, ask them what their plans are...he and his girlfr-.....oops...his fiancee, were the center of attention among their groups of friends. He was pretty excited, he had to admit. He didn't have those wedding jitters that men were often accused of having. He felt pretty damn cool about it all. When fall had arrived, they were out in full force, hunting for jobs. It was almost a full time job sifting through all the postings...driving to interviews...driving to second interviews....even third interviews at some places. But at night, they'd be unbridled. "Hold on a minute, baby....", she'd say..."We're gonna need to a place to live." She'd say that a lot...every time he'd meet her at her parents house, or she at his. They'd be in the basement or their bedrooms, parents know that two people at that age, engaged, aren't to be bothered, and were to be given their...um...space? privacy? src='
'But they needn't have bothered', Johnny thought as he flicked the cigarette out the window. She'd grab his wrist, and pull his hand off her ass...or down from under her shirt, much to his confusion. He'd been thinking about her all day, sans clothes. "What kind of apartment do you think we should get? A studio? A loft? Or just a regular one bedroom?", she'd ask as she let go of his wrists once his hands were placed at his side. "I dunno...anything is fine.". She smiled, "I know, but I don't know what we should get. Where do you think we should live? In the city? Or the suburbs?" Johnny would think for a moment, "I...I really don't have a preference."
It was clear she was on a mission to hunt for where they'd live. So they rolled off her bed, he followed her over to her desk she'd obviously had since she in junior high. The laptop she had used in college was on it.....they went online, and shopped for apartments.
---End of Part 1---
And so it begins....The descent. Or, more appropriately, the decrescendo....The long journey most men have that ends up in the same place. It's the place that those guys are in, the ones who join SF and post threads about why their wives aren't the cock-craving turbo sluts that'd rival any porn star that they used to be before they were married.
I'm not going to lie to you guys...Johnny is pretty close to being shit outta luck. But Johnny isn't a dumb guy, and though he doesn't know it yet, he's not without resources. This is going to be the trail of bread crumbs that will lead men back to the day that we refer to as "back in the day", or "those were the days". I haven't decided whether or not Johnny-boy makes it back along the trail of bread crumbs...we'll see. But I will show you the bread crumbs, fellas, those of you reading this. Much like horses led to water but cannot be made to drink, I cannot make anyone follow the trail of bread crumbs. It's up to you to follow it, or reject it for the sake of appeasing the androgynes and the angry. Decide from whom you seek approval, if anyone...decide if you are going to pursue approval, if at all. If you seek approval, from anyone whatsoever, you need not read the forthcoming Parts 2, 3, etc, as you'll probably be better off reading The Twilight Saga or some shit. Part 2 is will be posted shortly...for men's eyes only. src='