Her crooked smile was just comical enough to break my mood, and I was excruciatingly grateful for that. I swept her into a hug, spilled the soup, knocked the cheese off of her lap, and used the distraction to adroitly remove her blouse and bra. When my lips made contact with her engorged nipple, her sigh was both exciting and strangely calming.Instead of the usual, teenage, wild, sweaty, panting sex, we were in no hurry and I spent a good hour bringing her to the pinnacle of her pleasure so many times that we both lost count. Maureen came until she simply went limp, unable to speak, blink, or otherwise communicate. Rather than take advantage of someone so completely spent, I held her naked body in my arms and crooned soft words of comfort into her ear, while inwardly praying she would recover enough to continue what we started.Maureen was a bit of a blond. Her hair had lots of brown highlights, along with some in between hues. I would guess her hair was defined by a number printed on. She enjoyed it but did not take any active role in it. At other times, she became aggressive and dominating, almost masculine in her behavior, forcing me into a completely feminine and passive role. It was always one extreme or the other. Intimacy and shared lovemaking seemed not to exist for her anymore. Because of the lack of intimacy and lack of tenderness involved, it was frustrating, and demeaning for me. Even though I cannot remember a strong decrease in the frequency, our sex life seemed minimal. It was there, but without emotion.My college estimate of three months had been wrong by about two years and three months. I'll never know the exact date of when she first disregarded her marriage vow of fidelity. All I'll ever know is how I found out.I will always remember that day clearly. It was a Wednesday. I had returned from work and found Andrea already come and gone again.She had been in a hurry, showered and changed, then left in an obvious rush. Her clothes she left strewn.
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