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I didn't remind her she had told me all her workshops were in the morning.
She justified not taking me by saying she'd be busy working, conducting workshops and giving presentations. Sue, her friend, had told us she had given her husband permission to date and sleep with whomever while he was away on a year long sabbatical, finishing and defending his dissertation, saying that's what she'd do.That last fact didn't seem to matter to her, or the fact that we may have had less than ten hours of sleep since I arrived Friday.One weekend she counted her orgasms; she hit number sixty-five just before I walked out the door.By the end of September, the frequency was down to twelve to fifteen times a year.We were married, to the day, seven and a half years. At the time, I was in grad school, on a fellowship. I had arranged with a sheltered workshop to use some of their clients and staff in my research. It started with drinks, and some frank conversations, after work.We went, stayed with her grandparents, sharing a bed over their objections, which she simply ignored.
The show was fantastic, plus we also got to see the Wright exhibit (the architect, not the fliers) they have.
The last Spring we were still married, she took a week's leave to go to a conference in Cincinnati.
Beth had family in Chi-town, so I asked her if she'd like to see the exhibit.
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Yeah, I cheated on my first wife, Carol, with my second wife, Beth, and a few other women of no consequence, and no import to this story; maybe some other time. From September to the following July, the year before we were married, I spent practically every weekend buried in her cunt from seven o'clock Friday evening until two or three o'clock Monday morning.
Then I had to get up and drive eighty miles to be to work at eight-thirty.
Sometimes we were together for a couple of months, sometimes a couple of hours.