Even within the long wind down there are many flare ups when their affair burns bright again, like the night I described during Marie and Matt’s visit. Some of the main ones now, though, feature around sporting events, and particularly a running festival that Geoff and Sherrie attend for five consecutive years as she improves her standard time after time under his direction despite, obviously, being a year older on each occasion. There are three races over six days, and in between they set aside training and alone together time at a country hotel.
He drives her very hard from just after dawn each morning on the non-race days. She describes vividly how he often reduces her to tears with his unyielding demands in bringing out her last ounce of effort, but her competitive performance instinct responds positively. He doms her privately, usually involving strenuous bondage, in the long afternoons, and beds her after a protein rich meal each evening, leaving her alone, exhausted and sexually sated, with a pointed “straight to sleep” instruction by 9pm. She isn’t allowed television or other distractions. Surprisingly to me, it’s at the end of one of these full on trips that they agree their fling has run its course. She’s sad when she returns home and says he is too.
She comes into the house that evening and throws her arms around me.
S: It’s over. Look after me tonight.
J: Eh?
I’m being a bit thick today.
S: Geoff and me. The whole thing. It’s done. I’ve lost my Master.
Breaking our embrace, she collapses onto the sofa, just staring into space. Having unloaded her news she appears spent, mentally and physically.
J: How? What happened?
S: I’ve told you before that it was heading this way.
J: Yeah, but it has been since the fortnight from hell. You’ve been saying it since then at least, even before then, but it hasn’t stopped him regularly giving you the benefit and you lapping it up. So why now? Something must have tipped it over the edge.
I sit beside her, draw her to me to comfort her because she looks as though she needs it. She doesn’t immediately engage either with my touch or my words. She seems hollowed out emotionally.
J: Just tell me if it’s mutual or did one of you decide to end it?
At length, she looks at me, all watery eyes and flushed face. There’s been a lot of crying.
S: It’s tough, babe……. You know it is. You know how mixed up….. fucked up….. Always has been, really. He brought it up first, but we talked and talked into the night last night, and in the end we agreed we’d taken the best that it could ever be quite a while ago. It was an extremely moving conversation about what might have been. Things that I knew were in his head from before. You know what I mean, don’t you?
J: Yeah. I know what you mean. Dom you 24/7.
S: Yes, but tender, sensitive stuff too. Thoughtful. A side to him I haven’t often seen. You’re aware that he still thinks it’s my true destiny to submit myself totally to him. Says I was made for him, but he’s reconciled now that it will never be because I’m too tainted by my superficial life outside as he calls it.
J: He still tries to sell you that stuff?
S: It isn’t a cynical ploy though. He truly believes it. Thinks I was born to be his submissive and his plaything, and he was born to rule me and mould me to my highest fulfilment. His ideal is I dedicate my life to it and my only outside interest should be my running and his training to hone me into a top athlete. It’s tragic that we are both missing out on our best life as he sees it. He said he was sorry he didn’t meet me in my teens before I had my head turned because then he could have guided me to my true calling, and I’d have been winning Olympic medals in my 20s. Maybe he’s right! I’d have been all ears if someone had told me that as a teen! He’s quite adamant that everything else in my life is worthless. My science, my career, being half owner of the business, these things are not right for a woman at all. Even you are just a silly diversion, my sweetheart!
J: Oh well! Especially me!! Tell me something I don’t know! How did the subject come up though? Like I said. Why now?
She relaxes a little and leans on me.
S: I suppose it was appropriate in the end. We were having sex last night. Final night of the trip. Of course we were having sex. We’re always having sex. He was plowing me from behind. I was crazed in the wildest continuous orgasms, brain in outer space, like there’s nothing else in the world. After he came too, we kind of flopped on the bed tangled up in each other. He was spooning me as we calmed down. We were just trying to get our breath back, and he settled there behind me, fidgeting a bit and his cock moved which I felt vividly because it was still big and hard, buried inside me. Standard stuff for us over the years really, but as my brain returned from orbit, I realised the atmosphere was weird and heavy between us. Something was different. Then he just said it out loud.
G (to S): This can’t go on. I can’t do it any more, Sherrie.
S (to me); As soon as he starts calling me Sherrie, I know we’re into dangerous territory. To me, it levels us in an instant and breaks the sub-dom spell that protects me from reality. Right away, I’m on my guard. I’m a responsible adult again rather than some “girl” nonentity. Neither of us moved an inch. Still lay there in silence, maybe for a minute or more, genitals joined together, and it’s funny. In that very moment I knew with clarity that this is where it ends. Minimal warning of losing something so mega, eh? The awful feeling that soon he’s going to pull out of me, and his command and possession of me will be gone for ever. I felt myself pushing back onto him involuntarily. Like my body wanted to keep him inside me to prolong the spell for just a little longer. I couldn’t let the feeling go. At least I didn’t want to, but I knew it was done. Knew I’d been a lucky girl to have my cake and eat it for so long too.
S (to G): I’m sorry, Geoff.
G (to S): Why are you sorry? You’ve driven the agenda to where we are now. I should be the boss, but I’m not, am I? And that’s no good for either of us. You feel it, and I feel it. I’m supposed to be your Master, but you know the all-powerful vibe of that is missing, and you also know that it’s because you have taken control of the situation away from me. It might not seem like it day to day when I put you into submission, but in effect you’ve been topping from the bottom. I’ve thought about it a lot, and it’s become a travesty of what was spontaneous at first and what we should have for all of our lives. You were within an inch of embracing total surrender to me, body and soul; of accepting my will in directing your life. There is so much more for you still to discover about yourself, and I would have cared for you 100% to help you through it all. The worst thing is that I know you crave it and need more. I don’t know how I got it so wrong or if I could have played it better to get you over the line. I’ve tortured myself over it, but it’s done. I’m being emasculated by you now, and it doesn’t sit well. I’m not used to making compromise in relationships with women, and I can’t live with myself. You’ve pulled all the power back, and although you’ve played around the edges, and acted the part well, you’ve never let go to the same degree since that awful night. The good effect diminishes more as time goes by. I told you I thought that having part of you would be better than having none of you, but it isn’t. I was wrong. The part of you I don’t have eats away at me all the time. Your submission is incomplete, and now I’ve decided I won’t play subordinate to a female or her will in any respect. Or I won’t anymore. Not even for you. I have my pride.
S(to G): Why am I sorry? I’m sorry because you feel that way. I’d never ever describe you as emasculated when you’re training me, or disciplining me like all this week. Certainly not now while you’re fucking me. You are the undisputable boss in all of that. I can’t match your strength and aggression, can I? I yield to you, and you totally rule me; you are genuinely my Master. I’m sorry because I’m going to miss us too. I’m sorry because I’m going to feel terribly deprived of what might have come next. But yes, I’m sorry because you’re right. It’s good, but it’s not full throttle into the unknown like it used to be. I know it’s not the same. I’ve known it for a long time, and I never wanted to hurt or disappoint you. It’s just about the way we both are, and the incompatibilities in what we can and can’t accept.
G(to S): Maybe I made the big play a little too soon, but it had been years, for God’s sake. You should have been able to see you were on the threshold of something glorious with me. A whole new life, and the one that you were majestically designed by God to live out. You’ll call that rubbish, but I know you were.
S(to G): And that’s where we’ve always differed isn’t it? I’m up for everything you throw at me, even for exploring the outer limits of my submissiveness to you, but not your definition of what a woman should be or my destiny. I never lied to you. I never said I could fit your aspirations. It’s simply not me, Geoff. I think that when it was really good was when we both had different ideas of the agenda and where it could lead. But we let each other believe their own fairy tale because we were taking such highs from what we were doing. Once reality kicked in, it was no longer utopia for either of us. I never wanted us just to go through the motions. We both needed to be getting something valuable from it.
J: That’s heavy pillow talk, Sher.
S: What do you expect? It’s been six years. Weeks living with him, countless nights in his bed. Regularly reduced to tears by him under his extreme domination. A lot of marriages don’t last that long, and you know how intense it’s been. I cried. I cried buckets. His cock still inside me as we’re having the conversation, and then I’m blubbing into the pillow.
J: Can you keep away from it though? Either of you?
S: That’s the 64 million dollar question isn’t It? I think so. We’ve both decided we will and discussed the reasons which are not likely to change. But who knows how strong the addiction is? It runs deep. I’m making no promises.
J: Well, if you’ve done with it, you know I’m always here. Always got your back whatever you do. Even if you slide back to it. Your sexuality is yours, remember, and it always will be, I promised.
S: Thanks, John. Thank you for loving me. Crazy bitch that I am.
J: Thank you for loving me! And you’re not a lucky girl for having your cake and eating it. You’re simply exceptional enough to get both.
She’s very distracted that night and, unusually, not really on my wavelength. She seems to want to be alone, slightly reminiscent of the time he dumped her when her submission to him was at its height, but nothing like as fraught as that, thankfully. By 9.30 she tells me she’s exhausted from the trip, the hard physical effort, the rawness of the break up, and after giving me another hug and the tenderest of kisses, she’s going to bed. I hear her crying bitterly in the bedroom for a long time, and am torn between leaving her to process it in her own way and going in to try to comfort her. I’m still undecided when, an hour later, all is quiet and I head off to the spare bedroom to spend the night there. It’s probably better to let her have her space.
She’s very resilient, my girl, but after the previous drama when he dumped her before, I am a little surprised to see her so much better from the next day and onward, and of course she’s as much my loving, attentive, beautiful darling as ever she was. In that respect, true to her promise, apart from the fortnight everything crashed, she never wavers. She never lets her dalliance with Geoff spoil us.
==
We both always had ultimate confidence in our relationship. We agreed throughout that we could test it to destruction and if anyone came along and split us up through this kind of play, then we never had what we thought we had in the first place. I’ve repeated the mantra several times through this narrative. We never dreamed that anybody could, and I clung to the conviction because throughout all the excitement and the one isolated bad time, I maintained my total faith in her and us. We know that what we have is golden. Then and now, I didn’t believe anything or anyone could break us, but after witnessing her grief, I confess that I was surprised how far up the scale Geoff was hitting with her back when he told her to choose. If he couldn’t break us, he certainly proved he could shake us. It devastated her for the fortnight when she thought they were over the first time and ran away in the crisis of it all to try to come to terms with the fallout and her loss. The pain lingered, and it took a time to fade, but we got each other through it with large helpings of our perennially demonstrative love which never faltered in the months afterward.
The whole “Geoff” experience had been memorable and, I’m sure, it left a mark on all of us. Her inner conflict about doing all of this has never really eased over time and neither has my joy of watching that conflict in action. Her guilt at doing wrong persists to this day. It is so much more fascinating and hot that she has to overcome this good girl guilt in order to play, rather than being a woman who just sluttily goes for it without a care. As for me, I was shaken by how extreme the feelings of pleasure and despair could become for both of us. It was quite the “standing on an aircraft wing” type of exhilaration, but a chastening lesson at times, too. We might have faith in each other, but we can’t claim to be quite as tough as we thought we were.
Apart from one isolated occasion several months later, he never again steps out of line with her into any of the areas they’d explored for so long. He becomes a hundred percent professional and never lays so much as a hand on her body during her training. It remains absolutely platonic, maybe a little more so than her pride in her sexual allure to men is content with.
One aspect that fascinates me is that after the BDSM and sexual relationship between them ends, Sherrie reverts to her modern sexy clothing, wearing skinny jeans and short tee shirts, short skirts that she’s always suited with her wonderful long legs, and showing her bare midriff a lot of the time in the summer. It’s like she’s making a statement that her domination by a controlling man is over, and it certainly raises eyebrows at the business among the newer folk we recruited as we expanded, who have only ever seen her in flowery cover up dresses and modest blouses with skirts to the knee. They, no doubt, believed she was a caricature nerdy scientific eccentric and a bit of a prude with her very frumpy wardrobe. We know that it’s the subject of office gossip, so of course Sher is tickled pink, and plays it up even more, often going braless to work. It’s a fun distraction from the pain of missing her lover.
S: I reckon some of them think I’m having an affair when I’ve just embraced monogamy again. How ironic is that?!
However, when she goes to the pool or the gym she reverts to the demure, old-fashioned feminine attire he had insisted on as her Master, and she puts on the belly chain too for those sessions. He never asks her for it back as she supposed he would when the sex and the sub-dom aspect finished, and she says wearing it puts her in the right frame of mind to give her all and leave her last ounce of strength and energy at the pool or the track or gym. She wears it in all of her competitive races as well. She also continues to use towels rather than tampons, but when I question her she says it is nothing to do with his outrageous diktat. She’s just got used to them and doesn’t want to go back to having tampons inside her. I can’t help but wonder, however, if there is something in her that can’t quite abandon these remnants of her submission to his will.
My banishment to condoms when she came off the pill at her doctor’s bidding, well before her total withdrawal of her favours from me as she descended deeper into submission, continues through the remainder of the “Geoff affair” even as we start having marital intercourse again. She doesn’t go back on oral contraception until it’s all over with him. Medically, she could have done so after only a year off them or less, but it turned into one of those weird erotic mindfucks that he’s getting her bare and I have to use a condom. Then it ratcheted up so that I wasn’t getting her at all or even seeing her naked. She likes to hold it over me, and I never really pester her seriously to change it. I moan ritually about it on and off because it’s part of our scene for me to complain about her putting out so often to her fat cocked lover and taking his semen into her while her husband hasn’t felt the inside of her vagina on the bare for years. Of course I enjoy the vibe and, deep down, she knows I do. We have the most incredibly hot time with it in our play teasing. Immediately they finish for good, she seduces me one wonderfully romantic night. Wine, candles, lingerie, the works:
S: I want you bare tonight, babe.
J: What?!
S: You heard. I want to feel YOU in me. I don’t want a condom. I want your seed flowing around in me.
J: But, what about the risk?
S: I don’t care. Fuck it. I want to feel you. It’s been too long. It’s ridiculous.
I’m thrown into a quandary. I know she doesn’t want to get pregnant. Never has. It’s a stone wall red line for her. I’m not keen on the idea either!
J: Is it because you’re missing it bare from Geoff?
I note that she doesn’t answer that directly.
S: I’m missing it from you. For far too long. It shouldn’t have happened.
J: What if you get pregnant?
S: We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.
How can I resist her? I’m only a man. So we do, and it’s fantastic. Delicious and intense and…, everything... Obviously. With the heightened sensation I don’t last long before I flood her, but I’m nothing near finished with that, so we just carry on and on, right through her climax until I come again. I’ve always been able to maintain an erection and carry on through two or three ejaculations. Despite my fears of knocking her up, I’m aware of thrusting deep as I orgasm, answering some obscure call of nature to seed her as high up inside as I can. The times we have together just after Geoff leaves the stage are truly magical. We had always been loving to each other throughout, except for the obvious “fortnight from hell”, so it seems really strange and wondrous that we now feel so renewed, our love reborn, even.
We’re having some of the best sex of our lives, and for us that’s really saying something. Dispensing with condoms puts the icing on the cake (that feels a bit too literal!), as we fuck for a week with me at last filling her with my jizz several times a day, her telling me she’s loving it and not to worry because she’s nowhere near her ovulation time, before she fesses up one morning and shows me the pills.
J: What the……..
S: I was just messing, babe. I was at the surgery a couple of weeks ago. That’s one risk I don’t ever want to take! I just wanted to surprise you by getting you so hot that you’d take me without protection.
J: You little shit. I’ve been frantic about knocking you up!
She chuckles naughtily, so I grab her and drag her back to bed. We are late in the office that morning.
Geoff, of course, continues to train her for swimming, running and in the gym. She’s determined to maintain the peak of physical fitness he drove her to as her Master. One Thursday, evening some months after it ended, I’m travelling in the south on business when I receive a text just after 9pm which is finishing time at the swimming pool:
S: Have an invitation. 
J: What sort of an invitation.
S: Drinks at Geoff’s!
J: Oh right. I thought that was all over.
I have an instant hard on, of course.
S: So did I! Is it alright, babe? I’m sorry. xxxx
J: Of course it is. U know it is. Are you excited?
S: Am I excited? Is the pope catholic?
S: Yh. You could say I’m excited.
S: Running down my leg excited!!!
J: Me too! Not the running down my leg bit!
J: Have fun and be careful!
S: Love you! THANK YOU! xxxxxx
I think maybe that will be the last I hear until the following morning, or even when I arrive home later on tomorrow, but about 10.30pm, another text:
S: I’m home. Nothing much happened, but it got a bit hairy. Tell you tomorrow.
J: Oh. Disappointed?
S: Yh. A bit. Well some bits more than others! Love you, babe. 
I’m puzzled. Dying to know what went on, but never wanting to come over as needy, I give her space until I arrive home early evening the following day, the Friday. Almost before I’m through the door.
J: What the fuck was that all about?
She hugs me close and then presents me with a glass of red.
S: After swimming he asked me out of the blue if I wanted to go to his. Not like it used to be, obviously. Back then he’d have told me where I was going in no uncertain terms, and I had to jump to it or get thrashed. I was intrigued, of course. So I said yes. I followed him to his farm just like I used to.
J: Did you tell him yes before or after you texted me?
S: Before of course. As soon as he asked! I was instantly wet.
I pull her and our wine to sit with me in the lounge. She’s giving me her best shit eating grin.
J: That’s so fucking hot, you dirty little slut.
S: As soon as he shut the door behind us he was on my case.
G(to S): Arms in the air.
S(to me): So obviously I did. I had my plain white dress on. He just got hold of the hem and pulled it right up and over my head.
G(to S): Plain white cover up underwear? You’re still sticking to the dress rules even now?
S(to G): Yes.
G(to S): All the time?
S(to G): No. Only when I come to swimming or training now. Just when I’m near you…….. Sir.
G(to S): And the sub belly chain too? Why?
S(to G): I don’t know. I always wear it at swimming and training under my kit too. Guess it brings back exciting memories.
G(to S): It’s definitely doing that right now.
S(to G): Why have you asked me here tonight?
G(to S): Why do you think? I want you. I miss you. Why did you say yes, Sherrie?
S(to G): Same reasons. Sir.
G(to S): Let’s have a drink and talk first.
S(to me): So we sit down together, him in his coaching tracksuit, me in bra and knickers, with two of his ridiculously oversized measures of brandy. Just like old times! Obviously he wants me drunk tonight. Then he says something I’m not expecting.
G(to S): I’m in a relationship.
S(to G): Wow. That’s great. Congratulations! But…. I don’t understand. You’ve invited me here and taken my dress off!
G(to S): I’m in a relationship but that doesn’t change you being the hottest and most submissive woman I’ve ever known. I want one last time with you. Just to remember how it was. Just to cherish for the future…. I’ll have to make a special confession in church because I’m cheating on Lynn in a way, even though we’re not married. It is getting serious, though. I know this is sinful.
S(to me): It always used to intrigue me that my Master was in such fear of his master. God. Often had to stifle a giggle in the old days while he tried to hide that he was making the sign of the cross behind my back and thought I didn’t know!
S(to G): I think you’ll be OK. I’d have been struck down by a bolt of lightning long ago if there was anything in all of that old crap!
S(to me): If ever I started my heathen outbursts he’d rapidly change the subject or distract me, so that’s what he did.
G(toS): We’ve been spending a lot of time together. Me at hers, and her here. I met her at church. We’ve actually known each other a long time. She’s away at a conference overnight tonight, back tomorrow. That’s why I thought……
S(to G): So is John. He’s back tomorrow too….. Sir.
G(to S): Come here, you!
S(to me): So we’ve drunken a little brandy, he takes me in his arms and we start kissing. Going at it, really eating face off each other. Of course, I’m already down to my bra and knickers, so as we pause for breath, I’m pulling his top and tee shirt up to get my hands on his body. He takes the hint, pulls them up and over his head to show me those solid muscles. Then he took my bra off and he’s mauling the girls roughly as we go back into the kiss, upper bodies flesh on flesh now, and all of those memories flowing back. It’s getting quite steamy, and Christ I was already thinking about that big, fat cock in his pants and what it was going to do to me. I’m dreaming of him tying me up, caning me, Christ knows what. Maybe he’ll catheterise me before the night’s out. He’s pinching my nipples hard and they’re growing really, really big. The arousal and submissive anticipation is making me hyperventilate. My mind’s running riot.
G(to S): Those nipples of yours! I’ve never seen nipples that grow so long. Wait here. I’m going to get some serrated clamps and show them who’s boss. Remind you of your inner sub. I know you want to feel the force of submitting again.
S(to G): I won’t deny!
S(to me): He’s up off the sofa and heading to the bedroom, so I shouted after him.
S(to G): Is she as submissive as I was to you? Are you her Master?
S(to me): He actually laughed.
G(to S): You must be joking. She’d have a fucking heart attack and throw holy water on me.
S(to me): He was back with the clamps and got them locked on to my erect nipples. It made me gasp for breath as the teeth bit into me and the pain shot straight to my brain and the rush to my vagina. We went into the clinch yet again. Next thing, he’s managed to get a hand into my knickers and eased them down my thighs a little, he has a finger entering me, and I’m adjusting position to give him more access. I’ve got my hands on his trousers, thinking about getting them off when his phone pinged. He pulled it out of his pocket.
G(to S): Shit! Oh fucking shit!
S(to G): What??!
S(to me): He moved the phone sideways so I could read her text: “Hi. Conference finished early, so I thought I’d come home tonight and surprise you. I’ve just reached the Co-op in (town about half an hour from us). Any requests?”
G(in exasperation still staring at his phone in dismay and disbelief): Yes! Please will you just fuck off!!
G(to S): I’m so sorry, Sherrie. It’s divine intervention.
S(to G): Oh don’t start that bloody nonsense again! If it was the doing of the almighty she wouldn’t have texted, would she? She’d have arrived here unannounced and administered divine retribution by cutting your bollocks off. It’s fine, Geoff. I’m gone in 5 minutes. You have at least 30 before she gets here without including her shopping time. You make sure you tidy up and put these glasses away. Oh, and I’d open the windows for fresh air if I were you!
S(to me): So he’s jumping around like a jack in the box, and I’m just getting my bra and my clothes back on quite casually. I know she has a good half hour to run, and I can’t understand why he’s going ballistic. It’s just a few minutes since he received the text, but it’s the only time I’ve been in his presence and not felt subordinate to his will. It was high farce in action.
G(to S); I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have set this up with you.
S(to G): Look. I’ll get over it. Stop flapping. I’m gone! See you tomorrow for training.
I love hearing how she’d taken charge of the situation while her so-called Master was falling apart. That’s my girl!
S(to me): And that was it. Luckily, most of my brandy was still in the glass, and I drove back here wet and frustrated, but I had to laugh. It would have made a great sitcom scene. I’ve never seen Geoff so sheepish as he was at training this morning! He obviously thought it wasn’t masterly for me to see him panic like that, and it wasn’t, but eventually I laughed it off with him. What else could I do?
With that farcical encore, Geoff’s fun and games are truly over, but he maintains the pressure by remaining hard on her in her training. She would have it no other way and wants no other trainer despite him telling her he could recommend a really good one if she feels uncomfortable with him after their affair ended.
---
Would we have steered clear of something so heavy if we’d had a crystal ball at the outset? We’ve talked this over many times down the intervening years, and the answer for both of us is no, certainly not. Obviously not, because it didn’t stop us delving into a similar cauldron of emotions and playing with fire again later on. My wife’s submission to such a harsh Master was an epic experience for us both, but, obviously, particularly for her. She told me that he said much the same to her in the aftermath. He wouldn’t have missed what they shared for the world either. She took comfort from his words because she still felt guilty about hurting him the night he made her choose. She’s a lovely, caring person who wants to make people feel good, not to hurt them. She was genuinely sorry for him that she wasn’t and couldn’t be what he wanted her to be. We never held it against him, incidentally, for making her choose. He’d reached the stage in his own life where, belatedly, he wanted a partner full time rather than a hot submissive lover who was his absolute ideal, but who kept disappearing back to her husband.
I reckon she did us all a favour by choosing me. I thrive on an independent, intelligent wife who I see as my equal. In my view he would have tried to suffocate her mentally, and it wouldn’t have ended well. Above all, she loves me and we’re still unbreakable after all of this white turbulent water has passed under the bridge. I never doubted it. Well, maybe just for a minute or two!
Geoff actually married not too long after they finally split. His early relationship with Lynn was probably one of the reasons it ended when it did, although he didn’t tell Sherrie about her until that comical, frustrating night when his new girlfriend might easily have caught him in bed with her. He told Sher that whilst he had felt guilty about her committing adultery with him and that it was sinful, he just couldn’t resist her. He would definitely not, however, do the same after he was married. It was a church wedding after all, and a red line for him. Sherrie actually attended the nuptials solo as a guest. She expressed great surprise at the invite, as she would have imagined Geoff shrinking from bringing such a brazen temptress, undoubtedly sent to him by the devil, into the house of God. The day went off without incident as it turned out. No bolts of lightning, balls of fire, nor dire prognostication of any kind did befall.
Did it change us as people? Harder to say. We proved to be strong and durable before and during Geoff despite the convulsions over what happened for a couple of weeks in the middle, and we remained strong and deeply in love afterwards. Everyone’s outlook changes during their 30s. A person leaving their 20s is very different from the same person entering their 40s, so we would have changed anyway. I think it gave Sherrie a more worldly outlook beyond our admittedly very insular romantic relationship, but she was always outgoing socially from being a young girl, and would have continued to develop as the sophisticated, learned woman that she is, particularly in view of her extensive list of contacts through the business and wider academia.
Geoff indisputably put her into a higher league in her sporting prowess and made it his quest to adapt her body more towards that. She was his project, if you like, and her comprehensive submission to his will gave him licence to mould her exactly as he saw fit, confident of her obedience. She might not have gone down that road without him, and might not have the wonderful figure and fitness she still has today. As for her masochistic tendencies, she had this potential in any case from the evidence of Damien back when she was a newly wed 21 year old. She is forever grateful to Geoff for developing that deep seam in her sexuality, stretching her (literally physically and mentally!) and, not to put too fine a point on it, blowing her mind.
I’ve asked her whether under different circumstances she could have lived as his full time submissive for her whole life. It’s a hot conversation and we return to it time and again, feverishly indulging the gory details of it usually before or during fucking. Winding each other up, and extreme teasing around the possibility is one of our favourite sports, and it can rear up without warning on any given intimate and otherwise loving and romantic evening:
We’re relaxing together on a Friday night. It’s been an unusual Friday because Geoff is away on his delayed honeymoon with his new wife, so there has been no tough gym and running training for Sherrie today, and there’s none next week either. Naturally, he’s left her a programme of exercise and runs to complete in his absence, but the Friday schedule can be slotted in over the weekend.
She’s been with me all day from first thing, and we’ve been pretty chilled. We travelled to the office in one car, and we’ve even had our heads together all day at work brainstorming a new project. Afterwards, we called in for a light meal and a drink at the local down the road. We can do this stuff for days on end without ever getting tetchy with each other. We just chatter, chuckle and budgie the whole time. During the long Covid lockdowns we all heard stories about relationship fractures and divorces because of people being under the partner’s feet and concluding that they didn’t like each other very much anymore. Sher and I have never been remotely like that. The more time we spend together, just us, the better. It’s a really nice vibe this Friday too because we’ve got some new exciting products on the starting blocks in the lab, and the company finances have finally turned a corner. We’re recruiting again and the debts are coming down at last. It truly is a feelgood Friday, so I buy Sher a rose for her hair in the pub, one of my regular little gestures when I see a vendor selling them because she just suits them so much. They make her look virginal! The flower vendors always come to us. Maybe we just appear so loved up, or look the part of a young courting couple rather than a pair who’ve been married for 15 years. I’m not sure about me, but Sherrie is fresh faced enough to pass for a mid 20s something girlfriend living out her first major love story, and she dresses young too. Contentment reigns in our world, we believe. Here’s to good times and success.
Anyway. Back home, early evening, we’ve been getting even more mellow with a little wine….. Sher has lit her scented candles all around us. I’ve set the background mood music with our favourite love songs on the sound system, naturally including our own adopted love theme, “Pure” by The Lightning Seeds. Petting and snuggling in our favourite ways on the big living room rug, clothes melt away and we’re engaging in some delicious sexing along with more wine. It’s a nice time, putting it mildly. There’s no rush when doing something as exquisite as this, and we take our time, revelling in the joy of our mental and physical connection. It’s maybe an hour or more of loving, kissing, touching foreplay. She’s edged me agonisingly close to orgasm and pulled me back several times, and it’s a reminder of the teasing “cruelty” she inflicted on me during my long penetration denial, but this is very different. She’s naked for one thing, and tonight I know how it ends. It’s well over an hour before I’m inside her, but it’s always worth prolonging the anticipation. Her pussy tightens around my cock as I enter her. I’m doing her doggie but being lazy with it and lying behind her, both on our sides, Sher almost in the foetal position to feel the maximum effect of my cock in her. Slow and deliberate suits the mood; this is all pretty vanilla now, long and leisurely, leading to a lovely smooth wave of climaxes, sending her channel into a constricting spasm that soon triggers me over the top too, and I let go deep into her.
We lie, still joined. Recovering. Silent in our love.
Eventually, after very necessary ablutions we move to sit by each other. Still on the floor, still naked, still close enough for me to feel her hot breath on me.
S: That was so beautiful, John. The slow climb, your patience and restraint to get me right to the summit. You’re such a good, considerate lover for a girl. Thank you, babe. And thank you for a lovely day. I love you so much.
J: Nothing in life gives me greater pleasure than playing with you, sweets, and seeing your pleasure. You know that. Thank you for the edging. I thought you’d made me lose it a couple of times. I’m glad that you’re such a cock expert. I’m sure we’re not finished though. We have all weekend and the night is young.
I see her eyes shining in her desire for me, and my cock starts to perk up again.
S: Hmmm. Well obviously SOMEONE isn’t finished!
She reaches out and takes hold of my erection, just idly playing with the shaft and then slowly pulling back the foreskin to reveal the most sensitive part once more. She sensually wets one finger on her tongue and plies it gently over the top of the head, stimulating around the hole. Her touch is exquisite. She says she loves cocks, and she knows exactly what this does to me. I struggle to maintain composure yet again, this time against the bladder urge rather than impending orgasm. Responding in kind, I lick my left index finger and delve my hand between her legs to part her lips and find her clitoris. Only light touches from each of us, but directly on our most responsive bits. This is soon making us really fidget! Suddenly she gasps:
S: Ohhhh Christ! Fuck me again, John! Just fuck me hard this time!
She’s perfection in her lotus position. That flat runner’s stomach in the shade of those big tits and erect nipples never fails to transport me somewhere different. It’s clear that the mood hasn’t diminished in either of us. Life is good. We’re on a high. I want more. She does too. Perhaps that session was all a little too vanilla for us in our elated frame of mind, and now she’s directly asking for aggression. I make a decision to twist things up a few notches as I take my hand away from diddling her, and I stand up to walk over to the drinks cabinet knowing exactly what I’m looking for. I pull the bottle of brandy from right at the back. Brandy’s not our usual tipple. This one was bought for us long ago as a present and it’s never been opened. It’s not OUR usual tipple, but it is what Geoff sometimes used to ply her with to get her drunk. I pour two large measures and return to her. She’s seen what I’m doing and clocked the brandy.
S: Brandy?! Are you suddenly Geoff or something? You trying to get me pissed to take advantage of me?
She reaches out for the glass anyway, and takes a big slug of the brandy.
J: Do I need to? I hadn’t noticed having to hold you down to pour it down your neck! Or the wine for that matter! You just asked me to fuck you hard if you’ve forgotten.
She sniggers as she swallows and draws a deep breath, tits heaving appealingly. We’ve already sunk a bottle of red around our foreplay and the first fuck, and then there were the drinks at the pub earlier. It’s all oiling the wheels, building the atmosphere. I notice that the music has stopped. There’s just the silence now. And us. My mind is in overdrive about where to take this. I’m going for delving into her crazy sex brain.
J: Does the thought of hard fucking and brandy bring back memories?
S: Hmmmm.
J: Of Geoff, specifically?
S: Hmmmm.
J: Show me, Sher. Adopt the submit position for me. I’ve imagined it so much over the years, you wouldn’t believe. Just picturing you doing it for him.
I’m pushing the envelope beyond anywhere we’ve been as a couple. She looks unsettled.
S: I’m not fucking submitting to you. I’d feel a fool. You’re not my Master, you’re my love and my equal.
J: Yes. I know that. I don’t want you to, but just for my education. Just so I can feel something of the vibe you got from it. You and I have always got off on psychoanalysing each other.
It’s true. We have. She remains in lotus for a few moments more as we look at each other in hushed standoff. Will she go for it? I push a little harder.
J: Please, sweets, for me. I’d so love it if you would.
Another moment of indecision, and then hesitantly she moves, turns around, kneels up in front of me. Looks at me, big beautiful, appealing brown eyes. Face full of doubt and confusion. Slightly tipsy. Then she looks down at the floor and starts to adjust. She will bestow the gift on me. My goodness, she’s doing it.
J: I love you.
So gorgeous, so sweet, so feminine. How must he have revelled in having her before him this way, knowing that she was freeing him to take any liberty. To mess with her mind and body any way he wanted. To cane her, to belt her. Cause her pain. Direct her to run naked in the forest at his whim, or to wet herself in public, or take it upon himself to give her enemas. To render her helpless and penetrate all of her orifices that have been coveted, mostly in vain, by men ever since she was a teenager. To do precisely his will, only to have her begging for more because she craved his domination and his cock. Such a prize he won. And what a loss he has suffered.
The imagery before me, and what it conveys, my wife with her head bowed, chin hard to her chest, arms behind her back with hands clasped, sitting with her butt on her heels, knees slightly apart, sex visible and vulnerable, open to anything and encouraging every violation from her Master. She holds the pose, statuesque, as I’m genuinely moved by the sight.
J: God, that’s enthralling. You are art, nothing less.
I think she’s encouraged and getting the into the feeling because she bends forward, straightening her thighs to almost vertical as she lowers her upper body with infinite grace, still kneeling but with her knees further apart now. She brings her arms around stretched out horizontally in front of her, then moving them down as well until her palms are flat on the floor, her face down in the rug. It’s a little like seeing her perform her yoga naked, but only a little. This is supercharged. Her arse is now the highest part of her. She says nothing. I circle her once, then stop with my toes touching her fingertips, feasting my eyes on her perfect form. I walk around to her rear again and stand by her feet. If the first position was pure surrender, then this is surrender with a pronounced sexualised undertone. Her face is hidden from view, her cunt and arsehole are given centre stage.
J: Fuck that’s hot.
S: This is the homage position he sometimes made me take before sex.
Her voice reaches me, albeit muffled by her speaking into the rug.
J: Fuck. Talk about a picture painting a thousand words. Right now the picture paints a million.
I bend down and feel the heat radiating from her sex. Insert two fingers. She’s slick, soaking, and she doesn’t flinch. Yes, I now know that she’s enjoying showing me. A bit of her penchant for enjoying her own humiliation on display to me, perhaps? That’s my first thought, or rubbing my nose in all that she’s experienced with him as she likes to do? I’m not sure which. I wonder where her head is at, and what I could push her to here, but I’m not her dom, and I don’t want to attempt to master her in the vulnerability of her excitement. That could ruin us in the aftermath. But I do want to explore her sex brain as her equal partner. I really, really want to do that, and I’m feeling more confident that she’s amenable as I kneel behind her. Amazing how she can totally mesmerise me with all that she is after so long together. The scene extends for minutes, just me looking in awe at her, and I’m reluctant to break the suspense.
J: Stay in position. You know how you told me that your sex brain is focused back on me now after all of those years on Geoff?
S(mouth still in the rug, so voice still muffled): Yeah.
J: You must still fantasise about him though. I mean being cut off from all of that so suddenly. That couldn’t have been easy.
S: I still think about him. Of course I miss it. You know I do. I was fucking addicted to it wasn’t I?
I’m kneeling beside her now, bending right down to her ear, whispering as I strive to elevate her mood still further.
J: Is it more than that though? More than thinking about it and missing it?
I take one finger and rub it very lightly up and down her anal cleft, from her coccyx to her perineum.
J: You said he did this to you all the time and you loved it.
S: Hmmmm. Yeah. It was heaven. It felt so naughty.
I remember his regular next move was to tickle her arse hole and drive her to distraction before poking a finger a short way up it. I don’t have her tied up as Geoff often did, but I follow suit with the tickling anyway. I feel her tense, but she’s trying to stay cool and calm. Her breathing is getting heavier.
S: Aaaaaah.
It’s somewhere between a sigh and a moan. I don’t want her to lose control, so I only tickle for long enough to make her breathe hard and fast.
J: OK. On your back. Now! Legs up and open.
She takes my command without a murmur, like she’s with him and in the zone. Within a few seconds she’s on her back and beckoning me.
S: Please, John…..
She’s very needy now, so I’m not ready to give her what she wants immediately. I’ll keep her hanging.
J: Drink some of your brandy, like you did for your Master.
She leans to the side on an elbow. Grabs the glass and takes another big slug from it.
S: I want you now.
J: Has your little submission performance got you all hot, sweets?
S: Please put it in!
I don’t deny her any longer. I get myself into position above her, looking down into her eyes, my weight supported on my arms. One hand either side of her body, I approach, my pelvis to hers, engage my cock with her lips and a moment later I penetrate her again, pushing in to the limit as she wraps her long legs around my middle. I thrust in a steady rhythm for a couple of minutes, nice and slowly, but with power and length, the way I know she loves it. She’s starting to build again already. Her orgasm won’t take much longer if I carry on, so I hold back. My cock is buried inside her, but I stop to let us both savour our union.
J: I know that your sex brain is only a small part of you, and it doesn’t completely control you, but I want you to take me in there. Tell me everything, Sher. Let me into your sex brain and give me the tour. Don’t lock me out of that amazing part of you.
She’s into the sex we’re having, and at the same time bewildered by my words. Her mind is racing. I’m probing inner recesses of her mind that even she finds difficult to understand or control.
S: You should be careful what you wish for. Some fires burn underground for centuries, you know. If they rage up to the surface again, we can get burnt, things can be damaged.
It’s a typically deep analogy from her, but I’ve come this far, and our love reserves are brimming over nowadays. I think she’s at the edge of a precipice, but I feel safe to take it on.
J: You can tell me your secrets you daren’t tell anyone in the world. It’s ok. I’m part of you. That’s what we’ve always known isn’t it? You’re part of me, so telling me is just like thinking to yourself. Do you want him bad, sweetheart? Please tell me.
S: This is like when it was all going on, getting crazy, and you asked me to hold nothing back even if it hurt you. You’ve plied me with drink, and you’ve brought me here again. You might hear things you don’t want to know. If you push me, you know that I will get to a point where I let you have both barrels and I’ll get off on it selfishly. If that’s what you want, you know very well that I can do selfish, but I warn you……
I’m still looking down into her eyes. I still see her confusion, but I also see a growing desire to let go and do it. Reticence and reserve are fighting the urge to let it go free. She’s tightening again around my cock, so I give a couple more thrusts intending to take her a little closer; build the pressure on her. Encourage her. I whisper again:
J: Tell me, Sher. Do you wish it was your Master inside you right now?
She says nothing straightaway. Just thrusts up onto my cock and groans long and deep. A very hot sound. At last I see the change. The confusion gives way to that shit eating grin I’ve enjoyed and endured so often. She’s flipped:
S: OK, then, suck it up, babe. I do so wish he was fucking me now. I still want him bad. The very worst way. That’s how I want him. I’m sorry, but you asked me. You fucking asked me to say that! And it’s true!
J: Are you sorry it ended?
S: Fuck yeah! Don’t be stupid. Of course I am. I’d do anything to go back to him.
J: Back to him pounding you, stretching you out mercilessly? Dominating you. Rather than your husband?
S: Oh yeah. Any day. I want my Master to rule me! I’m his little sub woman and I crave it.
We’re moving again, both of us. Slowly but steadily. It’s climbing.
J: Be careful though. He might cane you afterwards.
S: Yeah. Bring it on! I need it. Anything if he will only fill me with that beautiful big fat cock again. He fucks me beyond all reason, beyond a hurricane……..
J: But he makes you piss in your knickers in public too. Makes you drink till you can’t hold it and he won’t let you go to the toilet. That’s really bad, Sher. Makes you disgrace yourself and then he calls you a helpless baby girl. Tells you to piss on the floor. Or he’ll piss in your hair and on your face while you’re hogtied. That’s cruel, Sher. I’d never do that to you. I’d never make you helpless and debase you in that way or in any way.
S: Ohhh. Of course you wouldn’t, and I wouldn’t let you. But he can do anything to me, John. Because he knows what I need deep down. He knows all my secrets more than I do. Reads my darkest depths. That’s why I need him, and why I need to pursue the full knowledge of it all.
J: And what’s the logical conclusion to that, my beautiful girl? You need him to humiliate you, don’t you, my sweet?
S: Yeah. I need that so much. I need it, babe. Fuck, I can’t tell you how much. It’s what I need to be. It’s what I was put on this planet for.
All through this exchange her vaginal muscles are constricting my cock, so I pull out of her suddenly. She thinks I’m about to leave her high and dry on the way to her climax, a bit like she’s sometimes left me, and Geoff often left her. Instead, I put my fingers inside her vagina, and gather some of the juices cascading out of her.
J: Ok. Let’s see how supple you are after all that booze, madam. Legs right back now. Knees resting on your shoulders.
Of course, any contortion isn’t a problem to my little yoga gymnast. As soon as she’s complied I lubricate a little way into her anus with her own sex juices from my fingers, bring my already slick cock head into contact with it and press forward. I recall one of the hottest things she ever reported back was how Geoff used to Master her by taking her anally in missionary position while staring into her eyes and making her acknowledge her subservience to him. It was the epitome of her submission to him. I’m replicating the posture if not the dominance, and I’m slowly working my way into her, but anal is always so tight. Heaven knows how he got his fat cock in here.
When I’m all the way in, her grin has turned to that ice cold look that she reserved for her most extreme treatments of me. Times during the affair when she might tease me mercilessly but give me no relief. Or other outrageous times when she ruined my orgasm before leaving to do an overnight with him. I’ve never seen this expression while I’ve been balls deep in her before, it’s true to say, and it strikes me that what puts her into utter submission to him has the opposite effect on her with me. I can judge her well after all our years together, and I know she’s wired at a very high voltage now, so I give her just a few slow strokes. Her nipples are reaching something like the Damien size and length previously reserved for her Master. I push her some more, winding her key.
J: Do you wish you’d gone further? Not held anything back and done everything he wanted you to? Given everything up and lived as just his little woman for the rest of your life? You can tell me, Sher. It’s OK. The full X rated, unfiltered version. Your secret will be safe.
Her eyes seem like they’re glazing over from the energy she’s expending. Her body is rising to orgasm, and her mind is somewhere other than in this room. We’re both getting close now, and her breath is coming in short, snatched gasps. Anal always drives her wild and makes her come quick and hard, without any direct clitoral stimulation. I hear that this is unusual in women, but I have a theory that it’s tied in with Sherrie’s masochism and her seeing anal penetration as the ultimate taboo submission. I notice, incongruously, that my rose that I bought her in the pub earlier as a token of our tender love is still clipped in her hair. What we are doing now is a hundred and eighty degrees away from the romantic vibe we indulged those few hours ago, as I move faster then slower again. Adjusting speed and angle all the way through as I coax her to the summit with my cock and drive her nuts with my talk.
S: Ohhh. Fuck yeah… I made a big mistake…. there, but I’m going to put it right now….. You know I can…… tempt any man…. Awwwwh…. I’ll get him to divorce that bitch and…….. he can have me any way he wants me. Awwwh, awwwh…
J: You want him that bad?
S: I wanted to scratch her fucking eyes…… out at their wedding….. Awwwwwwwh. She stole my Master……. But I smiled sweetly…. and pretended it was all good………. It’s NOT FUCKING GOOD! I should have…. stopped it. Stood up in the church……. I …. Almost did ………. awwwwh
J: How will you get him back from her?
S: I’m going to seduce……. him in the gym after…….. training next time……
She’s fighting for her breath now. and I’m arse fucking her like my life depends on it. Her voice cracking; the words losing coherence.
S: She’ll be out…… work. There’s no contest between…..…... He wants me…… Awwwhh…… and I want…… I know it…… He knows it, and you, John……… You fucking know it too! Awwwwwh
J: So that’s the cunning plan. But then he’ll have you right where he always wanted you. You lost your freedom. He’ll turn you over and fuck you up the arse every day to show you who’s boss. I might do that anyway from now on.
S: No you won’t!!......... I’ll live with him….. I’ll have to take 2 enemas for him every time…… But… ok…….. I’ll have him as mine…… Anything….. Truly……. I mean it…..
J: You’re gonna leave me for him?
S: Yeah……… So you pushed me to him……. at last. I devote myself to him.
J: I know you do, Sher, but then he’ll stretch your tight arsehole with his big fat cock. Maybe you won’t be able to take it up your little arse. Maybe he’ll tear you, Sher….. Tear you with the dirty great cock that you crave.
The thought takes her over the edge, and she screams out as though in pain from the size of his penis.
S: Ah. Ah. Awwwwwwwhhhhhh.
She’s bucking around, lost in unintelligible moaning and screaming, until we’re left clinging on to each other trembling, my cock still hard up her bottom, as the fever of our mutual orgasm subsides.
===
I collapse on top of her for a moment. The anal session with the febrile conversation I led her into has finally sapped our strength.
A couple of minutes later I disengage from her, and in one movement I get first to my knees, then collect her, picking her up from the floor and cradling her limp body gently in my arms as I stand. It isn’t a problem. Despite her fitness and toned body, she’s actually lighter than she was when I met her at nineteen. I hold her close, flesh on flesh, seeking our loving intimacy once more, as we continue to come down from the kinky climax.
J: I think we should indulge ourselves with a nice hot shower and wash our bits, sweetheart.
S: I think we need to! I’ll definitely pass on licking your bits clean considering where they’ve been!
I carry my girl up the stairs as I’ve done so many times before, her arms clinging around my neck as I climb. It’s been a long, varied day, and we’re really jaded now as we soap each other. The passion, the kinks and the angst have all evaporated like they never intruded. There’s just the love left, and that’s a perfect note to go to sleep on. I remember leaving the flower I took out of her hair before our shower on the handle of her bathroom cabinet so that it’ll be the first thing she sees in the morning. Beyond that, I remember nothing at all of getting into bed and falling asleep. It’s been draining for both of us.
It’s all history by then of course. It’s been an intense evening, but it’s just a prop for our rich and varied sex life. Geoff is married to another woman, and we are no nearer to answering the conundrum of whether Sherrie might possibly have lived that way exclusively for real. The answer is unknowable, but when we’ve calmed down, lying in bed together with our traditional cuppa on the Saturday morning, and we aren’t thinking with our sex brains, like me, she thinks fairly definitely not. She does take quite a while to come up with that answer, though, so the fascination is undoubtedly still there, lurking somewhere below the surface in that sex brain.
J: Last night was right up there among the out there stuff we’ve done. Phenomenal!
S(eyeing me with one of her sardonic looks): If a tender arse hole is a measure of phenomenal, you have a point.
J: Yes, love. I know the physical was demanding, but that never lets us down, does it? It was the crazy vibe that drove it though. Geoff can still do it for us despite it all being over.
S: I know what I said, and I’m a bit shamefaced now in lots of ways. You pushed me to let it out, and I know you are going to want to slice it up forensically, but I’ve tried to before in my own mind. It gets me nowhere, so there’s no point.
J: But how much of what you said did you embroider to push it closer to the edge? To push back at me and give it to me between the eyes because I’d cajoled you into disclosing it all?
S: Maybe all of it or none of it. I don’t know. It’s all fantasy now I’ve lost him, so it’s a moot point. I didn’t deliberately ramp it up. I just opened my imagination and let things that flowed into it loose out of my mouth without the usual reserved filter. None of it’s going to happen so I can fantasise whatever I like, can’t I? Liberating in a sense, I suppose. I can be as insane and evil as I like in my make believe world. It’s you that pleaded for access to it, so don’t shoot me for letting you in.
J: No, no. I wouldn’t do that. It’s all good. It was magical, in fact.
S: I will say that the mystery of where and what it might have led to never stopped deepening for me. Even while I sensed it was winding down. What came next always intrigued me because I know I could never deny him anything. Well, anything in the context of our affair. That’s how he got confused into thinking the affair was real life, and it’s understandable. It was real when it was playing out. Just not a lifestyle choice for me for ever. I think..
J: Perhaps you’ll take me there to that hot scene again. And again, and again!
She smiles her familiar “there really is no cure for either of us” smile.
S: Yeah. Maybe. It was good. You were squirming at times, but I like that. Keeps you keen, and I know it sends you somewhere crazy at the same time. But we know you always want more even when it hurts, don’t we? Like me, I guess, and the orgasms were explosive if you didn’t notice. We really are fucking mad, aren’t we?
J: But it’s good mad. The notion of losing my wonderful Sherrie is horrendous, but because I know it won’t happen I can eroticise the possibility and have fun with it. I love you.
She knows I never change, and she just rolls her eyes.
S: I love you too.
In my head, I continue to pick at the scab of whether Geoff came close to destroying us. I like certainty. I might play with fire, but I only bet on sure things. Maybe if it were not for me and our relationship she possibly could have lived that submitted existence, although she did say at the height of it that were it not for the strength of us, she couldn’t have risked putting herself into such a vulnerable position with him at all. I was her insurance and her rock that gave her licence to be so outrageous as to allow a man so extreme in his views and actions full reign to negate her as a woman and utterly humiliate her. She did it for the thrill and for the sheer hell of seeing what might happen. Perhaps she tells herself and me she couldn’t have done it without me so as to make herself more comfortable with her decision to end it. Who knows? Her words comforted me and kept me happily on board at the time, nevertheless.
My own view is that Sherrie is too multifaceted a character to live only in that persona. It was wild for her as an exciting antidote to the day to day, but 24/7/365 as a highly intelligent female made to acknowledge her abject subordination to her less academically gifted man, and to have her nose rubbed in it regularly on a permanent basis, would have been a different proposition, very frustrating for her long term, and just too hard to endure. I could be wrong. These emotions hang as unresolved issues rather than fitting into boxes to provide neat endings to this story, but then isn’t that life for all of us? No easy solutions, lots of loose ends, no neat conclusions. Chaos reigns, but Sherrie and I have our chemistry, our love and our unwavering devotion. And we like toying with loose ends. We’re happy with all of that. We’re very lucky to have each other.
And definitely finally:
Geoff is actually still training her when she takes her next lover a further five years later. In fact, he confronts her with an accusation. It’s at the finishing line after a county standard fell race where she’s blown away the female opposition and comes in well up the male field too.
G: You’re playing away again. You’re fucking some guy.
S(soaked in sweat, indignant, and still breathless, hands on knees, after her sprint finish): No I’m not!
G: You fucking are, Sherrie! You don’t fool me.
S(sticking to her guns feistily): What the hell makes you think that shit?
G: There’s an uptick in all of your performances. Running, swimming, everything. You have that spring in your step again. The bounce you only have when you’re cheating for cock. Just like when you were with me. You’ve been going slowly downhill since we finished. I thought it was maybe because you’re female and you’re getting older, but now you’re getting right back up there again, and that run today is phenomenal. Something’s charging your batteries, and I know what it is. You’re having that hole of shame of yours filled regularly again. I’d say for a couple of months now going by the line on your training stats graph. He’s a lucky bastard.
S(wind comprehensively removed from her sails, and impressed by his scientific insight because the couple of months chimes exactly): OK. You got me. I admit it. I might be getting a wee bit of forbidden attention.
G: Anyone I might know?
S: Hmmm. You might do. He’s pretty well known in the business community, but it’s a small town so better not go there.
G: Is he a strict Master?
S: Nooooo. Nothing like you. He’s very assertive in sex though. Definitely takes what he wants on his terms. You know I need that in a man.
G: Fucking slut. Does he know?
She makes a point of telling me that she laughed dismissively.
S: John? Nah. Of course not. Doesn’t have a clue. I’m much too smart, and he’s lovely. He trusts his little angel.
And at the time it’s true. I do indeed have no idea that she’s at it again. The conversation between us when I am introduced to the new situation comes sometime later in romantic, yet intriguing, circumstances.
G: Obviously! Little disgusting fucking slut, more like!
They laugh together and the moment passes. The conversation returns to the sterling performance she’s put in that day, but as she turns to walk away he suspends his professionalism for a moment and slaps her arse hard.
Sherrie’s “Geoff” phase lasts for the greater part of her 30s, and he trains her for sport well into her 40s until he sells his farm and gym, keeping her mega fit just like all of his male clients. In all the time she’s with him, he never takes on another female personal training client and he continues to insist that they aren’t worthy of his time and expertise. She’s the exception, but he maintains throughout that even she is only just borderline acceptable. A typical ungenerous Geoff putdown. Geoff moving away is the end of her having a personal trainer too, after well over 10 years. She maintains her demanding fitness regime, still swims and runs to a high level, but in mutual help groups without a qualified coach.
Thank you for your interest in our mad journey. I do hope that you caught something, even if only a fragment, of the edgy vibe we play around with for our kicks.
