How I Met My Husband

How I met my husband

Today I have been reminiscing a little about my marriage, I guess since I’m feeling a little vulnerable about the state of our relationship, our marriage and the health of our son. It’s a lot to keep inside for a stay at home gal without a career. I sit here at home everyday cleaning house, washing clothes and managing our lives without the first bit of consideration. I think my husband just assumes all of these things get done on auto-pilot or something. Why not, he has one in the cockpit of his office, why wouldn’t I be able to hit a switch and plan his dentist appointments, get his uniforms to and from the dry cleaner, have the groceries delivered and our meals planned and prepared autonomously, or our child’s haircuts and band practices.

I’m not complaining at all. I love the feeling of being needed even if the two guys in my life don’t realize how much they need me. I know it so that’s the most important part right? So apart from bitching about my husband’s detached lifestyle, demanding career, ***** on the side and overall cocky, demanding and macho exterior; I thought I would attempt to be realistic about why I married him, what I love about him, and what qualities he has which if exhibited could rescue us from this dark place.

I met my husband in my final year of college. I was studying for a degree in fashion merchandising. I always had the dream of having my own upscale dress shop. I had spent quite a lot of time in Italy as a child with my two Italian immigrant parents who wanted me to see and understand the place of our ancestry. Aside from witnessing the great masterpieces of art, architecture, literature and philosophy by such greats as Michelangelo, DaVinci, Cicero, Dante and Brunelleschi or the ancient ruins of the Roman Empire, I was most fascinated with the clothes…LOL. Yes, it was the fashion of Milan and Rome and Florence and Capri that really captured my attention.

I decided that it was my life’s mission and responsibility to bring those wonderful Italian fashions to the great state of Tennessee. Forget I live in a place with lower than average incomes or where girls accessorize sweat pants with spandex, I was going to single handedly change the clothing culture of rural America with $1000 sundresses, $500 shoes and $200 bras. Well, the good thing is that we all grow brains at some point in our lives, mine just happened to be a little later than most.

My husband, an aerospace engineering major studying to become an airline pilot, had absolutely no classes with me. I don’t recall ever even seeing him on campus that year. But on a fate fall day I spotted him in the library with his head glued inside some sort of aeronautical chart. The complicated looking map got my attention and I thought to myself that he must be really smart to understand that stuff. He was a curly headed blonde with extra long eyelashes, piercing blue eyes and a chiseled face. His body was lean and fit and very tall. He was literally the best looking guy I thought existed on the planet.

I guess being Italian with dark hair, brown eyes and olive skin, I am drawn to guys my opposite. I know my parents would have loved for me to find a nice Napolise guy in Knoxville but neither fate nor the devil ever brought such a guy to me. I am used to getting lots of attention from guys so typically if I sat next to a guy, he would do the hard work to break the ice not me. But this guy seemed completely uninterested in the hot little minx sitting next to him. I guess it was my competitive instincts which wouldn’t allow me to settle for his lack of interest in me. I needed him to ogle me and desire me like all the other guys do.

Well I am not going to embarrass myself by disclosing all of the incredibly stupid things I did to get his attention but I will say that eventually I did get his attention and got him to buy me a coffee afterwards. But he was incredibly shy with women and the complete opposite of every other guy I had known. He actually talked to me and listened to what I was saying and looked at my eyes during conversation instead of the other things I was trying to get him to look at. I had never been more confused with a guy. None of my seductress moves had any effect on him whatsoever.

So as they say when in Rome do as the Romans; I decided two things that very day. The first thing was that this man was different than other guys; a real keeper. He was hot looking, smart, focused, hot looking, kind, a great listener, mature, hot looking, and is the kind of guy girls marry, not sleep around with for fun. The second thing I realized is that if I could potentially land this guy as my future husband, I would need to adopt a new strategy which didn’t involve inviting him to accompany me to a sex party and watch me get getting screwed by random guys while servicing his ****.

Hard-to-get was my new mantra with him. I still had my outlets for fun and I never quit playing around with other guys. While pretty much any other guy could get me in bed instantly, I made my future husband work pretty hard just to spend time with me. I wanted him to cherish every moment he spent with me and every kiss I planted on those hungry lips of his. After about 6 or 7 dates, I would make out with him, sexy kissing and rubbing on clothes and let him get worked up and horny but I wouldn’t give up the *****. I wanted him to need it, to dream about it, to jack off thinking about it and to appreciate the hell out of it once I would finally give in to him. Another month passed and I was finally letting him suck on my ****. I also didn’t want him to think I was easy. Girls can be evil sometimes I know but smart girls know how to get what they want.

The best idea of all I came up with back then was letting him get me ******** down to my underwear while making out but not having sex and not letting him take off my underwear. Guys are very visual creatures and they love seeing us in our sexy little things. It drives them crazy. One night we were making out in his apartment and he was fumbling around with my shirt and bra so he could play with my ****. I said, “I want to get more comfortable so you don’t have to work so hard babe, do you have a big shirt I can wear?” He became very excited and got a shirt from his closet and handed it to me. I turned around in front of him and took off my shirt and jeans revealing a very sexy matching bra and panty. I turned a little and picked up the shirt from the bed and put it on covering my sexy little bottom then got back in bed.

He was of course excited and encouraged by it. I told him he could get comfortable too so he ******** to his tighty whities and got back in bed with me. We continued to make out as normal only now he had to watch me in my cute undies at the same time. When he would sneak a hand to my belly and rub around, I would let him get a finger in the lace band of my sexy panties before gently moving his hand back to a position barely above my panties again. I of course constantly touched and traced my tiny fingers around his abs and lower abdomen and even his upper thighs but never crossed that line. He would get so frustrated and tell me that I was so beautiful and he just couldn’t help himself. I would respond by saying things like, “I know baby, but I’m just not ready. It’s scary to me and a very serious step in our relationship. I just think we could just lay here and cuddle forever.” I was killing him and I knew it. But eventually you have to give rewards to keep them interested so the next time when we were making out I didn’t even ask for a shirt. I just ******** down to my matching lingerie, which was always carefully selected to have the highest erotic appeal to him, and laid in his bed. Since he was dressed, I just started unbuckling his belt as if I were nervous then unbuttoned his pants for him. I straddled his legs and removed his pants slowly while conspicuously staring as the large swell in his underwear. I wanted him to know I was very interested in his weapon system. After removing his pants, I just sat there on his legs, my panty covered ***** directly in contact with his thigh, apparently unable to move staring at his crotch. I took my hand and moved it to his thigh carefully, then apprehensively pulled it back like I was afraid. I did that exactly twice. Boy did I have his attention.

“What’s wrong beautiful?” he said to me softly. “Nothing babe.” With that I carefully moved to lay on his chest. I started kissing him passionately. He rolled me over on my back and really drove his tongue down my throat like he was snaking a clogged drain. I was running my fingers in his curly hair and holding his face while he passionately kissed me. He started rubbing my breasts and working a hand under the cup to access the tender but firm eraser like nipples of my full breasts. After a minute or so he traces his hand down to my abdomen and lower stomach area. Thinking he finally has me where he wants me, he slips his hand to the front of my pretty panties and just starts to caress me through the slippery material of my undies. I let him. I allow him to rub and scrunch and palm and scratch his way to that special place of his dreams only as long as he stays outside of the thin protection of the silk that separates his fingers from the heaven he’s dreamed about. When he tries to put his hand inside the band of my panties, I put my hand down there on top of his to stop him but I don’t pull his hand out. I just leave his hand inside, his fingers in contact with the flesh and folds of my shaven vagina, but stopped from doing anything or moving.

He’s blown away I can tell. His kissing and breathing has changed dramatically. He’s touching my *****, the most desired thing in the world to him right now, but I have covered his hand with mine and stopped him. Suddenly I look into his eyes. I rest my other hand on cheek and stare into his eyes. Now I hungrily and with feigned frustration begin to massage his hand into my throbbing *****. Hard and intense and with the passion of pent up sexual desire, I work his hand and fingers into me, squirming and making the most passionate and girlish sounds I can utter, the sounds mothers never teach their daughters. He responds deliciously and we are both loving the world right now.

Now on to the “un tocco finale” as they say in Rome or “finishing touch” in Knoxville, Tennessee. I reach down with my hand to his underwear and trace my index finger along the edge of his underwear. His abdomen instinctively draws up and I can feel his abdomen muscles harden and shift. With the lightest of touches, I begin to caress his **** for the first time. It was a memorable introduction. Though I couldn’t see it yet, I was experienced enough with ***** to know that he had been blessed from the gods in the **** department. At first I acted shy and reluctant but once I had my hand wrapped around that cotton encased sausage I cooed and purred about how awesome I thought his **** was and increased my enthusiasm significantly.

“Oh I love this thing sweetheart; it’s the biggest thing I’ve ever seen! I’m sorry I made you so horny babe, I think it would be ok to take care of this for you if you want me to.” I reached my hand into his underwear and pulled out his 9 inch **** and started stroking it up and down. He responded by laying back relaxing to concentrate on what I was doing. “Does this feel good babe, am I doing it right?” I said, knowing I probably have more experience with stroking ***** than he does. He just groans in a guttural sound and says, “God yeah! It feels great!” I move my head down to pay better attention to him and make him fantasize about me giving him head.

A pretty big blob of pre-*** sits atop the mushroom tip of his **** and I just ask curious and say, “Oh my babe, did I make you ***?” I make sure his **** is close to my mouth when he looks down and I’m looking inquisitively at his ****. He’s like, “oh no baby, that’s just my pre-***, it’s ok really, I promise I will warn you before I ***.” “Oh, ok, can I taste it?” I give my most innocent expression and run a finger over the head of his leaking **** and first bring it to my eyes for careful inspection then cautiously I rub the finger on my bottom lipstick covered lip and seductively taste if from my lip with my tongue. “Oh, my Kurt, that tastes awesome! I then slowly and cautiously bring my extended tongue to the tip of his ****, look into his eyes, then lick the rest of his **** head. I close my eyes like I just tasted chocolate for the first time in my life, then with eyes closed, I bring my mouth over his **** and begin to deliver my best oral and acting performance of my life. The longer I sucked his ****, the more I increased my enthusiasm until he could believe that it was his very own **** which converted a nun into **** and *** crazed ***** star. He couldn’t take his eyes off of me.

When he got close, he arched his back and without a word started tapping on my shoulder to warn me of his impending ******. I just ignored it. Then he said hastily, “My God Courtney, I’m about to *** ok?” I temporarily pulled him out of my mouth and said, “It’s ok, Kurt, I think I love this stuff!” then hastily resumed my assault. I then ran my finger under his balls toward his anus. Before I could do anything else, his spine arched violently toward the ceiling, he grabbed my hair and started ******* my lips and face while pumping gobs and gobs of his thick, scalding hot, salty ***** into my appreciative smiling face. I was moaning like one does when they are tasting a sweet cupcake with butter cream icing. I didn’t just act like I liked what I was doing, I acted like I loved what I was doing.

I didn’t want to swallow at first because I didn’t want to appear like the pro I was, I kept it all in my mouth until he was done. I just softly and tenderly kept moving my mouth up and down on him then looked up at him. I carefully removed my mouth so as not to spill his *** then looked at him with questioned eyes as to what I am supposed to do with this ***** in my mouth. I stuck my tongue out just a little to let him see his *** on my tongue then shrugged my shoulders and made a question sound. He looked around his table and handed me a cup and said, “you can spit it if you need to.” I just looked and him, rolled my eyes, leaned my head back for the effect, and started swallowing. He was so turned on by what I was doing. I could tell that he loved me to swallow his ***.

Afterwards, I just said, “I thought about spitting it out but I just kept thinking of how great it tasted and just went for it. I am so glad I did. I hope you allow me to do that to you very often. It was incredible!” He then rolled me over looked into my eyes; I grabbed his face and planted my tongue into his reluctant mouth. Once he got over the thought of tasting his own ***, he relaxed. He then separated from my lips and moved down my chest to kiss and lick my breasts. What he really wanted was his first taste and site of my ***** and I knew it. He didn’t linger long on my breasts before he licked a trail to purring kitty. Once he was face to face, he mouthed and wallowed the tour of Italy through the delicate material of my underwear. I could feel his hot breath through the thin material and could feel his rapid heartbeat against my outstretched knee.  He slipped his fingers through the sides of my underwear and slid then down my legs as I lifted my bottom to facilitate his efforts. For the first time, he is getting to see my exposed and vulnerable sex. My smooth bare vulva, swollen clitoris and protruding labia, all wet and twisted by his digital assault were finally within his site.

He moved his face toward my sex and dove straight in with his talented tongue. Once he licked his way around, familiarizing himself with my taste and the contours, curves and crevices of my most intimate possession, he slid first one then two fingers inside me without ever taking his mouth off of me. He searched and probed the upper surfaces of my vaginal canal looking for the spongy facade of my G-spot. I instantly thought to myself, not only is this guy beautiful but he also knows how to eat *****. Once he found what we both hoped he’d find, he got serious with his job and really pushed me over the edge giving me a ******* huge ****** in about 4 minutes flat.

Afterwards, he crawled back up to me and we made out and kissed for another hour. Me telling him how much I love his **** and him telling me how beautiful my body is and how much he loved me. Hmmm, he loves me? One blow job and he’s now in love with me. Damn I must be good. I looked into the azure eyes of the man who I had been expertly pursuing for months and told him I loved him too. It’s not like I didn’t. This is what I wanted for sure. He was worth the pursuit, he was a special guy and I instantly recognized it.

Well, part of me wondered if it was my slightly bruised ego which convinced me to use my estrogen induced powers to persuade him to see just how awesome a girl I was because he had not shown much interest in me when I was doing my best flirting. You know, the “want what you can’t have theory.”But the other part of me was convinced that whatever the psychological motives were for my unorthodox chase of him, Kurt would make me a great husband one day.

I kept this routine up for a couple months actually before I let him **** me with that awesome ****. Of course I was usually so miserable when he left from the lack of penis that I many times ended up crawling in bed with one of my other numerous **** buddies for a hard and furious ****. But, once I agreed to “attempt to fit that scary monster **** inside my inexperienced *****”(LOL) I was pleasantly surprised to find out how gifted and talented of a lover he was. By the time he earned his first ride, he bucked and spurred his way into the history books of *******. Now I’m convinced I love him.

During the past several months I had been gradually spending more time with him and had traveled to visit his family a few times and our relationship was getting serious. Once we had exchanged those words of love, I was convinced that I should try harder to be a good girlfriend and not cheat so much. I limited my stable to just two of my most favorite men who both were able to take me to another planet when I was with them. Both of them were black guys so there were fewer opportunities for my heavenly hunk aka Flash Gordon lookalike and either of them to end up at a party together talking about the hot Italian princess they were *******.

Eventually Kurt asked me to marry him. We had taken a day trip to Asheville to visit the Biltmore mansion and while touring the amazing rose garden, Kurt kneeled down under an arbor and popped the question. I have to say that I was completely surprised. Kurt was about to graduate and already had a job flying cargo for a major airline lined up. I said Yes, of course, and the rest is history. His first job didn’t pay well at all so I quit school and my dreams of the fashion world and got a job which I kept for a few years until Kurt had acquired the experience to be hired by a competitive airline based out of Atlanta on national flights. His significant increase in earnings allowed me to quit work and have a baby.

Now he flies international so he’s gone most of every week and the dynamic of our once happy marriage has totally changed. I’m glad I spent the time to write about him today because it helped me to remember the wonderful things about my husband that are so easy to forget when you’re depressed and confused. Self administered marital counseling if you will. Eat your heart out Dr. Phill! But even with my recognition of how wonderful of a man he can be, we still have issues which possess the capability of destroying our marriage.