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Man Enough

By: HeavyHeartLaments



(Note that comments are more than welcome. You can comment on this story or send me an email via the link below. As usual, bricks and bouquets are welcome.)

# # # # #

CHRISTOPHER'S SIDE

Most people realize that major events shape one's lives. A few accept the smaller ones have the same impact. It happened to me - the smallest, brought about the biggest change. My story.

Though I am in my late thirties now (36 actually), my wife Rachael and I met during the first year of our respective jobs. We hit off well and went steady for about 2 years. I found Rachael possessing all the qualities in a woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Beautiful, wholesome and in love with me. We lived in my house for another year together. And I found her to be the perfect homemaker. 

With Rachael around, I always had a clean house, wholesome food and no headaches, if you know what I mean. Rachael kept her hair long, loved ABBA, peppermints and me. And not in that order. Long story short, we married after that. Ten years down-the-line and one son later, we are in a phase where you no longer have to speak to understand what the other is thinking. My boy is the apple of my eye. 

You should see him fight with me for everything. From the remote control to the PS2 to who gets to sit on the front seat with me when I drive for our annual cross-country vacations. But our pride knows no bounds when we find him sleeping in his little bed at night, at peace, looking like an innocent angel. 

Every alternate years Rachael and me, attend reunions. Whether it's the reunions from her high school, college or even ones from her advanced education. Rachael never attends the reunions unless I go with her. I love to escort her, to be honest, and her reunions generally consists of meeting good, decent people. 

I meet many of her friends there. I can recognize most of them in her scrapbooks, albums, digital pics and whatnots. 

While each one has their personality and their own quirks, all of them come across as decent, well-settled and sometimes, successful. Often, we'd come across some man or woman whom Rachael would know. They'd tentatively introduce themselves and shriek when they knew each other. They'd exchange a few pleasantries, trade up on war stories and then move on to the next one, promising to keep in touch after the party. 

All of Rachael's friends had spouses. A few even brought their kids along, but they were always the first to leave. But that, I presume, is natural. I know when my son was small enough not to be left with a baby-sitter. He had accompanied us on a couple of these reunions, but was asleep before the party even began. At his age, then, 8:30pm was his 'sleepy-sleepy' time.

To all who wondered why Rachael and myself never went to reunions from my end, it was really quite simple ---- I had no formal education to speak of.

I had a hard childhood and teenage. After learning to read and write, presumably in the first couple of grades, enough to pull on in life, my parents passed away. So I was the only one left to take care of my family of 2 sisters and a brother. All younger to me. I decided against education (Yes, there were night schools. But I was still not mature enough -- or well to do enough -- to take advantage of that aspect) and went to work instead. But since I had no education, I could not get a proper white collar job. And I had to bring my family up working in the construction business. About the only guys who were concerned how much I could handle physically, rather than mentally. 

I laid bricks, cemented broken walls, mended asphalt on highways, tarred trails, worked in the sun and passed teenage and most of my twenties doing nothing but making sure my brothers and sisters got the best. Whatever best I could on my meagre salary, that is. 

However, life never disappointed me. Perhaps in an effort to even the scales, life gave me something best that a man could hope for. Love. And respect. From all my sisters and my brother. No brother or sister of mine took any major decision without first consulting me. And while that meant nothing, and I knew that would change when they would grow up or when they would get someone more important in their lives than their eldest brother, and that they sometimes went against my advice, it still swelled my heart to see them give me enough respect and love by asking for my opinion. 

When they started earning and could stand on their own feet, they began supporting me financially. I'm proud to say that all three were stubborn enough that they refused my offer of not accepting their financial help.

So there I was, in my early thirties, having no work, getting money in my account from all my sisters and my brother. That is when I decided to continue the education I had missed. It felt awkward, I had to admit, attending again. And right away I felt out of place. And age. 

But I got my Bachelors in Liberal Arts and decided to work for the first guy who would hire me. Not that I needed the money, but you can only sit so long in the house doing nothing, growing fat on the income of your siblings. 

That is when I had first met Rachael. And the rest, as they say, is history.

# # # # #

So here we were, sitting on the table accommodating twelve, with lots of Rachael's friends and their spouses. And a godawful lot of noise, boisterous banter and chaos everywhere. Seated next to me was Rachael and her best friend, Bethany. Both are quite close to each other. Bethany's husband, Francis, is a distinguished looking gentleman. 

He is a poet and his poems earns him big bucks at the European circuit. I thought he was a stuck up prude when I first met him, but he warmed to me soon after. I never realized poets had such risqué jokes in their repertoire. He told jokes that made cowboys blush! And while he'd put on his frigid, uppity behavior when we met someone else, with me, he was like another construction worker. Cracking tawdry jokes, drinking beer, laughing boisterously and having fun. We hit along well too. 

We came across Bethany and Francis at most reunions and while they stayed in Europe, they would visit us at least once a year, or they would make it a point to come to our house when they were touring or promoting his works. 

I knew Rachael and Bethany were with each other since third grade. And if you've never been tortured before in your life, you should try sitting with two ladies who know each other since third grade and watch them go at it. Everything from the make of the clothes, to food, to the fact the janitor was divorced because he fell in love with someone else to the fact the carpet in this room stank of rum and that the music sucked and that so-and-so was planning to have another baby, was covered between them.  

And when they started talking about the buttons, their shapes, the clothes and their color combination on particular materials, I kind of zoned out. Like I said, they were very close to each other.

Rachael and Bethany were not virgins, and already had gone through many partners, when they married me and Francis respectively. Nothing to fret about, as neither were Francis and me virgins when we fell in love and married them. 

Because of this closeness and familiarity, they chatted about everything in particular. Even their boyfriends in high schools and colleges. 

Among all their boyfriends (they did discuss them loudly) the name Brian kept popping up again and again. 

Francis and me were familiar with Brian. He was the only one, whom both Rachael and Bethany had as a boyfriend, years apart, of course, in their college. They were sexually active with him during college. Of course, I had met Brian occasionally in a couple of these reunions. And while Rachael kind of gave an awkward smile and moved off, Bethany generally chatted more freely. A couple of times I also found myself in conversation with Brian. 

I had long discovered that Brian was a normal guy. He was married and when he spoke to Rachael or attempted to talk to Bethany, his demeanor was that of an old acquaintance. He was comfortable with them. He always brought his wife, Sable, and both their children along. He always made it a point to speak to Rachael and Bethany with Sable around. 

He was settled in Tokyo and was quite successful as General Manager of an electronics firm there. While he was not there for all reunions, he did come by enough for me to recognize him and Sable from a distance. 

He seemed to be genuinely in love with his wife and his family. I have to admit, in our earlier years, after hearing discussions about Brian from Rachael, I generally tried to keep an eye on Brian in these reunions. But he always approached Rachael and Bethany with his wife and kids, said hello, spoke for a few moments then moved off to mingle with other guests. I never saw him as much as raise his head and look at Rachael again. Or Bethany, for that matter. 

Regular guy, like I told you.

# # # # #

Which is why when the name 'Brian' popped up in my subconscious, I knew that Rachael and Bethany were talking about him. While they talked about Brian like they would of any other ex of theirs, today, in this re-union, they were going at it with hammer and tongs. Case in point: Brian's girth.

Brian had put on weight in the last couple of years and much resembled the jolly Santa today at this re-union. Not that it mattered to him. He was happy in his own world. But of course, Rachael and Bethany being who they were, never stopped going at him.

"I can't believe Sabs lets him climb atop her." I heard Bethany say.

They both guffawed loudly.

"I think it's more that SHE climbs up on Brian, yeah?" retorted Rachael.

"Yeah! She must be getting her hobby of mountain climbing satisfied right there in her bedroom! Fucking Mount Everest -- in flesh!! " added Bethany.

Laughter from them both.

"Do you think the way he has blown up nowadays, he can see his own dick when he takes a bath?" Said Rachael. Her voice almost a whisper, still clear enough for myself and Francis to hear.

"Forget the dick, I think he can't even see his own toes!!" Commented Bethany.

More laughter from them. Francis had a smile on his face. It was obvious he was listening to them, but did not want to show them that he was.

"How do you think he manages to get it in with his Santa Claus tummy in the way?" asked Bethany.

"Probably the same way he used to do us. Sitting in the chair and asking Sable to sit on it. He's quite big that way, you know." Replied Rachael.

I got just that little wince of discomfort in hearing Rachael say that. But they were talking so animatedly, I figured it must have slipped out. And I can't grudge them that bit.

Still...

Instinctively, I looked around for Brian. I needn't have. He was at the buffet, with his plate piled on. And Sable, presumably giving him a piece of her mind, pointing again and again at the plate and his stomach. He shoulders were slouched and he seemed to take her jibes like any henpecked husband. Like I said, a normal regular guy, who aged normally.

I turned my head back to the conversation. I saw Francis was also listening intently at them, a smile still on his face. Poets are quite tolerant, I think you know that.

The girls were giggling now.

"Yes. That went up real deep inside my belly." Said Bethany.

"In that position, he really knocked at the door, didn't he?" asked Rachael, referring to their uterus, I presume. 

Bethany nodded knowingly, a far off look in her face.

"Sometimes, it went beyond too, eh?" continued Rachael. 

I was getting distinctly uncomfortable. Listening to your wife talk about how good it was with her boyfriend during college days is always a little unnerving.

"You know the first time, I was actually scared! I thought I'm never going to get that humungous thing inside me." Said Bethany, whispering to Rachael, as it it were a secret only the two of them had experienced. "And I'd love to get that feeling again." She added. 

I could see the smile disappearing off Francis' face. 

He looked at me as if to say 'Why the fuck are they talking about this?'

"I used to cum in liters!" said Rachael excitedly. "And he made you come so much in a single night isn't it?"

I could see Bethany reminiscing in her mind, scanning the faces of everyone in her memories, thinking about the good old days, when her eyes stopped on Francis. And his frown. And ice in his eyes.

Suddenly stopping, looked at Francis, realizing that her husband was listening and not liking it, Bethany's face had an expression that you get when you throw cold water on someone's face. I think she came to from whatever high it was that she had.

A washed-out expression spread on her face, when she realized the effect her statements must have had on Francis. She loved him and he was the only one for her. And she didn't want to something from her past to affect her present. Francis was her future. 

Her face told me she realized how close she had come to a full blown insult of Francis and buttoned up. 

But Rachael continuing, not seeing what was going around, was too deep into it. 

Bethany looked up to Rachael sharply, as if signaling to her that it had gone far enough.

"Forget it, Rach. That was then. Now, our husbands are our only true love. They are our future. Our lives. No need of thinking about our past. We don't live there anymore. And I think nothing compares to our love making with our husbands. Nobody. Our husbands are our universe now." She said, still smiling, but motioning to ask Rachel to shut up, and trying to soften the blow for Francis and myself, by reassuring us of their love and devotion.

But Rachael was too much into it to pick up the visual clue Bethany had provided. 

Then she made a mother of a statement.

"You know, till today, I have never cum more times in one night with anyone, except Brian. He was the only one who satisfied me fully."

I paused mid-way to my sip of the wine glass. What did she just say??!!

The awkward silence between the three of us brought Rachael out of her funk.

As soon as she said that, she realized what she had just uttered!!

Her head jerked immediately towards me, even as her hand went to her mouth. She gasped when she saw me with my wine glass paused halfway to my lips, my mouth agape. 

The anger spread. From my spine to the back of my neck and finally, my eyes and lips. Francis had turned dead serious. Bethany had an expression that must have told Rachael that she had gone past her limit.

She realized how bad her comments sounded to everyone around. Her eyes became wide with understanding at the implications of her last statement. To me. To both of us. To our happiness and our marriage. To our marital bed. To our marital bliss. She looked at me in the shock of realization. The moment she saw me, she knew our life would never be the same again. 

In a single sentence, she had declared that Brian was better in sex than anyone she had experienced so far. 

Even me, her husband of ten years. 

That despite all happiness and security and love I provided, she still remembered the sex with Brian because it was the best with him. That the intimacy and security we shared when we made love, was not worth talking about in public. And that sex with Brian was apparently so exciting enough, that she could still remember it 10 years after marriage, 1 son and a husband who loved her. And was worth to commenting for, in public. That 'No one satisfied her like he did. Ever.'

In a single sentence, she just emasculated me. 

Broken that space shared only between husband and wife. And while normally, this would have been acceptable, to share it with your spouse, in private, though begrudgingly, it was the worst statement she could have made in public.

I did not know if she was going with the flow, or she had genuinely said it. 

But all of a sudden I felt... inadequate. And a lot angry. It seemed like a betrayal of the most insidious kind. I gritted my teeth and refrained from commenting to her look or to the fact that everyone around were looking at the four of us, understanding that something was amiss.

Now, if you were any man, a real man, you'd probably have been pissed too, but would have advised me to be strong enough to man it out and continue. After all, it was just a comment uttered in the heat of the moment by my wife who loved me, took care of me, my home and my son. From a woman who had given so much to me. While there was no need to NOT get angry, it was nothing to be taken so seriously. It was just that. A comment. Not a picture of my ability to satisfy my wife. 

But you did not see the earnestness in Rachael's face. You did not see the twinkle in her eyes. You did not see the subtle shift in her posture, which told me she was squeezing her thighs together, at that statement. 

You did not see her fingers swirl around lazily along the rim of her wineglass, something she did when she was thinking of sex with me. You did not see her happiness at that. 

You were not there.

"Oh God, No Chris!! That's not how I meant for it to come out...!! Please!! Honey!!" was all she said, before I got up from my chair, and walked towards the exit.

# # # # #

After I walked towards the exit, I had to walk all the way towards where my car was parked. 

Rachael was along me all the time. She was clutching my elbow, blubbering, apologizing, begging me to overlook that, telling me how stupid she was, and what she meant while talking about Brian was that it was long then, and that for the last 13 years she loved me only me, that I was her only one and that I was the most important person in the world to her, and she loved our son and she loved sex with me and that I satisfied her completely and deeply, like no man ever did to her before. 

That she grew so hot thinking about me and my cock, that my body turned her on so much. That there was no man who brought her off like I did and she came the most with me and that no man made her scream and beg for more sex that I ever did.

But you know how it is. When something hits you bad, that is all you remember.

'He was the only one who satisfied me fully.'

That statement ran repeatedly in my head. And that was making all statements Rachael was uttering about how good I was and about how I satisfied her, just that bit more hard to believe.

She did not give up. 

Instead, she began running circles around me, telling me how much she loved me, and that sex with me was the most important and satisfying than anything else in the world, and that I was the only one who gave her the intensity she had never had in her life before and how she got off many times during sex, more than anyone whom she had ever been with, and that Brian and all others were nothing compared to what I did to her in bed, when I lost it!!

"And I suppose, I also knock at your door when I have sex?" I asked, coldly.

Cruel. The look on her face told me she realized what she had done. She knew she had made a mistake. Big one. The force of its impact taking her breath away. 

What was she going to say? Forget it Chris, it was just a comment? This was not something that wives say to their husbands to get something from them. This was not a comment which wives generally use such as 'you're lazy, see how Tom (our neighbor) mows the lawn' or that 'don't drink so much, I don't think you can take it.' Or some such harmless comment, that is actually meant to goad the men into doing something they don't like, but the wife does. Generally in matters of the house and the kids.

But this? This was different. It was a direct attack on my masculinity. And the fact that she uttered this when she was not aware, or trying to drive home a point, or trying to intentionally hurt me, made it all the more real. And scary.


Man Enough Ch. 02



(As always, bricks and bouquets as desired. Feel free to comment. Good comments inspire me. Bad comments enlighten me of where I should have done better. Keep them coming!)

CHRISTOPHER'S SIDE

I walked aimlessly. Just how was I going to measure up to Brian's memories? Everything that I did for her in bed from now on, would be tainted by his measure. Even if Rachael did not, I would now be measuring myself to him every time in the bedroom. The question would always be: 'Did I satisfy her as Brian used to?' And the answer would always come up inferior. Women loved big cocks. And Rachael herself said that he 'made her cum in litres' in a single night. That was something I could never compete with.  

Now, I had been walking around for an unspecified period of time. When I looked at my watch, it was four in the morning! I had been walking around, thinking almost the whole night. And I was nowhere near to finding a solution. 

This conflict of going back and forth, in my mind's eye, was taking a toll on me. It was making me dizzy and my head felt heavy. So I decided to give this a rest. I knew I was not the right person, nor in the right frame of mind, to really think about it objectively. I had to be guided by someone else. So I decided to do what I usually did when I was in serious trouble.

I took out my cell from my pocket and dialled Marcus.

# # # # # 

"Chris. You okay?" was the first thing he says to me.

"Just how do you know I'm in trouble, Marky." I said. 

He had knocked a couple of people around hard when they had tried to call him by his short name. You never called him Marky. You always called him Marcus. Marky was something you had to earn.

"Well, for one, you're calling at four in the morning!" he said, his deep voice guffawing.

"I... need to meet you Marcus. Now. At the earliest. Whenever. But now preferably." I said.

I must have sounded serious. His voice lost the lightness of laughter.

"The park. Usual bench." He said.

"At four?" I asked. Bewildered.

"Yup. Climb the fences. We used to do it all the time."

"Okay, I'll be there." I said.

"And don't you go breaking on me till I come. Understand?" he said sombrely.

"Yeah." I whispered. 

Then disconnected.

When I looked up, I was standing near an early morning café. Would do me good to eat a hearty breakfast. And perhaps help kill the time till I met Marcus.

# # # # # 

I was sitting on the park bench staring forward to nothing in particular. In a kind of zoned out frame of mind. When I felt the slap on my back. And his voice.

"How're you, punter?"

I turned around. 

Marcus stood there in all his six four glory. Skin like black ebony. Muscles bulging under that sweats he was wearing. A devilishly handsome face. And that ever-present stud in one ear.

Marcus and I worked for the same construction company long ago. And when we left, Marcus got himself an MBA. And began his own construction transport firm. Today, his firm was among the Top twenty in our state. But he never forgot to connect with me regularly.

"So, what's this problem that you can't solve, eh?" he asked, mirth evident in his voice. 

If I didn't know him so closely, I'd be thinking he was not serious. But because I did, I knew the first thing he would do was try to convince me that the problem was not as serious as I thought it to be. Hence the lightness of conversation. 

Only thing, he would never be expecting the kind of problem I was facing.

"Something personal, Marcus." I said, my voice choking a bit.

He got the point. And the mirth left his eyes. In its place was ice. His lips thinned.

"Educate me." He said seriously.

I spoke to him at length. About the reunion. About Brian. About Rachael. And her inadvertent blurting out that the time she had spent with Brian in the past before she met me was the most memorable from a physical point of view. And that it made me feel emasculated. Less of a man. Worried whether I'd be able to satisfy her or not in the future.

"So, what do you want, Chris?" he asked me simply.

"Just make that memory go away. I know for sure that I would compare myself to him every time I made love to Rachael now, Marcus. And I have no ideas how to overcome that." I said.

He smiled. He actually smiled!

"Here I was, thinking it was a matter of life and death. And you come up with such a small thing, Chris." He said. The laughter was back in his voice.

"Marcus, that's easy for you to say! You're black. You have an eleven and a half incher. Your make them scream. I know! It's easy for you to say that. It's not easy for me! I have to compete with the knowledge that I can't satisfy her as much as that Brian did years ago."

Now, for those of you wondering about how I know of Marcus and his, ahem, eleven-incher, let me tell you that construction workers, occasionally take baths in rows of showers together. Nothing to it.

"That's simple Chris," he said.

"Really?" I countered. 

"Yes, all you have to know is the truth. Look Chris," he began, "have you ever read scientific journals, life magazines and other studies that say it is not the size of the cock, but the way in which you use it that matters?"

I nodded positively.

"What these people are trying to say is, the length of the wand is not important. The amount of magic in it, is. Get it?" he said again, turning more serious all the time.

"Yes." I croaked.

"It means, that a woman's pleasure does not depend on how long your cock is, or how thick it is. But how you use it. That, THAT is what gives pleasure to women. Have you read this? Do you know this?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. I know this. I know that women place the ability of a man to pleasure them above that of a big sized cock." I said.

Marcus turned dead serious.

"Well, the truth is that it's all a bunch of hokum. It's all trash." He said. Then waited for my reaction.

It took me about a minute to get it!

"What...?" I began, bewildered.

"Everything you've ever read about a woman being more satisfied with technique, than a big cock, is, well crap." His eyes were mere slits now.

I was swallowing hard. Was he helping me? Or twisting the knife?

"All magazine and journals, outlining technique over size, are probably written by people with two inch wieners. You feel me?" 

I could not move. Could not think. My God, he was making this worse!

"A person with absolutely no technique, someone who does not give women respect, someone who is an insensitive bastard, but has a ten inch cock, will STILL come up trumps over a sensitive man who knows just the points to push to pleasure his woman. Have NO doubts about that, Chris." He stated.

I just sat there dumbfounded. My brain had gone numb. I could not think clearly.

"I..." I began. But what do I say. Marcus had just told me, indirectly, that there was no way in hell I was going to be able to compete with Brian's memories!

"So, first and foremost, get rid of the idea that technique is one-up over size. It never was. It never will be. What you are doing, when listening to this, is falsehood posturing as the truth. It is all crap. That's the absolute, cold, truth. And don't let any glossy tell you otherwise." He said.

But I noticed, the mirth had returned to his eyes.

"So... there is nothing an average sized..." I began in a choked voice, before he interrupted me.

"But there is another truth also. A truth that is better than the technique over size garbage. Something a big dick cannot compete with." He said. 

I think since last evening when Rachael commented about Brian, this was the first time a smile crossed my lips.

Hope!

That there would be one, was making me feel alive again.

Marcus leaned towards me.

"Wanna hear it?" he asked.

My expression must have told him I'd murder him before I let him away with that secret. He leaned back had had a laugh. Then, with deeply understanding eyes, leaned towards me again.

"Alright. Here's the beef. Women place more importance over the total experience, than to a big sized cock."

He paused for a few moments, taking in my expressions.

He must have seen my blank face. He smiled and continued.

"What this means, Chris, that for a man, foreplay and penetration is the complete experience. But, for a woman, her experience starts from the time you start to woo her and prepare her for making love."

"Prepare her?" I asked.

"Yes. You can't just ask a woman to spread her legs for you when you want to. Even though Rachael may do it, it's more because she's trying to keep you happy. Not because she's excited and drooling and waiting to have sex with you."

That was... profound.

"So, Marcus," I asked, "what you are telling me is that I have to woo her for a full day if I want her to have sex with me? Like I mean a really hot session?"

"Not a day. For days, if necessary!" He added.

"I can't..."

"...relate?" he finished my question.

I nodded.

"Alright, here's a question for you. Have you wondered, why, as a girlfriend, your woman is excited to have sex with you, but on her wedding night, she's quivering like jelly?" he asked.

I waited for him to finish.

"It's the same you. The same cock she's going to suck on that she's being sucking on for years. Same cock that's going to go inside her that's been going in for years. So why this sudden passion on her wedding night?" he asked.

"Because she's excited not only by me, but the whole experience of getting married?" I asked.

"Exactly!" he added. "This does not mean that you have to marry her every time you want sex. What it means is that whenever you want mind-blowing, great sex, you have to first bring her in the mood."

"Yes. I can relate to that." I said.

"But what is this 'mood' that we all keep talking about? The mood is nothing but a frame of mind you bring her into, throughout the full day or the evening. The one she will, from a woman's point of view, evaluate as a whole. Which you don't because you are a man. For her, the sex starts from the point you look at her hungrily during the day and continue to tease her till the night. For you, it's when you actually bury your dick in her. Two viewpoints. Get that?" he asked.

"Yeah. Well, actually not fully, just... kind of." I said.

Something was making sense at the back of my mind. But not enough sense. This was something I had read and knew. Most men knew this, actually. But still, there was that problem of being satisfied by a big cock...

"So, how does that help me overcome the problem of her satisfaction by a big cock versus my average cock?" I asked.

"It doesn't." He replied. "Because this comparison is wrong. They will evaluate you on the whole experience. You evaluate yourself only subsequent to penetration. They are two different things. You are comparing apples and oranges." He said.

I nodded my head in denial. Admitted, this was making sense at some core level of my brain, but it was not yet connecting with my heart. And my heart is what gave rise to feelings, not my logical brain.

"I am connecting with this logically, Marcus," I said as much, "but truth be told, I still can't feel it. My heart still says that she was better off satisfied more with Brian than me."

"Why do you feel that way?" asked Marcus.

"Because you have to realise Marcus, that logic cannot influence feelings. You cannot apply logic to change someone's feelings. Viewpoints, maybe. Feelings, never. To change feelings, you have to make that person feel the way he should. Not explain. That is why lecturing someone and providing dollops of logic never works when trying to eke out someone from a bad mood. But going out and getting drunk does. Simply because that act itself brings out different feelings." I said.

"And up till now, you have been correct and astute, but still logical. My logical brain can comprehend it, even accept it. My heart will not. Plus, you were mentioning a small while ago that big cocks do make a difference. Then you're contradicting yourself by saying the 'whole experience' matters. I can't understand what to believe." I said.

Marcus leaned back. And looked at me in the eyes.

"Let me explain it to you in a way you can relate, alright?' he said.

I nodded.

"Let me ask you a question, Chris." He began.

"Have you ever fractured any bones during your time at construction sites?"

"Sure, I have Marky." I said.

"Alright then, tell me. Which was the worst fracture incident you've ever faced among all?" he asked.

"Well, it's got to be the time when I fell off the first floor girder with that stupid three diameter metal pipe." I said.

"And...?"

"And, well, I fractured three ribs and my thigh bone" I said.

"That was bad. Right?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure. Pretty bad, actually." I concurred. "I almost pissed myself when the doctors told me I'd be walking around with a limp for the rest of my life. But nothing to it. Now no limp and everything is fine. As if it never happened." I finished.

"So, let me get this straight. The worst fracture you've ever had in your life, was the Grindlays Building site where you fell of the first floor girder and fractured three ribs and your thighbone. Correct? He asked.

"For sure." I affirmed.

His smiled widened and he scooted closer to me.

"So tell me now, in your entire life, what was the worst accident you ever had." He whispered.

"Accident. You know it. No questions. It has to be the Thomas building fall." I said. I shuddered as I said that.

"What happened there?" he asked.

"You know it, Marky. The Thomas building got constructed to the third floor, before the moorings collapsed. The bloody contractor was fucking around with the quality of the materials." I said.

"And you..."

"I was on top when the fucking thing collapsed!" I said.

"Injuries?" he asked.

"Fuck, yeah!" I responded. 

"Tell me." He said.

"Fractured my elbow. Twisted joints at three places. Pieces of metal poking through all parts of my body. Trauma to the head and shoulders. Thighs, calves and upper groin ripped up. Had to undergo a lot of treatment and therapy for that." I said.

"That's odd." Marcus commented.

"What is?" I asked.

"I would have assumed that Grindlays building where you fractured your body at four places would be a bigger accident than the Thomas building one." He said quietly.

"Nope. You asked the biggest ACCIDENT in my life. Not the biggest FRACTURE in my life. So I told you..."

And I paused.

And looked at him.

Marcus was smiling.

A light bulb went off inside my head.

"Oh God!" I said. "Oh holy, fucking God!" 

My mouth was open. Realisation was hitting in waves from all directions.

"Do you know what I did here" Marcus asked.

"Yes," I whispered, "you just equated a big cock to the fracture experience. And you equated 'whole experience' with my biggest accident." I said. Still in shock. Realisation now flowing in fast!

"Exactly. Just as the four body-parts fracture was a big thing, but still small compared to your other accident because of its enormity, for a woman it is the same. Ask her about a cock, and cock-size only, and she will say the one with the biggest size satisfies her. That's what I meant first. Ask her about SEX, and she will say the one with the best 'whole experience' satisfied her best. That's what I mentioned later." Marcus said.

"I'm... fuck! I'm actually getting it Marky!" I was raising my voice now. Along with my spirits. A smile crossing my lips.

"Let me ask you another question." He asked. The twinkle in his eyes was brighter now.

"Did Rachael say that Brian was the only one who satisfied her fully?" 

I nodded in agreement.

"And when you went to reclaim your car from the parking lot, she also said that Brian did not compare to anything that you had in bed?"

I nodded again.

"Isn't it odd? Rachael telling you that Brian was the best and then you are the best? Clearly only one can be the best. What was Rachael ACTUALLY trying to imply, Chris? Sure, she was trying to appease you, to calm you down. But there was something else there wasn't it, Chris? What was it?" Marcus asked.

It was clear to me now. Very clear.

"I think she was telling me that Brian had the biggest cock, and cock-wise only he was the best. But SEX EXPERIENCE wise, sex as a whole package, in which this cock size was also included, I was the best. Better than Brian. Better than any fucking boyfriend of hers. And that sex with me was the BEST." I said.

"So..." he began.

"For a woman, for Rachael, she evaluates me on the sum of the parts. But I evaluate myself, a man that is, only on the basis of a few parts from those." I said.

"And as a woman, what would she rather have? A big cock or a..."

"...super fantastic 'whole experience'." I finished.

"Getting it?" he asked.

"Bang on!" I said. 

"Yeah, I could make out. You're no longer slouching. And your voice is not cracking." He said.

I looked at him. He winked back. Then he put his head back and looked at the sky. He was giving me a chance to be alone with my feelings. Giving me time to assimilate all that I had heard.

It was a new feeling. It was as if what Rachael had told me, never just mattered. Because now I knew. While Brian's cock went deeper, the total SEX EXPERIENCE she got with me was far, far superior. It may seem odd to me, a man, to realise that because I could not relate with it back then. Brian was good in a part. I was great in the sum of parts. No way could she compare Brian with me in the whole experience thing. I would come up trumps. Every time. Guaranteed!

"So, just one more doubt, Marky." I said, voice chirpy.

"Sure."

"What happens when a guy with a big cock, ALSO woos her, excites her and gives her the whole package. Then what?" I asked.

"Well, he's better in that case. Depending on who it is." He said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, there is a scientific answer to this and an emotional one. I'll tell you both. But remember, the emotional answer MAY raise your hackles a bit." He said.

"No, no... nothing of that sort. Go ahead." I said.

"Alright, let me start off with the emotional answer to this." He said. Taking a deep breath.

I waited.

"The truth, the emotional truth that is, Chris, is that if you go up against a guy with a big cock, you'll come up trumps in the 'whole experience' thing around ninety-eight percent of the time. Ninety-eight percent of the time, you'll win." He said.

I sat wide-eyed.

"You see," he continued, "most men with large cocks, the kind that makes women scream, have never brought it upon themselves to get educated about the 'whole experience'. A large cock, a screaming woman, some Vaseline or jelly and that's all to sex there is for them. Therefore, you will always be ahead of them."

"But, assuming by chance, we get the remaining two percent?" I asked.

"First you are out of luck then." He said.

Surprisingly, both of us guffawed.

"But really, it will not matter that much, because now the scientific reason comes to play." He said.

"Which is?" I asked.

"Every race has a size fitment." He said.

"Meaning?"

"Well, have you shown your six and a half incher to a Japanese teenager? She'll think it's a monster. Why? Because by definition, they are made much smaller. Their holes are tinier and their men's penis' are a perfect fit for them." He said.

"So, black men and women are generally larger. A black woman's vagina is larger and more stretchable than her white counterpart. All the more easily taking in a larger black man's cock. Make no mistakes, a woman's vagina, any woman, is stretchable enough to get a baby's head out, nothing will compare to that, but that's an exceptional event. Whereas sex is usual." He said.

I was pondering what he said.

"So when cross race sex happens, quite often, the larger race, say a man in this case feels that the woman is tighter. And the woman feels that the man is bigger. A classic example of what happens when a black man has sex with a white woman." He said.




Man Enough



My cock is an average 6.5 inches when erect. Not exactly an anaconda. But like I said, average. Good enough for an average woman. In the last 12-13 years, Rachael had never complained and I always managed to get her to orgasm before I blew. 

But now to hear that his cock was knocking at her door, was unbearable. He had to be at least 8.5 inches to do that. Minimum. Just a guesstimate. Nowhere in hell I could ever do to her physically what he had done a decade ago. The cat was out of the bag. No fucking way it was going back in.

I looked at her in the eye when I asked that question. I could see her throat constrict and her chest shudder in misery at what she had done to me. I knew she really regretted it. I knew she loved me. Really loved me. And I thought of overlooking what she had said. But the way she had said it, her body language when she had said it, the lilt in her voice and the faraway look in her eyes when she had said it, made if difficult for me to forget. 

Her face took on the expression that told me she could cry any moment. Thankfully, I had reached the car by then. I opened the driver's door, started the ignition and put the car in gear and moved ahead.

I could see her huddling, her head down, her body shaking, in my rear view mirror. I knew finally, that she had broken down.

# # # # #

"Chris, open up. I'd like to talk."

Great. So now she sends Francis to talk to me. What was I going to do?

To hear Francis knocking on my door, in my own home, asking to let in, meant he and Bethany had accompanied her to the house. 

Thankfully, our son was at her mother's. Just a co-incidence in the normal routine of having a baby sitter instead.

"Francis... " I said, then paused. 

What do I say to him? 

That I am upset my wife thinks I don't knock her door and make her cum so many times a night? That I feel my wife had broken my confidence in my manhood by implying that she had never been satisfied fully by me? 

What do you say?

"Not in the mood buddy. Please, make yourselves at home. But I'm not coming out." I said.

"No you're not. Then just let me fucking come in at least?" he said, standing outside my room.

Well, if nothing, I figured he'd bore me to death with one of his poems if I did not open the door. Funny, how you can think of the most humorous things in the saddest parts of your life.

So I unlatched the door, and let him in.

"Aren't you taking this a tad too seriously, Chris?"

That was the first thing he said.

I did not reply. But continued looking at him.

"Look, if you ask me, don't let it get to you. All of us know how much Rachael loves you. It was something at the spur of the moment. Beth was into it too. I don't let that upset me." He added.

"Besides, if you are not in the mood to forgive and forget, I'd suggest you sleep it out alone today. Tomorrow is Sunday. Do nothing tomorrow, but stay in the house and bang her like an animal. Sorry for using words like this Chris, but believe me I know what I'm talking about. Don't make love to her, use her. Hard, and do whatever gives you pleasure. Fuck her till she can't walk. Bite her and shout obscenities when you fuck her. And ask her whether Brian used to do this as you take her ass. And mouth. Stake your claim on her. Roughly. Dominate her. Own her fully. Make her forget Brian. Then, in the evening, take a bath together, go out for a candle light dinner, come back home, and this time make soft, tender love to her, kiss her lips softly, caress her hair, tell her how much you love her and the life you both share, till she cries in your love for her. Sleep in each other's arms. Cherish your love. I guarantee by morning day after, you'll feel all this was childish and not worth ruining a great relationship for."

He said this in one breath, waiting for my response.

"Francis..." I said, looking balefully at him, "this is not one of your editors telling you your poems are crap and that someone else's are better. Unlike your editor's trashy reviews about your poems, which perhaps shove a jack up your ass and inspire you to shit out better poems, this is not that. You're mixing things up in your head." I finished.

I could see hesitation in his eyes. But more importantly, I could see shock, at my cruel remarks about something he felt so personal about. His poems. And that me, Christopher, his close friend was the one to utter these words.

"I... see, Chris." He said. He turned to walk away. He seemed hurt. I could see him trying to preserve the dignity of this conversation by trying to walk away from this verbal fight, but it was clear he was hurting bad. That was a low blow. Unfair.

"Francis." I called out to him.

He turned over and looked at me, hurt still evident on his face about the way I spoke to him.

"If emasculating your poems does this to you, imagine what you would feel if Bethany emasculated you publicly about your sex life."

"Oh, God!" he said. His eyes wide open.

I think this time, the nail hit the spot.

# # # # #

RACHAEL'S SIDE

"I think he's taking the hurt part a bit too far." I said.

Bethany and myself were sitting on the coffee table. Francis had gone upstairs to talk some sense into Chris.

"I don't want to comment, till Francis returns, Rach." Replied Bethany tersely.

I was upset.

Upset and ashamed. Ashamed, that I was stupid enough to say something that could hurt my husband of 10 years this bad. Upset that I did not see what Bethany was trying to do when she uttered that 'husbands are our universe' thing and gesturing me to shut up. Upset that I should be thinking about how Brian used to make me cum, that too in the presence of my husband. It was more than long ago and I need not have brought up those memories. Not in front of everyone and definitely not in front of my loving husband. God, I loved my husband. And I was upset I had hurt him with my insensitive and flippant comment. What was I doing even reminiscing about my lover when I was married? That was a closed chapter in my life!

But I was also very hurt to see that Christopher take offense to such a small thing.

"Now granted, it was stupid of me to say this aloud. Much less in front of all my friends. I should not have started that conversation in the first place. Granted. I am guilty. Totally! But Chris need not have put on such a show." I said. Not really believing this was still happening.

"Maybe he felt you... how do you put it...ummm...you...yup! he felt he did not satisfy you!" Responded Bethany.

I sat up straight.

"Come on," I said, with more force than necessary, "Beth, you KNOW he satisfies me perfectly!! I don't even secretly wish that he had a larger prick or that his technique could have been better. You know it! We've discussed this over years!! What he does to me in bed is better than anyone," I said, "even Brian or anyone else." I added.

"Sure didn't look that way when you were mooning over Brian's memories, Rach." She replied.

I tried to find humor in her voice. There was none.

I wearily slumped in my seat.

This was all a bad mistake. I had to open my mouth and talk about Brian. I am so stupid!! 

Bethany got up to make coffee and made two cups, placing one before me. Drinking deeply, I regained some of my composure.

"I mean it Beth. He totally, completely and with all my heart, satisfies me. I love him!" I said. As if that would make things right.

"And not because of the way he makes love or makes me feel secure. I am really turned on by his body. His cock. It feels so full when it enters me. I am perfectly content and happy the way it is. With my husband. With his cock and the way we have sex. I don't even THINK of Brian's cock or anyone else's for that matter. No one else has that right to access this secret garden of mine except Chris' cock. And I am always content and glowing with how his cock fills me. And the way it makes me feel." I added.

Bethany just nodded. And I felt frustrated. 

I got the feeling this little speech was doing nothing to convince Bethany . 

"Do you think I don't love Chris?" I asked. There are benefits to having a best friend since third grade.

"Of course, you do." She replied evenly.

"So?" I countered.

"It's just that he does not satisfy you like Brian does." She added, smoothly.

This time I lost it.

"What are you talking about Beth??!! I love him. I love my husband! I keep telling you no one satisfies me more. I don't want anyone's bed but my husband's" I said. Almost on the verge of shouting.

"Sure you do. I said you and he love each other," she paused, "But that don't mean he's better than Brian in bed. I mean, at least as far as you are concerned. That's what you said back there honey," she continued coolly, "I mean, he doesn't have a nine-and-a-half-incher like Brian, does he?" she added.

"Bethany!" I shouted this time, "What the hell is wrong with you??!! Can't you see that Chris satisfies me perfectly the way he is and I don't have any complaints or fantasies?" I was determined to get the point across to Bethany.

"Then Rach," she added, looking at me directly in the eye, "Why the fuck did you say that Brian satisfied you better and made you cum more times? What the hell were you thinking?"

"Come on Beth!" I almost cried out, "you were doing it too!!"

"Yes, I was. But I realized in time what impact it was having on my Francis. Why didn't you? What took you so long to realize that talking about how much your ex-boyfriend satisfied you in bed, is an absolute no-no? And why in the world was that fucking comment about ONLY Brian being able to satisfy you? That implied no one else, INCLUDING Chris, could not." She asked.

I was shocked. And I choked up. No. Stupid mistake was not it. That was not the word. The word was GRAVE mistake. 

Beth was right. What the hell was I even doing, talking about my previous boyfriends in front of my loving husband in the first place? Forget about what I commented, why was I even discussing sex with someone else in front of the man I loved? How could I just do that? God, I was SO bloody insensitive and stupid! How I wished I could take it all back!!

I took a deep swig of the coffee. And then met Beth's eyes.

"Beth... you know it... its...it was... just a spur of the thing Beth!" I was now pleading.

Mercifully, Beth's stance softened.

"I agree with you Rach. You probably just thought about it, remembered the good times, and forgot about it even before the sentence ended. But that's not the way Chris sees it." She said. "For him, it was a statement of how he could not satisfy you. You virtually emasculated him there honey! In front of everyone, you pointed out that he cannot satisfy you."

"No, I did not!" I said, slamming the cup on the table. "All I did was to say that no one satisfied me..." and my mouth fell open at that realization!!

"Oh God" was all I could say. Before I felt the beginning of tears starting. "Oh Holy God!!" was all I could think of saying.

I knew it in my heart. There was only one man who loved me and satisfied me. No one ever came close. And that was Chris.

So why the hell did I just talk shit about Brian in front of Chris and the crowd? I didn't know. 

I wanted Chris to know. To understand. That there was no man that was more important to me than he was. And no one pleased my pussy more than he did in bed. Bar none.

He was the complete man for me. He was my universe. This was something I needed to talk to Chris with. Convince him about. Of course, there would always be someone better, but in a philosophical sense. For me, Chris was my only lover and husband that I ever wanted. One I intended to keep and stay old with. Fuck Brian and all my lovers before I married.

But first, I had to get my Chris back. In this frame of mind, he was not my husband. He was just someone whose manhood had been insulted by the stupid mistake of a wife who could not think beyond her boyfriend and her life before marriage, in the first place. God, why did I even go there. There was nothing there, anyways. No one could compare to my husband in the sex department. Not to me. No one even came close!!

I was so stupid to talk like that. I should have really cut my tongue to hurt him so. JUST WHY THE FUCK DID I DO IT??!!

I drank deeply from the cup. Thinking, while I did. I went on thinking till the cup drained completely.

Then I straightened on the chair and looked at Beth again. Resolve in my eyes.

"But then would you not say that what he did was also mean, in a way? To walk out in front of everyone? To make me cry in the parking lot?" I asked.

Bethany did not reply. None was necessary. She just kept on looking at me with an expression that said 'do you realize how stupid you sound making that pompous statement?'

I realized how stupid that logic sounded.

I was getting confused. I just didn't know what I was going to do. I was feeling lost and totally at sea. When I heard Francis come down the stairs.

He was plodding heavily. And he looked directly at Bethany. And shook his head as if to say 'No.'.

"Oh my Goddddd..!!" was all I could say before the tears came.

# # # # #

An hour had passed since Francis had descended from the stairs and sat with us on the kitchen table, sharing the coffee. We spoke about how to deal with this problem and other things related to getting Chris to accept it meant nothing, when I decided to get it out of my system.

"How does this happen, Beth?" I asked, bewildered. And slightly angry. "Why the hell are men so self-conscious about their dick size?"

Both Bethany and Francis continued looking at me.

"I mean, that's it in the end, is it not? He felt inadequate the moment I told him that Brian satisfied me better, because HE thought, it meant that I was comparing my satisfaction derived as a function of his dick size! He knows I know he has a smaller dick than Brian's. The fact that it satisfies me completely and its enough for me, that Brian is actually a freak of nature, but Chris is average is of no importance is it not? No, he cannot see that but he just has to compare this mentally, isn't that it? That dick size... why the fuck are men so sensitive about it? I asked.

"I mean, sure, even Chris jokes that my... pussy is not tight enough after one child. Sure, I know that. But I don't take offense to that. Why the hell are they so sensitive about their cocks?" I asked, fear seeping from my voice, not really willing to accept the train of thought that it was offensive, what I did back there at the reunion, which would be too much for me to bear. I was trying to save myself here. And my marriage.

"It's a male thing, is it not? Their bloody sensitivity to that. They want to be the guy with the biggest cock in the room. I don't understand why the hell they are so primitive when it comes to their cocks?" I asked.

I decided to press on, when I saw no responses forthcoming from either of them.

"Why are they so easily offended if we joke about the length of their dicks?" I continued.

"Because, you were not joking. First point." Said Francis.

Both me and Beth stared at him. He was not the one to get in between a domestic matter between two friends. So this was something new. Something unanticipated. 

To hear what Francis had to say, to hear him speak, where he had never spoke before, was... new.

"Secondly," he said, "men are never conscious about their cock size."

Both me and Bethany looked at each other and then at him. 

This was the worse piece of crock I had ever heard. 

Ever.

"Are you serious, Francis?" I asked. Still not believing that a mature and worldly-wise man like Francis could make such a statement!!

"Yes. Dead." He said.

"But honey... everything we know about you... about men... says otherwise!" chimed Bethany.

"Then you and Rachael... and anyone else who believes so don't know anything about men." He continued solemnly.

"What... what do you mean?" I asked.

This was something far-reaching. Something way different than that I had been hearing since my teenage. 

Men don't care about the length of their cocks??!! 

You just got to be kidding me!

"You see," he stated simply, "men don't care about the length of their cocks. They care about the subsequent implications."

Both me and Beth sat in silence.

What the hell in good fuck was Francis talking about?

Implications? 

Men not interested in how long their cocks are?

Was he from the same planet?

Francis must have looked at our faces. He sighed, then went on.

"Men, don't care whether their cocks are four inches or ten inches. But the IMPLICATIONS, of a four inch or ten inch! That, THAT is what causes them to be sensitive!! You see, men fear that a four-incher will not satisfy a woman. A ten-incher will please a woman. The size of their cocks does not matter. But the IMPLICATION that their smaller cock will not satisfy a woman... THAT is what gets them upset. Of course, everybody thinks, including what's written in popular literature, that men with small cocks are upset because of their size. Its not the size. Dammit!! It's NEVER been about the size. It's what the size CAN do, or lack of it CANNOT, that is what upsets them!!" He said.

"And Rachael, you never commented on his average cock. You commented on what men fear the most -- the IMPLICATION of an average cock. That it cannot satisfy a woman. And when you said no one ever satisfied you like Brian, you acted on that implication. He was not hurt because it implied he had an average cock. He was hurt because it implied his average cock did not SATISFY you!" he finished.

Both Beth and myself were staring at him with open mouths. I was closer to tears now. 

"I... Francis... honey...I STILL cannot believe it!!" Said Beth, incredulously.

"Sure," said Francis, "tell a man he has slender fingers. Or stubby fingers or wobbly legs or... or spindly arms. Is he offended?"

Somewhere, something was beginning to make sense.

But it was such a drastic departure from what I, or Beth, or everyone was typically conditioned to know throughout our lives, that we still found it difficult to believe!

"Alright!" I said. "I agree with you. Just for the time being. Still, why the hell did he make so much of a fuss over so small a thing?" I asked.

And this time, before Francis could answer, Beth did.

"Because, for him, its important. Because he's a man. And you cannot relate to him in that department. Because you're a woman!" This time it was Bethany.

I stared at Bethany.

"What do you mean Beth? That I cannot relate to it?" I asked.

"You see Rach," she continued, "men place the satisfaction of a woman sexually, up there with the top two things in their lives. But women place love, children and security as the top-priority things in their lives. Sure sex is very, very important to a woman as well. Its just that it not their very top priority. If he joked about how crappy a homemaker you were, you'd be far more angry than if he mentioned how lousy a lay you were. Would it not?" she queried.

I had to admit, it was making sense. But I was afraid. And fear sometimes does not allow you to accept your mistakes.

"Sorry Beth," I announced. "I STILL don't get it. I still can't relate to it. I still cannot believe that he would react in this way." I said.

"Then let me help you relate." interjected Francis.

We both looked at him as he took a deep breath and looked at me in the eye.

"Rachael, would you feel bad, if your husband told you that one of his ex had a tighter pussy and that you were never able to milk his cock the way her pussy did?" he asked.

"Of course!!" I responded. "But I'd take it in my stride because I know it could be! And I would never have sulked and gotten angry at him for telling it." I added.

"Yes. That's because of what Beth said. That women don't really have sexual satisfaction as their top two priorities when they look for a life mate. Okay then." He said.




Man Enough



"Now, how about Chris telling in front of his friends that Harry is a mentally-challenged child?"

My eyes grew wide!

Why the hell was Francis bringing Harry, our son, into it?

"WHAT?" I asked.

"That Harry is a spastic? That your son drools on his plate and has no motor movement co-ordination?" he continued.

"WHAT??!!" I asked. It was too fast. I was getting angrier and angrier. My only point was ---- don't get my son into it; my son was my highest priority, right after Chris!!

"Are you there yet?" continued Francis.

"Huh?" I muttered.

"How does it feel for Chris to say that Harry wets his bed even at this age?" Francis seemed to be on a roll!

"THAT'S ENOUGH FRANCIS!!" I shouted. "Don't talk about Harry this way!!" I was passing angry looks to Bethany. Asking her to control what Francis was saying.

Bethany was just sitting there, staring intently at me.

"Why? Is Harry really that bad?"

"NO!" I shouted.

"Did I just blurt out the truth about Harry?" he asked.

"No even close!" I nearly shouted.

"So you mean to say, I was lying all the time and speaking all trash." He continued.

"You don't say!" I retorted sharply.

"They why the fuck are you so upset about it if its not the truth? After all, its just a small thing, is it not? You KNOW that Harry is not mentally-challenged. So why are you getting so pissed up?" he asked calmly.

"You see Rach," that was Beth, "you feel your anger exploding because you care about Harry. While Harry and Chris' cock are two completely different things, the intensity you feel when someone slags your son, is the same Chris feels when you slagged his performance! That's what I meant when I said you can't relate to his hurt because he was a man and you are a woman. Because as a woman, your son is the top two priority in your life. Just as Chris' ability to satisfy a woman is for him. And honey, you just took it away. Here, in front of only the 3 of us, you blew up when we spoke about Harry, can you imagine what happened to Chris when you spoke about his not satisfying you in front of everyone?" she added.

"But I never said Chris never satisfied me!" I exclaimed.

"Sure. But Brian satisfied you better. That's what you implied, didn't you? You see, husbands have to be the number one in a few things in your life. Feeling sexually satisfied is one of them. For the husband, at least. And there you were, mooning over how much better Brian was! Even if you didn't mean it to come out the way it did, IT DID!" explained Beth.

"So tell me, why did you feel so offended at Francis slagging Harry?" she asked again.

MY GOD!

The steam went from my body. My eyes grew wide!! No. NO. NO. NO... This COULD not be happening...

"Because... because..." God! I could not think of anything to say!

"Because...its not how you're supposed to talk about my son!!" I blurted out, finally. Having no answer to the questions that my mind was now throwing at me!

I looked at Francis.

"No Rachael," he said softly, "its because you relate to it now. And I knew that talking about Harry would get you on the edge. I should not have said this. But I still did," he added, "so, how do you feel now?"

I was close to tears! How did I feel now? THAT BASTARD!! I was hurting more than ever. Why drag my innocent son into this. There was nothing wrong with him.. He was my son. I loved him. Why did he have to speak such things about him.. Why did he..HE... WHY...DID...I...then...??? MY GOD, Was that it??!! It was a small thing for ME, and this Harry thing was huge for me. And was it the same for Chris? Small for me but HUGE for HIM??!! My god, is THIS what it felt like? Did the hurt take so much from him??!!"

The revelation was too much. I was starting to tear up.

"Oh God! Oh God!" was all I kept saying.

"You see Rachael," his voice was very soft now, "for you, it was a statement. For him it was serious. Just the way the statement about your son was serious for you. But not serious enough for me. If Chris did get angry at my statement about Harry, do you think the intensity of his anger would be the same level as yours? Nowhere even near close, Rachael," he said, "Do you get it now?" he finished.

"NO!" I said. I was standing up now. Anger. Mixed with guilt. And a realization that it may NOT have been that minor a thing, began taking a hold of me. And I was scared. Scared to figure out what this meant. The implications... My God!! accepting the implications would make me a serious offender in the eyes of my husband!!"

I reacted. With fear. And like everyone in fear, I reacted, unreasonably. Refusing to see the light of the day, even though everything lay bare before me now!!

"It's stupid. It's ridiculous!! This is CRAP! You just CANNOT relate what you said, with what I said to Christopher! You JUST cannot!! They are two different things! You're doing this on purpose!!" I was shouting now.

And it was now becoming obvious to both of them that I was indeed getting it.

"Beth... plea...just leave now Beth. Both of you. Leave my house now. Please!! I don't want to talk to you guys for some time now." I was breathing hard now. 

I swear if Francis stayed back I'd physically attack him with the kitchen knife or something for slagging my son! Oh God! Is this what Chris felt about me then? Dear God, HOW stupid could I have been??!! WHAT HAD I DONE??!!

"No problems Rachael." Said Beth.

That statement made me realize I had made another serious blunder.

After all, it was so strange to hear Beth addressing me a Rachael, and not Rach. 

She had not done that in the last five years or so that I remembered.

Unless she was very, very angry at me.

# # # # #

A few seconds passed after my outburst at Beth and Francis, without any one of us doing anything. Then Bethany stood up and nodded to Francis.

Without saying a word, both of them walked towards the door. Just as they were about to open it, I shouted.

"Beth... wait!"

They stopped. A look of anger flashing on Beth's face.

I ran to them as fast as I could. Then I stood near them, tears streaking my eyes.

And in a move completely unexpected by either Beth or Francis, I leaned forward and embraced Beth tightly.

She seemed surprised, but returned the hug.

"Oh God, Beth. I am so sorry. I never meant to ask you to leave. You were only trying to... Francis! I am ashamed. I am sorry. Please!" was all I could mutter.

Francis smiled. And when I released Beth, I could see that she too was smiling.

"No Rach. We understand." She said. And when I looked up to her, she nodded her head in a positive motion. "Really!" she added.

"Francis..." I started to say, but he stopped me mid-sentence.

"No Rachael. I'd like to apologize to about Harry. But I wanted you to feel what Chris felt." He concluded.

"Francis," I said, "I STILL cannot completely relate what you said about Harry and what I said to Chris. And I don't want to lie to you both, my best pals, I don't think I probably will," I said, "but I am willing to admit that I was very stupid in doing what I did there, admit that I hurt my husband badly, and concede that what I commented about Brian was not only uncalled for and in bad taste, but also more serious that I cared to admit." I blurted out.

"Then, that is enough for us, Rach." Replied Beth, one of her hands still clutched in mine for supporting me.

"And we'll do whatever we can to help you and Chris tide this over." Replied Francis.

I was relieved. And just kind of slumped in her arms.

She supported me then took me over to the kitchen table again.

"Beth... thanks..." was all I could tell her. She smiled. She made another pot of coffee for me, put a single cup and front of me, and as I began to drink, turned to leave.

"Beth, I said I was sorry." I replied, panicking again, dropping the cup to the table.

"No honey,"she replied "we're not angry any longer. We just need you to understand that we are always there for you."

"Then why...?" I asked.

"Because you need to put an end to it sweetheart. And you are the only one who can finish it." Said Bethany, even as she and Francis walked towards the door.

"But Beth!" I shouted after he, "what do I do? I don't know!" I said.

"Sweetie," she said, a grim expression on her face, "unfortunately, that is something I have no idea about."

She gently closed the door after they both had stepped outside. After Beth had blown me a kiss.

With my husband in the bedroom who wouldn't speak to me, with my guilt over how I could have allowed this, even accidentally, and most importantly, how I had no ideas what to say to Chris that would make all this go away, and bring our happy life back to where it was. With Beth and Francis out of our house, just me and Chris. I felt so alone.

And for the first time, I began fearing for our marriage. 

The tears, though, came unbidden as I gently wept and rocked myself in the darnkess.

# # # # #

I awoke to find everything as I had left it when I must have fallen asleep. The sleep did not come easy. For the first time in my life, I had cried myself to sleep. What made matters worse was that everytime I thought about how bad I felt, I would remember how bad it would have been for Chris. And my guilt worsened. There was no one I hated more in this world more than myself right now. And I knew that if I did not do anything about it soon, I would find our marriage languishing in the doldrums. It would be very hard. But I had to make amends to my Chris. The problem was, how do you tell your husband that he satisfied you completely, when you have unconsiously blurted out that he would never be able to rise to the level of your old boyfriend. I had no answer. This situation was the first time in it's occurence. And I was ill-equipped to handle it.

This was not an on-off switch that you turned on and off at will. How do you reassure your husband that he does matter. That he is the number one. Would always remain so. And more importantly, how do you prevent that germ of a thought taking place in his mind everytime he held you or tried to make love to you in the future, that perhaps you were, uncosnciously, comparing him to your older boyfriend?

This was not as trival as I thought it was.

And that scared the hell out of me.

The most fearsome thought, however, was what happened when he found out that he could no longer make love to me? Because of that mental image of me sitting on my ex-boyfriend's cock and it pushing past my uterus on a chair?. Becuase of that mental image, that I went wild when this happened and came in litres. Images and sounds and smells, that *I* so foolishly put in my husband's head. How do you get past this?

Dear God, I had absolutely no idea!!

But the panic that filled me at that thought, wanted me to immediately go up and speak with Chris. I didn't care at this point that I was not prepared. I had to speak with Chris. And do my best to love him and reassure him that he was, always was, and always would be, my main man. Hurridely, I brushed, took a bath and keeping the coffee on the burner, I ran up as fast as I could to climb upstairs to the bedroom. I waited near the closed door for the moment, then gingerly, knocked.

"Chris?" I called out. I dared not use my usual call 'honey' or 'darling'. That would seem too self-serving. "Chris, you there sweetheart?"

Well, I tried, but it inevitably slipped out. Sweetheart. Right. 

But I had to talk to Chris. So I pushed these thoughts back and knocked again.

"Chris?" I asked. A little loudly this time. Strange, there was no response.

By the fourth knock, I began getting worried. I hope he did not do anything in his current state. When all of a sudden, the realization hit me square in the guts! 

MY GOD...!! He had taken sleeping pills! He was in the bathroom with his wrists slit and blood everywhere!! He had taken an overdose of.. of... of, well, something!! Thoughts ran unbidden in my mind. Horror suddenly piled up on my heart. Oh my God! My Chris! My Chris!! Somewhere, far away though, my thoughts were distracted by what seemed to be the distant ringing of a telephone. A couple or rings more, and I realized I was still standing outside the bedroom door, and the phone was ringing in our hall. My panic, though, showed no signs of abating.

The phone rang and I continued to ignore it, wanting to talk to my Chris first. But it's persistence would not go away. It suddenly occured to me that it had to be Beth, wanting to ask me about how things were and I had to tell her that my Chris... my Chris...had...in the bedroom...because of me...cut...wrists...blood...sleeping pills...something...anything...Oh God!... Beth!! I ran down and picked it up in it's seventh ring.

"Mary."

"Chris!!" I shouted. Half with terror, half with relief, half with God knows what feeling "where are you? I'm trying to get in our bedroom and you never answered. Oh God, chris, I was so worried that you..."

"Pipe down. And listen up, Mary." Chris spoke from the other end. 

I froze.

He rarely used this tone in the house or around me.

"Chris?" I mewled softly in the phone. Not sure where this was getting to.

Dear God! Please. Please!! Don't let him divorce me over this stupid, stupid mistake of mine. I was thinking furiously what I should say to Chris when he spoke again.

"I will be back home in the evening. Or in a day or two - I am not sure. But I don't want you pestering me with calls to my cell. You've fucked me up yesterday. Don't fuck this up now. Don't call me until I call again." he spoke authoratively. Actually, ordered.

"Chris... what...?" I began but he cut me off again.

"And I will not tell this to you again. I am alright. I just need time off. From you." he stated. My heart stopped a couple of beats at that last statement. 

"Uh...Okay hone...Chris... but what... I mean, are you...?" I started.

But it was too late. He had already disconnected the phone.

And I wondered about his strange request. Just what was Chris wanting to do?

(to be continued)

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