People have always asked me how I felt being married to Fred. They saw him as such a gentleman who wouldn’t hurt a fly but they didn’t really know him.
Fred was gentle, yes. I liked that about him, it was one of the reasons why I married him, it wasn’t the major reason. The major reason I married him was because Fred, as gentle as he is to the people outside, became a beast when he closed the sitting room doors behind him.
Be calm, this isn’t another story about domestic violence, rather this is a story of a woman’s best first year of marriage to the best man she could ever marry.
I met Fred first in University, we drifted on and off and then apart from each other for a while before he found me again at the traditional marriage of a former schoolmate. He was doing well in his business and looked like he was quite comfortable.
I was still trying my best not to get laid off due to national economic palaver at my third job in four years. We got close enough and started dating. Throughout the time we dated he was always conserved. I had to force him to tell me more about himself sometimes.
He was so introverted, people wondered how he managed to run his successful business if he found it so difficult to interact socially. I began to understand him little by little after spending six months as his serious girlfriend.
Not once in those six months did he ask me to spend the night with him. He barely even touched me when we were together. I couldn’t bring myself to bringing the subject up with him just so he wouldn’t think I was loose or doing too much as is the general perception of women who initiated intimacy with men.
I continued to enjoy his company as much as I should and was even beginning to think our relationship wasn’t really going anywhere serious when he suddenly took me to a very private restaurant he loved to go eat at and proposed to me.
I couldn’t contain my excitement as I cried and said “yes” repeatedly. I kissed him much deeper that day than I’d ever kissed anyone and suddenly I felt so in the mood for a bit more and wanted so badly to make love to him right there but I controlled my urges and let him lead.
He told me we were going clubbing that night. I looked at him in awe. Fred, going clubbing?
He had told me he disliked the loud noise of music that he didn’t like and being around so many people he didn’t know and that was why he avoided going to clubs, but that night… he had a few strong drinks and let himself loose.
Although, his overly conservative nature still hindered him from having the best of the fun that night but I liked that he wasn’t all stiffness and rigidity.
Later that night… we both went back to his place even though he had suggested he drop me at mine.
Once we got to his place I was all over him, kissing him and groping him with my arms. He just held my waist and did his best not to remove the hands from exactly where they were.
He kissed me back but not as much as I would’ve wanted. I wanted more, needed more. It was the happiest night I’d ever had with him and I wanted to top it off with an orgasm or two. I kept kissing and groping and tugged at his t-shirt, letting him know how bad I wanted him.
He finally disengaged from me and told me to hold on. I stood there, looking bewildered. Most guys would climb mountains just to be in the same room with me, some would kill to get me out of my clothes and in bed. I was throwing myself at a guy that just proposed to me and he was telling me to hold on?
“There’s something I have to tell you before we get any further than this” Fred said
I felt my world spin around me as I expected the worst…
To be continued.
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