Her Boyfriend Jim

Preface: Everyone in this story is over the age of eighteen.

"My boyfriend Jim". I've heard that said so many times during our thirty-seven years of marriage.

The most recent time was while we were out playing Trivia with a group of friends at a local bar. The Trivia moderator had asked the crowd to identify the year in which the movie Poltergeist was released. My wife, Allie, immediately proclaimed '1982'.

Our friend Brie cocked her head towards my wife with a surprised look. Allie just smiled at Brie, "I remember that I saw Poltergeist with my boyfriend Jim. We dated in 1982."

I felt something strange, possibly curiosity, or perhaps jealousy. Do you know how something triggers a cascade of thought in your mind? When years of thinking, feeling, and contemplation are compressed into this concise ball of cerebral and emotional energy that quickly washes over you. It's as if your mind has processed all of the facts and details, and now it just delivers the pure essence of an emotional remembrance.

What I mean, is that I had gotten so used to hearing Allie say 'my boyfriend Jim', that it always elicited a carefree response within me. But this time, it was different. Let me explain.

My wife was a virgin when we met. She dated several boys, but none of this dating was prolonged, nor serious. Jim was the only one that she mentioned by name. They dated for about six months. I gather that Jim wasn't a real popular guy.

Jim probably identified my Allie as an attractive and friendly girl, who had been overlooked by the more popular guys. Don't get me wrong, Allie was cute. She also had sizable breasts.

From Allie's description, I had learned that she and Jim dated like most other conventional couples. They went to movies. He eventually coaxed her into kissing in the front seat of his parent's car.

Jim eventually developed enough courage to grope Allie's breasts through her clothing. What happened next is something that I can almost quote from memory. "He told me that if I didn't have sex with him, he would break up with me. I said 'no'. We stopped dating, but he later tried asking me out again, and I told him 'no'."

That was my wife. An honest and chaste woman. Not completely unsullied - another boy named Jim had kissed her and felt her breasts. But, I challenge anyone to identify someone more unblemished than my Allie.

So, back to the night of Trivia. When I heard the phrase "my boyfriend Jim', it hit just a bit differently. My current thinking was a bit muddied by the salacious stories that I had been reading recently on a website called Literotica. Stories of cuckolding.

I sat there in this bar with our group of friends. I looked at Allie sitting beside me. I wondered how our friends interpreted her comment, 'my boyfriend Jim'.

For Allie to identify a long-ago boyfriend, by name, implies some significance. It meant that Allie was identifying someone with whom she shared meaningful time, even if only in a small measure.

Allie and I have been married for thirty-seven years. I dated before we were married, and when I met Allie I was not a virgin. I had sex with one other girl. Only one, but it was one more than Allie had enjoyed. Selfishly, I felt that my experience put me at some advantage over Allie. It may seem childish, but it's true.

However, I never mentioned any previous girlfriends in front of our friends. Saying 'my girlfriend Mary' seemed aberrant to me. Mentioning my one sexual partner, by name, felt disrespectful to Allie. Allie knew Mary - in fact, they went to the same high school.

So, it wasn't uncommon for Allie to say 'your old girlfriend Mary' when discussing my life before we met. In fact, Allie seemed to take some catty pleasure when mentioning Mary, almost as if she was openly confronting my memories of Mary, and blatantly tarnishing them. Women can be somewhat competitive.

I never minded it when Allie mentioned Mary. Allie and I were serious from the moment we met, and our almost-forty years together have been largely filled with joy and fulfillment. If Allie took some pleasure in mildly scorning my old girlfriend, then it's okay with me.

In truth, Mary and I had been quite serious; we dated for over three years. The relationship included a lot of physical and emotional complexity, and turmoil. I sometimes joke with my closest friends that it was as if Mary was my first wife. Luckily, there was no marriage license. So, the breakup didn't involve lawyers and alimony.

Let me redirect my story back to Allie and the night of Trivia. I am sitting there wondering whether any of our friends took notice when Allie used the phrase, 'my boyfriend Jim'. To name someone from her past had to imply something significant. Am I wrong?

Allie was bringing up someone from forty years ago. I knew that her boyfriend Jim, whom I've never met, only ever kissed and fondled my wife. Allie was clear when she told me that she blocked his more amorous efforts, the times when he tried to progress into greater intimacy.

As I looked at our friends sitting around the table at Trivia, I didn't detect any reaction. Why would I? 'My boyfriend Jim' held no emotional weight for them. But, if I queried our friends for their thoughts, what would they say? I mean, what if I really pressed them for their honest thoughts?

For example, what if I asked our friends Steve and Shirley, "Hey, Allie just mentioned her old boyfriend 'Jim'. If you were being candid, and brutally honest, what did you think about Allie bringing up a boyfriend from forty years ago?"

I would never do it, and I am sure that our friends Steve and Shirley wouldn't easily be compelled to provide a response. But, what if I pressed the issue? What if they were drunk enough to speak plainly, honestly?

Here is what I imagine from Steve, if he was being honest: "Allie, did you sleep with Jim?", "How many times did you go out with Jim before you slept together?", "Does it bother your husband that you slept with Jim?"

Here is what I imagine from his wife, Shirley: "Was Jim cute?", "Was the sex good?", "Did Jim have a big dick?".

Again, these are only what I imagine they would ask in a moment of sheer honesty and curiosity. I can only imagine that they would assume that they had sex. For my wife to bring up a boyfriend from forty years ago - it had to imply some serious level of prolonged dating, and intimacy. Right?

Within this group of friends, only Allie and I knew that Jim was a blip in her lifespan. Yes, he felt her breasts before I did. But, he did not take her virginity - I did. But, only we knew that.

Sitting there, I felt my normal confidence and comfort. My wife had only ever been intimate with me. But no one else knew that. But, perhaps my friends thought that Allie had someone before me. It made Allie seem just a bit more mysterious, perhaps promiscuous. Not immoral, not slutty, just experienced.

I was strangely titillating to think of my wife as someone with a past. As far as anyone knew, Allie was an experienced lover when I met her. If I were Steve, I would now assume that I was Allie's second lover, after Jim. Maybe I wasn't even her second, maybe I was even further along than that.

What if Allie let a few more names loose - my boyfriend Charlie, my boyfriend Max. Imagine her saying 'my boyfriend Tyrone'? I know what I would think if a female friend announced all of those names. Long ago, I would have thought, 'what a slut'. Now, its different. I would find it alluring, and exciting. Because now I know that women want sex almost as much as men.

When Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote the line "'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" I'm sure that he meant emotional love. But, it could also be a Victorian-era method for talking about sex - in a veiled reference. I'm thinking along the lines of, 'it's better to risk the stigma associated with sexual pleasures, rather than missing the youthful opportunity and regretting it in your old age." Does that make sense?

Regardless, I tried to imagine my wife as a practiced lover - someone who had embraced her sexuality, and succumbed to her youthful, lustful desires. I could imagine 'her boyfriend Jim' pulling her clothes off as she dutifully resisted. I could imagine her youthful, sexy body for the taking.

I could even imagine an almost lecherous Jim stroking Allie's pussy. Enjoying the moments in which he pushes further into the realm of possibility, and testing her resolve. I can almost see them in the back seat of his family's car as he pushes his pants and underwear down.

Would he have used condom? Would she have had the sense to insist? Would he push it in with confidence, or would he await her permission? Would she gasp, or cry? I am sure that they he would have raced to finish. What boy would not get lost in the moment when granted unexpected access to the most holy of treasures?

I can see it happening. I can almost enjoy wanting it to have happened. Sitting here with so many years of privileged, and singular access to my wife's body. It is now safe for me to imagine her with another man - mostly because I know that it never happened.

Sometimes, I actually wish that she had experienced moments of lust, moments of surrender, of release. It's now safe to see her as another person, to see her as someone other than my respectable wife.

Maybe that's where cuckolding comes from - a place of safety. She's mine. I know that other men see her as attractive. If fact, I can think of many friends and acquaintances who would have eagerly taken her to bed, if given the chance.

It's a bit of a thrill, and a shot of confidence, thinking about how her male coworkers have regarded my Allie. There must have been dozens of men who looked at her, wondering what she looked like naked. How many of these men simply thought about bending her over a desk?

It's strange thinking of my wife as a sexual being. It turns me on.

Later that night, as we drove home from Trivia, I couldn't resist, "So, Allie. You find the strangest times to bring up your old boyfriend Jim."

She sounded part offended, but possibly curious, "What does that mean?"

"Well, you mentioned your boyfriend Jim to our friends. On the one hand, you dated him forty years ago. On the other hand, you mention him as if he were a meaningful milestone. Not many people bring up a boyfriend from forty years ago. It just seems odd that you would even mention him. You specifically said, 'I remember that the movie was released in 1982, because that's when I was dating Jim'".

Allie looked at me. Her eyes had that slight haze that accompanies her drinking, "So, what's the big deal? I dated Jim for a few months, forty years ago. You can't possibly be jealous."

"I'm not jealous. It' just strange, that's all. For example, people say 'I remember where I was when Kennedy was shot'. The event was the key factor - Kennedy was shot. Where you were was just a coincidence. You only remember it because it's fixed in your mind; where you were when you heard about Kennedy."

Allie looked even more befuddled. I continued, "When you say 'I remember something because that's when I was dating Jim', it sounds as if dating Jim was the key event - kind of like Kennedy being shot. You are saying that you remember the movie because you were with Jim. Dating Jim seems to be a key milestone."

Allie looked confused, possibly upset. I felt that I had better drop the discussion. My point made sense to me, but obviously Allie was not following my logic, or possibly she didn't want to discuss the topic any further.

We drove on in silence. After a few minutes, Allie looked at me, "Honey, why are you being so sensitive about Jim? I've told you that we only dated a few months. He meant nothing to me. It was so many years ago."

"It's alright", I said. It came out different than I intended. I meant to convey that it really didn't matter. In fact, I was a bit excited thinking about my wife's dalliance into promiscuity. It made her desirable, and cemented the fact that I was the one who competed and won her companionship, and her body.

She took my response as if I was resigned to dropping the discussion because I was truly upset, and reluctant to continue our talk. Obviously, she felt the need to continue.

"Honey, I chose you. Jim was nothing. We never really had sex."

Focusing on the road now became secondary. My thoughts wholly focused on her last words, 'We never really had sex'.

My mouth began to form the question 'what?'. I felt as if I was punched in the gut. I wanted to choose my next words carefully.

Allie sensed my hesitation, "Baby, what's going on? How could you possibly be upset after all these years? I mentioned Jim, so what? I've told you about him. We were so young. It was before I even met you. What the fuck is going on in your peabrain?"

"I, um....", was what came out. I really had not intended for this to be a contentious discussion. I didn't want Allie to think that I was upset. In fact, I had been slightly turned on thinking about her innocent fooling around in her younger days. I thought that it was cute, visualizing my wife as a horny young woman. It was thrilling to imagine some young man yearning for her, and how his desperate lust provided her a bit of naughty fun.

Imagining some guy, actually Jim, fondling my wife's tits was kind of exciting. I just wanted to hear her tell me once more about how he tried to screw her. How she had the opportunity, but decided against it. I just wanted to fuel my newly-discovered cuckold fantasies. Nothing more.

She seemed more determined, "You are acting so childish. Shit, I know that you and Mary had plenty of sex before we met. If fact, as soon as you told me that you dated Mary, I knew that you had sex. Mary had a bit of a reputation." Now Allie seemed to be going on the offensive.

She continued, "I never cared. I still don't care whether you were screwing Mary, or anyone else, before we dated. What's the big fucking deal?" This reaction was fueled by more than the alcohol... and I could think of no means to defuse the situation.

I was resigned to receiving my punishment, even if I didn't deserve it. Serves me right for discussing the topic after drinking.

A few more minutes of silence. I could tell that she ruminating the topic - upset in having to defend herself. "Do you need for me to tell you again? I've told you about Jim and me. He was just a goofy guy who asked me out. No one else was asking me out."

I tried to find a way to assure her that I was fully content, "No Allie. Let's just drop it". I realized immediately that I had said the wrong thing.

"Fuck! You really are being an asshole", she mumbled. "I know that you and Mary fucked like rabbits. Now, you're going to get all high-and-mighty about what I did with Jim?"

My mind raced. She just said 'what I did with Jim'. What had she done with Jim? I had always pictured the two of them experimenting with French kissing and a little heavy petting. I seemed to have innocently dropped into some circle of Hell.

Allie signed, heavily. "Jim and I never had sex. I told you that he was always trying to feel my breasts - I have big breasts. The one time we got down to our underwear. I told him that we definitely were not going to have sex... and we never did. The one time he pushed my panties aside and touched my vagina I totally freaked out."

Fuck, my head was about to explode. She's acting as if she is recounting some harmless, youthful exploit - for the hundredth time. When in fact, she is telling me a fucking critical detail that she's never shared. I've known her for forty years, and she never once told me that Jim fingered her!

I wasn't upset. I had started the whole conversation hoping to fuel my latent cuckolding fantasy. I was getting exactly what I wanted, and so much more. I just needed for it to stop.

Allie looked straight ahead as if she was searching her memory, "He was so horny, and he told me that all of his friends were having sex. I told him that 'I didn't care'. I wasn't the kind of girl, and I didn't care what his friends, and their girlfriends, were doing."

Allie sounded more reflective, "I got so tired of him begging for sex. After several times messing around in the backseat of his car, he begged me to give him something more. He held my panties to the side, and I could see his boner sticking out. He asked for permission to put the head of his penis inside - just the head. I don't know why, but I said 'okay'."

My whole world stopped, or spun, or something. I could feel my heart beating, thumping. I had to convince myself of what I had just heard.

All of these years I had believed that my wife was a virgin when we met, when we married. Now, there was only one clear thought in my mind - my penis was not the first one to enter Allie's vagina.

We've been married thirty-seven years. I can't take back time. The dating, the wedding, the kids, the life together. I don't want to take back time. I love our life together. It's not like she had cheated on me.

I really didn't care... I think. I thought that I married a virgin, I hadn't. It was never a big deal to me. But, it wasn't a big deal because it didn't have to be. It was easy thinking 'I don't care if she's a virgin', because I knew that she was! But she wasn't.

Did that make me cuckold? No. But someone was there before me. Her fucking boyfriend Jim.