[Continued from "Just When It Was Perfect … (Part 5).]

Then there was the Vet. We met through OkCupid.  He was nice.  He was married, which I liked.  That meant he didn’t want – or couldn’t have – any sort of traditional relationship with me.

That his marriage was open was even better.  I find that the guys who sneak around behind someone’s back are either all business – just fucking, no conversation or hanging out – or whiny emotional messes who whinge about the lack of affection in their relationships.  I had been through a spate of dalliances that included a “relationship” with a man who was depressed and who sought me out when his wife was out of town.  As I was depressed at the time, too, I made figured it was best to not get too involved with him; we fucked a couple of times and thereafter I didn’t have any contact with him.

There were no such issues with the Vet.  His marriage was open, and had come to that only after she had come out as a “hot wife.”  For some time – I was never interested in asking how long – she had been fucking other men while he was monogamous.  He liked hearing about her fucking other men.  He liked fucking her after she fucked other men.  He liked – though seemed to do very little in reality – watching her fuck other men.

Cool.  That was fine with me.  What was a little annoying was that he talked about little but his wife’s sex life.  According to him, she was looking for “the perfect cock,” a guy with a big cock who was smart and on whom she could rely for regular and steady sex.  Said perfect cock would have to understand that she was married and had two pre-teen sons, so she had responsibilities.  According to the Vet, Mrs. Vet wanted one guy to fulfill multiple roles.

I told him I thought that was ridiculous.  Considering her husband couldn’t be everything she wanted/needed, how could one man be everything else she wanted/needed?  Perhaps he didn’t pass on my sage advice to his wife.

In the mean time, her husband was tall – one of her requirements for “the perfect cock” was that he be over six feet – and had a thick cock – another of her requirements.  I’m certainly not one to say anyone “should” be happy with something s/he is not, but I am one to say one should understand that happiness does not come from more of what one already has.

I met her, the night I had a foursome with her husband; she went off with her date for the evening.  The night we met we talked about the man – other than her husband – whom we had both fucked.  She repeated that he did not qualify as “the perfect cock” and that he was a premature ejaculator.  Maybe he was, though I never experienced that; she was likely just hotter than I was.

I asked the Vet to be one of my regulars.  He was to be my Wednesday night guy.  He agreed, but various things got in the way; sometimes he had family obligations, sometimes I wanted to spend time with the Viking when he was in town.  We got together when we could, which seemed to be not that often.  I understood he had family and professional obligations, but his flakiness added to all his other shortcomings – one of which was his big moth.

Not a freakishly physically large mouth, but one which talked too fucking much.  He told me about his wife and the guy I’d fucked.  I liked hearing the gossip, but I should have known he didn’t just blab to me.

Early in our “relationship” I told him about Sugar, with whom I’d conducted my “Slave Auditions.”  I told him that she also had a profile on OkCupid.  And – stupidly, I fully admit – I told him her OkCupid user name.  Naively I assumed the Vet, an adult in his 40s, would have some fucking discretion.

I was wrong.  Sugar soon contacted me in a panic.  She wanted to know why an unknown guy – who had a creepy, Olan Mills-looking photo on his OkCupid page – was contacting her.  She knew to ask me because he had, along with disclosing that he knew who she was, told her how he knew – through me. I apologized to her profusely.

I also told him he had fucked up.  He didn’t learn, which was clear when I told him another bit of information about someone I had fucked.  He soon disclosed to someone – based on information I had given him – that he “knew” things about her, things I had disclosed to him in confidence.  Yeah, I’m slow on the uptake.  But I definitely learned after two times.

I hadn’t heard from him for a while when I got an email from the Vet telling me he was rethinking the open relationship thing.  He had already offered to drive with me and my animals to Chicago; he was, after all, a veterinarian.  After I asked if his offer of driving me to the Midwest was still open I got no response at all.

Until he decided to send me a link to a stupid online news story.  He used to send me such stories when we were actually fucking, but they were not welcomed even then; they were lame.  After he basically told me to fuck off without explanation, I didn’t have patience for his shit.  I told him as much, via email.

His response included an emoticon.  If he didn’t know I hate emoticons then it’s true he should never fuck me again.

[More to come.  Two more guys.]

I swear.  True story.

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