Utopia’s End: Alex and Erika
Mary Not Wollstonecraft
Utopia’s End: Alex and Erika
Alex and Erika have an ideal marriage…
NOT!
An Interracial Cuckold Story with a Twist
Mary Not Wollstonecraft
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© Copyright 2023 by Mary Not Wollstonecraft
NOTE: Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously—any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, actual events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Utopia’s End: Alex and Erika
It is quite peculiar that they lived their happy life, secure knowing that both were in love, and all they needed for happiness was the other person. This idyllic Utopia lasted for seven years. One cannot envision how terrible it is to discover you aren’t the sun and moon to your life partner.
Unless, of course, you’ve been there.
Nor can you grasp how difficult it is to tell the most important person in your life that they are inadequate for anything. Especially when that thing is as significant as making love. Again, unless you’ve told someone how pathetic they are at lovemaking.
Both sides of this equation are of equal significance. The man and woman are deeply in love. And yet, something between them was amiss. Their connection was incomplete physically. He knew it, but when she’d never voiced her disappointment, he shoved the worry of his adequacy, pore technique, or underdevelopment to the back of his mind.
She also knows all is not right. She believed the fault for her lack of enjoyment to be some terrible deficiency inside herself.
The two of them were unadventurous.
Serving as a midlevel manager in his company, Alex was an uninspired man. He shuffled paper, overseeing 20 employees, and counted each hour of the day as one hour closer to getting away from work. He’d stumbled upward through sheer luck and settled into a humdrum life.
Alex worked his job with bland, passionless plodding, no desire for advancement, and no drive for excellence. The fellow had no hobbies other than watching TV or reading a book. At one point, he contemplated joining a bowling league. After joining, it became a habit, but he was mediocre, and his teammates kept him strictly for his handicap.
Bowling bored him to tears. However, he stayed on the team because they always said they needed him. Bowling bored him to tears. However, he remained on the team because they always claimed they needed him. Behind his back, they made fun of him, the butt of every joke.
When Erika met Alex, they were both wallflowers. Alex was an awkward, skinny man with thick glasses, an untamed cowlick, and poor social skills. Not precisely shy, but fully aware of his shortcomings and hesitant to talk to women.
Erika was a curvy blonde who lacked confidence. Uncomfortable with her body and face, while she realized she was beautiful, she didn’t like attention. Erika, dressed to hide her assets, didn’t wear makeup, hunched her shoulders, and never initiated eye contact. When anyone, male or female, looked her in the eye, she glanced away.
They met at a mixer in college and somehow found one another. They got married in less than a month.
Alex had barely enough dick to break her hymen. His cock was thin. After making love a few times, Erika hardly felt him at all. Erika did what many women did to please their men. She faked orgasms. And all was bump happy and playing at sex until she realized it wasn’t her.
No, Erika wasn’t the one lacking. It was him.
The seventh year of marriage is always tricky. Why else would it be called the seven-year itch? And Erika had this ich, which Alex never scratched. Alex was a three minute wonder. Foreplay took less than three minutes, and sometimes, he didn’t get inside her, and that’s all she wrote.
Losing his load, inside or out, he’d roll over, turn out the light, and fall asleep without so much as a, ‘Thank you, ma’am.’
This left Erika lying there, unfulfilled.
By the middle of the seventh year, Erika had had enough of their sex life. Erika changed her attitude. Dressing in sexy clothing, Erika stood with perfect posture, taking pleasure when others noticed her. She ventured out to coffee shops, shopping, or even a midafternoon drink in a bar.
Erika flirted with men in the coffeehouse or bars.
That was all flirting, toying with young or older men. Twirling her hair, smiling and laughing at their jokes, but breaking it off before it went too far. Erika loved to put her hand on some muscled guy’s forearm.
He’d flex every muscle, and she’d talk to him, stroking her fingers over his arm. Her engagement and wedding rings gleamed in his eyes. Sometimes, she got one of them a little worked up, she’d excuse herself and head to the restroom.
But rather than come back, she slipped out the backdoor, headed home, and relieved herself with her fingers. Erika was the best lover Erika ever had. She knew precisely where and how to tease her body. When to pinch, when to caress, and when to squeeze. When to go slow, when to speed up, and when the ecstasy washed over her, she came as her husband never could make her.
The odd thing, the unforgivable matter, was that Alex didn’t notice the change in his wife.
One Friday night, after six minutes of foreplay and one minute of lovemaking, Alex lost his load. Per usual, he rolled over, turned out the light, and cuddled up with his pillow for sleep.
Erika pleased herself. Taking her time, she brought herself into orgasm after orgasm.
Alex heard, and through his eyelashes, saw.
For twenty minutes, he viewed his wife’s self-loving. Studied her body’s reactions, listened to her climaxes, and knew Erika never had this from him. Her masturbation shattered Alex’s delusions. Her repeated autoeroticism destroyed his perceptions about himself. When Alex tried to start contact for a second round of fun, she turned her back on him.
“You had your chance.”
“Baby, what does this mean?”
Turning back to him, Erika gazed into his eyes, which watered with tears threatening to fall. Such a pussy, she thought.
“You’ve never been good at sex. I love you, but Alex, darling, I’m no longer dependent on you for my enjoyment. Now go to sleep.”
Alex thought about arguing with her. He wished he might claim this was her fault. After all, she never treated him like she did herself. But that was a lie. He knew failure to please her was his alone. Erika had teased him in foreplay often. He lost his load before they got going every time.
For the first time, Alex understood his own shortcomings.
Once she turned him on, Alex nutted. He couldn’t stop himself. Weeping into his pillow, Alex eventually fell asleep to her light snoring. In the morning, he woke to the smell of fresh cookies and pies.
He wandered into the kitchen. Erika was making scrambled eggs.
“I made us breakfast,” she said. “Did you sleep well?” Her voice was cheery, entirely unlike the heavy disappointment he felt.
Alexi’s plate overflowed with Erika’s perfect pancakes and other breakfast goodies. While they ate, Erika talked about someone moving in over the road, and he listened without hearing her.
“I’m giving them the cookies and a pie for a housewarming gift.”
“That’s nice. What kind of couple are they?” He didn’t care.
“Well, I think he’s a black man in his late fifties or early sixties. Haven’t seen her yet.”
As soon as Alex trotted upstairs to the shower, Erica left the house.
When the black man across the street opened the door that morning, the blonde bombshell stood there, a bag of cookies in one hand and pie in the other. Abraham understood what she wanted. But he’d let her make the moves.
Erika walked in. Her heart raced.
“Hey, neighbor, I’m Erika Hemingway,”
“Good morning, Erika. My name is Abraham Jefferson.”
“Good morning, Mr. Jefferson. Is your wife here?”
“Please, call me Abraham. I’m afraid you’re twenty years too late. I’m a widower,” Abraham said, closing closed the door behind her while he admired her ass as she walked a few more steps into the house.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Well, don’t be. It’s long in the past.”
“Good morning, Abraham.” She handed him the gifts.
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he said, kissing her cheek with a tender peck. “I love to eat sweets.”
Erika threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She arrived with a barely formed plan. But she wanted Abraham to know what she had on her mind. Broke the kiss and put the sweets on a table by the door. And took her into his arms.