Keith Wants an Open Marriage

Scenes From a Marriage:

Keith Wants an Open Marriage

Donna thinks he doesn't.

by Peter_Cleveland

* * * * *

Author's note:

It's 1981; Keith and Donna have been married for seven years; and Keith's seven-year-itch is being gently scratched (and thus made itchier) by a sweet young thing at the office. Eager to expand his horizons but not wanting to betray his wife, Keith sees the obvious solution: open marriage. All he needs to do is get Donna onboard. What could possibly go wrong, right?

Scenes From a Marriage(I did steal the phrase) is an informal series I began in 2026. The present story is the second in this group. The first, "Encounter Group," featured Keith and Donna in 1970 (before they married) and, briefly, in 1977. Each story is self-contained, so you can pick and choose among them and read them in any order.

As usual, JBEdwards, Tennesseered, and my lawfully wedded wife have offered helpful suggestions and comments on this story. Thanks again to all three.

* * * * * 1

While the pork braised on the stove, Keith went to his study, opened his leatherette portfolio, and extracted the contents of his office mail-slot, which he had snatched on his way out. A sealed envelope of company stationery caught his eye. Inside, on office letterhead, Cheryl had written, "Good luck!" in purple felt-tip. Allowing himself a half smile, he guided the sheet through the shredder, glanced at a couple memos, then returned to the kitchen.

Around half past eight, dinner over, he noticed again how tired she looked, his wife of seven years. Donna now worked only half-days downtown, eight-thirty to one, but afterwards she had a two-year-old to care for plus her share of housework. Maybe she did a little of his share too. Since Keith had cooked tonight, Donna washed the dishes while Keith bathed Ethan and got him ready for bed. Then as Donna tucked the child in, Keith removed a bottle from the fridge, poured a couple glasses of white wine, brought them to the living room, and sat himself at the end of the sofa, thinking of Cheryl and wondering how to begin the conversation tonight.

A distraction was needed. Unable to find thePost-Gazette,he flipped through the weekly neighborhood-news tabloid. Mostly want-ads, supermarket ads, high-school sports writeups. A press release, apparently printedverbatim,on some new stainless-steel sports car. Giant Eagle has a sale on shoulder roast. Oakland Catholic trounced St. Joseph in girls' field hockey. Donna would be pleased. He'd tell her, if he remembered.

At last she descended the stairs to the living room, gave him a quick kiss, then plopped into an armchair close by the sofa. Each of them reached to the coffee table, took a wineglass, and sipped. It was a good New York State riesling, Vinifera Wine Cellars, a few degrees too cold.

Once again, Keith appraised his wife's body. Tired or not, she was a pretty woman. Thirty-one: a good age. Attractive brown hair, lately cut shorter than he liked. Pleasant breasts, size and shape about average. Long legs; cute, slim bottom. Pregnancy and childbirth had not done any permanent damage to her taut, shapely abdomen and pussy. Unfortunately you couldn't see either at the moment.

"He went right off to sleep, for a change," Donna reported.

"It must be the barbiturates I put in the bath water," Keith kidded.

"I hope you saved the bath water," she replied. "I could use it." They sipped some more wine in silence. "So... you wanted to talk?" she ventured. "We'd better start now, before the wine catches up with me."

Having failed to think of a better plan, Keith decided to dive in head-first.

"I think we should open up our marriage," he said.

"'Open up'?" she queried. "I'm not sure I know what that means." She downed a few ounces of the riesling.

"It means have an 'open marriage,'" Keith explained. He added some phrases he had rehearsed. "We try to leave possessiveness behind. Not force ourselves into a straitjacket of emotional and physical exclusiveness.... Allow ourselves to be open to new relationships, new possibilities.... All the while cherishing and strengthening our most important bond, which is with each other."

"Okay," Donna replied. "Fine."

"It's really not very different from the way we were before we... wait.... What did you say?"

Donna took another large sip and set down her glass. "I said fine," she repeated. "Sounds good. No problem."

Keith hadn't prepared for this particular response. "That's it?" he queried. "Just 'okay... no problem... let's do it'?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Keith's central processing unit was straining. "After seven years of marriage and one child, you just say, 'Sure, let's allow intimate relationships with other people'? Just likethat?"

"It was your idea," she reminded him. "You talked me into it.... Do you want to start this weekend?"

Part of Keith's brain advised him not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Seal the deal, shake hands, give the wife a kiss, and notify any other interested parties--one in particular--of the change in the license agreement. Another part of his brain, mixing metaphors, advised him to slam on the brakes, then figure out where he is, how he got here, and which way is up.

Donna scowled a little and pursed her lips: the usual sign that she was thinking hard. "Evenings I'm usually pretty tired," she said. "So we'll have to find a couple more people who can occasionally babysit in the afternoon. When I'm with another man in the afternoon, I don't want to lie to Mom and Dad about why we need a sitter.... Unless you can get off from work early on those days?... There's no way we can afford full-day childcare. And anyway, Ethan and I love our time together, so I don't want to be without himeveryafternoon."

Keith had hoped his wife would reluctantly agree to allow him to be intimate with other people while she--still feeling the conservative, cautious forces of motherhood and wifehood--would keep behaving pretty much as she always had... at least into the near future. He hadn't expected this display of enthusiasm.

"But until we find more babysitters," she went on, "I can be with other men in the evenings, for a while. So when I'm out, you can take care of Ethan.... And of course I'll want evening dates on occasion, anyway, even when I'm playingBelle de Jourin the afternoon....

"Soon, though," she added, "we'll have to discuss details like how many overnight stays per week are allowed, if any... and can we bring our dates here to our home?... and are condoms required? Also, would you have a problem if my date and I used our bed, or is that supposed to be sacrosanct?"

Keith's sense of alarm was rapidly increasing. And were Donna's nipples now erect under her blouse and bra, or was he imagining things? He saw he was losing control of the situation.

"Donna," he cautioned, "I don't want you to feel pressured to suddenly change your lifestyle.... We can kind of graduallyease intonew ways of thinking and acting..."

"That's not necessary," she interrupted. "Women find monogamy just as frustrating as men do! Just as unnatural and restricting. Don't tell me you've forgotten that married woman at the encounter group we went to, back when we were dating. Curly red hair; attractive. She pretty much just pounced on you and dragged you to a bedroom... leaving her husband and me to fend for ourselves somehow for a couple hours.... Betsy: that was her name. I rather admired her."

Donna's eyes lit up, a smile appeared, and she reached over to take her husband's hand, bringing her face close to his and looking into his eyes. "Would you like to meet and get to know my lovers?" she asked. "When I have any, that is. Or do you want to keep these relationships completely separate from ours? I think I'll want to meet your lovers, get to know them a little. I'm sure we'd have a lot to talk about, and probably similar tastes.... And of course you and my lovers would have several things in common. Me, for instance."

Keith struggled to get his feet on firm ground. Donna was at least ten steps ahead of him in figuring out the logistics of adultery. How did she get so familiar with the process? When did she learn all these details of how to do it?

"Also," she said, "We'll need a good wall calendar so we're both always clear about each other's schedules and our own."

"You're already seeing someone!" Keith announced. "You're too willing to do this. You said yes too quickly. You understand all the details too well. Much better than I do.Who is he?"

Donna put on her best wide-eyed, innocent look. "Only you, darling. Don't be silly. How could I have a lover?"

"How?Here's how. You take Ethan to daycare. Then you call in sick at work. You go to your lover's place and spend two hours in bed. Then you get dressed again and, as the guy's fluids ooze into your panties, you pick up our child at the daycare..."

"That sounds very naughty of me," Donna interjected. "I especially like the part about my lover's fluids oozing into my panties as I go about my business in the world, looking so respectable. And nobody suspects a thing except my husband! How long have I been doing this?"

Keith ignored her sarcasm. "It's that artist character, isn't it! What's his name?... Kazantakis or something."

"Don't be silly, Keith. Jimmy is just a good friend."

"Those Jesuits who ran your high school taught you that you can call a lover 'just a good friend' without lying if you cross your fingers and silently make a mental note of your 'reservation.'"

"The nuns at Oakland Catholic were not Jesuits, Keith. Just Catholic. The Jesuits were over at Bishop Canevin High."

"Or you're fucking that guy at work... your supervisor. I met him at the party."

Donna looked amused. "Larry? Don't be silly. First, having sex with one's boss is risky. Even Helen Gurley Brown advises against it.... Though Larryishandsome, in an Italian sort of way. And built rather large--his dick, I mean--if you like that sort of thing."

"And how do you know how he is built?"

"One or two of the girls at work told me.... Really, Keith, if I had to choose between the two of them, I'd pick Jimmy. Trust me, big penises are strictly a male fetish. Or more precisely, a male deep-rooted insecurity. The girls at school used to laugh about this length hangup you guys had. Besides, in the unlikely event we ever wanted a big phallus, we had our hockey sticks.... Yes, that's a joke! If you could only see the look on your face....

"Though... since we have an open marriage... I'll have to consider giving Larry a try, just to see what it feels like... if he's willing. I still think sex with your boss is a bad idea, though. Wouldn't you agree?"

Keith swept from his mind a vision of Cheryl, his subordinate, naked, sprawled across a table in the back room at the office. It was a fantasy but could soon become a real memory. "Of course," he agreed. "Very bad idea. Absolutely."

"I'd still pick Jimmy over Larry, if I had to choose," she said. "How about you? For your first open-marriage adventure, are you thinking of anyone in particular? That would usually be the case, wouldn't it? I mean, after seven years, men don't talk their wives into having an open marriage just on philosophical principles, do they?... But what do I know? This is my first marriage."

* * * * * 2

How badly did he really want Cheryl? he reflected. Sure, a lover at the office was an arousing idea, and Cheryl was an attractive woman. About Donna's age and his, early thirties. Again: a good age for a woman. Though Cheryl's habit of chewing on the tops of stick pens was annoying, and the pens looked disgusting afterwards. Donna was better at carrying on a conversation: many of the thoughts in Cheryl's mind seemed connected with television shows.

Still, Cheryl's breasts were close to perfect, and she let him touch them when no one was around. She often touched him too, even when others were present: the back of his hand, his waist, his shoulder. A few brief kisses had been given and accepted. Once, when they were alone, her hand on his trousers had fondled his dick half erect; then she had looked up and given him a lovely smile. Lately, she had seemed hesitant about continuing this office flirtation, or slow-motion seduction, or petting party--whatever it was. Seduction, if he had anything to say about it.

Alas, he thought, this was 1981, not 1971. The sexual revolution had been beaten back by the reactionaries. Thatcher and Reagan were now running the world. The militant feminists were callingeverythigrape. Office romances--to say nothing of office casual fucks--were getting rarer and riskier. He saw that he could get into Cheryl's pants--but it was now looking like it would have to be part of a serious romance, not just (as he would prefer) a casual fling. Did he want to get involved in something serious with her?

He did not want to "cheat on" Donna--that is, deceive and betray her. But open marriage isn't "cheating." Donna's attitudes toward sex had always been liberal, and she had said good things about the open marriages of other couples--of Betsy and Martin, for example, from the encounter group a decade ago. What caught Keith by surprise this evening was Donna's wild enthusiasm for opening up their own marriage--plus this mountain of evidence thatmostof the extramarital sex in their near future would probably be onherside of the marriage. That possibility hadn't occurred to him. Didn't she love him more thanthat?

He winced, imagining the future. The thought of another penis entering Donna's body, in itself, wasn't great but was tolerable. He knew it had happened many times before he and Donna met, maybe even once or twice while they were dating. More disturbing than the basic mechanics of sex was potential affection and delight. He flinched at a vision of Donna and another man joyfully naked in bed together--Donna looking into his eyes and smiling at him, kissing him, telling him how good he feels inside her, how good he makes her feel. Confiding in him things she had not shared with her husband. Delighting him by coming two or three times, then delighting in his orgasm, welcoming his semen inside her.

Maybe weshouldagree to use condoms, Keith thought.

Keith was smart enough to see the double standard here. Affection, delight, intimacy, confidences, smiles of pleasure, bodily fluids happily received, orgasms shared, private moments enjoyed: he looked forward to all of that in his affair with Cheryl. Theoretically, the wife in an open marriage is entitled to these extramarital pleasures every bit as much as the husband is. Theoretically. Translating theory into practice isn't always easy, though.Theoretically,East Germany is a democratic republic, right?

* * * * * 3

But the couple's discussion this evening--still in progress--was not going to stop while Keith reconciled theory and practice, and figured everything else out as well. Donna looked like she was about to say something more. He'd try to speak first.

"Look, honey," he cautioned, "maybe we're rushing into this too quickly."

"Carpe diem!"she shot back "Seize the day! He who hesitates is lost. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may."

"Look before you leap!" was the only counter-statement he could come up with. But clearly she was ahead in slogans, four-to-one. Or three-to-one, depending how you count the exact same phrase in two different languages.

"Seriously, Donna: I want us to slow 'way down, stop this breakneck race to tear down the marriage we've built and start a new one. We need to preserve all the important things we've built together over the years. When we do make changes, we need to take small, careful steps."

But Donna was already standing and finishing her wine. She unbuttoned her blouse as she spoke.

"Hush, darling," she said. "This is an important day in our lives, and an important moment in our marriage. The day we turned the page on Chapter One and began Chapter Two. The day we opened our marriage once and forever." She removed her blouse and laid it on the arm of her chair, speaking all the while. "After seven years of sexual exclusiveness--at least on my part andI believeon yours--we now relinquish our monopoly rights to each other's affections and each other's body. Unhook me, will you, honey?"

She turned her back, and he did. Then she faced him again and shrugged off her bra. Bending over, bringing her breasts to his mouth, she resumed her remarks while he nuzzled. "Of course, a monopoly on affections is just bullshit. You can't control who you care for or even love."

She stepped out of her sneakers, unsnapped, unzipped, and pulled off her trousers. Wearing only powder-blue panties, she joined her husband on the sofa. As she talked, she proceeded to unbutton and take off his shirt. Together they removed his trousers.

In their underpants, they snuggled, kissed, and fondled each other. Between kisses she continued her speech. "You've always been free to care for, feel affection for, even love other people, Keith. But now you can have sex with them too... if they consent. Isn't that nice? Who will you choose? Maybe that girl at the office you mentioned once? The one you thought was giving you looks? What was her name?"

"Uh, that might be Cheryl. Look, I don't think Cheryl would be a good candidate for a lover. For one, I'm technically her boss...."

"Oh, you don't want that!" she agreed. "That would put you in a lot of danger." She guided Keith's erect cock out above the waistband of his briefs and caressed it as she spoke. "Such a pretty penis, too. I'm sure you'll find someone other than Cheryl who'll appreciate it--though I almost hate to share it." She moved her head to his crotch and took a surprisingly large portion of his erection into her mouth, making sexy little noises as she sucked and bathed it with her tongue.

Keith managed to wiggle a hand into Donna's panties. He found her vaginal opening--just beginning to moisten--her inner labia, and then her clitoris. As he spread her increasing moisture about her vulva, Donna made little sounds of appreciation and continued pleasuring his penis with her mouth.

He got too close to climax and had to pull back. Donna understood, tugged off her panties, and lay back. "Lick me for just a minute, honey; then let's fuck."

Keith pulled off his own undershorts then put his head between his wife's legs. She looked adorable down there and, usually, smelled and tasted wonderful--as she did tonight. She must have washed up a bit sometime this evening. He kissed, licked, sucked, penetrated with his tongue, had a thoroughly enjoyable time while arousing his wife still further and, soon, tonguing her to orgasm.

"Now, honey," she said afterwards. "Fuck me now. Please."

He gave her labia a parting kiss then looked in vain for a Kleenex to wipe his face. "It's okay," she said; "It doesn't matter. Come fuck me."

He entered her, missionary-style, and they were off. She kissed him at length, despite the fluids on his face--a loving act, he realized, he was unlikely to receive from Cheryl or from any other new lover. Gestures like that came, if at all, from years of intimacy. Probably most women would say, "Go wash your face first."

He licked an index finger and brought it to her clitoris. "Yessss," she said as, two minutes later, she climaxed, both arms holding his body tightly to hers. His penis, inside her, registered her contractions.

Immediately afterwards, unfortunately--before he too could come--she resumed their discussion.

"This is a fuck to remember, Keith," she advised. "The beginning of Chapter Two... the first sex of our open marriage.... The last sex of your monopoly rights to my vagina, and my mouth, and I suppose my bottom.... The last time you will be inside me and know for certain that no one else has been there since the day of our wedding."