I married at 21, and although I wasn’t technically a virgin, the one sexual experience I had when I was engaged didn’t exactly qualify as sex. Sex during my marriage would not rank in the annals of great sex. I entertained making an appointment in the seventies with Masters and Johnson, but thought it would be too much of a hassle getting to the then-famous sex therapists and researchers. Sex became less and less important over the years. As a matter of fact, I didn’t care about it all all by the time I was 37.
Then I met Edgar on a plane trip from Atlanta to New York in June 1988, when I was 41 (he was 55), and he awakened sexual feelings that I never dreamed I had. We had sex three times a night for two years. We had sex on the carpet in his fancy office when I went to work with him on Saturday mornings (he was the boss of a mult-billion company.) We had sex on the beach in Long Boat Key. Florida; at the George Cinq in Paris and in a Holiday Inn somewhere in California when we drove from San Diego to Seattle. We had sex on an authentic steamboat when we cruised the Mississippi, and we had sex in the car. I literally saw red flashing stars when we had sex. It was wild. We had sex in multiple positions, and never once used any sexual aides that weren’t part of our bodies.
As I look back. I realize Edgar was probably a bit like Bill Clinton and Tiger Woods. He could never get enough. After years sans sex, I was only too happy to oblige. I remember thinking that I had made up for everything I missed, in only a couple of years. I also thought it wasn’t possible that all women had sex like I was have with Edgar, both in quantity and quality.
Although Edgar had gotten heavy during the 12 years we were involved, and the sex was less passionate, I was still attracted to him the last time I saw him, at his home in Florida on July Fourth weekend in 2000. I learned that weekend that he had been sleeping with a next-door neighbor after he retired and moved South permanently. I told him he’d never see me again.
I subconsciously knew he was screwing around soon after we met (he cheated on his wife with me, so what would stop him from cheating on me?), but I couldn’t stay away from him–or maybe I couldn’t stay away from the sex. Then again, maybe the sex was so good because Edgar was trouble.
Whatever the reason, the sex was the best I’ve ever had. I don’t anticipate having those kind of feelings ever again. Believe it or not, I don’t care a bit.