Sex stories

My father insisted that I marry François Girard’s daughter, the wealthy landowner of the village.
“Marry into that family, my son, and you’ll be set for life.”

They were rich, no doubt about it.
His daughter — my fiancée — was loud, spoiled, and arrogant, the perfect example of a privileged daddy’s girl. On top of that, she had strong opinions about people, and she wasn’t shy about expressing them.

Every night at dinner, while eating in front of the TV, she would rant endlessly about “certain people.”

I didn’t share her views.
I always replied calmly:
“There are good and bad people everywhere.”

She would snap back, furious:
“NO. JUST SHUT UP.”

I kept quiet… but even married, even trying to live a normal life, something inside me never changed.

Then one day, everything shifted.

She decided to renovate the garden terrace. The company she hired sent a worker.

A man.

Tall, strong, confident.

And suddenly… her usual opinions seemed to disappear. Funny how that works.

As I watched him working under the sun, something grew inside me. The heat, the atmosphere, the silence… everything felt intense.

Around noon, sweating under 30°C heat, he looked exhausted.

“Want some water?”
“Yeah, thanks…”

I handed him the glass. Our eyes met. Something was there.

“Want to take a break in the shade, at the back of the garden?”
“Yeah…”

We walked away.

Silence.

Tension.

Then things happened naturally… without words.

And just as the moment reached its peak—

I heard my wife shouting:
“DENIS! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“IN THE GARDEN!”

She arrived. She saw everything.

Silence.

Then anger exploded.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?! YOU DON’T EVEN HIDE IT?!”

I looked at her, calm.

“You see… there are good people everywhere.”

That was the end.

A few days later, the marriage was over.

I moved back to my father’s place.

“You’re useless… good for nothing.”

But in my head, I knew one thing:

I was finally being true to myself.