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Lack

By: TheGreyKnight



"I don't want you to wear any panties today," the voicemail said.

Sammi looked to her phone in disbelief. She presses play and listens again. The smooth, low tone of her husband plays once more. "I don't want you to wear any panties today." And that was all. No instructions, no I love you. Nothing to take away. She considers for a moment, then biting her lip calls his number.

No answer.

The dials again. Waits for his voice mail and tells him to call her back before putting the phone down and watching it, like water set to boil. After a moment she walks to her full-length mirror and surveys the simple, mid-thigh black skirt and bites her lip. Then, one last time, glances back to the phone in hopes that it would ring. When it doesn't she takes a deep breath, pulls the skirt up just enough to move her hands to her beautiful, black lace panties and take them off. She discards them with a a disdainful grunt before taking a few steps back and forth in front of the mirror.

No, she thinks. This is obscene. I can't go with something this short.

Then she's flinging things around in the closet, searching for that one piece that she can never find when she wants it. When she does find the longer, black skirt that will meld and accentuate the blue of her top.

Stepping back in front of the mirror she surveys herself directly and in profile, the new skirt reaching just beneath her knees. She sits, crosses her legs and even leans back under the gaze of the mirror before accepting his command. And with confidence comes resentment, being asked to do such a silly thing from a man she knows so well. Sammi picks up her phone, switches it to off and makes her way to their brunch date.

The cafe is busy, though due to the unseasonably cold, the terrace is empty save for one man wearing a sports jacket that almost melds into his chocolate skin. He sits still, easy, as though the weather isn't a factor. Like a statue in a way. As she approaches from behind she can see his head tilt in such a way that he hears the clack of her two inch heels and seems to know it was her.

They look at one another as she steps in front of him, pulls out her chair and sits down.

"I ordered you hot chocolate," he says with a wink. A joke he never seemed to get tired of.

"Oh good. I wonder if it'll actually be hot this time."

His facade cracks and his smile fades. He stops looking into her with eyes like warm secrets and instead looks to the still steaming tea which he stirs with a spoon.

Sammi wonders why she said it all. Why she couldn't just let the past be. She trusted the man, she did, but with the recent developments she couldn't help but be hurt. "I'm sorry," she says.

"It's alright." He forces a smile and looks back to her again before the waitress arrives with her hot chocolate. She is about to order before he raises a finger. "We actually need a few minutes."

The waitress nods and goes back into the warm embrace inside as Sammi looks to him with confusion.

"What are you doing? We're not eating?" Sammi blows on her hot chocolate more out of habit than anything.

"I wanted to talk."

"I told you," Sammi says into her cup, "I'm not ready yet."

"I know." And in that moment she is entirely the man she loved. Soft and strong all at once. Open and listening. Ready for anything she might do and always pushing her to the next step. But still, it wasn't enough.

"I think, maybe I should-" She places the cup down and starts to shift in her seat to push it back but his wrist snares her. He holds her tightly, a reminder that he is so massive compared to her.

"Just sit. Just a minute."

Sammi nods before she agrees, then pulls back up to the table, picks up her chocolate and sips it in order to seem less nervous, to avoid his gaze. It doesn't seem to work though, because every time she looks at him he's either processing what he's going to say or looking deeply into her.

"I should have told you I was going to see my her." He takes a breath. He draws it in fully. "If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't. But I promise you, nothing happened."

She nods but her eyes are buried in her drink.

"Do you believe me?" He asks.

She nods again. She's looking at every ripple, every bit of steam in her cup until she feels his hand on hers. Then she looks to it. The manicured nails that he must have done this morning. The cuff of the nice shirt she always likes him in. Then up the jacket that was clearly pressed before it was last warn. Then to his shoulders, broad like they can hold her burdens. And finally to his very beautiful face.

"Do you believe me?" He says it with a lower register this time. His more natural tone.

"Yes."

His hand slides up her arm like a warm intruder, until his thumb brushes over her skin. "I promise," he says as he strokes her. "I will never do that again. All I was trying to do is-"

"Stop while you're ahead."

There's a moment where they look at one another, his thumb dead and her gaze hard. Time is still in it and the world is dead around them in the cold. Somewhere, a coin is being flipped and if it comes up heads she forgives him then and there. Tails, she doesn't and the story goes on in another dozen ways. Here, something deep within becomes warm and open as the coin lands.

She smiles, then he laughs, then she laughs. Then she embraces his touch. She kisses his hand and he moves it further into her skin, covering more of her face.

They hold each other like this, in a single gaze, for a longer moment—though neither would ever think that was the case.

Then, after sipping their drinks for warmth he asks it in such a way that causes Sammi to sit back. "Did you do what I asked?"

"What do you mean?" She asks it not to deflect the question or to be coy because something in her won't allow her to say yes or not. She's no vixen. She's no concept. She can't just turn the "fun" on and off like a toy. There is a lifetime of experience and doubt and fear between her ears and none of it says that it's okay to admit to not wearing panties when you're trying to reconcile with your husband.

"Did you do what I asked?" He says it again but his posture and tone has shifted. He's more confident now, sitting back in his chair as he sips his drink.

She considers, yes and no, lying and being honest—the irony not lost on her. Finally she takes a long pull of her hot chocolate and leans forward as she places it down. "What do you think?"

"Yes." He says it nearly without pause. "Now hike up your skirt and show me."

Sammi blinks, registering the words, allowing them to come into focus. As she does he moves his eyes to her knees and she looks at him looking over her until their eyes are back on one another again.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" He says before looking at her knees again.

She takes a deep breath, grabs the fabric by her fingernails and, after a steadying breath, pulls the first centimeter up. She hopes he'll relent. That it's all a big joke. That it all means nothing. But he is as still and silent as a statue. Like a predator.

A deep breath to focus. Then she pulls the fabric up until it reveals the whole of knees, the light skin above them, the outside of her thighs and, finally, her chill-kissed pussy. She watches him stare at it, lean forward only the slightest of amounts before his eyes flicker over to the door and his hand motions at her to bring the skirt back down.

The waitress reappears and he says that they need just one more moment before she vanishes again and Sammi feels alive. She is frustrated, aghast that this almost happened, unsure of her emotions but most of all—alive. And whatever she felt, she was still at the table.

He pulls out his wallet, a gift from her long before he had enough money to pay for such a thing, and places a single bill, much larger than the two drinks, on top of the table. Then he rises, offers her his hand.

"I don't know where-"

"And I don't want you to ask any more questions."

She looks at him for a single, stunned moment before taking his hand and being easily hoisted up. There he guides her into the warmth of the body of the restaurant.

There's noise from the chatter and the clang of plates, but mostly for Sammi it's a daze. It's just following him as he guides her through the singular glances and a world that feels very distant.

Until the takes her to the men's bathroom, pushes her against the wall and growls lowly in her ear, "stay there."

She holds a moment, heart beating so fast it could jump out of her throat and vision almost fuzzy. She wants to object as he slides over to the door and locks it before pulling a small, metal bar out from somewhere within his sports jacket.

It glints, and for a moment she cannot make out what it is. He catches her eyes following it and grins, "are you afraid? You could always scream." He takes a step towards her, flicks it in a circle and then brings it up to her neck before pushing it into her skin.

She closes her eyes and whimpers, ready for the cut.

But it never comes. The metal is cool, soft and not at all sharp. She opens her eyes to look at it in greater detail ignoring the diabolic grin he has on his face.

It's just a metal bar. No weapon, no threat to it at all. No more dangerous than his massive fist. "It's a good thing I was just in trouble, or else you would be." He slides over to the door, latches the bar in the handle and wedges it in such a way that nobody could push or pull the door open without taking it off its hinges.

When he turns the smirk on his face is gone. His eyes are strong and have a singular purpose, but they are his eyes again, not that of anyone or anything she has to bear. "Now come over here and take off my jacket."

Sammi moves over with a bowed head and lips sealed together tight enough to keep her smile from showing. She waits until his arms raise, like a bird about to take flight, before beginning to take the sports jacket off him. She hangs it tenderly on a combination hook/doorstop screwed into the door and turns around—immediately grateful that he is not wearing a vest today.

She begins to unbutton his shirt before the palm of his hand strokes her face. "Kiss it," he says-and she does. She continues to suck on his fingertips and knuckles while she undoes his buttons. Her attention wains on the ask as his hand as the salt of his skin, the smell of him, begins to overwhelm her senses.

Finally the work of undoing every button on his shirt is complete and it opens up. His hands move to the back of her head and guide her down, in against his chest. "Smell me. Drink me in." But here, she's finally a step ahead of him. She tries to devour him with her lips, take in all of his scent so no woman could ever smell him again and run her hands over the strength of his chest, his back, his shoulders.

She's moves her hands beneath the waistband of his slacks and slides her fingers towards his crotch from both directions before his hands seize her wrists.

Then he's pushing her, hands trapped, until she's against the wall and his frame is easily holding her places. He moves her head out of the way with his and kisses her neck, her cheek, her ear. Then he whispers with thick, amazing lips, "I need you too badly to wait. Are you going to make me?"

Sammi shakes her head before he pins her against the wall with his lips on hers.

They kiss in way that only lovers reuniting can.

They kiss like partners hurt from the pain of separation.

They kiss like old friends in new love.

Then he spins her around, grabs her by her hair and bends her over the sink. He skirt flies up in such a way that she's sure it's ripped but she can't begin to care. His hands are on her ass and the moan she makes into the sink fills the room.

His hands slide up her body to her hips and when she hears the sound of his zipper opening, her legs spread immediately and even she can tell she's wet without touching. She pushes herself further over the sink, raises her hips into the air and waggles her ass.

She's used to him taking his time, being deliberate and opening her like a flower.

Yet It pleases Sammi to no end that this time he's simply pulling his cock out, sliding it up and down her ass and then pushing the head into her pussy.

She moans but it's nothing compared to his growl, even with the sound reflecting in the ceramic sink. It overpowers her voice just like his body easily controls hers now. Despite that, she feels one of his hands take her by the hair to hold her in place.

And then, just the tip of his cock isn't enough.

She tries to push back against him but he's simply retreats. She whimpers and feels him lowering his torso to her back, engulfing her.

"I know, baby girl, I missed you, too."

Just when she's about to beg, plead, he pushes into her. It is slow, but his hot, hard cock begins to fill her. Her lips brush against the sink, push into it like it's his skin, all so she doesn't scream out.

"Oh yes. I I love it when you're so tight for me. When you haven't cum in days."

"Weeks." She says.

"Weeks." He approves, it's in the tensing of his muscles, the shudder in his cock.

When he's finally in, all the way in, there is a moment where they both moan. Then he starts.

A single, hard, thrust all the way in after pulling nearly all the way out. Then, a grab of her hair to tug, pull back. "I love you. I own you. You're mine."

Sammi wants to return the affection, say she is his, but the animal in her has missed this too much. She only growls and groans, pushes herself back against his thrust.

She feels this please him by the way he pulls on her hair harder, brings his feet closer to her, steps in and pushes into her once more.

Then his hand comes to the sinks edge, just a few inches from her face, just out of reach of her mouth, but she looks to it still, focuses on it. She pushes her tongue out just to lick him, get more of him, as he moves his cock back inside her with a single, hard push.

And just like that, he's activated.

His nipples rub through the fabric of her blouse and he groans in such a way the room is beginning to fill with his noise. It drowns her out completely and bounces off against the walls. She's sure the cafe can hear her and, instead of being mortified, she is aroused.

They're jealous, she says to herself as her cock thumps into her in such a way that her face shakes inside the sink. They're jealous that they can't be him. Have him.

So she lets it out. A long, hard moan, louder than she'd ever dare in public.

This spurs him on. His little thrusts become longer, more meaningful. His grip tightens so that she can see the veins in his arms being to struggle. She doesn't have to see his cock to know that it's as wide, long and hard as she's ever made it be.

"This is what you get for telling me no."

And Sammi deserves it. Thrusts of his cock so hard that her head bounces up and down in the sink with each push.

Then there's pounding at the door. It's not just knocking. Someone is speaking in a language that she doesn't understand because it's not him speaking it.

Someone tries to open the door but she just pushes her ass against him, begs him for more.

They rattle against it just like he pounds into her.

They yell through the door just like she begins to moan.

They yell louder just as he begins to join her chorus.

Then her world becomes the shaking of the door. The growl of her man. The cock inside her and the feeling of her body edging closer and closer to that amazing edge. The point where he kills her and she begs him to do it again.

The banging stops but he continues to push into her without pause.

Then the strokes begin, the kind she knows all too well. Her man is about is cum and she have to give it her all. She moves herself in such a way that he can push full into her, her legs slide apart as far as they can.

She smiles, beams in knowledge that she doesn't have to hold out any longer.

He slams into her, no longer pulling in and out all the way, but simply pushing in and out, rapidly, as he begins to clench her hair and the sink with all the strength he has.

Then he growls one last time.

Then he begins to move with all he has and she can't help but feel him instead of what he's doing to her. The slide in, the pushing apart of her pussy with his cock. The head of him, the closeness of his skin still far away. The whole of him, giving everything he has to her, in her, for her. For them.

And she cums.

It spurs him on, her moans. Her gasps. He pumps in and out of her in an exquisite torture, each thrust being one more than she would ask for, barely endurable.

And when he cums she is grateful. She drinks him in, does all she can to get more of him.

They cling to one another as the key turns in the lock.

He pulls out of her and Sammi straightens up, pulls her skirt down.

But the door can't open. The bar keeps it in place.

The employee on the other end threatens,

But they adjust, Sammi and him, and kiss and wait for him to go.

Then they pull the bar out and move out of the cafe as quickly as possible. She's mortified, but ushered out just like she was in, and soon the door opens with a wail and the cold comforts her skin,

They dance down the street like teenagers. They move back to their place together.

And just inside the door she tries to bring up luggage, logistics. The world at large.

But he just pushes her against the hallway wall, closes the door and says, "I'll never hurt you like that again."

And kisses her to make the promise real.

Lack of Communication



Thanks goes out to 'Techsan' for his editing and suggestions.

*

Damn authors! Always playing head games. I don't even know what I believe anymore. It all started a few years ago when I started reading erotic stories. After twenty plus years of marriage the sex wasn't happening as often as I liked. So after fifteen thousand arguments with the little woman I just said, "Hell with it." If she didn't want to do it that often, then I would at least read about it.

I always thought I knew what kind of person I was. But, after reading so many stories I don't know anymore. I should just stop reading the damn stories but I can't. I'm addicted and I don't want to be. It's kind of like reading "The Inquirer," a trashy magazine. I just want to know. 

Reading this shit is as bad as smoking, drinking, or even taking pot. It's addictive and ruining my life. My mind just doesn't seem to have the answers anymore. Fantasies, realities, truth, lies. I can't seem to get a grip. Are there other people like me out there? Are most marriages like mine? I wish I knew.

Our marriage seemed pretty normal. Three kids, grown up now, house, two cars, lots of bills. Not enough time together. I guess we put everything in our lives ahead of ourselves, or maybe the sex just got old and not worth the bother. Whatever it was I wanted to change it. So I started reading the damn stories. I had to ask myself, "Fantasies or realities," no-one could put up with some of the shit I was reading about. Wives wanting to swap? Husbands saying, "Fuck my wife, please," parties that turned into orgies. Men bringing strangers home to fuck their wives. Interesting reading but it was "Sodom and Gomorrah" all over again.

All I wanted was to liven-up my sex life a little. I didn't want to fuck the whole damn planet. I did wonder how I felt about my marriage, my wife, my sex drive. I wasn't out to have affairs but to just take care of my own wife.

One day I helped my brother move some furniture. After we finished we went over to the neighborhood bar and had a couple of beers. When we arrived the place was nearly empty. Then in through the door came in a woman who looked a little inebriated. Maybe in her forties, not bad looking but looked like she has been around the block a few times. She sat down next to me, why I don't know. Speaking with an accent, she said she was from Canada and was coming down to visit friends. Her vehicle had broken down and a man gave her a ride but dropped her off at this bar saying that was as far as he could take her.

She had on a skirt, no hosiery of any type. When she sat on the bar stool, her skirt really rode up her legs. She didn't seem to care much one way or the other. I guess you could say she looked pretty slutty. I'm a guy and there was no-way I could not stare at her legs. I wasn't a saint, I was a man having a beer in the bar. My bro got up and sat down on the stool on the other side of the gal. She wanted another drink and of course we got it for her. Joe, our bartender, just laughed. He has seen women like this come in a lot more than we did..

I put my hand on her leg just above her knee, almost as though it was an accident. I would just apologize if she said anything. She didn't say a word. I started to get a hard on. I couldn't help it. I haven't touched another woman like this in years. I decided to get brave and slide my hand up her thigh a little. She just smiled as though I had shaken her hand. I slid my hand up her thigh. It was skin all the way up. I couldn't help myself. I slid right up to her pussy. Damn! No underwear on. Just a hairy damp wet pussy. She smiled at me and I slid two fingers right into the moist orifice. It didn't seem to phase her. This must be the type of broad you find in some of these erotic stories.

I was finger-fucking her when I felt another hand on mine. It was my brother John's. He must have had the same idea I had. We both started laughing. It kind of killed the sexual atmosphere that we created, so I pulled my wet fingers out of her wet pussy. My God, so much wetness. I held my fingers to my nose. It stunk, I mean it really stunk. The guy that dropped her off must have fucked her. Damn, sure killed the mood for me. I said that I was going to the men's room and would be right back. I had to wash my hands, they smelled nasty.

When I got back, I told John I was ready to go. As we were getting ready to leave, she asked us if we could drop her off at her friend's house. Being the nice guys and her letting me get some jollies, we took her to her friend's. I offered to drive and John jumped in the back seat with Charlotte. That's what she told us her name was. She said her accent was French. I should have guessed that when she said she was from Canada.

I was hardly out of the driveway when John had her skirt up and his zipper down laying the hose to her. He asked me if I wanted in on the action and I just replied, "No, Thanks." We dropped her off, actually John walked her to the door. I thought that was nice of him but of course she was pretty intoxicated and we wanted to make sure it was the right place.

The little bit of action I had made me horny. When I walked in, I went up to my wife Kathy and put my arms around her and squeezed her boobs. It pissed her off and she elbowed me in the side. Damn! it hurt.

I said, "All I wanted was to love you up a little."

She said, "Grabbing me by the tit is not my idea of love. Why don't you go and read the porno like you usually do?"

Another argument over the damn stories. How come none of these authors wrote about real life? I don't know wives like the ones I read about. Most of my friends and relatives had wives like mine. On a scale of one to ten, one being the lowest, my wife rated sex around a two. I wish I could get her more excited but it just wasn't working.

I remember the movie, 'Sex, Lies, and Video Tapes'. It was about a man ... it was James Spader, but that's not important ... who talked to married women and they told him all about their sex lives. He taped all the conversations on VCR tapes. Man, now that's the kind of job I want. All these married women telling me how they lost their virginity and the deepest secrets they kept from the husbands. They would also tell about their fantasies.

Okay, starting today, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to become an author/writer. If there are any women who want to write to me and tell me about their sexual lives and fantasies, I will start a novel and post all these stories after editing them. I'll title it, "The Sexual Life Of The Married Wife." I will not give away names so that the women won't be afraid to write to me.

Now that would be a story worth reading. Maybe I could get my wife Kathy to tell me her story, then I could help her live any fantasies she has. I really want to please her but it just doesn't seem to be working. She is nothing like the women I read about in the stories. In most cases that's a good thing.

A couple of days went by and I got a call from John. He said he got in a horrible fight with his wife and he's not going to have sex with her for a month. He told me he got Gonorrhea from Charlotte. He was afraid he was going to pass it on to his wife Sue, so he started an argument with her about how she always holds sex back from him. So this time he's going to do it to her. No sex for a month. He didn't want to tell her about the incident. I started laughing and said, "Now I know why it smelled so bad." I was glad I stayed true to Kathy. She would divorce me if I came home with a disease.

The holidays were coming and it was time for all our Christmas parties. Our first one was Saturday. Kathy looked great but, of course, to me she always looks great. She had on a reddish color dress, cut to show some cleavage. It was a couple of inches above her knees. We sat with a few other couples who belonged to the club. We had drinks and food, did some dancing. Just being with Kathy made me feel good. I thought I would do like they did in those damn stories and put my hand above her knee and slide it up her legs. Pantyhose, damn pantyhose, I hated them. I just wanted to feel up my wife and I couldn't even get to the goods.

As I was sliding my hand up her thigh she gritted her teeth and look at me. "What in the hell do you think you're doing. I'm not your slut. I'm your wife."

Why does it always work in the stories? I was just getting aggravated. I just wanted to make love with my wife but she wasn't going for it. That pretty much killed the evening for me. When we got back to the house, she told me that she didn't like the way I'd been acting lately. She blamed it on the stories. She always blamed it on the stories. She went to bed and I just shut the door and went to read some more stories.

I was reading about cheating wives. I kept making Kathy the cheating wife. I don't know why, she has never cheated on me that I know of. I always like the husbands to get even. I know that's what I would do if I ever caught Kathy cheating on me. At least I hoped that's what I would do. I was always drawn to those kind of stories. I even wondered if I would like to see Kathy with another man. I often think that, for the instant gratification, the answer might be yes. But then after it's over would be a definite no. I wanted men to admire her, to see how great she was but I didn't want anyone touching her. I wanted her to want me, me only.

The next night after I got done reading the stories, I walked into the bedroom and there sat Kathy with tears in her eyes. It always bothered me to see her cry. I quickly sat next to her and asked, "What is the matter?"

She looked at me and said, "I'm losing you!"

"What? Where did you get such a stupid idea? I don't love anyone but you. I haven't had any girlfriend or affairs. What made you think I was going anywhere?"

"I'm not losing you to another woman, at least not yet. I'm losing you to your stories. I can't be the woman you want me to be. I read some of the stories you've been reading. I don't want sex with another man or a woman. I don't want to share you and I hope you don't want to share me. If you ever brought a guy home and wanted me to have sex with him, I would divorce you. I love you but I can't live with a man I don't trust and don't respect. If you want to share me with other men I know I would lose all my respect for you. No good decent husband would want to share his wife."

"God, Kathy, I don't want that either. That's just some of the stories I read. I was trying to find out different ways women react and what they want. Then maybe I could do that for you. I love you, Kathy. I know that I have been a lousy lover the last few years, maybe even longer. I want to change but I need your help. I need to know what your likes and dislikes really are. We been married twenty-four years and I still don't know you well enough to make you sexually happy. We haven't really communicated in a long time. I need you to talk to me, I need to know your likes and dislikes, your fantasies. I'll try to understand your needs if I can."

"Jim, I'm sure I've told you a lot of this stuff over and over throughout the years. But I'll try and explain everything I can to you again. My sexual past is not going to give you a hard-on. I'll tell you that right off the bat. I am not fond of men in general. I don't mean to say I hate men. I don't trust most men, I never have. You see, when I was just a young girl, I was molested. I wasn't raped. There's a difference. There were a number of us little girls that hung around together in the park. One day a man came by and talked to us and gave us candy. After he gained our trust he had us touch his sexual parts. He then touched ours. I got scared and ran home and told my mom. We went back to the park with the police and the man was arrested. I had to testify as a little girl at the trial. I was really scared. I never trusted men after that."

"My God, Kathy, I'm so sorry. I wish I had listened before. I feel so bad for you."

"That's why I explained to our girls the way I did, to protect them. They needed to know not to be afraid if something happens to them. It's not their fault. Don't be afraid to talk to us, that we were always there for them. So you see, Jim, I always had a distaste for men that tried to grope me. To try and feel me up, if you will."

"What about me, Kathy? We've made love hundreds of time, didn't I turn you off?"

"No, Jim, I fell in love with you. When we met you actually courted me. Remember the candy, flowers, the first kisses? I wanted you, Jim. I didn't put you in the category of a stalker but as a lover. I wanted to make love to you but I needed loving and caressing and understanding. You did all those things for years. Then of course our child rearing years changed everything. Between working, cleaning, all the house chores, I was tired a lot. I just didn't put sex or love on the top of our agenda and eventually it just became mundane. In the last couple of years you became kind of a pervert. You tried to treat me like those men in some of those stories treated their wives. I was remembering my childhood all over and it was bothering me."

"Why didn't you come and tell me? Why did you stop confiding in me?"

"You became part of the problem, Jim. You wanted women like those in your stories. I read those stories and I can't be like them, Jim. I just want you," as she started to cry.

I held her. My God, all these years she was holding so much in. I asked her about fantasies, whether she had any?

"Jim, to be honest, you were my only fantasy. I wanted a caring man. That was you, Jim. I wanted an affectionate lover, and a good husband, again that was you. I have never been with another man, I have no desire to be. So in that sense, Jim, I have no other fantasies. I'm sorry."

"Kathy, I want to do things for you and with you. I don't care what other people think. I just want to be affectionate with you."

"What do you mean by affectionate, Jim? I want to please you too."

"Well, remember when I was sliding my hand up your leg and you didn't want me to?"

"But, Jim, we were in public. Do you want other people to see you groping me?"

"Not groping, honey, loving you. I wanted them to see we were in love and I could make you feel good anytime, anywhere, as long as we don't get arrested. I wouldn't want the kids to think we were perverts," I laughed.

"I don't know, Jim, that's kind of scary. What if someone sees your hand going up my dress?"

"They would say, 'What a lucky fellow to have such a beautiful woman. I wish I was in his shoes.' Then they would get hard-ons and not be able to do anything about it."

"But, Jim, they may see my private parts. Do you want that? Other men to see me? If your hand is on my breasts or pussy, people are sure to see it."

"Honey, after reading the stories and trying to find my true feelings, this is how I feel. I love you with all my heart. I want you and I don't care if another man sees parts of your body. I don't care. As long as no one but me ever touches them. If I'm fingering you and you are enjoying it, I don't care if someone sees us. If we don't make it home and make love in the car, I don't care if someone walks by. You see, Kathy, this was very hard for me. I know you dress sexy. I know that other men look at you. It makes me feel good that I have such a gorgeous wife. As long as you belong to me and me only, I want other men to desire you. I just don't want them to have you. Do you understand where I'm at with this? Do you think you might be too modest to try this?"

"Jim, I'm a mother. Any woman who has had a baby lost her modesty a long time ago. Getting a pap test or a mammogram is another modesty killer. I'm just worried about being known or thought of as a slut."

"You're my wife. I promise to always protect you. I'll always be there for you and I promise whenever you say stop, I will stop. I want us to enjoy our relationship. That means both of us. If you're not enjoying it, I promise to stop. Also if any man ever tries to touch you, I'll be there to protect you. I don't want men trying to grope you."

"Jim, you're a little late there. Men have tried to grope me my whole life. I don't think there is a woman alive that wasn't groped. I don't think the majority enjoy it but it does happen."

"Kathy, why didn't you ever tell me? I could have protected you."

"Sweetheart, that's one of the things I always loved about you. My knight in shining armor. Men are always trying to touch women. Why they think that a stranger touching a tit is a major turn on for a woman is beyond me. A man putting his hand on my ass is asking for big trouble. I've slapped a lot of faces and kicked quite a few gonads. It seems to be a pretty good deterrent."

"Kathy, will you think about some of the things we talked about. I want to try and add spice to our love life but it takes two of us. Anytime you say 'No,' then no it is. Just say you'll try?"

"Jim, you need to know that I'm not the only one who has slacked in the love department. There've been a few times that I tried and you didn't respond, and a few other times where you couldn't get it up. I took that as my body wasn't good enough to give you an erection. That hurt me too, knowing my husband couldn't respond to me. I even asked you to go to the doctor and you refused. How do you think that made me feel?"

"I'm so sorry, I think I had stress problems at the time. I know I have it solved now. It won't happen again but if it does I promise to seek medical attention. Because if I can't get excited looking at you, I need a coroner not a doctor." I couldn't tell Kathy, but the reason I couldn't get it up was I had masturbated just a few minutes before. I had just decided that if I wasn't getting any, I'd do it myself. Just bad timing.

We didn't make love that night. I knew she needed time to think. We did cuddle, cuddling is good. Just being close to her was nice. She just backed up into me as I cuddled up against her butt. She didn't object to me even touching her breasts. Just maybe things were starting to work out.

The following Saturday we had my work party. I worked in a large factory. There were hundreds of people at the party. We sat with her sister Sue and Joe. They were back to talking but Joe had another week of treatments before having sex. I couldn't help laughing when looking at Joe.

My Kathy looked great. She just knew how to dress. Always sexy but not slutty. More cleavage and a black dress that was dressy as hell. It was just about four inches above her knees and nearly no back. It had cups for her breasts, she couldn't wear a bra with it. She looked beautiful. She looked at me and said, "Jim, I want you to know that I dressed entirely for you tonight. I hope you like the way I look."

"Like? You mean love the way you look. I don't know if I want you to dance with anyone else. I don't know if I want any men that close to you." I didn't tell her but the only drawback about the way she dressed for me was the damn pantyhose. I hate pantyhose.

Everyone wanted to dance with Kathy. She looked at me and laughed every time a man put their hand on her bare back. I guess she thought it was funny, but where else could they put their hands? I didn't like the alternative. She wouldn't let anyone pull her in close to get a feel of her breasts. It looked like a few tried to get her close but her look stopped them. She was one hell of a woman. I just should have taken the time to communicate with her earlier. I know she had told me about her past before but I probably just wasn't paying close enough attention.

I danced with Kathy and pulled her in close so that her breasts were against my chest. She looked at me and smiled. I put my arms around her and slid my hands down off her bare back and put them lightly on her butt. I pulled her into me to see what her response would be. She squeezed me around the middle and said, "Only you, baby, only you." 




Lack of Communication



I had to kiss her. I couldn't help it. We were like to newlyweds. After I kissed her, she looked at me again and said, "I love you, Jim." Then she put her arms around my neck and kissed me again. It was a kiss of passion. I griped her ass tight with both hands and pulled her into me even tighter. I had to break the kiss. I had a hard-on and didn't want to shoot off into my pants.

She said, "Did I do that to my baby? When we get home I'll have to take care of it." We walked over to our table and her sister Sue asked, "Kathy, what has gotten into you? I've never seen you act like that before? You go, girl, you looked hot."

Kathy looked at her sister and said, "I'm re-discovering love with my husband. It feels great."

Her sister looked at her husband John and said, "I wish he would do some re-discovering."

I had to go to the restroom. When I got back to the table I saw Kathy dancing with one of the office gents from our plant. I knew he had been watching us most of the night. I guess he figured this was his chance while I wasn't there. He tried to pull Kathy closer but she shook her head no. I could see he wanted to try what I did, so he slipped one hand down to Kathy's ass. She immediately looked over at me to see my reaction. I was pissed. I got up went across the dance floor and up to the bastard. I said, "You son of a bitch, get your fucking hands off my wife this instant or I'll mop the floor with you here and now." He immediately took his hands off my wife completely and started to walk away.

I said, "Hey, bastard, I think you owe my wife an apology. She's waiting." I said it loud enough so the people near us could hear.

He looked at Kathy and said, "I'm sorry. I was way out of line. It was totally inappropriate. Please accept my apology." Then he turned and went back to his table totally embarrassed. Kathy never said a word. Another slow song had started as I took her in my arms. She looked up at me and smiled. "My hero, my knight in shining armor. My protector, my love."

I just put my hand where the man wished his was and pulled her in tight again. She just hugged me and smiled. I did have to ask her what she would have done if I wouldn't have reacted the way I did?

"I was ready to knee him in the gonads and then I would have called a cab and gone home. When he touched my ass, I didn't like it. What right did he have to touch me like that? That's where I believe your stories are wrong. Most women do not want to be groped by anyone. They want to be loved by their lovers. When you touch me like you are now, it just seems right."

One thing about Kathy is that she tells you what she thinks. I'm sure glad I reacted the way I did or our marriage might have headed in the wrong direction. She was definitely a one man woman and I was that man. I learned more about Kathy sexually in the last two weeks than I knew about her in the last twenty-four years.

We went back to our booth and as we were watching everyone I took a chance. I put my hand on her pantyhose covered knee. I knew I couldn't do much with those damn pantyhose but I needed to know how she was going to react. She put one hand gently on top of mine. She didn't apply pressure like she was going to stop me so I gently moved our hands up her thigh. All of a sudden I was touching skin. She didn't wear those damn pantyhose. She wore nylons and a garter belt. She just looked at me with a loving grin and said, "I heard you. I know you hate pantyhose. I'm trying to learn, Jim, I really am."

I leaned over and kissed her. As I did she removed her hand from mine and I continued up her thigh until my hand covered her panty covered mound. I felt the warmth and gave it a gentle squeeze. I knew a few people saw us. But we didn't care. After squeezing her, I pulled my hand out from underneath her dress and kissed her one more time. Her sister looked over and said that the two of us looked hot.

We decided to leave the party shortly after our little make-out session. I was glad. I wanted her and it was great knowing that my wife really did have feelings for me. When we got home I asked her to let me undress her. As I mentioned earlier we were like two newlyweds. I slipped the dress off her shoulders exposing her breasts. She might have been in her forties but she looked great to me even without clothes. All she had on was her garter belt, nylons and panties. She was going to take them off when I stopped her. I asked her to lie down on the bed and let me do the rest.

I first dimmed the light to make it more romantic. Then I unfastened her nylons from her garter belt. I slowly removed her nylons, rolling them very sensuously over her thighs and down her calves. She was lying there smiling at me. It was going to be like a game ... an erotic game. We were going to have our wits about us and just have fun. I could see it happening. After removing her hosiery, I began pulling her panties off. She was almost laughing, romantic but fun. I left her garter belt, but as soon as I removed her panties which I might add were soaked with her juices, I lifted up her legs and muff-dived right into her pussy. She yelled out, "Jim. No, you know I don't like that."

I said, "Wrong, honey, you don't like giving oral sex but you have always loved receiving it."

"Jim, please, I can't do it for you. You shouldn't have to do it to me."

"I don't have to do anything. I want to do it. I know you have always loved it and I love doing it for you, only you. You taste so damn good."

She told me shortly after we were married that she couldn't give head. She found it disgusting. A man taking his cock and pushing it half way down a woman's throat until she choked. Where was the pleasure for the woman there? We did try it about three different times. She gagged and threw up twice. How could I tell the love of my life to try harder? Oral sex just wasn't in her makeup.

I was pushing my face all over her mound. I kept pushing my tongue into her. Flicking her clitoris with my tongue. Literally chewing lightly on her mound. I was going to make her come. I had to, I wanted her to know I'd do anything for her. I felt her juices beginning to flow. She put her hands on the back of my head and started pumping her pussy into my face.

"My God, my God, it feels so good. More, Jim, more."

I kept moving my face, nose, mouth, tongue, all over that wet pussy until she exploded. My face was covered with her juices. I kept rubbing my face on her pussy until I knew her orgasm was complete. I then wiped my face off on a towel that I had placed there earlier and then climbed up next to her to cuddle.

She slipped off the garter belt and turned on her side and pushed her ass against my rock hard cock. "Take me, Jim, take me just like this. Make love to me. I want to feel you"

I got just the right angle and pushed my cock deep into her pussy from behind. She was working her ass as much as I was working my cock in and out. I reached around and grabbed her breast. I squeezed it and started to make her nipple hard. She never liked her breasts messed with unless she was in passion. I remembered that much. I heard her yell out, "Please, Jim, I'm ready to come, please come with me." And cum I did. I pulled her ass back against my pelvis and pushed my cock as hard and as far in as I could get and just let loose. She let out a scream or moan or something. All I knew was that it was great.

She grabbed the towel that I wiped my face off with earlier and said, "I hate this part. It takes some of the fun out of it." She took the towel and as I pulled out of her she put the towel between her legs and headed for the bathroom. I just reached up, grabbed a couple of tissues and wiped myself off. Then when she came back to bed she slipped on a little nightie, panty-less, and crawled in next to me and put that sweet ass right back against my pelvis. Then she said, "No more tonight sweetheart, just hold me," as we both nodded off to sleep.

That was some of the best sex we'd had in years. When I awoke the next morning I could smell coffee. I was still naked and slipped my pajama bottoms on and headed to the kitchen. There was Kathy in her knee length robe mixing up some batter for pancakes. I sneaked up behind her and put my arms around her and gave her a hug. I pushed up against her behind and got the start of a hard-on. "Didn't you get enough last night?" she smiled, as I pressed harder against her.

I started to pick her up as she asked, "Jim, what are you doing?"

"Something we haven't done in years." I picked her up and sat her on the kitchen table and spread her legs. Good, she still hadn't put on panties.

She started laughing at me and said, "Honey, the table is for eating on."

I smiled at her and said, "Oh, I'm sorry" and dropped to my knees and started eating her pussy. I knew it was cleaned up from the night before. She was laughing and I was eating her out. When she got nice and moist I stood up and slid my hard cock into her. She put her arms around me and just said, "God, I love you." As soon as we both came she said, "Carry me over to the paper towels. I have another mess to clean up," as she laughed.

As she went to clean up again, I went ahead and started the pancakes. Life was good and getting better. I'm loving Christmas this year.

She came back into the kitchen and kissed me. "Honey, about once or twice a week is all my little pussy can handle. I hope you understand that, as much as I love it, we still have other things in our life that have to get done. But if you ever really need me I'll be there for you."

See what I mean, a real woman. A real life. A real marriage, communication and honesty, what more can you ask for in a marriage? The damn authors don't have a clue. They must all live in their own fantasy world.

It's kind of funny, our love life improved and everything else improved with it. We both seemed happier, fewer arguments, I spent a lot less time reading stories. I still had to read some, still addicted. But I wasn't looking for answers any more.

There was one more Christmas party to attend. It was the law firm that my wife worked for. She has been a secretary there for a number of years. She really liked her job. Her sister Sue worked there also so we had a couple to sit with where at least I knew someone. We decided to get a room for the night. The party was being held at the Holiday Inn and was about an hour's drive away. 

Kathy decided to dress in a white dress this time. Lots of lace and silk. As she was getting dressed I raised up her dress to see if it was pantyhose or a garter belt. She laughed as I lifted up the front. "Jim, what are you doing? No, dear, it's not pantyhose. I told you I always dress for you when we go out together. When are you ever going to get it through that thick head of yours?"

Then I noticed her panties. A lacy thin semi transparent pair. I could see where she trimmed her bush some also. I leaned in and kissed her mound as she started laughing. "Jim, stop or we never will get there."

Right then I don't even care if we went. Finding this new found love for each other was all I ever wanted. As we headed out the door Kathy caught the heel of her shoe in the crack of the sidewalk. "Oh shit, Jim, I broke my heel. I need a pair of shoes to match my outfit. Shit, shit, shit," she screamed out.

"Don't worry, your knight in shining armor ... or at least a suit ... will take you quickly to the store to buy another pair." We headed quickly to the mall. When we entered we could tell business was somewhat slow. It was a big weekend for Christmas parties and getting late. Kathy sat down and a young man approached her and asked what she was looking for. She showed him her broken heel and he went looking for some type of high heels that would serve the purpose. I told Kathy I was going to look around at some shoes while waiting for her.

She picked up a magazine about shoes that was sitting on the seat next to her. The young man came back and lifted up my wife's leg to try on a pair that he had brought over. I had a good view from where I was standing. The salesman could see right up her dress all the way to her lacy panties. Kathy acted as though nothing had happened and then pushed the dress down between her thighs to end the great view the salesman had. She told him the shoes were just right and that she would wear them. As he got up I saw him hold a box in front of him. I could tell he had a hard-on and saw a drop of pre-cum staining the front of his pants.

My wife smiled as we left the mall. I looked at her and said, "You showed that salesman your pussy, didn't you?"

"No, honey, I showed you my pussy. I saw you staring at me from the racks. He was just lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. As I keep telling you, I'm not showing myself to other men but I will show myself to you. If the bystanders see something, so be it. That's what you said you wanted. If you want it differently, then you have to tell me."

I smiled at her and said, "I love you, Kathy."

The party was in full swing. Kathy took me around and introduced me to her bosses and some of the other secretaries. She pointed to one of the tables and said that the man sitting there was the CEO of the company. The head honcho, Mr. William Welch.

I said, "Let's go up and introduce ourselves."

Kathy said, "We can't do that. He's the owner of the firm."

"Honey, he's a man just like me, only richer. You're his employee and should say hello." I took Kathy by the hand as we walked up to Mr. Welch.

Before we even got to him he stood up and offered his hand to Kathy and said, "Kathy, I'm so glad to finally meet you. You must be Jim, Kathy's husband. I'd like you to meet my wife Margaret," who stayed seated but was cordial in shaking our hands.

Kathy couldn't believe he knew who we were.

We said our hellos and were getting ready to walk away when Margaret asked to speak to Kathy. Kathy sat down next to her and waited to hear what this was about. Margaret began by saying, "I know the rumor mill is talking about a possible executive secretary opening. I'm here to tell you it's true and you are one of the few ladies that we want to interview for the job. I know Christmas is next week but do you think you will be able to come in Monday for an interview? I know this isn't the right time and place to discuss this but I would like to get the interview done as soon as possible."

Kathy said, "Margaret, I'd honored to even be interviewed for an executive position."

"Okay, then, ten o'clock Monday morning and please bring your husband. Don't tell anyone else about this please. We are trying to make a few changes quietly."

"You have my word. I'll tell no one but Jim. Thank you, Margaret."

Kathy got up and we went back to our table. I asked her what that was all about and she told me about an executive secretary position that has been rumored around and that she was to be interviewed for the position. She said there were about eight executive secretaries and had no idea which position was being filled. She did say they wanted me there for the interview. I had no idea why but I wasn't going to lose this chance for advancement for my wife.

Sue and John showed up a few minutes after us. They actually looked like a couple. Sue told Kathy that John was like a new man. He didn't just fuck her anymore. He made love to her. She said she took Kathy's advice and sat down and had a heart to heart talk with him. They had the same problem over the years ... they had stopped communicating. But now that had all changed. John looked a lot happier also.

Since Sue and Kathy were sisters, they did look a lot alike. Two good looking women with two proud husbands. We were having a great time, dancing and probably drinking too much. A number of men asked Kathy and Sue to dance. Of course I always kept my eyes on Kathy. As usual men wanted to hold her closer but she didn't go for it. No bare back tonight, that made me feel a bit more secure. No one tried grabbing her ass this time. That was a good thing.

When we were dancing I asked her why she thought the men didn't try anything. She smiled at me and said no names but a few of their gonads are still probably hurting from times gone by, as she laughed and pulled me closer. I did slide my hands down to her butt and squeezed gently. Didn't want her to be the talk of the office with her interview coming up.

When we sat back down Kathy and Sue left for the ladies' room. I guess it's a thing where women can't piss on their own or something. Anyway when they got back we were sitting in a corner booth where hardly anyone could see. When Kathy sat down I put my hand on her leg. She started smiling at me because she knew what was coming next. She put her hands around my neck and kissed me. That was all I needed as I slid my hand up her thigh feeling skin all the way up. When I reach her mound it was bare. She had taken her panties off. She took them out of her purse and tucked them into my suit pocket like a hanky. I couldn't believe it. Her vagina was moist and as I slid a finger in I heard an intake of breath.

"Honey, let's go to the room now," she spoke. We quickly said our good byes and headed up to the room. When we got to the elevator Kathy broke out in laughter.

I looked at her and asked, "What is so funny?"

She pointed to my suit pocket and said, "Every person there saw my panties sticking out of your pocket. Talk about rumors, they'll be flying for sure now."

She didn't seem to care. I was her man and she didn't care what others thought. Since we were the only ones in the elevator I reached down and planted two fingers into her moist vagina. We kissed as I fingered her. When we got to our floor an elderly couple were standing there when the door opened. I quickly pulled my finger out of my wife.

The elderly woman told us to get a room which I responded, "Yes, madam, we are headed there right now."

Her husband looked at me and said, "Nice, very nice, have fun while you're young."

We went in our room and both stripped immediately. We jumped on one of the two beds in our room and just kind of wrestled around. Finally after getting the upper hand I pinned her to the bed. While holding her arms I leaned down and took one of her breasts in my mouth. "Jim, be careful with those. They're sensitive." I licked and sucked at them until I could hear Kathy say, "That's it, baby. Yeah, just like that."

All that time reading all those stories and all I had to do was communicate with Kathy. God, how can a man love a woman so much after twenty-four years?

I slid down and started kissing her belly. I let go of her arms and she put her hands behind my head and pulled me into her mid-section. I was about to go down on her when she asked me to come up and kiss her. As I came up, she rolled me over on my back, laid across me with her boobs pressing down onto my chest. She began kissing me passionately and I thought she was getting ready to mount me. Instead she put both hands around my hard cock until only the head showed. She then lowered her mouth and very methodically took the head of my penis into her mouth.

I wanted to say something but knew this definitely was not the time to talk. I watched as my beautiful wife of twenty-four years took the head of my penis and slowly sucked on it. Only the head. She had her hands wrapped around the rest of my cock to make sure she didn't take too much. She began to increase the pace. I knew there was pre-cum there but she kept sucking it like a giant lollipop. I reached down and was able to finger her while she sucked. In fact she moved her bottom more toward me so I could get two fingers in. She was wet, really wet. The loving way she was sucking me was making her hot. I watched as the juices from her mouth and the pre-cum kept running down the head of my cock and onto her hands. I had to tell her to stop.




Lack of Communication



"Kathy, honey, please stop, I'm about to come, I can't hold back much longer."

She stopped for a second, looked over at me and said, "It's okay, baby, this one's for you."

Then she put her mouth back on the head of my cock and I started shooting one of the biggest loads of my life into her waiting mouth. She left her mouth slightly open and as the sperm hit the back of her mouth it came dripping back out over her hands and down onto my pelvic area. I have know idea how long it lasted but it was one of the best cums of my entire life. When I was done spurting Kathy climbed up next to me and wiped her hands off on the sheets. Then she asked if I wanted a taste? She still had some on her mouth. I have never done that in my entire life but it was my wife who did it for me. I grabbed her and kissed her as hard and passionately as I knew how.

She looked at me and said, "See, honey, I'm still trying."

I told Kathy that my body was totally spent and after a little nap I wanted to make love to her. We slept maybe two hours and I woke up. Kathy was awake also. She rolled over on her back and we started all over again. First it was me pleasing her and then making love.

I said, "Forget about the icky clean up. We are in a motel room with two beds and we will just change beds."

She asked, "What about the maids cleaning up the mess. They'll know what we did?")

I looked at my beautiful wife and said, "Yeah, isn't that great!" So we switched beds and back to sleep we went.

Monday finally arrived. Kathy chose to wear a pant suit for her interview. She looked like a business woman. I knew she had the confidence and of course I was rooting for her. As we entered the business office, we were escorted to the top floor of the building where Margaret greeted us. Besides being Mr. Welch's wife, she was also the chief executive secretary for her husband. They have been together for forty years. I thought it a bit odd that they were in on the final decision making of executive secretaries for their associates.

Mr. Welch came out and asked Kathy into his office. Margaret in turn took me to hers. I asked Margaret why I needed to be here? This was a position for Kathy. She explained that their business was built on confidence, honesty, integrity and family values. All of these traits were important. Margaret said that she would leave on the intercom so that I could hear the interview. Afterwards we would rejoin Kathy and her husband.

Mr. Welch spoke first: "Kathy, this job is extremely important to the firm. We, Margaret and I have built this business from a one room office to the building we are in right now. We are known for our honesty, our integrity and our family values. We hope most of our employees have these attributes. We have been watching you for quite awhile now. We haven't been spying on you or anything like that, but we have watched how you've conducted yourself. Your superiors have given you the highest of marks. Your client relationship is superior. Your way of handling aggressive unwanted behavior is important. Would you explain how you would handle it?"

"Well, Mr. Welch, I love but one man and that's my husband, Jim. If I receive advances from any other men, I will first decline their advances. The second time I give a stern warning. The third time, they receive a knee in their gonads. If it should go any further, I would report it to my superiors and if the problem isn't taken care of, I will sue the violator and the company. If that sounds harsh to you I'm sorry, I'm just giving you the truth."

"I agree totally with you Kathy. I have two situations to bring to your attention and need your input. First, at your husbands company party we just happened to have people attending that party. It seems that someone made unwanted advances toward you and your husband reacted. Second, the couple entering the elevator at our party just happens to work at this firm. Would you care to comment on these situations?"

"Yes, sir. My love for my husband comes first in my life. The way he handled the situation at his party made me proud to be his wife. And the couple on the elevator just happened to see two people married twenty-four years and truly in love. I will not make excuses for romancing or loving my husband. Even at the cost of this position."

At that point Margaret and I came out. I walked over to my wife and hugged and kissed her and suggested we leave. Mr Welch said, "Please, both of you sit down. You need a further explanation. The executive position that is open is not for my associates. It's for me. Margaret wants to stop working and spend more time with our grandchildren. The position is the most important executive position we have. I need someone like you, Kathy. A woman who loves her husband, will not compromise herself or her position. Trust, loyalty, honesty are the top virtues we need here. Your husband is also important to us. When we have company dinners and parties, we need him by your side as a loving husband."

I spoke up, "I will always be at my wife's side. She means more to me than anything and I will help her anyway I can. I do have one request though. This is the holiday season and now Kathy is going to worry about this position until it's filled. Could they please notify us as soon as your decision is reached so we can go on with our lives. I don't want my wife being a nervous wreck for weeks."

Margaret said, "That sounds fair enough. Please wait in my office for a few minutes?"

We entered the office and noticed Margaret had left the intercom on. We heard them talking. "Well, Bill, what do you think?" 

"I like her a lot, Margaret. I think she would be a big asset to the business. What do you think, Margaret. Have any doubts?"

Margaret laughed, "Bill, if I had any doubts I wouldn't have left my intercom on so they could hear this conversation. Come on back in, Kathy, I think you heard enough."

We came back in the room, both of us with tears in our eyes. Margaret said, "It will be effective January 2, 2006. It will be announced in the paper on Christmas day or the day after depending on publication. You are free to tell you family and friends. We hope it livens up their Christmas."

Margaret went on to state that she would be in every day for a few hours training Kathy on all the duties. They congratulated us on such a wonderful marriage and said that was the deciding factor. 

Then Mr. Welch said, "Kathy, just so you know. The old couple getting on the elevator was my sister who owns 20% of the stock in the company. The man with her is my brother. He voted 100% in your favor. He is the best judge of character in this company. I have never known him to make a bad decision other than marrying my sister."

The week flew by. We had to finish our Christmas shopping and tell the kids about their mom's new job. Everything was good. I hadn't read any stories in a few days. Why read about it when I had the real thing?

After visiting with the kids on Christmas Eve, we went home to relax. While Kathy was taking a shower I decided to checking on an erotic story or two. It didn't bother Kathy anymore as long as I didn't stay on the computer. Kathy got out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her and came over to see what I was looking at. It was a story on anal sex. Kathy looked at the screen and said, "Don't even go there, buster," and smiled.

I turned off my computer and went to take a shower myself. When I came out of the bathroom, there lay Kathy in a lacy red and silk baby doll pajama set, basically a bra and panties set, pretty much see through. She said, "Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

I went over to the closet and took out a bouquet of flowers I had bought her, along with box of chocolates, her favorite. "Merry Christmas to you too, the love of my life."

I then stood in front of her completely naked and put a Santa hat on. She looked at me and started laughing. I told her that Santa was going to come tonight. With that we lay on the bed and made love till we both fell asleep.

The next morning I heard voices in the kitchen. I quickly got up put my pajama bottoms on, a t-shirt and went to see who was there. It was our oldest daughter, Donna. I wished her a Merry Christmas and asked what brought her over so early? Kathy was making coffee and she still had her robe on with her baby doll pajamas underneath. I walked up behind here and gave her a squeeze. 

"Dad, hello! I'm here, that can wait a few minutes. I just came over to drop off some of the food for dinner later. Mom said we will be eating around 1:00pm. Why are you so happy, dad?"

"Don't you know? Santa came last night," as Kathy elbowed me again. Damn! That always hurts. 

Donna said, "I hope my marriage will be as good as yours when I get older. I wish I knew the secret."

We both looked at her and at the same time said, "Communication." then I said, "And understanding and love."

*

Hope you enjoyed the story

comments welcome

DG Hear



Lacking Ability



As she gets out of bed she can already see she is running late. "Shit well he must be too then." heading downstairs she slips on a pair of jeans and makes some coffee. Before she can light the first smoke of the day he pulls into her driveway. 

Rolling her eyes she heads for the door, making her way down the driveway she can already see he is not what he said he was. Taking a deep breath as he steps out of the car she puts on her best bullshit smile and give him a hug. She can already feel him breathing hard in her ear, "How are ya hon?" pulling back he smiles at her 

"Better now." kissing her deeply, pushing his tongue into her mouth she resists the urge to bite it out of him mouth. Breaking the hold she heads for the door, opening the door for him she leads him inside to put down his stuff. They speak briefly as she thinks of a way out of it all. Seeing there isn't one she heads towards the living room to make sure the dogs haven't broken loose cause that's all she needs is a law suit. He follows behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders he spins her around and kisses her. Running his hands over her body, pulling down her tank top to get a look at her tits. She rolls her eyes behind closed lids as he looks her over.

Taking one nipple in his hand he pinches it until her eyes pop open and a small squeak escapes her. Looking at him "I woke up late and I haven't had a chance to shower yet. Why don't you have a seat and I will be back soon." He spins her around grabbing her jeans and ripping them down. Landing an array of slaps on her ass "You aren't ready and I told you to be. Now what should I do with you? Is this how you show respect to ME???" Letting her body register all that has just happened "No it isn't and that's why I said I would be right back." 

Heading for the stairs she can hear him following her, she turns to look and can see him following her up the stairs. Once in the bathroom she strips down and turns the water on as hot as she can stand it, leaving the curtain half way open so she can see him in the mirror. Watching her closely she washes herself in a slow manner, making sure he can see every move she makes, taking the razor in one hand she watches his face and she runs it over her legs and pussy to make sure she is totally clean shaven. 

She can already hear him breathing heavy as he watches her. Letting the water run over her al ittle longer "Are you almost done?" she can see his impatience "Yes I am almost done." as he opens the door she can feel the cool breeze coming through "Well I will meet you down stairs then." "OK" she rolls her eyes as he leaves and thinks quietly to herself "never again do I meet with out a pic."

Toweling off she brushes out her hair and looks herself over, smiling to herself "Well you don't look to bad for having 2 kids." Sighing she heads for the stairs. As she hits the bottom step he comes from around the corner placing her in total darkness. Allowing herself to be lead around the living room she is placed on her knees in the middle of the room. Pushed face down in the carpet, tying her hands behind her back and her ass in the air and exposed she can hear him moving around behind her. His hands run over her ass, pulling and pushing at her to see if she is stable, there is a sudden ring of pain in her body. She tries to upright herself and cant.

"Now for every 2 you count one and don't miss or we have to start all over again." Cursing herself for letting him position her "Yes" the assault begins crack,crack "One" as the tears automatically come to her eyes, "Two, Three, Four" she continues counting until she reaches 26. Leaning down to her "Very good, I see you can deal rather well." smiling at him "Yeah I am fine." Pulling her upright and uniting her hands she shakes them out and decides she is going to do what she does best. 

Sitting in front of her she can feel his body heat, hear his heavy breathing "Now suck it" as his cock presses against her lips. Taking her hands from behind her, placing them at the base of his shaft she licks the head, teasing it, running her tongue down the shaft and over his balls. Coming back to the head she lets her tongue slide over it as her tongue ring tickles that most sensitive spot. Pushing his cock into her mouth a few inches at a time, his hand on the back of her head, feeling him push her down she lets her teeth graze his cock. Waiting for a response and not getting one she continues to suck on it. 

Pushing it back at her pace, ignoring his pleas for her to go deeper she works her tongue around his cock and over it. Pushing it in and out of her mouth, swallowing as it gets to the back of her throat giving him the impression that she will deep throat and then pulls back. Pushing her back he places himself over her, letting his cock slide along her lips she rolls her eyes behind the blindfold. Pushing into her all the way she lets a small gasp escape her lips, pumping hard into her she can feel herself building despite the hatred she has already built up for him. 

Pushing into him, matching his stroke she feels herself go over the edge she lets a moan escape her lips, no sooner does she open her mouth but does she find his tongue in it. Pulling her head back he places his hand on her waist encouraging her to roll over. Following his lead she moves as he directs puling herself onto her hands and knees, she can feel him moving behind her, his cock within inches of her pussy. P

ushing into her she can hear his breathing increase greatly, feeling him jump and twitch inside her, a moan escapes him, pushing harder into her, he knocks her to the floor as he spends himself inside her. Feeling her knees scrape against the carpet she turns her head in his direction, "You done cause if that's all you got you wasted a trip." 

She can feel him freeze up against her. Pushing back to get him off of her, moving as she does, she takes the blindfold off, looking him in the eyes "Well? Is that it?" she waits for a answer. His face unmoving he doesn't answer her just looking at her as she picks up the blindfold and paces it over his eyes, walking behind him she pushes him to his stomach. Reaching for the hairbrush "Now for every 3 you will count one and miss once and I use the crop. Are we clear?" shaking his head yes crack,crack, crack "One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Seven, I mean six." 

Smiling brightly to herself "Now see you wanted me to use the crop first why didn't you say so?" Letting it fly she can already see the whelps starting to form on his ass, the higher the numbers get the harder it becomes for him to count. "30, please." 

Stepping from behind him, pushing him up by his shoulders, slapping him in the face "Next time you wanna fuck with a Mistress you let me know and we will see who Doms who OK. Cause you came here with a weak hand and lied to top it all off. Now you go tell are your Dom buddies that this Mistress with 11 years whipped your ass." Pulling the blindfold off of him 

"Now get dressed." Packing up his toys for him she grabs a robe and heads out the door, throwing his stuff in his car she can see him out of the corner of her eye. Pointing to the car he walks slowly towards her, leaning in he kisses her on the cheek.

"Well I guess I will see you around." her eyes burning into him 

"No you wont." Watching her walk away he pulls out of the driveway and heads back home defeated. Smiling to herself "Dom my ass." as she heads back in to finish her coffee and have that first smoke.



Lackluster Politics



One of the most unusual stories I covered in my long career as a political journalist was the race for mayor in the small town of Lackluster, Arizona. What first caught my attention was a brief news clip on television profiling one of the candidates, a dog named Harvey. I couldn't help but be curious about the forces in play that placed a candidate of such extreme ethnicity on the ballot. 

So, one sun honeyed Friday afternoon in mid-September, being in the area to do legwork on another story, I found myself driving down the narrow twisting highway that leads to Lackluster. This was the first of three visits I made over the course of the campaign.

I had some faint knowledge of this small community that sits in the high desert close to the Nevada border, nestled in the protective embrace of a small range of mountains called the Sierra Lobos. I knew, for instance, that it had come into existence as a silver mining town in the 1860's. Once boasting a population of almost 10,000 it had dwindled to something like 250 adults. I'd heard it was a place of ragtag charm that could touch a visitor with an authentic sense of what the spirit of the wild west must have been like one hundred years ago.

I can now tell you from personal experience that this is true. The habitations, because of a total lack of building ordinances, are a disorderedly hodgepodge of tiny trailers, single wides, manufactured homes, exotic owner built houses, and old miner's shacks. A substantial number of the latter have been abandoned. 

The population, due to a variety of factors, is in a constant state of flux but 250 adults isn't a bad estimate; if you include children, dogs, cats, and pot bellied pigs (of which there are two) you arrive at a figure of about 500. If the cattle that roam the streets at night are counted the number swells to something like 800. Add rabbits, the wild Jacks and Cottontails, and rattlesnakes and you have a population rivalling Phoenix.

Materially speaking this is one of the poorest areas in a poor county. About half of the adults are retirees and the rest either work in Rock Gulch 30 miles away or make a meager living catering to the small but steady flow of tourists. 

The Sierra Lobos, a yellowish-grey expanse covered with an anemic carpet of greenery and streaked with the yellow scars of mine tailings, fill the sky to the east while to the west is spread the floor of the Joshua valley. Only two streets are paved and even those aren't paved along their entire length. The others are covered with a yellowish gravel that generates thick clouds of dust every time a vehicle passes and, unless faithfully graded, are subject to becoming like a washboard which produces a bone-shaking ride when traversed in older vehicles. At times when the grading has been neglected the condition can be so bad that those attempting to speak are in danger of biting their tongues.

It is, clearly, a town that lives down to its name. But, as the old-timers are fond of saying, "What it lacks in luster it makes up in color." 

On that first afternoon, parking on the corner of Main and Arkansas next to an assemblage of weathered household goods and western curios that sprawled beneath a large sign that read, 'Bill's Mart', I crossed Main street and stepped up on the reverberent wooden walkway. To my right an imposing shaggy copper-colored dog lay against the wall, in the shade of the awning of Draybeck's Merchantile. As I reached for the door handle of Lackluster's small Post Office he gave one listless thump of his tail. This, I was informed moments later by Candice Estes, the postmistress, was Harvey, candidate for mayor.

Asked if Harvey was a Democrat or a Republican Candice said, with only a gleam of dry humor, "As far as we can determine he's a member of the Woof party because when questioned all he says is 'woof'. We do know that his party platform is the old boardwalk out front."

Olivia Duren, whom I found behind the counter at Draybeck's Merchantile, gave me a detailed account of the candidate's routine, "From about seven until nine he lies in the sun in front of the Post Office. At nine he edges into the shade under our awning and that's where you'll find him for the rest of the day. Finally, just before sundown, he wanders down Arkansas street to Walter Mason's old travel trailer where he spends the night."

I learned very early in my investigations that this was a town split down the middle. On one side ranged the longtime residents who wanted things to stay as they were and who could be found congregating at The Bended Arm Saloon or at meetings of the Penny Dreadful Revue with which Deadeye Doyle's Dastardly Desperados were affiliated. 

On the other side stood the newcomers to town, lean, hungry men and women, full of the fires of reformation, who wanted to build a tourist center, buy a computer for the water board, restructure the volunteer fire department, begin charging for flea market spaces, and create a Chamber of Commerce. These were folks who frequented the Gold Gulch Cafe, performed in Miss Daisy's Variety Show, and filled the ranks of Marshal Maynard's Mean And Ugly Lawmen. These were the men and women who'd decided that Lackluster needed a mayor.

Every Saturday the Penny Dreadful Revue and Miss Daisy's Variety Show would compete for the attention of the tourists with humorous skits and rollicking songs about life in the wild west. And twice on that day Deadeye Doyle's Dastardly Desperados and Marshal Maynard's Mean and Ugly Lawmen would meet on Main street for a spirited display of gunslinging. And it was clear the tourists appreciated, on some visceral level, that there was real animosity between these two groups.

It was G.G. Marquez, The Bended Arm's raconteur in residence, who filled me in on the machinations creating the power vacuum that had sucked Harvey into his current status. G.G. told me that the earnest young men, as the old-timers referred to the newcomers, had first decided that there needed to be a Town Council which they then formed and whose meetings were attended almost exclusively by those of their feather. 

For the first six months the long-term residents had observed the proceedings with indulgent amusement. But slowly, as word of the reforms the earnest young men were preparing to install drifted through the small community, there had been a growing sense of alarm. What finally galvanized the elders into action was the notice detailing the election process for selecting Lackluster's new mayor that was posted on the Post Office bulletin board.

Many disgruntled voices had been heard chewing on the news in The Bended Arm Saloon. Especially when it was announced that Don Robert, one of the most earnest of the earnest young men, had been nominated by his compatriots to run for the freshly minted office.

"I'd just as soon have Harvey for mayor," someone had said.

"Why not?" Someone else had asked. And so the idea, like so many that have changed the course of history, was conceived in a chance interplay of words.

"Nominating a dog to be our mayor is an insult to the democratic system. It's just plain wrong." Bill Murphy, 'Bill's Marts' proprietor, had howled at a Town Council meeting. But even the most biased reading of their own by-laws and election rules failed to provide them with the means to oppose the placement of Harvey's name on the ballot.

My initial thought was that the old-time residents would have been better served by a candidate with more get up and go, that they should have fought fire with fire. But that isn't the sort of spirit that reigns here. Nominating a candidate who could be counted on to maintain the status quo was their way of expressing their firm resolve to do things the way they liked doing them.

By the time I'd gathered the foregoing information it was almost nine o'clock in the evening. Someone mentioned that there was a room available at the bed and breakfast establishment above Draybeck's Merchantile so, not wishing to make the long trek back to Phoenix after such a long day, I made the necessary arrangements and was given a small room overlooking Main street.

Before retiring I walked downstairs and out onto the boardwalk to take one last look at the stars which, unlike the view I had at home, filled the sky with an awesome clarity. Then, high in the Sierra Lobos I saw what appeared to be the headlights of three vehicles move slowly across the face of the mountainside and then disappear. "What was that?" I asked Ezekial Crawford, who was sitting in the shadow nearby smoking a hand-rolled cigarette.

"Them's those Freedom League fellers," came the reply, dry as the desert wind. Two long-horned steers came around the side of Draybeck's Merchantile and ambled off across the parking lot of The Bended Arm.

The High Desert Freedom League, I knew from various collegues with whom I'd spoken, was a renegade militia unit that was rumored to roam these arid mountains in camoflaged clothing and dust covered four wheel drives. In fact I'd recently read a news release by Armed And Dangerous, the militia watchdog organization which had reportedly infiltrated the group, that called them a 'dangerous bunch of lawless misfits'.

"Have you ever met or seen them?" I asked Ezekial.

"Haven't and don't want to. Heard them suckers is mean as snakes."

I felt a cold shiver slide down my spine. "Well, I'd better be getting to bed," I said to the old man. "Nice talking with you."

"Yep."

I slept fitfully that night, primarily because the mattress was old and lumpy. Finally about five in the morning I sank into a fairly deep sleep. Then, with the abruptness of a stack of dishes being thrown into a sink, all vestiges of peace and quiet were torn from my consciousness by an extended volley of gunfire. With my heart pounding madly I sat up in bed. What could account for such a fusilade of booming shotguns and revolvers? My first thought was that the High Desert Freedom League had decided to knock over the tiny Post Office, located directly beneath me, in order to make off with the rich bounty of social security checks that infused the community with a sizable portion of its financial lifeblood. 

Shaking from head to foot, barely able to breath, I cautiously crawled over to the window and slowly poked my head above the sill. I was horrified to see the main street littered with dead and dying cowboys. One incongruity was the fact that, as I stuck my head up further, I saw along the street just below me a group of tourists placidly observing the carnage. Only then did I remember the staged gunfights between Deadeye Doyle's Dastardly Desperados and Marshal Maynard's Mean And Ugly Lawmen. I practically cried with relief to see the mortally wounded ranch hands rise grinning to their feet and wave to the small crowd.

Still shaking I got dressed and found my way to the Gold Gulch Cafe for breakfast. After eating and finishing several cups of strong black coffee to steady my nerves I retreated down the twisting highway leading out of town a little stunned by the strangeness of the world I'd entered.

Three weeks passed before I was able to return for a short visit. The first thing I noticed was that some wag had stapled a small hand-lettered sign above Harvey's favorite resting spot which read, "I will work like a dog for your welfare".

"We should have more politicians who work as hard as Harvey does," was Olivia Duren's comment to me. Later Arthur McNamara was to say, "Well, at least we know what he lies down for."

I learned that the old-timers, in their sessions at the Bended Arm Saloon, had shortened the "earnest young men" to the Ermyn. G.G. Marquez told me an amusing story of how Gladys Squire had chanced to say something about the Ermyn in the presence of one of them.

"There aren't any ermine around here," that severe soul had said.

"Oh yes there are," Gladys retorted. "Lots of them."

"Have you ever seen one?"

"All the time. I saw one today, in fact."

"Do you know what an ermine looks like?"

"Of course."

"Describe one."

"Sneaky. Beady eyes." By this time, G.G. told me, her tablemates were gasping and choking, shuddering as if diseased.

But I found that the denizens of the Gold Gulch Cafe also had a derogatory nickname for those with a subscription to Modern Maturity, calling them old fAARPs.

"He won't meet us for a substantative debate on the issues." I heard Don Robert complain while I was eating lunch, "He relies wholly on sound bites."

"More like sound barks," was Walter Mason's comment when I spoke with him. "And his sound bark is worse than his sound bite."

And, with my own ears, I found Harvey to be as laconic as the proverbial New Englander, making few speeches. Those he did make were short and to the point, often consisting of a single syllable.

Harvey, I learned, was a rare breed of political animal, one who was not driven by any kind of personal ambition. Indeed, Harvey wasn't driven by anything except, occasionally, Walter Mason's ancient pickup when he accompanied the old man to Desert Springs, a small community 20 miles north of Lackluster, to pick up groceries and kerosene with his ears flapping and a toothy grin on his face.

The only other news of interest was that the High Desert Freedom League was suspected of masterminding a local bank robbery.

During my third and final visit after the election had been held I learned that Harvey's campaign had been marked by a couple of near disasters. The first involved the Piscante County Animal Control. Joseph Neil filled me in on the particulars. Joseph's claim to fame were the words to the minor psychedelic hit, "Waiting For the Rain," recorded by Pink Avocado in the late 60's , better known for its 18 minute instrumental break than for its lyrics.

Apparently two animal control vans had pulled to a stop in front of the Post Office and three animal control personnel had jumped out as if making a raid on a crack house. They surrounded Harvey and put a rope around his neck.

"You can't take him, he's one of the candidates for mayor." Candice Estes had said, running out of the Post Office.

"Right," the animal control officer in charge had responded.

"He really is," another voice concurred.

"Lady, all I see is a loose dog without identification or a rabies tag. He's going to the pound. You can inform the owner to pick him up there."

"Why don't you pick up the dad-blamed cows? They cause a whole lot more trouble than Harvey does," Ezekial Crawford had said. He didn't receive a response.

Harvey was dragged into one of the vans and taken away. Later in the afternoon a delegation of Lackluster residents went to the pound to rescue him. Upon their return someone attached a frayed piece of rope to his collar to suggest a recent escape. It became known as 'Harvey's string tie'. Others formed a lookout for Animal Control, calling themselves,"a watchdog group watching for those who watch for dogs".

The second incident created more serious complications. According to G.G. Marquez it all began when a tourist, a woman who was spending a couple of days in the RV park, started walking up and down Main street calling, "Here Flower, come here Flower, you naughty little girl." She told those who questioned her that Flower was a dog who was in a 'delicate condition'. Unable to find Flower along the main drag the woman struck off down Arkansas street wheedling and remonstrating to the lost Flower in turns. When she was no more than a voice crying in the wilderness who should come sauntering down Main street but the bad girl herself. 

Harvey, at his post as usual, was quick to discern just what was meant by a 'delicate condition' and with a gleam in his eye and a glow in his heart went snuffling over to investigate. Moments later, to the consternation of those who witnessed the event, he and Flower were coupled. Frances Damler fled into the Gold Gulch cafe and emerged minutes later with a plastic pail full of cold water which she flung over the copulating canines. This had faint effect on Harvey's ardor. Only after the fourth pail had been emptied and Flower's owner had come screaming up Arkansas street did the two dogs finally cease and separate.

This, obviously, gave the opposition an arsenal of ammunition. Bill Murphy insisted that it made Harvey look less than mayoral and would hinder his ability to govern.

"Can we have our mayor screwing females, however willing, on the main street of town whenever his gonads become engorged?" Don Robert had asked with rhetorical zeal. "What will the tourists think?"

"Oh the tourists! The poor tourists!" Joseph Neil had exclaimed. 

"Well," Bill Murphy had weighed in, "just what will the tourists think if we have a mayor who humps their females without proper respect for the gravity of his office".

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," Betty Haalsbad remarked to me later, "Dogs will be dogs. At least he isn't a hypocrite. He does it right out in the open where everyone can see."

But these incidents couldn't KO the comeback canine because when all 183 votes had been carefully tabulated it was discovered that Harvey had won by one vote. Don Robert had to suffer the ultimate insult of being beaten by a dog, an exhibitionistic mongrel dog at that. I later overheard a woman say that she'd planned to vote for the Ermyn but had changed her mind because one night Harvey had chased some cattle out of her garden. Which should lay to rest the perception that Harvey didn't have keen political instincts, albeit cloaked by a facade of profound nonchalance.

I kept in touch with G.G. Marquez and learned, in the course of time, how Harvey's tale ended. Ironically, to the great chagrin of the old-timers, the huge influx of tourists wanting to see the dog mayor gave the Ermyn the leverage they needed to push through all their reforms so that by the time the next election rolled around it was Bill Murphy who saw that Harvey's name was on the ballot and the earnest young men who voted Harvey into his second term. As well as his third. At the beginning of his fourth term Harvey died in his office, that is to say, on the boardwalk in front of the Post Office. Today, where once a wag put a hand-lettered sign, there is a memorial plaque for the only dog mayor known to human history.

One final note... The High Desert Freedom League, cornered in Desert Springs by the Arizona Highway Patrol and the Piscante County Sheriff's Department, turned out to be composed of undercover agents of the FBI, ATF, IRS, Treasury Department, Postal Service, and one member of Armed And Dangerous, the militia watchdog organization. This group of men and women, charged with the responsibility of investigating the threat of militias, had unknowingly banded together thinking the others were the genuine article. The mayhem that resulted was due to their attempts to prove to one another their loyalty to the cause.