75 comments/ 25130 views/ 27 favorites Unneeded Ch. 01 By: Elenriel "No, my husband hasn't refused to come see you with me. I haven't told him I'm seeing a marriage counselor. I'm just not sure what's to be done for the best, so I haven't said anything." The counselor nodded and gestured with her pen that her new client should continue. "My husband and I have had a rather traditional marriage, with him working in corporate management and myself raising our three kids at home. You might say the two of us were on cruise control until the day he announced he'd been offered a big promotion...in Dallas. "Well, the kids and I went ballistic. All my family and friends are here. Our oldest is a senior in high school and was looking forward to a great final year on two varsity teams. The last thing he wanted was to move and become the unrecognized newbie at a new school. Our daughters, one and three years younger respectively, felt the same way about moving. "The four of us drove home the point that there was no way we could leave our home. We argued both en masse and by tag team until we wore him down. He said, 'All right already. I'll tell them I can't accept.' The kids acted immaturely like teenagers will; when they thought they were out of earshot they told each other they'd avoided a disaster by finally managing to explain a simple point to the 'rent. I tried to behave better, thanking him for putting us first. He was pretty damn quiet for a week or two, but then he seemed to get over it. "A few weeks later, he talked to me one night after dinner. He said, 'I bumped into a guy I used to work with and he had lost an awful lot of weight. I asked him about that and he said the trick that worked for him was to prepare all his own food. I asked why that made a difference and he said that it forced him to be more cognizant of what he was eating.' He said he wanted to try it, and promised he'd not let his experiment create more housework for me. "He started in on the experiment, generally cooking for himself while the kids and I ate what I had cooked. Since we usually eat in a space right next to the kitchen, it wasn't as if he wasn't present for family dinner. He could join in the conversation just as well a few feet away while he chopped and stirred. The meals he made were small, but healthful, and he usually cleaned up my mess as he went. "It was working for him; he was losing weight. He added a gym regimen as I'd long nagged him to do, and it went even better. He was dressing better, looking younger, and I approved. He started to go out on Thursday nights; a group of guys invited him to join their board game club, he said. "Matters drifted through the summer and into the fall. Then a neighborhood tailgate party brought my husband into the view of some of my women friends for the first time in a while. They seemed to me to be uncomfortable. After a few beers, one of them became uninhibited enough to blurt out the reason: in their experience a middle-aged man suddenly getting into shape and dressing more sharply raised red flags. "Their suspicions made me think back. Our sex life had been diminishing. Not dramatically, just an extra day or two between one interlude and the next, but that trend had slowly added up to an alarming degree. My libido has never been too high, and the lack had not registered on my consciousness. And there was certainly time in his schedule I couldn't account for. My neighbors' speculations, and all the cautionary tales I remembered from Dear Abby... By the time we got home, I was sure he was having an affair. "After the party, the beer and the home team's victory put my husband in the mood for sex. I refused him, lying about the reason. His face made it was clear I'd lost a few wife points sending him to bed unsatisfied, but I couldn't care less. Getting tested for STD's had to be task one. "I got in to have blood drawn that next morning, and then I started to plan how to catch him in infidelity. A simple Google search revealed a myriad of possibilities. There were logging programs you could hide on a cell phone or a personal computer. I bought one of each. It was easy to get the password for his phone − I just left mine at home when we went to see my son's football game. I asked to borrow his. 'Oh, hon...what's the passcode?' It took a bit longer to access his computer, but unless you're totally random, your wife can probably figure it out. "I seethed when I saw a large subdirectory of porn pictures, megabytes of big breasted women singly or in lesbian groups. I bypassed that and looked for incriminating e-mails. I didn't find any, there anyway. "That evening, he tried to get me into bed, and again I demurred. This time, with the images I'd seen conjuring up the scenario of him fantasizing about someone else... Well, I was rather rude about it. "After he was asleep, I crept out of bed and accessed the phone calls and e-mails my spy program had logged. Nothing there, either. "The next day I rented a logging GPS. Late at night I hid it in his car. If he was going on a tryst at lunch or on Thursday night, I'd soon know about it. I recruited a woman friend of mine that he doesn't know about to go to the health club at the same hours as he did to keep an eye on him. This also turned out to be a dead end. "Thursday night late when he came back from wherever, I downloaded the information from the GPS. I'd be ready next week. Next morning I also got the results from my doctor: all negative. I thanked goodness for little favors. "Each night I checked his computer and phone. I pored over the family financial records, looking for missing money. I paid for a full credit statement to see if there were any credit cards I didn't know about. I checked our tax forms (that I've always signed, unread) looking for accounts in an out-of-town bank. None of these steps yielded me anything. "When Thursday rolled around, I pulled out of our driveway about fifteen minutes after he had. I drove through the night to the address from last week's spying. His car was parked on a suburban street in front of a house. I was deliberately dressed in dark clothes and I crept towards the side of the house away from the street light. I steeled myself for what I was about to see. "I peeped in the window and beheld the last thing I expected. Ten middle-aged guys around two tables, pushing little plastic pieces around on cardboard maps. He really was playing board games with the guys! "A bee was in my bonnet for sure, and I began to spend real money for professional surveillance. I had him tailed and skip traced. Nothing. At last I paid to have him honey-trapped. For my trouble, I got a video of him flashing his wedding ring at the actress the agency had hired on my behalf. After I'd spent about $6000, the lead PI gave me the good news: 'Congratulations, your husband is completely faithful.' "At last I accepted it. Freud said, 'Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.' And sometimes a middle-aged guy getting in shape is just a middle-aged guy getting in shape. I hid the money I'd spent as best as I could. It will resist casual scrutiny, but if my husband ever looks hard enough, he'll find it. Fortunately, I handle most of the bill-paying in our house. "Now I had the challenge of trying to turn 180 degrees. Since our wedding night, we'd never gone nearly this long without sex. I figured that after such a wait, he'd be eager for me, but matter proved more difficult than I expected. I had to make it totally obvious that I wanted sex. And we did go to bed, and he took good care of my body. I came, and he did, too. But after the lights were out, I was unsettled. The event lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. I focused on what happened, and it came to me: I had been given maintenance sex. "Now over the years I've given maintenance sex more times than not. I've mentioned my libido is low, but except for this recent nuttiness, I've always wanted to be there for my husband sexually. But this was, as far as I know, my first time on the receiving end of maintenance sex. Emotionally, I was unsatisfied, and I hoped that all the times I'd done it, I'd done it better. "Clearly getting our sex life on track again was going to take more than one good boink, but I wasn't really worried about eventual success. But the next night he stayed up later than me. To take care of a chore, he said. Was he going to masturbate to avoid me? Well, I guess I hadn't kicked the habit of spying on him. I crept to the door of the stairs to the basement and peeped through the crack near the hinges. I got my biggest surprise yet: he was sewing on a button! "This seemed crazy! He'd never sewn on a button in his life. He even had my tailoring book open to learn how to do it. What reason could there be for that? He wouldn't have to explain to me why he'd lost a button when he asked me to do it, same as the countless times he's asked me before. "I tiptoed away quietly, but my thoughts were racing. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. He didn't want to need me for anything. His losing weight, getting into shape: they weren't for appealing to a new lover, they were a ruse for not eating my cooking. He didn't want to need me for cooking or cleaning or sex, or even for sewing on buttons. And I'd missed it all because he hadn't stopping giving to the marriage, nor from giving to the family. He'd only stopped taking from it. "I saw clearly now that the promotion we'd coerced him to forgo meant more to him than I'd ever guessed. His need for me had forced him to give up a dream. Now he was determined to overcome that need so it could never happen again. "So here I am with you. Having misdiagnosed my real problem for so long, I don't know what's to be done for the best. How do you get someone to take more psychic rewards from you than they want to take? Maybe I should do nothing. Maybe he only needs the ability to leave, not to actually leave. If I don't threaten this new...blue security blanket...and gradually draw him back into our bed in earnest, I'll be okay. "But what if he's just waiting for a particular time, like when the kids are all sent off to college, to leave? I might be kicking myself for not acting when I had the chance. "One thing I've thought of is trying to make him just a little bit jealous. I wouldn't want him to think I'm cheating − better only one of us descend into that pit. But if I got him to see other men regarding me as desirable he might wake up to what he's got. "I've pondered riskier strategies. I've read on the Internet about women who dominate their men sexually. This might succeed spectacularly, like a judo throw uses someone's force against them. It could also fail spectacularly. I'll be trying to coerce him into emotional dependence when he's fleeing from that very thing." She turned to face the therapist. "So that's my story. In your professional opinion, what should I do?" =========== So far as I know, this is a unique "loving wives" premise, and I wrote this because that premise intrigued me. But as I upload this, I haven't yet written the second chapter this tale obviously needs...because I don't yet know how it ends. I would appreciate comments suggesting directions for Chapter 2. Unneeded Ch. 02 At the end of chapter 1, I confessed I was divided in mind about how the tale should end, and asked for comments. Quite a few suggested I leave it as it was, finished in one episode, and I admit to being tempted. But the implication that there would be an ending seemed an obligation. Some said, "take your time," others said, "don't make us wait." The theme suggestions were all over the map, but one captured my imagination. It started, "Please don't have the therapist be some man hating moron..." As you'll see below, that's the one I took to heart. ============== The marriage counselor looked up from the notes she'd been taking. "So, you'd like my professional opinion about your situation. Do you mind if I develop it through Socratic questions, Mrs. Anderson?" she asked. "Not if that helps. Call me Lisa." "Thank you. And I'm Karen if you will. So, Lisa. Why do you want to stay married?" "What!?" "The statutes in this State and the judges in this jurisdiction bend over backwards to accommodate long term stay-at-home mothers. You'd get the kids, the house, half the other assets and most of your husband's paycheck for years. Why don't you just put your dilemma behind you in divorce court?" "What kind of marriage counselor starts by suggesting divorce?" Lisa demanded shrilly. "These questions are intended to focus your thinking, not to reveal my thinking. With that in mind, let's take it from the top. Why not just serve your husband Lars with papers?" "Because I love my husband! Haven't I made that clear?" Karen made an elaborate show of paging back through her notes, as if scanning them for evidence. When she reached the end of the pages, she caught Lisa's eyes with her own and slowly shook her head "no." Lisa's outrage deflated visibly. "I love my husband. He's my mate, not my meal ticket. I never want to be parted from him," she said, subdued. "You've given me a lot more disclosure than you've given him lately. If I couldn't work that out from what I've heard, isn't there some chance he's in doubt?" "I guess he might well be," Lisa murmured, chastened. "Does he love you?" "I never doubted it until this crazy time. Even now, wouldn't it be hard for him to continue to be giving, month after month, if he felt no love?" "What have you done that's unforgivable?" When the question registered with Lisa, multiple emotions flashed across her face, terror prime among them. Then she noticed Karen's composed face. Slowly, the correct answer dawned on her. "Nothing." "Clarify, please." "I took the kid's side in the matter of the promotion. I withheld sex for three weeks. I spent family money on a wild goose chase. These are serious faults, but they're faults the Lars I married could forgive." "What has your husband done that's unforgivable?" "Nothing. He seems to be training himself to do without me, and that makes me sad. But if there was anything to forgive, I'd do it in a heartbeat." "If a husband and wife still love each other, and neither has done anything unforgivable, prospects are favorable. Why didn't you start with a couple's session with me?" "The reason I didn't do that yet is that when a wife drags her husband to a marriage counselor, the default assumption is she has complaints. His mental narrative could be, 'I'm giving everything and taking nothing, and she still has complaints! What does a guy have to do these days?' I wanted to hear your take before I risked that." "What are some of the ways you used to give to him that he's avoiding?" "With all modesty, I am a great cook; he's got to be missing his favorite recipes. I made sure we had a good social life, and he hasn't made full use of that like he used to. I always strive to choose things he'd like, even if they're not my favorite." Lisa smiled wanly. "I haven't dragged him to a 'chick flick' in years." "What are the ways he kept giving to the family so that you didn't diagnose this earlier?" "All kinds of ways. We went to family events together, we had good date nights, he rubbed my tired feet while listening to me talk, and brought home flowers from time to time. Lots of little stuff, too." "How cognizant do you suppose he was, doing all this?" "Beg pardon?" "To what extent was he following a conscious plan, and to what extent was he following subconscious desires?" "Um...There had to be some planning. Partially cognizant, I guess you'd say." "Why did he bother to hide his intention to be less mutually dependent? Wouldn't a more open approach have prompted you to make changes? What advantage does he gain from stealth?" "To make me hurt more when he walked out?" Sheila's doubt was manifest on her face. "Doesn't that sound like a lot of work for little benefit?" Sheila suddenly got Karen's point. "To have an abort switch! To be able to pull the plug on his plan if he changed his mind so that I'd never know." "What does that make you think you should strive for?" "My best result will be to get him to decide to use that abort switch." "You said you considered a 'slow and steady' approach. What are the potential disadvantages with that?" Lisa thought about it for a bit. "If we hit some shock, my fragile position might totally shatter, even if up until that moment he hadn't wanted to actually leave me." "What are the disadvantages of a 'provoke jealousy' strategy?" Karen's 'Socratic method' was challenging, but Lisa conceded mentally that it was working. Once again she pondered at length, and Karen waited patiently. "My goal is to make him comfortable taking marital rewards from me as he used to. Showing him evidence that I could easily shift my rewards to someone else would only make him more fearful of depending on an unreliable source," she finally reasoned. "What are the disadvantages of a 'sexual domination' strategy?" "It could fail disastrously." "Think back to the matter of the promotion and put yourself in his shoes. What were his emotions when he conceded your point?" "Disappointment." "Mostly disappointment, but also some..." Lisa's eyes narrowed briefly in thought. After a beat she answered. "Humiliation." "A teaspoon of humiliation caused him to give up on a twenty year habit of mutual dependence with you. What would happen if you tried to force feed him a bowlful of it?" "Ka-boom." Lisa pantomimed an explosion with her fingertips. "You've blown up all the ideas I came in here with. Thank you for that. What do I do then?" "What are your assets in this situation?" "His past is all bound up with me: our friends, our home, our many memories of good years together." "True. Does his 'don't stop giving' strategy provide a loophole you can use?" Lisa frowned in thought, then a slow smile crept across her face. "If I ask for something reasonable, he has to give it or risk the revealing of his ruse." "How can you use that to rebuild your marriage?" "I could ask for something that also requires him to take something reciprocally." "In the interest of generating some momentum in your favor, is there anything he's always wanted from you that you've never given?" Lisa turned bright scarlet. "He...we..." She paused to gain composure. Karen waited with the patience she seemed to have in abundance. Finally Lisa restarted. "I give him oral sex, but I've never let him go all the way. I just couldn't bring myself to do it, and he gave up asking years ago." "Does he give you oral sex?" "Oh, yes. He's good at it. It's my favorite part." "Does he get your vaginal lubrication on his face when he does it?" Lisa looked embarrassed and guilty. "Of course he does." "Do you withhold because of the squeamish factor, or is there something more?" "Just squeamish, I guess." "Suppose it were possible to reduce your inhibitions in this area. Would you do it?" "Yes," Lisa admitted, wondering where this was going. "Very well. Would you lie down on that couch please?" Lisa gulped audibly. Karen was going to do something about that oh-so-intimate subject right here and now? Lisa was hesitant, but Karen seemed to understand her better than Lisa understood herself. She got up from the chair and settled down on the couch as bidden. *** When Lars entered his house after work the following Friday evening, he was set to say, "Honey, I'm home!" But the sound of two voices in full-bellied laughter from the dining room cut him off. He remained silent when his wife's voice emerged from the mirth. It had traces of shock, embarrassment, and delight within it. "No...you didn't do that! You did!" "We sure did, at least once a month." That other voice was full of pride as well as delight. Lars was sure he'd heard it before. He cudgeled his memory and identified it: that somewhat older widow from down the block...Millie! That was the name. "Yes, we were quite the hot couple. I miss him every day," Millie reminisced. "I wonder if Lars would play like that? I've been a real crab this last month; maybe that 'hot housewife from the audience' game you told me about would make it up to him. I know I want to try it." "Well, it always put a smile on my husband's face for days. It couldn't hurt to ask Lars." "Can I freshen your coffee?" "No, I should go. I have a date!" Millie finished brightly. "Oh! That's good." "It's been a year. It's time I was out in the world again − meet some nice man." Lars heard chairs pushing back. He opened the front door and this time did say, "Honey! I'm home." Lisa and Millie emerged from the dining room. Lisa stepped forwards and kissed her husband. "Welcome home, Dear." Millie moved towards the door. "I should be going." She paused and looked Lars up and down. "You might be in for an 'interesting evening,'" she noted archly. Then she went out. Back inside, Lars played dumb. "What did she mean by that?" "The stories she was just telling me about the sex games she and her husband used to play! My face went red over and over!" A smile full of mischief brightened her face. "Drop that briefcase," she demanded. "Let's not waste this moment when the kids are all out for the evening." She grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the entrance to the dining room. As she pulled him along she clarified, "Your role in this game is 'Morpheo the Magnificent,' stage hypnotist. I was in your show last evening and you desired me so much that you didn't remove the obedience trigger. That trigger is...what?" Lisa could see that Lars was a bit off-balance by the rush of events. "Uhh...'blue moon?'" "That's good. You're so smitten that you've thrown ethics to the wind. You just have to have that housewife from the audience. What's my fantasy name?" "Uhh...I suppose, Judy?" It had been Karen's suggestion to move with unseemly haste at this moment, and that intuition seemed to be correct. "I'm Judy, then. You've traced me to a restaurant and intend to have your way with me. Give me ten seconds, then make your entrance." She scurried around the corner and Lars heard a few hasty preparations being made. He was dazed by all this, but he had to admit, he was curious. After ten seconds, he entered as bidden. Lisa was sitting at the table, nibbling at a cookie in the fastidious way one uses at a restaurant but not at home. She took a sip of coffee. She pretended not to notice him. Apparently the first line was his. "Good evening, Judy," Lars said. Lisa looked exaggeratedly closely, as if she didn't recognize him for a few seconds. Then she let her face assume a visage of desire and apprehension mixed. "Morpheo!" Lars sat down at the table without being asked. He supposed that he was supposed to play this role dominantly. "It's nice to see you again, Judy. Did you enjoy being in my show?" "Yes. It was fun, being able to let my hair down in front of everybody. It was even a little...umm," she cast her eyes down demurely, "hot." "You were a good subject, the kind that only comes around once in a blue moon." Lisa let emotion slide from her face. Her head rose and adopted a level, neutral posture. She was more channeling movies and TV shows, rather than her recent actual experience. "Yes, master?" she murmured. Lars continued to make it up as he went along. "Do you live nearby?" "Yes, master." "Take me there." "Yes, master." She led Lars sedately up the stairs and to their bedroom. "I live here," she revealed. Then she waited for Lars to make the next move, standing with eyes ahead. "Since I put on a show for you, it's only fair you put on one for me," Lars said, getting into the game in spite of any reservations he might have had if allowed to think matters through. "Since you're a strip tease artist, undress artistically for me." Lisa was glad Lars had decided to go that way. She'd known most of this would be ad lib, but she was a fair dancer for a housewife. She elected to cha-cha to music playing only in her own head as she unbuttoned her blouse heartbreakingly slowly. Lars sat down on a recliner to watch the show he'd commanded. Lisa teased unmercifully, playfully reaching behind her back to unsnap her bra six times before finally deigning to do it. Even then, she didn't let the cups fall from her breasts − not yet anyway! She swayed and danced, and did take her arms out of the straps. She hinted at revealing her curves many times, and when she actually did it, without a "tell" preceding it, Lars' breath caught in this throat. Lisa smiled knowingly. Her middle-aged breasts and nipples had swelled and diminished three times to feed her babies, so they didn't have the resilience of youth. But experienced breasts have a charm of their own, and Lisa shifted from the cha-cha to the sidestep to set her bosom into swaying motion. She pulled the zipper on her skirt down a single inch, then pulled her hands back to her breasts. She pinched her nipples and rolled them between finger and thumb. Only after feeling herself up thoroughly did she vouchsafe Lars a second inch of her zipper. Lisa reached up under the hem of the very skirt with which Lars was being teased. She let her face suggest that her questing hand had found something remarkable. She retracted fingertips glistening with lubrication, which she used to paint her nipples, stiffening them visibly. She gifted him with another inch of her zipper, but that wasn't quite enough to allow the garment to fall. She shifted her dance steps again into a hula. The movement of her swaying hips tugged at that infernal zipper, disengaging tooth by tooth, slowly. Without warning, the critical level was reached and the skirt fell to her feet. Only powder blue satin panties kept her show from being complete. Lisa pantomimed slow dancing with an invisible lover. Her arms seemed to be around unseen shoulders, but she ground her mons against the empty air where the phantom's cock would surely have been. Finally, she peeled those panties from around her hips, inch by inch, folding the edge over again and again until their lost their grip on her hips and fell around her ankles. For a dramatic ending, she kneeled down before her husband, eyes downcast, submissive. Will he or nil he, Lars was fully engaged in the scene. "Tell me what you are, Judy." "I am your sex slave, master," Lisa whispered, her eyes still submissively averted. "You may undress me, slave." Lars stood up before her. "Thank you master," Lisa efficiently undressed her husband. He seated himself again. "Are you aroused, my slave?" "Unbearably, master," Lisa whimpered, not entirely pretending. "You have my permission to masturbate." "Thank you, master!" Lisa lay back on the carpet, spread her legs wide, and drew her knees up to offer Lars the clearest view. Her left hand pistoned in and out of her vagina, her right hand whipped her sweet spot frantically to and fro. She noticed through slitted eyes that Lars was stroking himself slowly while watching her with rapt eyes. "Don't go too far, honey," she begged in the silence of her mind. "That has to be my job!" Mercifully quickly, Lisa got her cookies and let her hands slide bonelessly to the carpet in token of it. Lars took note of it. "Are you sated, Judy?" "Oh, yes!" Lisa's smile was beatific. "Suck my cock, slave." Silently, Lisa exulted. This was what she'd hoped for, what this scene was really intended to provoke: her husband asking for oral sex. Lars was about to get a surprise, Lisa thought. In a vocalization so faint it really only sounded within her own head, Lisa intoned, "Pink kiwifruit." That triggered the only real hypnosis occurring on that occasion. Karen's skillfully placed suggestions began to unwind from her subconscious. {When you speak the words, 'pink kiwifruit,' aloud, no matter how faintly, you'll be filled with the desire to bring pleasure to your husband orally. First you'll feel your mouth open, forming the cutest little pink 'O'. For a few seconds, it will be an irresistible reflex. You'll feel your mouth to be achingly empty.} Lars smiled to see his wife approach on her knees with her eyes full of lechery. Her mouth was open as if lust crazed. She paused for a moment and gazed on his member with naked desire, her lips parted like a sex doll's. Then she pounced, hungrily. {Feel the vital warmth of it in your mouth. The pulse of his heartbeat within his erection vibrates rhythmically against your tongue. Your femininity, your desirability...that's what made him hard. Glory in it.} Lars watched in fascination as Lisa's head bobbed up and down. She'd never seemed so engaged before. His view of what she was doing was particularly erotic; the scene was softened and slightly hidden by her long hair as her stroking head caused the tresses to whirl and dance. Her right hand's gentle grip moved along with her mouth and reinforced its effect. Her left hand cradled his balls lovingly. {It's almost as if your mouth has become a second vagina. What does your mouth-pussy want? What all pussies want: to be filled up with their mate's seed. Lars is your mate. You want his cum. Your mouth-pussy can make him surrender it; cocks weren't designed to say no to pussies.} This was the best sex Lars had ever had! His wife was using her lips, her tongue, and her hands in perfect harmony and with a wild abandon he'd never seen. His passion raced higher and higher. It was with a stab of emotional pain he murmured, "I'm close, hon," their time-worn warning that it was time for her to stop. He'd never been more reluctant to say it. {Let all the love you feel fill you up. Be the best lover in the world for your man. Bind his love to you by the pleasure he feels and the attention you lavish on him.} Lars was trembling like a leaf. "Hon, I'm close!" he said louder. But Lisa wasn't going to stop. Lars' eyes opened wide in realization of that, then slammed shut as the moment of inevitability seized him. {When he reaches the peak and your start to feel his hot, thick cum in your mouth, your engagement will be total. There's no way you'll be able separate from him until his climax has run it's course. You couldn't bear that. Flick his sensitive rim with your tongue, pump with your hand, and let him fill you up. Taste the proof of your skill. Take all of it. You're filled with pride and happiness at your accomplishment.} His climax seemed to go on and on! Lisa kept up all she was doing so as to make Lars' experience all it could be, pumping and licking. When it was finally over, she knew to shift to slower, milking strokes to complete his experience. Unneeded Ch. 02 {When you're at last doing the milking strokes, you'll want to consume what he's given you to prove you accept all of him. Swallow it down. Smile at your husband. Bask in his regard. You're filled with happiness and contentment.} Another surprise for Lars: his wife gulped down his cum, then beamed up at him and smiled! She laid her head in his lap and nuzzled. Catching her breath, Lisa felt the velvet-covered-steel grip of Karen's post-hypnotic suggestions release her. "At least until the next time," she thought. Out loud she said, "Wow! I guess that fantasy really took a hold of my imagination. A hypnotized sex slave couldn't stop a blow job half way, could she? So I couldn't either." Lisa giggled. "And now I realize I've been scared of nothing all these years. I've had the visible proof from your hard cock afterwards that feeling me cum under your demanding tongue was arousing to you, but I always thought it would be different for me. That tasting your fluids would turn me off to you. But now that I've tried it, I feel closer to you than ever." Lisa felt her husband's hand gently petting her hair as her head continued to rest in his lap. After about a minute, it slowed and stopped. Lisa was actually happy Lars was a bit drained at this time. She carefully disengaged, whispering, "You rest here, dear. I'll make something restorative." Lisa went down to the kitchen and took a cut of the finest wagyu beef out of the refrigerator. She used this excellent starting material to make the best-ever edition of one of her signature dishes, steak with red wine sauce. She portioned it, and some of his favorite side dishes, according to the amount he would have made for himself so as not to seem to be sabotaging his diet. She did match it with a highly regarded craft beer, however. The scent of it all brought Lars downstairs. When he came in, Lisa said, "I know you like to cook for yourself, but it seemed maybe after that draining, you wouldn't mind having it done for you." She paused and smiled a naughty smile. "Besides, I figured you should have some good, red meat to replenish all the protein you fed me." While they ate, they talked: familiar things as a long-married couple will. When their plates were clean, Lisa led Lars back to the bed and had him lie face down. "I want to give you a nice back rub," she declared. "It's been a tough month for me, and I know I've been a crab. Let me make it up to you." She wasn't at it long, however. A day of work, a tummy full of well-marbled steak, a glass of beer, and the cock-draining of a lifetime conspired to put Lars quickly to sleep. Lisa tiptoed away, not as yet tired enough for bed. She wondered how best to reward Millie for playing her part in the pre-scripted drama they'd put on for Lars. Karen had suggested it so that Lars would have a plausible and non-threatening explanation for the source of the additional sex games Lisa would contrive. Lisa was under no illusions that one good night would set everything to rights, but the campaign was definitely well begun. And Lisa trusted Karen's final assessment: if Lisa always put Lars first, he would never leave her. Unneeded Ch. 03 Several of the comments on Chapter 2 suggested that the sudden change in Lisa's technique should rouse Lars' suspicions. Other comments expressed curiosity about Lars' rationales. This chapter provides these things. ============== Karen Ross opened her office door. "Mr. Anderson, I'm ready for our session now. Would you please come in?" "Actually, though I told your receptionist I wanted a session with you, I actually just want to ask a few questions." "About what subject?" "About my wife. I know she saw you lately." "Normally, client confidences are something I would not reveal, even to the extent of verifying they are a client, even to a spouse. However, in your case I have your Lisa's previously given permission to disclose anything that in my personal opinion would be helpful in strengthening your marriage to her. So please come in and have a seat. My expectation is that over the course of our session, you will have the answers you seek." Lars Anderson was a touch uncomfortable that the counselor still called this a session. He didn't really want therapy. But the promise of answers induced him to enter and be seated. "You can call me Karen, or Mrs. Ross, whichever you wish. As I said, I have her permission to disclose her confidences. Unless you decide to give me similar permission, however, I will keep your confidences from her. May I ask whether she disclosed her visit to you, or whether you found out another way?" "I found your invoice for services rendered in the credit card summary." "That is interesting, since Lisa mentioned in passing that she paid routine bills. Were you looking for something specific?" "Frankly, I was looking for hotel bills." "Why did you do that?" "I think she might be cheating on me." "What brings you to that hypothesis?" "Her sexual technique lately got a lot better. I'm thinking she's learned something from another lover and she's feeling guilty, so I'm getting some leftovers." Lars noticed an odd expression cross Karen's features just for an instant. Then she said, "I prefer to mainly proceed with Socratic questions, but I feel I should interject with a comment here. I am certain your wife is not cheating on you, and never has. Further, I know that you are not cheating on her, at least at present. But for now, let's defer the matter of how I know these things to be true." Lars' face was a strange mix of relief and skepticism. Karen continued, "Let's start with why she came to see me. What is the most common reason a wife would seek marriage counseling?" "Because she's dissatisfied with her husband and she wants the counselor to backstop her demand for changes." "A bit roughly put, but yes, that does explain quite a few scenarios. But it's entirely incorrect for Lisa − almost 180 degrees off, in fact. So now that you know she's not dissatisfied with what you're giving to the marriage, what do you think she is worried about?" A bit of Lars' challenging demeanor melted away. "How little I'm taking." There was a long pause. "She figured it out?" "Just lately. Is Lisa's impression correct that your family's reaction to the promotion you were offered caused a change in you?" Lars let out a long breath. "Yes. For a few days after the big argument it was a sort of self-loathing: 'Why didn't you stand up for your rights like a man.' But the more I brooded on it, I realized − I had no rights to stand up for! Feminists assert that marriage is a patriarchal institution designed to oppress women. That's crap. There's nothing about my marriage about which I can say, 'I'm entitled to this because I'm a husband,' and expect the world to agree. Lisa has recourses. I don't." "That's an interesting choice of words: 'recourses.' I've counseled many couples, and I haven't heard a client say that before. Could you elaborate?" Lars twisted his shoulders as if trying stretch out a massive tension. "Suppose I cheated on Lisa. She could ask a court for a divorce, banish me from my home, isolate me from my kids, and get paid maintenance for years; that's her recourse. Suppose Lisa cheats on me. What would a court do to give me a recourse? Banish me from my home, isolate me from my kids, and force me to pay maintenance for years, that's what." "Lamentably true. That's why I hate it whenever my couples work doesn't gel. Where did this train of thought take you?" "This may sound crazy, but I thought that my only defense against being jerked around was to have less to lose, emotionally, than Lisa. I had always been the partner more invested in the relationship. The disadvantage of that was suddenly apparent. I started thinking of ways to intensify her emotional attachment, and reduce mine. I trained myself to be an even better husband, to change her BATNA, and mine." Dr. Ross interjected, "I'm afraid I don't know that term." "Oh. BATNA is an acronym for Best Alternative To a Negotiated Agreement. It comes from negotiation theory. I have to think about that at work all the time as I hammer out terms with vendors and customers. I try to improve my BATNA: the alternative I'll have to fall back on if negotiations fail completely. If my best alternative is pretty good, I'm less likely to have to swallow a raw deal. "Trained the way I am, I saw the question of moving to Dallas as a negotiation. Lisa pushed me to the wall, and I had to cave because my BATNA was poor. I had to give up the job I've worked for my whole career because her implied threat to withhold her love was something I wasn't ready to face." "Lisa reported your children were a potent force in this 'negotiation.' How do you feel about them now?" Lars scrunched his face a bit before answering. "Our children are good kids. Lisa and I have raised them right. They get good grades − teacher's favorites all, actually − and are never in trouble. But they're still kids, you know, and kids are slow to give up the idea their parents might have their own needs. Did you ever see the movie, "Going My Way?" "With Bing Crosby, right?" Karen ventured. "Yeah. Crosby's character says something like, 'You know, when I was 18, I thought my father was pretty dumb. After a while, when I got to be 21, I was amazed to find out how much he'd learned in three years.' So I put most of the blame on Lisa. If she'd been on my side, together we'd have gotten the kids to accept the move." "So you began to employ ruses to avoid receiving your wife's loving gestures?" "Uh-huh. I know how sad that sounds, and it often was sad, but it was empowering, too. Look at me." Lars slapped his abdomen. "This was a pot belly, half a year ago. I've made new friends who I wouldn't lose if Lisa forced them to take sides. I've even developed new ways to relate to the kids that aren't channeled so much through Lisa." "As a part of that strategy, you consciously allowed your physical intimacy with Lisa diminish?" "Well, that's only partly true. We hugged and kissed as often − maybe more. We just didn't have sex as often. And I expect Lisa looked on that as a positive, at least unconsciously. Her libido has always been less than mine." Lars made a moue. "At a certain point I developed a morbid curiosity: how low would we go before she wasn't getting enough." "But you never cheated on her to make up the difference?" "No!" Lars paused to formulate his thoughts before speaking again. "First, I love Lisa. I was hurt by learning I was low man on the family totem pole, but you don't just throw away twenty good years. Second, I'm not the sort that breaks promises. And third, it would wreck my strategy. I want her to be heavily invested in me. For me to be caught cheating would make her less engaged in a hurry." There was another pause. Then Lars' eyes narrowed. "Hey, wait a second. You said at the start you knew I hadn't cheated. How?" "What's my only source for such a declaration?" "Lisa." "And how could she be certain?" "She...checked up on me?" "Quite thoroughly, in fact. Rented spy gadgets, had friends tailing you, the whole nine yards." "Damn! How did that happen? I never did anything suspicious because I never did anything. What did I do wrong?" "Lisa reported that her attitude hardened when her suspicions began, and she began withholding sex for fear of an STD. Do you recall her doing that?" "I sure do." "Do you recall an event around the time that started?" "Since you ask, it started the night after a neighborhood tailgate party." "What do you guess might have happened at that party?" "I don't know. We guys mostly hung out together, talking football and barbecue sauces. The gals mostly hung out as a group, too. I don't know what they talked about. I certainly didn't flirt with any of them, if that's what you're getting at." "Still, think about those wives. What did they see when they noticed you?" "I'd be startled to learn that they noticed me." "We women notice more about men than you'd think. What was different about you?" "I'd gotten into better shape?" "Which means what to middle aged wives raised on Dear Abby?" Lars got the point. "That I'm doing it for the 'Other Woman.' Because all guys are...what's the male synonym for 'skanks?'" "Lamentably, Lisa listened to them, and then turned P.I. She neglected you for several weeks until the fact of your fidelity became established beyond doubt." Karen picked up her notebook and glanced through it. "Lisa told me, 'Freud said, 'Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.' And sometimes a guy getting in shape is just a guy getting in shape.'" "I knew I was in the doghouse; I just didn't know why. I didn't fight it. Perversely, I thought, 'Be that way. I want to need you less anyway.'" "When the truth was established, she tried to initiate sex that night. Do you remember it?" "I wasn't really into it. Three weeks is a long time to stew on injustice." "She said it was the first time you'd ever given her 'maintenance sex.'" "Pardon?" "Sex when your body doesn't need it, but the relationship does." "I've received some of that, but I knew going in that Lisa's needs in the sex department are less than mine. She seldom turns me down when I initiate, at least that's how it used to be." "Shortly after that evening, something happened that opened Lisa's eyes to your coping strategy. Can you remember what that might have been?" "Nothing comes to mind." "Do you remember doing something for yourself that you've never done before? Something that she witnessed that seemed absolutely inexplicable to Lisa. Something that yanked her thoughts in an entirely new direction?" Lars brooded at bit, then ventured, "Me sewing?" Karen nodded. "Sometimes the tiniest pebble starts an avalanche. She pretty much worked everything out from there." "What did she do then?" "She made an appointment with me. Your strategy has worked to this extent; she perceives her...what was it?...BATNA to be poor. She loves you, she wants to be with you all her life, and is frightened that you seem to be preparing yourself to leave her. She wonders whether you're just waiting for the kids to go to college." Lars seemed chastened. "I never planned to leave at all. I just didn't want to get jerked around again." "You've both jumped to conclusions; particularly, you both suspected the other of cheating on slender evidence. You've both withheld feelings that should have been shared. But neither of you has done anything unforgivable. Further, Lisa has learned a valuable lesson: that the husband/wife relationship has to be the primary one in the house. That suggests to me that with some frank communication you two can come out of this better than ever." Karen shrugged. "Lisa and I both thought that much needed conversation might be easier after she'd earned back a few wife points first." "That sounds right," Lars asserted, "but I still have an issue. I'm still thinking she took some revenge sex when she thought I was cheating. Further, I think she gave her lover things she'd never given me, just to twist the knife. You said at the start that I was wrong about that, but no one changes that much, that fast when it comes to sex. Not on their own. It's like she was coached by an expert." Karen blew on her fingernails and buffed them on her lapel in the classic metaphor for pride in a task well done. "Thanks!" she said brightly. "You!" Lars looked for a moment like he'd been poleaxed. "You got her to suck and swallow?!" "It's more than you know. I didn't just tell her how. I hypnotized her, and in deep trance had her practice the lesson with the Lars within her imagination. Then I implanted a post-hypnotic trigger she can fire off herself when she wants to bolster her attitude and her technique when it comes to oral sex. I actually gave her several other mental tools to use when she feels the need for them in the bedroom. I think that going forward, far fewer of your interludes with Lisa will be maintenance sex." "Wow," Lars breathed, trying to wrap his head around this revelation. "That her technique was so good it made you suspicious is evidence of how strong her rapport with me was. There's no chance she lied when I verified in trance she's never cheated on you...ever." Karen suddenly changed the serious mood. "But I don't think I need to suggest hypnotherapy for you. Lisa was quite complimentary about your oral sex skills." A belly laugh burst out of Lars, carrying with it a lot of nervous tension. "You're right," he said at last, "we are badly in need of that long talk. But I think we will be better than before." Lars shrugged sheepishly. "And I sure am tired of my own cooking!"