35 comments/ 20036 views/ 23 favorites Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 01 By: pjhale121 Author's Note: Chapter 1 has a little sex and a lot of dialog about what people are thinking and feeling. It is about a marriage in trouble because they have stupidly decided to listen to bad advice rather than talking to each other, even though they do love each other. Perhaps they can find a way to overcome their mistakes and forgive each other. Comments to let me know if you liked it or not are always welcome and coveted. All characters engaged in sex acts are over the age of 18. All rights reserved. -- "I put some of the leftovers into plastic containers so you can take one for a lunch if you want," Jon says, bopping the refrigerator closed with a hip. Sue is working at her laptop as she has been since they finished dinner, while Jon has been cleaning up. Her therapist, Mandy, had warned her about such evenings -- moments when her husband would just expect sex, expect her body to be available to him for his selfish pleasure. Men are so predictable, guided by the "little head" between their legs rather than the one atop their shoulders. His transparent attempt to be extra considerate of her needs at lunch tomorrow is an indication he is hoping for a little extra something from her tonight. She knows she can shut down that notion in a hurry. "That funny noise is back in the front tire on the van," she responds, still looking intently at her laptop, a remote session into one of the servers at work lighting her face in the partially darkened dining room. In truth, Sue is actually looking forward to a lengthy session of tender, attentive lovemaking. It is convenient that the kids are spending the night "camping out" in their neighbor Lynne's backyard, giving them a rare weekday night without the prying eyes and ears of two pre-teens. The opportunity for more "intimate time" than they would normally get is not to be missed. But his testosterone-driven gambit it is just too obvious. Of course he'll demand sex and women worked too long and too hard to achieve independence and control over their own bodies to fall back into the script of sex on demand when it is convenient for the male. "That just happened today?" Jon asks, annoyed. Life, or more accurately, their sex life, has become increasingly frustrating in the last couple of years. Somehow, sexual favors from his wife have to be "earned." It is becoming apparent that there is a reward system -- certain "good husband" actions earn certain pleasurable rewards. This all started years ago when she started seeing Mandy, the "marriage counselor. " They had some trouble getting back into a rhythm after Jordan was born -- when is the right time to start sex after a C-section? Jon had attended a few of these sessions early on but stopped going when it became obvious that Mandy didn't like men in general and everything (and I mean ev-ry-thing) was the guy's fault. The more Sue saw of Mandy, the more militant and demanding she had become in their relationship. "I know that you've been really good this week, keeping up with your half of the laundry and dishes, but the problem with the van isn't completely solved, even though you mistakenly thought it was. I'm not sure what we're going to do about this." Sue recognizes this really is a bit unfair; she is bringing up things he really has no control over but she is planning for a little bit of an upper hand tonight. When he is feeling a little guilty, he tends to be extra attentive. Some extra-long oral from him would feel really good. "We'll call the shop again tomorrow. Maybe this time, they'll be able to hear it, too," he says pointedly. It is obvious where this is going and he admits it is getting him pretty pissed off, although he tries his best not to show it. Good, she thinks. He is a little edgy and off balance. He doesn't know whether he's going to get any tonight or not. That's what Mandy says. Sex is a powerful tool in a relationship. A man will do anything to get it; you just need to know how to leverage that to get what you want from them. Women have all the control. The truth is that Jon is horny. It has been more than a week since they had sex. If it wasn't something about his chores, it was the kids staying up late or she was tired and stressed from work. Damn it! What does a man have to do around here to get laid! The real problem for the poor chap is that through it all, he loves her. He loves her independence. He loves her quirky smile and the way she handles their social calendar. He loves the way she brings her woman's intuition to the decisions they make and yet can still thoughtfully consider, discuss and understand a reasoned, logical argument. He loves the way she can sense the mood changes in the kids and knows when they are about to start a fight even before they know what it is they are going to argue about. But even more importantly, he likes that she brings out the best in him. Without her, he would have died a hermit in his dorm room at college. She brings out his good qualities in social settings and has always been by his side in his career choices. Together they weathered the storms of their early marriage, when both of their grandparents were suddenly losing their respective battles with cancer, Alzheimer's and chronic heart disease. Amidst it all, the kids were being born and they were trying to establish themselves as a family. The emotional rollercoaster had been hellacious. And in many ways, their life now is idyllic: they both have successful careers they are happy in; the kids, despite being seven and nine, with all the mind-numbing craziness that entails, are healthy, happy and seemingly well-adjusted; for most of their marriage, they genuinely like each other and spend more time doing things with each other than they do with anybody else. Yes, in many ways, Jon is still truly, deeply in love with his bride. But then there is this issue of sex. How did they get to this place where sex is a battleground? A power struggle over who is more indebted to the other? Who has more sexual need? Who has the upper hand and therefore the more "right" to their pleasure? "That's fine for next steps to solving the problem with the funny noise in the van but what are we going to do about you not really getting this task done. We agreed maintaining the cars is your responsibility," she continues to press her advantage. "Sue, cut the bullshit. What are you saying?" Generally, Jon avoids conflict -- arguments specifically -- but he is just horny enough, just angry enough, just edgy enough (as Mandy might say), to not give a damn about starting a fight, even if it means risking getting sex tonight. "I'm just saying that there are ramifications to failing to meet your end of the bargain." She can sense the seething in him, the ominous undercurrent in his voice. It is something she isn't very familiar with. There is a darkness there that is powerful, passionate, hypnotic. "Ramifications. Such as?" He is willing to ignore the fact that there was never any "bargain," just a demand she enforced, about him taking care of the cars (how reverse sexist is that?) and the fact that this task he supposedly failed at, was to fix a car that only she heard a "funny" noise in. If you can't demonstrate it to the mechanic, he can't fix it. No, he'll let those things go for the moment in order to get her to say explicitly what their relationship has come to. "Oh, I think you know," she brings out the coy smile, so manipulative. "Maybe there is a thing or two you could do for me tonight to make up for it." She gives him a seductive wink to seal the deal. "So, this is what we've come to? I owe you certain sexual favors because nobody but you hears some phantom noise in your car?" His frustration is making him rash -- bold, assertive, risky. There it is again; the dark dangerous side of him. She is getting to him, breaking through the nice, composed exterior and glimpsing the molten passion within. She knows she is playing with fire but like a moth drawn to the flame, she cannot help herself baiting him. "If you're going to take an attitude like that, maybe I don't feel like sex with you." "Maybe I don't care what you feel like and I'll just chase you down and take what I want." This is even more unfamiliar in her enlightened spouse. Chase her down? Take what he wants? How very typical brutish male. Can she get him to see how stereotypical Neanderthal testosterone led he is being? But at the same time she is shamed that the power in him, the dangerous passion lurking in his eyes, the very male-ness of his seething frustration is shamefully arousing to her. Would he really chase her down? Will he really unleash the beast and physically overpower her? Can she provoke him to the point of releasing the beast within? Can she handle the fire without getting burned? "If you can catch me, you can have whatever you want," she provokes him. Anticipating his charge around the countertop that separates the open concept kitchen from the adjoining dining room, she abandons her laptop and slips nimbly from her chair toward the stairs in the front foyer. He anticipated the move, however, and instead of directly charging toward her, he is already in motion back through the kitchen to cut off her escape upstairs where she could lock herself behind any number of doors. Heart racing, she skids to a stop and backtracks, circling back around the table as he charges back into the dining room from the foyer. She now has a clear path to the stairs by going through the kitchen with him behind her but it is a longer path. And he is faster. Damn male hunting instincts, she fumes. Even as she races through the kitchen doorway into the foyer, she knows he is too fast for her and has run her down. She screams as he catches her around the waist at the base of the stairs and they tumble together against the front door, panting and laughing and screaming. She has not felt this passion from him in years, the carefully scripted formula for caring, tender, considerate lovemaking has robbed them of the raw sexual energy of the chase, the capture, the victor and the vanquished. A piece of her internally mourns the loss. "Okay, okay, you've got me. You've got me," she pants in the crumpled heap the two of them make leaned against the front door. "I caught you. What does that mean? Say it," he demands of her. "You get whatever you want. I am yours. You caught me fair and square," she acquiesces, watching the passion in his eyes, feeling it in his ragged breathing. The pure adrenaline of the chase makes him strong and powerful in her eyes. She could fall in love with a man such as this. Did, years ago. "Let me up for a moment," she gasps after a second. "I need to close out that remote session at work and shut my laptop down. It'll only take a second." "Okay. But be quick about it. I have plans for you tonight," he grins at her. This is the playful Sue that he married, that he pledged his faithfulness to, for better or for worse. This is the woman he loves, not the cold, calculating, militant feminist who manipulates their intimacy to get her way. He climbs off her awkwardly and then offers her a hand to help her up, ever the gentleman. She gives him a shy kiss, a reward of affection for the victor from the vanquished and then steps gingerly back to the dining room towards the still glowing, still connected laptop. "Did I shut the garage when we came home?" he asks stepping back through the kitchen the other way. He enters the mud room, opens the door into the garage to discover he had not and presses the button to activate the overhead door. "Damn!" he growls, hearing the snap of her laptop lid and her running steps back toward the stairs. Even as he bolts back through the kitchen, he knows her head start is too great. She'll beat him to a locking door this time. It doesn't deter him from trying however, bellowing his frustration as he goes, taking the steps two at a time to close the substantial gap between them. Panic engulfs her as she scrambles down the short hall to the sanctuary of the guest bedroom, hearing his mad sprint through the house after her. There is something primal, instinctive and hot-blooded about the chase and sheer emotion washes over her. She glimpses his enraged, rushing form closing in on her through the rapidly slimming gap of the slamming door. Shit, that was close; he very nearly caught you even as far behind as he was, she pants. Fuck he is fast; that was so close. A heady mixture of triumph, relief and disappointment overwhelms her as she sinks to the floor, leaned against the locked door. Triumph at having tricked him; relief at having escaped and an unexpected twinge of disappointment at not having been caught and taught a lesson that at some point she wishes she would learn. What? Where did that come from? Panting, sweaty and completely overrun with conflicting feelings, she simply leans against the door trembling, trying to sort through her thoughts, feelings and emotions. "You admitted it! I caught you fair and square," he growls at the closed door. She is disappointed and a little angry to hear the whining in his voice. A piece of her did want to get caught but she wanted to be caught by the amazingly fast, charging hunter, not this pouty little boy. She needs a minute; she has got to sort through these thoughts and feelings before facing him. "I'm not very caught right now, am I?" she taunts him. "What a cheater! I didn't figure you for welching out." "Aw, don't be a sore loser. Maybe I'll be down in a bit and we can work something out." "Yeah, right," he scoffs, then the sound of him moving off. He's beaten, she gloats. I win. But it is a hollow victory. It leaves her empty inside and wanting more. She has come through this little tiff, still with the upper hand. She is still in control and he is hornier, edgier -- than ever. He is right where I want him, right? This is where Mandy said he would be -- a little man, controlled by his libido. It takes minutes for her heart to slow down. She finds herself pacing the small bedroom, neatly made up and homey, ready to accept an out-of-town, unexpected guest. A welcoming quilt neatly folded at the base of the immaculate bedspread, fluffed pillows ready to welcome. Her pent-up emotions from the chase are still raw on her. Her body is achy and tense and she feels like the slightest touch could launch her out of her skin. And to top it off, she is aroused. She can feel the slippery wetness of her arousal between her folds as she paces. And empty. Empty in the pit of her stomach, in the core of her being. A vision of that bed unmade, tossed about by a torrid, passionate coupling -- pillows flung around, mattress askew -- assails her imagination. That is the way this could have ended, she laments. But just as quickly, she scolds herself, What is wrong with me? I am a woman of the 21st century. I am not chased down by a Neanderthal, looking to thrust into any available prize he can capture. She needs to sort this out. She needs to understand what she feels. She needs to talk to Mandy. Or Lynne! Yeah, Lynne will understand. Lynne's tumultuous relationship and divorce from Chuck surely gave her the opportunity to consider such conundrums! If Sue had her phone, she'd text her right now. She abruptly quits her pacing and presses her ear to the door, listening for any signs of life on the other side. She hears something. A voice? But far away. She recognizes it -- the TV down below her in the family room. Sounds like a baseball game. Good God, how can he suffer through that drivel? And on this night! After very nearly catching her and having his way with her, he settles for that? I've got to go get my phone and talk with Lynne, she thinks. Silently, she opens the door and peers out into the hall. The coast is clear. No sign of her pursuer. The announcer's voice on the remote TV is slightly louder. She is thrilled to be safe. And let-down that he gave up the chase so easily. Certainly she is worth pursuing. But she did leave him with nothing to pursue but a blank, locked door. Silently, she takes a step into the hall. The adrenaline rush is back. She is out of her locked sanctuary -- again vulnerable, again at risk. Even though he isn't chasing her, even though he has abandoned the hunt for the mind numbing dullness of flickering images on a screen, the ages-old act of sneaking out of her safety zone into the unknown night brings the tension back. She is again alive, sexual, on edge. Four more silent steps bring her to the top of the stairs, the rest of the house is darkened and she can see the flickering blue reflection of the television even from up here. It is remarkable how far light carries in the otherwise dark house. She can't make out actual words from the announcer at this distance but from his tone, it is obviously a boring game in a sport of boring games. No cheering from the crowd, no thrill of excitement or tension in outcome of the next play. He even sounds bored of himself. She snickers at her mental image of her powerful hunter, who moments ago had run her down at the base of these very stairs, slinking back to his lair to nurse his wounds, the excitement of the chase giving way to the boredom of a tedious ballgame. That snicker is her undoing, a quiet sound in an otherwise silent upstairs. It reveals her position in the dark. Even before her mind registers the sound of a predator, her instincts launch her into a retreat to the sanctuary of her safe zone. And directly into the path of her pursuer, who has circled behind into one of the kid's rooms and now closes the distance on her with alarming quickness. She is rooted to her spot in frozen terror as he bears down on her. Her mind is completely blinded in panic. And then she is once again completely his. The once quiet house is full of screams of terror and shouts of victory as he scopes her up into his arms and throws her over a shoulder. It has been years since she has been fireman carried. Several strides later he is into the guest bedroom with his prize, kicking the door shut behind him to delay any further flight of his captured prey. He dumps her on the bed, his hands catching at the waist of her slacks, which he yanks painfully at her hips. Throughout this she has been too overcome, too chagrined at being so easily drawn from her safe haven and captured, too stunned by the powerful, physical exhibition her normally intellectual, considerate husband is showing. She yelps as the tight fabric fails to clear her hips and she starts to rise, only to be roughly pushed back onto the bright, welcoming, cheery bedspread. She is off balance for a moment but it is enough for him to pop the button on her slacks and wrench the fabric, causing the zipper to yield. "Jon!" she gasps, again surprised at his aggression, his physical presence. Another yank on the pants and they clear her hips, dragging her panties askew in the process. She reaches to catch the slacks at mid-thigh but he corrals her wrists and pushes her hands back up. The weight of his body is on her, holding her down, her hands above her head. They are face to face -- flushed, panting, hot -- both flush with their exertions and their need. It is the first time they are actually staring into each other's eyes since they got upstairs and they pause. "Did I catch you?" It is a quiet question, even though the passion of the fight still burns within him. She can still sense the anger in him, the frustration, the adrenaline of the chase and the testosterone of the victory -- it is all there underneath the surface, a roiling, passionate, brooding darkness that is fueled by his lust. But she knows him, knows her man. This is a true question and she understands that if she says the word, he will stand down. He won't force himself on her if she truly tells him "no." Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 01 "You caught me. I'm yours to do with as you will." She hasn't had time to sort her feelings out and she is still befuddled by her own thoughts on what has just occurred. It galls her independent, liberated woman image to the core that she must submit to his male dominance but at the same time, she is drawn to his potency and intensity. Intellectually, she cannot deny that he won the challenge and deserves the spoils but her self-image suffers to be considered "spoils of the conquest." Her body, on the other hand, sings out in victory for what it knows is coming. Her body yields; the fight goes out of her and any struggle stops. Her legs shift almost imperceptibly, just an outward turn of the knee, but it speaks loudly to her resignation -- a peace offering from the vanquished to the victor. His eyes search hers again, looking for confirmation. He won't ask again. "I'm yours," she reiterates. There is no need for foreplay; her body calls to him and surrenders to his supremacy. His ravenous desire for her consumes him. He finishes the job of stripping her of pants and panties in a single, vehement motion, pulling them to her ankles. There is no resistance in her; in fact, she accommodates him nearly to the point of collusion, lightly kicking the garments free of her feet. He towers over her, standing between her legs at the foot of the bed as he undresses, moving deliberately, without haste or fumbling but with a sense of power and determination. He stares hungrily at her body as she lays submissively before him, her thighs parted, her glistening sex exposed, ripe, ready for him. She admires his strength and the possessiveness and hunger in his stance. Without breaking eye contact, she sits up and removes her shirt and bra. Naked, he lays over her, possessive. And she receives him, acquiescent. He brings his raging, stiff manhood to her heated, engorged core; she spreads herself, accommodating. Aligning his hips, he directs the tip of his cock to her opening, the head tapping lightly in her wetness as it wavers; she rocks her hips in greeting, dancing with her suitor, kissing him with her juices. His hips press forward inflexibly, demanding, relentlessly against her. She shifts to capture him into her very being, neither of them using hands for direction. He is engulfed into the heat of her core. He drives into her, claiming her, taking her, owning her. She feels his supremacy as his manhood opens her, her thighs driven aside and her core pierced. Her legs wrap around his as she welcomes his intrusion. "Yours," she breathes into his mouth as his lips possess hers. The kiss is brief but passionate, ravenous tongues duel to devour one another and be devoured. It spreads to the rest of their bodies. Hands clutching at each other, cleaving them together, pressing the space between them out of existence until they merge into one. And then the real ravishing starts. His hips buck, driving into her. Owning, taking, seizing, overwhelming her. Her confused emotions about whether this is right or wrong, whether she wants it or not, whether she desires or abhors it are thrust aside, swept away in the intense, no-holds-barred sensations. Regardless of the consequences or the precedent it sets, this is sex as it should be -- primal, raw, unrestrained. They are connected, a mutual being striving toward a common goal of pure physical pleasure. The distinctions between prey and predator, hunter and hunted, conqueror and conquered are blurred. Who won and who lost? What seemed important moments ago is lost in the tidal wave of mutual need, desire and satisfaction. He fucks her with abandon and she fucks him right back. Each is heedless of the other's needs, striving only for their own, selfish release. Thrusting and pounding against one another without regard for the physical limits of their partner's body. They are grunting, rutting, plunging, sweating and moaning in a maniacal horizontal dance. Together, they rush headlong to the brink of the abyss and hurl themselves over, mindlessly screaming their passion against bruised lips and teeth-marked necks and shoulders. Stars explode behind closed eyes as both concentrate solely on the throbbing, pulsating seizure that grips their conjoined loins. They collapse together into a spent, sweaty, ravished heap and spiral for long minutes in the shuddering aftershocks. The earth seems to have moved; tilted on its axis. Or at least their worlds, the entire foundation of their lives, the relationship between them, feels like it has readjusted, realigned. Eventually, they return from their own individual nirvanas and become sentient beings once again. He discovers that he is completely covering her. "Mine," he breathes into her ear. "Mmm," she acknowledges. Oh, he has made that abundantly clear. Feminist ideals be damned; she loves this feeling, being owned. A moment of pure contentment under his possessive form and then she discovers that her breath is trapped out of her by his superincumbent weight. She shifts underneath him, trying to find some air and he rolls to the side, still holding her to his chest, his softening cock still buried deep within. She gratefully draws a deep breath and then moves again to get up. "Mine," he reiterates, arms clasping tighter, unwilling to give up this magical moment of connection with the love of his life. "We'll make a mess," she reasons. "Lie in it," he responds groggily. "We have to change the sheets anyway." There is something very naughty about the thought of wallowing there naked in the cute, cheery guest room, their cum leaking out of her ravaged body, and dripping lazily down her thigh. She sighs contentedly and snuggles against his chest, encircled by his protecting arms. Until another need intrudes. "I have to pee," she whispers. "Then piss the fucking bed," he hisses, clearly still in charge. "You're mine!" He fears letting her up will break the moment and return them to their adversarial lives. She is taken aback by his crudeness and the authority in his voice, but in her post orgasmic glow, finds that she doesn't mind being directed, guided. She loves him, always has, and likes feeling him in charge. She is a little uncomfortable but it is okay that way. She settles in to hold it. If he says she can, then she can and will. Small price to pay to be called his. They doze together for some time. Well, he dozes. Her mind races with thoughts -- thrills at the connection they just felt together, something that has been absent for a long time; marveling at the power in him, the virility; worry over how this new dynamic will play out in the rest of their lives; curiosity over the dark brooding beast she glimpsed within him; confusion about how his possession of her changes her own understanding of who she is as a women. These thoughts are interrupted occasionally by the amazing physical sensations coursing through her body: the electricity still racing around her nervous system; the warm, lethargy suffusing her arms and legs; the occasional throb in her clitoris; the taut pleasure of her nipple pressed tightly to his chest; the gentle sound of his rhythmic breathing; the naughty drips of their combined juices languidly flowing out of her and down her thigh; the stiffness in her muscles from the frantic passion they shared; the still intrusive pressure of his deflated cock gripped tightly within her. An indeterminate time later, he rouses, tilting his head back to look down into her eyes. He finds the love he feels for her reflected there. He props himself up, gaining a better vantage point to look at her body. He slowly and pointedly takes her all in. She is self-conscious under his stare but he is unmoved by that and continues his leisurely examination, smiling at the shy smile, appreciating her breasts, the inward curve to her waist, the trimmed fluff of her mound. As he shifts back, his flaccid member disengages and a small flood of their combined spendings gushes out and flows naughtily down her bottom onto the brightly patterned bedspread crumpled beneath her. He wipes his smeared cock against her thigh. "More?" She can't remember the last time he was up for more than one climax. She can't deny that hunger on his face as he gazes at her. -- The kids have just raced outside on this warm summer evening to meet up with the others in the neighborhood for yet another game of hide and go seek or tag or Frisbee or whatever strikes their fancy on this idyllic July evening. Jon had texted earlier that he would be late, to not hold dinner for him. So unlike him. And then to not respond to any of her texts back, her desperate pleas to talk, to allow her to explain. She knows this is bad; she dreads the coming argument, her guilt weighing heavily on her conscience. Dread fills her. What has Mandy done? What have I done? She hears the sound of his car in the garage, almost as if he was waiting just down the street until he saw the kids leave the house, not wanting the confrontation to occur in front of them. The empty pit in her stomach yawns even wider, threatens to swallow her whole. She pauses in the clean-up of the kid's dishes and moves to reheat the spaghetti noodles for him but she freezes in mid-step as the door to the garage swings open and he steps in. Her heart breaks and she dies a little inside. Her man, her husband of more than ten years is just a shell. There is no life in him, no spark, no fire. Not even anger or frustration or rage. If she had anticipated a shouting argument, tearful apologies, heated explanations of the bizarre events of this day, she apparently was wrong. His hands are empty. Typically, he would have brought in his laptop bag over his shoulder, but he appears to have left it in the car. His eyes are hollow and forlorn. He appears truly lost and entirely devoid of life. "Should I move out?" he asks flatly. Whatever she expected from him, this was not it. "What? No! Jon? Why would you say that?" "I would assume that you wouldn't want your children to live in the same house as a rapist." She stands with her mouth agape, stunned by his statement. This strikes him as particularly disingenuous; how could she think anything else? It was the logical conclusion to today's events; how could she be surprised? "Jon! You are not a rapist!" "Really? That's not what the police that called me today seemed to think. They were under the impression that you told them so, too." "Oh, no! I did NOT tell them so, Jon. It was Mandy. Oh, Jon, I am so sorry. Oh, this is the biggest fucking mess ever!" Tears are streaming down her cheeks now. She is beginning to see, to get just an inkling of how deep the hurt is. Another piece of her, larger, dies inside. "Uh, yeah, that is a bit of an understatement. What were you thinking, Susan?" "Oh, Jon, I don't know!" she wails. "I told Mandy about us. About the other night. About how you chased me and caught me and about how passionate you were." "About how I 'forced myself on you?'" "Well, yes. But I told her I liked it. I didn't want it at first but as it went on, I did. I was swept away by how strong and in control you were." "Sue, I honestly believed that the other night was one of the highlights of our marriage together. I felt a passion and connection with you that has been missing from our intimate times for years." "I did too," she squeaks out. "Well, I did until the fucking police call my cellphone!" "Oh, Jon! I am so, so sorry!" Sue is completely sobbing now, tears flowing unabated down her cheeks. Shame, guilt, remorse simply overwhelm her. "Mandy said she is a mandatory reporter. Whether I knew it or not, I had been raped and so she called the police to report what had happened." "Do you hear how crazy that sounds to me? You didn't know if you had been raped and she had to tell you so?" "I didn't know she was going to call the police when I told her about the other night!" "But you didn't tell the police differently when they called you later, did you?" "Yes, I did. I told them it was a misunderstanding, that Mandy had overreacted." "Apparently, they didn't believe that. They still called." "Mandy said this is what happens. Men can't control their urges and they force themselves on women to subjugate them. They just take what they want and convince us that we have no choice but to accept it." "Is that how you feel, Sue? Did I force you to do something you didn't want to do?" "I don't know, Jon! I'm so confused. I loved it. I loved being with you and I loved the passion in you, the hunger for me. But I am not supposed to like that. Women are beyond that in this day and age. That isn't the way it is supposed to be." Jon stares at her for a long time. "That's the crux of the problem for us, Sue. I love you and at one time I thought you loved me, but you are too fucking concerned about what fucking Mandy thinks you should want and don't want, what is right and proper. We had sex. I liked it. You liked it. I wanted it. You wanted it. But because it wasn't according to someone else's ideal of what sex in the 21st century is supposed to be like you're not sure if you should have liked it." "Women worked too long and too hard to get control of their sexuality..." "Damn straight they did! And there were even some men who bought into the idea of gender equality and tried to be of some help along the way. But dammit, you worked too long and too hard to get control of your sexuality to let some ball-busting dyke tell you what you should and shouldn't want from your own sexuality. Forgive me for saying so, Sue, but you have traded your reliance on men to tell you what you want for a reliance on some feminist's ideal of what you want. If I invalidated you by telling you your feelings about our lovemaking were 'wrong,' I would be a self-centered, chauvinistic pig. When Mandy does the same thing, telling you that your feelings about it are invalid because it doesn't match her vision of utopia, you drink the Kool-Aid and march along in step." "I do not always march right along in step. Sometimes Mandy is a little extreme and I don't always completely agree with her." "And you didn't think this was one of those times? When she was a little 'extreme'? You could have made her withdraw the report." "Mandy said the report had already been filed and I should keep it so that I have a record of it on file. If we ever split up, it would be important to have an official record." "So, she is advising you on how to prepare for divorce? She has spent years telling you how to control me by withholding sex and it is ruining our marriage and now she has you filing a rape report so that you have ammunition to get the kids when she tells you it is time to divorce me." "Jon! It is not like that!" "The hell it isn't! If it's not like that, then tell me how it is. Look me in the eye and tell me she hasn't been advising you to withhold sex unless I do certain chores around the house! Look me in the eye and tell me she hasn't told you to set up a separate bank account with Absolutely No Cost Checking dot com or whatever that frickin' outfit is so that you can begin to start slipping money away for you and the kids." Sue blanches visibly; she didn't know he knew about that. It seemed harmless at the time. "Sue, I have put up with Mandy's shit for years because I was petrified of losing you. I didn't want anyone to say I wasn't cooperating with our 'marriage counselor' but it has become painfully obvious that she is not marriage counseling but divorce counseling. She is advising you on how to get rid of me." Sue is stunned into silence, getting some insight into what Jon is challenging her to see. Women have been oppressed by men for eons, made dependent on them. Mandy has shown her how to break that dependency and prove that she is independent of the men in her life, prove that she doesn't need a man to make her happy. And to a large degree she has been successful at this. But at what cost? Proving Mandy's militant feminist agenda has not made their marriage any better. Mandy has been preparing her for a life independent of men, teaching her how to control men, not teaching her how to make her marriage better. "Look at me, Sue. We had some problems. We both thought our marriage could be better than it was and so we started going to talk to Mandy. Has her advice helped our marriage? Has anything she said ever brought us closer together? Are you really happier doing the things she has advised you to do than you were before? Sure we had some problems. Sure we had some things we needed to work on. And I admit some of those things were my fault and I've tried like hell to change for the better. But I can't live like this. It's one thing for us to battle one another over control of our sex life but it is another once that battle begins to spill over into the rest of our lives and affects our children." "What do you mean by that, Jon?" "What's going to happen tomorrow night, my dear?" Sue is puzzled. "Tomorrow night?" "Jordan's soccer game? I can't very well show up as an assistant coach as a registered sex offender, now can I?" Sue is horrified. Jon has always been deeply involved in the kid's lives; she has always been proud of their partnership in raising the kids together. "Jon! No, they wouldn't think... They are not going to... You're not on the registry until you're convicted." Jon shakes his head at her. "Sue, what would you do if you found out that one of Jordan's gymnastics coaches or a teacher was accused of rape? That a bona fide report of sexual assault had been filed? Would you send her to practice or to school while waiting for the incident to wind its way through the courts? Hell no! I wouldn't. I'd ask the perpetrator -- excuse me, alleged perpetrator -- to step aside for a few days until we got a little bit more information." "Oh, Jon! What are we going to do?" Sue is finally starting to realize how far astray she has been led. He's right; she hasn't really thought this through. "So, I guess I'm back to my original question. Do you want me to pack up and move out?" "No, Jon. No. I love you. I've always loved you. I want you to stay." "Okay. Well, that's at least somewhat encouraging. I'm glad to hear you say that. If our marriage is going to survive, we're going to make some changes." "I'll call the police back right now and tell them there was a big misunderstanding," she tearfully says, reaching for her cellphone. "No! Not right now, please," he catches her before she dials. In response to her quizzical expression, he explains, "They already have this idea that I coerced you into something you didn't want to do. The last thing I want is you calling up and tearfully, emotionally recanting five minutes after I arrive home. We'll have a patrol car here in minutes convinced I've battered you into a retraction." She nods in understanding. "I'll pack a bag and spend a night at a hotel. Cool off, think about it, pull yourself together and in the morning go down to the police station and calmly, rationally explain that Mandy was wrong and you never intended to file a rape report." "Honey, you shouldn't have to spend the night in a cold, unfriendly hotel!" "I don't think I can spend the night here, truthfully. I've got a few anger issues to work out. I've got to do some thinking for myself about where this is going. And I know you'll need to talk to someone. If I can ask a favor, please don't go to Mandy about this? Pick another friend, anyone -- your sister, your mom, Lynne, anyone -- and talk through your feelings. I know you've got to and it can't be me and it can't be Mandy. Or I don't think we'll have a marriage left to save." Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 01 And with that he went upstairs and grabbed a set of work clothes for the next day, found his kids playing out in the neighbor's yard and explained how mommy and daddy had had a misunderstanding, that he had to go work late out of town like he did some nights and that he would be back in a few days. -- After he was gone, Sue called Lynne and asked for a shoulder to cry on. The kids played themselves to exhaustion outside, running and shrieking and laughing until the street lights came on and the mosquitos found them. After they were in bed, the friends meet up on Lynn's back deck. Sue explains the whole, sordid mess, starting with her desire to help an old college friend, Mandy, in her fledgling counseling business and explaining their ties back to their days of political activism and women's rights. Mandy had always been more militant than most (okay, all) of their friends and had only become more extreme in the intervening years. After Sue finishes with the story of the rape accusation and Jon moving out, Lynne asks simply, "Do you still love him?" "Despite it all, I really do, Lynne," Sue frowns. "It was one thing to talk with Mandy about setting up a bank account to protect myself and quite another to watch him walk out tonight with a suitcase in his hand. I love him and I want him in my life and the kid's lives. The only problem has been about sex." "Sex I can offer advice about; I'm not so sure about marriage in general. I mean, I couldn't hold my marriage together. I loved Chuck, too, except when he drank." "Thank God Jon and I aren't afflicted with that. But the sex was good?" "Oh, my heaven's -- the sex was fantastic. There was never any doubt about what he wanted and that was me. I was his and his alone and we were like chips and salsa -- hot, spicy and made for each other! And then that damn bottle stole him from me. Alcohol made him a different person -- abusive, womanizer, unemployable. For my own safety, sanity and the sake of Ashley and Charlie we left and I moved back home. And I am so glad I found a place right around the corner from my dearest high school friend. But the truth is, as much as I'd like to help... I'm not much of a marriage counselor. Great sex wasn't enough to hold my marriage together." "Shit, Lynne, I've been listening to a 'marriage counselor' who has all but completely destroyed my marriage. I could use some solid advice from someone who at least likes men and knows how to have great sex with them. Jon and I used to have a great relationship and great sex. Somehow, I got caught up in trying to make him a better person, though, and ruined the sex." "So what was great about the sex early in your marriage?" "Oh, I don't know. There was passion; there was fire. He knew what he wanted and he went for it. Jon was a little older than me in college and more experienced. I let him teach me about things." "So, what happened?" "After the kids were born, sex got, I don't know, boring. I mean, he lost that confidence, that 'take charge' attitude. It was like he didn't know how to make love to me anymore. At first, he was so hesitant -- like he was afraid of hurting me. And then it was just different -- like making love to the mother of his children was different than screwing around with his wife. I mean, he is a compassionate, gentle and caring lover. But..." she shrugs. "Is it wrong for me to just want, every now and then, for him to be a man and just do it, you know?" "Personally, I don't think that's wrong. I liked it when Chuck would be a little demanding sometimes. Do you think you might have been pushing him to see how far he would go before he did just that?" "Maybe..." Sue is thoughtful for a moment. "Don't get me wrong, I love him being tender with me. I love the way he takes care of me and makes me feel special. It has been good that way; Mandy was right at least that far but... the other night... I don't know. When he came at me like that? I realized what I've been missing. Sex has been too nice, too proper." "Is that how you feel about your sex life? It is 'nice' and 'proper'?" "It sounds so wrong when you say it like that, but yeah," Sue concedes. "I thought that's what I wanted -- for him to adore me and give me pleasure. And he does. And most times I like that but sometimes... I want more." "You want not just his tender side but his passion, too. Without having to say it, you want him to want you that much, like it was when you were first married." "Lynne, you may be on to something. I guess I really didn't see it but I wanted him to just want me bad enough that the passion would come out. That was what was so fantastic about the other night. It was like I pushed enough of the right buttons that he finally cared enough to let his emotions run away with him. There was like this feral beast inside him that just broke out and pounced. I couldn't have stopped him if I tried." "That's it. You've pushed him now to express the passion and he has. Now build him back up; give him whatever he wants, whenever he wants it." "Lynne! You can't be serious. Mandy says..." "Look, all I know is that the best sex that Chuck and I ever had was when I let him push me into stuff that I thought was crazy, sick and perverted. I never would have done some of the things he suggested. Except that he suggested it and he really wanted to try it. And I accepted it because I was his wife and I loved him. And it was freaking fantastic, Sue! He was demanding and rude and outrageous and I have never felt so connected or loved or cherished as when we did some of those things." "But what about your dignity?" "Screw dignity! Sex is not dignified. Not if you're doing it right at least. I'd rather have a great 'O' any day than finish the night dignified. Oh, sure there were some things that he wanted to try that I wasn't having any part of but I just said it wasn't for me and that we should try something else that we can both enjoy. Making him feel like he is a creep for suggesting it is a really quick way to shut down communication between the two of you." "So, what do you think I need to do?" "I think you already know what you need to do. Stop settling for 'nice and proper' sex and let him be a man sometimes. Maybe not all the time but sometimes. Win back his trust. Sit down with him, apologize for how you've treated him and tell him that you want him to take charge of your sex life like he did when you were first married. Show him that even though you can be independent of him, you are choosing to be dependent as an act of love. " Although it went against everything that Sue had been espousing for years, she knew that Lynne was right. Whether the "world" thought it was right or not, didn't matter. What did matter was what she wanted and what Jon wanted and that was to be together. -- The next morning, Sue went and squared the police, insisting that she did not want to press any charges, that there was never any rape incident and that Mandy was simply wrong when she filed the report. Then she called her husband and invited him home for dinner. After another day or two, he moved back home, although he took to sleeping in the guest bedroom rather than their bedroom. It just seemed prudent. As always, the majority of their lives were fine. They parented the kids together. They went to their jobs and pursued successful careers. Sex? Not so much. A couple big changes did happen, though. Sue told Mandy that she was way out of line with the rape report and that she wouldn't be coming back for any more counseling sessions. And she admitted to Jon that she might have taken the "men are all pigs that objectify women" message too far. She no longer wanted to put conditions on their sex life and she promised to be more open to his sexual advances. Jon was skeptical. This had the feeling of a trap, something to get him to let down his guard and do something stupid that could be turned against him. But as the days wore on and Sue's tune didn't change, he began to see a glimmer of hope that she had had a true change of heart. One evening, after the kids were in bed, Sue reiterated her commitment to him and their marriage, showed him the statement closing her "private" bank account and told him yet again of her love and desire to please him without conditions or "payments" from him. "You just want me to take what I want?" "Yes. Lynne helped me realize I've been putting too many conditions on our intimate times and made you focus on my pleasure. I want you to just focus on you." "I'd like to feel like I can trust you. I hear what you are saying and want to believe you. I just don't know how to take that step and trust again, that I can be free to express exactly what I want physically." "What can I do to prove it to you? To start building that trust? What if I give you a day of physical pleasure just for you?" "Without having to 'earn it'?" "No strings attached. You've given me plenty of oral sex as of late (and I really, really liked that!) and now it is your turn; tomorrow, I'll give you as much oral sex as you want." Jon smiles at her. It sounds great; he wishes he could believe it. "Okay, right. We'll see." Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 02 Author's Note: You know that reading Chapter 1 will give you more background and help you understand this story better, don't you? I tend to spend too much time on people's thoughts and motivations. Some people call this character development; some people call it boring. You were warned. All characters engaged in sex acts are over the age of 18. All rights reserved. -- It is still dark in the room as Jon comes slowly awake, aware that someone else is in the room with him. Through slitted eyes he recognizes his wife, standing next to the double bed he is sleeping in. She has drawn the sheet that is his only covers back gently from his torso, exposing his naked hip as he slept on his side. This is what woke him, though he hasn't let on that he is conscious yet. She pauses, waiting to see if he is awake. What is she up to now? he wonders and regulates his breathing to a steady, even rhythm. He still is still confused about what she wants from him, from their marriage. Hell, he is confused about what HE wants from their marriage. Despite the arguments that they have had over the last couple of years and the relationship strains around their sex life, the reality is that he still does love her and he wants to find a way to work on their marriage together. The ridiculous rape accusation that Sue's marriage counselor, Mandy, put in with the police has rocked their world, however. At least the event seems to have jarred Sue into realizing just how extreme Mandy's views are and just how much following Mandy's advice has damaged their relationship. Sue SEEMS to be making true attempts to draw him into a conversation about their problems and making conciliatory overtures as it relates to their sex life. Maybe their relationship has been damaged, but maybe it isn't totally beyond hope. It will have to be different, certainly, but that doesn't mean that it can't still be good. Okay, he thinks. If she wants to try to make this better through better sex, let's see where this leads. Satisfied that he is actually still asleep, she crouches onto the edge of the guest room's double bed and bends down toward his exposed hip. He has always slept nude, even back in college. Her face is only a few feet from his groin, his limp, sleepy prick dangling from the profusion of wiry curls. She stifles a giggle as she considers its almost comical impotence in its flaccid state juxtaposed in her mind with the virile throbbing tower of masculinity she so recently enjoyed in this very room. He gives off a male scent that stirs something within her -- a smell that is not pleasant in any traditional sense, but is arousing all the same. It is the smell of unwashed bodies, of work and sweat and, well, "man." It is a smell that, in polite company, a woman would insist be washed clear and replaced with more attractive cologne before a dignified evening out. But here in the quiet tranquility of the pre-dawn stillness, it touches her inner femininity -- the smell of her man. What is she up to? he wonders again, Is she staring at my cock? Understanding that she has precious little time before he wakes and she has to face the difficult process of explaining herself, she leans forward and gently wraps her lips lightly around the flaccid head of his member. What the?! Jon is stunned. She is going to suck my dick! She rarely takes him in her mouth; it is too "demeaning." She breathes him in, drawing his manhood between her lips and caressing the soft head with her tongue. The tender flesh fills her mouth pleasantly and she snuggles closer to his crotch, nuzzling her nose lightly into his pubic hair. Why don't I do this more often? she asks herself, enjoying the oral sensations of his meat in her mouth. My man's cock tastes good! She relishes in the naughty thought, the betrayal of everything that Mandy and she have discussed over the last few years -- thinking of herself as owing this pleasure to her husband, her responsibility , her duty as his wife. But in her recent heart-to-heart discussion with Lynne, her friend had made so abundantly clear how much she owes her husband, how much she truly can enjoy with him, being his wife and deferring to his needs, how that doesn't really diminish who she is as a woman, despite what her militant feminist counselor may espouse. She got them into this mess by withholding sex until he met certain conditions, perhaps she can get them started back on the right track by making sex completely unconditional for him. And she feels him stir in his sleep, his body responding to her, enjoying the sensations she is giving him. Mmm, she hums quietly, reveling in the taste of him, the maleness of him, her ability to please him whether he is conscious of it or not. Screw Mandy and her need to control and dominate all men! I like giving this pleasure to him. I like sucking cock. I like sucking his cock. Being his cocksucker. I wonder if I can make him cum before he wakes up. Lynne says I have to swallow, that part of being the subservient wife that all men want is for me to suck him off and swallow his cum. Sue has never really developed a taste for cum, finding it really pretty gross, actually, but she is determined now to make it right. She feels guilty for the way she has treated Jon and their sex life and is determined to make it up to him. If that means learning to swallow cum, then she is committed to doing it. Millions of other women have learned to do it and I can too, she tells herself. Shit, that feels great, Jon marvels. Maybe she really is serious about this desire to fix our sex life. Wouldn't that be fantastic? I just hope it isn't another one of the ballbusting tricks that Mandy has put her up to. His cock is starting to swell in her mouth, the warm, wet confines engulfing his sensitive, drowsy member having the inevitable and fully expected response. The oh-so-intimate connection pleasing them both. Sue finds it remarkably arousing to feel the swelling as he fills her mouth. She even senses the tension in his muscles as his hips move almost imperceptibly, a little micro-thrust involuntarily twitching his pelvis forward. "Oh, babe, that feels sooo good," he moans aloud, letting her know he is awake and appreciating her actions. She sucks a little harder, no longer fearing that too much sensation may wake him, and draws back along his length, slurping . Lynne had encouraged her to make this blow job sloppy and somewhat slutty, assuring her that Jon will really appreciate this. She deliberately lets a little drool roll down his shaft, which is considerably longer than when she started this exercise moments ago. "What's gotten into you that I get this nice kind of wake up call?" he asks breathlessly, giving her free rein of his private parts. "Told you last night," she mumbles around his growing phallus, enjoying being dirty for him, not really releasing her connection with his manhood. "Lynne says I've been unfair to you, denied you the pleasure you rightly deserve as my husband. I'm going to make it up to you by pleasing you whenever I can." She presses her mouth back onto his shaft, feeling it fill her mouth now and press against the back of her throat. She delights in her ability to give him a hard-on like this, his erection springing to life with virility she enjoys. The freedom to explore her naughty, subservient side is erotic and touches a deep need in her to relate to her mate in this way. "I'm not sure what that means." Jon is skeptical, reluctant to believe this dream has become a reality. She lets more drool escape as she glides her lips and tongue back along his length. She enjoys the way it glistens and he does, too. She can see it as she looks past his growing pole and up into his eyes -- those hungry, needful, lustful eyes. Again, the predator lurks behind those eyes, wanting to take her, wanting to unleash himself and ravish her. The hunter that she has, for years, denied -- sought to control and contain because to let it out was to relinquish her independence, her identity, her self-determination. At what cost, though? she wonders. The key here is getting over her aversion to the idea that he deserves pleasure as her husband. This is the idea that she has fought so long with Mandy. Once able to swallow that, she is able to swallow him. "Lay back and let me please you," she purrs. "This is all about you, all about you enjoying me sucking on your cock." Without breaking eye contact, while watching the wonder and enjoyment and pleasure in his eyes, she engulfs his manhood again in her wet, inviting mouth, taking as much of him as she can, pushing herself when the head reaches the back of her throat. She wants to prove to him how good she is, how sincere she is, how dedicated to his pleasure she is. "Oh, I'm enjoying all right. But what about you?" "My period started last night. I don't want you to touch me. Just let me do this for you. Let me be your cocksucker. Let me just focus on you." She draws back again, determined to be even messier, to slobber even more over his now throbbing prick. Let him see just how slutty I can be for him. This is new, Jon realizes. Sue really does seem to be committed to this new relationship. Last night, she was saying all the right words about remorse over the rape accusation, but even more she seemed to genuinely regret her role in their strained sexual relationship over the last couple of years. Mandy's excessive action, reporting Jon to the cops, seems to have awakened Sue to just how radical Mandy's idealism is. And Sue's renewed relationship with her childhood friend Lynne, seems to be reaping bounteous rewards for him. Wary from years of sparring with her philosophically over their sex life, he nevertheless decides to lay back and let her proceed. Maybe it is a trap; maybe it is for real. Regardless, he is getting a great blow job; enjoy that while you can! He settles back in the bed, propped up with pillows where he can watch the action and spreads his legs in invitation for her to continue. She climbs aboard the bed and somewhat self-consciously positions herself between his legs. It is one thing to initiate this incident on him in his sleep and another to submit to it under his critical gaze. It feels like she is admitting she has been wrong, which is very hard to do. But in the interest of being happy, rather than right, she deliberately clamps down on her instinctive reluctance and with a conscious effort, determines to follow it through. His cock is erect and throbbing, a symbol of masculinity and power framed by his open thighs. She knows what she has committed to, what she has agreed is her role. She kneels on the bed, lowers her head and reverently licks the length of his tumescent phallus. "Nice," he purrs, encouraging. Emboldened by her success and desiring to go "all in", she ducks her head down even further and extends her tongue to lap gently at his balls. He rocks his hips up, making them more accessible. It is both a courtesy to make it a little easier for her and a demand for more. She embraces the challenge willingly, licking his heavy testicles with slutty abandon. Psychologically, it is another step in her submission to him, a fact that registers plainly with both of them. It forms another intimate connection that they wordlessly share. With her face pressed deeply into his crotch, Sue is again assailed by the earthy, all-male smell of his groin. She uses it to fuel her own desire to embrace his masculinity and to submit to it. "Take off your shirt," he requests. And then to her raised eyebrow, he shrugs. "I want to see your tits." Some nerve! the thought flashes into her brain before she can stop it. You're just a set of boobs to him, the script plays out in her head in Mandy's voice. Immediately on its heels, however, is Lynne's voice, He wants to see your boobs. He is panting for you. He wants you. His heart is beating fast for you. His eyes want to see more of you. She even gives him a lascivious smile as she sits up and peels her night shirt over her head. Her chest is bare underneath and she proudly models her nipples pointing back at him. It is perversely gratifying to put her arousal on display for him, to show him her erotic need in the arch of her back and the presentation of her up-thrust chest, having already set the stage that that need will go unfulfilled today, that the only satisfaction to be had today will be his. "Thank you," he smiles at her, pleased with her and her commitment to her newly stated goal of pleasing him. "No," she replies, grateful that he is accepting this; she can feel his reluctance. "Thank you for giving me another chance. For letting me make up to you for how wrong I've been and for almost ruining our marriage." He scans her face and expression for any sign of irony, any indication of trickery or falseness. He can find no shred of evidence to indicate any lack of complete sincerity. He loves her more for admitting her part in their strained relationship. "Now, where was I?" she purrs. "Oh, yeah. I was just about to suck that gigantic cock of yours and make you cum for the first of many times today." Okay, there is the trace of untruth he had been looking for. He is well aware that nobody but his loving wife is ever going to call his cock "gigantic." He's not embarrassed by his size -- he isn't tiny -- but closer to "solidly average" than "gigantic". They both giggle at her deceit, sharing a conspiratorial smile but she isn't going to back down from her statement as she leans forward, freed breasts dangling down towards the bed, and stretches her lips obscenely wide to engulf the tumescent head. Pure pleasure suffuses his loins and love swells in his chest. He has always loved her like this, why has their physical relationship taken such a long and difficult road to catch up to their hearts? She finds that far from feeling cheated, minimized or degraded by this act, she feels desired and treasured. Sex doesn't have to be a battle for equality between genders but a joyous giving of oneself for another. She knew this once; when did she unlearn it? Sue proceeds to pour her love and adoration for her husband out on his rigid pole, using all of her creativity and the expressive nature of lips and tongue. Her worship is not wasted and within moments, Jon's throbbing cock spirals up in glorious pleasure. He watches her bob and lick and suck and bathe him in slobbery wetness. He knows he won't last long under the loving assault and tries to slow her down to prolong this magical moment. "Honey, if you don't slow down, I'm gonna come real soon," he pants out, the tension apparent in his husky voice. "Um-hm," she nods, redoubling her efforts in obvious attempt to bring that about. "You usually don't want..." he begins "Give it to me," she pants smearing his wet glistening cock lewdly against her cheek and chin, really into her role now. "Cum for me, baby. Shoot for me. However you want it. Wherever you want it. Give it to me." One of her hands is jacking the base of his cock, the other jiggles his balls. Her wet lips and tongue nip and lick and suck as she bobs quickly up and down on the sensitive head, the tip never far from her drooling lips and always pointed at her face and open mouth. It is way too much for poor Jon's self-control. Never has he seen his independent, self-sufficient, professional wife play the total slut to such perfection. She is sucking, jerking him off and begging for his cum. There is zero chance for him to prolong this one. Vainly, he tries to warn her one last time. "I'm.... Going.... To... Cuuuum...." he cries out as the crisis overtakes him. True to his word, his sperm rockets up his throbbing manhood and explodes into jet after jet of steamy white jism. And true to her word, she laps greedily at the spewing tip, milky ropes splashing hotly against her tongue and cheeks. Some splashes back down his pole, lubricating her hands as she continues to massage him and some she swallows, surprised that it tastes so much better than she remembers it. After three or four massive throbs, she clamps down and holds the base of his cock tightly in her fist and puts a lip lock around the head, sucking hard to draw out any additional moisture left in the hose. Her selfless devotion to him making her feel more tender-hearted toward him. "Arrrrgh," he groans as stars spin in front of his clenched eyes and his entire being throbs in her hands and lips. She rejoices in his pleasure, marveling at her ability to give him such joy, loving him, delighting in the special intimate connection he is sharing with her. He lovingly caresses her hair as she lays quietly in his lap, licking his cum from her fingers and feeling the shudders of orgasmic aftershocks shake through him. At this moment, admitting she was wrong in the past seems a small price to pay for the joy of this experience with her husband, her love. "Wow," he breathes after a few moments of recovery. "That was fantastic. Very nice way to wake up in the morning. Thank you." "You're most welcome, kind sir," she answers, her head still in his lap, his limp cock still just inches from her face. "So, what inspired this treat from you?" "I told you last night. I am very sorry for the way I have behaved with regards to our sex life. I have been selfish and I've damaged our marriage. I want to make it up to you by doing things completely for your pleasure." "Like waking me up with a blow job?" "Yes and like being available to you for sex whenever you want. I want this to just be the first of many blow jobs I give you today." "You realize that your 'marriage counselor' is not going to approve of this." "I see what you were saying the other day. Following Mandy's advice has nearly ruined our marriage. Worse, it has made you reluctant to tell me what you want because she has taught me to use that against you. I'm sorry and I want to regain your trust that I will respond to your sexual advances more positively." He chuckles and lifts her chin so that he can speak to her face, rather than the top of her head. "I'm afraid that clinically correct speech sounds a little rehearsed, my dear." She immediately begins to tear up, looking him in the eyes. "It is hard. I have been rehearsing that speech because I wanted to get it right." "It's okay, hon," he draws her up and enfolds her in his arms, chagrined that he has hurt her. "I hadn't thought of that. Of course, you're right. I'm sure this is hard for you." "Mm-hm," she nods against his chest. "It is such a reversal of what you've espoused over the last few years. I was worried that you were just repeating someone else's speech. I'm sorry. I hadn't considered how hard this must be for you. Forgive me? This is a little new for me, too. Maybe I'm a little gun-shy." She snickers even through her tears. "Well, maybe we have to re-teach you how to 'shoot' that gun." He laughs back with her, glad to again be flirting with his bride. It has been too long. "Let's consider lesson one complete, then. How did I do, teacher?" "Okay, I suppose," she teases. "But you could do better. You were a little passive." "What? You came in and approached me in my sleep! How am I supposed to be less passive?" "It felt like you were holding back. Like you wanted to move but restrained yourself." "I try to hold back because I don't want to be too demanding. I'm afraid I'll choke you if I thrust like I want to." "It's okay. You can be a little more assertive. Lynne says it really isn't 'face-fucking' if you don't gag at least a little bit." Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 02 I'm beginning to like the words "Lynne says" as much as I used to dread the words "Mandy says," he thinks. Out loud , though, he expresses his surprise at her statement, "I didn't know we were after face-fucking." He is stunned not only that she is expressing a desire for more aggressive oral sex but that she would ever imply that she wanted to be 'face-fucked', let alone actually use the word. The change in his wife is even more dramatic than he had understood. Sue blushes lightly, perhaps surprised by her own vulgarity but equally pleased at shocking him. Maybe now he'll understand that I'm serious about pleasing him. "Well, maybe not the first time, but at least by the end of the day." "You were serious about this 'blow-jobs throughout the day' thing?" "Absolutely. My mouth is available for your use whenever you want it today." Jon stares at her in open mouth surprise. "But lots of times you've said that sucking dick is demeaning and a modern woman isn't expected to do it." "I've reconsidered, sir. Now, c'mon let's get you in the shower and get cleaned up." True to her word, she leads him gently to the shower off their master bedroom and thoughtfully and respectfully washes him. Jon can't remember the last time they showered together, although that had been blissfully common early in their marriage. And he is impressed that she appears sincere in her desire to do this for him, apparently not expecting him to return the favor. He does, of course. The chance to run slippery, soapy hands across her naked body is an opportunity not to be missed. She denies him nothing, acquiescing plainly to his desires, even pushing her breasts out for his prolonged and careful scrubbing and thrusting her butt back in invitation to let him enjoy cleaning her. "Do you want me to shave?" "Huh?" "My pubic hair. Lynne says that men really like bald pussies." There is that phrase again... "Lynne says," he smiles to himself. "Yes, my dear, I would like that. There is something very beautiful and clean about a shaved mound." "It makes me feel even more naked in front of you. Exposed. But if you want me to do it, I will." -- By the time they are both rinsed, his rejuvenated cock is sticking out blatantly. "Do you want me to take care of this, sir? Remember, no limit on BJ's today." He smiles at her again, marveling at this change in attitude. "I'd like that," he admits, still somewhat bewildered and concerned that this is some sort of trap that is going to snap shut on him somehow but loving how committed she is to his pleasure, at least in the moment. She immediately drops to her knees underneath the warm spray of the shower and engulfs his tumescent manhood. She lavishes him and makes every appearance that she adores what she is doing. He lets her please him, staying still while she provides the pleasure. After a few minutes, though, she gently takes his hands and places them on the back of her head and then reaches around and grips his ass with both her hands, pulling him forward to thrust his cock farther into her throat. She wants him to be the man; show the passion she has seen in him far too rarely as of late. To Jon, this feels disturbingly like forcing himself on her, and past experience indicates that he shouldn't do that. But, damn, it feels good. And so, with her recent assurances that she is serious and wants him to take a more demanding role in their sex life, he presses forward cautiously. At the first sign of her gagging, he backs off, only to be halted by her firm hands clenching his ass cheeks, pressing him forward. She deliberately holds him firmly pressed against her face, even as her throat contracts around him convulsively. He is stunned, not only by her actions but by how surprisingly good her clenching throat feels on the sensitive head of his prick. It violates his inherent urge to protect her, to care for her and it just feels wrong to so selfishly take such rude advantage of her. But, oh, it feels so good! His emotions are in turmoil -- lust and regret collide. After a few moments of unusual discomfort for her and pure hedonistic pleasure for him, she allows him to back off. She gags and chokes and sputters as he looks on with fear that he has pushed too far. She gulps air and suppresses the urge to throw up. "Sue?" he questions as she smiles wanly at him before she plunges her mouth back onto his raging phallus. "Are you sure you want..." "Mmphl," she nods around his cock in her mouth, surprised a bit that this is true. Although it is uncomfortable and demeaning and even a little difficult, she does want it in some perverse way. It is a conundrum that she knows she will have to talk out later with Lynne, but she somehow likes the idea of making herself a little uncomfortable, maybe even a lot uncomfortable, just to please her man, just because she knows that it makes him feel good. It is in deferring to his pleasure that she finds her own pleasure. For his part, Jon is a little surprised that he is enjoying forcing himself on her like this. His whole life he has been taught to respect and admire women, to treat them kindly and esteem them. Even more so, he loves his wife and has never wanted to hurt her or cause her any discomfort. Maybe that is what made the whole dueling over sex so plausible -- he really values her and would rather defer to her than make her unhappy. So the idea that he is cramming his cock down her throat, making her choke and gag is somewhat abhorrent. However, it also makes him feel powerful and dominant and masculine. And more to the point, the sensations on his cock are just fantastic. Suddenly the idea of making her a little uncomfortable just for his selfish pleasure is not so farfetched. "Uhn! Yeah, baby. Like that. Breathe easy. You can take it." He encourages, aware of how patronizing it sounds, but pleased that she seems to willingly accept it from him. She stretches her mouth wide open and pulls his ass forward until his cock makes a loud "gack" sound against the back of her throat. Gosh, I am being such a slutty whore, she marvels at herself and at the stunned look on her husband's face. But it doesn't stop her. "Gack. Gack. Gack. Gack." Jon finally gets the point and understands his role in this charade. He grips her wet hair and steadies her as he sets up his own steady rhythm. If she is serious about getting face-fucked, then she's going to get it, he exalts, letting his lust take over. His hips establish their own rhythm and he makes outrageous demands on her gag reflex as he pursues his pleasure. Oh, my gosh, he's doing it! The bastard is fucking me in the mouth! But even as this thought shocks and offends her, it opens a new avenue of intimacy for her. She is proud of him for accepting her challenge and for releasing his control. She can feel the passion and desire in him and she adores him for it. So here again, is another paradox to sort out later -- she admires a powerful man who selfishly takes what he wants, even if that taking is from her. Thinking of him as a "selfish bastard" makes her love him more; how can this be? She has never thought of "selfish bastard" as a term of endearment. Normally, Jon would not allow himself to enjoy this moment. He would be worried about too many things -- was she satisfied? Was he coming too soon? If he were to come now, would he be too tapped out to enjoy something else later? But today, she seems to have assuaged all those distractions even before they occur to him. She has given him permission -- no, even more, has insisted -- that he focus on himself and hold back nothing. And so, he heedlessly gives himself over to his own selfish pleasure. When he feels like cumming, he does. Not in her mouth this time, although that is certainly and obviously available to him but he draws back to create a little space in between them and jacks himself off onto her breasts, neck and face. Before today this would have been seen as an insulting act that disgustingly showed his piggish, man side. Today, she seems to revel in letting him use her this way and she is even intrigued to watch his cum spurt from his raging cock. She has always liked the spectacle of a man ejaculating and the close up view she gets of him doing so almost fun. As his climax winds down to creamy dribbles, she actually takes his deflating cock in her mouth and sucks the last bit off. She does this as a sign of respect and also to confirm her earlier assessment that his cum doesn't taste nearly as bad as she used to think it was. Maybe over the years it has gotten better. Or maybe her outlook is better and that translates into her not finding it so offensive. Once he is done, she stands up in the shower and easily rinses the load from her face, neck and chest. He slips out of the shower and begins toweling off. "Thank you for giving me permission to enjoy that," he comments through the shower curtain as she finishes her rinse. "It is really weird but I enjoyed being your slut," she admits, shutting the water off and drawing the curtain back. He openly stares at her body, the last of the shower cascading off the peaks of her breasts. "I was 'assertive' enough for you this time?" he grins. "You were that," she smiles back. "But not too demanding, I hope," he still is concerned about this dramatic change in her desires. "No, that's what I asked you to do." "You do understand why I'm a little confused," he says cautiously, concerned about starting an argument that might disrupt the positive direction that things are going but also committed to free and open communication. "We've spent so much time talking about how I, as a man, should suppress my baser desires to objectify you." "I am a little confused myself," she admits. "I know I'm not supposed to, but I kind of liked you taking control and driving for your own pleasure. It was classic male selfish behavior that I shouldn't tolerate but I kind of like you being clearly male, clearly in charge." "Thanks for being honest about it, honey. These are bewildering feelings we are both having and I'm glad we can talk about it without feeling like I have to guard everything I say. If we're both trying to figure it out, then it seems like we're on the same side, battling it together rather than battling each other." He holds out a towel and she steps out, taking it from him and drying her face and hair before relinquishing it back to him so that he can dry her back. It makes her feel cared for. He reaches lower and dries the fleshy curves of her backside, taking unfair advantage of his possession of the towel. She indulges him without comment, her silence tacit approval. He decides to push his luck and reaches around with the towel and begins to dry her breasts, an obvious further breach of after-shower etiquette. She winces as the cloth passes over her pointed nipples. "I'm pretty sensitive there," she gasps. "Remember the time of the month." "Oh, yeah," he quickly releases her. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Can I kiss it all better?" "Pshyeah, right," she mutters. "That will make it all better." But she eases the sting by smiling at him. "As demanding and rough as I was in the shower, I promise to be twice as gentle and tender," he says, giving her puppy-dog eyes. "Let me do this for you?" She has serious reservations (she is really, really sensitive when her period starts) but she is so enjoying the closeness to him and his affection for her is so plain and so adorable that she relents. "Okay, but you have to be extra careful." She turns and offers her chest to him. Softly, reverently, he leans in and gives her the lightest, most delicate butterfly kisses on and around her nipples, first the right and then the left. She is awed at how perfectly and carefully he treats her, touched by his concern and care. This tender moment juxtaposed as it is with his recent rude intrusion on her tonsils affects her deeply and she finds she is even more drawn to him. He is all man to her and yet deliberately and consciously subjects that testosterone rush to firm control just for her. Damn period! I really wish I could make love to him right now. Jon is not always known for his perception, particularly his perception of female moods and the subtle signals the female persuasion uses, but he gets this one right. If you had asked, he could not have told you one single thing that gave it away to him but he knew, just knew, in that moment what she needed, whether she was aware of it yet herself or not. "Come with me, Love. Lay down on the bed," he whispers, drawing her by the hand back into their bedroom. "Jon, I can't. I'm too sensi..." He silences her with a single soft finger to her lips. "I just want to lie close to my wife," he says, determined to show that he can be a loving and caring man, that not all men are pigs. "Let me hold you and take care of you. I'll be super careful of how sensitive you are right now." He lays her down carefully on the bed and kisses her lips lightly. He caresses her neck, her shoulder, her side down to her hip. He touches lightly, soothingly and deliberately avoiding anywhere that experience tells him will be too delicate. His tongue subtly explores her lips and gains tentative entrance, dancing, flirting with her. There are no demands, no burning hunger raging out of control; only tenderness, adoration and affection. It is suffused with a warmth and compassionate love that is touching and beautiful. He caresses her thighs gently but firmly enough not to tickle. She sighs at the beauty of it and gently parts her legs, trusting him and his understanding of her needs. He shifts a little closer in his kiss, the warmth of his chest pressing lightly against the side of her breast. It is just enough -- close contact but not intrusive. She inhales with pleasure and contentment in his arms. His hand continues its advance up the insides of her thighs to the juncture, warm and moist from the shower, her skin soft, smooth. He gently cups her mound, conscious of the dangers of overstimulation. There is no penetration and only minimal, general pressure against her hooded clitoris. It is perfect. In her hyper-sensitive state, the warmth and closeness of the embrace is more than enough, not raw and burning but comforting, enfolding, hugging. It stirs desire in her for him but not a ravenous hunger. He simply holds her thus and maintains their intimate connection in the kiss, exploring and sharing the moment together. Her love swells inside her, indistinguishable in the moment from physical pleasure and her hips rock against his embrace involuntarily. She breathes her contentment into his lips and shifts to increase the pressure of her breast against him. Her pelvis rolls again and again, seeking just slightly more pressure, more contact -- not additional sensation, really, just increased closeness to him. The heel of his wrist is over her clitoris and his fingers lightly trail through the wetness of her engorged lips. This is lovemaking of a different sort -- in tune with each other, sharing indescribable intimacies. The moment stretches out forever or it is done in the space of two breaths, it is impossible to tell, but the pleasure mounts impossibly within her and she finds a tension building in her core that will not be denied. It radiates out and engulfs her body like a really good stretch after a fitful, lazy nap on a warm summer's day. It rolls through in waves, her muscles quietly and firmly clenching. Their kiss is frozen as they cling together in her moment, nearly merging into one another. She returns from whatever glorious place she has been to find him staring intently and deeply into her eyes. The love and devotion found there cannot be denied. "Don't you ever tell me that you are too sensitive to be touched," he grins at her. "Touched in the right way, maybe, but without what has already gone on today, I doubt you could have been so restrained." "Fair enough. You're probably right there," he admits candidly. "And without the freedom to know that I couldn't take care of you first like I like to do, I never would have been able to do what we did. I guess I married a pretty smart woman." "Even if it took me so long to realize what I was doing?" she frowns, still angry at herself for the road she has led them down. Then she groans as they hear the sound of running feet headed for the TV and Saturday morning cartoons. "You stay here for a minute and rest. I'll go get 'em breakfast," Jon offers. "You just gave me the tender orgasm I needed; I'll get it for them," she moans, starting to rise. "Honey?" he raises an eyebrow that stops her in mid-motion. "I thought we were done with this 'chores as a reward for sex' thing. Let me do this for you because I want to." She looks at him skeptically; old habits and arguments struggling within her. "You're a little tapped out at the moment and can use a little rest to rejuvenate. Let me do this." "You've had a kind of taxing morning, too," she pouts but it is clear that she is sleepy at the moment. Jon considers it a major victory that she didn't come unglued on him for implying that she wasn't up to her end of the chores for any reason. This has been a major flare up point in past discussions. "Honey, if you're going to make the rest of the day, you need a little bit more sleep now. Remember that I promised to take Lynne's kids out fishing with Jordan and Timothy today. I'm going to need an extra hand to corral that crew. I need you to sleep just a little bit now so that we can partner together later." "Okay. If you put it like that," she smiles at him, already settling down into the covers, drowsy eyed. Where has this insightful, caring man been for the last few years? Why have I done nothing but argue with him? He pulls a light blanket over her, kisses her forehead and heads out the door to feed the little rascals. "Jon?" she halts him at the door with a quiet word. "Thank you for knowing what I needed. I still owe you more blowjobs today, if you want them." Jon is unclear whether she is talking about her needing sleep now or the needs he satisfied that made her sleepy. Not that it matters. "Thank you for admitting what our marriage needed," he whispers on his way to take care of the kids. Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 03 Author's Note: I have posted revisions to Chapters 1 and 2 based on the feedback that many of you graciously provided. I tried to let those comments guide this chapter; I'm sure you'll let me know if I succeeded or not. In retrospect, Chapters 1, 2 and 3 probably should have been one long story. I intend to write more action and less philosophical, explanation-of-motivation statements in later chapters. As always, characters in this story are entirely fictional. All characters engaged in sex acts are over the age of 18. All rights reserved. -- "I got one! I got one!" Tim yells excitedly nearly dropping his fishing rod as the red and white bobber ducks under the water. "Set the hook quickly and then reel slowly, steady pressure..." Jon coaches his son. But the bobber suddenly pops back up to the surface and the line races freely back to the dock as the young man furiously winds the line. "Sorry, champ. I think that one got away," Jon commiserates but takes the opportunity for a teaching moment to demonstrate again how a quick jerk on the line can hook the fish before it spits it back out, without the bait. The other kids have gathered around now as Jon carefully shows them how to re-bait the line and cast it back out. The dock at the out-of-the-way public park has proven to be an ideal spot for a kid-friendly fishing excursion on this somewhat overcast day. Plenty of small perch and sunfish close to shore. Nothing in the way of trophy fish and so it isn't crowded but lots of activity and interest to keep the young, budding anglers entertained. "Are we having fish for dinner tonight, dad?" Timothy asks. "I really doubt it," Jon says. "Your sister has been naming all the fish we catch and I really doubt she's going to put up with us eating 'Scaley', 'Big Eyes' or 'Fred.'" "And I'm not cleaning them either," Sue remarks lightly from behind his shoulder. Jon grins at her but speaks more directly to the boys. "Actually, this is a 'catch and release' lake, guys. But are you having fun?" "Yeah!" Charlie pipes up from over next to his sister. "Bet I can catch more than you today! C'mon, Tim, get your hook baited again; I saw a bunch of BIG ones over by the willow tree." Jon smiles again at his wife as she watches the youngsters race off after the next big catch. Then, noticing the confusion clouding her face, he follows her gaze past the kids up to the parking lot where a couple of women are getting out of a car in the parking lot. A brunette steps out of the passenger side and seems to be adjusting her clothes into place while the driver heads back toward the trunk to retrieve a picnic basket. The brilliant red hair of the driver is what draws their attention. "Isn't that Mandy?" Jon starts to ask, recognizing his wife's marriage counselor even from this distance but stops short when she rounds the car and gives her companion a light kiss and a hug. Even in this enlightened day and age, it is still surprising to see two women behaving like a romantic couple, particularly in this family-friendly public part, a decent drive from the city. "It sure looks that way..." Sue answers. "I guess I've always assumed that Mandy was lesbian, the way she spouted off against men all the time. Funny running into her this far from the city." "Yeah, she's a lesbian all right," Sue confirms. "What seems just a little weird is that I could swear that is Allison Shibley. And I wouldn't have pegged her for lesbian or even bi-curious. And I bet her husband wouldn't either." "Ouch. That could be a nasty surprise. I guess they could be headed for counseling soon." "And that's the problem. I'm sure I heard that Allison and Mike were already seeing her..." "Oh!" Jordan shrieks, yanking furiously on her fishing pole. "I got one, too!" "Reel steady. Take it easy," Jon calls out heading over to assist the his daughter. "Wonder what she'll name this one," he mutters. By the time the hook has been successfully removed from "Henrietta" and she has been safely returned to freedom in the lake, Sue has retrieved their digital camera from its bag and pauses briefly behind Jon. "If you've got things under control with the crew here, I might just wander off and see what there is to see over by the picnic tables." Jon eyes her suspiciously. "I'm fine here now that we've got everybody with a line in the water. Be careful, though, who you talk to and what you talk about." Sue nods, "Oh, I wasn't planning on having much conversation. Just want to see whatever there is to see here at the lake today." -- "Mom, can we go over to Charlie's and Ashley's and tell their mom about fishing?" "After everything is put away and you get washed up. You smell like a day at the lake," Sue chuckles. "And that goes for you, too, Charlie and Ashley," Jon addresses Lynne's kids. "Don't go running off home until the fishing gear is put away." Sue smiles at him as the kids dash off. "You're a good dad. And a good, 'positive male influence' for a single mom's kids." "Doesn't hurt to teach them a little responsibility." "Okay, now tell me about your foray over to the picnic area. You came back looking like you had seen a ghost. Did you talk with Mandy and what's her name? Allison?" "No! I didn't let them see me or know that I was there. Damn, Jon, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. This was not some little chance picnic to an out of town park. They were all over each other!" "Wouldn't have believed that Mandy would be in a lesbian relationship?" "No! That doesn't surprise me at all. It is that she would be in what appears to be a pretty steamy romantic relationship with someone coming to her for counseling." "Stuff is all put away! We're going over to Charlie's!" Timothy yells as a whirlwind of children blows out the backdoor. "Dinner will be ready in an hour! Be back by then!" Sue yells at the retreating backs of her children. "Are you beginning to come around to my view of your ex-marriage counselor?" "I am seeing more of her faults, yes." she grudgingly admits. "The rape accusation was totally outrageous; completely out of bounds. Now this." "I'm glad you didn't go and talk to Mandy that night. I'm glad it was Lynne you decided to share with." "After you left that night, I did some serious thinking. I went over to Lynne's and we talked for a long time. Well, I talked a lot and she listened. The more I talked and explained what I had tried to do -- argue with you and keep you off balance and... make sure you needed me more than I needed you," Sue at least has the decency to blush at this frank admission, "the more horrified she became. I mean, she thinks you are the best guy ever. She didn't understand why I was being such a shrew. She basically told me that I've been a manipulative bitch." "I've always kind of liked Lynne," Jon gives her a tight smile. "I'm glad you talked with her that night. But it sounds like she might have been a little harsh with you." "Well, maybe it was deserved. I realize now just how extreme Mandy's agenda has been. I realize that I have pushed you to do things for me, in exchange for sexual favors. I realize that I betrayed you by letting this argument over gender equality and female independence come between us. It woke me up to the reality that Lynne was right. I have been a manipulative bitch. I'm sorry, Jon." Jon looks are her with new appreciation. He knows it has to be really hard to admit that. He struggles for a moment about what to say back. "Yeah, you have been a manipulative bitch" doesn't feel like a good and diplomatic reply. "I'm sorry, too," Jon says. "Sorry about what?" "The truth is: we have a communication problem. We argue a lot but we don't really talk about what we want, about you and me. And that started, really, when I stopped going to counseling with you. I was just so put off by Mandy and the things she was saying, the way she was constantly attacking me -- everything was my fault..." "She wasn't saying everything was your fault..." "Probably not," he concedes. "It just felt that way. Regardless, I WAS wrong when I stopped going because that allowed us to stop communicating. The conversations between us on the subject of sex stopped. I was wrong and I shouldn't have let that happen." Sue nods, grateful that he is willing to accept some of the blame for their troubles. Jon continues, "That meant that the conversations that you and Mandy were having about our difficulties was the only conversation that was happening. I'll accept my part in putting you into a place where her somewhat extreme views were the only ones you were hearing since that was the only conversation taking place." Again she just nods, so he goes on, "So, let me say I am sorry. I stopped fighting for our marriage and started fighting with you about our marriage. I want to correct that. I want to fight with you to save our marriage. I want to be on your side as we fight together to make our marriage better. That means being honest about what you need and honest about what I need. Experience says that won't be easy. I might have to admit I was wrong." He smiles at her. "And maybe even admit that in some places and at some times, Mandy might have been right." "I like you characterizing it that way. I like seeing the fight in you -- the passion -- and I'm glad to feel like I am on your side." "Okay, then, let's talk. You started on this 'BJ Day' thing and what I need, physically but we haven't talked enough about what you need." "So, the problem here is that what turns me on isn't necessarily physical or even overtly sexual. It is our relationship, your commitment to me and our family. I love that you work to provide for us and come home after a hard day's work. I'm proud of you, Jon. You do good work. I love that and I love that you do stuff around the house because it is our house and we share it together and we share the work together. When you do something nice for me, that shows me that you are thinking about me and my comfort. That shows your love to me and that makes me want to be intimate with you." "That is dangerously close to 'doing chores to earn sexual favors.'" "It is," she reluctantly agrees, "and maybe that is how I got off-track with this, too, because when you do things like that, it puts me more in the mood and I am naturally more likely to respond to your sexual advances. It is just something about me -- you doing things, chores maybe, makes me love you more and so it is a natural extension that I end up 'rewarding' certain behavior." "But you do see how it puts 'conditions' on our intimacy and creates an adversarial relationship between us, right?" "Yes, I do now. But I can't help what turns me on. Like taking care of the kids even more! You being a good father is part of our relationship and really, really arousing to me. It shows your love and commitment to us, to our relationship, to our family. That kind of thing really puts me in the mood to be close to you." "So, this whole family outing today? The fishing trip? That makes you horny?" "Sort of," Sue smiles shyly. "I like seeing you as the father of my children; I'm proud of you when you are a good role model for Lynne's kids. You are the best dad in the neighborhood and I'm married to you. I get to give you blow jobs whenever you want." Jon smiles at her, grateful that they are actually talking about sex and not fighting about it. "And what if I wanted one right now? Right in the middle of our serious conversation?" "Then I would be obliged," she grins, sliding to her knees, "to respect my man's desires." She unbuckles his belt. "And do my duty as his wife and serve his needs." She begins fishing around in his boxers for his rapidly thickening cock. "Thus proving that he is a pig like all men, who will do anything for sex." She tries to get her lips around his head but he pulls back. "As much as I like your mouth there, I'm not willing to do this if that's what it means." She looks up at him adoringly from her knees. "I'm kidding, honey. I am not going back to that old argument. Yes, men will do just about anything for sex but that is not why I am doing this. I'm doing it because I love you and we both want to. We can continue our conversation when I'm done here. I did promise guilt-free BJs all day today." Dammit. He knows he is wrong, that he is losing an element of the battle with this, but she looks so delightful like this -- on her knees, staring up at him. "You're manipulating me," he says huskily. "Yes," she admits. "But I really do want your cock in my mouth. I really want to honor my promise to please you today. I want to do this for you to show you that I love you and because I want to demonstrate to you that I am committed to pleasing you, not because of anything you did or did not do today." She continues, "And I want to do this because it makes me horny, too. I like having your cock in my mouth. It makes me feel connected to you." "You've never admitted that before. You always said you didn't like sucking me." "I didn't. I had convinced myself that taking your cock in my mouth was demeaning to me as a woman. But I knew you liked it, so it was a bargaining chip, something that I could hold over you. If I admitted I liked it, even to myself, that granted power to you. When it was a 'favor' that I only sometimes did for you, that gave me the upper hand." "You denied yourself something you liked just to maintain the upper hand in the balance of power?" "It sounds pretty stupid when you say it like that, but yes, I did," she admits guiltily, searching his eyes and seeing the disapproval, the disappointment in them. She would do a lot to erase that disappointment on his face. "Well, let's fix that. Let's give you something we both want. Open your mouth, bitch." Anger flairs in her at the b-word but in her horny state and knowing what she has promised, she obeys, receiving and accepting his tumescent manhood as he thrusts forward. It is a connection, an intimacy and her anger rapidly turns to lustful passion; her accommodating of his demands turns into a hunger to please him. She marvels in the truth that she loves having him in her mouth, that intimacy that she holds his pleasure in her mouth and hands. And she admires the strength in him, the desire, his hunger for her. She sets out to show her love and devotion, her remorse for how she has manipulated him. He moans in pleasure. "Mmmm, that's good, lover." I've moved up from 'bitch' to 'lover', she gloats. Amazing how cock sucking can change attitudes. Jon picks up the camera from the kitchen counter while she works. "Mind if I peruse the pictures you took today while I enjoy what you are doing?" She pauses momentarily. "You just want to see girls kissing girls." "Uh, yeah! What self-respecting chauvinistic pig wouldn't?" he grins down at her lasciviously, pleased that she isn't trying to stop him. Her betrayal of Mandy in taking the pictures and now sharing them with him certainly testifies to her changed attitude. "Pig," Sue mutters between licks. "What is it with you guys and girl-on-girl action?" Jon turns his attention to the little screen on the camera. Sue has done a remarkable job of capturing the lesbian lovebirds on their picnic adventure. In reality, the pictures are hardly pornographic, most of the kissing and groping happening over top the pair's clothes and the distance and angles aren't sufficient to show hardly anything. Still, even the casual observer can clearly see what is going on. "So, you think Allison and... what's his name?" "Mmph." Sue pulls her mouth off his cock. "Mike. You met him at Robinson's Christmas party." "Really?" "You'd know him if you saw him." "Okay. Whatever. You think Allison and Mike are seeing Mandy for counseling?" "Mmm," she hums around him. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure of it. I think they are separated and headed for a divorce but they have been working with Mandy for several months now." "Forgive me for saying so, but I don't think she can be helping their marriage very much if she is dashing off for an illicit rendezvous with part of the couple. Sounds more like she has been seducing her patient, not giving advice on saving their marriage." "I know. That's why I took the pictures. I can't believe she would be so unethical as to be having an affair with one of her clients." "Hmm. Mandy behaving unethically? Imagine that," Jon says sarcastically, a pretty dumb move, really, since his cock is in her mouth. "Ow! Careful there with the teeth," he flinches but she just chuckles. Men! How easily controlled. But she does continue with her task. "Not only unethical, but just not very smart. Wouldn't you think that she would wait until the divorce is final? Or keep it to a discrete, sleazy, by-the-hour motel?" "I wud fink," she nods around his fully erect cock now in the back of her throat. "That feels really, really good by the way. I do appreciate you going out of your way to make this feel good." "Hello!" Lynne calls through the screen door causing a mad scramble by the couple to make themselves presentable. Jon's cock exits Sue's mouth with a noticeable "pop" and he scrambles to get tucked in. Sue hops up from her knees, hastily wiping the drool from her chin and blushing furiously. "Oh, uh, hi, Lynne! C'mon in," she sputters as Jon turns his back to the door, trying to zip up around his bobbing and weaving cock. Lynne belatedly realizes what was happening as she steps into the kitchen. "Oh, sorry. Hope I'm not interrupting..." "No, no, that's alright..." Sue lies unconvincingly. "We were just... uh..." "This is BJ day, isn't it?" Lynne knows her friend too well and easily recognizes her failed attempt to come up with anything plausible to say. "Well..." "Shit. I'm so sorry. I'll just be going now." "No, no. That's okay," Jon remarks. "Mood broken now." "Damn. My timing is pretty lousy, huh? Sorry about that." "Our own fault for doing it right here in the middle of the room. Better you catch us than the kids. What can we do for you, Lynne?" "I just came over to thank you guys for taking Charlie and Ashley today. They had so much fun; they are just bubbling over about it. It was really nice of you to include them in your family outing." "They are good kids, Lynne. It wasn't that much trouble to throw an extra couple of fishing poles in the car." "You don't know how much it means to a single mother, though, to get a little break and for them to get some good, quality time with a 'normal,' healthy family. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it." "Happy to do it." "Well, I want to return the favor somehow. How about you two pick a date night, some night? I'll watch the kids and the two of you just go out to a movie. When was the last time just the two of you went out?" Jon looks lovingly at his wife. "Dinner and a movie? A chance for us to talk? I mean really talk?" "Next Saturday, then? You two lovebirds make yourselves a date. It would be my pleasure to give you that. Now, I'll get out of your way so that you can... get back to what you were doing." Before that happens however, the female half of the younger crowd comes giggling in the back door. Sue looks at Jon, shrugs and they snicker together before heading to the kitchen to start on supper. Lynne smiles at the two of them before heading back to her house, pleased to see them having a civil conversation and apparently enjoying each other's company. -- After the dinner dishes are done and the two are along again, Jon and Sue resume their conversation. Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 03 "So. Are you completely done with Mandy and this ridiculous notion that all men are jerks that deserve to be manipulated by the woman they love?" "I don't know that all Mandy's ideas were completely off base..." "Oh, so which of her ideas were good ones -- the one where she sleeps with one of her patients or the one where she ruins my life with false accusations." "Maybe the one where men will do almost anything to get the sex that they want." Jon pauses to reflect for a moment. "Okay, maybe there is some truth to that one," he concedes. "A lot of guys (maybe myself included) will do an awful lot of ridiculous things when we're horny. But consider this for a moment: Maybe the guy does all those stupid things not JUST because he gets sex but at least partially because, deep down, despite it all, he truly loves the woman that he promised to love, honor and cherish all the days of his life. Even when she behaves like a manipulative bitch." Is he trying to tell me that he still loves me and is willing to work this out with me? Sue thinks silently, hopeful. "A lot of our life together has been good, Sue. You've been my partner and life coach. You were there for me through all the crazy shit when we were first married -- that tiny, fire-trap of an apartment over on Union Street? And you put up with all the crap when I first started at Lambert and worked all those crazy hours? I mean, I know you were stuck at home with the kids while we launched that product and I was there twelve, fourteen hours a day. You were my rock and even brought me dinner when shit happened and I just didn't come home and didn't even call. "Sue, I love you and I wasn't willing to throw that away when you started to push the 'men are just out to subjugate women' bullshit and started trying to manipulate our sex life. I thought we could work it out somehow. I thought I could get you to see what Mandy was doing to you, doing to US. I thought we could fix it, if I could just love you enough. "And I realize now, that I was stupid. I thought that loving you enough meant playing along and giving in to you and that eventually you'd wake up but now, all we have is this ridiculous rape accusation and years of us arguing over sex. "Are you willing to work with me on this? Are you willing to be honest and try to see the good in me again? See me as more than just a stupid male that is completely driven by testosterone and begin treating me again like your life partner?" "Yes, Jon. That's what I've been trying to tell you. That's what BJ day is all about. I want you to be the husband. I want you to be the man of the house. I want you to stop putting up with my shit and stand up for yourself. The more I demanded of you, the more you became a pussy. And then the other night, I pushed your buttons and you let 'the beast' out and I got to see the passion in you again, the fire. I want that. I want you to have that passion for me. "I want to work with you, Jon. I want our marriage to work and I recognize that I've done a lot of things that have hurt it. That I've hurt you. I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?" "I want to, hon. I want the great things that are going on in our life -- like your career and my career and the house and the kids and... and a day just fishing with you and the kids -- I want that to carry over into the bedroom, too. I want our relationship -- our partnership -- to be part of what we experience together. "I'm a guy, Sue. And as much as I like making love to you and adoring you and pleasing you, sometimes I just want to fuck. I just want to get down and dirty and fuck like a bastard." "Sometimes I want that, too, Jon." "But anytime I ever let that out, really bad things happen. Like I get accused of rape." "I know, Jon. I realize that now. That's what I've been trying to tell you. I want you to be who you are and I promise not to... shut you down." "And not punish me later for 'being a man'?" "That's what BJ day is supposed to show you. You can be as demanding of me as you want without fear of reprisal outside the bedroom." "This is good, Sue. I think we are finally communicating. Maybe it took stupid Mandy and her fucked-up accusation to wake us up and get us actually talking together." "Maybe she did us some good after all, in a perverse sort of way. What are we going to do about her anyway?" Jon picks up the camera again and flips through the images on the little screen. "What were your intentions taking these photos?" "I don't know, Jon. I guess I just couldn't believe what I was seeing and wanted to have a record of it that would prove I wasn't mistaken somehow." "I think you managed that," Jon grins, staring at the little screen. "What do you think we should do with them?" "Oh, I never intended them to go anywhere. What are you thinking? Go public with them and ruin Mandy's career just to prove a point?" "Kind of like she did her damnedest to ruin our marriage just to prove her point?" "I guess there is that." "Yes, my dear, there is that. And I'm going to protect the next poor bastard down the line from the false rape charges. If she is really doing what I think she is doing with a patient, then she needs to be done counseling. Don't you agree? I mean, Sue, look at these pictures. The ink isn't even dry on their divorce yet, if it has even happened. What chance did their marriage have if the counselor is sleeping with one of the couple?" "She's been my friend for a lot of years, Jon. I can't just call the State Board and ruin her career. Can we do this somehow so she doesn't have to know I took the pictures?" "Yeah, I'd like to keep my name out of the papers, if I can help it. Maybe..." -- "Mike, thanks for meeting me. You may not remember me; we met at the Robinson's Christmas party." "That's where I've seen you before! But I confess I couldn't place your name when you left me that voice mail." "I'm terrible with names myself and wouldn't have remembered our meeting if my wife hadn't reminded me," Jon grins, acknowledging just how awkward this exchange is. The two men sit down at the café table. "So what is this about, Jon?" he asks. "Let me get right to the point, Mike. Are you and your wife getting marriage counseling from Mandy Cassidy?" "Yeah, I guess that's no secret." "We... well, really my wife, Sue, has been going to see Mandy for a couple of years." "Oh, sorry about your luck, then," Mike grins ruefully. "Yeah, really," Jon nods. "To be honest, she hasn't been too much help." "Pfffyeah," Mike snorts. "Color me surprised. Look, Allison and I were already separated and headed for divorce before the counselor from hell ever came on the scene. In fact, our lawyers had it drawn up and we were looking for court dates when her lawyer said that the judge would insist that we try to work some of it out through counseling. My dumb-ass lawyer agreed and her lawyer suggested Mandy. Dumbest mistake I've ever made, short of marrying the bitch in the first place. I shoulda kicked my dumb-ass lawyer in his dumb ass; told him to man up and get us into the court room." Jon nods, sensing that the guy needs to unburden himself of the frustration he's been living through. "We ended up on a four-month 'program'. Every session is the same -- drag me in there, tell me I'm a shitty no good man and try to pry some other detail about how much more at fault I am that she wants out of the marriage. We've renegotiated the agreement twice now and each time gets progressively worse for me. Thankfully, my four month sentence is almost up, we can set a date and I can become a free man." "I think you should negotiate one last time, my friend," Jon pulls out a folder and slides it across the table. Mike flips it open and is confronted with pictures of Mandy and Allison out on their "date." "The little fuckin' bitch!" Mike roars. Perhaps the diner wasn't such a good idea, Jon thinks. "I'll kill the cheatin' dyke!" "Mike!" Jon barks and it brings the irate guy back to his senses. "Get a grip, man." "But this? Aw, Allie. You didn't have to go doin' shit like this!" "Mike, get your head on straight. I didn't give you these so you can go all postal on us. Yeah, it is a shitty hand you've been dealt but you deserved to know. And it may give you a little leverage in the next round of negotiations. Now, these pictures are incriminating but maybe a little tame. You are probably going to have to bolster it with more evidence -- whatever you can find. "Don't go charging in shouting and swearing and make an ass of yourself. That won't get you anywhere. Calmly ask the four of you to get together -- you, Allison and both your lawyers. Say you've one or two things to tie up. Calmly, quietly, show them the pictures and ask them if there is anything that they would like to revise about the current divorce arrangement. "They'll ask you where you got the pictures. Just say it doesn't matter; are they trying to deny the truth of what you can all plainly see -- your wife cheating on you with your marriage counselor? If her lawyer starts to object, remind him that he is the one who suggested Mandy in the first place and wouldn't the court just love to hear about whatever little kick-back system they've got going on there." "But Jon, my marriage was all but over, anyway. I have already started seeing someone myself..." "It really isn't about you and Allison, Mike. She'll go along with it to try to protect Mandy who is the only one that is really going to get in deep shit over all this. There are rules about counselors fucking with those they counsel. Once Allison realizes those pictures are going to come out in court? I think your divorce arrangement is going to get better." "So, what's in it for you? Why you doing this?" "Look, man, if I were in your shoes, I'd want to know. I feel for you. And from what I've seen here and a few other things that I don't want to talk about tonight, I just think the world would be a better place if Mandy Cassidy weren't advising people on how to reconcile their marriages. I would consider it payment enough if she permanently leaves the counseling business and doesn't do this," he nods toward the folder, "to anyone else." -- A week or so later, Sue springs some news on Jon as he sets his laptop bag down by the backdoor. "I got an interesting call from someone at the Department of Social Services today. She wanted to talk about the rape accusation." "Oh?" Jon is dreading yet another round of trying to explain to government officials what actually happened. "What did you tell them?" "The truth. The whole incident was a misunderstanding between me and my therapist; it was not a misunderstanding between me and you. There never was any assault and I have never felt threatened, abused or forced by you in any way." "Thanks for that. I appreciate it," Jon acknowledges. "Did they ask about her relationship with Allison?" "They didn't say anything to me about it but you can bet if they are investigating, that somehow it came out." "Yeah, I suppose something that juicy isn't going to stay secret very long," Jon replies. "It sounds like they are being pretty thorough, if they are going back and investigating the rape charge as well." "Yes, I suppose," Jon agrees. "I heard that the police threatened to charge her with filing a false report. Apparently this was not the only case of her doing this to couples and they were tired of it." "Good to know they believe us that no rape happened. Nevertheless, Sue, you do understand that this accusation will never go away. It will always be on file; people will forever have this in their mind about me." "I understand, Jon, and I'm sorry about that. It will always be there and I will always owe you, then. If it takes you a lifetime to live it down, then it will take me a lifetime to make it up to you." "I like the sound of that," Jon gives her a crooked smile. "More BJ Days?" "Maybe," she grins back. "That and so much more. Lynne has given me some advice on other ways to improve our marriage," she answers with a twinkle in her eye. "Better advice leads to a better marriage," he grins back wondering what she has in mind. For the first time in a long time, though, he is looking forward to finding out. Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 04 Author's Note: As always, reading the previous chapters will give you more background but this chapter is intended to stand on its own also. Feedback is appreciated. All characters involved in sexual situations are over 18. All rights reserved. -- "So, you're really going to leave me on a Friday night with the kids to go grunt, spit and do whatever else it is that you guys do at these ballgames?" "Honey, if you want me to stay..." Jon offers, aware that she really has been trying to change, to focus on their marriage, although it is clear he wants to go. "No, no! I'm kidding, Love," Sue quickly backtracks. "You've been looking forward to this night for a while. You don't get to go 'out with the guys' that often. You go and have fun." The conversation is interrupted by a knock at the back door. This can only be neighbor/best friend Lynne; she is the only one who comes across the yards and directly to the back door. "C'mon in, Lynne!" Sue hollers. Even if the sun is shining outside, there is definitely a storm brewing on the brunette's face. Tears are in her eyes and an angry flush on her cheeks. "Oh my gosh, Lynne! What's wrong?" Sue asks, as the kids, Jordan and Timothy, hustle into the kitchen, curious about what is going on. "The damn bastard's not coming!" Lynne spits, before glancing guiltily at the young ears listening to her tirade. "Sorry, kids, I shouldn't have said that." "Who? Chuck?" Sue asks, referring to Lynne's ex-husband. "Yeah, he is supposed to be coming over to take Ashley out for a special night, just the two of them. I called him just to make sure he is coming; you know how he is. Oh, Sue, he is so smashed. He could barely speak clearly through the alcohol, let alone drive a car." "Oh, Lynne," Sue hurts for her friend. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to burden you guys with this. I just came over for a boost of courage before I go home and break my little girl's heart. She has been planning this for days -- what she is going to wear, how she is going to do her hair... She is only eight, for heaven's sake. How can he do that to her?" "He's not still going to try to come over, is he?" Sue asks, worried about a confrontation. "Fu... Heck, no!" Lynne catches herself, glancing again at the seven and nine year-old faces in the doorway to the family room. "I told him flat out not to come. Even if by some miracle he gets his car here safely, there is no way my girl is getting into it with him in that state. I made it very clear the kids and I did not want to see him until he is a lot more sober. Even flaming drunk, he'll get that. Now, what the heck do I tell Ashley? That the most important man in her life cares more about a stupid bottle than taking her out to dinner on the one night this year he has bothered to come across the state to visit her?" "You tell her that her dad is feeling a little sick and so you asked another guy that thinks she is special to take her to dinner tonight," Jon steps into the conversation. "Jon, you can't do that..." Sue interjects. "Sue, I have to. Somebody has to. Ashley is a sweetie; we can't let her think that all men will let her down like that. It will be my honor to take her to dinner." "Jon, I can't ask you to do that. You had plans, I'm sure," Lynne objects. "Nothing more important than this. These are moments that can't be replaced; if Chuck can't (or won't) do it, somebody has to step up." "You are the only real positive male role model in her life," Lynne concedes. "And I'm not sure I've mentioned how much I appreciate that." "Where was Chuck going to take her?" "I'm not sure..." Lynne frowns. "You could take her to Hartley Castle," Sue suggests, "Big. Victorian atmosphere, very romantic, very princess." "Uh, yeah, hmm," Jon glances behind Sue and sees the betrayed look in Jordan's eyes. "What's a matter, manly man? Is the formal setting a little too feminine for you?" Sue teases, with a sparkle in her eye. "Uh, no. That's not it actually. Hartley Castle is kind of my and Jordan's special place, where we go on daddy/daughter dates. I'd kind of like to keep it that way." Sue belatedly realizes what Jon is seeing on his daughter's face. Man, he can be perceptive sometimes! "What do you think, Jordan?" Jon deliberately involves her. "You know Ashley better than anyone. Where do you think she would like to go to dinner tonight?" Jordan's face brightens visibly. She is delighted to be involved in the preparations for her friend's special night, even if it does mean sharing her daddy. "She loves pizza. Pizza Hut is her favorite!" "Y'know, she's probably right," Lynne laughs. "Whether it is the classiest or not probably doesn't matter." Jon ponders for a second. "All the corporate softball leagues go to Pizza Hut on Friday night; they don't take reservations and I'm not keen on getting jostled around in that little lobby while we wait for a table. Angelino's over on 16th Street has pretty good pizza. Has she ever been there?" "Nope," Lynne smiles at him, grateful beyond words that he is being so considerate of the young girl's needs. "But I'm sure she would love it. What do you think, Jordan?" Jordan smiles broadly and nods her head. Someplace nice where they have cloth napkins and no TV playing sports overhead is probably better for the dress that she knows Ashley has been planning on for her big date with her father. "Sue, will you go see if Angelino's takes reservations? Jordan? Timothy? Go get your mom's pruning shears from the gardening bin in the garage and cut the prettiest rose you can find off the bush in the side yard. Lynne, you need to go help your daughter get her dress on. I'll be at your door in about half an hour." Lynne is dumbfounded by how fully engaged the whole family is in rescuing hers from yet another emotional disaster caused by her alcoholic ex-husband. "Kids!" Jon yells after his children as they scramble to beat each other to the garage. "No fighting. Jordan, you get to pick out the rose. Tim, you get to cut it. Leave about this much stem." He holds up his fingers. "And be careful of the thorns; we don't need anybody bleeding to death." "They're going to mangle that rose, you know," Sue smiles at him; she loves seeing this side of him. "Yeah, but it will still be special to Ashley (every girl likes getting flowers) and it gets them involved in doing something nice for their friend." "You are a great dad." She acknowledges, aware that she needs to do more to show her appreciation for this side of him. "I try," he smiles back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to call Jim and let him know that he has to find somebody else to sit with him in the third row on the first base side." -- "That was the sweetest thing ever, you know." "Actually, it was really, really fun. Ashley is such a nice young lady." "Sorry you missed your baseball game." "That's okay. Once I knew that Chuck wasn't going to make it to his date with Ashley, I wouldn't have had it any other way. That was where I needed to be." "How can I make it up to you now that the kids are all in bed?" she asks, sidling up to him sensually. "Uh, no. I want to be done with this 'I do certain things and get repaid with sexual favors' thing." "You malign me, sir! What you did tonight was very thoughtful, very unselfish, very gallant. I am very proud of you. Proud that you are my husband and the father of my children. A very good father. That makes me want you, stud." "In that case, take off your clothes, turn around and bend over." She stares at him and raises an eyebrow. "Why?" "Because I like looking at your ass. And I know it is a position that embarrasses you, one of those 'demeaning' poses that you are reluctant to do." She blushes and continues to stare at him, stifling her instinctive response, which would be to point out how stereotypical male he is being. She reminds herself that this is what she wanted, for him to be more assertive and open about what he wants. He shrugs at her. "You're always more likely to do things you are reluctant to do when you're horny." "Sometimes you're a chauvinistic bastard, did you know that?" she says. She knows she has "lost" this battle -- she has let her sexual needs be known and therefore, made herself vulnerable to manipulation. This is what Mandy had warned her about, what she has fought all this time. But as Lynne has pointed out to her recently, "So what?" He likes it; I like it; what's the harm? I really liked "the beast" in him that he let out the other night and despite letting him behave that way, he obviously still treats me like a human being; his partner, friend and equal. She begins undressing under his watchful gaze. "Sometimes I am," he acknowledges with the same playful tone. "But I'm beginning to think you like that." She glares back at him for a moment in playful anger. It is an audacious thing for him to say given their shared mutual commitment to gender equality. However, she realizes there is a kernel of truth to what he says. It does excite her a little bit when he is more aggressive and makes a few demands of her. She saw that in him the other night and did like it. If that comes off as him being chauvinistic, then, yeah, maybe she does like it a little bit. And she also has to acknowledge that she is more likely to do some of these things when she is horny like she is right now, although she didn't realize it was so obvious. "Just don't go overboard with it," she finally concedes, committed to seeing if Mandy really was wrong and they can navigate a path of female submission in the bedroom and gender equality everywhere else. She resumes her striptease by pushing her shorts off her ankles. Jon recognizes this for the true concession it is, an acknowledgement of her changed outlook on the world. Just a few short weeks ago, she would not have allowed any such concession, any weakening of her stance, any giving of ground to her opponent. "You're not going to spank me, are you?" she asks. Up to that moment, he really hadn't considered it. Oh, they had joked about spanking in the early years of their marriage. He clearly was into it and she clearly was not. Although they had made leaps and bounds adjustments in their attitudes and opinions, Jon knew there was no way the needle had moved that far. "Oh, probably not," he chuckles, wondering how far he can push her buttons. "At least not very hard." He grins to her dagger stare. He knows he is toying with fire. Not very long ago, such a comment might have flared into an argument. These days she is more open to such playfulness. Jon is pleased that Sue continues to undress for him, seeming to understand that he is joking with her. Sue is somewhat surprised by herself as well, that she accepts this from him. In fact, she isn't altogether convinced that he is joking. And even more surprising, she isn't sure exactly how she feels about that. She is pleased that they are joking together but uncomfortable with the subject they are joking about. He isn't really going to spank me, is he? And what if he does? What would I do about that? Why did I even say that? It sounded more like an invitation than a question. She finishes by reaching behind, unclasping her bra and shrugging it off. She pauses a moment letting her vulnerability at being completely naked while he is fully clothed sink in for both of them. She is not only naked in her lack of clothes but naked and vulnerable to him in her sexual need. They both know that the hard tips on her breasts are not caused by the temperature in the room. Sue decides not to deny or hide that fact and lightly arches her back to accentuate the effect. She is openly inviting his examination and appreciation of her ample chest and the arousal displayed there. After such a long time fighting for the upper hand between them, this yielding of the power in the relationship is novel and causes a flutter deep in her belly that surprises her. She is aware that he is looking at her with hunger in his eyes and, quite frankly, that turns her on. But to allow him to look at her solely as a sex object is unnerving, unfamiliar. She is committed to this road, however, and after giving him ample time to appreciate her front side, she turns her back to him as requested and presents her bottom, even arching her back to accentuate her curves. I really am going to do this, she tells herself. Bend over and present my naked ass to him like he asked me to. This is so humiliating, but he wants it. Am I giving up my ideals or sharing an intimate moment with my husband? Why does it excite me like this? Why is my heart pounding? He really wants to see me like this? Dammit, Lynne, you sure as hell better be right about being submissive being the right way to win him back and save our marriage. If not, I'm demeaning myself for nothing! But even as she thinks that she knows it isn't true. It is not for nothing because it has already given her greater connection with her husband and a surprising resurgence in their sex life. And she finds that she truly enjoys pleasing him, even if it means giving up some of her own control and power. Somehow, against all the logic of her belief in her womanly independence, she likes submitting to him. She forces herself to spread her legs, knowing that this will expose her sex and her arousal. "Oh, my gosh, honey! That is so sexy. Damn, but you are hot!" Sue blushes under his frank assessment, feeling both vulnerable and desired. If you're going to embrace the role, then do it right! she thinks to herself. She drops further down putting her elbows on the bed and arches her back. A gush of wetness flows to her exposed lips, acknowledging the ancient, primal stance of the female, offering herself. She feels like a bitch in heat, presenting her enflamed sex to be bred. This is a stake in the heart to her inner, die-hard feminist. She deliberately does not lower her head to the sheets as that would require her to turn her head and catch sight of him in her peripheral vision. There is something even more submissive, more acquiescent to stay on her elbows staring straight ahead, waiting patiently for him do whatever he wants to her -- stare at her, take her, reject her, toy with her, own her -- it is all up to him to do with her as he pleases. She hears him groan quietly and she smiles to herself. The sound is low and feral, masculine and packed with unsatisfied longing that she knows will be sated in her. It is filled with such desire, such lust. He is absolutely panting for her. She is ready to receive his passion, to accept it, to let the tidal wave of his desire crash against her welcoming, enveloping shore. She knows she has given up the intellectual victory but in the process has opened the door to his primal passion. She waits. And in her waiting she gives. She gives herself to his pleasure and, she realizes, to hers. She stews in her own desire, willing herself to acquiesce, to receive, to accept, to endure, to grant him full rights to her. She nearly jumps when his finger makes delicate, soft contact with her heated sex but she steels herself to remain stoically in place, waiting for her stud to breed her. The wailing echo of her inner feminist's dying gasp. He carefully caresses her flower, sending electric thrills that shoot through her aroused loins. So subtle, so tender, so sensual. He plays with her in a most familiar way, arousing the engorged, exposed lips, brushing her clitoris, delving lightly into the moist opening. Her complete and total focus on her sex and the maddeningly erotic things that he is doing to her nearly breaks her but she remains in her stance, purposefully staring away from him and yielding to his touch. His fingers flutter across her now, providing such delights. She marvels that he knows so well how and where to touch her, years of experience pleasing her paying off. Involuntarily, her hips join in the dance. He brings his other hand in to play as well, providing gentle but firm pressure against her clitoris, just like she likes, while his other hand strums her like a finely tuned instrument. Such music they play together, an ancient tune. She realizes that she is whimpering now, her need raw and plain, but she does nothing to hide it. Her hips rock in lewd display, begging him to make use of her. Without losing pace, he shifts on the bed to bring his raging hard-on up behind her. He lightly brushes the bulbous head through her wetness. "Yeesssss," she hisses, ready, oh so very ready for him. "What do you want?" he whispers, taunting. His finger is still tight against her clitoris. A slight gyration of her hips slowly grinds her button underneath. "I want you. I want you in me. I want you to take me." She knows that her capitulation is complete. Her need so plain and she yields that to him. She has consciously traded her independence from maledom for dependence on this man. She is dependent on him for her pleasure, for him to meet her deepest needs. But she realizes it is not a betrayal of herself, for it is her own decision, made on her terms, to yield to him. "You want me where?" "In me. Inside me." "Inside where?" "My... pussy." This is big for her. To be able to voice her needs so graphically. Jon understands now how truly far she has come. How much she loves him and is committed to making things right in their marriage. "I love to hear you say things like that. It turns me on to hear you graphically admit your needs, needs that I desperately want to fulfill for you." "Take me. I'm yours." "Take you? How?" Really? Is he really going to make me say it? Isn't it enough that I'm on my elbows and knees, just waiting for him to do whatever he pleases? But as exasperated as she is, she wallows in the sheer naughtiness of it. She is hungry for him, aching, and she knows that he is going to demand the worst from her; drag her through her most base desires and rub her nose in it. How does he know how much that is going to turn her on? Where does such understanding come from? "Stick it in me. Give me your... cock. Put it in my pussy." His hips twitch forward and the tip of his cock breaches her opening. "Like that? In there? That's what you want?" "Ah, ah, ah! Jon!" she whines at him. "I want you to shove it in me. Take me." "And what is that called?" They are at the crux of it now. Have they really reached the point where she can open up and beg him for what they both want? "Fuck me!" she hisses. "Shove your fucking cock right into my cunt, you bastard!" He glides home into the tight sheath of her. And they both feel it. Right then, right there, they are joined. They are both raw and exposed in their need for each other and together, right now, they are more married to each other than they have been for a long, long time, maybe forever. He is her husband; she is his wife. No longer independent but mutually dependent on each other. Pressed up against her from behind, with his hands possessively on her hips, he rocks against her, trying to make his balls push against her clitoris. "Ooooh, Jon!" she moans. "I love you." "I love you, too, sweetie. And I love fucking you. And I love hearing you beg me to fuck you. I know how much you love me because I know how hard this is for you to do, kneeling like this, asking for it like that. I'm very impressed with this precious gift you are giving me." "Mmmmm," she whines, feeling his cock fill her. Somehow, she had always thought that this position was "dirty" or demeaning or degrading, that she would feel less respected, less cherished, less loved. But his words reassure her and they align with what she is feeling, that humbling herself like this and offering herself to him has touched a deep, primal part of her that is intensely erotic. She loves being his bitch. She loves that he made her ask him to fuck her. She loves that she was dirty and nasty and said "fuck" and "cunt". Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 04 Theirs is a marriage of equals -- they rejoice in sharing their life together as equal partners on this journey -- but tonight, she is okay being the lesser partner, being the "junior" and letting him have control, letting him have his wicked, selfish way with her. Suddenly, she feels like she is just his bitch and surprisingly, she doesn't mind. Her man deserves to have his own bitch and she wouldn't want it to be anybody else but her. "Do it," she hisses. "Take what you want. Ram your cock right up into me if you want. Whatever you want; however you want it. Fuck me if you want to." She feels nasty and dirty and more sexy than she has felt in forever. His cock swells at her sexy words and he simply can't believe how much his desire for her grows. His love grows right along with it. He slowly withdraws his glistening rod from her soft, wet flesh, watching, fascinated to see the head create a ripple under her skin. He grips her hips possessively and draws her back against him. "I like watching my cock disappear into you, pushing into your pussy," he remarks. "I like watching your bottom from this angle, too. The way your cheeks curve out and spread. The way your cute little butthole winks back at me as my hard cock drills into your sloppy wet cunt." "Mmmm," she whines again, thinking, Man, how does he know just what to say to make me feel even more like his bitch? I can't believe he is staring at my asshole. And likes it! Thinks it is sexy! What a disgusting pig. But even that embarrassment is arousing. If he finds even her disgusting, filthy asshole enticing; he must really love her. "Mmm, yeah. Take me. Use me." She even likes the possessive pressure of his hand on her hip; there is something casual, strong, controlling about it. "Mmm," he groans back at her, withdrawing oh so slowly and marveling at the way her engorged lips suck at the glistening wetness shining on his cock, almost as if kissing him. "I want to go slowly and prolong this; enjoy the sensations of the slick walls of your pussy." "Oh, Jon, I want you so much," she pants, need raw in her voice. "I want you, too. I want to pound you. Ram my cock into you. Plunder you and ravish you until you beg me to stop. But I'm going to make both of us wait, feeding off the tension and the hunger that waiting for it creates." Slowly, relentlessly he pushes back into her, controlling her thrust back against him with firm pressure on her hip. She feels reined in, bridled like an unbroken filly, prancing and straining at the unfamiliar bit. His inexorable push into her depths only enflaming the emptiness she feels inside. She is controlled, steered, restrained. And in that moment, she also feels protected and guided. She has given him all her need and base desires and he holds them in his hands. "Please!" she begs. "Fuck me. Fuck your bitch. I'm your cunt to fuck however you want. Make me yours. Mark me." He catches a glimpse of the depth of the vulnerability she is exposing to him. She is giving herself to him in a very real and tender way. This is an incredibly precious gift -- delicate, exquisite, breakable. He is moved nearly to tears at the beauty and intimacy of it. He draws back again, aware of the trembling of her hips beneath his hands, staring at the nasty secret of her brown pucker as it clenches and flutters with her pelvic muscles attempting to suck him back into the wetness of her gushing pussy. He pulls all the way out, allowing a languid drip of their combined pre-cum to escape her upturned sex and roll down across her turgid clitoris. He gently stabs the head of his prick at the gaping maw of her overheated pussy, barely breaching the entrance with a lewd, wet, kissy sound. His fingers splay into the fleshy globes of her butt, prying her cheeks apart and stretching her anus obscenely. "Jon! Oh, fuck, Jon! Please! Please, please, please, please!" He continues to dance in and out of her molten core, never giving either of them the satisfaction they crave. Taunting both of them for the sheer joy of the anticipation. She gets the message that she has no control; she can't force him; she can't beg him; she can't influence him. She has given herself to him and he can play with her as long as he wants. It is a startling and beautiful revelation -- complete trust, complete love. When he decides, he pushes into her again, filling her, completing her, merging with her. It feels as if his sword has pierced her very soul, that his cock extends so far into her that she is impaled on a spit. His hip bones are pressed into the curves of her upturned behind and his hairy balls are dangling against her oversensitive clitoris. Pleasure radiates out from his cock buried within her. Her face falls to the bed and her scream of joy is smothered in the mattress. Her hands, free now from supporting her, maul her breasts in vicious fashion -- squeezing, pulling, tugging—wringing every ounce of sensation from the sensitive flesh. He took her orgasm. He forced her to it without her decision or her consent. Oh, she wanted it alright but it is clear to her that she could not have stopped it or started it earlier or enhanced it or diminished it. He granted her an orgasm from his benevolence because he wanted to give it to her, wanted her to have it. He owns her cunt. He owns her pleasure. He fucks her when and how he wants and she cums when and how he wants. He marvels at the spectacle before him as she writhes on his piercing cock like a worm on a hook. The sensations washing through her body evident in every muscle spasm and every shriek not quite suppressed in the blankets. It makes him proud and masculine and virile. He has taken her precious gift and given it back to her with a bow. This is so over the top erotic to him that it triggers his climax. Not an immediate gushing throb but he has turned the corner and he knows it is inevitable at this point; his body has taken over and nothing in his entire universe could stem the impending tide. He embraces this reality by setting about truly fucking. The muscle memory of instinct takes over and his hips pound into the pliant flesh of his mate. He jackhammers his burning shaft into the clenching spasms of her tunnel, slapping his hips against her ass cheeks and mashing his balls into her precious nubbin. He roars his victorious assault in a primal bellow and pounds her cunt mercilessly. He takes his pleasure from her as his right, buries himself into her and jets his white-hot seed into her. In the throes of her own orgasm, she has no coherent thought but a primal part of her welcomes the throbbing manhood thrust into her and engulfs the flood of manly seed. Deeply satisfied at a prehistoric level, joy washes over her from the inside out. He could fuck her like this for days until her cunt was bruised and raw and she would thank him for it, begging for more. He continues to thrust into her long after the initial wave of pleasure burns itself out, his burning, hyper-sensitive dick grinding along the channel. The sloppy wetness of their conjoined genitals making lewd, obscene mockery of the tenderness and affection they feel for each other. Jon is lightheaded after the storm of his climax but still sitting up tall behind her, sorry now that he isn't in a better position to hold her and gaze into her adoring eyes. They collapse together on the bed. He is still atop her spooning in intimate fashion. "What just happened?" he breathes, incredulous. "I'm your bitch," she replies simply. "You just fucked the shit out of me." "Are you okay with that?" "Yeah. I think I am." She shudders in an aftershock. A warm, comforting glow suffuses her. She would give up mountains of intellectual, sterile victories for this feeling, this connection with him, the passion and emotions visible, raw, unrestrained. "Even a smart, intelligent, independent woman of the 21st century is okay with what just happened?" "I think she's dead. If being your bitch gets me fucked like that, makes you the kind of man that can force me to that? I'm in." Jon pulls apart from her enough to look in her eyes, searching for the truth of her statements, trying to assess her real meaning. He finds transparent need and vulnerability, love and truth. "But only here, please. Only here in the bedroom where we can let our passions and desire for one another express themselves. Outside, in the outside world, I still want my partner, my confidante, my friend. A strong, intelligent, independent woman capable of expressing her own needs and thoughts." "Jon?" Her turn to search his face for sincerity. He smiles at her before replying. "I love you. I love all of you. I love my bitch, yes, but I love my life partner also. Deal?" "Deal." Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 05 Author's Note: As always, reading the previous chapters will give you more background but this chapter is intended to stand on its own also. Feedback is appreciated. All characters involved in sexual situations are over 18. All rights reserved. ***** From the Cineplex restroom, Sue texts her friend: Sue: Help! Movie sucks. What now? Lynne:??? Sue: Movie I picked is awful. Lynne: So? Leave. Sue: I dragged Jon to see this thing, "stupid chick flick" he called it. Supposed to be a romantic evening. Lynne: 2 early 2 come home. Kiddos still up. Sue: Yup. Lynne: BMBJ Sue:? Lynne: Bad Movie Blow Job. If neither of you care about the movie but can't leave, spice it up by being naughty in the back row. Sue: I can't do that! Lynne: Sure you can. Be his little plaything. Rules of the BMBJ say you can't leave until one or both of you have cum. J Sue: I hate you. Lynne: Enjoy! Ttyl. Sue makes her way back into the dark theatre finding her husband digging in the bottom of the popcorn bucket for stray kernels, not even pretending to watch the angsty teens on screen blather about their horrible, love-starved lives. "Did I miss anything?" she whispers, snuggling in next to him. "Don't know," he glances up. "Probably not." "Look, I know 'chick flicks' aren't your thing. And this one is particularly bad..." "Yaw think?" Eye roll. "...but I really do appreciate you coming with me." She is clinging to his arm now, leaning over the armrest, brushing her breasts against his arm. Jon glances into her smoldering eyes before sneaking a glance around the dark room. Apparently most people had read the reviews and heeded them. The theatre is not crowded and there is no one close by to notice her inappropriate flirting, nor even the whispering. "Well, while there isn't much for me here on the screen, I do enjoy the company. And nothing beats fresh, theatre popcorn, either!" She gives him the smack on the arm that deserves and glances back at the weepy gal-pals projected before them. "What do you mean? The blonde has giant boobs; don't tell me you don't appreciate that!" "But I'm not supposed to notice things like that. That would be disrespecting the beautiful, independent woman I'm with." "But I bet my full-blooded, American man did notice." "Uh..." "Thank you for being respectful enough not to let on, though." "You're welcome. I try to strike a balance between being a full-blooded, American man and a modern, open-minded, American man in a committed relationship." "So, since the movie is so bad, you have my permission to look. You think those babes are fake?" After a brief glance over to make sure she isn't baiting an idealistic trap for him, Jon turns a discriminating eye to the screen. "Oh, yeah. But not as fake as her acting skills." "Hehe," she snickers, glancing around the darkened room again to ensure they aren't disturbing the few people still trying to follow the tortured storyline on-screen. "I, of course, still prefer your simply gorgeous, all-natural chest," he gallantly continues. "Bullshit," she hisses back. "Don't be a lying ass. She's got great tits and we both know it." "She ought to; she obviously paid enough for them." Sue stifles another giggle and presses her chest against his arm again. She recognizes that she is behaving like a silly school girl on a date with her jock boyfriend but she finds that she is suddenly enjoying the role. Having freedom to be politically INcorrect is oddly thrilling and she feels the rush of excitement just like she used to have all those years ago. She hopes that giving her polite, considerate husband the same freedom will likewise thrill him. "So which of the babes on the screen there has the better pair? " Jon is surprised to find himself comparing and commenting on women's breasts with his feminist spouse, but he relishes the opportunity to do so. Maybe there is something to her recent apologies and insistence that she has revised her opinions in respect to their private lives. "The blonde's are pretty impressive but have you noticed how the brunette's nips are always pointy?" "Mm-hm. I'd noticed that," Sue acknowledges, both disgusted at herself for treating the women in the movie as mere sex objects and privately, perversely thrilled to be sharing an inappropriately sexy moment with her husband. "They probably built points into her costumes." "Aw, man, don't go spoiling my adolescent fantasies that she is just perpetually aroused and her nipples stick out like that." "Sorry, my horny little boy; didn't mean to crush your dreams. My pointy tips are sticking out like that, though," she whispers, sitting up straight beside him and pushing her chest forward to prove the point (or "points" as the case may be). Inviting him to stare at her aroused nipples sends another flutter of excitement through her heart. I really am becoming more slutty for him, she thinks. And I like it. Mandy would be scandalized but Lynne would be proud of me. "Take your bra off," he demands. In for penny, in for a pound, she shrugs. Brazenly thrusting her chest even further forward, she reaches behind her back and under her blouse to unclasp her bra. Then she does that thing that women do, pulling her arms inside her shirt and wiggling around until she is free of the restriction. "Better?" she coos, letting the now obvious tips of her breasts tent out her silky shirt. "Very nice. Very, very nice." "Glad my middle-age boobs don't disappoint." "Too bad your shirt doesn't button in the front," he comments. "You'd make me unbutton it wouldn't you?" "I'd try." "I'd do it." "Really?" She glances around the quiet theatre. Nobody is paying them the slightest attention as their seats are very near the back of the almost empty theatre. "Only for you. It'd be hard and I'd be mortified but I would do it if you asked." "I'm starting to believe you really would. You really are trying to change your ways for me, aren't you?" "Lynn says that since I ask you not to look at other women's boobs, I have to be willing to show you mine whenever you like. It's only fair." "But you told me tonight, it's okay to look at the on-screen boobs." He nods back to the front of the theatre where Bodacious Blonde Betty and Pointy Tip Patricia are pouring out their true feelings to one another. They watch the posturing actresses for a few moments without paying much attention to the dialog. "The director was obviously a 'breast man', huh? Looks like the cameramen are playing 'Dueling Tit Shots,'" Jon snorts. "Sure seems that way," Sue laughs along. "And just because I gave temporary reprieve from the looking at other women's boobs rule, doesn't mean I'm going to renege on my commitment to give you rights over mine." Jon looks back to her with a smile. "I have 'rights' now? Doesn't that go against some feminist manifesto that you've been quoting to me for years?" "Well, yes, that's true. Just because you married me doesn't mean that you own me. But... if it is my choice and I choose to give you rights to my body because you married me, then, well, it is my choice, isn't it?" "I suppose. And that is the choice you are making?" Sue's heart flutters. This is it. He is not letting her gloss over this little point. Is she really committed to this and what it means in her life? With what she has seen in the last few weeks, how it seems that perhaps this path has pulled their marriage back from the very brink of disaster, how happy Jon has been and how happy, in fact, she has been to be "his"? It sure seems this is the path that she wants to take. "Yes, Jon. I am making this choice. When I married you, 'to have and to hold', I committed to not only save myself for you, but to give myself to you. I grant you full, complete and total access to my body. You can stare at and caress my boobs anytime you want for as long as you want until I'm old and shriveled and you don't want to anymore." "You better be careful there, missy. I might fall in love with you all over again." "Oh, I hope so," she smiles. The lighting changes dramatically in the room, distracting them both, as the scene changes to a darkened, romantic seduction scene. Bodacious Blonde Betty is getting into bed with the male lead, whatever his name is, and the audience is treated, of course, to an excellent side-boob shot. Jon gazes appreciatively and then deliberately looks back at the side of Sue's blouse, sitting next to him, in obvious comparison. "Okay, she sure has melons, but I so much prefer the natural movement of yours," he whispers. "Hmm," she purrs, shaking her shoulders ever so slightly to create some jiggle for him. Back on the screen, they catch a quick glimpse of the male lead's tight asscheeks as he moves over top of the object of his current affections. "Yum. Cute butt," Sue notes. "Really?" "Not as cute as yours, of course," she hastens to add. "No, of course not," he snickers, acknowledging the complete, blatant lie. "It is okay by me, by the way, for you to look at, appreciate, admire and lust after other guy's butts. I'm pretty confident that it is mine you'll be digging your nails into when we get home tonight." "Promises, promises," she giggles back, reaching into his lap and purposefully caressing the crotch of his pants. He settles back into his seat, spreading his legs to give his unusually flirty wife more room to play. "Somehow, this movie has gotten a little bit better." He watches, fascinated, as she unzips his jeans. Then he snickers at her fumbling attempts to extract his cock through the opening in his boxers. He watches the consternation on her face. He watches her jiggling boobs, unrestrained beneath the silky smoothness of her blouse. He watches her get more frustrated and embarrassed. "Here, let me help a bit," he says, slipping his semi-hard manhood out into the open air. "Now I know a little bit how you feel when I fumble with your bra clasp." "Thanks. Guess I need a little practice at that," she laughs with him, grateful that the fumbling mechanics of the act hasn't spoiled the mood. "Oh, that's something you can practice a lot more if you'd like," he answers. "What has gotten into you tonight? I have never seen you like this." "BMBJ." "What?" "Something else Lynne told me about. BMBJ. Bad movie blow job. I dragged you out to a bad movie that neither of us is actually interested in and so we can't leave until one or the other of us cums." "Ha," Jon snorts, too loud for the quiet scene taking place in the movie and both quickly glance around to make sure they haven't attracted any unwanted attention. "Great idea but I'm not sure it is really going to work. The armrests between us are way too high; you couldn't lean over far enough without it being really, really obvious what was going on." "Yeah, but..." she starts to reply. "And even me, as selfish as I am and anxious for you to complete the deed, even I wouldn't ask you to kneel on that floor." "Oh, yeah," she grimaces at the thought of any part of her except the soles of her shoes coming into contact with the sticky floor of the theatre. "BMHJ, then?" he offers. "It would be my pleasure, sir," she grins back. "Oh, no, the pleasure will be all mine." She begins lightly caressing his erect shaft, paying special attention to the sensitive head. "Mmm. That feels good," he whispers. "And so does this," he continues, reaching over and grabbing a handful of breast. It is not a caress or a fluttering, exploratory touch. It is a possessive, demanding grab; a clear statement that he took her at her word and considers her boobs to be his property to manhandle as he pleases. Sue's instinctive reaction, from years of feminist dogma, is indignation and a desire to protect "the ladies" from the inappropriate assault, but the "new, submissive Sue" quickly quells the urge to backhand him. She deliberately arches her back a little to thrust them out and invite more of the same. "Mmm, yeah, baby. You want to play? Feel me up good, stud." she invites. Jon stares at her, surprised. "Give this one some of that, too," she grins at him, jiggling the other breast, pleased to be able to prove her commitment and love to him. Jon stares at the wobbly form, shifting delightfully beneath the blouse, tracking the point of her nipple as it traces an erratic line in the fabric. "You don't have to be so gentle with them," she invites, "sometimes a girl needs a little rougher treatment." This admission surprises them both: Jon, that she actually wants such a thing, and Sue, that she voiced such a thought (which she has secretly had for years) out loud. Jon's cock twitches under Sue's gentle touch and she feels a slight gush of wetness between her legs. Jon takes advantage of her offering and rudely grabs her other breast, feeling the hefty smoothness of it in the circular motion of his palm before lifting and squeezing the entire breast in his hand. He completes his inspection with a quick pinch of her nipple between his thumb and index finger. He hears the sharp intake of her breath at his crude assault. You're just letting him! Right here in the theatre! Sue exalts to herself. Lynne is right; letting my man do whatever he wants to me is hot. "You can pinch harder than that," Sue goes all in, playing the slut for him. "If you want, I mean." She strokes his hard rod lovingly as he gazes lustfully into her eyes. He finds acceptance, commitment, desire - love - burning back at him from deep within her soul. Without breaking that intimate connection, his hands locate the erect points and he squeezes both nipples through the smooth fabric. Her eyes flutter half closed and she groans at the sensation. His, she thinks. I'm all his. "Harder," she hisses, need apparent in her voice. He obliges with a cruel tug and slight twist before his fingers slip away on the silky fabric. She gasps at the pain/pleasure and feels the warmth spike up again in her pussy. Again becoming aware of their surroundings, Jon looks around to ensure that no one has yet noticed their illicit behavior. Thankfully, the action on the screen has switched to something more lively and the louder soundtrack is covering their actions. "Finish me off so we can go someplace where I can suck and nibble on you properly," he whispers, his hunger for her apparent. "Yes, sir. You can do whatever you want to them." She quickens the pace of her strokes, eager to please him. "More gently for right now. Long strokes," he directs, laying back in the seat and letting her serve him. Sue is enjoying this tremendously. For so long, under Mandy's direction, their sex life has been focused on her, setting up a "superior woman" environment where his dedication to her pleasure "earned" him the right to be satisfied. The switch to sole concern for his pending satisfaction is refreshing and downright hot. "Mm, that's it. Good girl," he whispers, lost in the sensations she is giving him. Sue finds that even his condescension is arousing, touching a pool of submissive arousal deep within her. She likes being his good girl. "Little bit more now," he continues and she feels his cock swell a little more under her ministrations. "That's it, love. Right there. More. More." She recognizes the signs in her husband and brings her other hand into play, covering the knob of his prick, both to provide sensation to the sensitive head but also to catch the throbbing release she anticipates is moments away. She has no intention of adding to the stickiness of the theatre floor. He tenses, eyes closed, and gives himself over to her and the pleasure she gives him. It feels good to selfishly allow himself to be taken care of, with no thought or concern for her. Paradoxically, this makes him love her more and feel even more connected to her. She feels the throbs at the base of his shaft first as his sperm rockets up into her hand. The other hand continues to milk him, determined to provide the maximum amount of pleasure she can. She expertly grips the crown with one hand as the milky tribute gushes plentifully into her palm. She alternates between watching the fascinating spectacle of a spurting cock with the delirious beauty of satisfaction and release that washes over his face. "Ah, ah," he pants. "Just hold. Grip." She grips him tightly along the length, feeling the throbs and shudders that rock through him. Occasionally she pulses back, giving him a slight squeeze and release, prolonging his enjoyment as much as she can. "That was wonderful. Awesome." he breathes. "Thank you." "No, thank you, kind sir. I am here but to please you. What else can I do for your enjoyment?" she giggles, playfully shaking her boobs at him again so that they wobble lasciviously beneath her blouse. "Oh, I'm pretty well spent here. What can I do for you now?" She grins back at him, pleased at his concern for her, but determined to keep the focus on him. She stares him directly in the eye and brings her cum-covered palm to her mouth and takes a huge, obscene lick. "Mm. Thank you for giving me such a yummy snack now that all the popcorn is gone." Jon stares at her slack-jawed as she cleans her whole hand, chasing down errant drips between her fingers. Until very recently, she has expressed very little interest in swallowing his cum. Maybe she really has changed, he thinks. "I am so horny right now," she whispers. "My panties are just drenched." "What can I do for you?" he asks again. "Nothing. I'm so wound up I could probably get off on your fingers right here. But I don't want to. I want to be horny. Just to wallow in it. My need is so raw. I'm frustrated and need you. Oh, Jon, my pussy is so empty. I need you so bad. I want you to fuck me. I need to be fucked, hard." Mandy would be horrified; she preached that you should never let a man see your need, appear weak and need sexual fulfillment. That would be to let a man have power over you. "You're going to have to wait for that, babe. I'll bet you are just gushing between your legs. And you are just going to have to deal with it until we get home." Her need is so plain - eyes dilated, nostrils flared, her breath coming in short, panting gasps, the tension in her back that arches her chest forward. There is just a glow about her that radiates sexual hunger. Sorry, Mandy, dear. I want my man to see my need and take me. "Yeah, baby. I want you so much. I am so on edge. I want to ache for you. I love being horny for you. Just to wallow in it. My need is so raw. Make me want you all that much more. Make me." Jon leans over and kisses her panting lips lightly, barely grazing them and then pulling back, teasing. He does it again, his tongue licking out to tantalize her lips. She whines as the brief touch only fuels her desire without providing any concrete contact. He reaches down and presses his balled fist on the cushion of her theatre seat just barely brushing against the jeans seam in her crotch. Her hips rock forward almost involuntarily and press against the firm surface of his clenched hand. Almost before she realizes it, she is humping him. Shit, I am just a bitch in heat, she marvels at herself, incredulous at how much that thought excites her when it should repel. Jon marvels, too, watching the sexual dynamo his wife has become as she lewdly humps against his hand. He knows she likes firm pressure against her core; he is just stunned at the way she is displaying her desire so openly. He can see the arousal climbing higher in her and he watches the glow burn even brighter on her cheeks. Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 05 Abruptly, he pulls his hand away and Sue falls back into her seat, her legs splayed wide in an obscene invitation. Her body posture just begs a good fucking. If ever there was a "come-on" pose asking to be taken, this is it. She glares at him in her need, frustrated, angry, piqued. "Let's go," he says simply and stands up, tucking his not-yet-recovered dick back into his pants and zipping up. She scrambles up grabbing the empty soft drink cup and popcorn bucket and follows him down the aisle. They get relatively little notice from the few other theatre goers, apparently the plot line has picked up because those remaining actually seem to be watching at this point. Back in the more brightly lit lobby, Sue is immediately self-conscious of the movement of her braless tits, sure that the entire theatre going public is staring. Then she catches Jon's eye as he appreciates her and it doesn't matter. Her man is looking lustfully at her; he longs for her; he is proud of her, proud to be seen with her. He smiles at her as they make their way through the Friday night throng. Something must be playing that is better than the sad waste of cellulous (or bytes of video image or whatever movies are recorded in today) that they just left, given the number of teen girls blatantly flirting with their male counterparts. "I'm going to stop in the restroom," Sue says. "Again?" he asks, incredulous. "You just went." "Yeah, but I need to go again," she whines, dancing from foot to foot. "That Coke was huge." She nods toward the empty drink cup. More like a drink bucket actually. It is condescending and somewhat offensive that she feels like she has to justify herself. But then, again, in her hyper-aroused state, there is something sexy about it. "If you must," he sighs with exaggerated drama. "But under two conditions. First, you cannot touch yourself or masturbate in any way." Even though he says this quietly, Sue still blushes and looks around panic-stricken that someone may have heard his comment. She can't believe she is letting him dictate terms under which she can use the bathroom but in her horny state, it is somehow arousing to yield to his control. "And second," he continues, "you have to take your panties completely off and come back out here and give them to me." "What?" Sue is doubly scandalized. This is just going too far! But then, she remembers something Lynne told her, that sometimes you just have to let your husband push you into doing things you normally wouldn't do and find out that you really like it. She makes a conscious decision to submit. And then decides to up the ante. "Okay," she agrees, much to his surprise. "But I have a condition of my own." "Oh, really?" he smiles back at her, amazed that she has taken on this comfort-zone violating challenge and pleased at her flirty tone. "Yes. While I'm gone you have to figure out which of these vapid, hormone-crazed, teen bimbos has the best tits." "Seriously?" "That's my requirement. You have to look at all these boobs. Like that little babe over there with the pink fishnet over her halter top." Jon looks quizzically into the eyes of the woman he loves and expresses his doubt. "Are you sure about that?" "Yes. It is my request, no, my demand, that you look at every other woman's breasts in this lobby and be able to describe which ones you find the most attractive and why." "Yes, ma'am!" he responds enthusiastically, ready to take the chance that she really is serious. She returns a few minutes later, with a conspiratorial blush, embarrassed by the dance and wiggle taking place beneath her blouse as well as the slick glide between her legs. Maybe "going commando" has its advantages after all. She sidles up to him and hands him a wad of balled up cotton. He smiles lasciviously and accepts the gift, raising it to his nose and sniffing, all while watching the blushing acquiescence play across her face. "I love your smell," he whispers to her, causing her to blush even further. "You are so gross," she frowns at him, but in truth, his shocking behavior is only inflaming her further. She can again see the predator lurking behind his eyes. He wants her. He wants to take her and possess her and take outrageous liberties with her. And her body sings with inappropriate anticipation of the disgraceful violation of her personal boundaries she hopes he will take. She is in a very strange place for her - needy, hungry, desperate and loving it. Loving being dependent on him in her need. Loving deferring to him and building him up by conceding herself to him. She is raw and hungry and she is granting him the freedom to taunt her or frustrate her or reject her or take her, purely at his whim. She is relishing her own vulnerability and she is flush with excitement over his power and dominance over her. It reminds her of the early days of their relationship, when he was "older" and more experienced, when she was more naïve and vulnerable to his rejection. They risked so much emotionally finding each other and falling in love. Although she desperately wants to leave and go someplace private to take care of the needs in her, she is reluctant to give up this magical moment. She is enjoying the tension, the almost physical pain of her unsatisfied arousal. And she loves the wildly inappropriate bolstering of his base, male nature. "I held up my end of the bargain. How about you? Did you find the best tits in town? And you are not allowed to say mine; that's a cop out." Jon smiles at her. She knows him so well. "Okay, then, the best tits that are not mine to play with..." She grins back at his characterization, the continuation of their flirtatious game, as she watches him glance around the room. "... is harder than you might think, because nobody is just staying here, the whole crowd is flowing through. I've seen a great pair or two but they aren't here right now." "That's okay," Sue responds, stepping to his side and slightly behind him. This allows her to hold his arm somewhat possessively (she likes being close to him like this when she is feeling so aroused) and look the same way he is looking while providing some protective shielding so that her braless chest isn't quite so obvious. "What was it you liked about what you saw?" "Well, some of them are just shaped really nicely. And some have the cutest points..." "How about the woman over there in the purple?" "Wow. Um, yeah, wow. Those are big. But... I don't know." "I thought guys liked big boobs." "Yeah, but those are just... big. You know, it isn't like they are so big they sag or anything, they are nice and firm, but there is something about them that just looks unnatural. I like something more like those over there in the black." Sue is surprised and amused to hear Jon try to explain what he likes. Trying not to be too obvious, she glances around Jon's shoulder at the girl he has indicated. Interestingly, he is right. The woman's chest is not outlandishly large like the one she had picked. Oh, they are full and round but not oversized for her frame. Additionally, they do not appear to be boosted by a push-up, nor crammed into a cleavage display or anything so blatant as that. They are good, wholesome, all-American boobs tastefully accentuated by adequate support and a respectable shirt. Through it all though, it works. Sue would have to agree that the breasts on the young woman are, in fact, very attractive. "Or maybe even the girl over there in the white tank-top. I really like that, too." Sue is both surprised and not surprised by this choice. The girl in question, probably just eighteen, has obviously dressed for success this evening, if attracting every male eye in the room is the definition of success. She is fairly tall for her age and slim in an apparently healthy way that only teenagers can pull off. Her tits are actually pretty small (this is the surprising part to Sue) maybe a B cup on a good day but they are very perky (the not surprising part). Gravity has not had time to do any work on them apparently because they sit on her chest ridiculously high. And obviously point straight out. "You're really serious about this business, aren't you?" "We chauvinistic men take our boob-oogling very seriously," he quietly asserts. Now, Sue has never really been interested in other women in a sexual way but there is something intriguing about looking at women through her husband's eyes. She finds herself looking at women physically, looking for the things that she thinks he will find attractive, assessing whether the shape or the size or the projection of this girl's chest is more delectable than that woman's. Maybe it is just her current horniness, maybe it is just her desire to please her husband, but she finds it somewhat titillating. She hugs her husband's arm tighter as she glances surreptitiously around the crowded lobby looking for beautiful breasts to admire with her husband. "Ooh, honey," she snickers, catching sight of a newcomer jiggling her way towards them across the lobby. The redhead is on the prowl, her generous bosom apparently unfettered by any restriction beneath her silky top with its plunging neckline. There is more movement there than in a slo-mo action sequence on a Baywatch rerun. And the silky smoothness of the fabric caressing her sensitive tips must be pretty intense, too, given the state of the all-too-obvious effect on her. "That looks like a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen." "Not so sure she'd be too concerned if it did." "Is this lobby still rated PG-13 or did that change over when the second showings started?" They snicker and laugh together like newlyweds and try to be somewhat subtle in their survey of the hooterscape but still without missing anything. Sue finds it remarkably naughty and freeing to be rudely assessing and discussing the characteristics of other women's chests with her husband and strangely arousing. But probably not too surprising, given the state she is already in. "Oh, baby, I want you so bad; I can't wait anymore. Let's go," she requests. They hurry their way to the car, laughing and giggling at each other, just being silly. It is glorious and freeing and childish and fun all wrapped into one. "We can't go home yet; the kids will still be up," Sue frowns as Jon navigates the busy parking lot. "I know just the place," he smiles mischievously at her, turning onto the street. "Unbutton your pants." She just looks at him momentarily before shaking her head at his impulsive demands and the arrogance he shows that she will simply do his bidding, just because he tells her to. She complies though, unhooking the button on her Levi's and drawing the zipper down. "Are you wet?" he asks. "You crude, revolting man!" she retorts. "Of course I'm drenched and you know it!" "Get your finger wet and give me a taste." "Jon!" she is again scandalized by how crude he can be and she glances out the window as the car moves out of the parking lot, onto the service road. "Nobody can see; don't worry about it," he reassures her. She surprises herself by doing as he asks, bridging her hips up off the seat to give access, lightly caressing between her sensitive lips to wet her finger and then presenting it to him. He delicately licks her finger. "Mmm. You are hot," he remarks, savoring the taste like a fine wine. At a red light, he reaches over and grabs her breast again through the silky smoothness of her blouse. "Jon!" she admonishes pulling back and glancing out the windows. "Do I have rights or don't I?" "You do," she admits, "but here where everyone can see?" "I want everyone to know what I've got and they don't. I get to play with these fabulous breasts any time I want. You said so." "Pig," she mutters, knowing she should be scandalized but she can't help being a little turned on. She has always been somewhat proud of her full and firm breasts and his interest in them. Moments later he pulls in the parking lot beside his office. It is in a good, business neighborhood and reasonably well-lit. Jon stops the car in an isolated corner. "Noticed the other day that the security cams don't really cover this corner of the lot. Turns out to be a fantastically secluded spot to 'park.'" "I haven't 'parked' with a guy since high school," she snickers. She feels impetuous, sexy and excited. "Take off your pants and then climb over into the back," he instructs. She raises an eyebrow, the silent question obvious. He smiles, wondering truly how much he is going to get away with. He loves pushing her like this when she is horny; she is so much more willing to accept his outrageous suggestions. At least she was back in the day, in the early years of their relationship, when they were young, foolish, hormone-crazed and impetuous. "Because I want you to," he answers the unasked question. "Because I want to watch your naked ass as you climb over the seat." Well, she has explicitly invited him to express what he wants. And she is so horny she knows she will do anything for him. She wants to fire that passion in him, bring out the predator she saw the other day. She wants him to want her, to hunger after her in the same way that she is hungering after him. She blushes as she pushes her jeans down her legs. She feels exposed to him, not just because of her nakedness but because of her need. She knows she is conceding not only to his control and direction, but she knows that her heated libido is making her do things that she wouldn't normally. And that he knows it and is using it to manipulate her. It is what Mandy had always warned her about - giving the male the upper hand would lead to her subjugation. But she can't help herself and in this moment, she wants that. Over the last few weeks, she has grown to like being dominated by her man. It isn't like she is giving control to just any man, but to her man. And she knows him, trusts him, loves him. And she has found that giving up this level of control and trust to him, to submit to his dominance, is to grow close to him, is to be intimate with him, binds her not in subjugation to all men but binds her in love to her man. She gives it to him as a gift and he treats it as precious. With her jeans out of the way, the scent of her aroused body fills the confines of the car's interior. She knows she is in heat and that he knows it. She has every hope that he will take unfair advantage of her state of arousal. She agrees with his plan, trying to make love in the front seat of a car with bucket seats, gear shift, steering wheel etc. has always proved too cumbersome (not that sex in the back seat is a piece of cake) but getting out in the cold air and dashing to the back, slamming doors and such has always been a mood breaker. This is right, even as clumsy and awkward as she knows it will be. She smiles seductively at him as she climbs over and between the seats, fully aware of the show she will give him. She anticipates him taking some outrageous liberty during the process. She stops halfway, with her head on the backseat and her legs still in the front, unsure of exactly how to get all the way back without kicking him in the face. "Stuck?" "Well..." "Or do you just like sticking your naked ass in my face?" "Actually, I didn't want to kick you. But I'm glad you are enjoying the view." "Well, thank you. On both counts." She contorts her way through and draws her legs between the bucket seats and into the back. "Damn but you are gorgeous. I love seeing your bare butt stick up in the air like that. You have no idea what that does to me, babe." "I thought sure you were going to spank me." She knows his long-standing fascination with spanking, a little kink they have discussed but was never, ever a real possibility. She would have enlisted Mandy to roast his nuts on the barbeque if he had ever really attempted it. "Ooo, I sure thought about it... with your head down, ass up just primed for a couple of quick swats..." he grins at her wistfully. He is delighted that he can even approach the subject and he begins to understand just how far she has come that she would even bring it up, even acknowledge it. "You could have," she whispers in the quiet of the car. "Really?" he is awestruck. His heart melts at the thought of what she is offering, admitting to. "I want you so bad," she admits, vulnerable in her weakness. She is near tears at the betrayal of her ideals. But it is true nonetheless. She would have screamed and shrieked and kicked out. But she also knows now that she would have let him. It is a revelation to them both and they both wonder at what it really means. But it sure is going to be a helluva lot of fun finding out! "I want your cock. I want you to fill me up and take me and ravish me like you did the other night. I want to be 'yours' again. And if that means that my poor little bum has to take a couple of spanks... well, then it will." With a growl of animalistic passion, Jon scrambles over the back seat with a speed and grace that neither of them believed he possessed. Steering wheel? Shoulder belt? Center arm rest? Somehow none of it is a barrier holding him back from getting to the object of his desire. In moments he is clutching her naked body to him and pressing his lips to hers in a fashion befitting the backseat-of-the-car-make-out scene. All the unrestrained passion, all the fumbling, desperate clasping and groping of hormone-crazed teens can't compare with the lust and fervor with which they come together. Somehow between the passionate French kisses and the gripping clutching pawing of naked flesh, he is able to get his cock out of the confines of his pants and she finds the evidence of his ardor poised at the entrance to her almost painfully ravenous opening. A swirl of emotions battle for her attention - the setting sparks a flood of memories from her adolescence; she is delighted that she has been able to kindle the fire in this passionate predator, victorious in his claiming of her; she marvels at how completely turning herself over to him makes her want him so much more; completely letting down her guard and exposing her raw, unfiltered need is counterintuitively empowering; trusting him with her most precious and fragile secrets binds him to her. "Yes!" she gasps. "I need it so bad. I need you. I need you to fill me so completely I can't think of anything else." He presses forward and sinks awkwardly into her molten sex. Awkward because of the positioning, her head crammed up against the back passenger door, her leg splayed upward across the back of the seat, one foot in the rear window. In the cramped quarters, they are barely able to reach one another, but they manage. They make up for the difficult positions through sheer desire and zeal. "Oh, Jon!" she shrieks, so very desperate to feel his throbbing manhood pierce her. It is such ecstasy to feel him merge with her, to feel his obsession, his thirst, his lust. He thrusts hard against her, straining to press his shaft as deeply into her as he can. In turn, she strains to spread as wide as she can to accommodate him, craving the intimate contact of his pelvis to hers. They end in a contortionist's embrace, each somehow hugging the other's knee or thigh, cleaving to each other as their crotches rut and hump together. Their thrusting pounds their pelvic bones together in bruising, battering slaps. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Sue shouts in rhythm to their plunges, awash in the convulsions gripping her core. She feels as if she may break apart in sheer tension and release but if there were a way for him to pound her harder, she would gladly embrace it. Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 05 Jon is bellowing one loud, long and deep cry of pure hedonistic delight, rejoicing that his previous climax in the theatre has taken the edge off his physical response and allowed him to go longer than he might have otherwise but has done nothing to diminish the ardor and passionate desire he has for his wife. That he can express his delight in her in such a visceral and substantial carnal way is gratifying at a deeply instinctual level. Orgasm crashes into gut-wrenching orgasm for Sue and she feels swept up and away in a torrent of emotions and sensations, swimming in a sea of pounding, throbbing waves. Her anchor, her rock though is her man, her lover, her husband and she clings to him as the only steady and sure thing in a world of light and sound and spectacle. Eventually, they both come down from the explosive pleasure and find themselves cramping, contorted, sweaty and hoarse from their animalistic vocalizations. Their conjoined genitals are still throbbing and shuddering in electric aftershocks. Sue is the first to break out into laughter, although it is unclear whether she is overcome with pure joy in emotional release or awestruck at the ludicrous positions in which they find themselves. Whatever its source, it spreads quickly and Jon finds himself laughing right with her as they try unsuccessfully to extricate themselves from the tangle of arms, legs and twisted torsos. To do so while with electric aftershocks firing off in their raw nerve endings only adds to the ridiculousness. "Oh, my fucking gosh, Jon!" Sue gasps between gales of laughter. "What the hell was that?" "Only the best, fucking, back-seat sex ever!" he laughs back, staring deeply into her eyes. "I'm afraid you're going to have to get off me," Sue asks. "I think my neck is about to break." If getting into position was clumsy and ungainly, getting untangled and sitting up in the backseat is even more so. More giggles, blushes, bumps and apologies ensue as they somehow manage to disentangle themselves and end upright in their seats. The tight confines reek of cunt juice and sperm and sweat. Jon's still semi-erect cock flops about as Sue's completely naked body jiggles and glistens in the pink-tinted parking lot lights. "Shit, you look like such a tramp. Like you've really been well-fucked." Sue knows that she should be offended by that but she isn't. Without making the slightest attempt to cover up, she responds to him. "And you like that, don't you?" "Sure do. Man, you're hot!" "See what happens when you take control and take what you want." "See what happens when you let the man of the house take over?" She blushes at his frank assessment, but revels in the sheer debauchery of the moment. He gathers her into his arms. "Sit here in my lap; I want to suck on your breasts like I promised." "After all that? I might just be too sensitive for that right now..." "I don't care. You teased me with them back in the theatre. I like sucking on them and you said I have rights to them whenever I want." He smiles at her. "I want." She blushes under the truth of what he is asking of her. This is what she asked him to do - take advantage of her. And if she is honest with herself, she is flattered and a little intrigued that he is taking charge like this. "You have made such a gracious offer, the least I can do is accept it and take advantage of it," he grins. And then continues, "I know this is new to us and our relationship. And I'm grateful that you're trying to get us to a better place. I know it is not easy for you but I think it is working and I do truly appreciate it." She is touched that he recognizes and is willing to acknowledge her efforts; that he has accepted her offer and values the gift she has made. Her hope that their marriage can be saved is strengthened. She climbs onto his lap, letting her naked bum rest across his thighs and the leaking cum flowing from her bruised and ravished quim, leak out onto his leg. She turns toward him and draws her shoulders back, offering her naked breasts to him. He gently, almost reverently caresses the underside of her breasts. She watches him, watches the joy and wonder in his eyes, the delight in her shape, in her beauty. For too long, she has equated male appreciation of her physical form to be crude, chauvinistic and something to be avoided. Right here, right now, with his intense scrutiny of her womanly charms, it is suddenly touching, and intimate and beautiful again. This is part of her, too. Sure she wants him to admire and respect her independence and her intellect and her emotional bond with him. But she also gives him this - her body - which obviously holds such delight to him. This she can give him because she wants him to enjoy it, not because it is her duty to endure. "You really like my tits, don't you?" she asks softly, her tender tone juxtaposed against her crude language. "They are so lovely," he breathes adoringly. "More lovely than those other bodacious boobs we saw back in the theatre?" "More beautiful and perfect than any on the screen or in the lobby. Because they are yours. Because I love you and love doing this with you." And with that he leans in for a light kiss and gentle lick of her nipples. "I should get them out more often; make sure you get to enjoy them whenever you want." "I'd like that." As he suckles at her breast, she stretches her stiff muscles and massages her neck. "Maybe I'm a little stiff from what you put me through just a minute ago," she remarks casually, an aftershock trembling through her body at the memory. "Maybe I should take you home and give you a massage," he mumbles around a mouthful of breast. "I'd like that. But after you're done there. Take your time." She arches her back to thrust her chest forward more for his pleasure.