0 comments/  35885 views/  8 favorites

Better

By: Carmenica Diaz



'Angus, for Christ's sake! Can you get the file I asked for?' 

'That is the Miller file, Mister Broderick,' Angus said pointedly.

'Not the Miller file! The Milton file! I asked for the Milton file, now get it. You did bring it, didn't you?' Mister Broderick looked keenly at Angus as if he suspected him of purposely thwarting his plans.

'Of course, Mister Broderick. I'll get it immediately.' Angus hurried from the study, through the white French doors, past the pool and to the guest house where he was staying. 

I'm just a glorified secretary, he fumed silently, I might be called an Executive Assistant but I'm just a gopher! The bugger didn't say Milton -- he said Miller! The arrogant prick!

He rummaged in the box of files he had brought with him from the city and pulled the Milton file from its grasp. This is supposed to be a break, but Broderick works even harder at his holiday house than he does in the city!

Striding back to the house, Angus looked around at the sprawling grounds. Some holiday house, he thought, fifteen bedrooms, five car garage, a swimming pool, tennis courts and a private beach!

Although Angus had lived in America for almost a year, he had not quite become used to the ostentatious display of wealth.

As he walked through the house, he passed Shane Broderick, the son and heir. 'Good morning,' Angus said automatically.

Shane, looking him up and down, said 'hi' with a complete and apparent lack of interest.

Angus shrugged. I'm just the hired help, I suppose but how is that big lug ever going to run the Broderick empire? 

'Here's the file, Mister Broderick,' Angus said, placing it on the huge desk that Broderick favoured. He liked imposing furniture and Angus guessed it somehow compensated for his lack of height.

Broderick grunted and started pawing through it as the side door opened and Mrs Broderick entered. 'Good morning, darling,' she said, planting a kiss on her husband's bald head.

He grunted a reply and she smiled at Angus. 'Good morning, Angus. Was the guest house satisfactory?'

Satisfactory? It was bigger than his apartment! 'Yes,' he smiled, 'thank you Mrs Broderick.'

She nodded and turned to her husband, firmly removing the file from his grasp. 'We promised we would visit the Hamilton's for brunch, honey,' she said and he scowled.

'Do we have to? I have important…'

'Yes, we have to. Shane is ready and we can drive over now. Let Angus enjoy himself for a change. You can swim in the pool, Angus,' Mrs Broderick said with a smile 'or the beach?'

'I'll find something to do, Mrs Broderick,' Angus said gratefully.

'You can finish the financial analysis,' Mister Broderick snapped. 'I'll look at them when I get back from this stupid brunch!'

His heart sank but Angus forced a smile. "Of course, sir.' He scooped the files up and began to walk from the study. 

As he walked quickly, he heard Mrs Broderick say, 'you're too hard on that boy, you should let him relax.'

'I'm not paying him to relax!'

Angus almost threw the files into the pool as he stormed past but, thankfully, thought better of it.

Sighing, he sank into the easy chair next to the guest house windows and began calculating Return On Investment ratios. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Broderick's climb into the Mercedes and drive down the sweeping driveway, the electric gates opening with an audible hum.

'Bugger it!' Angus dropped the file onto the floor and stood. 'I'm going for a walk. I deserve some relaxation!'

Hands in pockets, Angus walked down the graceful lawns to the strip of sand that was the Broderick private beach and began to idly walk close to the water. Yachts were anchored off shore and he smiled as he saw some couples rowing together, laughter and giggles floating over the water.

America was larger than life in everything, so big, bright and powerful compared to his dim life in Edinburgh. After his parents had been killed in a terrific motor accident, Angus had fled to America to begin a new life.

Working for Broderick was difficult and frustrating but the salary was excellent and gave him a reason for existing.

Looking up, he realised he had walked through the gate that isolated the Broderick beach from the neighbours and, in fact, he had walked through that beach and was now near the public promenade.

The promenade was crowded and Angus sauntered along, feeling the sun on his face and beginning to feel the stress and the tension begin to leave his shoulders.

He sat on a small wall on the edge of the beach and watched the families and lovers playing in the sun. Seagulls flew low and concluded Angus had no food so flew away.

Lost in thought, he looked around, smiling at the children who ran excitedly onto the sand, the teen age boys on skateboards and the teen age girls preening and exhibiting themselves.

A thin old man with a long scraggly grey beard and equally long hair caught his attention. The man, obviously homeless was carefully sorting through the garbage cans and Angus immediately felt concerned for him.

Everyone else ignored the old man and Angus saw he was taking discarded bottles and putting them in a sack he carried. He carefully examined each bottle, discarding some but the majority found their way into the bag.

'What on earth is he going to do with those?' Angus murmured. 'Sell them for cash or something?' He may have been an economist but Angus was certainly unsure and inexperienced in the ways of the homeless.

The old man moved to the next garbage bin, stumbled a little and gripped the can for support. As Angus watched, the old man's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed onto the boardwalk in a crumpled heap. people glanced at him but ignored him as Angus leapt to his feet and dashed over.

The old man's eyes fluttered open and Angus asked, 'are you all right?' He smiled. 'That's a bloody stupid question, isn't it? Can you get up?' Angus slipped his arm under the old man's and gently helped him to his feet.

'My bag!' the old man called in a voice that sounded like the rumbling of an earthquake.

Angus bent down and picked it up, the bottles rattling together. 'I have it. Come over here and sit down.' He guided the old man to the wall and helped him sit. 'When did you last eat?' 

The old man appeared to try to focus on him and shrugged. 'I'll get you something,' Angus said, looking around and, spying a hot-dog stand dashed over and bought two hot-dogs. 'Here you go,' he said, offering it to the man who snatched it and wolfed it down. 'You were hungry, weren't you?' Angus smiled. 'here, have this one as well.'

The old man snatched it and swallowed it in one easy motion. 'Feeling better?'

The old man examined him with the palest eyes Angus had ever seen and nodded.

'Good,' Angus smiled, 'here's your bag.'

'Thank you,' the old man said in a clear and strong voice. 'How can I repay you?' he asked in an old fashioned way and Angus brushed the question away.

'No need. I'm just glad you're better. Make sure you eat, won't you?' Angus said. 'Bye.' 

Angus strolled off, turned a corner, and blinked in surprise when he saw the old man calmly seated on a bench outside the boat shop.

'I asked how I could repay you,' the old man said in that distinctive rumbling voice.

'How…how did you…'

'No matter. It is what I do,' the old man said calmly. 'Sit with me?'

'It must be the heat,' Angus said, sitting, 'the sun's bent my mind.'

'The sun does no bending,' the old man said with a smile, his eyes boring into Angus. 'You are a kind man, Angus McLeod.'

Angus gawked at him. 'How…'

'No one stopped to help an old man, no one but you. The human race should be glad you exist.'

Angus shook his head. 'I'm going insane,' he murmured.

'No, do not fear,' the old man said seriously, 'your mind is sharp and clear. Let us talk.'

'Talk?' Angus studied the man who appeared to becoming younger by the minute.

'Yes. Let us go somewhere private.' 

In an instant, Angus found himself seated on a log with the old man on a beach of white sand, coconut palms lined the land behind them and the sea was a clear and bright blue. 

'Cripes! Where the bloody hell are we?' Angus stood up and desperately looked around but the beach was deserted.

'An uninhabited Pacific island I'm quite fond of,' the man said equally. 'I am Giemsa, tester of the faith.'

Angus stared at Giemsa who now appeared to be younger, his beard was receding as was his hair and his clothes were becoming finer and richer.

'Tester?'

'I test the kindness and love of humans. If they pass the test, the race becomes closer to peace and enlightenment.'

'If they fail?'

'Earthquakes, storms, fires -- whatever I feel is necessary to educate.'

'Punish you mean.'

Giemsa shrugged. 'You can interpret many ways if you choose.'

'You test the human race?' Angus looked around, wondering if he had inadvertently ingested one of those hallucinogenic drugs he had heard about at university. 'Have we ever passed?'

Giemsa shook his head sadly. 'No but there have always been individuals who have continued to give hope. But, no matter. How can I reward you?'

'Reward? Me? For what? Buying you a hot-dog? Don't be silly. Can you get me back to…'

'The Broderick house?' Giemsa smiled at the shocked expression that flooded Angus' face. 'Yes, I can. Would you like me to punish them? The man Broderick makes your life a misery, does he not?'

'Yes but that's just the way he is…'

'I can arrange for a terrible disease. Perhaps he could go blind…'

'No,' laughed Angus, not really believing Giemsa. 'No, don't do anything.'

'Mrs Broderick? She seems unhappy with her life. I could end it…'

'No, please, don't do anything!'

'Shane is arrogant and conceited, perhaps I could…'

'Please, no. It's not their fault they are that way and they are kind to me in their own way. They don't know any different.'

Giemsa smiled warmly. 'You are a kind person Angus McLeod. I can see you do not believe me but no matter. If you could wish for something, what would it be?'

Angus laughed loudly. 'You're offering me wishes? Are you a genie?'

Giemsa appeared puzzled. 'Genie? No, I am Giemsa and I am offering you a reward, just one.'

The analytical part of Angus took over and he thought deeply. 'I don't think just one thing can ever improve things. There's that old story. A man is offered three wishes and he immediately wishes for a million dollars. Poof! His bank account has a million. He then wishes for a Rolls Royce…'

'Rolls Royce?'

'It's a car, a very good car. Poof! The car is parked in front of him and then he wishes to be irresistible to women. Poof! He's turned into a box of chocolates.'

Angus laughed and Giemsa smiled. 'You do not wish to be chocolates?'

'No, of course not. It's just so difficult to accurately decide what one wants so if this wish of yours was real, I would simply wish that things were better.'

'Better? It is done. Thank you, Angus McLeod.'

There was a flash and when Angus opened his eyes, he was staring at the ceiling of the guesthouse. It was a dream, he thought, but it was so real. I must have dozed off here. There was no walk, no old man. But it was so real.

Angus smiled wryly, looked down as he prepared to get up from the bed and screamed! The scream, a very feminine scream of horror hung in the room as he -- she- examined herself! Breasts! Angus mentally screamed, I have breasts!

He scrambled to the mirror in a mad rush and stared at the reflection. A beautiful young woman with dark curly shoulder length hair stared back, her eyes wide with fear and horror.

'Oh my god!' he said aloud and stopped at the sound of the female voice. His voice, a female's voice! 'I'm a woman,' he said softly, 'Giemsa was real! But, how is this better?'

Slowly, he/she turned and examined the image. Dressed in a knee high black skirt, a business like blouse, it was the epitome of an efficient business woman.

Frantically, he bent and pulled the hem of the skirt up, long red painted fingernails snagging the skirts fawn lining and he stared at his smooth crotch covered by cream lace knickers and Nero pantyhose. 

Suddenly weak, he collapsed back onto the bed, staring vacantly into space, his head spinning as he cupped the large breasts attached to his chest through the blouse.

It was all disconcertingly real but at the same time familiar!

Unsteadily, he managed to stand and it wasn't until he had walked across the room that he realised he was walking in high heels with apparent ease and familiarity.

'How do I explain this?' he whispered, staring at that strange face in the mirror.

The sound of the gates opening and the Mercedes coming up the driveway brought him back to reality.

What will they say? Should I run away? Run to where? How?

'They'll throw me out,' he gasped in panic in that unfamiliar and high voice but, he noticed, still with his -- Angus' - soft Scottish brogue. 'I'll be homeless with no identification, nothing!' 

As he said it, his eyes fell on a black leather handbag on the dresser and he picked it up. Rummaging through it he found a brush, comb, compact, tampons, small perfume atomiser, keys, address book and a lot of other female paraphernalia as well as a small purse. With trembling hands, he opened it and removed the credit cards.

'Oh my god,' he breathed when he saw the name on the cards was Alice J. McLeod. Alice was his late mother's name and he frantically rifled through the purse but all forms of identification were in the name of Alice McLeod!

'I'm Alice Jennifer McLeod,' he said weakly, sitting down again. 'Alice!'

Another thought occurred to him.

He opened the doors to the wardrobe next and found female clothes. There were far more clothes hanging than he, Angus, had brought plus an extra suitcase. The bathroom had cosmetics scattered over the bench and a hair dryer hung over the towel rail.

Staring at his reflection, he was shocked when his fingers, acting on their own volition, picked up a tube of lip gloss and expertly applied it to his lips. As he blotted them, he stared awestruck at his reflection. The habits are there, I'm becoming a woman!

Without thinking, he pulled his skirt up, knickers and hose down so he could sit on the toilet. As he used the toilet, he smiled wryly, despite the overwhelming fear. 'I am already a woman!'

After adjusting his clothing, checking his face, Alice walked back into the living room of the guesthouse.

'I must still be employed by the Broderick's,' he said, 'I must be! If this is real, the world has changed around me, if this is…' His mind reeled and Angus, now Alice, stared through the window and wondered how Mister and Mrs Broderick, together with their son Shane, would now accept him -- her! 'If this is magic,' he concluded, 'they won't be astounded, they'll accept me.'

You're going to walk up there and just smile? Are you insane!

What choice do I have?

Alice picked up the file and the R.O.I. calculations. Taking a deep breath, adjusting her hair, Alice walked through the door and up the path towards the house, her heels clicking on the path. 

Her entire body felt awkward but, increasingly familiar although the altered centre of gravity was disconcerting as was the constant pulling of the bra strap. Bra strap! I'm wearing a bra!

But you need to, you are a big girl.

I'm wearing a bra!

Why am I so calm? I should be going around the twist now! Why so calm?

It occurred to him that whatever magic had been used - and he found it strange he so freely accepted that, indeed, magic had been used -- it must also make him accept the changes as well as placing the habits, behaviours and skills within him.

'Good morning, Alice,' a deep voice said and Alice whirled to find Shane smiling at her.

'Ah…good morning, Shane,' Alice said carefully, wondering why Shane was so polite. It's because you're a girl!

'Dad's in the study. You two workaholics should take some time off.'

Two workaholics? What does he say to that?

'Uh…I agree but tell your father,' Alice said almost cheekily and was surprised when Shane laughed.

'I just might,' he said with a wry grin. 'We need to spend some time together,' he suddenly whispered and Alice blinked.

Thankfully, Mrs Broderick emerged with a tray with a coffee pot and cups on it. 'Alice, good morning! Did you sleep well?'

'Very well, thank you,' Alice said.

'You look wonderful. You look very nice today. Doesn't she Shane?' she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

God! She's trying to set us up!

Immediately after recognising Mrs Broderick's intentions, Alice wondered when she, the old Angus, became so perceptive. When the magic kicked in, I suppose, when I became a girl!

'Yes,' Shane said, his eyes travelling up and down Alice, 'very nice.' He smiled at Alice who felt her face grow hot.

'I'll take the coffee in,' Mrs Broderick said and Alice opened the study door for her. 'Some coffee, darling?' Mrs Broderick sang and Alice nearly fell over when she saw that Mister Broderick smiled back. It was a bright and cheerful smile, not the half scowl the old Mister Broderick claimed as a smile.

'Excellent,' he beamed and then smiled even more broadly on Alice. 'Good morning, Alice.'

'Good morning, Mister Broderick…'

'Alice,' he cut in, 'Tony, remember? Call me Tony, okay?'

'Well, yes,' Alice said weakly, 'if you insist.'

'I insist. Now,' he said, eyes falling on the folder in Alice's hands, 'don't tell me you've been working? I thought we were going to relax?'

'I just…ah…ran over…some figures…'

'No shop talk today,' Tony declared, 'right Emily?' he said to his wife.

'Absolutely,' she agreed. 'I've made some tea for you, Alice. I know you don't like coffee.'

Mrs Broderick making me tea? Mister Broderick -- no, Tony! -- bright and happy?

'Ah…thank you…Emily.'

'Why don't you and Shane take the boat out?' Tony said with a small wink in Emily's direction

'Boat?' Alice said feebly. What was going on?

Apart from being transformed into a woman, you mean?

'It's beautiful on the bay,' Emily said. 'You two could swim and catch up.' There was that twinkle again, Mrs Broderick knows something.

'Great idea,' Tony enthusiastically agreed.. 

'I'll tell Bettina to prepare a small picnic for you.'

They beamed at her and Alice swallowed and forced a smile to her new face. 'It is lovely…'

The door opened and Shane strolled in. 'We were just saying,' Emily said, 'that you and Alice should take the boat out.'

'Great,' Shane said, smiling at Alice.

He is cute…wait! What in the hell is going on?

The three of them were looking at Alice and she suddenly felt obvious but, at the same time, surreal, as if she was in the midst of a dream. 'I'll get changed then,' Alice said softly, trying to smile, trying to appear normal. Normal!

'I'll wait,' Shane said with another warm smile and Alice fled to the safety of the guesthouse.

Sinking onto the bed, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror and sighed. I'm changing, I can't help it. In fact, Alice suddenly realised, she had almost become used to this new body.

Looking up at the ceiling, she said softly, 'Giemsa, can you hear me?' Although feeling a little strange at speaking to nothing, calling on a mystical being, Alice preserved. 'Giemsa? Please, change it all back! This isn't better!'


Better?



The sexy, mature brunette moaned in abject pleasure as this over-inked, rather bored looking muscle man pounded his Viagra-fueled member in and out of her well-shaven pussy hole. It didn't matter that it was all staged, and that once it was over, they'd both separate and act as if they'd just returned from having their taxes done. It was certainly doing the job for me, and I moved my lubricated palm up and down my stiff cock while I watched them go at it on the computer screen.

I'd been at one of my marathon masturbation sessions for over an hour, intending on making it last for some time yet. Jacking off using lube to slicken up the friction certainly aided in my ability to go for quite a while. The wife was away for a few hours, so I was taking advantage of the time alone to exercise possibly my favorite - and I daresay most men's favorite - hobby. It's been long enough ago that I can't remember how many years I've been stroking my stiff cock for my own pleasure, but I've been at it off and on for the greater majority of my life, and likely will continue doing so until age and/or health makes it impossible to get hard enough to make it worthwhile.

Anyhow, I was at the computer again in my usual computer attire - nothing, as if you hadn't already guessed - and it was feeling pretty fucking good, while I watched movies of people fucking, gazed at pictures of primarily women in various stages of undress, and read stories about folks making their own fun together. My right hand steadily and deliberately worked my wanting erection, the other hand gently caressed my smooth-shaven balls. The trick gets to be having control enough to stay on the high plateau without taking it too far and accidentally cumming, thus ending the session. It's the one thing I think most guys envy women: that ability to cum and cum and cum, with little to no affect on their arousal. Still, after all this time, I was pretty good at keeping that edge, and had been there for quite a while. My pre-cum was oozing, just aiding the lube when it started to dry out, so that just helped keep me going.

Muscle bound pulled out finally to shoot his load all over the brunette's pussy - one of my favorites, I don't know why they shoot on the girls' stomachs, when it looks so much better on their cunts - and I took my fingers away from my balls to click on another vid when I heard:

"Can I ask you a question?"

Holy fuck! She was home? Sonofabitch! I suddenly felt my stomach drop a mile, and my heart pounded harder than ever. My face started to feel hot and I felt like I was thirteen years old, getting caught doing what I was doing by my mother.

Now, my wife knows I jerk off. You don't stay married to a person for better than fifteen years and not learn at least a few little tidbits like that. She's told me she's okay with it, even though at times she feels inadequate, that she thinks I'm looking at porn because I'm not interested in her anymore, that I'm looking for someone more... perfect, I guess we'll say. I try to assure her otherwise, but I often feel like I'm talking to a wall at those times.

So, I turned from the screen, hiding my lubricated hand around one thigh, feeling my erection shrinking by the second.

"Uh, sure. Whattya want?" my voice quavered. I was nervous, as you can imagine. She didn't look pissed, but it's embarrassing to be caught masturbating, regardless if you know your spouse is alright with the notion.

She stepped into the room, saying, "I know I've asked you this before, and I know you love me - at least I hope you still do - but why do you do that so often?"

Fuck. I hate it when she wants to get all fucking serious. My animal brain was pretty much taking control of most everything, and here she wants me to explain myself. Shit.

My lube-coated cock now lay in its normal flaccid state - about two inches or so of not-so-impressive manhood (grower, not "show"-er) - and I was feeling pretty exposed, as the wife was completely clothed. She looked good to me, but it was going to take some pretty fancy tap dancing to satisfy her at a time like this, and just professing my attraction to her wasn't going to do the trick.

"Uh... well..." The back of my lube-covered hand lay like a chunk of lead against my leg. I really would have liked to wash off before starting this, but I knew that hand wasn't in the cards this time around.

I stopped, closed my eyes, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When I opened my eyes, I noted a slight hint of amusement at my discomfort on the wife's face. Still, she wasn't going to let me off the hook. She wanted an answer to her question, and I wasn't going to weasel out of it.

"Okay, you know I do this, just as I know why you have the silver bullet in your nightstand drawer. We both get urges, and they don't always correspond time-wise with the other's. Granted, chances are you'd have a better chance of finding me in the mood when you are than I am having the same luck, but nevertheless, there it is. Besides, there are the times where you're asleep, and I'm in need of some playtime. I'm not about to try to wake you, because it's going to take so long to warm you up, that by the time I've gone through the effort to get you going, I'll likely be so frustrated - and not in a sexual way - that I'd be out of the mood.

"So, there's the timing thing, and there's the warm-up deal on your part. You can't deny that it takes a hell of a lot of work to get you ready when you aren't really up for it." She nodded, acquiescing to my point. "So, at those times, it's best for me just to take matters into my own hands. I enjoy it better when you take part, but it isn't always feasible.

"And I think foremost there's the fact that when it's just me and mine, there aren't any expectations. While it's a lot of fun to play with someone else, when you have that other person involved, in the back of your mind, you're thinking about how they're going to react to what you're doing. You try to take their pleasure into account, and attempt to make it as good for them as it is for you. There's a lot more work involved. When you and I are playing, I try to make sure what we're doing is fun for you, too. There's a certain pleasure and satisfaction in knowing you've managed to accomplish that, but it really can be work. And one thing a guy my age doesn't need more of, it's performance anxiety issues." 

A little clarification: I've had difficulties of late - occasionally, mind you, not constantly - cumming while in the wife. I think a lot of it's age and sleep deprivation. I've seldom had trouble getting hard - A regular regimen of masturbation has kept E.D. at bay, so far - but I know she feels it reflects on her when I'm unable to get over the hump. I have to assure her it feels incredible, regardless, but if she feels like she hasn't managed to make me feel good enough to cum, she feels bad. Sort of like I feel sometimes when I cum, but she doesn't. 

"Then, of course, there's the matter of what I'm often viewing while I'm having my playtime here at the computer. I know you feel like you don't measure up, that somehow, I'm trying to find a woman that better fits some ideal of what a woman's supposed look like and act like. I won't lie to you, I do look at pictures of women who are shaped differently from you..." I was being politic here. I certainly didn't want to come right out and say "better looking." She knew and I knew that she wasn't supermodel material, any more than I am, but there are so many hard-bodied women having their nude figures posted out there, it's impossible to avoid seeing them when you start looking at porn. I continued, "...but to say I'm unhappy with you couldn't be farther from the truth. The women in the magazines and in the pictures and the movies are all nice to look at, but they aren't real. Sure, they might be to somebody, but not me. I chose you, and you most definitely are real. I may play and look, but that's all I'm really doing. There are no plans whatsoever in my mind about finding a replacement. I love you and most times I'm doing what you caught me doing, I'm wishing you were at least helping, because it always feels better when you do."

I stopped talking, hoping I'd made my case and that I'd satisfied her curiosity, instead of just driving a few more nails in whatever coffin might be lurking in the background. She stood there for a minute, apparently pondering what I'd just said. Then, after a rather nerve-wracking time for me, she made the few steps across the room to where I sat, then knelt in front of my chair. When she looked back up at me, she had a wry smile on her face, and when I saw her reach up and felt her fingers start to caress my balls, I moaned and smiled, knowing I was okay.

"Would you like some help now, then, naughty man?" she said huskily, with a sultry yet playful look in her eye, making my cock start to come back to life.

"You bet I would," I replied, relieved and aroused that I must have debated my side of the argument well enough for her to not be egregiously pissed at me.

Her fingers left my balls briefly, but that was so she could reach for the hem of her top and slick it off, giving me an incredible view of her luscious brassiere-clad breasts. 

"How about it? On or off?" she asked, knowing what I was going to say.

"Off," I managed to croak. I was getting really hot now, and my cock was awakening very steadily. It'd been some time since she'd been this playful. I'd been initiating sex most every time for the last few years, and to be honest, I was starting to feel like I didn't measure up that much, anymore, either.

She leaned forward, her head laying on my thigh, exposing the strap of her bra to me. "It's all yours, baby," she said. I could feel her breath lightly on my balls, and it just fueled my fire even more.

With my left (un-lubed) hand, I reached over and deftly unclipped her bra strap, watched eagerly as she leaned back and shrugged the shoulder straps off, then pulled the garment away from where the weight of her breasts held it on. 

"Better?" she asked with a grin. I was now stiff and ready once more. I simply nodded in response.

Did I say stiff and ready? I think if anything, I was more ready now than I had been earlier. I certainly felt hornier than I was when I was doing myself, by myself. It often takes a bit of encouragement to get me hard anymore, and when I say encouragement, I'm talking physical stimulation. This woman can still get me hard without touching me. I think that says a lot about how I still feel about her.

"Good," she said, smiling warmly, raising both hands to fondle my balls again.

Unable to hold back a huge grin of my own, I reached for the lube bottle and squeezed a little bit in my already lubricated hand. The stuff already there had gotten kind of dry and sticky, so it needed a tiny boost to do the job.

With her fingers tickling my balls, I couldn't hold back the moan that came to my lips when I started stroking myself again. Between the respite as well as the tease I'd received after my explanation, I was way more sensitive than I had been. Besides, aside from a brief, smiling glance at that initial moan, her gaze didn't leave my hard-on while I masturbated. There was a delight and hunger on her face that just heightened the whole experience for me. I had no idea what would follow once I came, but I sure as hell wasn't going to dwell on it, at least until I'd managed to take advantage of the play she was offering me at the moment.

I continued jerking my cock, making no bones about the fact that I was watching her lovely D cups jiggle and bounce as she helped me along. My moans were constant. I've been trying lately not to hold back making sounds while I'm cumming. It does enhance the whole encounter, but all those years growing up with my parents' room right across the hall from mine conditioned me well, so I have to consciously remind myself to let go.

And I wasn't being quiet, either. I let my hand travel up and back on my cock while her fingers danced over me, making as much noise as I wanted. Considering my earlier session, as well as the help I was receiving, it was only a few minutes before I could feel the point of no return inching closer.

She caught on to the fact and just nudged me further in the right direction. "Cum for me, baby. Cover me with that beautiful cum. I love you. Show me how much you love me." She went on in that vein for a while, just making it harder to keep the orgasm from washing over me and making this whole scene end too soon. It was so arousing to hear her talk the least bit naughty. Not that she speaks like a nun or anything - she does enjoy sexual innuendo and such - but she's admitted that she usually feels pretty silly "talking dirty." I've assured her again and again that out of context, she's right, it would sound really goofy, but in the right situation, it's exactly what's needed.

And what she was saying was doing the trick. I felt my orgasm come barreling up on me, and my voice went from an insistent moan to a roar as I felt my cum explode from the tip of my cock. It went everywhere, and in this case, everywhere meant all over my wife's face and tits. By the time I was finished, she was well-coated in my jizz. She had cum in her hair and running down one cheek, but the majority stuck to her throat and on her chest. My god, she looked sexy. It was over way, way too soon, but as brief as it was, it was in-fucking-credible!

She simply leaned in close to catch anything that might drip as my hand slowed its pace. Then when I stopped stroking altogether, she sat back with a grin, looking over my work and asked, "Boy, I guess you really do like me, huh?"

I leaned back in my chair and panted, "You have no idea." This elicited a delighted giggle.

For a minute or so, I sat back and caught my breath, just looking at the gorgeous sight before me. Finally, I sat up a little and asked, "So, is there anything I can help you with?"

She just shrugged. "No. I'm just glad I could help you out. I understand you a little better. That's enough for now. Trust me, I'll let you know when you can help me next."

I could hardly wait.

Before she got up, she stretched herself up to kiss me, an act I was eager and willing to partake of. After how good she'd made me feel, it was the least I could do.

She held her hand out for me to help her to her feet, so I took it in my left and did that much for her. 

"Thank you, baby," she said as she sashayed - topless - from the room, making me feel how lucky a guy I was to have a woman like her in my life.