Chapter 2
BY EIGHT O'CLOCK I WAS ON PINS AND needles. He had watched one of his favorite TV programs, looking at a news magazine during the commercials. He stood up and stretched and went into the bedroom. He always undressed first. I picked up the magazine, started to put it in the magazine rack. Another publication that had evidently been drawing most of his attention-seeing that it was a girlie piece-was neatly in the center fold of the news magazine.
I looked at it, frowning. All kinds of nearly-nude models were pictured there, in various provocative poses. I didn't know he even bought such books! Did he need this kind of stimulation on the nights he played around with me? Was I that unattractive?
I realized, of course, that most men enjoyed nudie books, but why was John so secretive about it? Sounded like a little-boy trick, making me think he was catching up on world events, and just before he had decided to give me a treat.
For a moment I almost hated him. I wouldn't have cared if he had girlie magazines around openly, as many husbands did. Some wives found them interesting, too. I often glanced over the men's section of magazines at the supermarket, realizing now, after that revealing conversation with Pally, that I found some of the models physically appealing. I had always considered this quirk just idle curiosity.
And I noticed that recently many of the models weren't so skinny, a few being nearly as plump as I was. Anyway, I had titties as large as the best of them, and I didn't sag, either. But I didn't look glamorous, and never would.
I placed the girlie magazine back inside the news publication and slid them into the rack. Let him have his little sexy secrets! I had one, too. If he wouldn't give me the deep thrusts I craved, I now had a way of getting them. I'd show him a thing or two.
In a few moments I brightened. After all, tonight was the night. Maybe I could coax him into a new variation. Maybe a little boldness on my part would help the cause.
John came out of the bedroom just about on schedule, wearing his summer-weight robe, and of course, pajamas. Why couldn't he be naked underneath just once?
"Be out in a minute, honey," I said, cheerfully, heading for the boudoir. He smiled and winked.
I didn't close the bedroom door entirely. I wanted to see if he'd dig out that girlie magazine while I changed. I undressed quickly, putting on my standard attire for the occasion-a rather sheer pink wrapper and matching lace-bordered panties. I brushed my hair and freshened my make-up, dabbing cologne here and there.
I peeked out into the living room. He was on the sofa, where we always started, and he was reading something. I couldn't tell what. Ten to one he had that girlie thing again.
Part of my job was to set the stage, leave one lamp burning beside the bed, see that the drapes were pulled. I stepped into the bathroom and performed certain intimate duties that would keep me fresh and dainty.
I came out more quietly than usual, and he closed the magazine. It was the same pair, but of course he hid the girlie bit and this time placed them in the rack himself. I swung around the end of the sofa. One lamp glowed here, too. Made a rather cozy setting for dalliance, at that.
He looked me up and down and smiled. My titties pushed the wrapper way out in front, naturally, and his eyes fastened there. I will say this for John, he was a real boobie man, and I always enjoyed that part of it. I sat down at his left, of course. The wrapper enhanced the contours of my thighs, my breasts. And the frilly panty did things for my pussy and hips.
"Have an interesting day, honey?" he murmured, sliding his left arm around my shoulders. It was a pat question, and I was supposed to say something about what I'd done around the house. I decided to change things slightly.
"Yes, I did," I answered. "Sally was over and we had a very interesting conversation."
He breathed on my throat and opened the wrapper at my breasts. I knew he liked to look at Sally; all men did. He showed some interest.
"What'd you talk about?"
"Sex."
"Really? Do young married girls compare notes?"
I laughed. "It was just general."
His right hand moved in on my titties; he ran his fingers down the slopes, in between and then underneath, hefting each one gently, lingeringly.
"I suppose Sally and Ed do it old-fashioned."
I was surprised that he would mention it so clearly. Generally he didn't talk much when he was playing with my body.
"Evidently," I answered, enjoying the awakening tingles of desire. Even if what he was doing was routine, I still liked to have my boobies fondled. As I said before, he was very good in this department.
He might be very surprised if he knew just what we had talked about. He considered me more naive than I actually was, even though I had grown up in a small town. I read a lot. I might be lacking in experience, but I was no cloistered virgin.
As he teased my nipples and kissed me under the ear, I began to wonder just how it would be, with Sally. I liked her. If we shared a deep secret, had a little fun when the men were at work ... I knew now I had admired her looks and figure for a long time. Rather enviously, of course.
I had to do something. These prolonged teasing sessions were nice, but they didn't satisfy me fully. A girl wanted to get screwed!
I decided I would be just a shade bolder than usual. Ordinarily he didn't let me see his prick or play with it until he had tickled me for a long, long time. I arched my titties out further, giggling a little, and reached over where the folds of his robe showed his cock standing up. He stirred, but kept on feeling my titties, working around on my nipples, nibbling at my mouth.
Reaching inside his robe, I found his pajamas open, and closed my fingers around his shaft. He was hard. After so many days, he should be!
It was lovely to hold a real live cock after all my waiting. I was starved for it. It wasn't fair, making me to without anything except a few pats and kisses for days on end. Delicious tremors ran up my arm to my firming, tender nipples. My pussy was getting moist, too. But he wouldn't be down there for maybe ten or fifteen minutes, at the most.
I looked eagerly down at his prick and drew the foreskin back from the pink, swollen knob. Ohhh, I wanted to take it in my mouth!
I spread my thighs and made a slow coital lift. I wasn't too far from my first come. He generally teased me to a couple of peaks before he brought his cock even near my pussy. His hand left my titties and he drew my fingers away from his prick.
"Don't you want to make it last, honey?" he murmured.
I almost turned off, but the anticipation was too keen. He didn't want me fondling him-yet. What a silly way to make love! It was always almost, but not quite. I decided I would have some words with him later; right now I needed my pleasure.
At last he kissed me on the mouth, and his tongue slid inside. His hand went down my belly and started across it, along my parted thighs. The thrills were starting. I sucked his tongue and shivered and curled my rump higher. He teased the tender inner planes of my thighs, close to my panties. Ohhh, things were getting better! I combed my fingers through his thick brown hair, his mouth came away and I began panting.
I shuddered as the sweet twinges started in my pussy and spread up to my titties. He kissed a nipple and inched his fingers inside my panties. I moaned and gasped and my hunger for manly touches suddenly exploded in a surge of shaky, voluptuous throbbing.
His hand pressed my pussy just as I went off. I lurched against it, my boobies quaking, as they always did. I cried out.
What I had done earlier in the day hadn't taken any edge off my fervor. I think it made my shivers better! At least I had had something in my cunt when I hit the top and sailed over.
His mouth lifted from my nipple and he patted my wet pussy. He appeared to take a lot of pride in the fact that he could tease me to a climax. And he had barely grazed my clit.
"Was that good for you, honey?" he whispered.
"Yes." Sugary nutters continued to circle in my loins. How many times had we said these same words? I took off for the bathroom to clean up a bit; I have a lot of coital flow when I'm hot. He wanted everything just so.
When I came out he was still on the sofa, as usual. He would give me another come there, and then we'd go to the bedroom for his finish. Oh, if he would only vary the routine a little. However, I needed more, much more, and I returned to the same spot.
He was some sort of a panty fetishist; he never cared to take them off until right at the end, and then he wouldn't look at my pussy. I don't have much pubic hair; I had no idea why he didn't like to see me there. Was it because all the girlie pictures were that way, with no hair showing?
He began again, his hand inside my panties, his mouth on my nipples. This time he would fondle my clitoris, which he did skillfully. My titties responded, my cunt tingled, and pretty soon I was riding high again, quaking, ready for my second thrill. He wouldn't even put his finger in my pussy, which I would have loved. Clit and titties. But I took it, and right when I hit my heaven, he let his prick out, and this time I held it with no protest. I had another gaspy crest.
After a rest we went into the bedroom. We sank down and assumed the usual position, my left thigh over him, my hand on his pecker, which was pushed up close to my cunt. I began to play his prick along my crevice. The ache to take him inside was almost overwhelming. If I did he would lose his hard-on. So we continued with the kid stuff, while he sucked my nipples and caressed my hips and thighs.
One thing about it, I could gauge the tempo of the last one. Play around, then wait; play around and wait. He nudged a trifle closer, and I curved my rump inward. I could tease the head of his cock anywhere on my puss, my panties still on, but pushed low enough to permit me to operate.
I made it last quite a while. Finally, my panties had to come off. I always did that, while he kept his attention elsewhere. Now, there was more freedom. I was burning for the finale. His breathing quickened. His hips worked. Hearing a man pant always fires me up.
Ohhh, I was nearly there! A few sensuous sweeps of his prick head along my moistened twat, then a quick burst of shakes against my clit-and he gasped. I gasped. I felt his prick swell and then he was spurting his juice onto my pussy, into the crack, and my rump shimmied as I shuddered out my joy.
Immediately he drew away, resting flat on his back, cock still half-hard, stuff dripping down it, while I worked my hips and had the last thrills I would get from his association that night. He was through with me. No after-caresses or cozy attention. He had used me again.
I wondered which girlie had been in his thoughts when he climaxed. The redhead, with legs sprawled apart, or maybe the blonde in the fold-out, her tits arched forward, rump curved backward as if she were ready for a dog-fashion entrance.
Well, that was the way we did it-sometimes only once a week. It seemed to take him about two days to recover from an orgasm, then another day to think about it.
I turned away from, wiping his juice off my legs and pussy; he didn't care to watch me do that, either.
I bit my lip to keep from saying harsh, cruel words. Nearly two years of his namby-pamby stuff. And when I stopped taking pills, and began thinking about a family, how would I ever become pregnant?
As I left the bed and went to the bathroom again, I couldn't look at him. I had never been so close to despising him. He was weak. I found myself looking forward to the following evening. If Sally could manage a swap, she might be sorely disappointed!