Chapter 1
October 23rd... the Atkins' third year anniversary dinner was spread sumptuously over the fine Irish linen tablecloth.
Ted's favorite dish-pot roast-was succulent and finely seasoned with the right pinch of paprika. Garlic bread oozed butter, and the vintage zinfandel was just piquant enough, without the corky taste. The television set was a non-interruptive blackened box whose glass was streaked orange with flickers of candlelight reflecting off Polly Atkins' fine wedding crystal goblets.
She smiled coquettishly under a halo of honey curls, her aqua eyes sparkling as daintily she lifted a forkful of salad to her rouged lips. Times like these, savored moments of intimacy, she realized just how rich in love she was with her husband.
Setting down her fork and dabbing at rosebud lips with the corner of an Irish linen dinner napkin, she leaned over and kissed Ted fondly on the cheek as he reached for a second slice of the warm garlic bread. "I love you, Teddie," she purred.
Ted grinned, and kissed her lips, sweetened with wine. He gazed into her eyes, gray in candlelight, with butterfly eyelashes creating teasing shadows over her high cheekbones. The stirrings of love and sensuality which had first excited him, and had never once stopped titillating him, rippled through his six-foot-one inch frame. Statistics state that the third year of marriage is the hardest; it pleased him that he'd managed to beat the odds!
Polly's full, ripe figure nearly burst from the tight bodice of her black sheath, and the plunging v-shaped neckline showed more than just a casual view of her sun-bronzed breasts. The bumblebees of her puffy nipples stuck out from under the jersey obstinately ... nipples which had been first caressed by him and only him. That claim to her virginity filled him with a manliness Webster had no definition for-somewhere in between God and master.
"More carrots, honey?" she asked.
Ted nodded, watching the smooth undulations of her buttocks tightly cupped in the black sheath as she scraped back her chair and headed for the kitchen. As he listened to the clatter of lids being removed from pots, he dwelt on the warm wet passion his wife stored between her well-curved thighs. Tonight was going to be the night ... after three years a man deserved a fresh kind of passion, proof that a husband was foremost a man.
Tenderly, she placed a dish of steaming carrots, dripping with aujus, before her husband and slipped back to the table. "I hope I put enough dill in for you."
Ted studied his wife's butter-smeared, succulent lips in the candlelight, barely tasting the crunch of garlic bread. 'Thanks, sweetheart, but I'm full." He leaned over and kissed those ruby lips. "After three years, you've learned to make a mean pot roast." Cautious of over-eating, he wiped his mouth, folded his napkin, leaned back and patted his stomach.
"But we haven't had the chocolate mousse yet!" protested Polly with a teasing smile showing off pearly white teeth.
"Let's save it for tomorrow," he offered. Another sip of wine would satisfy course number one, then on to dessert! Making love on a full stomach robbed him of energy and tonight he needed to be hard and hearty!
"Just let me clear up these dishes and-"
He caught her arm. "Forget the dishes! I have a little surprise for our trip to Hawaii."
Catching her by the delicate wrist, he urged her away from the littered table and pulled her toward the sofa. From beneath the flounce, he hauled out a square box. "Open it."
Titters of exclamations bubbled from her rouged lips and, cheeks flushed in love and expectancy, she slid her polished nail under the cellophane tape and carefully unwrapped the box, cautious not to rip the wrapping paper. A polaroid camera sat inside.
"Oh, Teddie! How great, for Hawaii!"
A crooked smirk creased Ted's handsome face. "Thought I'd get it for you now so you could learn how to use the damned thing. You know how it is these days, buy something new and it doesn't work. What d'ya say we try 'er out tonight in celebration of our third wedding anniversary?"
Polly clapped her tiny hands together and bounced on the sofa in jubilation, her melon-like breasts jiggling with the movement. "That would be lovely!" she cooed, glancing sideways at the littered table and forcing herself, out of habit, to avoid throwing herself into housework and neglecting Ted, something he accused her of often these days. Tonight was Ted's night, anything he wanted!
The wine-encouraged visions flitting through Ted's burning brain caused him to feel a bit uneasy with himself. He liked sex, loved making it with his sexy wife ... but their marriage was growing stale. If only her lovemaking was as liberal as her portions of pot roast! Maybe the low-cut black sheath she'd bought for tonight was the devilish instigator, maybe it was the big three, but he couldn't shake the vision of her soft, tapered body spread out on the sofa while the camera winked at her creamy nudity. A strange tingling in his groin began at the thought, and a slight jerk of his penis told him he'd better start setting the mood.
First, the camera.
Ted plucked it out of his wife's admiring hands and fidgeted with it, familiarizing himself with the buttons, turning it over, wondering if this instrument were capable of his high hopes.
"Maybe we could take some nice photos for Linda back in Chicago," suggested Polly a bit tipsily. She settled back on the sofa, one lithe arm stretched over the back of the beige velour sofa, nestling her creamy back into the cushions.
"You got it!" Ted checked the camera to make certain the camera clerk had inserted the first free roll of film, and, satisfied, stepped back and hunched over to get his wife's voluptuous form well into the frame. "Smile, say cheese!"
She did and the first photograph spit out the front, developing in the open air.
"Looks good, hon ... wanna try another?"
Loving the attention, Polly dipped her chin as would a professional model and smiled into the lens.
Ted peered around the camera. "This time why don't you lift your dress a little?"
Polly's smile crimped. "But, honey?"
"This one's for me."
Well, this was Ted's night and after all, he'd seen more than her thigh! Gamely, she inched up the him of her skirt, showing off a rich expanse of creamy thigh.
Click....
"A little higher this time, this one wasn't very clear, guess I was shaking a little ... the wine, you know." He set the Polaroid down on the end table.
The pretty wife looked askance at her husband, and if it hadn't been for the extra glass of wine with that last slice of pot roast, she would never have consented to inching that black jersey up over her knees and a bit further north to uncover the black lacey strip of her garter belt.
Showing off that dimpled knee seemed to crowbar open the iron-tight moral code that Ted Atkins had come to associate with his pretty wife. "Promise me, Teddie," she started breathlessly, "you won't put it in our family album!"
"Promise," he grinned, holding his breath and snapping the shutter. The photograph rolled out and he sat beside her on the sofa watching the image darken. He found himself breathing shallowly as his blue eyes oogled the firm swell of her stockinged thighs decorated with black lace garters snaking down the creaminess. He could see little tufts of blonde pussy hairs sticking out around the dampened band of her bikini panties. The aching built steadily in his groin .. .a bulge tenting his gabardine pants. Embarrassed, he shot up from the sofa and backed off, hunching down, framing his wife's loveliness in the camera's eye.
"No, Teddie, please..." she whispered hoarsely, as if her mother were watching from a corner of the room and shaking a warning finger at her youngest daughter.
He ignored her. "Give me a cheesecake pose, honey. Put your legs up on the couch and lean back. Make yourself look like Marilyn Monroe. Stick your breasts out... wow! That's it!"
Click!
Ted Atkins licked his lips and caught the Polaroid film as it spit out from the end. His wide blue eyes popped wide as the image of his blonde haired wife draped in black on the beige sofa came into focus. The richness of her smooth cleavage was shadowed, the bumble bees of her nipples poking through the tight black jersey, winking at him. "By God, look at that, baby! Nice photo, huh?"
He passed it before his wife's gaping eyes. Polly gasped, never having seen herself look quite so sexy! Her cheeks rouged. "Teddie!" Her tiny hand flew to her mouth, but her eyes were glued to the image of her self. One lithe arm was stretched out along the back of the sofa, the other bent as her hand pulled up the hem of her skirt to show off the black garter belt. Her blonde head was thrown back provocatively, thrusting out her heavy breasts which strained alluringly against the tenacious black jersey. The light made a prism of her diamond earring, creating a blinking star in adoration of her sensuality. The glistening fullness of her lips shone wetly as she'd moistened them with the tip of her pink tongue.
"Jesus, baby, you're beautiful! Let's take some more!" Ted's voice was gravelly. The excited husband gesticulated wildly. "Lie down on your belly and pull the right shoulder strap down over your arm... just a little bit so I can see your tits!"
"Teddie, don't talk like that!" She tutted indignantly, but obediently flopped down on her belly and inched down the spaghetti strap until it draped down her dimpled elbow. A peek of oozing breast flesh focused in the camera's eye. She wiggled into position, the mound of her sensuality rubbing into the sofa cushions. A ripple of sensuality sparked through the modest wife, giving life to a tingling irritation in the heart of her loins and inner thighs. With an embarrassed flush, she felt the band of her bikini panties dampen.
How can I let him do this! her mind raged. But when she gazed up in the dim light at her husband's eager face, and her eyes dropped to the tent bulging in his pants, her desires flamed. My God, he's getting excited by this ... I'm dying of embarrassment and he's getting horny! Somehow that didn't make sense to Polly Atkins.
Sniffling indignantly, Polly positioned herself on her side so that the oozing breast flesh topped with a diamond chip nipple came clearly into view. Again she felt a ticklish excitation ripple up one thigh and down the other, centering in the heart of her womb. Her puckered nipples tingled tantalizingly, pressing against the black jersey.
"Please, make this the last one, hon!"
"If this is going to be the last one, let's make it right!" Setting down the camera, the excited husband knelt before his goose-bumped wife and pulled the spaghetti strap down further until her nipple winked over the wad of black jersey, like a little sun peeking up to the eastern skies. Next he pulled up the hem of her dress, the ticklish feel of his hot fingers touching her goose-bumped skin, making her shiver with delight. Compliantly she wiggled her hips, aiding him, until the black strip of her garter belt came into view ... and up further still until the pouting mound of Venus, swollen and damp, peered out between her sleek inner thighs. '
It had gone too far! What had been titillating was becoming unholy! Tutting in protest, Polly clamped her thighs together and stopped him.
"Don't be such a cold fish, Polly!" The wine and growing excitement bulging his loins had shed patience and chiseled his words.
Polly's glistening lips puckered poutingly and her blue eyes snapped dangerously at him. "I am not a cold fish! How dare you speak to me like that!" With her eyes boring coldly into his, she lifted up her hips and yanked at her dress until it was a black wad about her slender waist. She opened the vee of her thighs and braced one foot on the sofa so that the tempting mound of her sensuality was openly pouting before the camera. With a defiant sniff, she yanked down the spaghetti strap so that the full mound of her creamy breast hung ripely from her chest She heard Ted breathe sharply and shivered as she caught him gazing down with hungry eyes at the tender, scantily covered mound of her pussy. "This is the last one ... so help me God!"
"Sure, hon," he breathed. "We'll hit the sack after this one." He knelt on one knee and framed the tantalizing contrasts of oozing white flesh and black jersey, aiming precisely at the blonde pussy tufts peeking out around the legbands of her panties. He snapped off the picture and gulped in awe when the photograph developed magically in open air.
Holy shit! Ted's mouth watered from the sumptuous view of his worse than naked wife, her cat eyes gleaming hungry at him from the glossy photo.
Mustering up lost dignity, Polly sat upright on the sofa, smoothing down the wrinkled wad of her black jersey dress. Tears stung her eyes. She sniffed and sprang to her feet, shooting her husband an angry gaze as she caught him oogling the the photograph. With a flick of the head, she stomped off toward the bedroom, her polished pink toes digging into the thick hallway carpeting. A bit unsteadily, she turned into the bedroom and flicked on the night light.
She turned her back to the mirror as she stripped off the provocative gown and tossed it onto the back of the chair. She peeled off her bikini panties, the band moistened with unholy desire. Next came the black garter belt and dark stockings.
Why did men always have to treat women like sex objects? Wasn't pure love enough? A tingle of bitterness rippled through her at the speculation that her own loving husband had been trying to make a fool of her ... like a horny teenage boy in the backseat of his Daddy's car, testing a girl to see how far she'd go! With a sigh of defeat, she slipped between the cool sheets, her flushed cheek burning against the pillow slip.
In the hallway beyond, she heard Teddie flick off the lights and head toward the bedroom. If his lecherous behavior disgusted her, her own haunted her. She had allowed him to use her as an object and, like some cheap slut, had become excited by submission. The image of his tenting gabardine pants flickered before her closed eyes. Yes, Ted had wanted her, and his desire sparked her own.
But calling her a cold fish! How cruel!... especially after sweating over a hot stove all day, cooking up a feast for her king! Well, wasn't that the plight of women these days?
She felt his strong presence in the doorway. "Please come to bed, Teddie, it's late, you've got that board meeting tomorrow."
"Fuck the board meeting," he grumbled hoarsely, flicking on the overhead light.
Polly draped a lithe arm over her forehead, shading her eyes. The thump of his shoes announced his nightly strip, the whine of his pants zipper and rustle of clothes being flung recklessly over the chair back, whispering of inebriation. The bed dipped and she smelled the liquor on his breath as he positioned himself in a kneeling position.
A warm hand brushed over her fevered forehead, melting reserve and warming affections. Just one touch of his hand, that's all it took to make her feel womanly. God, she loved him! Slowly she lifted the arm from her forehead and blinked wide her periwinkle eyes.
His erect, blue veined cock stood out from a nest of bushy curls at the dominant vee of his loins. "I love you, honey, you're a sexy woman," he whispered hoarsely. Slowly, he slid the cool sheet down over her quivering body.
It came in a burst of emotion. "Ted, I love you so much!" It was a desperate whine meant to eradicate the guilt of repressed sensuality.
"Ohhhh... honnnn," he hummed, his fingers working at the drawstring of her diaphanous pink nightie. One slight tug and the fabric opened onto her lusciously creamy flesh. His warm hands roamed over the oozing mounds of her breasts, caressingly, lovingly, with an urgency that made her tingle. He tweaked her nipples until they stood out in diamond chips. Her beauty was flawless, her wide-eyed shyness alluring in a virginal way. She had been a virgin when he'd married her three years ago today; she had developed the bitterness and plaguing sense of boredom which was a cause of complaint amongst many of his male friends.
He licked the shell of her perfumed ear. "You're a great model, honey... Christ, I'd love to take pictures of you naked!"
Polly sucked in her breath. Those damned photographs! Was he in love with the slut with her breast hanging out and vagina exposed, or with his wife? Hot tears of self-denigration dampened her eyes and she threw her arms around his strong neck, pulling him close. She couldn't admit her arousal to having stripped nearly naked, spreading her legs like a harlot for the camera... what would Ted think of her then? She gripped him tightly around the neck and drew him close to her.
"Ted, make love to me!" she whined desperately. "Let's make love!"
Ted's mind, yet blinded by the image of his wife spread out on the sofa with the blonde fleece of her pubic curls peeking out around the leg bands of her panties and the sensual black garter belt, made his cock leap to a blood filled high.
Hovering over her quivering body, he hauled up the hem of her nightie and arched his groin above her belly button. He moved his hardened shaft up and down along her stomach, silken and soft. Ted groaned, feeling the heat of sexuality fire into a rage inside his lust-bloated penis.
He leaned back, making his penis hang over her breasts. For a delicious moment, the sex hungry husband shut his eyes and imagined seeing her glistening, wet lips clamped around the stalk of his hardened penis. Uncontrollably, he groaned and slid up on the bed until the mushroomed tip of his cock hovered about the taut line of her glistening lips. As he moved, it drubbed at her chin.
Maybe on their third anniversary she would relent.
"Kiss me there, honey ... kiss me, Polly!" His warm, rubbery penis was a tongue's lick away from her ruby lips. She need only bend her neck an effortless inch to please him.
A shudder of revulsion quivered through Polly. "No, no, Teddie ... you know I don't like to do that!" She turned her face away, pursing her lips. The idea of taking his male instrument into her mouth and sucking on it, tasting the Ajax-like smell of his semen, revolted her to the core of her being. It was vile, disgusting, and mother certainly would never have conceded to such unfeminine acts!
"Not there," she whispered and slithered forward, her arms tight around his neck and pulling him downwards until he lay full length on the bed. "I... I know you want me to, but can't I make you happy my way?" she reasoned.
The image of his wife's delicate, soft, loving mouth clamped around his penis exploded in disappointment. The envisioned denouement of her cooing and squirm- ing as he spurt his white hot cum deep into her swanlike throat dissipated like morning fog, leaving a vacuum of desire to haunt him. In an otherwise fantastic relationship, her reluctance to please him orally caused a shivering schism to split the fulfillment between reality and desire. If only he could convince her of the beauty of the act... lips on penis, lips on vagina!
He squeezed her tight, feeling her warmth undulating, quivering against his nakedness. Her soft bowled belly and humping pelvis ground against his hardened penis until the frustrating image fled and he resorted to the missionary position.
'Teddie.. .oh, honey!" she moaned. "Please don't be angry with me... really, I'm not a cold fish. You know how I love to make love to you!"
"Hmmmm," he agreed. He held her closer to him, moving one warm hand down to cup the smooth satiny curves of her buttocks.
With a desperate lunge, she glued her lips to his, and stabbed the tip of her pink tongue between his pearly teeth ... in and out, in and out... in a parody of lovemaking. He stiffened as he felt her warm palm encircle the girth of his meaty cock and give it a salacious tug.
"I want to feel you inside me," she mewled hotly.
Her urgency made him quiver and Ted pressed his warm lips harder against hers to show his mutual need. She strained and pressed her body grinding and wriggling, and then opened her legs and thighs and positioned his mushroom tipped penis against the hairy mouth of her warm, hungry young pussy, the taut, hair-lined lips of her womanhood parting with the overwhelming need of having him deep inside her belly.
"Yes, Teddie ... there ... there!"
He lunged forward, his hips thrusting powerfully as he drove with maddened lust into her weeping hole, feeling her fevered cuntal walls grip him, milk him. Tonight she would be satisfied with nothing but all of him, and Ted was noted in his wife's grinding undulations a hint of whorishness ... he couldn't understand her sometimes, he realized in a burst of clarity. But how could he comprehend anything with the head of his cock shoved so far up into her pussy it struck home at the tip of her spongy cervix! He could feel her cuntal walls ripple, spasm. She held him captive within her belly, imprisoning him with her clasping, smoothly possessive cunt, and with her widespread legs spread wide as they would go; she locked her slender ankles around his back and drove him into her. He quickened his strokes, fucking into his wife with a crazed fury. The breath wheezed from his lungs.
Oh shit, it wouldn't take long tonight! He could feel it start, a pulling sensation deep in his balls, growing to an intolerable pressure that demanded release! Some nights they could make love for hours, but not tonight! He was going to cum damned soon and nothing could stop him!
"Teddie... Tedddeee! Oh, oh, oh, you feel so goood!" she grunted wantonly. The voracious wife whimpered and pleaded, kissing his neck, his shoulders, tasting the saltiness of his exertion. She babbled babyishly and he knew she was close to cumming. Her knees drew up as if on springs as she raised herself higher up " off the squeaking mattress. Her wetly squelching pussy bucked wildly back up against his pelvis, smacking into his groin.
"OOOOOhhhhh ... ohhh Teddeeee!" she cried in a tortured wail. "I'm ... I'm ... eiii eeeee iiiii!" With a devilish groan, Polly's hungry pussy wept with the joy of marital bliss!
That did it for Ted! His cum churned into a froth of lust, deep within his balls. It spurt through his swollen testicles and up through his hardened penile shaft, bursting through the eye to spate his wife's hungrily milking pussy. Again and again giant spurts of creamy seed flowed from him until at last he collapsed, a sweaty exhausted mass of male flesh; a sigh of loving contentment chorusing her mewlings of appreciation.
The euphoric cloud lifted after a moment and Ted rolled off his wife's trembling form. He kissed her warmly on the forehead, plumped up his pillow and curled up in a ball.
"I love you, honey," she whispered into the night.
A smile creased his lips. "I love you, too, sweetheart," he answered thickly. Tomorrow morning's board meeting flitted unrealistically through his mind, taking second place to something more urgent Polly was a damned good lay (why not? He'd been her teacher)... but her inhibition about oral sex was beginning to tug at the tight band of marital fulfillment that was his by rights. In the dim light of the moon stealing fugitively through the Venetian blinds, he gazed at her tenderly ... the soft skin, the full lips, slightly parted in sleep. Something had to crack that useless veneer of revulsion. Somehow she had to learn that mouth on penis was a beautiful act of love.
It was, after all, his right as a husband.