Ann: the Married Years

© 2019, All rights reserved -- mimaster

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Neil grew tired of waiting.

Here he was, developing a master plan to teach his wife the value of patience, and he was anything but. Mostly because he was worked up watching his naughty neighbors through his front window. Felicia had returned home to Jason.

He had no real proof of what was going on, other than from a historical perspective. Felicia had told Ann the stories. Jason had told him similar ones; tales of the lifestyle he and his wife practiced. Namely that of a husband who fantasized about his sexy wife enjoying the physical company of other men, and that wife doing everything she could to turn those erotic wishes into reality, turning them both on in the process.

Neil actually had recent pictures of her in action, fucking

him

; all part of a day of fantasy

Ann had

cooked up on the spur of the moment a few weeks before.

So, it wasn't hard to believe that what he was witnessing in front of the Wallace house was along those very same lines. Ann had actually described it to him in detail, having witnessed it herself several times, becoming a titillated voyeur to their naughty behavior. Now he was the one standing there, leering through the glass, seeing it for himself for the first time.

Felicia had just come home, apparently from one of her illicit dates. Jason was eagerly waiting for her. At least that was the likely scenario, based on the limited knowledge one could gain from spying at night at a considerable distance. Most of the information he was using to draw that conclusion came from what he knew to be true about the horny couple.

Felicia had stopped on the sidewalk and motioned for Jason to meet her outside, making him eat her pussy right there in front of their house. That much seemed to be true, as Neil was watching it happen before his very eyes. While he couldn't prove it from where he stood in his living room, he had to assume that her pussy was full of another man's cum.

It was what she did; what

they

did as a couple. She was the horny hotwife. He was the cuckold husband that encouraged her to behave very badly for his pleasure. And they each loved the other for playing their role. It had been a part of their lifestyle for years. It was also the reason behind their dirty little secret; namely that their three children were most likely not Jason's.

Of course, that wasn't a secret to Jason. He knew. He'd actually been a part of selecting the men he allowed Felicia to sleep with. They wanted a family and yet he couldn't provide her with that. His sperm count had always been extremely low to the point they found it impossible to conceive in a normal fashion. They didn't have the money for in-vitro fertilization and neither one of them wanted to adopt. He was adamant that their kids should have as least some biological attachment to them, even if it were just one of the parents. So, he came up with an idea and she eventually warmed to it over time.

But they had kept that to themselves. No one knew; not even any of the several suitors that might have impregnated her. Certainly not their kids. It was their darkest secret, one that they didn't share for fear of the potential damage it might cause. It stayed that way for decades until their new neighbors moved in next door.

Neil and Ann took that revelation to heart, knowing it had to be hard for them to finally confide in someone, and feeling privileged that they were the ones they finally chose to come clean to after all those years. That opened the door to what had become an incredible friendship. There wasn't much they

didn't

share with regard to their personal lives. No one was doing it to brag, or to titillate. It was more of a cathartic experience. They saw in each other a kindred spirit, and with the Wallace's being older, Neil and Ann kind of looked at them as surrogate parents... an exciting sexual couple to look up to.

Not that they were looking to emulate what Jason and Felicia did, or had done. It was just nice to know that sex was a subject they didn't have to hide whenever they got together. And it was nicer that they could be open without fear of judgment.

Yet Neil was judging them at that very moment.

"Good lord, will you hurry it up already," he whined as he watched Jason continue to suck his wife's cunt.

Well, he couldn't actually see anything. Jason's head was under her skirt. Although she was holding it there and it was fairly obvious what he was doing, just as it was simple to deduce that she was toying with her nipples. In some ways, not seeing made it much more erotic.

Neil's cock was throbbing. He'd gone two entire days without cumming. That in and of itself wasn't a record. He had gone much longer stretches than that before. But he'd actually been fucking Ann and making her suck his cock. He just wasn't allowing himself to cum. It was abstinence

with

sex and it was becoming torturous.

That was ironic to him, since he'd been playfully torturing his wife the entire weekend, and yet

she

was cumming more than she ever had. She'd even discovered an entirely new way to explode, several of her orgasms so intense she squirted. But here he was, in charge, and he was high and dry.

"That's going to end soon," he said confidently as he marched over to the island, opening up one of the drawers to pull out a box. Flipping on the light over the stove he opened the lid, smiling at the contents. Grabbing a pen, he pulled out what he'd been searching for; a pile of postcards, of all things.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ann had a particular fondness for writing. She'd loved to send letters to her friends, the idea of taking the time to scribe a personal sentiment in her own elegant handwriting seeming so much more intimate than the phone calls she would usually make. Yet more often, she would write on a postcard. There was something that appealed to her about a short note, where she'd think of someone and jot down a particular thought, liking the spontaneity of it but also the loving, personal touch it showed.

First, it was just that... a short, quick note. The brevity of the words on the confined space was part of the appeal. She had to choose what she wrote carefully, crafting a message that would convey her thoughts in a succinct, yet clear manner. The power of being able to touch someone with just a sentence or two often made her smile inside. It brought those who lived far away closer to her.

There was also the fact that her dad worked for the Postal Service, and it was a way to support him and what he did. Yes, it was a drop in the bucket, but whenever she wrote out a postcard and dropped it off in a public mailbox on a random street corner, or popped it in the mailbox and flipped up the flag to signal the mail carrier there was outgoing mail, she felt closer to him.

Then there was the surprise of it. Not many people used a postcard as an actual way to communicate, particularly when it was a quick '

Hello... just wanted to you know I've been thinking about you

' kind of thing. The shock of getting one, especially when traveling wasn't involved, made people feel special.

That was the thing. Ann didn't use them when they were on vacation like most people did, purchasing a few scenic cards from wherever they were as a way to brag about it. She actually found that rather insulting, as if the person that sent it was teasing about being somewhere nicer than she was. Yes, she sometimes used cards with beautiful landscapes or distinct landmarks, but they usually were from a more personal perspective. In fact, almost all of the cards that she kept in her box were from where she and Neil lived.

And that, in a way,

was

bragging. She was showing off their hometown and the surrounding area, promoting it like an exotic locale. And it was in her eyes. After all, she lived there. She had a way of looking at the natural beauty of wherever she lived at the time, wanting to support it to her far away friends and family. Neil often wondered if she was secretly working for the local Chamber of Commerce. For living in an area where most residents thought of you as an outsider until you'd lived there for twenty years, he was certain Ann was the county's unpaid biggest ambassador.

The last thing she loved about sending a postcard was the fact that it was anything but private. It went through the mail, traveling across the country not in anonymity, but in full view. It was the postal version of exhibitionism, the thoughts conveyed on the back side there for anyone with a voyeuristic mind to peruse at their leisure.

She was certain that no one ever took the time to actually read one in between when she mailed it and when it arrived at its final destination. But anyone that handled it could do that if they wanted, and she found that exhilarating in a lot of ways. It wasn't like she was writing a lot of risqué things on them, but she had before, and she got a kick out of it. She'd even sent several to Neil while he was living at the hotel, hoping to turn him on. It was one of her personality quirks that he found quite endearing.

He knew exactly where she kept them; along with her stationary, the special pens she used, her address book and her book of stamps. They were all kept together in an organized box inside the drawer, along with dozens of greeting cards she bought ahead of time for birthdays, anniversaries, special events, and any other occasion one could think of. She was always prepared to shoot off a note or a card on the spur of the moment. He often kidded her about owning shares in Hallmark, since she went there so often just to stock up.

Taking a page out of her book, he'd opened the box as he took it to the counter next to the stove, smiling when he peered inside. He thought of what to write, smiling when he recalled some of naughtier ones Ann had sent to him at the hotel. It seemed intriguing that he was now thinking about what Annabelle might write if she'd been the one standing there. Yet these were most definitely going to be from him. He just wasn't going to sign them.

Grabbing a handful of postcards, he scrambled out the back, heading down to the crawlspace and unlocking the door. He left the lights off, the darkened dungeon illuminated by just the moonlight coming through the door. Unzipping the tent, he crawled inside. He poked at Ann, who was still awake.

"Yes Master," she said excitedly, hoping he'd returned to finish fucking her, wanting to feel his cum anywhere in or on her sore body. Reaching for her hand, he stuck the pen in it. "What's this?"

"It's a pen," he said bluntly as he held out a cookbook he'd brought with him to use as a backboard for her to write. Placing one of the cards on top, he took her hand and placed it near where he knew the bottom of it to be. "Sign your name, Annabelle."

"Wh...what is it? Some kind of contract?" she wondered, not knowing where his head was at, but fearful that she was getting in over hers now that she apparently had to learn something from what she was experiencing.

"You could say that. Sign it please, and make sure you use your slave name."

"Annabelle?"

"Yes."

She nervously penned her name in ink on the card, following up with a half-dozen more. He left the tent and zipped it up, telling her goodnight once again.

"Master?"

"Yes?"

"What did I just sign? Can you tell me?"

"No. You'll just have to be patient," he said as he closed the door, locking her inside once again.

"Great... he

knows

how I hate hearing that!"

Back in the kitchen, he went to work. He began carefully creating the first of several he would do altogether. He started by selecting the cards with the best signatures on them; those perfectly placed at the bottom. Then he set about printing the text of his message, choosing his words with purpose, wanting to convey the right tone.

If Ann was known for her incredibly stylish penmanship, Neil was known for his ability to print. He often had people ask if he was an architect or an artist, the letters being so clear and precise. He smiled, seeing how perfect what he was doing would contrast against her beautifully scripted autograph underneath.

He changed some of the verbiage from card to card, tailoring the content to the person he intended to send it to, but the overall message was the same. When he finished composing, he looked up addresses for the first three, finding them in Ann's thick book of friends and family. Then he placed stamps on each of those, readying them for the mail.

The fourth was placed in his lunchbox, knowing he wouldn't have time to mail it and have it arrive where he needed it to go in time. He'd be hand delivering that one, sort of.

The fifth was

definitely

going to be a personal delivery and he was going to do it right that minute. Putting everything away he looked out the front window when he turned off the light over the stove. Felicia and Jason had finally taken their action inside.

"I hope this works, or I could have one pissed off neighbor on my hands," he sighed nervously as he headed to the door, still not bothering to get dressed.

He walked outside naked, just like he had when he came up from the dungeon to the deck, knowing it was so late it was unlikely anyone would be looking out their windows. Then again, he'd just done that with

his

neighbors, so who's to say it wouldn't happen to him, especially with there being enough moonlight that he was visible.

Regardless he made his way up the blacktop, climbing the steady incline toward the top of the hill. His mailbox was in front of the Wallace home next to theirs; it was a minor inconvenience since they usually stopped to get their mail in their car when they came home. But there were times, like now, when one of them would make the trip from the house when they hadn't gone out for the day. With it being Sunday... well, early Monday morning, it was empty when he opened it, he having retrieved their mail the day before.

Placing the three postcards to be mailed inside, he closed the front, flipping up the red flag on the side to alert their carrier they had mail to go out the next morning. The upside was it wasn't as permanent as putting them in a public collection box would be. If he'd have dropped them in one of those, there was no retrieving them. This was safer. If his first delivery didn't go according to plan, he could simply scrap the entire plan and think of something else. But as he strode up the Wallace's sidewalk, he was suddenly filled with confidence, empowered by the role he'd been playing the last couple of days.

"Fuck it! I'm going to

make

it work," he nodded as he rang the doorbell, waiting for someone to answer.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ann was having trouble sleeping. The constant throbbing in her nipples reminded her of where she was, and why she was there. Even though she'd removed the twine that had been wrapped around them for hours, she could have sworn at times they were still bound. She even caught herself checking for the strings, going so far as to pull at the ends that were still tied off on her pussy ring to make sure she hadn't just imagined she'd taken them off. Yet the phantom pulsing was still there and she found herself shifting a lot trying to find a position on the air mattress that would allow her to sleep.

Her hand found its way to her mound once again. It had become a nighttime ritual, feeling the area where her soft strip of pubic hair used to be. She could just feel the beginning of some stubble, knowing it would be thicker come morning when she would be made to shave it once again. As her fingers danced over her skin, she sighed. She wasn't upset to the point she was crying like she had earlier that weekend, but she still mourned, the sense of loss more profound than she could have ever imagined it would be. It was like a part of her had died, and only Annabelle was left behind.

Yes, that was stupid logic. She knew that Anna, and Anna Renee were just beneath the surface, not unlike Annabelle had been for years since she let her out to play. Even Ann, the matriarch of all her personas was still with her inside. But outwardly, she was only Annabelle now, and she'd be that way until he released her from the collar she was wearing around her neck.

She took some solace in the fact that she could almost feel the hair growing beneath her fingertips, confirming that it would indeed come back. It already was, hence the morning ritual of shaving it; her daily reminder that she was committing to her Master every day to be his dutiful, loving slave. Normally she cursed the fact that the hair on her legs and pussy grew so fast, never getting a day off from shaving. Keeping her skin smooth made her feel sexy, but it was a chore sometimes. The signs of new life where her strip had been proved that it wouldn't take too long for her to grow it back.

Rolling over onto her back, she stared into the dark. It was pitch-black underneath the house, the heat and humidity making her sweat just lying there. She could feel the beads of perspiration rolling down her skin, almost tickling her. She raised her arms to put her hands under her head, hoping to help her relax from not having a pillow. Crossing her ankles, she closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was lying in a hammock, imagining a cool breeze running over her naked body.

Her ass hurt as it pressed against the mattress, but not enough to keep her from lying on it. Of all the positions she'd tried to that point, this was the most comfortable. Her body was sore, having been twisted and tied, bent and beaten, stretched and spanked, folded and fucked, and so much more. She rarely bruised, but she did have marks on her skin, particularly her ass. Her muscles ached more than they had in years, which made sense since it had been that long since she'd submitted to Neil's naughty whims.

As the restlessness subsided, she tried to put what was happening to her out of her mind as much as possible. She was lying in that hammock and she felt at peace. That is until her eyes snapped open. She sat up straight, cringing as the pains and aches all came back to her. Yet that seemed trivial to the frightening thought that had just popped into her head.

"How the hell am I going to make it through

work

tomorrow?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The glare of the porch light on the front stoop almost blinded Neil. He wasn't sure why it surprised him that it came on, but it did. He had pressed the doorbell three times, knowing his neighbors were home and that they were awake. He'd decided when he pressed it the second time that he wasn't leaving until one of them answered the door.

That someone turned out to be Jason, who answered the door in his shorts, an exasperated expression on his face. His expression quickly changed to shock when he saw Neil standing there naked, his hard cock practically pointing at him.

"Neil... what the fuck are you doing?" he said as he quickly turned off the light. "And why the hell are you naked?"

"He's naked?" Felicia said excitedly as she walked around the corner from the illuminated hallway, wearing only a pair of heels herself. Her big beautiful breasts covered with fresh love bites that may or may not have been administered by her husband. It was unlikely it was him, since she hadn't been home that long.

Their house was styled a bit differently that his. While they were nearly the same size and they were both ranches, the Wallace's' didn't have a great room; instead they had a living room in front that was small and tastefully decorated. Neil took in the site of the beautiful woman leering at him as she strutted across the carpet, accentuating her hips to make them and her tits sway more.

It was apparent from the look in her eyes that while she'd likely been out with one of her many lovers, she was still on the prowl. It was the first time he had seen her naked, other than in the pictures that had arrived at his house the previous week. But those paled in comparison to the real woman exuding everything sex as she stared at the raging erection bobbing up and down in front of her eyes.