(I've waited a long time to tell this story. The technology of the time of the story will demonstrate that.)
When we had been married about 3 years, satellite TV came to our neck of the woods. It required a clear view of the sky, and the dishes were about 8-12 feet across. Ours was a bigger one. Of course calibrating them and setting them correctly, locking them in place, and making adjustments as necessary was a part of our everyday attempt to watch TV. Glitches, shifts, winds, and gremlins struck with alarming frequency.
Suddenly, it seemed like we were inundated with sports and movies. My husband, Ned loved it. HBO had come out with a lot of sexy movies and sexually-oriented content, including striptease performances. Being able to click on the TV and to see naked titties, bare asses, and bush galore was quite exciting for Ned. Hell, I watched my share, too. It was just so sexy and taboo, and we were enjoying our naughty pleasures.
Of course, we also got football, and Monday Night Football was a big hit. We were the first out in our corner of "the sticks" to be able to see it. Trying to be charitable to his friends, Ned began inviting several of his friends out to watch the game. Without really intending it, watching the game at our house became a weekly Monday night event. Soon, our "guests" were expecting beers, soft drinks, snacks, sandwiches, etc. The expense was such, I finally said something, and they started bringing their own stuff.
It was an improvement, but I liked to go to bed by 10:30, and the games often ran later, but Ned didn't feel right going to bed and leaving them to fend for themselves. Apparently, it never seemed to occur to them that they could just go home when we got ready for bed. I also liked to have sex with my husband, but Ned didn't feel right about doing it with them in the next room--and I must admit they would probably have heard every sound we made.
Something had to give. I tried to be more direct, but our weekly "guests" never took the hint, and seemed to consider themselves entitled to occupy our house on Monday nights. Ned wouldn't say anything, and it seemed hopeless. Not willing to give up, I hatched a plan.
The next Monday night was a clear, barely chilly, full-moon night, not really cold, but enough to be considered cool. As usual, the crowd was there for the game. I pretended to go to bed before halftime, and in the bedroom, put on a highly transparent baby doll negligee top, pulled on a long winter coat, and got three blankets and 4 pillows. I pushed them out the window and made trips up the long little hill to where the satellite dish sat beyond the trees, carrying things up there.
Once I got there with everything, I adjusted the dish so it was flat enough I could make a pallet and climb up into it, sort of like a giant "papasan" chair, and covered up. Of course my adjustments had totally screwed up the TV reception, and I could hear the boisterous bitching as the guys tried to get the picture back. I smiled to myself when the door opened and Ned began to trudge up the hill. Two of the guys offered to help, but Ned told them to stay and to fix some of the frozen pizzas we had.
Of course when Ned got up there, he found his horny, delectable, nearly naked wife waiting on him. My nipples were hard enough to cut diamonds and seeing the lust in his eyes, my pussy was hot as coals and wet as a drenched cat.
I have to give Ned credit: he didn't waste time talking or gawking. He kissed me hard, pulled my ass to the bottom edge and went down on me like a man on a life-or-death mission. I was so horny and needy that it didn't last nearly long enough, but by the time he pulled his dripping beard up from between my legs, I was cumming hard, very hard.
