Ann: a Love Story

© 2025, All rights reserved -- mimaster

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I hadn't heard from Ann since that Tuesday night call, where she hung up leaving me hard and thinking about her exploring her lesbian side. The thought that my bride-to-be might be a budding bisexual had me flip-flopping back and forth over my feelings about it. I was both scared and excited at the same time.

While the thought of watching her, or even hearing about her with another woman had me sexually charged most of the week, I also had some reservations. I'd already lost one wife to an insatiable urge to fuck any man she saw, and I found that almost too much to overcome. I could only imagine what the hell of losing one to lesbianism might be like. But I rationalized that that was a stupid concern. Ann's love of cock... my cock, made that seem like a very unlikely and preposterous prospect.

As the week wore on, I became more comfortable with the

what ifs

of Ann exploring her feminine sexuality, and less concerned that it would ruin our relationship. What did concern me was that she seemed not only willing, but almost hopeful, that I would occasionally fuck other women at her urging. My real problem wasn't so much with the premise. I'd be lying if I said that didn't at least intrigue me. I didn't feel the need to fuck anyone else but Ann... and I knew I'd never just stray from her. I loved her too much, and I'd been on the other side of that nasty scenario. But

her wanting me to do it? For her, and for us?

That did have me wondering.

But what bothered me about it was that I was almost being told that it was going to be that way. I didn't mind the notion of what she was saying, necessarily. But I wanted our relationship to be one where we'd talk things over, and work our way through them together. The way she'd proposed the whole thing made me skittish. And the fact that I had trouble getting a word in edgewise was frustrating. It was like I was being force fed, and I couldn't say stop for fear that every time I opened my mouth, another spoonful of crap would be shoveled inside.

As for her liking the idea of me being with other women... I really wasn't sure about that. It seemed an odd way to start a marriage. But then again, I had started the last one the way most people supposedly do, and it turned out like a train wreck. Who was I to say that what she was proposing was wrong? And I did like the thought of continuing to be the couple we had become while we were with each other that magical week.

I decided to look at how she was thinking more analytically. The fact was, she was right on almost everything she'd ever done when it came to our relationship. I even kidded her about it; how she was right all the time. And there was one point I knew with absolute certainty that she was correct about; we needed to trust each other, and it started with the area of my brain that had been torched and burned beyond recognition. If I couldn't get my sexual side in order, we didn't stand a chance. And that meant I had to trust her.

Trusting Ann would have been a lot less difficult if we weren't so far apart, and if we talked more. As it was, when I woke up Saturday it had been over three days since she had called. Not knowing her work number or her home number, or what mall she worked at, or the last name of her roommates or their address, all made me feel very isolated. Sure, I could have gone over to her parents house, or called them. But, I had a suspicion that she wanted it the way it was. It was part of the current state of our relationship. And it was part of trusting each other. If I couldn't handle going without talking to her for a couple of days, it proved I was needy and paranoid. I needed to let those emotions go and get them out of my system, and not let them control me.

And thinking about the practical side, with the three hour time difference, and the fact that her work schedule wasn't set like mine, trying to track her down and actually talk would have been almost impossible. I would never know where or when to call... and that likely would have only frustrated me more. My knowing the phone numbers wouldn't have changed that at all.

But as it was, four days without talking to her was a long time, and it was the weekend. Of course, she likely didn't have weekends. Working retail, she logged a lot of hours, and weekends were part of the job. It also didn't help that it was the late eighties. Long before the Internet, or cell phones, or even email. We were engaged in the Stone Age. At least it seemed that way. So, there was the telephone, which I didn't have any numbers for, and snail mail. Of course, I would never say that around Ann's dad, since Marlin worked for the Post Office. But a letter wasn't exactly the best way to communicate. Or... was it?

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I was folding laundry in my room when I heard the back door slam a little after noon.

"Neil, you got a letter. I think it's from Ann!" my mom yelled from the other side of the house. It took everything in my power not to run. In fact, I was running on the inside. But I forced myself to finish folding the laundry first, my stomach churning as I did, trying to force me to move. I was just finishing up when she walked to my door.

"Did you hear me, honey? You got a letter."

"Yeah, I heard you. I was just trying to finish this up."

She put the envelope on top of the clear Plexiglas that covered my stereo turntable and smiled. "You're doing a very good job."

"Folding?" I asked, looking up at her.

"No. Of trying to look disinterested. You could hurt yourself trying to hold your emotions in like that," she said with a chuckle as she left the room.

I sat on my bed and stared at the envelope for the longest time. It was a light lavender, and larger than normal. There was no return address on the front, but there was no doubt it was from Ann. There were three things that made it obvious to me.

First was the California postal mark. That alone was enough, as I didn't really know anyone that far west that would send me a letter. The second clue was her handwriting, which was as beautiful and fluid as she was. As I closed my eyes, I could still see her writing as she kept score at my softball game. I didn't have to be a handwriting expert to know what was written on the envelope was done by her. But the single most defining thing that told me it was from Ann was the fragrance.

She had sprayed her signature perfume on it, and the aroma filled my room. It was like she was with me, and that filled my heart. If she had typed the address, and had it hand delivered, I still would have known instantly that it was from her. Say what you will about email. It's one of the greatest advancements ever imagined in the realm of communication. But it pales in comparison to having a handwritten letter in your hand that is marked with the scent of a woman.

You can feel a letter; the texture of the paper between your fingers, the indentations from the pen into the parchment. In many ways, it's a living, breathing entity, brought to life by the mind and soul of the person that took the time to put their thoughts to stationary with their own hand. It's more personal. It's more intimate. It's from the heart, and that makes it more precious than any sterile email could ever be.

I watched the envelope, looking for the pulsing movement of the heartbeat that it enclosed, because I was sure there was one inside. Or maybe it was my own heart, pounding with excitement as I thought about Ann. More likely, it was a little of both. Even though I'd spoken to her a couple of times since she'd flown back to California, that letter, no matter what was inside, was a piece of her heart. I could feel it, and I suddenly felt connected to her again. I didn't need her phone number, or her address. I needed that little piece of her heart to know she was really, really mine.

Or, it could have been a Dear John letter. I had to open it.

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Hi Neil,

I'm still in my bedroom on Tuesday night, lying on my bed. It's about 11 o'clock now, three hours or so after we talked on the phone, and Antonio and I have gotten to know each other very, very well over the last couple of hours. I think I'm finally calm enough to write now. I've been so horny since I've gotten back to California, and I know that's all because of you. I miss you, and I want so much to be in your arms right now. But Antonio is making it a little easier. He reminds me so much of you. He's not as good as you are in bed, or out of bed for that matter. But he does fill that 'hole' in my life that feels so empty without you.

I have to tell you something that I know will disappoint you, but you need to know it. I talked with my District Manager on the phone after we talked, and let her know that I'm leaving the company. I knew that this was going to be a long process, because I need to protect my girls in the store. I gave her a two-month notice, but she was looking to try and keep me until after the New Year, through the Christmas season. I told her that that wasn't possible, because I'm getting married at the end of the year. I know we haven't set a date yet, sweetie, and we can talk about setting one whenever you want to. I just had to tell her something so that this didn't drag on forever.

Baby, I had to negotiate, and in the end, I agreed I would work until mid September. I know that's three and a half months, and I'm not any happier about it than you are. It just seems so long. I've gotten used to that big cock of yours inside me, and I'm craving it right now!

Sorry. I had to take another little orgasm break. Antonio sure is learning how to get me off quick (ha-ha) Anyway, as he was fucking me, I realized that this is going to be just as long a wait for you as it is for me, and you don't have a little Renee or anything to help you out. Just your hand. And while I know that we're going to make that work for us most of the time, it made me think about you being alone in context with our conversation tonight (Tuesday night, since you'll be reading this later in the week).

I know I told you on the phone that I was going to set some rules for our sex life. I realize now that that was a terrible thing to say. At least, how I said it was terrible. We're a couple, but we both have feelings. I never really let you have a say in that. And I want to tell you that I'm sorry. I do have ideas about how I want things to be. But I know that you do too. For me to just say I'm going to make up the rules myself was totally wrong of me. We need to discuss these kinds of things, and compromise if we disagree. I love you, and I meant what I said the night you asked me to marry you. I don't think either one of us should wear the pants in our marriage. (I believe that's how you said you wanted it. Ha-ha!)

So, instead of telling you how things are going to be, I'm going to share with you my thoughts on some things. Kind of what I've been thinking about since we've been apart from each other this past week. But I want you to know that this is not me setting the rules. WE need to do that, together.

First, I think it's only fair that I start with myself. Like I've tried to tell you, I'm not interested in fucking any other guy. That's not what any of this is about. I would do it for you, but only if you told me to. And I would insist that you be there with me. Now in saying that, I don't want you to think that I'm asking for a threesome with a guy, because I'm not. It would have to be something you wanted us to do. The key for me is you TELLING me to do it. MAKING me, really.

Really, I think for me, this whole thing I'm feeling is more about just that; you making me do something. Anything! I like the idea that there will be times in our sex life that I will not have a choice. Like what you told me to do over the phone in the sun room at my parent's house. (Telling me to get naked and use the cucumber, in case you needed a reminder. Ha-ha.) I want you to make me explore things that I'd never do. That I'm too scared to do. Neil, I need a man. A man who makes his woman become more vulnerable and more sexual than she ever dreamed she could be. And I know that you're that kind of man, baby. I tingle all over just thinking about what you might do to me, or with me.

I'm not saying we have to be like that all the time. I'm sure there will be times where we both just want a normal life every once in a while. But I want excitement and I want surprises. I want unpredictability. I love the idea that at any moment, something can happen. Our week together falling in love, we lived like that, and I loved being on edge and the way that made me feel. I'm also not saying I want to be a slave or anything. Although I can picture myself being submissive to you. I'd absolutely do that for you, if you want me to. At least occasionally! I just want us to be open with each other sexually.

Neil, I'm trying hard to say all of this without appearing ungrateful for all that you are for me already. I know that I could be married to you, and I'd be amazingly happy in so many ways I couldn't count them. I know I'm blessed to have you, and that you want me. But our week together showed both of us how incredible our life will be if we just stick to what worked. I want us to be all we can be as a couple. But I need to be pushed to do that, just like you did all week long. I promise I'll always be faithful to you, baby. And if and when you decide you want me to explore, in whatever way that may be, I promise I'll be ready to do what you ask me to do. (And make me do. Ha-ha!)

And that brings me to you. I want many of the same things for you. It excites me when I think of your cock exploding. I get wet just thinking about how hard you cum, and how much cum you shoot. And it doesn't matter if it's with me or with someone else when I think about it. Maybe that makes me different or odd; I'm not sure. Just the thought of you ready to cum turns me on so much I can't stand it.

Sorry! I had to take another break. Thinking about you cumming like that got me so hot! Thank God I have Antonio to quench that fire inside my pussy right now. I swear I would have had to fuck the doorknob if he wasn't around. I needed something that thick inside of me. Now, where was I?

Oh, yeah. I'm intrigued by the idea of you being with another woman for me, and with my blessing. It excites me so much. I don't want you to do it much, mind you, but I do like the idea of us being just like we were last week. And a big part of that was just how studly you are. How you've been with other women, and given them pleasure, but you still love me, and want to be with me forever.

I wasn't sure I really felt this way at first, truthfully. I thought it all might have been just from being caught up in the moment while we were together. But I've thought about it long and hard (just like your cock), and I know I loved how it made me feel. I may change my mind about it in the future; I probably will at some point. That's all a part of our relationship evolving every day. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that this turns me on right now.

Here's the key thing, though; the part of it that turns me on. As much as I loved hearing about your weekend in Michigan, or your exploits with Tina, I loved more the ones I had something to do with. And that means I have to be the one to say it's okay. I have to be involved in setting it up, and approving it.

I like the idea of giving you a gift, but still knowing that you love me and that you're going to be mine forever. I know you'd never do anything on your own, or behind my back, Neil. We've both been through too much in our pasts to forget what happened, and I know we're not going to make those kinds of mistakes with each other. And while I truly have always been monogamous in how I think, and I still am in most ways, I've had my eyes opened. I get really excited about the prospect of surprising you, and inventing ways to making you happy. And that's what I'm thinking about when it comes to this. Making us both happy.

I know we need to talk about this more, but I have a pretty good idea that some of this appeals to you too. That's why we're together in the first place; we're so much alike that way. I think I'm right about this, and I would like a chance to prove it to you. So, I have a simple request. I want you to go Saturday night and get a haircut. I've made you an appointment. You need to be there at 8:00 o'clock sharp. If I'm right about us, I can't wait to talk to you about it. If I'm wrong, we'll both know it really soon, and we'll talk about that instead. And either way, it will be okay baby.

This is OUR marriage, and again, I'm so sorry I made it seem like I was trying to tell you how things were going to be. I had no right to do that. I want us both have a say in what we do together. Trust me this once, and let's take it from there. If you decide not to, that's fine. Just call Tina and cancel the appointment. And don't think you'll upset me or disappoint me if you just stay home. I know that I should have handled this better than I did on the phone with you tonight, so whatever you decide, I'll totally understand.

I'll call you late Saturday night one way or another.

Your love forever,

Anna Renee

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The hours between when I ended reading that letter, and when the bell tolled at eight seemed to drag like I was in a Doctor's office, and I had the last appointment of the day, so all I could do was pass the time by reading. So I did. I read that letter over and over again, to the point that I knew it by heart. I could close my eyes and remember the next line like I was reading it for the very first time. I could see her handwriting in my mind.

I was looking for nuances, and hidden meanings, trying to make sure I wasn't hallucinating or misinterpreting what Ann intended. But there weren't any. None that I could find, anyway. And it wasn't for the lack of looking. In the end, I knew I had to make a choice. Either I ignored her request and stayed home, or I went to Tina's shop, not exactly knowing why I was going, but having a pretty good idea.

After stewing about it for several hours, I decided if I was going to marry Ann, I had to trust her. The fact that it was Tina at least made it easier. I knew her well, and it wasn't like it was some blind, random set up. At least, I didn't think it would be. I still wasn't sure about having sex with her. But all of the things in Ann's letter certainly had me horny beyond belief by the time it got close to having to decide whether to go or not. I figured I'd at least see what she had in mind. I could always explain the situation to Tina and masturbate when I got home.

So, I threw on the same trusty gym shorts that I wore that first time with Tina, and went commando. I put on a big T-shirt to help hide my impending bulge, and I grabbed my wallet. Dressed as I was, my mom didn't bat an eye or even ask where I was going, assuming I was off to play some hoop somewhere. It was a likely scenario; one that she'd seen many times.

I drove downtown, but I wasn't in a particular hurry. I figured whatever was going on that Ann had planned, I'd know pretty quickly. Having read the letter countless times, I had to assume she intended for me to fuck Tina. It was the only natural conclusion I could draw. With that in mind, I knew what to look for when I approached her shop.

Usually, if either Tina or I had called the other to set up a little carnal relief, she would have the 'closed' sign in the door. Otherwise, she always had the 'open' sign in sight, right up to closing time. I drove slowly past the storefront on Main Street, and quickly saw that the sign said closed. I also saw that the light was on in the back of the shop, a surefire signal that she was there, and waiting.