Christy Chris And Jack

"Christy and I met on Valentines day," Chris told Jack as they sat down at the breakfast table.

Christy, Chris' wife, answered from where she was making breakfast at the stove, "If I remember correctly, you'd gotten drunk at the O.K. Corral and fallen and cracked your head while trying to stumble home."

"Yup," answered Chris. "I crashed headfirst into the steps of the 1st Presbyterian Church."

Christy brought two plates of pancakes and sausages to the table, and stopped behind Jack to pour him a cup of coffee. The obvious adoration that wife had for husband was apparent with each word. It made the hairs on the back of Jack's neck stand up and a tingle ran from his head to the base of his spine. "He was charming, even with the smell of stale beer and all the blood. He went on and on about angels of mercy and how he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his whole life. "

Jack could completely understand his friend's infatuation. Christy was beautiful, in every meaning of the word. Tall and leggy, she had honey blonde hair that brushed just below her shoulder blades, and matched her eyes perfectly. Long lashes gave her and innocent, child-like look, but there was nothing child-like about the build of the rest of her body. Her breasts were small, but full, and her belly flat and trim.

He felt her breast brush the side of his cheek as she leaned forward and poured his coffee. Unconsciously, he breathed in and his nostrils were filled with a soft, musky scent from the nape of her neck. He noticed the gentle sweep of her arm, flowing to her graceful wrist and hand. Suddenly, he stiffened. Her rich voice stirred something deep inside him. Jack wasn't sure if it was the sound of her voice, or her scent, but for a flash, he was jealous, and wanted to possess what his friend had.

In his mind's eye, Jack envisioned his friend's wife, wrapped in his arms, willingly receiving his passionate kisses. He thought of loving her right there, laying her out on the table, her long blonde hair wrapped in his fingers. He pictured how her slender body would feel as he rocked her gently below him. Quickly his mind calculated how her pert breasts would fit perfectly in his large hands, in his greedy mouth. He pondered the taste of her honeyed lips, and the sound of her sultry voice passionately whispering softly his name over, and over, "Honey... Jack... Jack, Honey... Jack..."

Jack startled out of his daydream to see his friends gazing quizzically across the table at him. "Honey, Jack? For your coffee?" Christy offered him a plastic bear filled with tasty honey. Jack shook his head as a flush spread from his neck up into his cheeks. He quickly stuffed a bite of pancake into his mouth and lowered his head so his friends would not see his embarrassment. He didn't dare draw any more attention than he already had. He'd come to breakfast in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and if he stood now, his discomfort would be obvious to all of them.

"So, how did a jerk like him wind up with an angel like you?" Jack joked.

"After I sobered up, the ER docs explained how lucky I was that someone found me. It was February, below zero, and snowing outside. I could have died if I had laid there all night in the snow. All I could think about was the lovely angel who had showed up and rescued me. I didn't know if it was a real person or not, but if it was, I vowed that if I ever found that girl, I'd love her forever." Chris replied.

Christy just smiled. "Chris came back to the church early every Sunday morning for almost a year to see if he could figure out who it was. He would stand on the bottom step, trying to put a face to his angel. Each time I would pass him, I'd smile, but he didn't realize it was me. Eventually, he came inside instead of standing on the steps."

"There was something about her... we went on a few dates," interrupted Chris, "But I was looking for an angel, not a real girl."

Christy smiled at her husband and ran her fingers softly through his hair. "One Sunday, he didn't come. I was worried, so I asked about him to a friend. She said that Chris had gone on a bender the night before—railing on about how there weren't angels and how God was a bastard. He'd gotten thrown out of the bar and was sleeping it off in the cell at the city jail. I was so mad at him that I marched out of choir practice, stomped down to the police station, and--"

"And she marched in and demanded that I be released." Chris interrupted. "When the jailer asked who she was, she didn't miss a beat, she just said 'I'm his wife.' She still had on her white choir robe, and I was still pretty drunk, so I jumped up saying 'the Angel has returned to set me free...'"

"And promptly fell face first into the bars and broke his nose." Christy laughed.

Jack's eyes shot up. "You said you broke your nose in a bar fight..."

"The bars won," Christy, said, the picture of decorum.

"The sergeant was laughing when he let me out—he told me that the tongue lashing 'the missus' was gonna' give me would be worse punishment than anything the court would give. "

"And he was right... my tongue lashing was quite thorough." Christy said, a wicked smile spreading across her face.

"Left me weak in the knees," quipped Chris, wearing a grin to match his wife's.

Jack's imagined Christy's pouty mouth and soft tongue, slowly, languidly, torturing Chris' cock, and his ached in sympathy.

"After that, it was really only a matter of time," Chris said, gazing lovingly at his wife. "I asked her to marry me two weeks later. She said no."

"Eventually, though, my good looks and charm won her over." Chris joked. "On Valentines Day, 1 year after she picked me up out of the snow we made it official."

"Best Valentines day I ever had," Christy said, smiling wistfully.

"Best Valentines day night _I_ ever had," commented Chris. Christy blushed furiously, and arching an eyebrow at her, Jack wondered just how good a night it was.