. 04

Standard disclaimer—this story takes place in a world where STDs don't exist and only babies planned for and wanted do—in other words, a fantasy world. Any resemblance to real-life people is purely coincidental.

Tim was up at first light the next morning, on his way down to the condo job site to meet Cliff and make a last check on their work before the drywallers began in the first of the buildings on Monday. Gwen had risen with him to ensure he ate before he left, one of his old workshirts her only cover as she moved about the kitchen.

"Thinking of posing again?" Tim laughed, grabbing her by the waist as she stood at the counter. Worn jeans pushed the tails of the shirt into the crevice of her bare bottom. "Or just trying to get me to stay home this morning?" A hand snaked around and began to stroke her stomach.

"You said you like me in this," Gwen explained as she wiped at the surface with a sponge, "and I would love for you to stay here. You work too hard. But I also know that this shirt might delay you for a little bit, but will definitely not stop you."

He laughed, but didn't argue her statement. She decided now was a good as time as any to talk to him about her upcoming trip to Barry's.

"And speaking of posing, is it alright with you if I go with Natalie to Atlanta next Friday?"

Tim's breath caught at the thought that his wife was going back for another session. "Atlanta? Like to where you went last time?" He asked hopefully as his hand stopped mid-circle just above her mons.

"Sort of. To Barry's studio this time, Natalie's posing for him," she hurriedly explained. "She just wants me along for company."

His hand crept down a fraction, a couple of fingers now into the top of her thatch, then froze again. "Same kind of photos?"

"Racier, I guess." Gwen tempered her urge to tell him his sister in law would not be the only model with the desire to leave her some privacy.

"Brave girl," Tim offered. "But she's got the looks for it. So do you. Maybe something you want to try again some time?"

The Slut guffawed at the idea her own husband was unwittingly suggesting she pose naked with another woman. "Oh, I could never do that again, once was enough," she said over her shoulder at the face just inches from her neck. "Didn't you like those?"

"I did, very much. That's why I can always hope for more."

"Well, don't get those hopes up. Natalie's much braver than me." Despite her declaration, the thought of revealing all for the camera again sent a shudder of excitement through her. Maybe just delaying his departure would be enough to satisfy her growing desire. "So, are you going to stay home this morning?"

Tim laughed and backed away. "I'd love to, but I'm sure Cliff's got things to do, too." Gwen's confused look back at him prompted him explain further. "He's meeting me there, remember? But, I'll hurry home if you're still gonna be dressed like this."

"This would be a fine outfit to be in if one of your friends stopped by to borrow another trailing motor," she grumbled. "How about I wear whatever you think would be best once you get home."

"Trolling motor, I've only got two, and I'm not loaning out my other one," he laughed. "But I'm all about compromisin'. I'll hurry home, dear."

The shirt was exchanged for barn clothes after his truck had disappeared down the driveway, and she made her way out to tend to the horses. The Slut teased her with crazy ideas while she mucked stalls, of perhaps posing again for Barry someday as Tim had suggested. The idle fantasies grew bolder. Maybe Liz would be unable to make it, and she would be asked to fill in...

Don't be absurd, the Lady chided. Exposing yourself for a stranger to lust over—out of the question! And what you and Natalie have been doing in private is bad enough! No one else needs to even have a hint of that!

You've exposed yourself before, the Slut reminded her. You liked it, and your audience liked it. Gwen angrily tossed the last forkful into the wheelbarrow. The fantasy was certainly appealing, and the long-practiced moral obligation to resist the temptation irritated her. Her imagination had also rekindled what Tim had awakened that morning, and she wondered how long she would have to wait before he would be back to satisfy it.

He's more likely to want me if I don't smell like horse manure and sweat, she told herself, and headed for the house and a shower. Gwen thoroughly soaped her breasts, nipples hardening from the attention before stepping back under the warm spray. The handheld nozzle was used to rinse the suds from between her legs, the pulsing jets making her tingle long after the soap was gone. Gwen reluctantly shut off the water and dried herself. The debate over what to wear raged as she absentmindedly drew the thick towel over her erect nubs and between her upper thighs. She had more or less promised Tim his workshirt would be featured when he arrived; would it be more prudent to dress appropriately until she heard his truck, or at least knew he was on his way?

On the other hand, the Slut suggested, there was no telling when Tim would be home; it could be tonight if they found any serious problems—he would never leave his work in a less than finished state. Maybe she should take care of herself now and let him have his way with her when he did return? Satisfying her growing need would certainly allow her to devote her full attention to satisfying his lust later...perhaps now would be a good time to examine Natalie's most recent gift more closely.

It was still in her nightstand where she had thrown it yesterday. Gwen delicately picked up the faux penis and removed the sticky note after again briefly considering Natalie's mysterious message. It was hard to believe they made these thicker than the one she already had...her practical side tried to compare its diameter to the various PVC sections currently in the workshop storage.

The electronic trill of the telephone on the nightstand made her hurriedly drop the dildo back into the drawer and slam it shut as if to hide the rubber cock from the caller.

It's just Tim, calling to tell you he's on the way home, she told herself. "Hello?"

"Hi Gwen, it's Adam."

She panicked, her first impulse to ask her brother to hold or call back so she could be appropriately dressed. The Slut snickered at the idea that she had to presentable for a phone call. She compromised by juggling the phone from one ear to the other as she reached for her robe.

"Hi Adam, how are you?" A sudden sense of dread swept over her. Her brother rarely called, preferring to text or talk face-to-face whenever possible. "My ears are sore by the end of the week from holding a phone up to them," he once explained. So, why was he calling now? The Lady triumphantly presented the likelihood that he found the friendship between his sister and his wife distasteful. Or maybe Natalie had not been completely truthful enough with her husband? Gwen had preferred not to think about the possibility that maybe he had not known about some of their activities.

"I'm fine, Gwen, everything OK up on the hill? How's the business?"

"We're all good here, business is great—Tim's at a job site right now, as a matter of fact," she answered warily as her heart pounded from the rush of nervous adrenaline.

"Good, that's good," her brother replied distractedly. "Listen, Gwen I just called, to, uhh, I just called to say to thank you for going to Atlanta with Natalie next week."

"Oh, uh, you're welcome?" The panicked woman desperately tried to sort the implications of what she was hearing.

"I would have gone with her myself, but I think Nat was worried she and Liz wouldn't be able to, uhh, concentrate if I was there. I'm just glad there's going to be someone with common sense and their clothes to keep an eye on things. Barry seems like a nice enough guy, but you never know...and Liz is definitely the alpha female when she and Natalie get together. No telling what she might put my wife up to."

"I'm sure everything will be fine. Barry was very professional when I—" Gwen stopped, unwilling to admit to her brother what he probably already knew about her own experience with the photographer. "Anyways, I'm glad to hear she told you I was going. I wouldn't have felt right about it otherwise."

"Oh yeah, Natalie has never been one to hide things from me. Made it very clear how she was when we first started seeing each other and has been very open about ...things...ever since. Speaking of which," Adam hesitated, his embarrassment apparent. "It's probably a really good idea that Mother and Dad not find out just how good friends you two have become, if you know what I mean."

Gwen fought the urge to vomit. He knew! A part of her was relieved—she truly didn't want to cheat on her own brother like that—but the idea that he was aware his wife and sister were doing "something" just seemed so wrong! And now it was out in the open.

"Well, I'm glad she told you about that, too. I'm—I'm sorry," Gwen managed to mumble.

"For what?" he replied nonchalantly. "To tell the truth, I couldn't believe it when she first told me—I mean, you always struck me as a younger version of mother when it came to things like sex. Hell, I just assumed you and Tim hadn't been, you know, together, since you got pregnant with KD. So when Natalie told me you weren't quite the Ice Queen everybody saw in public and asked if I was OK with that, I have to admit I was floored. Look, I don't know the details, and I don't want to know. When Liz and Natalie are together, I get the complete play-by-play because I'm a guy, and it's fun to think about. But I asked Nat not to tell me any of the details between you two—it's too weird to be thinking of your own sister like that, know what I mean? You'll always be my big sister who used to chase me out of her room when I tried to take your horse dolls for my action figures to ride."

"Those were sculptures, and very valuable."

Adam laughed. "Well, like I said, it's best if you two keep your, umm, extracurricular activities on the down-low. Dad would probably think it's just another example of Natalie trying to somehow wreck the law firm, and mother, after she recovered from the heart attack she'd almost certainly have over the news, would try to have Nat killed for setting up the Curran family for ridicule by the town's most prominent citizens."

"Oh, Dad wouldn't possibly think that," Gwen half-heartedly dismissed. On the other hand, she thought, Adam's prediction of her mother's reaction was probably too mild.

"Are you kidding? Dad knows Nat talks with the staff at the firm–he thinks she's trying to agitate labor unrest. I think the only reason I got made a partner at the age I did was to keep me in the family business and make it harder for me to be on the side of the employees. I mean, first Steven goes to the West Coast to work for somebody else, then you get a manual-labor job and fail to marry some promising young talent for the good of the firm. I'm sure he thought Natalie was going to use her womanly charms to convince me to quit and become an ambulance chaser, or God forbid, a public defender!" The silence was proof enough his sister knew he was not far from the truth.

"So, does Tim know?"

Gwen's answer wavered between defiant and apologetic. "Yes."

"Good. And he's OK with it?"

"He says he is, yes."

"He's a good man, Gwen. He loves you and deserves the truth. Trust me, I've been part of this long enough to know that it only works if all parties are consenting and agreeable. I know mother freaked out when you decided to marry a man who unclogs toilets for a living, but even she admits now that he's a decent, upstanding small business owner. I even heard her compliment you two to one of her friends at the country club, about how you built a successful business despite having a working-class husband as a partner."

"Tim built the business. I just did the books and made him dinner," Gwen objected. "But don't worry, the last thing I would ever want is Mother and Dad to know about me and Natalie being friends...really good friends. I think it drives them crazy just to see us talking nicely to each other during Sunday dinner."

"Well, anyways, your secret is safe with me, and the details are safe from me. Hey, I gotta go. Golf with clients at noon."

"Thanks for calling, Adam. I appreciate it. It really made me feel better...about all of this."

"I was the one calling to thank you, remember? Take care."

"You too."

Gwen sat on the edge of the bed for some time, lost in thought. Nobody who knew the secret of the depths of her depravity seemed to judge her harshly for it, even those who should be most offended. She was the only one who was concerned with the erosion of her moral fiber.

You have good reason to be concerned, the Lady argued. Good, upstanding people don't act like immoral perverts!

Maybe good, upstanding people do, the Slut countered. They just don't make a big deal of it, and the world doesn't see how much variety there is in other people's lives.

Time slipped away as the debate raged on. The sound of the business phone in the kitchen finally broke her spell. She hurried down the hall and caught it just before it went to the machine.

"Nelson Plumbing, may I help you?"

"Nelson Plumbing, here too, and probably for a while. Hey Gwen, it's me. Some of the first units we did haven't survived the other guys that were in after. Got some odds and ends to do, gonna be a few hours. ."

"Well, that's not good. Do you need me to bring anything down?"

"Nah, we got everything on the truck. Be home as soon as I can. Are you still wearing what you had on when I left?"

"Tim! I would rather Cliff not hear about my clothing choices!"

Her husband laughed. "He won't if you speak quietly. He's a couple of units down, checking the stuff we did Friday. It's just me and you in this basic corner condo with wall studs and no air-conditioning."

Gwen smiled as the flicker of a scandalous thought began to grow. It might be fun to wipe the almost-certain-to-be-present cocky smile off her husband's face. "Well, in that case, then no, I'm not wearing it. I'm not wearing anything at all, if you must know." She decided the robe only constituted a small fib.

His tone of voice told her she had succeeded. "Really? Where are you right now?"

Where else would you be if you were naked, the Lady shouted. What kind of woman did he think you were? "The office. You know the air conditioner in here just doesn't keep up." Another small fib to really put him—and the Lady-- back on their heels.

"Holy shit! I'd better get to work. I gotta see this!"

"It will be here when you get home. Don't hurt yourself hurrying through the repairs."

"Gonna be hard to concentrate..."

"Try. I'll see you when you get home. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Gwen wondered what to do next. She had grocery shopping to do, but she also promised to be waiting for Tim when he returned, whenever that was. There were certainly other chores to be done around the house, there were always chores...there was also a need that had flared and waned throughout the morning. She really should take care of her own business now, all the better to completely focus on her husband's satisfaction when he was ready. Gwen gave in and headed back to the bedroom.

You certainly didn't have these interruptions to your day when you kept your perversion under control, the Lady grumbled. The Lady squealed in delight at the thought of another orgasm.

Gwen took her time, pulling out her various toys and laying them on the bed as a surgeon might lay out their operating instruments before shucking her robe. She lay still for a few moments, fingers gently caressing her bare skin, quieting the Lady's feeble attempts to rouse her and get the laundry going while the Slut began to conjure lurid images of Gwen in increasingly obscene situations. Her touch flitted over erect nipples and the thickening patch of hair on her pubic mound, retreating then advancing again to her erogenous zones.

Somebody could be watching you through the bedroom window right now, the Slut suggested, a thought the ever-practical Gwen knew was not possible. Her shades were always closed whenever she showered or changed, but her left eye quickly opened to confirm the assumption nonetheless. The Slut was undeterred. But what if it was open?

Gwen rose and went to the window, peering out between the wooden blinds to check for visitors before pulling the shade up and returning to the bed. Her eyes closed and a stranger—no, two—now peeked in as her fingers resumed their travels.

The naked woman's legs spread enough for a hand to gently push a digit down along her furrow, delicately brushing across the lips that lay just beneath. The finger continued on to the skin between her sex and her bottom, stopping just short of where it would need to push between her cheeks to continue on. It began its trip back up and dipped into her opening just deeply enough to pick up some of the moisture that had been collecting then spread it across the tops of her lips before quickly circling her clitoris.

Her finger continued to make passes up and down her slit, pushing in more deeply each time and only stopping once her cheeks prohibited any further travel while the fantasy men at the window watched with interest.

Gwen began to relish the halting of her finger so close to the most dirty and forbidden of places that lay tucked underneath her. It was such a nasty act, a slutty act, to touch yourself there, she told herself, and I'm so close to it ...distant memories of Miss Ritter's dalliances "back there" supplanted the faces in the window. She had forgotten her surprise of just how sensitive her rosebud was when her instructor had first caressed it all those years ago, labeling the pleasurable sensation as particularly wrong and perverted and blocking them out. And now those memories had been unlocked. Temptation overtook her. Gwen spread her legs and tilted her hips to give her finger access and let it slide across the wrinkled muscle.

Long-ignored nerves jumped at the feeling of skin and she could imagine the muscle contracting at her touch in a lewd wink just as she had made Miss Ritter's do. Contact made, her finger retreated to her sex to pick up some moisture and spread it around her puckered ring. Her other hand found her clitoris and began to circle it with an extended digit

The pure perversion of what she was doing was driving her to her climax, but she wanted more. The hand tormenting her clit left and groped to her line of toys, finding the latest addition on feel alone and bringing it into position between her legs. Gwen paused, aware her fingers were not even close to wrapping around the massive tool and suddenly doubtful the cudgel she held would fit inside her. Nonetheless, she was determined to try and carefully began to part her lips with the bulbous head . Gwen could feel her opening stretch to accept the tapered length as it flared to its full circumference, bulling its way towards her womb until the cock's base bumped up against the fingers that were still caressing her rosebud.

She felt full, not uncomfortably so, but enough so to make her wonder if she had found her limit. The nerves about her opening vied with those just a few inches below as to which opening could send the stronger waves of pleasure. Her clit cried out to be in on the action as well. Gwen left the dildo lodged inside her—no chance of that going anywhere, she mused—and reached for the Magic Wand. Even on low, the steady throb of the vibrator proved to be the piece that took her over the edge. She had the presence of mind to remove her hand from between her legs as she thrashed through her orgasm, vibrator pushed against her slit and dildo remaining firmly in place despite her silent convulsions.