Dealing with Change

Some of the characters referred to in this story also appear in my story series titled A Week in Boise and in parts of Mothers and Daughters. It isn't necessary to have read those series, but it would be helpful to have read Chapter One of this series.

It was late when I received my husband Rich's selfie sent in response to the erotic video I had sent him. Within an hour or so after I sent the video to Rich I had sobered up enough to ask myself, "Oh shit, what I have done."

Sure it had been erotic watching through a crack in the fence as our handsome new neighbor, Carl, sat naked, masturbating while he talked dirty on a speaker phone with his wife, Christina;

Sure the three glasses of wine I drank with lunch as I thought about Christina's ambiguous statements about seducing Rich and I had made me even hornier;

Sure I returned from lunch still a bit drunk and unbelievably horny;

Sure it was true that Rich and I had a freewheeling sex life in our youth but with the passage of time, raising of kids, and the other things that make life complicated our sex life had deteriorated from a steaming boil to a mild simmer; and.

Sure I wanted to get back to something closer to the steamy, wild, time of our youth;

But what in god's name made me think it would be a good idea to shave my pussy, make a sex tape of myself lying naked on our bed, my legs spread lewdly fucking myself with a big dildo while I recorded filthy, lurid, tales from our past, and then send it as an attachment to a text message to my husband?

With the text message carrying the video launched I sat for hours worrying about how Rich would react to it. I was scared to death he would be offended and lecture me about being a slut, a pervert, or worse. The longer I waited for a response the more I worried. What the hell was I thinking. Forty-four-year-old stay at home housewives and mothers of two grown children don't send sex tapes to their husbands. It was so improper. Now I know I told you before that I don't do guilt. But I wasn't suffering from guilt. It was fear. I truly loved Rich and I couldn't conceive of living without him.

About 10:30 my iPhone went ping. I could tell it was a responsive message from Rich. I was afraid to open it. There was no text. Just an attachment. "Oh god what have I done," I wailed, too scared to open the attachment. I just stared at it for at least ten minutes.

When I finally broke down and opened it, my heart leaped in joy. It wasn't anything condemning me for being a valueless slut or worse. It was instead a selfie of Rich sitting naked, his engorged cock in his hand and a pool of cum running down his chest. Success! My sex tape had made him horny and he had jerked off while watching it. Just as I had asked him to do on the tape.

"Now how to respond?" I asked myself. I considered a long list of lewd options. Finally I stripped off my top and sent him a selfie of my naked tits with the caption, "These will be waiting for you when you get home tomorrow."

He responded immediately with, "Yum. We have a lot to talk about. I love you. See you tomorrow. Good night."

I spent Friday alternating between lust, as I thought about Rich's lewd selfie, and worry based on the part of his last message in which he said, "We have a lot to talk about." Yes he said he loved me and yes he said "yum" about my topless selfie, but when your spouse says, 'we have a lot to talk about,' it isn't necessarily positive. Did he want a divorce? Did he have a new woman in his life? "No you're paranoid," I told myself. It was a long day.

Rich got home earlier than I expected. I had just returned from the grocery store. I was wearing a denim A-frame skirt that ended a couple of inches above my knees and a cotton blouse that buttoned down the front. The skirt buttoned up the front. I was looking out the living room window when I saw his car coming up the street. Time to go all in, I thought as lust triumphed over fear. I sprinted to the bathroom where I pulled my panties off, shed my blouse and bra, and opened all but the highest button on my skirt. Then, as I heard the garage door open, fear made a modest comeback (but not enough to completely conquer lust mind you). I put my blouse back on and buttoned it up as I hurried to the kitchen. I was leaning against the kitchen entrance door jamb as he entered from the door to the garage at the other end, carrying a bottle of wine and his luggage. Setting both on the floor he stood staring at me. I said, "Hi. You're early ." He responded by walking quickly across the kitchen and wrapping his arms around me. We kissed for a long time. The best kiss we had in months or maybe years. Tongues dueling, hands roaming. He was pulling my ass up so I could feel his erect cock pressing against my belly and my mound against his thigh. I was rubbing my boobs against his chest. He was rubbing his thigh against my mound. It felt delicious. It was more of a mutual assault than just a kiss.

When he pulled back to breath he said, "My god I love you."

"Oh god yes. Me too," I responded. "I was so afraid."

"Afraid? Afraid of what?"

"Afraid I had gone too far yesterday. Afraid you would be offended by the lewd video I sent you."

He laughed, "Silly woman. Didn't my masturbation selfie answer that concern?"

"Yes, but . . ." I paused . . . "But it had been so long . . . I mean so long since we did anything like that, and I was worried that . . ."

Rich interrupted. "That I didn't love you? That could never be true. But it's true we have a lot to talk about. Let me open this wine and we'll talk."

He dug around in a kitchen drawer for a corkscrew while I retrieved a pair of wine glasses from a cupboard. I had to stand on my toes to reach them and I deliberately pushed my ass out as I reached for the glasses. I wasn't sure whether he was watching or not, but it felt wanton. I was enjoying feeling that way for the first time in years. When I finally turned around I decided he had been watching. He was leaning against the counter, unopened wine bottle in one hand and the corkscrew in the other. He smiled and said, "You probably should just take that blouse clear off, Dear. It looks a little odd the way it is buttoned and you promised me a good stare at your tits—not just a nipple peeking out. Remember?"

I looked down at my blouse and saw that in my haste to finish shedding my undergarments I had closed the blouse with the buttons out of proper alignment. There were two open buttonholes in the middle of the shirt. The gap was giving Rich a perfect view of an engorged nipple. I laughed and said, "Oops." Then I released the rest of the buttons and tossed the blouse in a corner as I watched him remove the cork from the wine bottle. I held my tits out to him for a moment and then walked toward him, trying to shake and shimmy my breasts as I approached. On each step my mostly unbuttoned dress fell away exposing much of the inside of a bare thigh. It must have been working because he was staring with his mouth open.

Rich was standing next to the table holding the newly opened bottle of wine. "Put that down and sit in the chair," I said. "We can drink the wine and talk later. There is something else I want now." I pushed down on his shoulder and he sank easily into the chair. I dropped to my knees between his legs and began massaging his rapidly hardening cock through his suit trousers. I put my face down and rubbed it against his now fully erect cock—first one cheek then the other. He groaned. I reached up with my hands and released his belt and the fastener on his slacks. I slowly pulled the zipper down, letting my fingers brush against his hardening member as I went. Sliding a hand inside I began to fondle his cock through his jockey shorts. But I wanted more. Grabbing the top of his trousers I said, "Move your ass, so I can get these off." Rich was silent, in shock I think. I hadn't treated him this way in years. In one quick move I had his trousers and his jockey shorts down and pooled around his feet, his legs spread at the knees assuring my access. He still had his coat and tie on but they didn't matter for what I wanted to do.

I sat back on my haunches staring at his cock, realizing this was the first time I had seen it erect in months or maybe even years. When we had made love in recent years it had just been a quick missionary fuck under the covers after we retired for the night. Now I was on my knees before him like a cheap whore. It was exciting as hell and I was just plain randy. I stared at his engorged prick for almost a minute. It occasionally twitched on its own showing his arousal matched mine. I reached out with one hand and slowly stroked the shaft, starting just below the beautiful plum shaped head and softly dragging my fingers down until I reached his balls. I leaned forward and licked them, first one and then the other. Then I dragged my tongue up the underside of his cock, reversing the path my fingers had just taken. When I reached the head I began licking and fondling it with my tongue, while my hand stroked the shaft I had just coated with my saliva.

"Sharon what . . ."

"Shhhh," I interrupted him. "I'm giving you a blow job. You do remember those don't you?" I hoped I still remembered how. It had been years since we had done this, but I'd been quite good at it in college. Without waiting for an answer I sucked the head of his cock into my mouth, massaging it with my tongue.

Rich responded with a gasp followed by "Oh fuck." I took that as approval.

For the next ten or so minutes I gave him the best blow job I could remember how to do. I couldn't deep throat him (too strong a gag reflex and too big a cock) but I took him to the back of my throat repeatedly, sucking hard as I pulled back each time. I twisted my head from side to side rubbing the head of his prick against the inside of my cheeks. I slobbered my saliva down the sides of his shaft and maintained a steady twisting stroke with my hands. I used the tip of my tongue to tease that sensitive tissue just behind and below his cock head and to tease the opening at the tip of his cock that I knew would squirt his jism when I finished, all the while the while looking up at him to try to maintain eye contact, letting know this blow job was about him and not some other fantasy that occupied me.

I pulled my face back and stared at him. I was still stroking his cock with that twisting motion that I remembered had driven him wild in the past. Looking straight at him I said, "Is this good Rich? As I am as good as that whore you were with last night?

"What? Whore? What whore? No I wasn't . . ." I sucked his cock back into my mouth. "Oh fuck," He gasped. "No, no, no. I wasn't with a whore . . . not last night."

I let his cock pop out of my mouth. "Oh, was it some other night?"

"No. No. I don't do whores."

"Then what do you do at night?" I asked, before sucking his cock back into my mouth.

"Arrrrrgh. I watch porn and masturbate." I could tell he was close to cumming.

"Hmmm. You're going to have to tell me all about the different kinds of porn you watch. Is some of it like what I sent you last night? Do you like to watch women masturbate?"

"Yes," he gasped. "Oh fuck, I'm going to cum."

I rose up on my knees so my tits were even with his cock. Then I began to stroke it furiously with both hands. It only took a moment. He groaned and I watched a shiny string of his cum squirt from the end of his dick and lace a trail across my tits. Three more ejaculations followed each marked by a grunt from Rich. The second and third painted my face with scattered drops in my hair. The last was just dribbling from the end of his cock when I leaned forward and slurped it up. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed the taste of cum.

Rich was laying back in the chair gasping, his feet still tangled in his trousers and underpants with his knees pushed to the side to accommodate me. I was sitting back on my haunches between his knees with his cum dripping off my face and tits and a shit eating grin on my face. "Welcome home," I said.

He responded with a long drawn out, "Fuck."

"Is that all you can say."

"I don't know. Maybe."

I turned to the side and unlaced one and then the other of his shoes pulling each off along with socks and his pants and underwear all of which I tossed to the side. I had forgotten about the submissive kink I always felt kneeling before a man while I unlaced his shoes and removed them. My god I was horny.

I rose and sat on the tabletop, pulling my dress up and over my naked mid-section before I sat down. The table felt cool on my bare ass. I spread my legs and lay back, exposing myself shamelessly. "Now there is something I want from you, Rich." I lay on my back, legs spread obscenely, as I rubbed my shining pussy lips.

Rich was still sitting in the chair, naked from the waist down. "You shaved," he said staring at my morning's handiwork with a razor.

"Yes. Do you like it?"

"Yes."

"I am glad Rich, but what I want right now is for you to eat me. Do you remember how Rich?"

"Fuck yes," he said, pulling his chair forward so he was sitting between my legs with his face nearly in direct contact with my pussy. He was almost drooling.

"Good. Do it then Rich. Eat me out and make me cum. Use your tongue and your fingers. Suck on my clit. You know how. Do it like you used to, Rich." I felt like such a slut lying on a kitchen table, my legs spread obscenely, my face and chest covered with still gleaming jism, begging the man who put it there to eat my pussy and make me cum. I hadn't felt this depraved in years. The feeling was marvelous. No guilt. Just unbridled lust as I begged this man to make me cum.

He remained sitting, staring at my gleaming sex as he stripped off his coat, tie, and dress shirt leaving him naked. He reached out with one finger, just one obscene finger, his middle finger standing out as though to say, 'fuck you.' He slid it slowly into my slippery wet cunt. Oh yes. So nasty. I gasped in enjoyment of his lewd invasion. It wasn't just that he was finger fucking me. It was that he was staring in obvious enjoyment. Finally he spoke. "You are a dirty girl aren't you Sharon," something he hadn't called me in years.

"Yes," I responded. "I'm your dirty girl. Your slut." I began rubbing my tits smearing his cum all about them.

"Fuck," he swore. Then it was two fingers. Followed by a third, fucking my shaven twat with wanton abandon. Then his other hand began to lightly stroke my engorged clit. It was so fucking good.

"No Rich. Do it with your tongue. Make me cum with your tongue like you used to do."

He laughed, "Oh is that what you want you wanton cunt?"

"Yes, oh God yes that is exactly what I want. Now quit screwing around and get on with it."

He leaned forward putting his lewd tongue to work, licking my swollen labia, sucking on them, nibbling on them, tonguing the sensitive flesh between them, all the while continuing to probe my cunny with his fingers and to lightly stroke my clit with his free hand.

"Your tongue Rich. Your tongue. Use your tongue on my clit like you used to." He pulled his fingers from my clit, leaving the other hand busily finger fucking me. He used the newly freed hand to pinch and twist one nipple and then the other. I gasped and shrieked with each erotic bolt of pain.

I was so close. I could feel my orgasm waiting out there. Winding itself up to ravage and tear through my body when . . . when . . . if . . . if he would only put that long, beautiful, obscene tongue on my clit. I whined. I cried out. I swore. I begged. "Do it Rich. Do it to me. Do me with your tongue. Now please. Now."

And then he did and I screamed as the orgasm I had been seeking, waiting for, wanting, needing, lusting after, rushed through me. I crushed his head between my thighs as the first wave, then the second, then the third, and then, oh god I don't know how many more, tore threw me, arching my back, my hands pushing his head into me as he continued to lick my clit. It seemed to go on forever, my screams reverberating off the kitchen walls. But it didn't of course. No orgasm lasts forever because that would be death. I reached the point where my body said enough, my arched back collapsed and I pushed his head away. I lay on my back crying, not from any emotion beyond the shear release from the tension leading up to the orgasm, a tension that had started two days earlier when I first peered through the fence at our beautiful god like neighbor Carl sunbathing in the nude.

Rich waited until I stopped crying, stopped gasping for air. He reached out with a hand and pulled me up so I was sitting atop the table, my legs remaining on either side of him and my single remaining garment, my skirt, still bunched around my waist. "Wow, you were intense," he said.

"Yes," I responded. "It's been a while."

"Yes. Too long."

"Oh god, yes," I agreed. "Way too long." I sat scraping his slowly drying cum away from my eyes and then sucking it from my fingers. How long was it I wondered since the last time I sucked this man's cock, since the last time he ate me to a screaming orgasm, since I had to clean his cum off my face, my tits, and from my hair? Yes how long? I dearly loved sucking his cock and being driven to an orgasm by his tongue . . . oh my god the pleasure defied words.

"Did we knock the wine off the table?"

He laughed. "No, but I don't know why, the way you were trashing about."

I smiled. "You caused that." I swung my legs around him and stepped down from the table, my legs still a bit shaky. I stripped off my skirt so I was naked like Rich. "Let's have some wine," I said. "I guess we have some things to talk about."

"Yes," he responded. He poured the wine and I found a towel to clean the worst of the cum from my face not bothering with my hair which I would wash later.

He finished his first glass of wine in silence staring at me. Finally he said, "Are you still in love with me?"

"Oh god yes. I can't imagine living without you."

He smiled. "Good. I feel the same about you."

"I suppose we should talk about what happened today," I said.

"We had a good fuck," he said.

"It was good," I said, "But technically the fucking part will come later. I'm not done with you yet mister. But that was the first time we've done that in how long?"

"Oh god. Years."

"Yes. Why?"

"Why? We got busy. Making a living, raising a family. Doing what grown up people do. Life happens."

"Yes. You're right. That's exactly what we did. A mistake lots of people make. And believe me Rich, I have no desire to go back to where we were before today. But what brought us back?"

"You're asking me after that lewd video you sent me?"

I laughed. "Well I was a little drunk and very horny. After I sent it I was petrified that it would offend you."

"I hope you relaxed when I sent you my selfie."

"Yes. Oh shit yes. But I have to tell you even now I was . . . no even now I am still . . . a little shocked. You haven't done anything like that in years."

"Let me tell you a little bit more about my trip. There was more to it than selling software."

"There was?" I asked. What could he have done on a business trip that had that effect on him? Now I was worrying a bit again.

"When I got on the plane in Spokane for my Wednesday night flight to Boise I was surprised to find myself seated next to our new neighbor, Christina. She was on her way to Boise to give a lecture. We got to talking and she explained that she does lectures on how married couples can spice up their sex life. She doesn't exactly advertise them that way, but that is what the substance is. We chatted a bit about it and then parted ways to different hotels in Boise. But I thought about it on Wednesday night and since I had the morning open on Thursday I decided to take in the initial portion of her lecture. You'll never guess what her lecture was about."