Standing behind your man can involve lying on your back
**
David and I married in a festival of excitement. I had the wedding of my dreams, which cost my parents a pretty penny, and I now had the husband of my dreams, David Cox. He was handsome, debonair, smart, and talented. I'm smart, too, but I do a good job of hiding it. Best of all, from David's standpoint I'd imagine, I love sex and I'm a bit on the submissive side. Well, maybe more than just a bit.
It was a month after the wedding that my grandmother took me out "for a coffee." After the usual banalities, she got to the point:
"Has your mother told you yet how to make David a success in business?" she asked.
"No; what do you mean? David will be a success in any event. He's smart, talented, and hard working. All he needs is a good woman behind him, and he has that," I said, smiling broadly, and fluffing my hair.
"That's great. Maybe you don't need the family female advice, then," Grandma said, smiling that smile of hers that always makes you curious about what she's not saying. Everything Grandma has ever told me "in confidence," has been wisdom of the ages. She had even told me how to secure a date for the junior prom, when I was scared I'd get overlooked and not invited! Her advice worked, of course; it always does. I'll treasure the prom pictures forever.
In retrospect, Grandma's method to get a date was fairly obvious. All I had to do was to choose a boy, and lick my upper lip a lot when speaking with him, and then ask him about the rumors about what goes on after the prom?
"What do you mean?" Bob had asked me.
"Well, do you think it's true the man gets up to mischief with his date?" I asked, sucking my fingers suggestively.
That was all it took. Bob took me to the prom. And yes, after the prom we had some fun. You've got to reward a guy for stepping up that way, right? Bob was thrilled, and I was thrilled. Bob talked, and I became one of the popular girls, almost overnight. I owed it all to Grandma, and to my talented mouth.
"Good advice is always welcome," I said.
Grandma smiled. She got herself a second cappuccino, and settled in. We were in the nicest Starbucks in the city. Grandma always chose the nicest, no matter how trashy the venue. She returned with two cappuccinos, one for me. I was all ears. Two hours later my entire world was turned upside down! I had really had no idea how the world of business works. Of course, Grandma was a bit out of date with the times, and she was the first to admit it, but her advice gave me lots of food for thought. It was advice for the ages: basically, it was timeless advice.
**
At first, I ignored my Grandmother's advice, which anyway, was way out of bounds. I let David fend for himself. David was a charmer, and a salesman extraordinaire. After all, he had charmed me into his bed on only our second date, and that is not an easy thing to do!
I'm a normal girl, and have all the features men like in a woman, such as legs, breasts, a minuscule waist, and a tight, round ass. I have silken hair which falls to my shoulders, and - I'm told - a sexy smile. And, of course, I have a talented mouth.
However, there are lots of girls like me. We're a dime a dozen. So why did a great catch like David choose me? I'd like to think it was because I have such a delightful, relentlessly cheerful, personality. However, I suspect it might have been the extraordinary sexual compatibility. David has kinky fantasies, and well, quite frankly, so too do I. Until I'd hooked up with David, I had never acted on my kinky fantasies. That changed quickly! It's only by extraordinary good fortune that our kinks align, quite smartly.
Getting back to the point, I felt as if David needed no help from me. He was born to be a success. You know the type: Everything he had ever tried he had excelled at. Maybe he just chose what to try with care, but it doesn't change things. He has talent coming out of his ears.
I figured the best thing to do was to stand back and to watch him prosper. Sure, I cooked and cleaned and provided a warm and welcoming marital bed. I also provided a welcoming marital couch, kitchen counter, dining table, and - best of all - back yard. Business, however, was David's domain.
Since we were living in Falls Church, one of the Virginia suburbs of DC, I got a low-level job at 'the company' (ie, the CIA) to supplement the family income. It kept me busy, and out of trouble. To get the job, even the low level one, I had to get a security clearance. I was kind of a wild girl in college, and there were a few compromising pictures of me that were still up on the Internet, but happily David knew about them and he liked them(!), as he explained to the FBI when they interviewed him for my security clearance. Mostly due to David's attitude, I think, I got the (medium-level) security clearance at The Agency that I needed for my job. I was forbidden to tell anyone where I worked, and so too was David.
At first, David loved his job. He would come home cheerful every day, and we would discuss his work and the success he had had at it. He liked his boss, and his colleagues at work, too. When he wrote up his reports, I was his editor, and by the time we were both done with them, they were mistake-free, not even having a typo.
As time went on, my editorial work expanded a bit: I made constructive suggestions. David resisted them at first ("What did I know, anyway?"), but gradually he began to see how much his work could be improved with a little tweaking, and to his credit, he embraced my help. We became a dynamite team.
David's job wasn't all about writing proposals and reports, of course. He also had to sell them to clients, and that is where he shone. He was also expected to socialize with his colleagues, and that was another area for me to help him advance in the company. There were dinner parties galore, and I became friends with quite a few of the women, be they David's colleagues or the wives or girlfriends of his colleagues. Their partners, as we call them in modern parlance.
We actually had four circles of friends. There was our church, our neighbors, colleagues from my job, and colleagues from David's job. We did not yet have children, so we didn't make friends with the parents of our children's playmates, as other couples did. Still, we had plenty of friends. The important ones, at least for David's career success, were his friends from work.
My best friend, within David's grouping of friends, was Connie. She was the wife of his good friend, Jack. David and I spent a lot of time with Jack and Connie. Connie was a looker: she had long brown hair with a flip, small breasts high on her chest, thin thighs, and an hourglass figure that emphasized a miniscule waist. Best of all, she had a pretty face.
I'm pretty myself, but when I'm next to Connie I feel thick and unattractive. I do have good sized boobs, and some men prefer women with boobs like mine, David being one of them. Also, I have a dazzling smile, so I took comfort in those two traits.
Indeed, when we were going out with Jack and Connie, I took care to emphasize my boobs, in any way I could. Buying a bra became both an art and a science for me. This had the effect of making me look a bit too sexy for a demure wife, especially among men who belong to the rather large cult of boob-worshippers. Nevertheless, using all my little tricks, I managed to hold my own, even in the presence of a natural beauty like Connie.
Among our four groups of friends, each had a different dynamic. With the neighbors we discussed kids, schools, and issues of the neighborhood, which could also be described as gossip. Since David and I did not yet have children, we were a bit left out when the discussion revolved around their kids. I got a bit tired of praising the artwork of 3 and 4-year-olds, after all, that our friends would thrust in our faces.
I enjoyed more our times with our friends from church. They were an intellectual/philosophically bent group of people, and the discussions were invariably stimulating, and they gave David and me food for thought. Our friends from my workplace were also interesting, and we often - quite naturally enough - discussed world politics. For example, since they were CIA, they were well informed about the Russians and the Chinese and their hacking talents. One time I noticed David's ears perked up when they talked about Russia sending over women to seduce politicians. After all, this was happening in D.C., which was our backyard, so to speak.
The most fun, however, was with David's colleagues. They were, to a man, and to a woman, party animals. Often dinner parties would turn into dancing parties. Best of all, once a month, one couple would host a party for everyone. People would drink, flirt, dance, and just have a rip-roaring good time! One thing that bothered me is that if a man danced with a woman (usually not own wife) a fair amount of groping would be involved.
I am, and always have been, a compulsive conformist. Whatever the other women would do, I would do, too. So...when the men would grope their dance partners (including David, I might add, since he would dance with the other wives and single women, while every man there, it seemed, asked me to dance), I just let the man I was dancing with grope me. It wasn't too, too bad.
In slow dances, the men would pull us women up flush against them, and we would put our hands around their necks, sometimes running our hands through their hair. They all seemed to love to grope our asses as we danced with them. At first, I was scandalized, but looking around, I saw every man was happily groping his dance partner's ass, so I just went with the flow. I did the same when men would grope my boobs, since it was - of course - always over my clothes and my bra.
All the parties were good, including our own, but Jack and Connie threw the best ones. Their parties also tended, for some reason I never quite understood, to be the raunchiest. The most extreme was when Mike's wife Sarah disappeared for around an hour with Mitch. Neither of them ever said just what exactly they had gotten up to, but given how angry Mike was later, one can only imagine. The imagination is dangerous; imagined behavior is usually much worse than the actual behavior. Still, it became a minor scandal! Mike and Sarah almost got divorced. Also, they stopped coming to the parties, which was a shame. I had always enjoyed dancing with Mike. Mitch, however, was just as much fun.
At the February party, which was at the home of Mitch and his wife Christine, there was a new couple. I asked David about them, and he said the man was Frank Sims, his boss! He didn't know the woman, but he assumed she was his wife, Anabel. David loved his boss, and since he was up for a promotion, he was being especially solicitous of Mr. Sims. He asked me to be the same way. I said, "Of course, David." I was one of the good women who were always behind every successful man.
Once the dancing began, it didn't take Frank Sims long to ask me to dance. I noticed David had in turn asked Mr. Sims' hot-to-trot wife Anabel to dance as well. Mr. Sims pulled me flush against him right away. I looked around, and all the other women were flush against their dance partners, too. Moreover, Anabel was flush up against my David.
Right away I noticed Mr. Sims was hard, as he pressed his cock against my tummy. I glanced at my hubby, and from the smile on Anabel's face, I figured he was hard, too. I was surprised she was smiling about it, but maybe she was like me, and went along with the flow. Mr. Sims' hands went for my ass, and soon he was feeling up my ass something fierce, to a greater extent than the other men usually do. I looked at David, and he smiled back at me, apparently glad that I was 'being nice' to his boss. I was getting an uneasy feeling about this.
After the party, David and I discussed it together.
"That was some party!" David began. "The wives seemed to be giving all of us men carte blanche! I wouldn't be surprised if another Mike and Sarah scandal were to emerge soon." David was all aglow. I guess he got to feel up all the wives he lusts for, and extensively, at that. "How was your time with my boss? What was he whispering to you as he mauled your ass?"
"We may have a problem with him," I cautiously replied.
"How so?"
