And Just Lie That...

He asked if I wanted to stray...

My husband is a great guy. He provides without complaint. He helps around the house. He is respected by his friends. He's nice looking, though really rather average in height, build and weight, but with a substantial package hanging between his legs.

I'm a housewife. I work hard to keep our "castle" in order. We've no kids though we've tried and we've tested. Doc seems to think it will happen as there's no reason not to. But until that day, well, I keep the home and he provides.

We met in high school. I'd moved to his town from another state and didn't really cotton to the idea of trying to fit in. I figured, sooner or later all the strange faces would start to be familiar and eventually I'd find a group I could identify with. At least, that's what I thought would happen.

But one day, as I was walking to my locker, this cute young man did an obvious double take as I passed. I couldn't help it and turned around as his behavior was so obvious.

When I saw him, he had his head bowed and his brow furrowed, like he was trying to place me. I stepped a bit closer to him.

"Excuse me," I said.

"Huh," he responded, obviously coming out of deep thought.

"I said excuse me."

"Oh. Why?"

"I knocked you down."

"Huh?"

"Just kidding. I said excuse me," I explained, "just to interrupt your deep thoughts."

"Oh, yeah." He thought for a second, then; "Why?"

"Because, silly, you did a double take when you passed me. Do you know me?"

"No. Should I?"

"Well then, why the double take."

"You looked familiar."

"Oh boy. Here we go."

"No, no. Not like in a come-on. I think you look like someone I used to know. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

"Embarrass me, why would you think that?"

"I don't know. It happened so fast, I guess I just did the most natural thing without thinking."

"Oh. That's disappointing."

"Huh?"

"You say Huh a lot."

"Huh?"

"See."

"Oh, yeah, huh."

"There, you said it again."

"Oh god. Now this is embarrassing."

"Why?"

"Because, I'm shy."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really. I'm sorry," he started to turn, "if I embarrassed you and I'll be going now."

"NO! Wait."

He turned back. "Huh?"

I cocked my head to the side.

"Oops. There I go again."

He looked at me as a smile began to breakout from my eyes down. Then I couldn't help it. I mocked him.

"Huh?"

"Oh, now you're going to make fun of me. That's just great. Make my day, why don't you."

"What's your name?"

"Edmund."

"Like the famous mountain climber."

"Huh?"

I burst out laughing. When I settled down, I extended my hand.

"I'm Rene. It's nice to meet you Sir Edmund."

"Oh... the mountain climber. Was he a king?"

"No. I think he was knighted or something for climbing Everest."

"Oh, that guy."

"Yeah. Anyway, like I was saying, my name's Rene and if you don't have a date for the dance on Friday Night, I'd like to take you."

"Huh?"

"Sir Edmund. Please be my date for Friday night."

"I've never had a date," he admitted, casting his eyes down and looking at his shoes.

"Well then. That makes us even. I've never had a date either so I guess I was meant to knock you down after all," I said laughing.

"Huh?"

I was the only one of the two of us who got the joke.

We eventually agreed on how we would meet up on that Friday, and as one thing led to another, we've been together ever since.

Don't ask me how we knew, but we knew. I've read all kinds of journal articles (remember, I'm a housewife with lots of time on my hands) with many plausible explanations, but none of them make any more sense than the others. We just knew.

We knew when we danced our first dance.

We knew when we kissed the first time (boy, was that awkward).

We knew when we met each other's parents and we knew the first time we fooled around.

A special bond developed between us; a bond born of friendship, common desire, heritage, and most importantly a bond made more secure each year as we learned about the world together.

We slept together the first time on Spring break, our freshman year of college. We went to the beach down at Panama City and really did nothing but have sex for five straight days. I walked bow-legged for a week.

From that time on, we were ardent students of all things sexual.

We explored fetishes.

We tried golden showers.

We loved oral sex and occasionally I would open my ass for him.

We had a decent porn collection and really enjoyed the Japanese costume play and the bukkake videos. I don't know why, but I didn't find it humiliating for the women. Somehow, the ability to swallow litres of semen or be bathed by dozens of men spraying their ejaculate all over the beautiful faces of the porn actresses and then, their smiling for the camera afterwards, made me realize the infantile drive of the male that needs to be satisfied sexually. I understood and once I understood, I didn't fight it.

During the first year after college, "Sir" Edmund and I decided I should stay home. I didn't much like working in the office I'd landed a job at, and I was not only okay with keeping the "castle" in tip-top shape, I very much liked doing so. I even learned to sew.

I took cooking classes, massage therapy classes, I learned two computer-accounting systems to manage our finances and looked at my role as that of an equal partner. I fulfilled my half of the bargain. I even managed our investment portfolio and it grew steadily.

We had friends and our families all lived close, so invariably, two to three times each month, we'd be at one or another social function with people we knew. But twice a month, we'd go out of town, thinking the change of scenery might unlock my cervix and let at least one Sir Edmund's little spermatozoa find its way home. But even that failed to get me, oops, us, pregnant. Neither of us fretted too much about it and life moved forward.

My husband had one very pronounced quirk. He was constantly trying to help people. Though not a gregarious salesman type, he was always welcome at Church charity functions because, though we both would pitch in, he seemed to thrive when helping people and everyone knew it. He was generous to a fault.

When there was a death in our circle, he would ask me to investigate the likes of the survivors and we'd prepare dish after dish to offer during their grief times.

If someone's car wasn't working, we'd provide transportation.

Once, a friend of ours missed her plane, a puddle jumper that only flew once a day, so we drove her 140 miles to her destination. It wasn't all charity as we stayed at a lake resort nearby for a couple of days before we picked her up and headed home.

Well that's the way our life went from day to day, and truthfully, not only had I never been one to complain, I really had nothing to complain about.

One weekend we'd gone to New Orleans to listen to jazz (we were dedicated live music fans) and eat 'til we couldn't walk. But, of course, we walked all over the city. Maybe that's why we never gained weight.

We walked at the drop of a hat. Most the time, we'd hold hands and be lost in our own little world, but we'd walk just the same, sometimes for three or four hours straight.

We'd found a little café with a jazz trio after our dinner on Saturday night. It was cozy, and gave us a feeling of actually being a part of the show.

As every entertainer will tell you, being on stage is only on half of the show. The other half of the show, the audience, is off stage. That's it. Nothing beats live music in a venue that is a proper size for the performer. Nothing.

After about a half hour of listening to the music, I noticed a change in Edmund's demeanor.

In school, he'd played drums in every band he could get to let him sit in. He was steady, not spectacular. Whenever we took in live music, he would lightly tap on the table with one of his hands. When I first met him, he would bang on everything in time with the music, but as he played less and less frequently, he took to lightly tapping to the rhythm of the piece. But not tonight.

When we got back to our room, I asked him if something were bothering him. He said no. However, when we made love, I felt he was somehow not in the moment. But, I knew my husband well enough to know, if something was bothering him, he'd get round to telling me in a day or two. But nothing ever was said and I forgot about it.

For a few months our routine stayed pretty much the same. We were a half year older and no closer to starting a family. But still, we were young enough that the free time on weekends was precious to us and we used it to go places or, if the occasion arose, to help whoever needed help. It was a very comfortable and fulfilling life.

One weekend, we drove up to Nashville to hear some good old C and W music. That's when his behavior changed again, and changed similar to the way it had changed in New Orleans.

During the band's break, I asked him if we could go outside for a breath of air. He asked me if I was all right and I told him I was okay. I just needed some air.

When we got outside, there were people milling about, smoking and talking loud, the way people talk when they've had a few drinks. We got our hands stamped and walked down away from the smokers.

"Are you okay?" Edmund asked me.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," I replied.

"Huh?"

He never did break the habit.

"You remember New Orleans?"

"Of course."

"Do you remember when I asked you if everything was okay?"

"I think so. Was it 'cause I had too much to drink."

"No you silly goof. That night when we went to the jazz club, you didn't drum on the table."

"I didn't?"

"No. Not that night and not tonight either."

"Really? You pay attention to that kind of thing?"

"Sure do baby. Got to make sure the king of my castle runs on all cylinders."

"You're mixing metaphors."

"Huh?"

"See," said Edmund, jumping at the chance to point out that I "do it too."

"Oh. I guess I do. It must be a contagion."

"Very funny. But listen Rene. I'm okay. I really don't have anything that's bothering me that I can put a finger on."

"Just checkin'."

For a couple of minutes we leaned against the wall of the building we were standing in front of and just, I don't know, chilled.

Edmund broke the silence.

"Do you want to go back in?"

"Not really."

"Do you want to do something else?"

"Um hum. I want to go back to the hotel room and suck out all your pain."

"Cool. But, I have to be honest. I'm really not feeling any pain."

"We'll see."

Back at our hotel room, I made a big production out of pulling one of the Queen Anne chairs up to the picture window that looked out over the city, and undressed Edmund. The night lights from the street below bathed him in neon glow. It was exciting.

I kneeled and put his feet on my thighs as I sat back on my heels. I scooted closer to him and lifted his scrotum to examine it. This was always one of my favorite preliminaries. I examined him as I would a cluster of grapes (his balls are just huge) and pulled and tugged his testicles and his cock in every direction I could think of.

Now let's see. We've been having sex since we were freshman in college and we're both twenty seven now. So, for eight years, I've been sucking him off and I never, ever, get tired of it. Nor, I'm sure, does he.

I've watched dozens of porn videos and know probably twenty or thirty tricks to givong head, maybe more. I like to start slow with a little talk to stoke the fires so to speak. Tonight was going to be no exception.

"Honey, I said."

"Yes dear."

"Do you think it's dirty to put your pee-pee in my mouth?"

"No. I washed earlier."

"Not that kind of dirty silly. I mean, do you think people would think I'm a dirty girl for letting you use my mouth to dump a load in."

"I don't think so."

"I bet you don't," I said licking his scrotum where it connects just at the base in front of his anus. "So, if it's not a dirty thing, then do you think you can dump a big, big load in my little belly?"

"Holy cow, Rene. If you keep talking like that, you're gonna talk me off."

"Oh goody. Now I know what grown-ups mean by oral sex."

"Honey?"

"Yes?"

"Please dispense with the little girl talk and just chow down?"

"Oh, Sir Edmund. You're so masterful."

But that's when I knew he was super excited and I really hadn't done very much yet. As it turned out, I didn't have to do much either. I barely got the head of his cock up against my tonsils when he let loose with a torrent of cum. I mean a torrent.

Now as I said earlier, my husband's got a pretty big package and really, really big balls. This night, I could have sprayed everything he gave me from the top of a hook-and-ladder and put out a five alarm fire. I mean this was the biggest load he'd ever produced.

It took every trick I'd ever learned about swallowing cum, but I got it all.

Afterwards, I lay with my head on his thigh as he stroked my hair. I was so in love. How could I not be?

Edmund leaned down and kissed me. When he did, his cock sprang instantly to attention. I mean instantly. Well, he's a goer, but usually he needs at least ten minutes to recharge. But not that night. In a flash, he picked me up, carried me to the bed and ravaged me with an urgency he rarely exhibited. I, of course, didn't complain. I was feeling so complete, so needed. I felt like that actor in that cheesy movie that proclaims himself "king of the world."

But something new was about to be added to our out of town adventures. Neither of us was aware of it yet, but that night put two pieces of a puzzle together. His lack of drumming and my blow-job got him thinking. It would be another three months before he asked me a question; I never thought I'd hear. We were at a film festival in Atlanta.

We'd gone to an after-showing party for a movie we liked. Though we didn't know anyone, everyone was very nice to us. We met the director, the lead actress and the writer. We're not gaga over celebrities, but, if you view film as collaboration, and we do, then to meet the people involved in the production allows you a chance to thank them for their effort.

Some party attendees said they were going to hear a blues singer and asked if we wanted to go along. Well, as you know by now, my husband and I love live music so we counted ourselves in and off we went.

For about an hour, everything was normal. We had a beer and a shot, but kept it pretty much on the slow and easy. We didn't want to get wasted. We only wanted a comfortable buzz.

The room was crowded for the first set but during the break, most of the patrons left. When the music resumed and the singer came back on stage, there were probably fewer than twenty of us in the club.

About ten minutes into the song set, Edmund stopped drumming. I waited a couple of minutes and then pulled at his sleeve to get his attention. I tapped my fingers on the table like I was drumming and put a quizzical look on my face. Edmund shrugged and turned back around to watch the music. He did not resume drumming.

That night, as we sat on the rooftop garden of our hotel drinking cognac, I asked him if, when I pointed it out to him, he gave any thought to why he'd stopped tapping.

Instead of answering, he asked me if I'd ever thought to be with another man.

I was floored.

"Never. Edmund, what on earth made you ask me that?"

"Well it's just, you know, I guess after being with me for so long, you might be tired of the same old, same old."

"Are you kidding? I can't imagine a more perfect relationship. I,"... then it dawned on me. "Are you tired of me?"

"No baby. Not the least bit. I'm as sure of my love for you as I am that my fingers have nails at their ends."

"Then why on earth would you ask me a question like that?"

"Well, you asked me why I stop drumming sometimes when we're out listening to music. I think I've figured out why."

"Why. And for goodness sakes how does it equate to that silly question you asked me?"

He thought for a minute, refilled our glasses, took a sip and answered.

"Here goes as best as I can figure it out."

I waited.

"That time in New Orleans, did you see that couple that sat in the corner?"

I shook my head no.

"Yes you did. You smiled when she stood up and it was apparent she was pregnant."

"Oh yeah. I think I vaguely remember."

"Then in Nashville, do you remember that group of four people that were really into the music?"

"I think so. No, not really."

Well, it's not important that you remember exactly what they were like. And tonight, did you catch that couple that were smooching without a care in the world?"

"Yeah. They were really into each other. In fact, now that I thank of it, they kind of reminded me of us."

"Exactly. And you know what all three groups had in common?"

"They like music."

"Obviously. No. They were all young."

"So are we."

"We are. But we're not that young."

"I don't really think about our age."

"I didn't either for a long time. But seeing people younger than us having a great time doing the same thing we're doing made me realize something."

"What?"

"That we're getting older and as much as I adore you, I so want to start a family."

"So do I baby."

"I know you do. That's why I asked you if you wanted to be with another man."

"Oh my goodness. You mean you want me to receive sperm from another man?"

"Once again... exactly!"

"Not get into some kinky stuff like have my wife fuck another man while I look on type of stuff?"

"Lord no. I couldn't stand the thought of sharing you. I don't mean I'm being selfish, it's just that, when we're old and gray,"

"And without kids?"

"I hope not, but when we're old and gray, I want to be able to sit on a beach someplace and know I gave you everything you ever needed, including fantastic sex."

"Speaking of which, I think I'm going to blow you now. That way, when we go down to the room later, we'll shower, and then I'll do that thing you like, and it will make you hard as a rock. Then after we dry off, I'll let you lay on the bed and I'll use you for two, maybe three hours while I have a gazillion orgasms."

"What thing?"

"You'll see. Now slip those trousers down around your ankles. Wifey needs to feed." I love silly sex talk.

I also love giving my husband head in places where we might get stumbled upon by another person or persons and that's exactly what happened. Edmund had just started coming, when the rooftop door opened and another couple came out. I didn't stop and Edmund couldn't stop. But as I was finishing trying to swallow quickly, I started giggling and coughed. Cum went everywhere.

It was hanging from my chin.

Some had come out my nose.

I was trying to compose myself while Edmund very deliberately stood up and pulled his pants up, fastening the snaps and buckling his belt.

When he was dressed, he pulled me to him and kissed me deeply.

I heard the girl say; "Cool."

When we got down to our room, we undressed laughing like little kids. Edmund started to head to the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I have to pee."

"Not without me you don't."

"Oh. That thing."

"You got it buster. Let's hit the shower and shower and then shower off."

When we got into the shower, I got to my knees and held Edmund's cock waiting for him to pee. When he finally let loose, I sprayed it all over my face and boobs. Then he got on his knees and I peed right on his rapidly inflating erection. I took hold of him and he was hard as granite. Then we took a real shower.

That night I fucked Edmund.

I rode him with a fury I'd not realized was in me. I pounded my body up and down on his staff while he fondled my breasts or stuck his hand in my mouth. When he stuck his finger in my ass, I came hard. It was the first of many orgasms I'd have before the sun came up.