Damn She's Good

I stumbled home around 9:00 p.m., for the fourth night in a row. I'd have a 5 o'clock shadow if I didn't have a full beard already. With my tie loosened, and my suit jacket over my shoulder, I drug myself from my car to the door. Not defeated, just exhausted. I've been working on a proposal with the rest of my team, which when presented tomorrow at 11:00 a.m., could result in a multi-million dollar deal for the company I work for. We've spent the last week digging through histories, watching market trends, and generally making our eyes bleed over spreadsheets and databases. With the report as done as it was going to get, we sent it off for final proofing, and as I was the one presenting the next day, decided I would read over the final copy the next morning, with a fresh cup of coffee.

I got through the door, hung up my jacket, and put my leather case down. The familiar and comfortable sounds and smells of home started to perk me, and as I heard my wife tinkering in the kitchen, figured I'd wander and see if she had saved me any leftovers.

"Hey, honey." I called. My wife was standing in front of our bar, I assume making a drink. As you leave out of the living room near the front door, you start to enter the kitchen, which you quickly would notice expands in a very open space off to the right. Around the left and far walls are the normal kitchen attributes, with a door in the corner leading to our deck, which connects to a shared backyard with our neighbors, Jim and Dori Miller. As the back kitchen wall expands to the right, the middle section of the wall houses a fairly well stocked bar, and then starts to lead into the sliding red oak doors of my office / den.

Even though it was just past 9, my wife Julia was in her short khaki shorts and a blue polo. I assume she was wearing them earlier, and as the weather was so nice, and the house a bit warm, decided to not change into something more comfortable, which is what she usually does.

"Good Evening, Mr. MacDougal." she replied. She loved calling me that, especially when I got home from work. She felt that I was too serious, even at home - like I was still running a business. Her calling me 'Mr. MacDougal' is her way of reminding me I can actually relax, and leave the business guy at work. Her long auburn hair flipped around her shoulders as she turned around, with drink in hand - which she walked over and handed to me.

"Oh thanks, what did you make?" I asked.

"Scotch on the rocks, figured you could use it - hows the proposal going?"

"I don't know, I just don't know. We've checked everything, we've got what the client wants, but I hear this Mr. Thompson we're meeting with is a bit of a nut. Random things set him off, no rhyme - no reason, and he's a stickler for facts. It's hard to know what he's going to look for." I replied. I took a sip of the drink which was cool to the lips, and warmed going down. She was right, I could use this, and had been looking forward to making myself one anyway. I loved how she could read my mind sometimes.

"Any leftovers from dinner?" I asked.

"Oh nononono. Remember when we watched the Miller's kid for a week 2 months ago? Well I called in a favor. I knew you'd be tired and hungry - so I got Jim to grill you up a steak. I thought you wouldn't be home for another hour or so, so it won't be read for... 40 minutes yet. I hope that's ok?"

"You're the most wonderful woman in the world." I leaned in and kissed her on the lips.

Jim was no slouch with the grill, and I know the man didn't keep anything less than a 16oz. on hand at any given time, so this was quite a nice suprise.

"I already put Jason down for bed, but I'm going to go check on him really quick. I'll be right down. Why don't you go flip on the news in the den?" With that she kissed me again quick on the lips, and spun around and headed for the stairs. I looked over my shoulder as she dashed up the stairs, still in amazement by how fast she bounced back after the pregnancy. Her butt looked as good as it had 5 years ago when I married her. All firm, no flabby jiggle. The same to be said about her legs, slender and smooth. I told her once that she had no torso. She looked slightly offended until I explained that it was because she was made entirely of legs up to her breasts, which was exactly how I envisioned the perfect woman. Painfully long legs and a full C-cup.

I headed for the den, slid the doors open, walked to the center of the room, placed my drink on the side table, and proceeded to loosen things up. The sleeves were already cuffed, but the tie was now draped, strewn across the desk, the top two buttons undone, the shoes kicked off, and the belt coiled in the floor just next to the shoes. I frumped down into my leather chair, put my feet on the ottoman and turned on the t.v. I like to flip between the major news channels. Everyone at work swears by their favorite, and chastises anyone who watches the other guy - the truth is that none of them tell the full story. They all have an angle. Watch them all, you get a rounder picture.

I lounged this way for about 5 minutes before Julia came back in. She hopped up on the chair, sitting on the left arm, and started to rub my back and neck with her right hand. She had taken her shoes off, and slowly started to creep her toes between the arm of the chair, and under my left thigh, seeking to keep them warm. I lazily flipped between the channels, flipping again at each commercial break. We would both snicker when someone said something stupid or contradicted themselves. Otherwise it was pretty peaceful.

At about around 9:40, Julia braced her self on my shoulder, pulled her toes from under my legs, swiveled around and got off the chair, wandering somewhere behind me, and between my desk, which was about 10 feet away. I figured she was just going over to the wall to turn up the heat a bit. It had been a warm enough day - and as I said the house was a bit warmer, but she was in shorts and a short sleave polo, and it was early september. I figured she was getting a little chilly. A few clinks and a creak or two later she reappeared at my left side, holding a tray. The lights were slightly dimmed, and feeling very comfortable, it took me a second to register the fact that she was waiting on me. I looked over and saw that the tray itself was my cigar ash tray, and in the large bowl of the marble tray sat a fresh cigar, my clippers, and my cigar lighter. This took me for an even bigger suprise, as Julia was not very fond of cigar smoke. It wasn't the worst thing to her normally, but when the pregnancy hit, I had to give it up completely because of her nasuea.

"Well, I, that's really sweet of you, but I don't want to chase you away. I like having you sit here with me." I said, slowly shaking my head left to right.

"No it's ok, really, I don't mind it anymore." she said. She lowered the ash tray a little bit closer to me, and with those reassuring eyes, I took the three items, and she sat the ash tray down on the side table, also to my left. I sat my drink down on the table to my right, and after clipping the end, and lighting up, I placed the items on the table, swapping them for my drink . My dominican perfectly complimented the scotch. Julie returned to her place on the arm of my chair, with her hand around my shoulders. As I slowly drew from the cigar, and sipped my scotch I started to remember the steak that was due out in 20 minutes. I stretched my way upward to my wife, and when she turned to look at me, kissed her slowly on the lips. She returned the kiss, with just a little bit of tongue, and as I broke the kiss I whispered, "Thank you."

We sat that way for another couple of minutes, Julia toggling between ranting reporters, and me falling into my zen. And then she turned and got up again.

Julia walked in between the chair and the ottoman, picking up my calves and lowering them to the floor, and pushing the ottoman a couple of feet closer to the t.v. With that she put her hands between my knees, spreading them apart, and knelt in front of my lap, sitting on her knees.

With that she started to take off my socks. First the left, then the right. As she slowly started to reach for my pants button, I shorted my draw on my cigar and asked, "Anything I can help you with?"

"No, no. I'm fine. Thanks though." She proceeded to unbutton my pants, pull down the zipper, and with hands on either side of my hips, pull down both my pants and boxer-briefs. Now she said that she didn't need any help, but I decided to lift my ass up a bit anyway, in the interests of making things easier.

I'm not an idiot, and it didn't take my groin long to figure out was coming next either. Once my pants were down around my ankles, she reached inbetween my leg and the arm of the chair, grabbed the remote, turned off the t.v., placed the remote on the table next to the ashtray, and without the briefest hesitation engulfed my cock between the most beautiful set of DSL's in the tri state area. Guys at work used to think that I hated my job, and ran home as soon as possible, until one day at a dinner meeting when they met my wife. They all understood immediately. These lips looked like they were torn straight from Angelina Jolie, and they were currently sliding up and down my shaft. My head rolled back on the chair, my eyes rolled back in my head, and as she started to go down again, when she hit bottom, she started to slide her tongue out and down to play with my balls at the same time. I thought I was going to blow right there - and she knew it. That was one of the problems, the only problems, Julia knew exactly what a talent she was, and used it whenever she felt the situation warranted some extra "persuasion." After her brief tongueing, she slowed down the pace a bit, and went to work. With my head back in an upright position, and my eyes glued on her, I watched her slowly suck my cock like it was the most amazing thing every conceived by main, and that it was made just for her.

I don't think I could have been happier, a scotch, a cigar, and a beautiful brunette between my legs, and a steak on the way. I enjoyed this for a couple of minutes, before putting down drink and stogie, and working on unbuttoning my white collared dress shirt, and pulling of my undershirt. Once that was done, I leaned back in my chair again, and just stared into her green eyes. She looked up straight at me, with whisps of hair covering her face and continued dragging those lips up and down across my dick.

Suddenly she let my cock out of her mouth with a low 'pop' and worked to stand up. She stood in front of me, and while gently lifting my legs, worked to release my feet from the pants still crumpled at the ankles. Once totally naked, she stood in between my legs, placed both hands on the bottom of her shirt, with arms crossed, and pulled off her shirt in one fell swoop. Those perfect tear drop breasts jiggled freely with their release, as her mid-back length hair swayed back and forth, laying against her lightly tanned skin.

After she knew that I had taken it all in, she undid the button on her khaki shorts, lowered the zipper, until I could just see one or two of those neatly trimmed pubes poke through, and turned completely around. She stood there for a second with her back to me, her hands on her hips, not doing anything. That's when I realized that at some point I would have to play a part. I leaned forward and slowly worked her shorts down to her ankles, where she quickly stepped out of them.

When I came home and first saw her, I'm positive she was wearing a bra, I could see it under she shirt on her shoulders, and I just assumed that she was also wearing panties. Her little excursion upstairs must have been to relieve herself of such nuisances.

Standing before me completely naked, she lifted her left leg, and pushed my leg inward, doing the same then with the right leg, until her legs were then on the outside of mine. It was really, amazingly remarkable how quickly she bounced back. Yes her hips may have been a little wider, but I didn't mind that at all, especially considering how toned everything else was. She slowly leaned forward, bending at the waist, until her arms were braced on the ottoman, and I was left with the sight of nothing but those beautiful long legs, and her sweet, sweet pussy. I dove in, gently at first. I know that my wife loves my beard, for both this, and aesthetic reasons, but if I rush in too quickly, she gets beard burn, and it kills the mood.

I lightly kissed the back of her thighs, moving closer and closer to her pussy. My beard brushing against her legs, my mouth inched closer and closer until I was gently licking her outer lips, her fragrance filling my nose. At this point, once I have that smell in my nose, all notion of 'taking it slow' and 'romance' fly out the window, and all I want to do is fuck her so hard I split her in two. But I kept control. I lick tenderly, gently lapping at her juices, that at this point, are practically free flowing. As I start to bury my face in her, my chin soaked with her juices, she starts to tighten her legs and moan loudly. A minute later she's coming, and screaming into the leather ottoman.

She jerks up right, works around my legs, puts her hand on my chest and pushes me back against the chair. The fragrance of her pussy is quickly replaced with the wofting smoke of the dominican cigar, and I am in heaven. She climbs up on the chair, with her feet between my thighs and the sides their respective chair arms, puts her hands on both sides of my head, cupping my ears. She rests her elbows on my broad hairy chest, and kisses me as she crouches down.

As if she were some amazonian goddess, she no longer speaks. All I hear is a grunt, a pant, a moan as she bites my lip and breathes heavily, slowly working her hips across my groin. She knows exactly what she's doing. She's not hunting for my cock, she's toying with it. The captain's at full mast, rubbing against her left butt cheeck, but she just keeps circling around it.

Her fingers run through my hair, her lips locked on mine, my left arm wandering across her back, my right hand massaging her left tit. She's done toying with me, and in one full swoop, I'm buried to the hilt, I almost didn't feel it happen it was so fast. A passing thought of "she's not as tight as she was before" is immediately replaced by the most amazing muscle contractions on my cock. She went from from 'throwing a hot dog down a hall way' to the tightest pussy I've ever had in my life. She was so tight I thought the friction and the heat was going to slow us up - but not her. She humped my cock like her life depended on it. Our foreheads pressed against each other, breathing into each other, our heat doing the talking for us, we created a new language of grunts and moans.

For a second she shifted her weight, and then was suddenly resting on her knees, my cock still inside her. In this position she seemed much taller than me. I sat up straighter, wrapped my arms around her back, locking them on her shoulders, and buried my face in her breasts. Biting, licking. My beard tickling her titties as her crotch gyrated on my cock. Her clit mashed in my pubes, she brought herself to another orgasm, and another quickly after that.

Sweat dripped down our foreheads, between her cleavage. I leaned back on the chair, slumped now as my ass was on the edge of the seat. She collapsed on me, her hands falling behind me to the chair below. But I wasn't finished yet.

I planted my feet on the ground, raised up so the pressure was on my toes, and proceed to jack hammer into my wife from below. Her moan a long continues one now, the sound of her voice bouncing with every smack of my cock against her ass. Now it was my turn to fuck her like my life depended on it, and I did. My heart beating in my chest, I beat her pussy like it owed me money.

Her moans growing loader, I started growling, her head to the left of mine, her hair draped over my face, and as she had one more earth shattering orgasm, I came in her, having possibly one of the best orgasms of my life, if not the best.

It was so amazing it was as if I blacked out. I remember her crawling off of me, some mild shuffling around, but the next thing I remember was my wife standing in front of me, her shorts back on, her shirt on inside out and her hair looking like she stepped out from a hurricane. And in her hands, a sizzling steak, medium rare. I perked up, straightened myself in my leather chair as she placed the steak and its tray on the ottoman, pushing it forward.

My wife had fucked me into a daze.

Slowly coming out of it, she picked up the scotch, put it in my hand, and kissed me on the cheek.

"Take your time, enjoy your steak, your cigar, your drink. I'll be upstairs... waiting... when you're done." she whispered into my ear.

And I knew she would be. So I sat, in silence, the only noises being the knife on the plate, the ice clinking in my glass. Maybe it was the sex, maybe my neighbor was really talented, either way, it was one of the best damn steaks I ever had.

With the steak completely gone, my drink drained, and my cigar, or what was left of it, smoldering in the ashtray, I wandered up stairs, completely buck naked, determined to give my wife another dozen orgasms. I would have slept in the next morning too, if it weren't for that damned proposal.