As June, my wife of seven years, and I drove home from the movies on a Saturday night I hit her with the same old refrain: "I guess the Mission Impossible movies are entertaining, otherwise I wouldn't keep going to them; but they are so coincidental and far-fetched I wonder how it can hold my interest."
June said the same thing she always does, while tapping something on her iPhone as had recently seemingly become her favorite pastime; "Hey Brett, they say that real life is stranger than fiction; and more far-fetched too. I know that you won't believe that Oxford University is older than the Aztec Empire, France was still executing people using the guillotine when the first Star Wars movie came out, and Anne Frank, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Barbara Walters were born in the same year; but they're all true!"
I never knew where June got her unlikely "facts" but every one she ever laid on me after my "unbelievable" refrain turned out to be true. I was really going to have to check the Oxford University one, though.
The night ended as many recently had (after I confirmed that Oxford was in fact older than the Aztec Empire); "June, won't you go off birth control so that we can start a family; I'm ready for kids," I pleaded.
"We're only twenty nine and I need to work a few more years first, Brett."
"But we have more than enough money just from my salary and bonus. Plus, even if you want to work some more, why did you have to take that job in Philly; I don't get to spend enough time with you."
"Don't I fuck you good on the weekends, whiner?"
"Yeah, you sure do - but you know that I have a preggo fetish and I want to fuck you every day, and when you're pregnant."
"How about tonight I just put a pillow under my nightgown and you pretend that I'm pregnant while you fuck me?" she replied with a devilish smile.
"No, I really mean it, you should go off...oh, shit...birth...OH FUCK!"
She didn't let me plead some more about going off birth control because she had just grabbed my balls and started sucking my cock, and it felt sooo good. I did have to admit that although her working two hours away from our Maryland home in the suburbs of Washington, D. C. did deny me a lot, and her recent constant checking and texting on her iPhone pissed me off, she really, really did fuck me good on the weekends.
After I came in her twice that night as she squirmed like a snake and screamed like a banshee, I almost forgot about my discontent.
As I lay in bed I did think about the change in our sex life, however. Before June started working in Philly during the week, I always approached her gently and lovingly, and we made love more than fucked. She seemed content with that, although when she had been drinking she would ride me like I was a rented mule. I often wondered if she really liked it more hard and fast, and for modesty reasons never brought it up.
Since she had started working in Philly, I had been more fucking her than making love to her, though, and from her body language it seemed she liked that more. I fucked her again in my mind before I fell asleep; since it was only a dream I fucked her up against a wall and I had a sixteen inch cock that somehow she was able to not only take, but fully enjoy.
***********
Sunday morning I was getting ready for a Washington Nationals home game. The buddy who I was supposed to go to the game with, Jack, called to cancel only ninety minutes before the start. June heard my phone conversation.
"Since Jack canceled, why don't you take me?" June asked. "You always complain that we don't do enough together."
"Would you really go?" I skeptically inquired, since she had never gone before in the three years that I shared season tickets.
"Sure, as long as you take me out to eat afterward," was her flippant reply.
That kind of surprised me since she hated baseball; but off to the game we went.
I share season tickets with other guys in my company, and most of the people around us are season ticket holders too. I'm friendly with most of them, especially the forty-something lesbian couple, Janice and Denise, that has the seats right behind mine. They had never met June, of course, but I spoke of her often. They arrived a little late, and the game was a thriller, and June seemed to constantly be busy checking or tapping away on her iPhone, so I only got to make a perfunctory introduction of June to Janice and Denise.
I did turn around and comment to Janice and Denise about plays on the field on a number of occasions during the game, but they seemed to be much more subdued than normal, and didn't respond as enthusiastically as normal. When June went to the washroom during the seventh inning stretch I found out why.
As I stretched I turned to chat with Janice and Denise and saw forlorn expressions on their faces. "Brett, we really are torn about doing this, but we like you and feel that we'd be wrong not to tell you," Janice stammered out. "Denise wrote it down; you can look at it now or after the game, but not in June's presence."
With that Denise handed me a score sheet with writing in the margin. Being the type of person who requires instant gratification I read what it said right away.
"In the third inning June got a provocative text that included a guy's junk, and her response was equally provocative. She's been texting him almost constantly since then. 'Nancy' in her call list is really 'Rob,' the guy she's been texting with."
I read it twice. I'm sure that the color drained from my face. I looked both of them in the eye. "This isn't a joke, is it?" I murmured.
They both dejectedly shook their heads "no."
"Should we have kept that to ourselves?" Denise asked.
"Hell no! I needed to know," I instantly replied. Then I motioned to the beer vendor and bought beers for the three of us.
Fortunately when June returned it was already the eighth inning and the Nationals had put the game away in the seventh, so after I downed my beer I suggested that we go. I waved to Janice and Denise while unsuccessfully trying to evoke a smile, and they waved back while Janice mouthed what I'm sure was "Be strong!"
