By Jay Cameron and (Ms. X)
If I had to tell you how it all started, I don't think I could. Maybe it started in that two-bedroom one bath house in the almost good neighborhood where I grew up. My upbringing came in a house where never was heard a civil word or even the word "thanks." All I remember was it was five, maybe six or seven years ago when I met my present husband. I'm wife number two.
My husband and I, Dr. Phillip Tungsten, age 42, and Sasha Tungsten, age 31 came to an understanding more than a marriage. My husband Phillip is a very intelligent man. He is a doctor that doesn't write prescriptions. He's one of those guys that looks at numbers and tells everyone when and if the sky is going to fall. He does this all day long. I have lived these past years knowing and believing my husband was an integral part in the life of someone who needed to know if it was falling or not.
About me? Well, let's face it, I am not a pleasant person. Normal people think of me as an overbearing, loudmouth, pretentious bitch. Because of Phillip's position and his public and private responsibilities, I guess you could also add hot, brunette arm-candy. Let's face it, I certainly have; I'm a trophy wife and as far as this town is concerned, I wear the blue ribbon.
I'm getting off subject. My husband and I had been married slightly less than nine years. He had two children from a previous marriage that spent every minute of every day being a pain in my ass. The oldest, our daughter, was getting laid more than I was, as hard as we tried to keep her legs glued together. Our son, Phil Jr. was out to break the state record of gluing pages of Playboy together with his cum. I can't remember how many times that kid went to the bathroom during the day, but the smell wrenching out from under that door would make you either sick or jealous; really disgusting.
The ex-wife got the house and all the stuff that goes with it, and Phillip got stuck with the kids. With the expense of a hot sexy new wife and college loans, the only place we could afford was a two-story drafty, one toilet home. In time, we moved to a bigger house with ensuite bathrooms in all four bedrooms, plus a couple extra. All the changes made a major difference in everything; except those two monster kids.
Phillip Sr. was moving up in the financial part of the company. He was taking on more and more responsibility. With the responsibility came fewer hours at home with the family. Fuck the idea of hours, his time at the house with me and the kids could be measured in minutes.
Sex with my husband had become so routine, I stopped looking forward to those rare occasions of lust-less blah, blah, blah. Oh, we kissed, but I kissed my grandfather with more passion. I couldn't remember the last time he even touched my lips with his tongue. The length of our oral sex could be measured on a broken egg timer. Intercourse got so bad I think even he was faking his orgasms. We just wanted to be done with all the fake fucking and go to sleep.
Don't get me wrong, it's not that I was mistreated as a housewife. I wasn't. I had my duties and my own responsibilities. I had to prepare the children for their new lives away from good old stepmom and dad. That took about fifteen minutes out of each day. I mean let's face it. I could run my mouth for hours, but they didn't hear a word I said. I wasn't even sure I wanted them to hear my nonsensical advice.
One night, after a party of friends and fellow workers, my husband seemed a little more receptive to some of that sex we used to have. It was almost like we were kids in the back seat of his old Chevy, that's if he could afford an old Chevy. We didn't just hold each other that night .... we clung to each other like we were kids. The smell and feel of indifference had been replaced with lust. Lust that had been just a long-ago memory. Nothing from that day or that night, or even that year would lead you to think something new or long overdue was about to happen.
What happened that night when we were alone, and in many ways screaming for the freedom from responsibility that had haunted us from the day we said "I do" to an Elvis want-a-be in Vegas. I felt a closeness to my husband that I hadn't felt in ages. We connected in so many ways.
For the first time in forever we had anal sex. Something I had enjoyed in the past and had completely given up on ever experiencing again. We had sex in the shower that night. I felt his cock grow hard again in my mouth, one of my favorite events of days in the past. But the most important thing that happened wasn't on that Saturday night, but what happened during the afternoon the following day.
When I joined my husband on the covered patio with my cup of coffee, I could see the smile on his face grow when he heard the sliding door open. "I was wondering when you were going to drag your ass out of bed today?"
"If your butt was as sore as mine, you would be taking your time too." I responded following a sip of the hot liquid from the cup in my hand. "I will admit, I wasn't expecting what happened to happen, but I won't complain if you want to do it again."
His grin turned into a full smile. "Maybe we should talk about that." There was a pause that seemed a little strange at this point in time. But I was in no condition to argue about when we would discuss our next coupling. "When do you have in mind?"
He stood and took a step or two toward the patio door. "How 'bout the next time you come into the house."
Now it was my turn to smile. It was a smile that went all the way to the center of the soul. I hadn't felt this warm inside in a long time. I took one final sip of my coffee and followed my husband inside to what he promised.
When the day was done, so were we. My husband and I had visited lust and other places in the sexual universe we had only seen or visited in our dreams and fantasies. After a long and exhausting session, the shower just seemed to renew our energy. With his cock growing in my mouth, and his tongue and lips treating my body to one convulsion after another, I could finally go no further. Through the pain of pleasure, and the need of the soul, we rested.
Weeks passed. The pleasure was still there, but the excitement was beginning to fade again. Why would the routine of something so exciting and so essential to our lives turn from bliss to boring? But it did and the speed at which it was changing was heartbreaking. I had nothing of true importance in my life other than to care for and excite my husband. He was the knight in shining amour that came to the rescue of the damsel locked in a routine that would destroy their idyllic world.
It finally happened on a Wednesday. Nothing special about this Wednesday, but in the life of me and my, husband it was a major turning point.
He arrived home from his day, a little later than usual. When he came into the house, he passed me as though I wasn't even there. Oh, he offered a kiss as he passed, but it was far from the kiss I usually get at the end of his day. In fact, I noticed something new had been added. That something new was what turned our world into something crazy...crazy good, I think, and crazy exciting. (Wait for it....)
