Jenn & Tom

It all began about a year ago or two. Jenn and Tom just celebrated their third anniversary and decided they were ready to start a family. But after two years of failure, Jenn's OB-GYN referred them to a fertility specialist. The doctor promptly ordered an exam for both. It turned out that scar tissue from an ovarian cyst, in conjunction with the low motility of Tom's sperm, made it unlikely that they'd ever have children naturally.

During the time they were dating seriously, they daydreamed often about the kinds of kids they would have...even picked out a list of 5 boy and girl names they could both agree on. Jenn dreamt of being the mom in the neighborhood who was known for having the best chocolate chip cookies; Tom, of being a t-ball coach. But to learn all that was for nothing...

They rode home from the doctor's office in silence. Without saying a word, Tom went straight to the kitchen and after getting two wine glasses, opened a bottle of pinot noir. Silently, he filled the two glasses and walked over to Jenn, who was in the living room, hidden in the far right corner of their loveseat, almost fetal, her dark tresses completely obscuring her face.

Setting the wine down on coasters, Tom climbed over to his silent wife and without a word, began massaging her shoulders until soon, the tears began to fall. Jenn turned to him and for a long time, they just held each other in the corner of the loveseat as the sobs came faster and faster, stifling them both until there was nothing left in them but the anguish. Finally, the sadness reached a decrescendo and they returned to quietly mourning the future that was lost to them now, desperate to comfort one another but too scared to speak and unable to breathe.

Tom leaned over and caressed her cheek slowly, tenderly, for agonizingly long minutes until Jenn finally cracked a half-hearted smile.

"Hey, we have each other, you know," he smiled, but not entirely convincingly.

Desperate not to stay miserable for the entire night, Jenn seized the conversational lifeline and held on to it with all her might. She smiled equally unconvincingly at her husband. "That we do," she said and put her hand on his as he continued to caress her face.

She could see that Tom was working up to saying something, and uncertain whether she should say something to prompt him or stay silent and let him get there, simply looked at him quizzically. It was her way: nurturing, not confrontational.

"Baby," he began, "this is my fault. I'm so sorry for bringing this on you."

Shocked, Jenn looked at her husband. "What in the world are you talking about? It was me, the cyst—"

"—but you didn't know you had the scar tissue. That wasn't your fault. Who would have known that it was there? No, this is my fault."

Confused and now slightly frustrated at not getting an answer, she said, "How is that possible?"

"Well, you know how we're supposed to visualize all the wonderful things we wanted for the kids while we were trying?"

"Yeah?"

Tom flushed and looked at his feet. "Well, I—when we were—I...I was sometimes thinking about something else," he almost whispered.

Jenn couldn't help feeling a bit betrayed and hurt, and Tom became the target of her frustration at their joint infertility. "You what?" she demanded in an uncharacteristically icy tone.

Without looking up, Tom passed her the wineglass, which she accepted impatiently. Taking a long drink out of his, he said softly, "I fantasize about you being with someone else. Some

ones

else."

It was Jenn's turn to take an extended pull from her glass. She started slowly. "So all the times we were making love, keeping that stupid damned schedule, taking temperature, all that crap, as we tried to realize our dream of starting a family, you were envisioning me as some kind of cheap slut?" Something in Jenn snapped in that moment. Her voice rose as she continued, "Every time we were trying to bring children into this world, you were thinking of me as a whore, you asshole?! You pathetic—just what the hell is wrong with you?!"

Jenn knew she was screaming now but didn't care. "I'm your fucking wife, Tom, not some drunk, frat house groupie, or one of those porn actresses trying to break the world record for taking the most cocks––your fucking wife!"

Tom gaped at his wife as she continued on her tirade. "How dare you think of me like that? Here I am, trying to make you a father, and you're thinking about how you wish I were some cum-guzzling whore who spreads her legs for any random dick? Is that what you want?"

As she stared at him in her rage, she noticed that his cock, never particularly large but always big enough for her needs, was straining the front of his jeans, and bigger than she ever saw it.

Tom's eyes are glazed over for a moment then noticed where her eyes were. He adjusted, to hide the commotion in his jeans, but it was too late.

Repelled, Jenn asked coldly, "So is that what we've come to? Now I'm just another pussy to you?"

"No, no, no! Jenn, it isn't like that!"

"Then just what the fuck is it like?"

"It's that...baby, I love you, and only you. You know that, right?"

Jenn rolled her eyes and snapped, "Yes, I know that. So?"

Tom opened his mouth several times, but no words came out. Frustrated, Jenn demanded, "For fuck's sake, what the hell is this about?"

Finally, Tom said quietly but firmly, "I want you to feel like the beautiful, pretty, sexy and gorgeous woman that you are." He became louder as he continued, "I want the lights on when we make love. I want to see you as you are. And damn it, I want you to see in you what I see every time I look at you."

"What the hell does that have to do with fantasizing about me with other men?"

"Do you remember how you told me once that you never felt more loved than after we have sex?"

Jenn saw where this was going. "So more sex equals 'Jenn has a healthier self-esteem'? And from there, I suppose it's reasonable to extrapolate that 'Jenn in the middle of a gangbang' equals healthiest self-esteem? Is that it?"

"Well, OK, yeah, if you put it that way, it sounds stupid, but..."

"Save it, Tom," Jenn snapped as she finished the rest of her glass in a swallow and retrieved the bottle from the kitchen. After filling her glass, she set it on the coffee table. She sat forward, glass still in hand, swirling the wine and admiring its rich color, trying to make heads or tails of his bizarre revelation.

Tom followed suit, remaining silent, uncertain what, if anything, to say.

After a painfully pregnant silence, Jenn looked at her husband again; the front of his jeans was still impressively swollen. "Well, I can see that you really like the idea, darling." An idea began to take shape in her mind.

Tom gave an awkward smile. "Yeah, um...sorry about that, but—"

And for the first time in the past six hours, Jenn laughed—he just looked so innocent and child-like. The countless moments of anxiety, the years of hurt and frustration, all of it came spilling out, a storm-swollen river finally bursting through the dam. Tom soon joined in, caught up in the swell of relief, and his frustration and guilt also washed away. He lay against Jenn as they both continued laughing for a few minutes, the decrescendo of the laughing fit now upon them.

Tom leaned over to his wife. "I'm sorry I ever mentioned it, all right? It's really unfair to you, I know that. I was being selfish, I shouldn't have said anything, it was just my guilt—"

Jenn shushed him with two fingers over his lips and rolled on top of him. "I guess I should be glad that you're being honest about it. But you know, that really doesn't have anything to do with our infertility. Our, meaning, you know, the both of us?"

He grimaced. "Maybe. Maybe it's just that I feel...well, I guess I feel impotent. I mean, really: slow swimmers? That kinda hits a guy where he lives, you know?"

He had that look, the one that meant that he was dwelling on it. Resolved not to let anything take them back to that depressing place they spent most of the morning and all afternoon, Jenn shushed him again, this time with a kiss.

For the first time in their history together, Tom didn't kiss her back. Usually when they kissed, it wasn't just lips touching, it wasn't just husband and wife expressing their love: it was nothing less than two souls intertwining. The first time they really kissed, it was so soulful that for the rest of the day, Jenn couldn't help but trace her lips with her fingers, remember the electricity of it.

Initially taken aback by Tom's refusal to meet her halfway, Jenn took it as a challenge and grabbed him with both hands. That got the desired response, and he kissed her with a kind of intensity that was missing the past few months, when their libidos were trumped by planners and thermometers. Pleasantly surprised at his reaction, she helped him reverse their positions off the loveseat and down to the carpet.

She could feel his desirable length against her thigh, and driven initially by the wish to keep his mind off his misplaced guilt, slowly unzipped his jeans. She grinned at his sudden gasp, and after flashing him a devious smile, switched positions with him again and pulled his pants down his still-slim hips. His erection poked through the flap of his boxers, his pre-cum making his head glisten under the living room's track lighting. Slowly re-positioning herself, she eagerly engulfed him in her mouth, savoring the beautiful sweet/salty taste of his excitement and the velvety smoothness of that sensitive skin.

Rewarded with another, louder gasp, Jenn couldn't help giggling, letting her husband enjoy the vibrations that created in her throat. Not that Tom was long enough to require deep throat: at just under six inches on most occasions, that wasn't necessary, but the sensation did travel and it was one he loved.

Steadying herself with her right hand, she began untucking his shirt with her left and playing with his already-stiff nipples, gently tweaking and tugging at them. His moans became louder as his breathing became faster. She knew that he wouldn't last that much longer now.

She pulled away and lightly slapped at the shaft of his cock. His eyes shot wide open as he yelped in surprise.

"You've been a very, very bad boy, Tom." She slapped it again, a little harder this time.

"I'm sorry," he gasped. She could see that he was hesitating, not knowing the steps to this new dance. Jenn didn't know exactly where all this was coming from herself, but she was enjoying the hell out of it. Maybe it was a way to take back some control over her life? Jenn didn't know just then and didn't want to stay out of the moment. She practically glared at her husband, and said coolly, "'Sorry' doesn't cut it. Put those hands of yours to work and take off my jeans."

In seconds, they were off, her panties rolled up with them.

Lying down beside the coffee table now, she began stroking herself. "You want this, don't you," she taunted.

Unable to speak, he gulped and nodded furiously.

"Well, you're gonna have to earn the right to put that dick in me with your tongue."

Tom jumped off the loveseat and buried his face between her legs. As he began lavishing attention on her lower lips, Jenn's eyes fluttered as he drew forth her moans. It was a night of firsts already: she was never the aggressor, never talked like this to him. Their lovemaking was always tender and caring, a delicate reflection of their gentleness with each other. They rarely even talked during sex, allowing silent looks to handle what little communication there was, although through the course of their relationship, it became somewhat scripted, especially in the past two years. Not to say that it wasn't good: it was always good, but a bit predictable.

Jenn's departure from the script however must have sparked some creative thoughts in Tom, it seemed, because it was quite a surprise when Tom started doing something new himself. He began by licking in long, deep strokes from her clitoral hood all the way down. If she hadn't been wet already, this would have seen to it. With each wonderfully lazy lick, his tongue lingered longer at her anus until he began slowly working it inside. As he did, his fingers began caressing her clitoris.

"Mm...I don't know where you got that idea, but it's a keeper," Jenn cried while she furiously worked her t-shirt and sports bra up over her breasts and began giving him a show, playing with her nipples.

It was Tom's turn to chuckle now. Pausing to take a breath, he switched his tongue to her clit. Steadying himself with one hand for a moment, he slowly worked a finger where his tongue had been. Rewarded by a long moan and now in the right position, with his other hand he thrust three fingers deep within her, which he would never have been able to do if not for having already eaten her. He began stabbing at the center of her passion with his tongue now.

Jenn could feel herself drawing nearer to that familiar rainbow of color, but what her husband was now doing shot her past that colorful fountain and directly towards a storm cloud that rumbled menacingly as she drew ever nearer. Finally, in a flash followed by a deafening roar, Jenn lost consciousness.

She awoke to Tom gently running his tongue along her labia. He looked up and smiled knowingly. "So, did I earn the right to get inside you?"

She reached down and pulled him up. He pushed himself all the way in easily, another first, and Jenn moaned, savoring the feel of her husband deep within. Tom adjusted his angle downward so that the base of him rubbed against her sensitive button, a trick that had been new to Jenn the first time he did it years ago. She knew from experience he couldn't finish in this position, and instinctively understood this change as part of their nonverbal communication: "

I love you too much for you not to come first,

" he was saying.

Jenn laid back and enjoyed her husband's luscious strokes. She wondered idly what it might look like to someone else watching from the kitchen, which reminded her of her husband's strange confession earlier.

"So, tell me about these someones," she said playfully.

Tom froze, mid-thrust. "What?"

Jenn pushed with her hips, forcing Tom's length fully into her again. "You heard me: tell me about this obsession of yours."

"You sure?" If she hadn't already been so hot, the look of surprise and disbelief on Tom's face would have made her laugh.

Jenn contracted her muscles tightly by way of answer. Her hurt and anger less fresh now, Jenn recalled that she used to have a fantasy like that, before Tom. She was very curious to see how her husband fetishized it.

Once his eyes returned to their normal size, they took on a faraway look. "Well, we're at the Hot Spot. You're wearing that red dress that you think is too short. There's these three or four guys standing at the bar, maybe they're all friends, ogling you. We've been dancing and having a few drinks. I'm a little tired, so I sit, but you aren't ready to stop yet. One of the guys comes over, he's pretty good looking, and asks you to dance. I nod when you look at me and I turn to watch. It's a fast tune now and he's a damned good dancer."

His breathing got faster now, his thrusts deeper. "What I can't see because of the crowd is that with each song, his hands roam further over you until after half an hour, every chance he gets he's rubbing his cock against you. You're going with it because his dancing is hot and you're enjoying it. After a while, he asks if you'd like to go to a party he and his friends are having at a nearby hotel."

Jenn started groaning now: dancing always got her hot & bothered.

"You remember where and who you are, and leave the dance floor in a hurry, but not before he presses a hotel room key card and slip of paper into your hand. When you get back to the bar where I'm sitting, it's obvious you're turned on, and I ask what you're holding. He's written his name, Greg, the name of the hotel and a room number on the paper. You tell me what he said and I suggest we go in a while. You're surprised, but don't argue, either." Her head was thrown back now as with one hand she reached down to pinch at his nipples, making him grunt in appreciation. The scent of her own arousal began to fill the room.

"When we get there about half an hour later with a bottle of Grey Goose™, the guys from the bar are already there and have a small bar set up. It's a suite: in one room, the TV is playing some porn that they're sort of watching and in another, the rest are arguing about what music to put on the stereo in the other room. One of them is Greg. When we walk in, he turns and smiles to see you and wins the argument by putting on some dance music. I can see it in his eyes as he imagines just what he wants to do to you." His breathing was becoming shallower; his eyes, narrowed in concentration.

"We make some small-talk, fix ourselves some more drinks. Greg asks you to dance, and this time, you don't even look at me: you just get up and start dancing. I'm not sure how it starts, maybe I'm distracted making small-talk with the other guys, when I turn and see you two making out. His hands are all over you. As you turn, I can see your face just in time to see as you give me a sexy smile and unzip your dress."

As she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, Jenn knew she wouldn't last much longer, but it was a fair bet what deserved more of the credit—her husband and his now-frantic fucking or the story he was telling. She could feel a wet spot forming beneath her and she smiled to herself, knowing that here at least, neither of them had to sleep on it.

"Anyway, it turns into a gang bang on the bed: you sucking one guy with another guy under you, guys trading positions, you coming over and over. First, they get behind you and take you that way. Then each of them moves to your mouth. Mainly, I watch you with them, and after a while, you've had all of them in your pussy and mouth as they make you taste yourself on them. Once they've all had you both ways, Greg shoos the other guys away: he wants you all to himself." Tom began using fuller, more languid strokes, trying to postpone his release as sweat streamed down his cheek to his chin.

"He's huge, gotta be at least eight and the size of your fist. He pushes you to your knees. You know what he wants. You start deep-throating him, trying not to gag on his size. You know he's close to shooting, but he wants to stop. He pulls you back to the bed and growls, 'Get on your hands and knees.' As you do, he gets behind you so that now you're both facing me directly."

Jenn never felt Tom so deep inside her. He was right: being filled with her husband did make her happy.

"He pushes that monster into you and demands, 'Tell me how much you like this, Jenn'. You scream, 'I love your cock, Greg! Please ram that beast into me good and hard while my husband watches!' while looking right at me." Tom was grunting now with each thrust as perspiration continued to run down his body, mingling with Jenn's own.

"Incredibly, he picks up the tempo and he's going deeper now than you've ever had it. 'Yeah, you like taking my cock while hubby watches, don't you? You like making hubby a cuckold, huh?' It's all you can do to concentrate long enough to scream out, 'God, don't stop fucking me with your cock, Greg!'"

Jenn's eyelids fluttered, lost in the thought of it. Her orgasm was building, taunting her just at the edge of her vision.

"While he rides you, he's working a finger into your virgin ass. He goes slowly so he doesn't hurt you. He roars, 'How do you like my finger up your ass while you take my dick? You wanna try taking my cock there next?' 'I'll do anything, take anything, if it means you'll fuck me with that cock again,' you scream."