Jen and I had a very happy first eight and one half years of marriage. We seemed compatible in every way – especially in the bedroom. She was as tender as a lamb, and as sweet as honey, yet she could suck the chrome off of a trailer hitch and fucked as well as any call girl (at least the three I had used before we were dated and I was on long lonely business trips). Also, her pussy smelled like cinnamon – and I loved eating it, playing with her clit, and giving her an occasional shocker (two in the pink, one in the stink)!
Then for some reason, Jen decided that she needed to conquer the world. Being smart, savvy, and accomplished, I wasn't surprised that she was hired for a high profile, intense, job with our local female Senator, Julie Michaels (we lived in Northern Virginia so at least she would be able to come home at night from the Senate offices in Washington, D. C. the vast majority of the time). However, I didn't understand her desire for the job especially since she had never been particularly political before, and her new job paid $15,000 less per year than the job she left (although we didn't really have any financial problems since I made six figures and we weren't extravagant).
My sex life suffered badly when Jen started working for Julie. Our frequency went from four-five times a week to once or twice. When Jen wasn't out of town she was tired, and while she rarely refused my advances, it often was like fucking a blowup doll, and it always was missionary because even doggy required too much effort on her part, let alone The Wheelbarrow, The Face-Off, or The Hotseat (doggy and The Face-Off are my favorites).
I was really getting desperate and pissed and was starting to think of alternatives when a ray of hope broke through the clouds of sexlessness. I thought that I was finally going to be able to have the exclusive attention of my wife of ten years when Jen excitedly told me first thing on a Wednesday morning after getting off her cellphone with Julie: "Bryce, at long last I can take a week off. Can you make arrangements for a resort where we can relax – and fuck," the "and fuck" part delivered with a giggle – "for seven days, from the 17th through the 23rd?"
With a big grin on my face I picked her up, spun her around as she giggled some more, and said "How about we get a start on it now?"
"Sorry, honey; but I've got to meet Julie and some constituents in twenty minutes; save yourself for our trip," Jen replied.
Then she gave me a quick kiss, picked up her briefcase, and with a smile and a wave was gone.
I normally would have been pissed, but the thought of constant sex for a week quickly lightened my outlook. I immediately booked a room and vacation package at Golden Green, a four star resort about 250 miles away, for the week of the 17th through 23rd. I had a song in my heart and a smile on my face as I got ready for work.
Fortunately, I have a job that is almost like white collar piecework, and I'm very efficient at it. Since it was only the 8th I had some time to get ahead at work so that I could take a week off without adversely affecting my job in any way. Since Jen got home late most nights it was no problem for me to work late.
Despite the fact that I was putting in long hours at work from the 8th to the 16th and efficiently getting ahead, I was still super-charged sexually thinking about the upcoming resort trip. Jen did not share my sexual enthusiasm, however, and was even more tired than usual since she too had work she needed to get done before our trip. However we did have two blowup doll-simulating missionary fucks during each of which I seemed to jettison a liter of cum into her placid pussy.
As part of my super-charged sexuality I had scored some little blue pills. While I didn't need them, I wanted to have them since I hoped that I was going to get three months' worth of fucking into a single week.
The morning of the 17th finally arrived. I quickly packed the car, and we got as early a start as I could have hoped for given that Jen didn't get to bed until 2 a. m. She slept in the car – which was fine by me since she would be rested when we got to Golden Green and I envisioned a vigorous doggy fuck as soon as we got to our room.
Golden Green was even nicer than I had been led to believe by friends who had been there before. Our room was ready by the time that we checked in. I talked Jen into showering with me for the first time in ages, and when we were done before we were even completely dried off I was able to fulfill my ambition of starting the week off with a doggy fuck. While Jen still wasn't completely with it, experiencing some lasting fatigue from her previous work week even though the shower did wake her up some, it was probably the nicest fuck since she started working for Julie.
A minor complication arose when we went to dinner. Queuing up to enter the dining room we came across Gail and Wendell Powers. I used to work with Wendell, and we had socialized quite a bit with Gail and Wendell over the last five years, and they were easy to get along with. Then why was that a complication?
It was a complication because to me Gail Powers was a siren. I honestly don't know what she had that made my palms sweat, my breathing get shallow, my heart to pound, and – if I ever looked at myself in the mirror – my pupils dilate.
Gail is a pretty woman, but no beauty queen. Overall Jen is better looking than she is.
Gail has a nice body, but in general nothing to write home about with small (even if very perky) tits and an ass smaller than I like them; although there is no denying that she has really, really, really, really (is that too many?) thighs.
Having spent more time thinking about another man's wife than I should have over the last five years, I have come to the conclusion that she's a woman who is irresistibly alluring (the definition of a "siren") because she has every natural provocative mannerism known to womankind, including (without limitation) how she holds her hands and arms; the soft impromptu touches she give when conversing; the way she flips her beautiful lustrous brown hair over her shoulder when she smiles or laughs; the intensity of her stare with her absinthe green eyes usually highlighted by an identical shade of expertly applied eye shadow; and a walk that results in a natural ass (though small, still nice and bulbous) wiggle (and instant hardening of my cock).
Plus, I'm convinced that she has pheromones that are specifically attuned to my vomeronasal organ [a specialized half-moon shaped structure located inside the nose]. Pheromone signals picked up by my vomeronasal organ are relayed through nerves to the hypothalamus area of my brain, and I am convinced that Gail's pheromones travel that route at lightning speed.
I lived in fear that Gail was on to how I felt about her, especially since I didn't want Wendell or Jen to ever find out, and because I never noticed her having the same attraction to me that I did to her. It didn't help me hide my attraction that when I normally greeted her I said "If it isn't the warm sultry tropical breeze on a cold winter's day," never failing to induce a big grin in Gail's face. I even gave up saying that to her since my sex life plummeted, however, when I vowed to make every effort to hide my attraction to her. In fact, over the last eighteen months, when my sex life hit the skids, I made more and more effort to avoid Gail. I never wanted to cheat on Jen, and being around Gail when I was constantly thinking of sex and wanting more was an invitation to disaster.
Of course Jen invited Gail and Wendell to dine with us. While at first distressed that I was going to have to conceal all of the physical manifestations of my lust for the siren, I decided to turn that lust into enhanced anticipation of fuck sessions with Jen, so I simply enjoyed myself at dinner.
After dinner the four of us danced in the resort ballroom. I had made up my mind that I would not be dancing a slow dance with the siren, however when a fast dance that we were dancing morphed into a slow one and Gail immediately glommed on to me, that plan became moot. I couldn't hide my boner; I could only hope that she didn't feel it, although the diabolical grin on her face every time that she looked up at me with her cobra eyes told me that I was busted.
The evening ended about 11:00 p. m. By then, my cock having been hard for the better part of three hours, I couldn't wait to bury it in Jen's pussy. Jen was hot when we got into our room and it was a miracle that no clothing was torn as we quickly shed all of our garments. After I licked and sucked her clitoris to one orgasm, then gave her a shocker, I picked her up and placed her on my lap, facing me, as I sat on the edge of the bed. This was one of my two favorite positions – The Face-Off. In that position I could occasionally suck her tits and finger her ass as I laid the wood to her.
While Jen obviously still had the after-effects of her emotionally and physically taxing last few months, she was surprisingly spry, and our mutual orgasms were highly satisfying. Not as satisfying was the fact that she almost immediately passed out, more than just fell asleep, after we disengaged.
While Jen lightly snored I laid in bed, still sexually charged, with a hand on one of her tits thinking about how I could knock off a piece of ass in the middle of the night without her getting upset with me for waking her from a sound sleep. Unfortunately I never got the chance to worry too much about that. Jen's cellphone buzzed loudly – the clock at the side of the bed said 2:14 a. m. I reached for the cellphone with the intention of putting it under the mattress, but Jen seemed to awaken instantly and got to it before I did.
I knew immediately from Jen's side of the conversation that it was Julie – or one of her peons – on the other end of the line. She terminated the call after only a couple of minutes.
"Holy shit, Bryce; there's a crisis in the Middle East and I have to get back to Washington."
"Jen, there's always a crisis in the Middle East – and why are you being called back to solve it, you're no expert on Arabs and Israelis," I said, trying to hide the anger that I felt at this rude interruption.
"Julie is on the Armed Services Committee, and there's an emergency meeting at the White House. Julie needs me," she frantically replied as she hopped out of bed.
"And how are you going to get there now?" I sarcastically asked.
"A military jet at the local Air Force base is flying me to Bolling Air Force Base. The local base is about ten miles from here. Can you drive me there?" she stated, then asked, as she quickly got dressed.
"I guess this is what they meant by 'or worse' in our marriage ceremony, huh?" I muttered; she made no reply.
I did the good husband thing as I drove her to the local Air Force base, but I sure wasn't happy about it. "I know how you looked forward to this trip, and I'm so sorry," she said. "I'll try and get back; I don't want you to have to leave."
"Yeah, it will just be like home – no sex – only costing $450 a night," I grumbled.
"Don't be like that..." Jen plead. "This is my job."
"Which apparently is a hell of a lot more important to you than I am," I snarled. Again she made no reply.
I passed her off at the gate to the Air Force base to a couple of airman in a Jeep; she gave me a completely perfunctory kiss. "I'll call you, and make it up to you," she said as she drove off.
"Big fucking deal," I called after her, only I couldn't be heard over the noise of the Jeep driving off.
