Tammys Middle Aged Adventure Ch 02

Note to readers: Thanks to everyone for the feedback, especially from those other middle-aged moms (and boy are there a lot of you!) for whom my story struck a nerve. Keep the ideas (and yourselves!) coming! I may incorporate some of the suggestions in a later, fictional, chapter, but for the next few episodes I want to tell the story as it actually unfolded.

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I lay there, motionless, watching my husband emerge from the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around his waist. Thanks to twelve years of regular exercise, he was in good shape for a 42 year old – muscular legs, solid arms and a broad chest. A slight spare tire around his waist was the only part of him that wasn't in good shape.

I closed my eyes and thought back to the previous night, amazed by the sexual energy we had produced. I couldn't remember the last time Jack had come twice in one session. And had I really passed out from my climax? Was that all from both of us fantasizing about me having sex with Derek?

As Jack brushed his teeth and put in his contact lenses, I decided that if the fantasy could generate THAT much excitement, I'd play along with it. I didn't actually have to fuck Derek, after all, I just had to prepare myself the way Jack wanted, right? And maybe I'd flirt a little bit and then come home and I'd tell Jack about it and we'd screw like teenagers.

Who knows, maybe Derek was a happily married regular church-goer. (Though, I realized, so was I). Maybe he was gay.

But I sure wasn't going to do anything to derail this little fantasy that had done so much to spark both of our libidos.

I opened my eyes as I felt Jack climbing onto the bed, wearing only a pair of boxers. "That has got to be the best 'welcome home' I have EVER had," he said with a smile as he kissed my forehead. "Mmmmmmm-hmmmmmmm," I purred in response, "hope you liked it as much as I did."

He pulled back the sheet and rubbed his hand slowly down the camisole. "Black silk looks so good against your white skin," he said, brushing a finger across an exposed nipple. "I think we should get you a lacy, black bra for Tuesday."

My heart started pounding – OK, he was serious about the plan he had detailed last night.

"If you think black lace would get Derek's attention," I whispered, "then black lace it'll be." I saw his smile widen and his eyes sparkle as his hand worked its way south.

"That day spa isn't open on Mondays is it?" he said, his eyebrows furrowed in apparent frustration. In the past, Jack had given me gift certificates for massages at one of the nicer spas in town. (He would tell me later that he bought them because he was turned on at the idea of me being naked and touched by another man or another woman, even if it was 'just' a massage).

"No, no, I don't think it is," I said, somewhat confused. "Why do you ask?"

His fingers spread out and combed through my pussy. "We should get your pussy waxed. The more naked and exposed you feel under the skirt, the sexier you'll be."

At that moment, our five year old knocked on the bedroom door, informing us that he was hungry. Jack pulled the sheet up over my breasts and opened the door. "Just give daddy a minute to get dressed and I'll take you downstairs for breakfast, OK?" After he quickly tossed on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, he leaned back onto the bed and gave me a peck on the cheek. "You have yourself a nice, hot, long shower, and I'll have a coffee waiting for you when you get downstairs."

With a laugh, he picked up Jack Jr. and carried him downstairs, telling him that he'd brought surprises for him from Europe.

I contemplated the latest addition to the fantasy. Jack had been pestering me to let him shave my pussy for years, and I had resisted, thinking the scratchy stubble would be uncomfortable.

On the other hand, I remembered my hair stylist (in whom I, like many of her clients, had confided many things about my sex life) had told me she had her pussy waxed regularly and the sensitivity was phenomenal.

I also remembered that I had told her once about Jack's fantasies about watching me with other men. Her advice echoed Nike's old ads: just do it, Tammy.

"What's the worst that can happen if I get waxed?" I thought as I threw back the covers, picked up the tap pants off the floor and walked to the shower. "So I might be a little itchy for a couple of days. If that's what Jack wants to enhance the fantasy, why not?"

I luxuriated in the shower, not having to worry about any of the kids' needs and anticipating one of Jack's delicious lattes when I got downstairs. I carefully shaved my legs, and ran a finger through the wet, dark blonde curls between my legs, curious about what my pussy would feel like bald.

Part of me was tempted to masturbate, but I decided to let myself simmer instead – maybe we could have another little session tonight.

After toweling myself off and opening my "everyday" underwear drawer, I briefly considered wearing a thong all day – that was something Jack always liked. I decided against it, though – he almost always regarded a thong as an invitation to anal sex, and I'm not sure I could take it two nights in a row, considering how tender my sphincter was this morning. Instead, I picked out a pair of smooth, black, cotton panties, finished getting dressed, and headed downstairs to begin another busy suburban Saturday.

"Here you go, Tam," Jack said, putting a foam-topped cup at my place at the kitchen table. "Hot, thick and creamy, just the way you like it," he said with a wink. I gave him a peck and whispered "thanks...I guess it's too bad I don't like my coffee black, huh?"

He grinned and returned to the coffee machine. The day progressed almost as any other day – our son had a birthday party to go to, our younger daughter had a basketball game to go to, our oldest daughter would undoubtedly need chauffeuring to enable her "hanging out."

While I went with our son to the birthday party, Jack told me he was going to the health club to work out, something that he didn't usually have time to do when he was traveling.

"But it won't be the last time today I get all hot and sweaty," he told me, as he gave me a kiss and a playful slap on my rear end.

After we had all gotten back home in the late afternoon (except for the oldest, who my husband had unsurprisingly allowed to go to a friend's house for another sleepover), Jack grilled chicken for us and burgers for the kids. He opened a bottle of my favorite wine and made sure my glass stayed full – another sign, as if I needed one, that he was planning an encore for this evening.

After dinner, I did the dishes while Jack played with the kids outside. Looking out the kitchen window, I was struck by what a good and gentle father and husband he was. Was it strange that he so enjoyed the idea of my being taken by another man? Starting the dishwasher, I laughed – was it any less strange that I, a good and gentle mother and wife, so enjoyed the idea of being taken by another man?

A couple of hours later we got the kids to bed. Returning to our bedroom with a wine glass and another bottle of wine, Jack took me in his arms and ran a hand down my side to my ass. "Why don't you take a nice, long, hot bath," he said as he picked up the bottle, filled the glass and handed it to me. "And when you're done, I'll have a couple of little surprises for you."

I was never one to turn down an opportunity to use our too-rarely used whirlpool tub. I went in and turned on the hot water tap, knowing it would take ten minutes to fill up.

I walked back out into the bedroom, where Jack was lighting candles on the dresser and nightstands. "Help me get undressed?" I asked. I loved it when Jack stripped me, and as he stood and slowly unbuttoned my blouse, I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his hands and savoring the sensation of being prepared for sex.

He pulled the blouse off and threw it on the floor, then walked behind me, cupping my breasts in his hands. With a quick snap, the bra fell away, and I looked at the reflection in the dresser mirror – Jack's hands squeezing my breasts, his lips working down my neck. The image of Derek doing the same floated through my brain, sharpening my arousal. "Finish stripping me, Jack," I whispered, "before the bath gets too full."

Needing no further encouragement, he pulled off my jeans, leaving me standing in my black panties. "You really have developed a fascination with black things," he said, running his hands over my ass. He pulled them down next, and I stood naked in front of him. Extending a thumb and forefinger, he pinched my left nipple, then held me close. "You can arouse yourself in the bath but don't come. Understand?"

"Yes, darling, I understand" I replied, turning away and walking to the bathroom, feeling his gaze on my back and my ass.

The bath was delicious – as I sipped the cold, sweet wine amidst the hot jets of water, I wondered what kind of surprises my ever-imaginative husband might have in store for me. I shifted in the tub so that one of the jets pulsed against my pussy, then moved away before I got too close to coming. For twenty wonderful minutes, I sipped my wine, stroked my breasts, ass and pussy, and marveled at the power of a fantasy.

The whirlpool clicked off, and as I toweled myself off, I drained the rest of my glass. After I was completely dry, I took a deep breath, opened the bathroom door and walked into the bedroom.

The flickering candlelight gave the room a soft glow, and I looked at the bed. Our regular, flowered comforter had been replaced by a white one. And yard-long black straps extended from each of the four posts to the center, forming an incomplete "X." It somehow struck me as an altar for a sacrifice. I shuddered in excitement at the thought of being a sexual sacrifice.

Jack appeared behind me, and I felt his erection press against my rear end. He slipped a blindfold over my eyes. "I actually had a short workout today," he whispered. "I'm going to tie you down on the bed, spread eagled. You're going to tell me the details of every one of your fantasies about Derek. And only when you've done that will I let you come."

My mouth seemed suddenly dry but the idea of reliving those fantasies was

so

appealing. "Yes, Jack," I said simply. I felt him push me towards the bed, and I lay down in what I thought was the middle. He gently lifted one, then the other, ankle, spreading me wide, and securing them to the black straps, which seemed to have some sort of Velcro fastening.

He moved to the head of the bed, stopping to give me a kiss. "Now you know why I didn't want you to come," he said as he secured the first wrist. A moment later, I was bound. A slight tug was all that I could manage on any limb. Jack lay on the bed beside me, and I felt a cold stab on my left breast as Jack touched it with an ice cube.

"So," he said, "tell me your fantasies about Derek."

For what seemed like hours, I confessed every fantasy I had had, and even made up a couple of new ones, while Jack toyed with my pussy or sucked on my nipples or kissed my neck, occasionally using an ice cube or drips of hot wax to prod my memory for more details. After I told him about the cucumbers, he crawled down between my legs and flicked his tongue across my clit, just briefly enough to reward me for my creativity, but not enough to bring me the orgasm I so desperately craved.

When I told him my fantasy about Derek spanking me – me bent across a conference room table, Derek lifting my skirt and punishing me for some unspecified infraction, Jack climbed on top of me and gave me a few slow, deep thrusts, then withdrew.

My arousal was unbelievable – behind the mask, I could visualize the fantasies I was describing. My inability to touch myself, indeed my inability to even move, made it even hotter.

When I had finished detailing every fantasy I had had about Derek, Jack mounted me again. As he began slowly fucking me, he again made me recite what I was going to wear, and do, at the meeting on Tuesday. I was so turned on by that point that I couldn't hold back, and as I once again agreed to let Jack watch the first time Derek fucked my ass, I came explosively. Jack drilled his tongue into my mouth and rode me like a madman, extending my own orgasm. Finally, he pushed himself up on his arms and pumped load after load into my eager pussy.

Some time later – was it seconds? minutes? – Jack unfastened the straps and released me. He blew out the candles, and brought a flannel nightgown to the bed. I slipped it on and after snuggling into his arms, started falling asleep. As he kissed me goodnight, he whispered something about looking forward to going shopping with me on Monday...