Tripping the Switch

[Author's Note: This story will make a lot more sense if you read part one first. Thanks to all who sent me feedback on part one. Some loved it - some hated it. Either way, if I've aroused passionate feelings about it, I've accomplished my goal. Enjoy part two. There is more to come.]

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One month later . . .

I came across Jeff's story, Tripping the Switch, and decided to continue it - the story from my point of view and what has happened in the last month. It was nice to read about how much he still desired me and thought I was beautiful and sexy after nineteen years. A woman never really knows what her husband is thinking - men will generally do and say anything to get some sex. I was a little surprised about how wrong he could be about me though, about what I wanted and about our relationship in general. I have to admit, I am at least partly responsible for some of those mistaken impressions. I guess I'm a pretty good actress - at least with Jeff.

We met twenty years ago when we both worked for a real estate company selling homes in Orange County. The company got the exclusive contract for selling a large tract of new homes that ranged from small "starter homes," all the way up to what we used to call "McMansions." We were both hired at the same time when the company rapidly expanded to meet the demands of a hot selling market. We went through orientation together and hit it off immediately. Jeff was so nice and friendly and seemed to have the gift of gab, moving easily from topic to topic. Even more importantly, he seemed to really listen to me when I spoke and be interested in what I said. We immediately became good friends and shared selling tips and tricks that we each learned along the way.

Neither one of us were kids when we met - I was thirty; Jeff was thirty-four. Neither one of us had ever been married before. I don't know why Jeff was still available - he was handsome, thoughtful and funny. Me, I guess I was just too busy with my career in real estate to get involved in a serious relationship. Back in those days, it was still a man's world when it came to business and particularly sales and I had to work twice as hard as my male colleagues to get any sort of recognition and better assignments. I wasn't really looking to get married but back then, when a gal passed thirty and wasn't married, it seemed to require an explanation - and I was constantly asked the question, "so how come you're still single?"

After two weeks of orientation in which we spent eight hours a day together at work and then usually had dinner together afterwards, the friendship slowly evolved into something more. I didn't love Jeff, but I really liked him; he was so much fun to be with, I had the best time just talking with him over dinner. I discovered he was an overachiever, at least as far as his family was concerned. Like the rest of his family, he never went any further than high school in his education, but he studied hard and got his real estate license and worked steadily in the field with moderate success ever since.

As for myself, I guess I was considered an underachiever at first. I came from a family of professionals - my dad was a dentist and my mother a psychologist. I graduated cum laude from UCLA with a Bachelor's and Master's degree in marketing. When I started my career as a real estate sales associate, it was considered a come down for someone with my education but as a woman, at the time, it was the only job I could get in marketing that put my success in my own hands. Regardless of my gender and the prejudices of the time, I knew that if I could sell houses and bring in commissions, there would always be a place for me and money I could make.

After orientation, we were assigned to the same sales office and the friendship continued as did the dinners. We were so busy, that often the dinners didn't start until nine or ten o'clock. It was at one of those late dinners on a Saturday night, that our friendship changed into something more. We were both still jazzed up from a frenetic day of selling and had more than our usual single cocktail before ordering dinner. We recounted the day's events and laughed harder and harder at the craziness of both of us having multiple deals in the works on multiple properties with competitive bids and counter-bids flying back and forth while new potential buyers came and went and sometimes forced their way into the bidding.

I was halfway through my third vodka and tonic and second shrimp cocktail when I looked at Jeff laughing uproariously at my last story and it suddenly hit me that I wanted him. My face was flushed and seemed to radiate heat and I could feel that telltale tingle between my legs that told me that I was going to have sex that night no matter what and, at that moment, Jeff looked like the sexiest man alive to me. For the first time, I began to appraise him from a physical point of view and liked what I saw. In addition to his angular face and neat, close-cropped hair, he had the slim, tightly muscled physique that I liked in my bed partners. I could feel my nipples tighten and harden as I sized him up.

As I sipped my drink, I let my leg wander over and "accidently" brush his thigh. He pulled his leg back a little to make room for mine. At that point, I let him know that the brush was not an accident by letting my hand wander over and rest on his thigh. He looked at me quizzically, trying to figure out what I was up to, then smiled as it came to him. Our eyes locked onto each other and we both smiled, neither of us saying anything; the silence a little odd after the hour or so of uproarious laughter from both of us. My hand lingered on his thigh a few moments and then gently squeezed and massaged it. His hand covered mine and began to slowly stroke my fingers and the top of my hand. It felt heavenly and I reacted immediately to his touch, feeling a little zing of pleasure in my pussy as I squeezed my thighs together.

At that point, neither one of us was interested in ordering dinner. Jeff called for the check, paid it quickly in cash and we left. Neither of us was in condition to drive so we grabbed a cab. I lived a lot closer so we went to my place. We were all over each other in the back seat of that cab. We kissed several times with the kisses becoming more urgent and sensual. His hand wandered up my leg, sliding under my tight, business suit skirt along my inner thigh. The back of his fingers brushed my panty covered mound which was already damp and getting wetter. My hands were busy kneading and massaging his chest and abs, working their way down to the tent in his lap. He moaned loudly through locked lips as I ran my fingers all along his hardness through his pants.

It seemed we pulled up to my front door in an instant. Neither of us noticed; the cabbie had to announce we were there before we broke our feverish embrace and took notice that we had arrived. I got out first, wobbly from a potent mixture of vodka and lust. I fumbled for my keys as Jeff paid the cab driver, not even waiting for change from the twenty he gave him for a seven dollar tab. He bounded out of the cab and was right behind me when I tripped on that stupid little step that leads up to my front door. Fortunately, Jeff caught me, reaching out grabbing me around my mid-section and pulling me upright until I regained my balance. His arm rested under my breasts and he held me tightly, pressing his hips into my rear as he softly kissed the back of my neck. The combination of his soft lips on the nape of my neck, the firm grip of his arm pressing into the undersides of my soft breasts and the hardness of his shaft pressing into the cleavage of my ass checks through the tight material of our clothes, sent an electric shock of hot pleasure coursing through my groin. I moaned softly and turned around to kiss him again on the lips, inserting my tongue deeply into his mouth and twirling it all around.

I couldn't wait to have him in me so I broke the embrace, turned back towards my front door and found the keyhole after three tries, finally unlocking the door and opening it. We rushed inside. Jeff closed the door behind him. I turned around immediately and kissed him, pressing his back into the door as I slid my hands down to his belt and unbuckled it; fumbled with and finally found the button and clasp in front of his pants and pulled his zipper down. Immediately, I slid my hand down inside the top of his shorts and found his pole. It was hot, wet and slippery as his copious pre-cum leaked out from the slit. He moaned loudly as I slid the palm of my hand lightly over his shaft and then brushed the underside of his dick head with my thumb. His knees seemed to buckle and his hands shook as they searched for the zipper on the side of my fitted skirt, finally finding it and drawing down rapidly in one quick movement.

He pulled my skirt off my hips and it fell to the floor in a heap. I stepped out of them, still holding onto his shaft and pressing my lips onto his. Both of our tongues were alive now, dancing and playing with each other, twirling and entwining, slipping and sliding, thrusting and withdrawing. We were both giggling like teenagers when I pulled his pants and shorts down together, almost ripping them down until they were gathered at his ankles. We both sank to our knees and continued our tight embrace, our lips welded to each other. We were still just inside my carpeted, entry foyer. It was dark except for a small night light that sat on a small table just off the entryway. I continued to lean into him and he gave way slowly, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, his legs all caught and tangled up in his pants and shorts, his shoes, socks, shirt and tie still on. There was no time for further disrobing - we were both bursting with sexual tension.

I continued to lean into him until he fell back flat on his back, his legs straight out in front of him; his ankles still bound by his pants and shorts. I was on top of him immediately, straddling his hips with my long legs, rubbing my panty covered mound all over his hard dick, then humping him through the thin material of my panties, my lips locked onto his. He was moaning loudly:

"Yes Trina, yes, yes, don't stop, don't stop!"

I could tell he was very close to cumming. I wanted him inside of me when he exploded, I wanted to feel his hot load shooting inside me. There was no time to remove my panties so I just yanked the front of it aside, found his dick with my other hand , raised my hips up and drove myself down onto it, impaling myself in one swift downward thrust. Our pubic mounds slammed together and the shock of it sent powerful waves of pleasure shooting from my clit, then rapidly expanding to fill my entire groin. I pulled up and as I sent myself down again, he thrust his hips up, slamming our groins together, my ravenous pussy swallowing every inch of that delicious pole. In a preview of things to come, he had been in me for about a minute or so and I was just finding my rhythm when his body went rigid and I heard:

"Oh god, oh god, oh GOD! I'mm cummming, I'm cummmmmmmmming! Ahgggggkkhh! Ahhhhggkk! Ahhhhhhhhhhh, Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Yesssssssssssss!"

He threw his arms around me and pulled me tightly to himself as he thrashed about in the throes of ecstacy. I felt hot streams of cum shooting into my soaking box in squirt after squirt, bathing my cervix in thick ropes of his white syrup. I was disappointed that he hadn't lasted longer but I was so close to orgasm myself that I kept up the pace, slamming my hips down grinding myself into him; finally, slipping my fingers between us and finding the hard, hot button of my clit. I began rolling it around in my fingers, scissoring and squeezing it, jamming my fingers in alongside his softening shaft, feeling the hot, thick soup of our mingled juices filling my cunt. My fingers groped inward searching for my g-spot and finding it, then pressing upward until I felt a continuous pulsation of electric like shocks and small, powerful, muscular spasms all over my pussy. I felt that last triggering spasm deep in my groin that sent me over the top.

"Oh god yessss, yesssssss, yessssss! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhggkkkkkkkkk! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Uggkkkkkkkhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Yesssssssssssss! So good, so good."

It seemed every muscle in my body contracted and I jerked spasmodically, slamming my hips down and grinding my pubic mound into his as I felt the gush of my own hot juices flow all around my fingers, coating them in a thin, slippery sheen. I felt my toes curl hard inside my shoes, still strapped tightly around my ankles. Finally, I collapsed on top of him, fingers still pressed into my soaking crotch, I felt his now completely soft dick slide out of me followed by a hot stream of our mingled juices flowing down the insides of my thighs. I was completely sated - like a full meal after a day long fast. Jeff barely stirred under me, content to have me cover him in the warm blanket of my body. We both conked out, not stirring again until the first light of dawn peaked through the window shades. Jeff and I laughed when we found we were literally stuck together at the groin, our juices having dried between our tightly pressed skin.

The relationship continued as we worked together in the same office by day, then dined out and slept together at night. We were constantly together but never seemed to tire of each other. Jeff was undemanding, easy-going and flexible about everything. Nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers. If I had to delay or cancel dinner or a night together because of work there was never a complaint. He seemed to perfectly fit my desired lifestyle.

Six months went by and I could tell he was getting serious when he started talking about the future and using the "we" pronoun, as in "we can buy a house," and talking about kids. I began to give a future with Jeff a lot of thought. I didn't think I was in love with Jeff, but never having experienced that "head over heels" feeling in a relationship before was not sure how that was supposed to feel. I did know that I loved being with Jeff, that he was incredibly kind and considerate and wouldn't make constant demands on me. I also knew that he had no problem with deferring to me to make decisions; he was clearly a follower, not a leader. Although I hadn't really considered the idea of motherhood before, I did when thinking about marrying Jeff and just knew that if I had kids with him that he would be a great father. I also knew from the way other women looked at Jeff and flirted with him, that if I turned him down, he would be snapped up quickly by somebody else.

Of course there was the question of sex. He was a rabbit in the sack - lasting two or three minutes tops - but he was also very caring afterwards and always brought me to orgasm with fingers and a vibrator. I knew it wasn't ideal but it was satisfying most of the time and it was a damn sight better than most of my experiences in bed. Most men came quickly and then just rolled over and went to sleep without the least regard for my physical needs. I thought perhaps Jeff would mellow over time as he aged and became more used to my body. I thought he would learn to last longer.

So, when he asked me to marry him after six months of dating, I said yes. We were married three months later in a small, civil ceremony, neither of us being religious or wanting to go through all the hoopla of a big wedding. We honeymooned in Maui and came back in a state of wedded bliss, having spent ten days snorkeling by day and fucking like rabbits at night. The afterglow of those wonderful days carried over for months afterward.

We continued to work together in the same sales office but over the course of months, management noticed a distinct difference in our capabilities. Jeff did okay selling starter homes to young couples but didn't seem able to connect with well educated, white collar professionals which were the vast majority of buyers for middle priced and upper end houses. I, on the other hand, really connected well with professionals and seemed to have the knack for closing the deal on the largest, luxury homes, the estate type properties. My manager described it as a "knack." I think he chalked it up to my womanly charms, but it was really the result of hard work, detailed research and marketing on my part. In any case, our assignments changed to fit our capabilities. I began working the "McMansions" exclusively; Jeff was permanently assigned to the two bedroom starter homes at the very bottom of the real estate rung.

With our different assignments and capabilities, our incomes began to diverge considerably. My commission split of one and a half percent was a heck of a lot bigger on the million dollar plus homes I sold as compared to Jeff's eighty thousand dollar crackerjack boxes. But Jeff was fine with it, even agreeing that I had far more potential in this field than he did. He was happy selling those boxes to young couples and knew he wasn't capable of much more. He was genuinely happy with my success and very supportive, taking over errands and more household chores so I would have time to plan marketing campaigns and meet with clients. I couldn't ask for anything more really.

A year later I was pregnant with the twins, Jonah and Jenna. It wasn't really an accident. I knew Jeff really wanted kids and I began to feel my biological clock ticking for the first time. I also knew that Jeff would agree to stay home with the kids - our income difference was so great that we couldn't afford my staying home. Two months after I gave birth, I went back to work. And just as thought, Jeff agreed that it would be much better for our family if he stayed home and took care of the kids. He did a wonderful job caring for the twins as infants and toddlers and managing the house. He became a first class house husband.

Meanwhile, my career took off. Two years after I returned to work, I was offered a position with the premier luxury property real estate agency in the country, Whitworth and Associates. I jumped at the offer, immediately making fifty percent more in my first year with them. Four consecutive years of making the Diamond Circle Club - awarded to the top one percent of real estate agents with the company, got me an offer of partnership and the opportunity to build a network of my own agents. By the time I was forty, I was making over three hundred thousand dollars a year and had the potential for much more as my network of subordinate agents grew. We moved into a large house, one of those "McMansions" that I was so good at selling, and lived very comfortably, entertaining our friends and my business associates often.

Although our marriage appeared solid on the outside, my friends marveling that Jeff would accept his role of house husband with such equanimity, it was slowly crumbling from the inside. Our sex life had cooled considerably after the twins were born. I was tired from long hours of work and Jeff continued to be the "two minute man" whenever we did have sex. Whereas in our younger days he would give me lots of attention and bring me to orgasm with fingers and vibrator after one of his "rabbit fucks," this attention diminished over time. By the time I reached forty, more often than not he just rolled over after he came and went to sleep.

I tried talking to Jeff about this but it was the one subject that he was very sensitive about and got angry whenever I brought it up. He refused to see anybody about it either by himself or in couple counseling. It got to the point where he would be angry for days afterward if I even mentioned it so I finally just clammed up and said nothing. My way of dealing with it I guess was to find excuses for not having sex with him in the first place. As Jeff said in his story in part one, he wanted sex every day, we compromised with twice a week for several years, but as his premature ejaculation problem continued and he showed no interest in fixing it, I became less available to him. The twice a week became once a week; the once a week became twice a month. Sometimes it was just once per month.