Waiting for My Husband

As I sat at a restaurant table in the bar area the Friday night that was the date of my second anniversary waiting for my husband John Tipton to arrive I had lots to think about. I also had lots to be anxious about, and lots to wonder about. At twenty four years old I had won the gene lottery when it came to looks but I was mired in mediocrity when it came to brain power, logic abilities, and common sense. My life was definitely not turning out the way that I envisioned it.

I was born Ashley Soverow to a middle class couple in a rural Midwestern town. My mother was beautiful and full-chested -- leading to my gene lottery win when it came to looks -- but neither she nor my father was very bright, and always struggled to make ends meet for our family of five (I had a brother and sister, both younger than me). I was shy as a child, mostly because I had no self-confidence when it came to school work, and also constantly on guard because of stories my mother told me about boys only looking to get in your pants and get you pregnant -- which neither I nor my family could afford emotionally or financially.

I managed to remain a virgin until my wedding night to John Tipton, although that wasn't easy since after High School (I did graduate, surprising all in my family) when I moved to Minneapolis to get a job as a receptionist because I was constantly hit on. It was only because the receptionist job was at a law firm that handled sex discrimination and sexual harassment cases that I was able to keep the wolves at bay. When I emphatically emphasized that I worked at Wintson, Bailey, and Kent anyone with half a brain knew not to mess with me.

I met John Tipton shortly after moving to Minneapolis. He was a low level paralegal working at another law firm in the high-rise building housing the offices of Winston et al. The firm he worked for had a good relationship with Winston et al -- in fact they even partnered on some cases. John was a good looking guy but apparently had as stunted a sex life as I had had, and never really complained about me wanting to be a virgin when we got married. Unfortunately his brain power wasn't any better than mine. Only looking back on it did I realize that I probably never loved John. He was a nice guy, I felt the need to get married (including because I wanted sex), and he never pressured me.

Although I was a virgin when I married like most teens and young adults in America I bought in to the "sex is the greatest thing" mantra that seems to permeate American culture as evidenced by movies, TV ads, and media in general. I was grossly disappointed the first times that John and I had sex. It wasn't anything like that advertised. I didn't have a real orgasm until about the twentieth time that we did it, and very infrequently after that. I didn't know that realistically (not media portrayals) that it could be different, and even if I did know that I wouldn't know how to talk about it with John.

Not only was my married sex life not up to snuff, but life in general wasn't. I knew that I would never advance in my job and had little ambition, I doubted seriously that John ever would either, and neither of us was good at handling money. We had an apartment with rent higher than we could realistically afford, car payments that were absurd especially since in the city we didn't even use the car that much, and seemed to get dunning letters all of the time. We were probably going to spend our last disposable $100+ dollars on our anniversary dinner hoping that for one night we could forget about our $5,000+ credit card debt that we were unlikely ever going to be able to pay off.

**********

As I sat drinking a club soda (I don't drink alcohol -- I wish that John didn't either) at the table in the restaurant bar area as usual I got hit on three times in the twenty minutes that John was initially late. I was perturbed that he wasn't answering his cell phone, but it was going directly to voicemail. All three hitters were quickly dissuaded when I flashed my tiny engagement and wedding rings and said that I worked directly for bad-ass lawyer Marjory Kent (she is as famous in our community as Gloria Allred is nationally).

The fourth guy was not dissuaded. He was a big, very handsome, guy in an expensive suit and carrying a briefcase that looked like it cost as much as all the furniture in our apartment. "Hi," he smiled as he sat down without being asked, "I'm leaving town tomorrow morning after a lonely two week trip and I hope that you don't mind a little conversation while you're waiting for your husband."

"How do you know that I'm waiting for my husband?" I inquired.

"I saw you flashing your rings to the two guys I saw try and hit on you and was surprised that they gave up so easily."

"I also told them that I work directly for Marjory Kent," I snickered.

"Who's she?"

"The biggest bad-ass sexual harassment attorney in Minnesota -- maybe the entire Midwest," I shot back.

"Glad I'm leaving town and in the meantime won't be sexually harassing you," he grinned. "By the way my pseudonym is Mac Jones," he smiled, extending his hand, "what's your pseudonym?"

I had seen a sign while walking to the restaurant for a strip club that was probably a couple of blocks away whose headliner was "Kitty Kat" so that's how I introduced myself when shaking his hand. His grip was strong and intimate -- I didn't like the way that it made me feel.

We chatted for more minutes than I would have liked, but he was charming and looked me in the eye, not at my prominent chest. I kept looking at my watch. John was now more than forty five minutes late and I was getting a little pissed off. Then several things happened in quick succession.

#1 Mac said "I don't think that your husband is coming. Why don't we get a hotel room and spend the night -- there's $1000 in it for you."

#2 I threw the last couple of ounces of my club soda in his face -- he barely flinched.

#3 Before I could go verbally off on Mac my cellphone rang, caller ID indicating that it was John. "Where the hell are you?" was the pleasant way I answered the phone.

With slurred words (I won't try to mimic them) John replied "Sorry, Ash, but...uh...well I got a DWI and am at the police station on Nicollet Avenue and they're keeping me over night. Can you come tomorrow morning and bail me out?"

"Bail you out with what? Our credit cards are maxed out and I've only got cash for what was to be our anniversary dinner tonight, you bastard. Why in the hell did you get a DWI?"

"Well, I lost my job today and I was feeling real bad...."

"HOLY SHIT" I thought to myself. Here we are in dire financial straits and he lost his job! "Don't be mad, Ash -- I feel horrible."

I took a few deep breaths to calm down then said "I'll try to get there by ten o'clock tomorrow morning and see if I can beg to get you out."

"Thanks hon," he responded. "Got to go now, a cop's pulling on my arm," and then the line went dead.

As I stared out into space, having temporarily forgotten that Mac was even there let alone that he had propositioned me and I threw my drink in his face, he piped up. "Sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear your conversation -- actually both sides of it since I'm told that I have excellent hearing. I'm also sorry that I insulted you with such a low offer. Someone with your beauty and class would easily be worth $5,000 for a night of fun."

I stared at him blankly -- too many things, most filled with dread, were racing through my mind. Mac apparently thought that I was holding out for more so he continued, "OK, $7,500." When I was still in a trance after passage of some more time he said "$10,000 is my final offer. You could use the money Ash -- I mean Kitty Kat."

When he said that I suddenly realized that I could in fact use the money. I knew that that would make me a whore, but given my bleak present -- and likely even bleaker future -- and certainly not hurt by how good looking and muscular Mac was, I snapped out of my stupor. My mouth had a mind of its own when I replied "How do I know that I can trust you. You might take advantage of me and never pay up."

"That's a reasonable concern, however one that is easily solved. I give you the $10,000 in cash, we walk across the street to the Four Seasons, you get a room -- I'll give you the cash for it -- that you sign in for, you give the desk clerk your bundle of cash to put in the safe for you -- and you alone -- and you get it out the next morning when you check out."

"You have $10,000 in cash?" I asked, shocked!

Mac looked around -- he called the waitress over, gave her $100 and said "This is to close out our tab" (which was less than $20 at that point) "we need some privacy for a few minutes."

She smiled at the $100 bill, and said "The far back table just opened up -- you can sit there and not be disturbed for five minutes before we need to clear it off."

With my right hand in his left hand, and his expensive briefcase in his right hand, he led me over to the isolated back table. Blocking anyone's view with his massive back he opened up the case which was full of money -- I was certain that I had never had that much money in my entire life, let alone in one place. He deliberately and calmly counted out one hundred $100 bills while I watched. Then he pulled a small cloth bag out of the bottom of his briefcase brief case, put the $10,000 in it and handed it to me.

I don't know what the expression on my face was at that time but my mind was blown.

Then he handed me $500 more and said "Use this to pay for the hotel room in advance. With that, and your ID, they'll give you a room. Have them put the bag in their safe with instructions to give it to no one but you -- the guest who rented the room. I'll be waiting near the elevators and you just tell me the room number and I'll follow you up a few minutes after you get in the elevator."

I nodded my head like an automaton. He held my left hand as I clutched my purse and the bag in my right, and led me across the street. He moved away from me as we walked into the Four Seasons and I marched up to the desk like I knew what I was doing. I was surprised that getting a room and having the desk clerk take my bag and give me a photo of it with a claim check, went off without a hitch.

I whispered "Room 1215" to Mac as I passed him, got in the elevator, swiped the key card, and entered the room. Only once I was in 1215 did I start to really realize what the hell was going on. I took a series of deep breaths before I heard a knock on the door, and steeled myself to go through with it; $10,000 was John's and my salvation!

*************

I opened the door and Mac entered with a smile. I was expecting him to immediately attack me. He didn't instead with an even bigger smile he said "Let's have a drink and a chat before we shower together."

"Uh...I...don't drink," I stuttered.

"Sure you do -- don't you remember the club soda you threw in my face." He chuckled.

He went to the in-room refrigerator, pulled out a can of club soda for me and a beer for himself, poured them into glasses, and then we sat next to each on the small couch in the room. "So tell me about yourself, Kitty Kat," he grinned.

After twenty minutes of conversation -- where he told me as much about himself as I told him about me -- I have no idea how much of it was true -- I was almost calm. I was surprised that I was getting quite enamored with his smile, his laugh, his easy-going personality, and his piercing cobalt-blue eyes which almost seemed to penetrate into my soul.

When our drinks were finished he stood us both up and mesmerized me by staring into my eyes. "I want to unwrap my present now, then I want you to take my clothes off," he smiled.

He slowly removed my top, my skirt, my bra, my shoes, and my undies in that order. He soothingly talked as he did so -- his voice was so melodious that I didn't panic or try to cover up while he undressed me, not only with his hands but with his eyes. "You've got a completely killer body, Kitty Kat," he grinned when I was naked and he held me at arm's length, perusing my body from head to toe. "Now undress me!"

I was much less adroit at undressing him as he was in stripping me, but he said only encouraging and flattering words as I did so. He was finally naked except for his underpants, which were clearly tented. When I pulled them down a phallus popped out that looked like it was at least twice as long and thick as John's. I visibly gasped and retreated slightly. However, after staring at it gap-jawed for what seemed like minutes I was so entranced that I moved my hands to touch it. When I did touch it the phallus twitched. I looked into Mac's face and while still smiling he now had a lustful look.

Mac lifted me off my knees, lifted me off the ground like my 130 pounds was nothing, and carried me into the bathroom. Once the water was warm he lifted me into the fortunately large shower stall.

I had never showered with someone else before.

My mind was essentially blank, though my belly was on fire, as his hands roamed over my entire body, sometimes with soap, often without. When I was spanking clean he grumbled "Now wash my cock off so that it's nice and clean when it penetrates your pussy."

Again acting like an automaton I did as told. Impossibly it got even larger and harder, and as I also moved my hands to his testicles I was shocked that they seemed to be as large as lemons, not as small as kumquats like my husband's. Mac groaned as I massaged his lemons and when his last groan was very loud he then suddenly turned me around and placed my hands against the shower stall wall while I was bent at the waist.

I felt Mac's fingers penetrate my pussy, energizing it like it had never been energized before. When I thought that I could no longer take it I felt a much larger object touch my labia. I knew that it was the head of his cock -- I was worried that it wouldn't fit but by then I was anxious to find out.

The penetration was slow. I actually had two orgasms as large as any in my life during penetration alone. To my surprise it seemed like the entire phallus was buried when he started pistoning back and forth. Within seconds I had an orgasm so intense that I almost passed out, and rather than dissipating it seemed to be continuous. Once Mac started grunting jets of cum started blasting my vagina; I screamed as my climax reached a level I thought impossible, and then I know that I passed out.

I was probably out for less than a minute. When I regained awareness I was standing straight up with Mac's cock still in my vagina and his hands mauling my tits. I never before felt more serene and charged up, at the same time, in my entire life.

The rest of the night I was in a blissful stupor. I will never forget the feelings of fullness, contentment, and joy that consumed me hour after hour. I had more sexual experiences and orgasms in the next nine hours than I had my entire life before that night. I was also shocked by the uplifting and positive pillow talk between our many bouts of sexual bliss.

I was even more shocked when Mac started eating my pussy. I had never had oral sex before; it was fantastic, and the orgasm from Mac giving me oral was twice as intense as any orgasm sex with John had ever given me.

I was enthralled when Mac fucked my tits. I had never had my tits fucked before, but it seemed to come naturally to me. When he spewed seminal fluid over my chin and chest I had yet another orgasm, this once as powerful as any one sex with John had ever given me. I didn't know that a woman could have an orgasm from titty fucking before that night!

I don't know how Mac kept it up all night, but once I did see him popping a little blue pill into his mouth as we took a break to drink some water. It was at that point that I suddenly realized that he was fucking my brains out without a condom. I blurted out "Mac, you didn't use a condom."

"For $10,000 I shouldn't have to," he grinned, and then continued "but no worries." He climbed out of bed, went into his suit pocket and pulled out an STD test report. My initial reaction was "Who the hell carries an STD test report with them," but before I could ask he explained. "As you can see it is from fifteen days ago. I needed it for a 'job' I did two weeks ago. The woman I was with also had an STD-free report, so you don't have to worry; but you can use some of the $10,000 to have yourself tested tomorrow if you need further assurance. Now, how about sucking my testicles -- you really do a good job with that," he grinned.

I tossed the STD-free report away and did as asked. I really enjoyed sucking his testicles -- and his cock. I just couldn't get over how big they were, or that he cock even fit in my pussy.

The last mating of the night that I remember -- he may have mauled or abused me more when I was comatose -- was when he fucked me doggy style with what he called a butt plug up my ass. My entire body seemed to pulsate as his cock pummeled my pussy while he periodically moved the butt plug back and forth in my nether region. When he started ejaculating into me I passed out again -- this time apparently for the duration of the night.

*************

I woke up the next morning alone, and in a sexual fog. My entire body ached -- but it was a good ache. My pussy was completely red, my nipples were distended and sore, and every muscle felt like it had been pushed to its limit. I stumbled out of bed and saw that the bedside digital clock read 9:58 a. m. I remembered that I had to go to the police station on Nicolett but I sure wasn't getting there by 10 o'clock. I didn't give a shit.

I did my business, noting that lots of white stuff was still leaking out of my pussy. Fortunately the swanky hotel room has a bidet so I thoroughly douched. I took a long hot shower, and almost felt human again as I exited it.

As I got dressed in the same clothes from the previous night I saw a note on top of my underpants. "Ash/Kitty Kat, you are an all-time fuck. That was the best night of my life. I hope that the tip stuffed into your undies will let you believe that. Of course I didn't tell you my whole story. I'm leaving the country to avoid some bad people, but if I weren't I'd make every effort to steal you from your husband. With stars in my eyes, 'Mac'. P. S. I wouldn't deposit more than $2,000 in cash in a bank at any one time."

I smiled, and then looked inside my panties; another $5,000 in $100 bills! I almost fainted.

I checked out about 10:40, got my bag of cash from the hotel safe, on my way to the police station deposited $2,000 in our joint checking account at one bank, and another $2,000 in my personal savings account in a second bank, then took a taxi to Nicolett Avenue. I walked bowlegged from place to place, each shot of pain causing me to smile rather than grimace.

When I arrived at the police station all they wanted was "only" $500 cash bond to get John out. To think that just yesterday that would have been impossible but now was "only" caused me to snicker to myself. John was expecting me to ream him out. I was too serene to do so. I got the car keys from the desk sergeant and drove us home. John spent the entire weekend apologizing; I spent the entire weekend reliving my sexcapades of Friday night through Saturday morning with a smile in my heart if not on my face -- and sleeping to recover.

Things changed dramatically for John and I after that weekend.

First I got an associate attorney at my law firm who used to work for a pro bono law firm to represent John in his DWI. She was very good and negotiated a deal with the prosecutor that was the best that he could hope for. Since he hadn't done any damage, it was his first criminal arrest, and he accepted responsibility he got off with loss of his license for six months, a year's probation, 200 hours of community service, a $500 fine (the bail money), and taking a two day course for drunk drivers.