"Faster, Bobby, faster!" Louise panted as she felt the need begin to build up inside her, in that special place that felt so good.
Bobby must have felt a similar urgency because he began to pump her even more frantically. The slap of his thighs against her buttocks filled the room.
Her hands clawed at his back without regard for the scratches her fingernails made digging into his skin. She arched her own back and neck, and then held her breath as the pressure built and built until she gasped out, "Ohhhh!" and then collapsed on the bed.
The fact that his partner had gone limp didn't even register on Bobby. He was now in the grasp of his own orgasm and nothing short of a gunshot to the head would have stopped him from those last final thrusts into her depths.
Afterwards, they lay there stupefied, panting hard, unable to move or think. Finally, Bobby rolled off of Louise and lay beside her. She looked at him with a mixture of admiration and satisfaction. "God, baby, you are really good. Every time I think it can't get any better, and every time it does."
Bobby reached over and rubbed her nipple. Even after just having finished, his touch sent a little thrill through her. "Hey, LouLou, am I better than Marty?" he asked.
She didn't even hesitate. "So much better," she said, and reached across to fondle his shrunken cock. "So much better," she went on, "that I'm hoping you can give me a repeat before I have to get home."
He could.
By the time Marty slipped into the house, Louise was already in bed. He poked his head in the bedroom door, but her rhythmic breathing told him she was sound asleep. He wandered back into the kitchen and sank down at their dinner table. "Now what?" he asked himself rhetorically. He knew he should get into bed himself, but he was still too wired from the night's work at the printing plant to sleep. He thought about waking Louise to see if he could get a little loving, but he quickly discarded that idea. She'd get really cranky if he woke her. "If I asked her for a blow job, she'd probably bite my dick off," he thought.
"Damn, workin' the 4:00 to midnight shift is really screwing up my life."
It had seemed like such a good idea when Bobby had suggested it a month ago. There were things Marty wanted to do to the house, but money always seemed to be tight, in no small part because Louise spent money like it grew on trees. Marty had been griping about the situation at work when Bobby unexpectedly suggested, "You oughtta think about goin' on the second shift. That shift differential would come in real handy for you two."
It had seemed like a great idea, and Marty was pleasantly surprised to find that Louise had no objections when he'd brought it up. So he'd volunteered to make the switch, and the jump in his first weekly paycheck made Marty feel pretty clever. For the same number of hours per week and only a minor inconvenience he was now taking home a nice increase in pay.
But it didn't take long for the "minor inconvenience" to become more major than Marty had foreseen. In the first place he had a difficult time adjusting to his new sleep routine. For his whole life Marty had been used to coming home from work or school and having hours to relax before going to bed. Now that he was getting home after midnight, he found it almost impossible to go straight to bed after work. Soon he was becoming a night owl.
Marty also found that the new schedule substantially reduced the time he had to spend with his wife. By the time he awoke on week days, she had long since left for her job as an aide at the retirement center. Consequently, the only chance they had to spend time together was on the weekends.
One major result was that the new working hours cut into his love life significantly. To make things worse, instead of increasing her libido, the lack of action during the week seemed to reduce Louise's appetite when they did have time together. On Saturday nights Marty found himself having to wheedle and cajole her into a little fun between the sheets.
Finally, to add insult to injury, Marty found that the two of them weren't actually saving much of the increase in pay for which he'd sacrificed so much. To Louise, money in their joint checking account was money that needed to be spent, and she seemed to fill even more of her time shopping. To make matters worse, Marty was hesitant to sit down and talk with Louise about her shopping habits. The only chance he had for such a conversation was on the weekend when he was hoping to get lucky. There's nothing like a lecture on overspending with the wife to kill any chance for a night's passion.
Marty had hoped to put the extra earnings into their older Victorian house with the nice big yard. They'd been able to buy the home because the widow who had previously owned it had let the place fall into serious disrepair. Marty and Louise had stretched their budget to purchase the old place, and Marty spent much of his spare time renovating it. He was quite proud of what he'd accomplished, but he had even bigger plans for remodeling. As he sat in the dark living room tonight, those dreams seemed further away than ever.
"I don't know how much longer I can keep this up," Marty moaned to himself. It took him an hour before he had unwound enough to slide into bed next to his sleeping wife.
By the time he awakened, it was mid-morning. After a hasty breakfast, he pulled on some old clothes and went out to mow the lawn. Pushing the old mower around the acre lot in the Georgia heat took him a couple of hours and a lot of sweat, and he wished heartily that they had enough money to purchase a riding mower.
That afternoon on the way to work, Marty stopped at the convenience store near the plant to fill up the tank of his truck. As he waited at the counter to pay for the gas, he noticed the sign for the Georgia State Lottery. "Add in a couple of lottery tickets, Millie," he told the old lady who owned the store. "I'm overdue for some good luck."
"You just made the deadline, honey, the drawing is tomorrow. Hope you win," she smiled at him as she gave him his change and the two tickets. He tucked them in his wallet and forgot about them.
That evening's shift was a bear. Normally, the big Heidelberg press pretty much ran itself. But the evening's schedule called for several short press runs, each of which required Marty to clean the rollers, affix four new color plates and then carefully monitor the print run until all four were in registration. One job required a fifth color, which made set-up and registration just that much more time-consuming. By the time his shift was over, Marty was exhausted, but when he got home, once again he found himself too keyed up to sleep.
He slumped in his favorite chair and picked up the remote to turn on the television, then decided against it. Instead, he sat quietly, sipping a can of beer and thinking about his life.
Growing up, Marty was the third child of the family, behind an older brother and sister. He grew up as the quiet, practical one, a good student and an avid reader. He had friends, thanks in part to his popular older siblings, but he was on the periphery of the popular crowd in high school. Not gifted athletically, he volunteered to be the manager of the basketball team. During the summers he'd often go hunting with his father, and he liked the quiet and solitude. But those outings mostly stopped once he reached the age of sixteen. A friend of his father arranged for Marty to get a summer job at the big printing plant in town. As a result, Marty toughened up his slender body wrangling large pallets of paper from the loading dock to the appropriate presses throughout the sprawling facility.
Perhaps those changes in his frame were part of what attracted Louise Luttrell to him. She was one of the prettier girls in the popular crowd and used to date some of the players on the football team. But something about Marty attracted her, and during their senior year the two of them began to date and soon became a steady couple.
