Wow! I cannot believe all the feedback I received for 'Teaching the Cocktease.' Thank you all so much! I'm glad to see my fantasies make you hot as well. =)
Some people were also rather upset with me regarding Scarlett's age. I'm pretty sure I said she was eighteen in the story...(in fact I'm sure I did)...but just to be safe I will mention it up here. Scarlett is eighteen.
This work is also completely fictitious. Anderson, however, is real. *Sigh* If he only knew what he was missing out on...
*
"Andy, honey? Are you coming down soon? We have to leave. The opera starts in a little over an hour!"
"I'll be right down!" Anderson Walker called over his shoulder. He rolled his eyes, thankful that he was upstairs in the bedroom and his wife Carla couldn't see him. God forbid they be late to the opera. He continued with his task at hand, packing the suitcase that lay open on the bed in preparation for their night out.
In Anderson's opinion, the night out was much needed. Work had been especially stressful lately. The credit company he worked for had recently been bought out by a larger corporation, causing lots of changes and an increase in paperwork. Anderson had been pulling the weight of several slacking employees lately, and had yet to see a change in his compensation. To make matters worse, he'd recently suggested implementing a new system to his supervisor, who in turn pitched the idea to the boss. Anderson's supervisor had taken credit for the idea as if it were his own and earned himself a sizeable bonus in the process.
Anderson never spoke up about the unfair situation. He preferred to glare at his supervisor from afar like a stubborn child; sulk in his cubicle and avoid the break room like it was an incubator for some kind of plague. He knew he'd been wronged and it certainly bothered him, but bringing the topic to light would only ruffle feathers. In his mind, it wasn't worth speaking up if it meant making others angry with him. He would rather be unhappy himself than risk making someone else upset.
His friends often called him a pushover, a doormat. One friend even joked that the doctor had made a slip during his vasectomy and removed his testicles entirely. Anderson usually just laughed it off, but part of him knew their accusations were true. His reserved demeanor left him unsatisfied in all aspects of his life, and his marriage was no exception.
Having been married for fifteen years, it was understandable that the once vibrant sparks would have dimmed. However, Anderson was starting to wonder if the sparks had ever been bright at all. He and Carla were great friends, but their relationship seemed to mirror that of brother and sister more than husband and wife.
Their sex life had always been bland. Missionary position only. No oral sex. Anal play was out of the question. Condoms were a necessity. Sure, part of the reason you got a vasectomy was so you wouldn't have to worry about your wife getting pregnant, but if Anderson wasn't mistaken, he thought another reason was so that you could cum inside your wife's pussy without the suffocating barrier of latex. More and more he was starting to realize the things he would never get to experience. It wasn't like he was interested in whipping Carla with a leather strap and engaging in water sports either; he just wanted to try a new position. Or get a blow job.
He'd worked up the courage to ask her for oral sex one time, but she shook her head, curled her lips up in disgust and said "The thought of putting your penis in my mouth is disgusting." Anderson could have argued with her until he was blue in the face, fought his case by citing the number of times he'd gone down on her and noted she didn't exactly taste like candy, but he didn't. He simply nodded and agreed to missionary again, telling himself he should just be happy he was getting sex. After all, it had been three and half months and it sure beat masturbating by himself as he normally did every night while Carla was in the shower.
Anderson finished packing his clothes into the suitcase and zipped it shut. He checked himself in the mirror once, straightening his tie before descending down the staircase with the suitcase in hand. He rounded the corner and entered the kitchen where his wife was standing and waiting.
Carla Walker resembled a mature Marcia Brady. She was about five-foot-six with long straight blonde hair. Her figure was rather boyish and her face was always makeup free. Her breasts were an average B cup, a considerable step up from the AAA she was in high school. Unfortunately though, after her enhancement surgery her nipples had lost all sense of feeling. She told Anderson that touching her nipples felt no different from touching the skin of her arm. It was exactly the same.
Anderson gave Carla's cheek a quick peck and let his hand roam from her upper thigh to her hip, to her waist and back down again.
"I can't wait for tonight," he whispered into her ear. Tonight was a tradeoff of sorts. He was putting up with the opera so Carla would put out afterwards in the hotel suite. "I want you so much." He knew he was pressing his limits when he gently groped her hip and pulled her close, but he couldn't help it. This time it had been five months since their last love making session.
"I don't know, honey," Carla's tone was vague as she pushed his hand away. "I have a headache."
Anderson frowned and ran his fingers through his unruly brown curls. How many "headaches" could one woman possibly get? He considered pointing out that they were headed to an opera and if she truly had a headache that perhaps they should stay home, but as he opened his mouth he was interrupted by a sharp knock at the front door. Carla turned away from him and scurried down the hall to answer it.
She returned to the kitchen with a young girl following behind her. Anderson made a small unintelligible noise at the sight of her. He clutched the kitchen counter as he felt his knees weaken.
The girl was gorgeous. Long reddish brown waves framed the face of a porcelain doll. Her big blue eyes were enhanced by just the right amount of makeup, and her lips were a ravishing shade of cherry red. She had an hourglass shape and she worked it well. Tight dark jeans hugged the curve of her hips and the white long-sleeved tee she wore was entirely transparent, showcasing the black bra she wore, lace and all.
"Andy, honey," Anderson heard Carla's voice, but couldn't find the words to answer. All the blood from his brain was being supplied down to his cock, making it grow. "This is Scarlett Gray," Carla continued. "She lives a few houses down. She's going to watch Lady tonight while we're away."
Anderson nodded lamely, just now noticing the overnight bag in the girl's hands. It wasn't surprising to him that his wife would request someone to baby-sit their pet Pomeranian while they were away. She was practically in love with the animal, sometimes kicking Anderson out of bed in order to give Lady unrestricted access to his pillow.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Walker," Scarlett stepped forward and smiled. "I'll take good care of Lady, I promise."
Anderson nodded again. His eyes raked her body and he couldn't help his tongue from darting out and dragging across his bottom lip. As he did so, he noticed one side of Scarlett's mouth turn up into a lopsided smirk.
"I'm just going to run upstairs and get my coat. I'll be right back," Carla suddenly announced. She placed her hand on Scarlett's shoulder as she exited the kitchen. "Make yourself at home, dear."
Scarlett picked up her overnight bag and hopped up onto the kitchen counter adjacent to where Anderson stood, his fingers still clenched and digging into the countertop. He watched as she spread her legs wide and settled the bag in between.
