Doctor's Orders

Advisory: If you must read story codes, they are included at the end of this story. It is the author's opinion that this story is more satisfying if read without expectations.

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The steam hung in the bathroom, but the hot water from the shower had long since cooled to lukewarm. Steven's thoughts were elsewhere, as he tightened the grip on his cock, bringing it to its full 6" length. He had that sense of energy that follows the tiredness from hard work, and the sweat and dirt from mowing the lawn had long since been washed from his body. The bathing forgotten, it was the hardness of his cock in his hand that captured his complete attention, as he soaped and lathered it, stroking repeatedly. His balls hung loosely as they swayed back and forth, occasionally hitting against his hand.

He wasn't thinking of anything particular, but just enjoying the time alone, comfortable with the thoughts of how satisfying sex had been lately with his wife. He felt the familiar stirrings within balls, and slowed his pace somewhat, enjoying the ride along the edge that precedes orgasm. He replaced the bar of soap in the tray, and tried using his right hand to stroke himself. Steven was right handed, but for whatever reason, his left hand did that particular job the best. It wasn't long before he was coming down from his sensual high, and, really, he hadn't planned on cumming in the shower, anyway. He didn't want to have to clean it up or explain any sticky remains to his wife. Hayley. His wife!

Thoughts of her quickly restored his cock to its full size. Brunette, blue eyes, 37 years old, maybe 125 lbs. Perfect tits. They hung only a little lower than when they had first married 15 years earlier, and they had grown two inches. 38 C's. Perfect. Looking down, there was one sizeable drop of pre-cum perched on the slit of his cock, and he cleaned it off with the tip of his finger before the shower could wash it away. The drop of pre-cum he savored on his tongue. Why? Because he liked it. As he did this, he caught himself on the edge of cumming, and abruptly stopped the furious stroking of his cock...just in time.

Knowing that dinner would soon be ready, he turned off the water and opened the shower curtain. He had just an instant to recognize that his wife, clothed, was kneeling on the floor at the edge of the tub. Her hands shot out and grabbed his cock, pulling him into her mouth. His wife had never particularly enjoyed giving blowjobs, and as far as he could remember, hadn't let him cum in her mouth since before they were married. That was likely to change. She devoured his cock, sucking it so fiercely that he had to step out of the wet tub to keep his balance. She moved with him, using one hand to pull the skin of his cock toward the base, with the tightest of grips. The head of his cock swelled purple and massive as her mouth again descended on it, her head bobbing furiously as she alternately sucked and licked it. Her eyes never left his as she ravished his cock, the picture of pure submission.

Just as he knew she had to be surprised to find him with a hard cock just after a shower, he was also sure she didn't know that he had a load of cum "cocked and locked" before she even touched him. His body tightened as he fought to control his orgasm, but she sensed it, too. Both of her hands reached around and clenched his ass, pulling his balls deep into her mouth. After less than a minute of what was otherwise the perfect blowjob, he unloaded. Spurt after spurt kept shooting the short distance to the back of her mouth. And still her blue eyes looked up at him, pleading to please in their way.

He could see cum escape her lips, dripping down her chin and onto her blouse as the last of his orgasm subsided. As she pulled her mouth away, she licked her lips before extending her tongue to wipe the cum off the head of his cock. Steven could see the gooey whiteness of his cum on her tongue and teeth as she continued to bathe his cock. She licked her fingers, wiped her chin, and then licked them again. Then, she stood, and, in a casual manner, as if she was telling him the forecast had a 30% chance of rain, she said, "Dinner's ready." Her breath carried the powerful scent of his cum, making his senses reel. She turned and let herself out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Unreal.

What was going on? And who was this stranger that looked like his wife?

When Hayley returned to the kitchen, she decided that battling herself was pointless. She had a need to cum and, therefore, would. Steven would be at least a few minutes, anyway. She moved quickly to their den and sank into their couch. She raised her skirt, and she felt the heat of her body quickly remove the coolness of the leather couch. She felt...wanton. And she had been. She reached between her legs and began rubbing her clit. If Steven came down the steps and saw her, he would find his wife giving him a perfect view of her cunt. She didn't really want Steven to find her this way, but the naughtiness of it, and of what she had just done with Steven, gave her all the imaginative fantasy... But it wasn't fantasy. She had actually done it. Remembering the sight of his swollen cock, and the velvety feel of his cock in her hand, against her tongue, in her cheeks, and finally filling her mouth to her throat, she gave herself over to her climax, cumming with loud moans. Her desires hoped he would hear her, find her spread and fuck her; her shyness hoped that the orgasm would quickly diminish in time for her to straighten herself up.

She managed to stifle her moans as her orgasm finished its convulsing, and, catching her breath, she climbed off the couch. She went to the kitchen to grab a paper towel to wipe up the wetness she had left behind. So much wetness for so short a time. She returned to the kitchen and was about to use the ladle to scoop out stew that had been cooking in the crock-pot all day, when she realized that she hadn't really cleaned her hand. She wiped her gooey hand and fingers on the edge of a bowl. That would be Steven's bowl. She couldn't help but grin. And now that she was returning to her senses, the wetness of her cunt was giving her chills because of the air-conditioning. She wasn't wearing panties, but for the life of her, she couldn't think why not. She had planned on the blowjob, and Steven wouldn't recover fast enough to give her a good fuck. What had she been thinking? She raised her skirt slightly and raked a couple of fingers across her cunt, scooping her fluids. She wiped her fingers on Steven's bowl. Damn! She was wet. She scooped again, and again, until she was more or less dry.

Most of her juices had gathered in a small pool at the bottom of the bowl, but were otherwise stuck on the downslope of the bowl. She emptied a ladle of stew into it, obscuring what she knew was mixing with his dinner. Screw him if he can't take a joke, she thought. He'll probably never taste it anyway. She placed their bowls and drinks on the table and went to the bathroom to check herself.

Some of Steven's cum had dried on her chin, and she saw that some was on her blouse. She was about to wash up when she felt a sense of wrongness about it. What seemed right was to leave it as it was, tantalizing Steven through dinner and beyond. A grin again spread across her lips, and a wonderful sense of fulfillment washed over her.

Although she felt good physically of late, she had developed a concern that she wasn't pleasing Steven sexually. She fairly frequently had assorted sinus infections, back and neck pain, and just general aches that seemed to reduce her interest in physical intimacy. But for the last few months, she only had some minor neck or back pains, and even that occurred on rare days. She loved Steven, and with her body feeling good, he had to know that she loved him. To have and to hold, that was the vow.

The love was there. The commitment was there. But something nagged at her, telling her that she needed to prove herself sexually to him, to be the aggressor, the experimenter, the temptress. She wondered where all these ideas for sex had been hiding, because for the past 15 years, love-making just occurred...naturally...in its own time. It was rare that she fantasized about anything. She did enjoy romance novels, but she never actually fantasized about Steven. Anything other than watching his cock spurt cum onto her breasts. That was still her favorite. Oh yes. She heard Steven descending the stairs, so she quickly rubbed yet more fluids from her cunt, then hurriedly wiped it off on her napkin, except just a little "bit" on Steven's spoon. She gave him a nice smile as he entered.

Steven was driving to work the following morning, a grin his face, where it had been stuck for weeks, it seemed. The visual images of the perfect blowjob the previous evening and of his cum leaking from Hayley's lips, which were wrapped around his cock... He had to stop thinking about that. It was unsafe to drive with one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing his rock hard cock through his slacks. Still, he marveled at it, now certain that, yes, that was only the second "complete" blowjob she had ever given him. And then to have to eat dinner seeing small globs of white cum drying on her black blouse...and those bits on her cheek and chin... It was more than he could take. Still, it didn't limit his shock when, after finishing dinner, she had stood up, dropped her skirt, bent over the dinner table, spread her legs and said, "Don't ask. I just need to be fucked, right here, right now!" As he stood behind her, removing his shorts, she had reached between her legs, parting her cunt lips, moist - no - wet, forming the perfect invitation. He couldn't think of Hayley ever having offered her cunt so brazenly. His cock had been kind to both of them, and he was able to watch for what seemed like forever as he slid in and out of his wife's cunt, before shooting whatever jism remained into her.

Dammit! He felt his balls tighten, and he came in his pants. At the next light, he looked for napkins in the glove compartment and couldn't find any. And, it was still a 30-minute commute to the office. He thought that surely there couldn't be much cum left over after last night, but the wetness in his pants didn't reassure him.

What WAS going on? Only a couple of months ago, he was happy to get a nice feel of one of her tits without getting snarled at. Why couldn't he just jump into this slice of heaven that she was presenting him? Everything felt right...but something felt wrong. It didn't make any sense. Anything other than vanilla "making love" had always been left to him to initiate, and always with the possibility that she wouldn't be interested. Why the change? He had to think.

For the past 6 weeks or so, her desires had been more frequent and much more imaginative. It had begun with little changes. Sex on the couch. Sex on the floor. A slow grind of his cock with her hand under a restaurant table, a night out without a bra. She had been willing to do these things before, but it was never her idea to it. But it was more than that; she was getting clever about it.

As he thought back, he hadn't even noticed that she wasn't wearing the bra that evening, because it had always been safe to assume that she was, particularly if wearing dresses or anything at all that revealed her form. She was always so shy about revealing her figure, and particularly wearing anything tight on her chest. She had let him know that she wasn't wearing a bra as she was getting into their van, after dinner, in a crowded parking lot. For once, he had acted the gentleman and opened the door for her. She had sat, with her feet on the door well, and making a pained face and twisting in some sort of discomfort said, "There's something in my shirt." With the door still open, she raised her blouse, slowly, to expose one of her 38 C's, the nipple hardening quickly. She grasped under her breast raising it, looking down at it, and then pinched her nipple, rolling it briefly between her fingers. "Oh, that's all it is."

She had winked at him, turned forward in her seat, fastened her seat belt, and only then did she lower her blouse back into place. He was faced with walking around the car with an obviously stiff cock in his pants, capturing the eye of a lady who had just parked her car. This type of exhibition just didn't happen with his wife, and especially in daylight in an area with people around. His previous requests for quick flashes were always greeted by a deep sigh, followed by a "if I have to" roll of the eyes and the briefest of glimpses of a breast. He loved her breasts. He wouldn't stop asking.

Before they were married, Hayley had a spirit of adventure, or at least, a nympho's desire for a cock within her cunt at every available chance, which was still limited due to a long distance weekend romance. He could remember sex on the roof of a dorm in college, in a lobby of a locked building that they had sneaked into, on her parent's den floor while her parents were asleep, in a car on the side of a road, on the roof of a downtown hotel, in a motel room when four friends were sleeping, on the beach in the afternoon, in a golf fairway at night... It didn't surprise him that sex in married life would become less frequent, or that their likes and dislikes would settle into more or less a permanent, less exciting, compromise. But it did surprise him now that, after all these years, she seemed to be getting spontaneity back. Again, why? He arrived at the office, and after a brief detour to the restroom, began thinking on other matters.

It seemed to Hayley that since mid-morning, all she could think about was "5:30." That was when Steven would be home from work. It had been about a week since her last surprise, and although they had made love once during the weekend, her doubts about her sexual inadequacy were rising again. At 4:30, she took a bath. A long, luxurious one. Scented bath oil. A candle on the edge of the tub. "5:30" crossed her mind. She checked the clock. No, not yet. She re-read her favorite Romance novel, a wickedly sensuous story in which a young woman is captured by a muscular pirating Viking, who rapes her for weeks following his conquest, then falls in love with her battling spirit. And she for him. She fingered her clit. She imagined how horrible it would be to be captured, and taken like that. The thought of "5:30" awakened her from her dreamy masturbations. It was now 5:10, and the water had cooled. She got out of the tub, toweled herself dry, brushed her hair, and sprayed herself with just a hint of perfume on her neck.

She went downstairs, removed the vacuum cleaner from its closet, plugged it in, and waited by the window to watch for Steven returning home. She was sure this would please him.

He entered the house, admittedly thinking about sex. Steven was thinking all had returned to normal, as the weekend's sex had been "ordinary," in their bed, but very loving, very satisfying. He parked the car in the garage, entered the kitchen and heard vacuuming from the Den. He turned the corner and found Hayley vacuuming the den, naked. Only once before had she done housework naked, and that was just topless. The air-conditioner had broken and it had been hot in the house. The air-conditioner was working now... And yet, here she was... The noise from the vacuum meant that she probably hadn't heard either the garage door opener or the kitchen door, and he was able to watch from behind as her breasts gently swung with the sweeping motions that she made. Her back was slightly bent so that the fullness of her breasts jiggled in a way that made his cock instantly hard and uncomfortable in his pants. She leaned over to pick something off the floor, and he could see her wispy cunt hair between her legs, visible clearly against the light coming in from the den window.

He retreated into the kitchen slightly, so that she wouldn't see him. After he quickly shed his clothes, he raced to her from behind. With his left hand, he seized her dangling breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers, finding the nipple already stiff. At the same time, his right hand reached around her waist and found her cunt with his fingers. She was wet. She gave a startled jump, dropped the vacuum cleaner, and leaned forward, placing her hands on the window sill, arching her ass in invitation. She hadn't even looked to make sure it was him. As he placed his hands on her pelvis, he saw that she had written, somehow, the words "FUCK ME" on her ass in red ink. He rammed his cock home, his hands still on her pelvis, pulling her against him with each thrust. And even as the pleasure within his cock fought coherent thought, he wondered what had made her so wet. Vacuuming in the nude? No. Being nude in front of the window where others could see? Maybe. Probably not. It would be unlikely that anyone would see her. Her panting turned into moans, becoming short screams, her whole body bucking against him, crying out a desire for passion. With the smacking sounds of his balls slapping against her ass and a slight reflection in the window of her breasts swinging savagely in time with each thrust, he felt his cock swell to a rare fullness. It was a fullness that he knew she had to feel stretching her cunt lips, because the tightness and the furnace that was her cunt gave him no choice but to shoot his load.

She wasn't done with him. She pushed him onto the floor, and somehow his cock remained stiff enough for her to sit atop him and grind her cunt into him. She tantalized him with her breasts, lowering them to his lips and then pulling away just as he was about to capture them with his mouth. She knew her breasts were the tools that could keep him hard as a rock. She finally raised herself on her legs, squatted over him, slamming herself down on his cock repeatedly, which gave him a great view of his cock piercing his lovely wife. As she began her orgasm, he could feel their fluids run down his cock and between his legs. She finally placed her fingers at her clit and brought herself off to a climax that ended with a throaty "yeeeeesSSSS!" that sounded like it had waited ages to emerge. He came again, just as her leg strength gave out and she fell across his chest. His cock slipped from between her legs, and after no more than a minute, she rose to turn the vacuum cleaner off, and she went up the stairs. It was the best way possible to come home from work, but he hoped, maybe, they could actually share a kiss later.

In the bathroom, Hayley felt that she was, truly, the best wife in the world. How could any woman please her man more? She had been provocative and surprising, and it was downright fun! It had seemed that she was out of her mind, unable to think, as her body responded to Steven's cock spreading her sensitive areas, pistoning within her as she was "taken" by "her" unseen man. Her body was satiated, her mind satisfied that "5:30" had been worth the wait. She was absently staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, when she began to focus on her body. Maybe her right breast hung a little lower than the other, but she was pleased with her luminous skin. She marveled at all the pink flushes in her skin, the redness of her swollen cunt lips. She turned, watching, and... What? How - WHEN - had Steven managed to write THAT there?

He was thankful, yes. But now the suspicions wouldn't go away. He couldn't admit to himself that she was having an affair, but the seemingly weekly regularity of this sexual lioness invited all kinds of unsettling thoughts.

A few days later, Hayley went off to run some errands, so he used the time to search around the house for any clues as to what might have ignited her libido. He searched under the bathroom sink, through her closet, her desk, and her bedside table. He booted her computer and checked her e-mails, documents and any other place that might provide a clue. He didn't know what he was looking for, and he didn't find it. X-rated videotapes, letters from an admirer, appointments on her calendar...nothing. He decided to start recording these "events" on his own calendar, hoping they would continue, but fearing a pattern would emerge.