Unhappy Anniversary

*** From a request by Walt_13 ***

The white stretch limo made its ponderous way down the road. It was just after 10:30 in the evening on a sultry night in July. Inside the limo lounged an older couple, sipping champagne and deep in animated conversation. They spoke to each other with the easy familiarity that only long association gives. Sheila and Walter were coming home from Polanski's 'Dance of the Vampires.' After a scrumptious seafood dinner at the Sandbar and the requisite after dinner cocktails, of course. Music, a fine meal and a precise measure of alcohol practically guaranteed that Walter's advances would meet with acceptance tonight. His darling wife liked sex, just that he enjoyed it a hell of a lot more often than she decided to let him have it. The entrance to Dawson Park loomed ahead, the white posts lunging out of the darkness. On a whim, Walter tapped on the glass partition between them and the chauffeur.

"Pull over here, driver," Walter said, his alcohol thickened tongue slurring his words. He had taken advantage of the limo's impressive supply of champagne to keep his buzz's edge honed to bludgeon-sharpness. Not so his wife, who drank sparingly and had all of her mental faculties intact.

"What? Why?" Sheila said, confused as to why he wanted to stop here.

The driver didn't bother to question the bizarre order. The limo pulled over to shoulder the road, coming to stop at the twin posts and lintel that demarked the entrance to Dawson Park. The Japanese-inspired gateway looked quite pretty, giving the place a refined air that tickled Walter's fancy.

"I'm in the mood for walking, like we used to do when we were first married."

Sheila looked at him in surprise. "We couldn't afford to rent a car when we were first married, much less a limo."

"So now when we walk it should be by choice and not by necessity."

"You still have the limo for another 45 minutes," the driver interjected smoothly. "You sure you want out?"

"Consider it time off for good behaviour. Here's a tip for your services." Walter slipped the driver $50 through the slightly lowered partition.

"Thanks! I really like driving older folks around. They know how to treat people. Goodnight, sir." The driver looked as if he was about to rub his hands together in glee.

"Goodnight," Walter replied. Sheila only glared at the navy suited driver. Even after the limo turned the corner, Sheila's heated gaze threatened to blister the paint right off of it.

"Older couples indeed," she said with a snort. "Young punk!"

"He meant no harm, baby."

Sheila rubbed her hands over her sizable breasts. "Look at me! Do I look like a candidate for the old folks' home yet?"

"Hmm. Not yet." Walter never could get enough of his shapely wife. She looked particularly sexy this evening dressed in her clingy white dress accented with swarovsky strass studs. Her breasts and hips were decently covered, but her bare belly and navel showed enticingly through the missing left section of the painted on garment. Jazzercise, Aquafit and Yoga kept Sheila supple, shapely and sexy. Her clear Lucite stiletto sandals made an already incredible looking woman look that much more fuckable. Could it really be that they were married for 26 years tonight? They'd been practically children on their wedding night, but the luscious 47 year old before him was no longer a child. Though her sapphire blue eyes still twinkled with a certain mischievousness that stripped decades from her. She had the delightful swells of a mature woman and the legs of a 20-year-old exotic dancer. What a combination! Walter wrapped his hands around his voluptuous wife, enjoying the feel of his woman's shapely ass between his grasping hands as he kissed her deeply. She liked to kiss as much now as she did back then. Some things had never changed between them.

"Walk with me, baby."

"What choice do I have? Our chariot and our asshole driver have departed."

"Hey, I couldn't resist. I couldn't very well fuck my wife with him watching us, could I?"

"Walter!"

"I wanted you all night. Come here." Walter again pulled his wife to him, enjoying the way she molded herself to him. She allowed him his heated kisses and his fingers to worm themselves through her perfectly coiffed brown hair. Her sighs told him that she enjoyed his caresses as much as he did. Oh yes, some things never change!

"Let's just walk for now," she said, pushing her man away with a firm yet playful shove. "Save something for later on tonight."

"You promise, baby?"

"Of course I do."

"You won't fall asleep on me again, will you?"

Sheila's look of indignation could well-serve a priest accused of buggery. "What do you mean? Have I ever?"

"If I answer that honestly will you still sleep with me tonight?"

Sheila smacked Walter on the arm. "Let me give you something to show you how serious I am about tonight."

Sheila waltzed over to the nearest tree, leaning her back against it as she pulled up her skirt, an agonizing inch at a time. As she teased up the tight sheath of a garment, she undulated her ass and hips. She used the same smooth, seductive motions a snake charmer did when he entranced a cobra with his sinuous, swaying movements. Walter felt her magic, his eyes moving in tandem with her lithe body. She held her dress up with one hand as she rolled down her panties, revealing a prettily trimmed pussy, the narrow V pattern shaved to Walter's precise specifications. He was as proud of her pussy as he was of his children. It and his boys were the most important things in his life. He doted on all three. Sheila's inner lips had descended, the puffy, flared flesh a sure sign of her arousal. It wasn't only her husband who had sex on his mind this evening! That was good news for Walter.

"You’re all damp, baby. You should let me take care of your needs right here."

"Maybe I should, but I won't. It's just a little something to whet your appetite. You'll get the main course once we get home."

"You have to give me a little more appetizer than that to keep me satisfied until then."

Sheila stayed put as Walter pressed her body against his own, rubbing his crotch against her bared mound. Her nostrils flared as his bulging crotch grazed against her sensitive nether lips. The rough wool of his slacks felt great as it slid over her most intimate of spaces. Lubrication glazed her sex, spend she undoubtedly smeared all over his dark blue slacks. Somehow, she figured her husband wouldn't mind. When he got into this state he usually cared about nothing except for cracking into her sweet honeypot. His ardour for her always made her feel wanted. Never once had he failed to satisfy her sexually, and he took every opportunity he could to make love to her. Never had he done anything to make her feel unappreciated or unloved. On the contrary, sometimes his constant advances tired her. Today was a special day, and she'd do her best to show interest in him and to satisify his needs.

Walter slid his hand between his wife legs, slipping two fingers inside of her grasping cleft, and wiggling them up inside of her. His thumb pressed against her shrouded clitoris, sending an electric jolt through her that tingled from her nipples to her asshole. When he raised his juice-slickened hand and brought it close to their faces, she got a good whiff of her musky, feminine scent. He grinned widely as his brought his wet fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean.

"I love how sweet you taste. I bet I taste just as good, baby."

Shit! Here it came, the moment she had dreaded. "Oh Walter, not now!"

"Why not now? I've waited 26 years for this. Just this once, won't you even consider it?"

"No."

"Come on, baby. Let me have your mouth."

Walter placed his hands gently upon his wife's shoulders, sliding the straps of her clingy white dress off of her shoulders before pressing down firmly upon her. Sheila descended to her knees as graceful as a dancer would have. Walter's hungry gaze would’ve told her everything she needed to know about his intentions, even if he hadn't already spoken of them. He unzipped his slacks and tugged out his cock, a maneuver aided by his lack of underwear. His cock felt like an iron bar sheathed in satin as he rubbed the bulbous head over her lower lip, mussing her dusty rose lipstick. Salty precome leaked out of his slit, the moisture causing her to lick her lips automatically. A bit of tongue accidentally stroked the very tip of his cockhead, eliciting a sharp moan from him.

"Open up and suck on me," he said, growling deep in his chest.

"No!" She leaped to her feet, gaining her footing unsteadily. Her heels sunk into the grass like needles piercing through flesh. Anger flashed in her eyes and crackled in her voice. Why did he have to pull this shit tonight? "No, Walter!" Sheila turned her back on him and stalked off angrily, her perfectly round derriere shaking as she strutted away. Walter stood with cock in hand, again left wondering why his wife always refused to perform fellatio upon him. She would accept oral from him, though! If she had her way he'd be sucking on her quim from sunup to sundown without taking a break to breathe. Her idea of the perfect man was one with a ten inch tongue and a blowhole on top of his head. He loved his wife dearly, but despised this selfish hangup of hers.

Sheila stopped walking, looking wide-eyed at the trees and shrubbery in the park. She took a step backwards in Walter's direction. He still stood there staring at his wife's delectable, jiggling ass confined in her tight white dress.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Walter said petulantly.

"That noise."

"Yeah. Just a raccoon or something."

"Mighty big raccoon."

"Okay, a deer, then. No big deal," he said, though he did crane his head to the side and listen intently. Sheila searched the face of her 49-year-old husband. His intense hazel eyes glittered in the dim lights of the park. He kept himself trim by doing a lot of walking and some light exercise. There was little fat on him, a testament to healthy living. Not many six foot men could claim to still be 180 pounds when they approached their fiftieth birthday. She'd always felt safe in his presence. Whatever was out there he could handle it. His face looked more curious than worried. She returned to her man, moving as close to him as she could without actually touching him. He snuggled up behind her, peeling up the rear of her tight dress so he could nuzzle his cock between her compressed asscheeks.

"Not now, Walter! I'm really scared!"

"If this is the only way I'll get to touch you tonight, I'm going to take it." Before Sheila could answer him, a loud rustling broke out in the shrubbery.

"Holy shit, what's that?" Those sounds sure as hell weren't from any bloody raccoon. He couldn't imagine a deer making so much racket, either. If anything, it sounded like a bear. Walter took a step back from his wife and tucked his cock back into his pants. If anything was going to happen in the next few seconds he'd be damned if he faced it with his dick hanging out.

All he had wanted was to have a little fun tonight. Why must a nice romantic walk with his lifelong love after supper not end with his anticipated fuck underneath the stars? Instead, he’d found stress and drama. Why did all of his best laid plans always go awry?

§§§

The rustling got louder. A hulk of a person stepped out of the brush lining the pathway and quickly approached the startled couple. Only the motion of the person made him distinguishable from the shadows. His black clothing saw to that. The knee-high leather boots, the belt made of webbing, the leather trench coat, the military fatigues and the T-shirt all looked like solidified night. Not even his clothing could obscure his exceptional physique. A blond pigtail pulled his hair back. He stopped in front of the alarmed couple, smoothing back his hair with the palm of an upraised hand. Only after he performed that gesture did Walter notice that the overdeveloped pectoral muscles actually were female breasts. This close, he could make out her delicate facial features. With a little makeup and care she might have been pretty. However the woman's wide-set eyes and slack jaw marked her as a mental deficient. Walter picked up a stout branch from the ground then pulled Sheila behind him. People taller than his six feet always made him nervous.

"Hello." The single whispered word shocked Walter and Sheila both. They hadn't expected the giantess to speak, much less to whisper.

"Uh, hello," Sheila replied.

"What do you want?" Walter's brusque voice echoed through the park.

"Nice night, isn't it? The park is pretty. Very pretty. I like it."

"Yeah, it's beautiful," Walter said. "Keep walking."

"Why are you here? It's dark." The woman kept her speech low in volume. She whispered as if she feared the sound of her own voice. Walter hated people who whispered when standing right in front of you even more than he did lumbering brutes.

"It's light enough," he replied. Walter and Sheila resumed walking, moving backwards toward the road and the white Japanese Torii. He intended to get back to the bright lights of the street.

"Where are you two going?" the woman asked.

"What's that to you? Get lost!" A touch of hysteria entered Walter's voice, unsettling Sheila. She recognized the sign. If left unchecked, Walter might do something incredibly stupid.

"Walter. She's slow, hon. We're coming home from a show."

"A show? I like the movies. Do you?"

"It's not that kind of show, dear. It's a live show. A musical."

The big woman's face lit up. "Yeah? They sometimes sing in the movies, too."

"Well, this one is more like a play, but it features a lot of singing and dancing."

"Like Moulin Rouge?"

"Yes, dear," Sheila said with a small laugh. "Very much like Moulin Rouge."

"That one made me sad. I cried for the man. He was lonely."

Walter's patience neared the breaking point. "Sheila, what the hell are you up to? Let's get out of here."

Walter clamped his hand around Sheila's slight wrist and dragged her back to the roadway. The blonde wall moved towards him. Walter smacked her across the back of her outstretched hand with his stout branch. The woman wailed like a child spanked by her irate parent.

"Walter!" Sheila yelled.

"That hurts!"

"Stop that! I'm so sorry, um --"

"I'm Georgia!" The woman beamed as she spoke her name, as if it was a great accomplishment to be asked this question.

"Hello, Georgia. I'm Sheila. That's Walter."

"I'm sorry, Sheila. I thought he was hurting you."

"Walter? No, he's just rough and thoughtless sometimes."

"Me, thoughtless?"

"Look. Here's some money. Please take it." Sheila fished a bill out of her iridescent silver and white leather purse.

"That's okay. I don't need it, really."

"I want you to have it. Please?"

Sheila slipped the larger woman a fresh $50 bill. Georgia's strong, calloused hands had clean, trimmed fingernails. Definitely a working person's hands.

"What the hell, Sheila? She scares the shit out of us and then you pay her for the privilege?" Temper filled his voice, displacing his fear with anger.

"I scared you?"

"Yeah you dumb ox! Who wouldn't be after some gargantuan ape crashes out of the shrubbery late at night all dressed in black? You got your money, so beat it!"

"I’d never hurt you, Sheila. Not you." Georgia cut a hard, reproachful glance at Walter, rubbing her bruised hand while doing so. Only a fool wouldn't take the hint. Sometimes, foolish described Walter best.

"Yeah, whatever. Take a hike before I feed you some more of the same." Walter waved his branch in case slack jaw didn't understand him. Georgia's eyes narrowed even more than before.

"Goodbye, Sheila." The warmth of her voice was incongruous when compared to the frost in the gaze she directed at Walter.

"Bye, dear."

Georgia turned and headed back the way she had come, crashing through the brush. Walter and Sheila stood still, straining their ears until they could hear nothing more.

"What the hell's with you? Why did you give her money? Christ, I can't even afford a trench coat like that! What made you think she needed cash?"

"She did need it. Not the money, but the display of kindness. Didn't you see her eyes?"

"What about her eyes?"

"They were so sad, Walter. She seemed almost desperate to speak to us, if only for a little while."

"So what?"

"No one deserves to look that lonely."

What was she going on about? What did she know about loneliness, anyway? They’d been together since high school and had raised two boys. They had many close friends and kept in contact with other members of their family. At Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving their house filled to capacity. Why did she sound as if she didn't know a soul worth knowing?

"Speaking of lonely, why don't we get back to what we were doing before?" Walter waggled his eyebrows in emphasis, already knowing that his lame attempt at levity wouldn’t be well received.

"Walter, please! Let's get home. I'm suddenly tired."

He’d expected this. "Of course you are," he said. He felt weary now, as well.

They walked in absolute silence. Every so often Walter stole glances at his wife. So beautiful, but beautiful in that cold, pristine way that the Arctic tundra was beautiful. At that very moment Sheila was as distant as the moon's surface, even though the full moon looked like he could just reach out and pluck it out of the sky. That was Sheila, as real as a dream and just as ephemeral. He didn't dare touch his wife right now, instead thrusting his hands into his pockets of his slacks. He had a feeling it would be a long walk home.

§§§

It amused Walter to see how a pleasant walk home could feel so dreadful. A perfect evening had been ruined by the appearance of a stranger. He had wanted to do something special for his wedding anniversary. Partaking of a two mile walk home did not qualify. A stroll of less than a mile directly through the park had been almost tripled in distance because of the unexpected detour. Neither one of them wanted to cut through the shadowy trails of Dawson Park any longer, so they took the longer route that circumvented it.

Their route home took them through an old section of their neighborhood littered with once fine homes that had fallen into various states of disrepair. A few of their neighbors, just like themselves, practically killed themselves in a losing battle to maintain the beauty of their properties. A gorgeous three-bedroom estate with meticulously sculpted shrubbery bordered upon a sprawling ramshackle dwelling with an automobile decomposing upon its blotchy tan and olive lawn. In such a place, was it any wonder that the value of the homes rapidly depreciated? Walter and Sheila had been lucky, so far. Their block remained one of the nicest in the area though he didn't know how long it would remain so.

Sheila stopped suddenly, leaning against Walter while she shucked her heels. She did not speak to him, only used him as a convenient post while she pulled off her clear-vamped strappy sandals. Even when angry, Sheila exuded a heady sensuality that always excited Walter. Watching her walk barefoot made his cock throb in his slacks. He loved to play with her feet, to stroke them, to shove the whole front part of her foot into his mouth and suck all five toes simultaneously while he drove his tongue between them. He would knead her calf muscles and stroke her toned thighs. Even now, watching the play of muscles in her well tuned legs as she walked with her natural sashay made him want to pull her to him and take her right here in the street. Of course, he wouldn't do so. He couldn't think of a faster method of marital suicide than that.

Things were getting hard for him at home. He loved his wife as much as ever, but he couldn't deny that dissatisfaction plagued their relationship. Their love life had gone from steamy to tepid in the last decade, her interest in sex waning in the last couple of years. While actually performing sex she seemed very much into it, but getting her to sleep with him required more coaxing as time went by. It hadn't always been so. Walter would much rather grow with his wife than drift apart from her, but she'd need to start working with him. He might be approaching 50, but Walter knew he still looked good. Many a woman in his office liked flirting with him. He knew of three he could nail tomorrow if he wished, but infidelity didn't interest him. Like a wolf, Walter mated for life. He wished to possess Sheila daily, not some cheap fuck slut from the office. But thirsty men often drank from other women’s wells. If she kept him feeling parched he might have to start looking elsewhere for his water.