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  made her think of soft folds, pillows of flesh and wet mounds silky to

  the touch.

  She ran upstairs to their bedroom, shut the door and burrowed

  under the covers to finger-fuck her vulva and imagine the things

  Conor would do to her once he came home.

  "Oh, El. Not again." Conor's voice boomeranged over the sheets,

  forcing Ellen out of her cocoon. Her sweetie was home earlier than

  37

  expected. Drat! The environmentally respectful economy car her

  husband purchased recently was silent as a cloud.

  She sprang into his arms, naked as a nymph, twining her arms

  round his neck.

  "Forgive me," she begged.

  "There's nothing to forgive," he murmured, running his hands down

  to the small of her back. "Your hair looks different, though."

  "I got it cut when I was out shopping for scarves."

  "Turn around."

  She did, then pirouetted back to face him.

  "What?"

  "Nothing, it's just uneven." Conor noticed everything.

  "Next time, I'll make an appointment at a real salon. This place had

  a sandwich board which read Walk-Ins Welcome. You don't get a

  Hollywood hairdo at a place like that."

  Conor chuckled then resumed his role as alpha male. "Next time,

  you should talk to me before getting your hair cut; you know I like it

  long. So, that's two strikes against you: naughty self-pleasure and a

  bad hair day. What are we going to do about this?"

  In response to his rhetorical question, she handed him the scarf she

  purchased that day and held out her wrists for him to bind.

  Conor took her chin in his hand and said, "Not so fast. Don't you

  think it's about time you worshipped my cock? I thought I married a

  submissive."

  Ellen looked up into his handsome, gentle face, her eyes swimmy

  with love.

  "Please, let me go down on you," she murmured in her most

  obsequious voice.

  "Well, alright. First the scarf."

  Much to her surprise, Conor used the satin material as a blindfold.

  In the past, he would fuck his wife with her hands tied behind her

  back or take her while her tethered wrists clattered along with the bed

  frame. This was something different. She was unabashedly aroused.

  Conor told her to kneel on the bed. She heard the unzipping of his

  fly, the whoosh of a belt tossed to the floor. When the tip of his penis

  38

  touched her mouth, she parted her lips and licked the head while

  caressing his enticing erection with her warm hands.

  And then, she really went down on him, clutching his haunches

  while her tongue looped round and round until it finally basted the

  root of his shaft.

  She knew how much he loved deep throat and it gave her pleasure

  to give him pleasure. He stroked the back of her head raking his

  fingers through her hair as she continued to worship his cock, inhaling

  as opposed to sucking, giving him the best blow job he had ever

  received in his life.

  When he pulled his cock out of her mouth she instantly felt bereft.

  The end of fellatio left her with a feeling of abandonment the way

  other women experienced tristesse after the act of love. She had, after

  all, made love to his cock and it was a beautiful thing to do. Oh, well.

  There would be other blow jobs.

  "I'm so wet," she giggled. "I should use this scarf to dry myself

  off."

  Conor's voice was low and leveled at her ear. "You're always wet

  when you go down on me. It makes me feel like we were made for

  each other."

  "I want you so bad," El confessed.

  "I can tell." Conor parted her loins, the insides of which were

  completely slick with womanly fluids. She was more turned on than

  she had ever been. He teased her clit with his finger pads, making her

  wiggle with delight.

  "Please fuck me," she begged him. "Please, please fuck me."

  "I will in a minute. Remember, I said there were two strikes

  against you. Your impressive cock worship took care of the first one,

  but you still have some discipline in the offing. I want you to talk to

  me next time before you get your hair cut. You know I like it long.

  Agreed?"

  Ellen gulped. She reached for the blindfold but Conor stayed her

  hand. "Yes, baby," she whispered. "Anything you say."

  39

  "That's a good wife. Now, if you can take a spanking like a good

  sub, I'll reward you with pleasure. I'll pump your pussy with so much

  love you'll have a hard time walking tomorrow."

  Before Ellen could respond, Conor pressed his thumb to the plush

  cushion of her mouth in a time-honored signal that she was not to

  speak again until given permission to do so. She bit her lower lip in

  anticipation.

  She heard a drawer open and close and then she was elevated and

  lowered athwart her husband's lap. When the first spray of talcum

  powder ranged the entire canvas of her bum, she had to clench her

  hands into fists to keep from burrowing them down to her pussy.

  From the first fusillade of thwacks, wetness surged from her vulva,

  creating an immediate cause and effect. He smacked her tush until

  her cheeks pinked just like cotton candy then he parted her loins for

  the grand finale. She loved this part so much, it made her eyes water

  having to keep her mouth shut through the process.

  Still using the talc, he peppered her legs down to the back of her

  knees. She barely had a chance to move before he held her hips in a

  vise grip.

  He electrified the space between her legs with a flurry of slaps until

  he found her sweet spot, the nexus that yielded like silt in his hands.

  It was her left inner thigh, just a palm print away from her pussy and

  he biffed it until it was his.

  Conor and Ellen were never so close as when they entered that tight

  place between pleasure and pain.

  Finally, he swiveled her legs to the side and pressed her into a

  supine position. The scarf still covering her eyes was wet with tears

  of joy mingled with frustration. She needed her lover's cock more

  than anything in the world.

  Conor parted his wife's lips with his thumb. "Now you may speak,

  and after a good spanking, what do you say?"

  "Thank you, darling."

  She felt the tip of his penis probe the dew of her want.

  "How badly do you want me to fuck you right now?"

  40

  She sucked in a breath, every nerve taut with frustration. "Please,

  I'd do anything to feel you deep inside me. Please take me."

  He was the love of her life; he would take her anywhere she wanted

  to go.

  "I love you, Ellen," he murmured before stretching her legs to a V,

  positioning her ankles so they could ride his shoulders. This was the

  best way to fuck her to the hilt; he could slip his hands round to cup

  her buttocks and lift her pelvis so each entry was nothing less than the

  driving force of deep penetration.

  "I love you," he said again, kissing her cheek and brow.

  And oh, how she felt loved as his hardness pushed past her folds

  before reaching her inner core.
Wet as she was, she could appreciate

  the entirety of his erection. Each thrust of his cock introduced her to a

  new level of ecstasy.

  Yes, this is love she thought to herself as she clung to the hardpan

  muscles of his back, while he pumped her pussy until they each

  climaxed sated and full.

  As he removed the blindfold he looked deep into her eyes and she

  saw the best of all possible futures there.

  For as long as she lived, she would do anything to keep this union

  thriving with joy. Even wearing a blindfold she could see Conor was

  the only man who could make her feel so lovely, so wholly and

  completely alive.

  41

  AFTERNOON TRYST

  Edmund sat at his desk, fingers steepled over a circus of paperwork.

  He checked the digital clock over his wall calendar: his wife was

  precisely five minutes late.

  He was getting impatient. And hard. Anticipating what he would

  do to Trudy's vulnerable, naked torso always put his cock on the qui

  vive.

  Today, he would have to spank her for being tardy of course, but

  would he have time to fuck her before his 2:00 appointment with that

  curmudgeonly O'Donnell character?

  He smiled at his own predicament. He had a wife who loved to

  give head and he loved to receive it. Any good tryst requires a plan.

  First, he'd bend her over his desk for a brisk walloping. Then he'd

  command her – before she could act on her own accord – to sink to

  her knees. He enjoyed looking down at Trudy's blond scalp, like a

  bobbing bowl of sunshine, as he cupped the back of her head and

  leaned into the delicious pull of deep throat.

  Yes, after the morning's chock-a-block meetings with zoning

  drones and city council serfs, a blow job would help clear his roll-top

  for sure. After that, maybe he'd take her standing up in the supply

  room or simply have Trudy sit on his cock, twist that sweet pussy of

  hers round and round like a swivel chair with freshly oiled springs.

  His penis jumped, constricting what was already a pop-up tent in

  his trousers. If his sexy woman didn't arrive soon, he'd have to go to

  the men's room and get off.

  He lifted the 5 x 7 photo he kept on his leather-trimmed blotter,

  gazing intently at the image of a beautiful blond. He'd had eyes for no

  one else since he met and married her ten years ago. What they had

  was truly special: never a dull routine.

  Sex games helped. Trudy embraced the role of submissive with

  glee. She relished not knowing what would happen at an assignation

  with her own husband. She only knew that the more she submitted to

  Edmund's will, the greater her own pleasure.

  There was a light tapping at the door, finally.

  42

  "You're here," Edmund breathed huskily.

  Before his wife could respond, he pulled her into his office and

  locked the door. He immediately slipped his hand beneath the

  waistband of her skirt, kissing her fervently on the lips and throat.

  He twirled her round and took a loving appraisal of what would

  always be his. "You look fantastic Tru, as always."

  Trudy touched the row of pearl buttons on her cashmere sweater,

  coquettishly unbuttoning her top just enough to reveal her delectable

  décolletage.

  "Sorry I'm late," she murmured, licking her lips with anticipation.

  Edmund unhooked his belt and swiftly removed his trousers.

  "Sorry is not good enough. You know that. Now, take off your skirt

  and sweater."

  The blond sub did as she was told. She was wearing black bikini

  underwear with no stockings.

  "Bend over for a spanking," her husband said, brusquely. "Grip the

  edge of my desk. Get a good grip because you're in for a paddling."

  "Yes, darling."

  Again, Trudy meekly obeyed, her palms already beginning to

  sweat; she knew what was in store for her bare ass.

  Edmund quickly opened the bottom drawer of a nearby filing

  cabinet and placed a paddle at one corner of his desk.

  With one savage yank he tore off his wife's panties, twisting them

  down past her ankles.

  "Spread your legs so I can get your thighs, too."

  Not a word of protest. Bent over and spread-eagled, she braced

  herself for the inevitable.

  It was unusual for Edmund to employ a paddle; he usually spanked

  her with the flat of his hand. Well, lateness was one of his pet peeves.

  The first few swats were almost pleasant with their swiping

  sensations. Then he hooked an arm over the small of her back, raising

  her toes off the floor in the process. His tool of command – like a

  truncated oar – rained over her backside in a concentrated rhythm.

  43

  It was almost more than she could bear as the rhythm broke and the

  blows scattered pell-mell across her hips and down to her inner thighs

  where her skin was so soft and tender.

  There was a brief focus on her tush again, a volley of thwacks

  directed immediately over the crack of her bum and then the paddle

  was gone.

  Edmund was twisting his elegant fingers through her tresses,

  grabbing his wife by the hair so she could gaze directly at his

  determined face.

  "Now, you're going to thank me for that spanking by sucking my

  cock. You're going to give me the best deep throat ever. I want

  everything you can give me. If I get the sense you're holding back,

  and believe me, I'll know ... you can anticipate more discipline.

  Understood?"

  Trudy blinked with relief. She relished any opportunity to prove

  herself worthy.

  Edmund tossed his chambray shirt on the ottoman he purchased for

  this specific purpose. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing he could

  lure Trudy to his office with nothing more than his cock as bait.

  There were times when he'd call her at home (she was self-employed

  and hence, always malleable in terms of schedule) and say, "Come to

  my office: now." In a very short time, she'd arrive, suck him off and

  be on her merry way. Given how much she truly enjoyed pampering

  his penis, it seemed like a fair arrangement.

  She plopped down at his feet, eager to please.

  "Start at the tip," he instructed. Sometimes she liked to plant kisses

  along the length of his shaft down to his scrotum but today her lover

  was obviously intent on full-throttle motion.

  She leveled her lips loosely at the crest, letting her tongue lap and

  lick repeatedly giving the desired effect of panting for head.

  Edmund placed his palm at the nape of her neck and that's when she

  took him down whole. She never did hold anything back, not once.

  She lived to love him; that's why she was curled in his lap on a

  weekday, plunging his cock down her throat until a close-up of his

  groin was all she could see.

  44

  "Yes, baby, keep going. Make love to your man's cock."

  She anchored her mouth at the base of his erection wanting nothing

  more than to be marooned on this island.

  Edmund unsnapped his wife's bra. As he cupped her breasts and

  stroked her areolae, Trudy took some long, languid pulls on
his cock,

  grabbing the side of his leg to help with traction. She would give him

  deep throat until he exploded in fireworks of satisfaction.

  He wasn't ready to come, not yet. He wanted to fuck her back ten

  years to the day they met, fuck her to the moon, even.

  Reluctantly, he pulled away from her luscious mouth.

  "You're really good at that," he said, stroking the side of her face.

  "I don't want to stop."

  Suddenly, he stood. "I think I should fuck you."

  He reached between her legs and probed the infinite wetness he

  found there.

  "Yes, I should definitely fuck you. The way that feels best for both

  of us."

  Trudy got down on all fours and once again, she was clinging to the

  edge of a piece of furniture.

  Edmund pinched and squeezed her derriere, each buttock still a

  light pink from the spanking.

  "Trudy," he whispered, almost to himself. "Trudy, my love."

  Overtaken with lust, he pushed right in, pumping hard from the

  start. Ten years of marriage and her pussy was still a drawn curtain,

  her tight wet folds opening only for him.

  He was so turned on; he didn't know how long he could hang on.

  He tugged her hair back so he could speak in her ear. He was

  gripping her mane so tightly, her scalp tingled.

  "I don't want to come yet," he said. "I want you there on all fours

  thinking about what it's like to get fucked right now. Let my cock

  inform every cell of your body you belong to me."

  He let his hands range over her breasts and belly before releasing

  her scalp. His cock moved incrementally at a maddeningly slow pace,

  until Trudy thought she'd cry. She wanted to be ridden not saddled

  and stalled.

  45

  Enough with the teasing, Edmund thought, securing her hips with

  all the strength in his hands, thrusting to the hilt, pumping her with

  every bit of his love.

  "Oh, Edmund." After they had both climaxed, Trudy straddled her

  husband's lap and kissed his sweet, handsome face. His thick black

  hair needed a comb. "Guess I should let you get back to work."

  No sooner had she said that, a rapping at the door startled them out

  of their reverie.

  "Mr. Toole? Your 2:00 arrived early. What shall I tell him?" Edna

  Graves had been Edmund's receptionist for fifteen years. She hoped