by Blaise Quin
Published by YRBS
Copyright © 2015 by Blaise Quin and C. C. Morian
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the authors, except in the case of brief quotations included in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for supporting the rights of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
About the authors
Find Out About New Releases
Books by C. C. Morian
Books by C. C. Morian and Blaise Quin
Books by Blaise Quin
Chapter 1
I watched my wife Andie get undressed for bed. I was already under the sheets and had been waiting for her to come to the bedroom for almost an hour. We hadn’t had sex in over three weeks—twenty two days, six hours, to be exact. At first I had joked about it, then had got angry, and then had practically begged.
This morning she had finally relented. A little. She had said ‘maybe.’
So here I was, praying that she’d follow through. I was already rock hard, just thinking about it and looking at her. Her back was to me, she wasn’t doing any kind of strip tease, in fact she was pretty much ignoring me. She reached back to unzip her dress, and after slipping it off, she carefully hung it up. She was wearing a sexy lacy pink bra and panties, neither of which I had seen before. Truth be told, though, I hadn’t seen her in underwear for a while, so maybe I just didn’t know. These days she was asleep before I got to bed, or came in after I was sleeping.
Had she bought them for me?
The very thought of it quickened my breathing. Maybe we were finally going to rekindle our love life. Not that it had been much to begin with, even five years ago when we had met and three years ago when we had been married. Sure, she had always excited me from the minute I had laid eyes on her, a tall, willowy, natural curly-haired blonde, svelte, with the longest legs, slim hips, handful sized boobs, and a round, nicely defined ass. The kind of woman I had always dreamed about, but had never even dated, let alone had sex with.
And to top it off, she was almost fifteen years younger than I was, guaranteeing that she’d look good for a very long time.
And yet, two years after I had met her, we were married. I wondered if she really wasn’t into me, that maybe she wanted me just for my good income and nice house and means of providing. I was just an average looking guy. But I didn’t care. She said all the right things, treated me, my friends, and my family perfectly well, and I was happy as could be. And while I realized that I might not have been the kind of guy a woman like her lusted over, after a time I came to realize that she loved me in her own way.
Andie sat at her dressing table and brushed her hair. With each stroke, her back arched, making me think of what she must look like when making love, what it would look like if I could be suspended above the bed, watching us, watching her wrap her legs around me, her back in a graceful curve. I fantasized about things like this all the time. In my fantasies, Andie would moan and cry out my name, lost in bliss, telling me it was the best she’s ever had.
In real life she did none of that. In the beginning of our relationship things had been better, but they never reached anything that you’d call passionate. She could of course get me off in a matter of minutes; she’d simply use her hands on me, and just the thought of a woman so beautiful stroking my cock would make be blow my load. She had given me head a few times, but had never swallowed, usually just squeezing my cock between her tits until I came on her chest.
I’d try to make her feel good too, although I didn’t always have success. Sometimes I’d lick her until my jaw hurt, but I never could get her to orgasm that way. She claimed to have a problem with lubrication, and so always had to put in some gel before we had intercourse, and then I’d get so turned on that I’d shoot off prematurely, and she’d have to resort to using her fingers or a dildo to get herself off.
Over time our sex became more mechanical, almost like a formula. I would go down on her, savoring her taste, so turned on by the feeling of her thighs against my cheeks and her legs spread for me that I would almost come without her even touching my cock. Then she’d slip her hand between her legs, signaling that my turn was over, and she’d play with her pussy, her eyes closed. I always wondered what she was thinking as she got aroused. Was she thinking of me, fantasizing that I had been able to stay hard, and was inside her?
Or was she thinking of someone else, some nameless, faceless perfect lover?
Other times I would watch her masturbate, touching myself, attempting to hold back, desperately trying to wait, so that I could be inside her, or hoping that she’d put her lips on me. But as I would watch her nipples harden and her breathing quicken and her eyelids flutter I’d lose it, ejaculating wildly, totally overtaken by the very change in the atmosphere created by her sexuality.
Just as I was now. I had to fight to not touch myself as she finished up her hair and turned slightly to get something out of the dresser drawer, giving me a profile look at her wonderful breasts, perfectly sized for her body, not small but not heavy. If they were smaller they would be called perky, but they had that same erect look, jutting out from her tight frame.
Twenty two days, six hours. That’s how long it had been since I had fondled those breasts, sucked on the nipples that were hidden under that bra. My hand strayed to my cock, I couldn’t help it now.
I hoped she’d hurry to bed.
Maybe tonight would be different. The last few months had not been especially good; it was as if our routine was no longer enough for her. More often than not she’d lie rather stiffly, not exactly as if she didn’t want me to do anything, but as if it didn’t matter to her either way. She still got off, or to be precise, still got herself off, but often I felt like it had nothing to do with me.
I had to do something different. Starting with lasting longer. Reluctantly I stopped stroking myself.
“I like your bra,” I said. “Is that new?”
Andie glanced over at me, as if surprised that I was there. “As a matter of fact it is.”
“Any special occasion?” I asked, hoping she’d say it was for me.
“J
ust thought I needed a change. You know, something new.”
“Maybe we could try something new, if that’s what you need,” I said, a little tentatively.
She gave me a half smile. “Oh Peter, you’re so—nice.” Then she turned back to the mirror and began to take off her makeup.
Nice. That’s what Andie thought of me. Not sexy, or someone she couldn’t resist. Nice.
That might have been enough to deflate not only my ego but my hard on as well, but her casual beauty, and the fact that I hadn’t had sex for so long, other than the self induced kind, kept me aroused.
When she finally finished with her routine she undid her bra and tossed it aside. Her back was still to me, but I could see her breasts in the mirror for just an instant. I hoped she was going to come to bed naked, but she reached for her pajamas and slipped them on.
Before getting into bed she turned off the light, as she had started to do a few months ago. The room was plunged into darkness.
“I thought maybe we could leave the light on for a while,” I said.
“I’m kind of tired, dear.”
“I thought maybe, you know, you said this morning. . .” I tried to hide my disappointment.
Andie sighed. “Okay.”
That was it. Okay. Like it was a chore she had to get out of the way.
Now I didn’t know what to do. I wanted her so badly, and she had basically said yes, but she hadn’t moved from her side of the bed. I hesitated just a bit, and maybe I should have said something, this would have been the perfect time to talk about all this, to really get into what was wrong, but I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to risk spoiling what little mood there was, or my opportunity.
I turned toward her, and the mere brushing of the sheets on my cock nearly set me off. I nuzzled close, feeling for her in the darkness, kissing her neck.
“That tickles,” she said, and cringed away.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I should have shaved again.”
“No, that’s all right. Just be careful.”
On pins and needles now, I gingerly reached for her breast. I cupped it in my hand, as gentle as I could be, running my fingers over her nipple. Then I leaned over her, balancing myself on my arm, and put my mouth over her teat, careful not to let my late night stubble scrape her skin.
I suckled on each breast, using my tongue, pulling her nipples into my mouth. As usual I couldn’t get enough of her. I glanced up, hoping to see her head thrown back in ecstasy, but her features were hidden in the dark. Were her eyes closed? Was she thinking of me?
I slid my hands down her body. Her slim thighs were pulled together, giving me no access to her. I gently pushed my fingers between her legs, seeking a way to her pussy. After a while she opened her legs slightly, as if she was reluctant to let me in.
Even with all that, I couldn’t help myself, I was so turned on by her, as always. I kept going.
Now I finally had my fingers on her, exploring the closed folds of her pussy. I continued to suck on her nipples, I knew she liked that, or she used to. My fingers probed, trying to entice her. My hands met only dry skin.
I stopped, at a loss.
For what must have been a whole minute she didn’t say or do anything, and I wondered if she had fallen asleep. Maybe she was really tired. Maybe I was being unfair.
Just as I was about to roll over, she said, “Why did you stop? That was nice.”
Nice. That word again.
“I didn’t think you were in the mood,” I said.
“No, it’s fine. I said I would do it.” She didn’t sound angry, or peeved, just. . .unemotional.
Again I wondered if I should try to talk to her. Maybe this was something better done here in the dark, where we could share our innermost thoughts. I didn’t want Andie to be having sex just because I wanted it. I wanted her to want it just as much as me.
Maybe after we made love. . .then I’d bring it up.
I resumed my stroking, and her body shifted a little, as if she was starting to respond. I increased the pace, searching for that special sensitive spot that had been so elusive for me.
I ducked under the covers and softly licked her mound, then pushed my tongue into her.
But nothing I tried worked. She made a few sounds, but they seemed disconnected from anything I was doing. It was as if she was going through the motions.
Finally Andie pulled me up by the shoulders until I was next to her. “It’s okay. I’m just tired.”
Now I was glad that the light was off, so she couldn’t see my disappointment at not having succeeded in getting her even remotely turned on. I started to roll away toward my side of the bed, but she grabbed my cock and started stroking it.
“I thought you were tired,” I said, as I hardened even more under her fingers.
“You obviously aren’t,” she said. “Besides, it won’t take long for you, will it? And I guess I promised.”
Andie started to stroke me faster, her leg curling over mine. The tip of my cock brushed against her belly, and it made me think of her mouth, wishing it was her tongue instead of just her fingers surrounding the head of my cock.
I reached out for her lips with my mouth, but she turned away a little, so I had to settle for her cheek. Her lips grazed my face, and her tongue touched me briefly, making me groan. Her hand moved faster, and using just her palm she slid my cock up and down against her smooth skin.
Now there was no way I could fuck her or be in her mouth, I’d never make it that far, just the thought and the movement to do it would set me off—
Andie pulled down on my shaft and I grabbed at the sheets as I shot my pent up load over her belly. I had masturbated every day for the last few weeks but even after that I had so much cum in me, so much frustration and waiting built up inside, that I spurted a dozen times onto her.
When I was finished Andie let go of me and slid her hand up my chest, leaving a trail of my cum on me. She gave me a little kiss on the cheek.
“See, that didn’t take long at all,” she said.
Then she turned over and went to sleep.
Chapter 2
That one episode of sex should have sated me for at least a couple of days, but instead it made me even hornier. I had a hard time concentrating at work, thinking of Andie’s hands on me, how fast she could get me aroused. I was frustrated that I couldn’t return the favor to her, and promised myself I’d find a way to get her as interested in me as I was in her. Or at least interested enough to get aroused and have an orgasm now and then that I made happen.
The last thing I wanted was for her to totally give up on sex. Sure, that’s not the only reason why I married her, but I always felt that sex was an important part of a marriage. Though I was relatively young, over time our sex drives might naturally wane, and the day would come when we wouldn’t be able to have sex at all. So now was the time to be having fun.
Before I was married I had a healthy string of girlfriends, and thought I had pretty good sex, although of course I didn’t know what kind of sex other guys had. I didn’t date the most beautiful women, in fact I thought in a lot of cases I was better looking than the guys they had been with before me. I know that sounds sexist and condescending, but I was a little full of myself, and while they were all good women, they just didn’t have the looks that turned men’s heads. Although no one really screamed my name out during sex, I didn’t get any complaints, so I thought I was at least good enough in bed.
Until Andie. Maybe it was because I thought she was so far beyond what I could normally attain with a woman in the looks department. I was probably in awe, or subconsciously feeling unworthy. But any feeling like that should have been long gone by now. I should have learned what she liked. I should know her body.
And from her side, I always had heard that women fall in love and then in lust. Andie is a smart woman, she wouldn’t have married me if it was just a lark. She said she loved me and I believed her.
But I was still waiting for the lu
st.
I remembered Andie’s comment about wanting something new. She was talking about her bra, but maybe there was something else she needed, something new from me. In the bedroom. Did she want me to do something different? Did she want to watch porn? Role play? I just wasn’t sure, and was embarrassed to ask her right out. I just didn’t have the courage.
But I could at least start with the clothes. That very Saturday, the first thing I said to her when she woke up was, “I’d like to buy you some new outfits.”
Andie opened one eye, she was still half asleep. “What did you have in mind?”
Something sexy, I thought. Something you’d wear for me. But I bit my tongue; I didn’t want to suggest that she wasn’t sexy now. “Just something new for you.”
“Would you even know my size?”
Of course I did. I knew her bra size, her underwear size, her dress size, her shoe size. “Why don’t we go together? That way you can try things on.”
For a second Andie looked a little disappointed. Had I missed my opportunity to surprise her with some sassy underwear?
“You’d be able to pick out exactly what you like,” I said.
Andie looked wistful. “Well, I could use a change. Okay, let’s go.”
Andie seemed more excited as we drove to the mall, starting to get into her shopping trip. As soon as we arrived she went into a boutique I had never heard of, and I was immediately relieved that we were doing this together—I would never have walked into this particular store.
She pulled something off a rack and showed it to me, and I nodded appreciatively; it was a dressy but conservative mid length dress. Andie shook her head at my reaction, and I thought, What? Didn’t she want me to like that if she pulled it out?
Andie put the dress back and proceeded to show me half a dozen others, and I wasn’t sure how to react. I tried just smiling, then guessing, then I gave up. “All of them would look great on you.”
