"I don't know, Minnie, it's just so damnably frustrating," said Isabel.
"Izzy, count your blessings. Your last husband, Hollis Cort, beat you up—regularly!—and that the whole one and a half years you were married to the asshole," said Minnie. "The way I see it, you've got no gripe. So what if Irv is kind of a pussy. He works, pays the bills, and treats you pretty good as far as John and I can see."
"Yes, he pays the bills—barely. But, he's been passed over for promotion at least three times that I know of because he refuses to do what he has to do to get one, a promotion that is, and he could get one. Keeps saying he's going to but never does. Hell, I make as much working for MacDonald's as he does selling software for Ritter. The good news is that I do get to keep my money or most of it since he does in fact pay the bills. So yes, okay, you're right, I guess I shouldn't complain too loudly, at least not for the time being," said Isabel, but plaintively.
"Izzzzyyyyy, are you saying what I think you're saying?" said Minnie. "You're not thinking of divorcing that good man for that part time lover of yours are you? I mean mister big shot who isn't a big shot but thinks he is that is to say?
"Let me ask you. How long has it been since you and Irv have done the deed?" said Minnie. Isabel Davis nee Porter, had the decency to look as guilty as she felt.
"A while, I guess," said Izzy.
"A while? How long is a while?" said Minnie.
"A couple of months maybe; I don't exactly keep a journal you know," said Isabel. Her friend had fire in her eyes.
"You idiot!" said Minnie. "A man can't go months without getting any. A man, any man, needs it pretty nearly all of the time. You've only been married for what—four years?"
"Yes, about that. Four years next month," said Izzy.
"Yeah, I know, I was your maid of honor. So what? You plan to let him have you as an anniversary present! I'll say it again, you're an idiot!" said Minnie.
"No, it's not like that," said Isabel.
"Oh, then what's it like? Let me see, you've been denying him the undeniable. You hold him in contempt. You've got a lover on the side. So, yes, tell me, what's it like?"
"Oh I don't know! Frankly, he just doesn't turn me on anymore. I mean he's a good guy in some ways. And, yes, I do feel guilty keeping Hardin Karpis on the side. And I do feel guilty having to fake pleasure when Irv and I do do it. But..."
"But nothing. You need to get your act together, baby doll. You need to fuck your husband tonight, and he better not get the idea that you're faking it. If you don't get your act together muy pronto, girl, you're going to lose that man. And, I can guarantee your skinny pink ass that somebody else will be picking him up not all that long thereafter!" said Minnie. Her friend sighed.
"I suppose you're right, Minnie. I guess that I, he and I, have just been kinda goin' through the motions these past months. Anyway, I'll be thinking about what you said. He does deserve better I suppose. If he just wasn't such a wimp! He needs to man up, and be the guy I know he can be or thought he could be—or—or something," said Isabel.
"Yeah right! Listen girlfriend, you're the woman. It's your job to train the guy. So do so!" said Minnie. Her friend nodded, but it was a nod of resignation.
I took a deep breath. She was in the kitchen. I'd finally decided to lay it on her. I knew she would probably be mad at me.
I hung up my coat and set my briefcase down on the coffee table. I headed into Dante's Inferno.
"Hi hon," she said. "How was work?" Her good mood stopped me.
"Uh—good. Sold some stuff. So, good. How was your day?" I said, following her lead.
"Also, good. Got off at noon. Minnie came by, and we gossiped a while," she said.
"All nasty and graphic stuff, I hope," I said, now in a good mood myself and pushing it. She snickered.
"Yes, all nasty and graphic. Minnie did say that I need to fuck you more, says I've been neglecting you," said my wife. My look got a smirk from her.
"Really? I knew I liked that woman," I said.
"Yes, well tonight I'm going to drain your ball sack and leave your penis begging for mercy. Seem like something you could get into?" She said.
"Uh—yeah—I can go for that—get into it," I said, "no problem at all."
Dinner was good and mostly on the quiet side. Dishes done and dried—I did the drying—we stood and kinda stared at each other. She smiled.
"Well," she said.
I went to her and kissed her gently on the lips. "Let's go into the living room. I want to take you on the couch," I said, not quite rubbing my palms together. She smiled yet again and did as I asked.
I led her to the couch and knelt in front of her as she remained standing. I let my hand reach around behind her and cup her buttocks. I pulled her, still dressed in her skirt and blouse, to me and sniffed at the depression where her mound lay still hidden from view. I heard her stifle a giggle.
I lifted her skirt and saw that her white panties were damp in front. I kissed them and inserted my thumbs into their waistline. I eased them down to her ankles. She stepped out of them kicking off the black flats she'd been wearing in the process.
I stood and turned her around. I leaned into her pressing the hardness of my cock against the fabric of her skirt. I coaxed her to a kneeling position on the couch and dropped my pants and underpants kicking them and my shoes off and to the side. My cock stuck straight out from me threatening to spear her from behind.
I lifted her skirt and flipped it up onto her back.
"Spread wide for me, honey," I said. She did and arched her back inviting my invasion of her pussy.
I knelt once more, but this time behind her exposed slit. I sniffed her woman scent. I licked and kissed her pussy and her anus. I sucked on her clit my nose rubbing against her sphincter and was rewarded with mooing sounds that I was sure were genuine. As to that, I had in recent times suspected her of faking interest when we did do it, but I was pretty sure, that for the moment, her interest was the real McCoy.
I stood and slid into her. God, she felt wonderful. I drilled her for some minutes doing my damnedest to not cum too soon. I wanted more than anything for her to make it. I felt her stiffen and shudder; she had made it. I was sure of it. I began ramming her for all I was worth trying to bring her off a second time as I unloaded inside of her.
I sagged forward across her back as she in turn sagged onto the cushions of the couch. I'd unloaded a goodly cum into her. Her? No, she hadn't made it the second time. I let myself roll off to the side, legs splayed obscenely I was sure, but caring not a whit.
"Was it good for you, hon?" she said. I turned to her. There was something odd about her tone. I was sure she'd made it once, but...
"Yes, Of course," I said. "You?"
"The best," she said. "We'll be doing this more often. No more neglecting you. I promise."
Something was wrong. She was—something—too businesslike maybe. Kinda like a prostitute that, having done what she'd been paid to do, turned her attention, her focus, to other things, like needing to get ready for the next client. Me? I was barely getting my breath back. It was clear, in any event, that she wasn't thinking about how it was for her, no, she was concerned about me. She was bored, but at least mildly concerned about me!
I was now remembering what I had determined to do before I got home when she'd short shanked me with her offer of sex and goodwill. Why had she been in such a good and giving mood? Maybe it really was because of something Minnie Fowler had said to her earlier in the day. Well, we'd be talking now for sure, but not tonight. Tomorrow we would do the sit down thing. For the moment I was going to have to pretend that everything was peachy, I was too tired to be an effective inquisitor, but tomorrow, tomorrow would be the day.
Oatmeal again, well it was good for the waistline, or so she regularly assured me. I sat with my coffee across from her. It was Thursday, her day off from Mac's. She seemed in a good mood; no doubt feeling good about successfully fulfilling her "duty." I had to think that her feeling so might be short lived. This time there would be no dodging the subject. I wanted to know what was going on, and I wanted to be more than sure that whatever it was, was history.
"Feel good this morning, honey?" she said, setting her cup down in front of her.
I took a sip of my coffee. "Hmm, I guess we'll know about that shortly," I said, at last.
"Hmm?" she said, still smiling.
"Last night. It was great for me. I mean 'if' it was for you too?" I said, clarifying things.
"Well of course it was good for me," she said. She forced a smile that was so phony, I couldn't help it, I laughed.
"What?" she said.
"You didn't cum did you, I mean even the first time. It wasn't all that good for you was it; really. You didn't even enjoy it, doing it with me, did you?' I said.
Her expression suddenly morphed from pseudo-smiley to serious.
"What's going on, Izzy? What's going on! Until last night we hadn't done it in almost three months. And last night, well, it was like you realized how long it had been and decided to maybe, what, make amends, do your duty. Right?
"Minnie really did advise you to fix things between us didn't she? Please, the straight of it. Whaddya say?" She dropped back into her seat. She almost seemed relieved. Yes, relieved, relieved that I'd caught her.
.... There is more of this story ...