Flight of the Wild Goose

by VirtualAtheist

Copyright© 2016 by VirtualAtheist

Romantic Sex Story: Donald struggles to reclaim his life and his wife.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Oral Sex   Slow   Transformation   .

It was Friday. Donald looked out of his office window and sighed. He could see a wild goose sitting on the grass by the building opposite. "Not many of those 'round here," he thought to himself.

He continued to watch as the goose slowly flapped its wings and took off. Donald considered it curious how a bird so ungainly on the ground, with its undignified waddle and comical honk, could be so transformed when it rose into the air. The long neck stretched out in front of it and the spread wings now showed their grace and power, thrusting the heavy bird up through the atmosphere and away. The honk, once comical was now a cry of unbounded joy. It was a shout of freedom and Donald really envied it.

His eyes lowered back to his desk and he continued working through the contract, making notes and using a hi-lighter to mark important passages. Eventually it was five 'o'clock and he started to clear his desk.

Suddenly his boss, Mr. Jamison, walked into the room making Donald jump slightly, "Have you finished with the El-Com contract yet?"

"Actually no, Mr. Jamison. I was going to finish it off on Monday."

"Sorry, no can do, old son. The timetable's been brought forward, I'm afraid. You are going to have to put extra hours in on this one. I'll need it on my desk first thing Monday morning. It'll have to be a late night, or over the weekend, but I need it on my desk by the deadline without fail. Look, I really am sorry old china, but sometimes we all have to make sacrifices," he glanced at his watch and continued, "Lordy, is that the time? Must dash, I have guests tonight."

The last sentence was thrown at Donald over a rapidly retreating shoulder. Donald was unsurprised at this turn of events as it happened quite often. He sighed again and sat back down to work.

It was about eight thirty in the evening when he finally got home. Donald stood outside his house and looked at it. He could make out the flicker light from the television as it danced on the living room wall. Janice would be sat there, he thought to himself, glued to the television set watching all the soaps that she was so addicted to.

Donald entered his house and walked into the living room. His wife sat on the sofa with her legs tucked underneath her. There was a half finished box of chocolates and a glass of red wine on the low table next to her. "I'm home darling," he said and kissed her on the cheek.

Janice's eyes never left the television as she answered distantly, "Hello dear, your dinner's in the oven."

He looked at Janice as she selected another chocolate and popped it into her mouth. He had an idea, "Darling, why don't we go away for the weekend? We could go to the coast like we used to." She half turned to him and asked, "Sorry dear, what did you say?"

"I said why don't we go away this weekend? I feel the need to blow away some cobwebs and the seaside air might be just what we need."

Janice's attention went back to the television and she answered distractedly, "Donald, we can't. Not this weekend. I promised Lydia that we would help with the Fete. You know she depends on us."

"Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot." Donald retreated to the kitchen and removed his now dried up dinner from the oven. Dejected, he sat at the table and began to eat. He felt trapped. The call of the wild goose had reminded him of the freedom he and Janice had shared. The carefree way they had just ... just ... done things. They would go away to remote parts of the coast or the countryside and walk and talk.

Or not talk and just enjoy their surroundings. On occasion they had thrown caution to the wind and made love amongst the sand dunes, revelling in the danger of being caught. But married life had crowded in on them, stifling them. Obligations needed to be met, people relied on them. The Mr. Jamisons and the Lydias of the world felt no compunction about monopolising their time. Taking huge pieces out of their lives until they had none left for each other, and he hated it. He loved his wife, but they were growing apart. He had to do something. He had to recapture his life from the leeches that took everything and still wanted more.

When he was finished, he returned to the sitting room, where Janice had not moved from her place on the sofa. Donald sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. He put his hand to her chin and turned her face towards his own. Donald kissed his wife. She was a touch surprised by his action and said, "What was that for?"

"Because I love you."

"That's nice, dear."

He moved forward to kiss her again but she had already turned back to the television. He tried to move her head back again, but she shook his hand away and snapped, "Donald, please. I want to watch this."

He sat back, stung, "I sometimes think you love the telly more than me."


"Oh, nothing. I'm going to bed."

As he left the room and headed up the stairs, he had looked back over his shoulder. Janice murmured, "Night night, dear. I'll be up when this has finished," but her attention remained on the television. When she finally slipped into their bed, Donald was already asleep.

The next morning when Donald woke up, the bed next to him was empty. He got up and, after a quick wash and shave, joined his wife in the kitchen where she was washing up.

He snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist; Donald kissed her cheek, "Good morning, Beautiful." Janice was surprised, this wasn't like her husband. "Morning, dear," she answered, "I'll get your breakfast when I've done the washing up."

"Oh, forget breakfast, I have a better idea," he slid his hands up her torso, cupped her breasts with his hands and kissed her cheek more firmly.

"Donald! What are you doing?"

"Just remembered how much I fancy you, Janice. Why don't we tell Lydia that something's come up and we can't help her today?" He began to massage her more firmly, tweaking her nipples with his finger and thumbs and traced a line along her earlobe with his tongue.

Janice moved her head sharply away from him and snapped, "Don't be silly Darling, we can't let her down. You know she's depending on us." She grabbed his hands and flung them away, "What's got into you? Why are you doing this?"

Deflated, he moved away, "Sorry dear, I just thought it might be fun."

She turned to look at her husband and her expression softened, "Donald. Don't you think we're a little old for this sort of silliness?" Donald was suddenly angry, "What's so silly about a man wanting to make love with his wife?"

The doorbell rang and Janice said, "Oh! That must be Lydia, she's early. Look can we talk about this later?" She checked her hair in the mirror as she passed and then hurried to let her friend in.

Very soon they were deep in conversation in the sitting room, talking about cake stalls, the white elephant, hoopla, toilets, health and safety and all the other assorted trivia involved in the smooth running of the Summer Fete. Donald wandered in and sat down. He was almost exclusively ignored, except when Janice asked him to make a pot of tea.

It was almost lunchtime when Lydia left and Donald decided to try again. He took his wife's hand, "Let's forget cooking today. Let's just drive in the country; we could stop at a pub for lunch. Maybe go for a walk this afternoon, just you and me."

Janice looked up from where she was poring over the lists and plans that she and Lydia had worked out, "I'm sorry Donald. I'll be too busy this afternoon. I still have a lot to do for the Fete."

"Well what about tomorrow then? We could go to the coast for the day. Hey, do you remember that day at Eastbourne? We had fun. Especially in the sand dunes."

"Donald, you know I always help out with the coffee morning at the Vicarage after church."

Defeated, Donald stormed out to the garden. He looked around and decided to do some weeding. Not that the garden needed it, but working in his garden always seemed to calm him down. Thirty-five years old, married to a stranger and trapped in a job he hated.

A loud honk from above startled him. He looked up and watched as a wild goose floated in the air high above, turned lazy circles in the sky and cried out again before wheeling off into the distance. Donald knew the goose was mocking him, mocking his clipped wings.

Janice called him in from the garden at six o'clock for his dinner. He walked in the kitchen and sat down. As they ate, Donald broke their usual silence and asked, "Why don't we go out tonight? We could go dancing, we haven't been out in ages. It would be quite romantic don't you think?"

"Oh Donald, I always do the lottery on Saturday nights. Look, what's got into you today? You're beginning to make me nervous."

"I just feel like we should spend more time together, we never do anything together any more. We barely even speak."

The plans for the Fete still commanded Janice's attention, even while she ate. She was preoccupied and not altogether listening, "Don't be silly dear, of course we do. We do lots of things together."

"Like what?" he said quite sharply.

She looked up, "Sorry dear?"

He sagged and shook his head, "Nothing."

Later that night, Donald was in bed reading a book when Janice came into the room, as usual once her programs had finished. She was already in her nightie and carried two mugs of steaming cocoa. Janice set one down on each of their bedside tables and climbed into bed next to her husband. Donald felt her rummaging around next to him as she removed her knickers and then waited, "Well?" she asked.

"Well what?"

"I thought you wanted sex tonight."

Donald turned his back to her and pulled his duvet up over his shoulder, "No."

"I wish you'd make your mind up, Donald, you haven't talked about much else all day. Sometimes I really don't understand you."

Donald whispered, "No, Janice. You don't understand at all."

As he drifted of to sleep, he remembered their day at the beach. Janice had been a different person then - loving, sparkling - and she had a devil-may-care attitude. In fact, making love in the sand dunes had been her idea. The memory was fresh in his mind.

They walked together hand in hand through the high dunes at the top of the low cliffs, amid the tangled gorse bushes that scratched and tickled their bare feet. He was wearing a T-shirt and light slacks, whilst Janice wore only a thin summer dress, with no underwear. She said the sea air made her feel more adventurous than normal and had shrugged off her bra, slipped off her knickers and left them in the car along with their footwear.

As they wandered between two particularly large dunes, Donald had spotted a small pathway that led off to a secluded area surrounded on all sides by sand walls and cliffs.

Giggling like schoolchildren, they nipped into the small cul-de-sac and had started seriously kissing, when Donald, amazed at his own daring and half expecting his hand to be pushed away, had let it fall to the hem of her dress.

Slowly, he slid his hand back up the outside of her thigh, gently rubbing her soft skin until he reached her hip. He could feel Janice's hard nipples drilling into his chest as they kissed hungrily and his cock felt as hard as steel in his trousers.

She moaned against his lips, "Fuck me, fuck me now," and reached down to release his throbbing erection from his trousers. Once she had pulled his hard cock out into the open, she stepped away from him and simply slipped her dress over her head leaving herself totally naked.

Donald had never been so turned on as he was right now. He watched as she spread her dress out on the floor, "To stop sand going up my bum," she giggled and then lay down on her back on top of it. Janice spread her legs allowing Donald to see her soaking, swollen pussy. Her firm round breasts were heaving and her cherry-red nipples stood proudly erect. She also wore an expression of deep lust that he had never seen before. Her eyes burned into him and she said again, "Fuck me."

He was overtaken by passion and just fell down on top of her. His hard cock slid straight into her hot cunt and she groaned in ecstasy. The thrill of fucking her here, out in the open, was driving Donald wild. The danger of being caught heightened the thrill and he started to fuck her.

He thrust wildly in and out, no lovemaking in this, it was pure unadulterated fucking. They pushed against each other as the feelings filled them, the excitement driving them to new heights. He felt her stiffen beneath him and she bit into his shoulder to try and stop herself from screeching with joy.

He felt her pussy wash its fluids down his prick as he pistoned in and out, in and out. Donald tried to fix his mouth to her nipple, but could not because his hard thrusts were making her tits move up and down so fast. His balls were coated with her sticky cum, but still he thrust his hardness into her boiling cunt.

Janice started to thrash about on the floor as yet another climax began to build, "Harder ... Donald ... Harder ... Cum ... I want you to cum ... Now!"

Her words set him off, he felt a tingle in his balls, building, growing. The warmth began to spread out from his groin and then he couldn't stop himself.

He came.

His hot cum exploded from his prick, jetting inside Janice's roasting hole. He pushed himself tight inside her, his cock throbbing and pulsing as stream after stream of his fluid blasted against her cervix. It was all she needed to send her over the edge.

She came.

Janice wrapped her arms tight around his neck and her face screwed up with ecstasy as her climax filled her with his hot man fat. She couldn't help it, she screamed, "Oh Yes! ... Oh God!"

As they floated back down to Earth together, hugging and kissing, they suddenly heard voices coming closer. Hurriedly, they struggled back into their clothes and managed to reach a state of decency before a small group of ramblers walked past their area.

They stood together until the people had gone and then Donald noticed that Janice was squirming. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"I still got sand up my bum," she replied.

Laughing, they returned to the car and home.

Sunday came and went and then it was Monday. The morning passed slowly as Donald waded through page after page of legalese and jargon. When lunchtime arrived, he decided that for once, he would not work through it whilst eating a sandwich, as was his usual custom. He thought he would get out of the office for the hour, go somewhere, maybe to the park or just for a coffee in the local café. Anywhere as long as it was not here.

Mr. Jamison stopped him outside his office door; he was holding a plastic clip file. "Ah Donald, glad I caught you. After a favour actually, old son. Would you run your eyes over this file and tell me what you think? I need it first thing this afternoon. Would do it myself, but I promised the wife I'd meet her for lunch today." He thrust the file into Donald's hands and walked away rapidly back up the corridor.

Donald stared down at the file he held. Slowly, his hands began to shake; the tremors increased until the whole of his arms were shaking too. His breathing became heavy and ragged. Furious, he threw the file to the floor at his feet with all the force he could muster and screamed, "NO!" Donald stormed back into his office, slamming the door behind him.

He paced up and down the room with his fists clenched tight. He could hear a vehicle honking its horn outside in the street, and it sounded remarkably like the scornful goose. He stopped pacing.

Slowly he managed to get control of himself and forced his breathing to calm down. He was still angry, he had been screaming furious, but now it was cold. It settled in his stomach and forced him to think clearly about the situation he was in.

Oh yes, Donald thought and thought hard. He thought about what he wanted. Not commitments, not what was expected, not what he simply must do. Donald thought about what he wanted, and this was not it.

He wanted a job he could be happy in. He wanted Janice back, not the stranger who sat on his sofa ignoring him. He wanted Lydia and her harpy friends to go to Hell and never come back. He wanted time. Time for himself and his wife.

Suddenly, Donald knew what he had to do. But he needed to make some phone calls, the first being to his bank manager. Calmly, Donald sat back at his desk. He picked up the phone and dialled. As he waited for the connection, he smiled, then he laughed. It was the first time he had laughed in a long, long time.

It was nearly two o'clock when he was leaving the building and he bumped into Jamison, coming back from his lunch date. "Hello, Donald," he said, "Did you look over that file for me?"


Jamison was taken aback, "What do you mean, no?"

"Exactly what I said, no. It's right where I left it, on the floor outside my office." His boss, blustered, not quite able to understand what Donald was saying, "What? On the floor? What's got into you? I asked you specifically to do me a favour and you just leave it on the floor?"

Donald snarled, "Yes, it's on the floor, untouched. If you want it done, do it yourself."

Angry himself now, Jamison shouted, "How dare you talk to me like this? I don't know what's got into you, Donald Harwell, but I think you should seriously consider your position. Now, you go back inside and look through the file like I asked," his voice softened slightly and he adopted a more conciliatory tone, "then we'll say no more about it. Look old china, maybe you need a break. I know, why don't you knock off a bit early today, once you've finished up. Go on, treat yourself, spend the rest of the afternoon at home with, erm, Jenny isn't it?"

To Jamison's surprise, Donald just laughed in his face. "You just don't get it do you? I am knocking off early. I'm knocking off now. You can stick the file up your big, fat arse for all I care," and marched away to his car. Jamison could only stare in shock, then he shouted, "Donald Harwell, you are fired!"

The answer came back through the car window as it pulled away, "Shove it. I resign."

As Donald drove back to his house, he felt as if the weight was lifting from his shoulders. A honking sound from above suddenly surprised him; he looked through his open sunroof and saw a wild goose flying directly over his car, keeping pace with him. Was it the same bird he had seen twice in the past week? Donald had no way of knowing, after all they all looked alike to him, but he liked to think that it was. On a whim, he increased the speed of the car, the goose beat its wings and flew faster to keep up with him. Donald sped up a little more and again so did the graceful bird.

"So it's a race you want." Donald floored the accelerator and the BMW Saloon shot forward, jerking him back into his seat. The goose flapped harder and harder, trying to keep apace with the car, but slowly fell back, unable to keep up such a punishing pace. Donald left it behind. He felt joyous; he felt alive.

He eased the car to a halt at the end of the road and got out. Looking back along the road, he saw the goose come flying in. As it reached him, it gave a loud cry, as though cheering the victor and then wheeled away slowly in the direction of the park.

As Donald watched the elegant creature drift away, he could see it in the distance, dropping lower and lower in the sky as it came in to land in the park.

Donald arrived back at his house and entered the living room. Janice was glued to the Oprah Winfrey show. Barely noticing his arrival, she murmured, "You're home early, dear." He stood next to the television, resting his hand on the top of it and said, "Janice, we have to talk."

"Not just now dear, I'm watching this."

Calmly, Donald pushed the television forward. It toppled from its stand and landed screen first on the floor with a crash. As it fell, the plug was ripped from the wall socket and hit him in the ankle. He ignored it. He stared at his wife, who now sat speechless on the sofa. "I said, we need to talk."

Janice's eyes bulged and her mouth worked silently for a second until she managed to say, "Erm, okay dear. What about?"

"I quit my job today. I can't work there any more. Had enough of Jamison, had enough of working through my lunch and working late, just to keep him in champagne. So I resigned. I've decided to set up in business myself."

Unable to quite understand what was happening, Janice floundered and could not think of anything to say, so Donald continued, "Yes. I spoke to the bank manager. I can do it, we have enough savings to tide us over until the work comes in. I also talked to a number of our customers. Not the bosses though, they don't know what's going on anyway. No, I talked to the workers. People like me who keep everything running. They know the score, oh yes indeed. And they know who did all the good work at Jamison Ltd. I don't think we'll have any problems at all."

He waited.

Janice finally found her voice, "Dear, erm, are you sure this is wise? Isn't it a bit risky?"

She was very nervous, as she had never seen this side of Donald before.

"What's life without a bit of risk? I'll tell you: it's boring. It's dull, tedious, monotonous and I don't want that any more. I want risk, I want a bit of uncertainty. I want to be happy and I want my wife back. We've been growing apart. We've become strangers. I don't know you any more. I want to find you again. I still love you and I want you to be happy too. Tell me what you want and I'll make it happen."


"Tell me what you want."

"Donald, maybe you've been working too hard. Perhaps we need a break, we'll go away for a couple of days and you'll see. Then you could go back to Jamison's and ask them to take you back and-"

Donald cut across her, "No, Janice, I can't go back. I know what's wrong with my life and I'm fixing it. Work is not important at the moment. We are important. Us. I want to make you happy, so tell me what you want."

"You're scaring me, Donald. You've been ever so strange these past couple of days. Maybe ... maybe you should make an appointment with the doctor."

Suddenly furious, Donald kicked the fallen television out of the way and stormed over to where Janice sat. He stood over her with his fists clenched tightly in front of him and screamed in her face, "JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU FUCKING WANT!"

Janice shrank back on the sofa and yelped as she covered her head with her arms. She cried, "Don't hit me."

Donald stared at Janice as she cowered in fright. His mouth open, he looked at his bunched fists and then back at his terrified wife. "Oh, Jesus Christ! You thought I was going to hit you? Oh, Jesus Christ."

He slumped down in shock next to her on the sofa with his head in his hands, "Is this how much we've lost each other? You really thought I would hit you. Janice, I love you, I would never hurt you."

He looked back at Janice and gently put his hand on her arm, she shivered as he touched her, but did not pull away. "Janice, how did we let this happen?"

Slowly, Janice uncurled and looked back at her husband She was still frightened and her voice quavered, "I don't know."

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