Chapter 9

This time, before I knew it, it was December fourth, and our mailman knocked on our door again.

“Registered mail for a Mr Liam Shephard,” he grinned before cheekily adding, “Shame your wife isn’t home today.”

Pretending to be serious, I answered, “Why? Do you want to look at her shaved cunt again?”

The postie blushed but bravely replied, “Well, if she wants to display it for me again?”

I laughed before saying, “Unfortunately for you, Ness is on a dayshift today. Maybe next time?”

Pushing ahead, our mailman asked, “Is she like your slut, or something? Do you, umm, offer her to others?”

“No, mate,” I explained. “But if my wife chooses you to play with, she’ll send you to me to ask for my permission.”

“Do you think she would?” The postie almost pleaded.

“It’s a big city, so you never know your luck!” I diplomatically replied, looking over his pudgy body and knowing our mail would never reach this address if I told him what I actually knew —that his chances were precisely between none and fuck all.

Taking his pen back from me, our mailman said, “A man can dream, right? After she flashed me the last time, my wife got it three times that night!”

“I’ll tell, Ness,” I grinned at the postie. “She’ll be delighted that she caused that reaction.”

Looking around as if he needed to divulge a secret that would start World War III, the postie whispered, “Your missus is as hot as all fuck. You know that, right?”

Straight-faced, I replied, “You think so? I hadn’t noticed! But I’m sure her twenty-plus lovers agree with you!”

“Twenty-plus lovers?” The mailman asked.

“There may have been more from before we married,” I answered deadpan.

Shaking his head, the postie hopped onto his bike and resumed his round.

I wanted to wait until my wife arrived home before opening Tanya’s letter, but I quickly decided I couldn’t wait, so I split the seal with my thumb and withdrew Tanya’s latest picture.

‘Oh!’ I thought as I stared at the picture.

Tanya looked alluringly at the camera, lying in a ‘tub of plastic balls’, clearly appearing to be naked but showing nothing.

“On my eighteenth birthday, am I wearing nothing or a diaphanous robe?” Her accompanying note read.

“Faaarkkkkk!” I groaned, knowing I was in for a night of aggressive, ‘take no prisoners’ sex when Ness saw the picture.

I wrote ‘Ness’ on the envelope and propped it against the house phone. Then, when my wife arrived home, we fucked until dawn poked its ugly head above the horizon.

“Can you phone in that your cunt’s sore, so you can’t come to work today?” Ness rhetorically asked as she searched in vain for something to soothe her worn vagina.

December means Christmas, of course. It also means end-of-year and Christmas office and company parties. The bigger of these provide plenty of opportunities for me to host or MC these events, so I’m typically very busy at this time of year. For Vanessa, it means the beginning of the traditional period where the staff want time off to spend with their families.

In her working life, I had always thought that Ness had received the ‘rough end of the pineapple up her fundament’ because when she first graduated, she was told that Christmas and New Year holidays were reserved for married nurses and nurses with children. But now that she’s married with children, the younger nurses expect to get those holidays because it’s their party time. However, there’s little we can do except grin and bear it.

My wife is often stressed at this time of year because of working short-staffed and overwrought families who demand that granny or pop just have to be home for Christmas dinner, or their Christmas will be totally ruined. Then there’s the opposite of that where granny or pop is dropped off at the hospital because the family can’t, or don’t want to, look after them because they want a family break over these holidays. Of course, the poor old dears are distraught because they can’t understand why they’ve been abandoned.

Over the years of our marriage, December into January has been the period where Ness most often asks for a pass. Having a twenty-four-hour fuck fest with some hunk she desires helps blow off the frustrations from her work and allows her to be a good mother to our boys and wife to me.

Reviewing my year, I realised I hadn’t asked for a single ‘pass’. It wasn’t that there weren’t plenty of attractive women in my life giving subtle, and sometimes not so subtle, hints that they were available. It was because a certain young Rockhampton woman had garnered my full attention. Well, what attention I spared from my beautiful wife, of course.

The year ended without fanfare, as Vanessa and I expressed our love in slow, soft, expressive lovemaking instead of the sometimes frenzied fucking we’d done since receiving Tanya’s first letter.

“Didn’t need to fuck some stud’s brains out to cope with the stress of work Christmas and New Year this year, babe?” I teased as we cuddled early New Year’s morning, having seen it in making love.

“No.” Ness replied before confessing, “I’ve felt a little guilty for being selfish and taking more lovers than I really needed just because I was horny and could.”

Mildly concerned, I said, “If I’m not looking after you well enough, baby, kick my ass and demand I do better!”

Ness laughed as she hugged me and, in a sultry voice, replied, “You look after me so well, lover, that I can barely stand the next morning, let alone walk.”

“Is me willingly preparing to make love with Tanya bothering you, then? I can tell her it can’t happen if you want?”

“Don’t you dare!” Ness said fiercely. “I want you to make love to her probably more than you and she want to make love to each other!”

“Why the guilts, then?”

Ness, her hips slowly undulating under me as her pussy gripped my deflating pole in slow but firm pulses, causing it to reinflate immediately, said, “Because this is the first year since we got married that you haven’t asked for a ‘day pass’. I’ve had two, neither of which I particularly needed, but because it’s a habit, and I wanted to.”