Choices. So many choices, so many ways things could have worked out. But we make our choices, and we try to make good ones. And we take responsibility for our choices, too. Did my choices lead me inexorably to this point? Or was there an uncontrollable, unchosen outside force that got me here? Not that it really matters, because I choose, every day -- every minute of every day -- to live like this. Wasn't it Sartre who said that every day we make the choice to go on living, so we are responsible for the state of our lives -- after all we chose it, right?
Right now, even as I type these words, there is a woman under my desk. It's a big desk. I chose it because it was big. Not so I could get a woman underneath it, but for the desktop surface area. It just so happens that I can fit a woman underneath it. She's on her knees, of course. I gave her a pillow. Her mouth is around my cock, slowly sucking and nibbling to her heart's content. She's really good at it. Better than I ever knew in our twenty-two years together. The woman is my wife.
There have been lots of changes lately. I wasn't sure when it started. No, I do know - I just didn't know it at the time. The real changes started at least a year ago. I don't know how I missed it, but I did. I started noticing things when my sex life picked up six months ago, but didn't examine it too closely. I was too busy reveling in my good fortune to question its origins.
Of course, I didn't select her for her sexual prowess. She didn't choose me for that either. Believe it or not, we were both virgins when we met in college and our sex life was never what you'd call imaginative. The first time I saw her, I was attracted to her: a cute pert nose, long straight red hair, and long legs that went all the way up to her ass. She was wearing a pink tennis skirt which showed them off, and a white sleeveless shirt which clung to her breasts.
Unlike so many other college women who wore pants or jeans, Mary liked to dress well. Imagine my surprise when I discovered she was actually intelligent. We were in a philosophy class together -- she was actually a philosophy major, of all things. I wound up taking a lot of philosophy classes for my remaining two years of college.
After graduation, I asked her to marry me. She said yes and dropped out of school. A year later, Jenny was born. Two years later, Tom followed her. Tom started college last fall ... I think that's why I didn't notice the change in our sex life: I figured it was just an outgrowth of finally being alone in the house again, a hearken back to the old days when we did it more than once a week, or once every two. Or maybe that the exercise program she'd started several months earlier was finally paying of in other dividends.
It still wasn't anything special. Missionary position, or, ironically, the female superior position. The thing about sex for us was the connection. At least for me anyway, then. The connection with the woman I loved. Looking into her eyes, touching her, caressing her. That two- way exchange of caring that expressed our love. It didn't have to be 'hot and sweaty sex'. We made love.
Things are slightly different, now. I have to wonder if I was the only one who saw our sex lives that way. Why did she wait so long to tell me? Or, did I, happy with the status quo, choose to ignore her signals? I'll probably never know.
She's sucking really hard now. It's almost hard to concentrate. She's holding herself up with one hand, and the other is fondling my balls as her head bobs up and down on my shaft. It's fucking amazing. He taught her well.
Yes, *HIM*, that uncontrollable outside force that has, like a tornado, blown through my life, turning everything upside down and inside out. Only it wasn't a tornado. It wasn't fast and sudden. It was more like the ocean breeze that molds the sand into dunes: inexorable, insistent, but so gradual you don't even see the changes.
It was *him* that started the exercise program. It was him that urged her to increase her sexual activity with me. It was him doing all of that, behind the scenes, until that fateful day a few weeks ago when it was all presented to me, the deal all closed, with only one loose end. I had only one choice left to make, and I keep making it every minute of every hour of every day since.
I had just gotten back from helping Jenny move out of the school dorms into her own apartment. She would be spending the summer in Raleigh -- finally really moving out -- and she needed her dad's SUV to move all her stuff. I gladly volunteered, and spent the weekend helping her move, and meeting her friends and roommates. Tom was still in school for a few more weeks, so we'd have to do it all over again then, only he'd be moving home.
I drove back Sunday afternoon, taking my time. I had slept well that night, and had almost slept over the hotel's checkout time I was so tired. But I was well rested, and looking forward to getting back to Charlotte, and my wife. I still had no clue what was going on.
I should have had some sort of clue when Mary met me at the door, wearing only a sheet wrapped loosely around her body. I asked her, "What?" but she stopped me with a finger on my lips and slight smile on her face. She dropped to her knees in front of me, still holding the sheet around her, and pulled my cock out of my pants. It was only the second blowjob she'd ever given me.
The first was while we were still in college. She thought she'd try it as an alternative to using condoms. We were cheap college students and these were the days before college campuses were giving them away. We wanted sex, but we wanted neither the consequences of sex nor the cost of birth control. But after that first attempt, Mary found the money for condoms. It was always nice inside her pussy anyway, warm, inviting, wet. Even after 22 years I never got enough of it. Now I satisfy myself with the other options.
And one can really become a connoisseur of the "other options" You can be sucked by the mouth, and then there's the tongue. And her ass ... tight all the time in a way her cunt hadn't been since Jenny was born. Not that I have much choice in the matter.
But I'm rambling. Where was I? Oh yes, Mary on her knees in front of me, naked as the day she was born, her mouth hot and wet around my cock. My first blowjob in 23 years, and it was a damn fine one, too. I wanted to talk to her, but she motioned for me to be quiet, and kept sucking. Eventually I came in her mouth, and she swallowed it all, and then cleaned my cock off with her mouth.
That just got me hard again.
So she led me upstairs into our bedroom, stripped my clothes off. I was hot and I wanted to be inside her, even though I had just come. I reached for the sheet, to take it off, but she shook her head. "What?" I asked incredulous. "Honey, take off the sheet, I want to make love to you." She shuddered then, and let the sheet drop. And I saw.
"You pierced your nipples?" I exclaimed. That was something the youngsters did. But still, I could feel the blood flow down to my twitching penis. It was hot. I reached for them, and her hands came up.
"No," she said. "They are too tender to touch right now."
"OK," I said. "But damn, they are hot. I need you now, lie down so we can make love."
She looked down at my feet. then back up at me. "I ... I want you to fuck me in the ass," she said. I stared at her incredulously. She wanted me to fuck her where? Then she turned and got on her knees on the bed in front of me, and I saw the reason why.
Six, no seven new piercings. One just over her clit, the other six down her labia, three on each side. And a bar running through it. And it was locked on! Locked! There was no way I could get inside her pussy. "What is going on here?" I said, backing up, confused.
"Please John, just fuck me in the ass, and I'll explain it. There's lube by the bed." I looked, and there was lube on the nightstand. I took it, lubed up my cock, now hard and straining as it hadn't since I was in college. I needed to know what was going on, but I needed to fuck her more. Then I lubed up her asshole, and slid into her ass, something I had never done before.
And God she was tight. Tight like I'd never felt her before. I slid in and out of her, slowly, then faster and faster as the lube spread up and down my cock and the inside of her ass. My mind was lost to the lust of my wife, my sweet gentle wife who was now practically a pincushion. Not that I thought about it then, of course. I was too tied up in my cock and what it was doing, feeling my balls slap against her ass as she moaned and sighed beneath me. So, despite all the signs, I still allowed myself to think that my wife had done all of this for me, for our sex life.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
After I came in her, and pulled out, my cock covered with lube and her goo, Mary got up, went to the bathroom, and then came back out with a towel, and washed me off. She curled up next to me, and I looked at her. "That was amazing."
"Yes," she said, quietly. "It is amazing." Almost whispering. She was quiet for a moment. "Now comes the hard part. You need to watch this." I saw that she had our bedroom remote, and she clicked the TV on. Then she slid down my legs and once again engulfed my cock with her mouth. It was limp, but her tongue began it's magic, slowly getting me hard again.
Then the tape in the VCR started to play.
On the screen I saw a man's face, covered by a domino mask. The camera pulled back, revealing a man with brown hair, a little gray at the temples, but otherwise in good shape. Without a shirt on. In one hand he held the remote for the camera, and was thumbing it. As he zoomed the camera back, I saw his other hand, wrapped in my wife's hair, moving her head up and down his cock. She was moaning.