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Damn, She's Good
I stumbled home around 9:00 p.m., for the fourth
night in a row. I'd have a 5 o'clock shadow if I
didn't have a full beard already. With my tie
loosened, and my suit jacket over my shoulder, I
drug myself from my car to the door. Not
defeated, just exhausted. I've been working on a
proposal with the rest of my team, which when
presented tomorrow at 11:00 a.m., could result
in a multi-million dollar deal for the company I
work for. We've spent the last week digging
through histories, watching market trends, and
generally making our eyes bleed over
spreadsheets and databases. With the report as
done as it was going to get, we sent it off for
final proofing, and as I was the one presenting
the next day, decided I would read over the
final copy the next morning, with a fresh cup of
coffee.
I got through the door, hung up my jacket, and
put my leather case down. The familiar and
comfortable sounds and smells of home started to
perk me, and as I heard my wife tinkering in the
kitchen, figured I'd wander and see if she had
saved me any leftovers.
"Hey, honey." I called. My wife was standing in
front of our bar, I assume making a drink. As
you leave out of the living room near the front
door, you start to enter the kitchen, which you
quickly would notice expands in a very open
space off to the right. Around the left and far
walls are the normal kitchen attributes, with a
door in the corner leading to our deck, which
connects to a shared backyard with our
neighbors, Jim and Dori Miller. As the back
kitchen wall expands to the right, the middle
section of the wall houses a fairly well stocked
bar, and then starts to lead into the sliding
red oak doors of my office / den.
Even though it was just past 9, my wife Julia
was in her short khaki shorts and a blue polo. I
assume she was wearing them earlier, and as the
weather was so nice, and the house a bit warm,
decided to not change into something more
comfortable, which is what she usually does.
"Good Evening, Mr. MacDougal." she replied. She
loved calling me that, especially when I got
home from work. She felt that I was too serious,
even at home - like I was still running a
business. Her calling me 'Mr. MacDougal' is her
way of reminding me I can actually relax, and
leave the business guy at work. Her long auburn
hair flipped around her shoulders as she turned
around, with drink in hand - which she walked
over and handed to me.
"Oh thanks, what did you make?" I asked.
"Scotch on the rocks, figured you could use it -
hows the proposal going?"
"I don't know, I just don't know. We've checked
everything, we've got what the client wants, but
I hear this Mr. Thompson we're meeting with is a
bit of a nut. Random things set him off, no
rhyme - no reason, and he's a stickler for
facts. It's hard to know what he's going to look
for." I replied. I took a sip of the drink which
was cool to the lips, and warmed going down. She
was right, I could use this, and had been
looking forward to making myself one anyway. I
loved how she could read my mind sometimes.
"Any leftovers from dinner?" I asked.
"Oh nononono. Remember when we watched the
Miller's kid for a week 2 months ago? Well I
called in a favor. I knew you'd be tired and
hungry - so I got Jim to grill you up a steak. I
thought you wouldn't be home for another hour or
so, so it won't be read for... 40 minutes yet. I
hope that's ok?"
"You're the most wonderful woman in the world."
I leaned in and kissed her on the lips.
Jim was no slouch with the grill, and I know the
man didn't keep anything less than a 16oz. on
hand at any given time, so this was quite a nice
suprise.
"I already put Jason down for bed, but I'm going
to go check on him really quick. I'll be right
down. Why don't you go flip on the news in the
den?" With that she kissed me again quick on the
lips, and spun around and headed for the stairs.
I looked over my shoulder as she dashed up the
stairs, still in amazement by how fast she
bounced back after the pregnancy. Her butt
looked as good as it had 5 years ago when I
married her. All firm, no flabby jiggle. The
same to be said about her legs, slender and
smooth. I told her once that she had no torso.
She looked slightly offended until I explained
that it was because she was made entirely of
legs up to her breasts, which was exactly how I
envisioned the perfect woman. Painfully long
legs and a full C-cup.
I headed for the den, slid the doors open,
walked to the center of the room, placed my
drink on the side table, and proceeded to loosen
things up. The sleeves were already cuffed, but
the tie was now draped, strewn across the desk,
the top two buttons undone, the shoes kicked
off, and the belt coiled in the floor just next
to the shoes. I frumped down into my leather
chair, put my feet on the ottoman and turned on
the t.v. I like to flip between the major news
channels. Everyone at work swears by their
favorite, and chastises anyone who watches the
other guy - the truth is that none of them tell
the full story. They all have an angle. Watch
them all, you get a rounder picture.
I lounged this way for about 5 minutes before
Julia came back in. She hopped up on the chair,
sitting on the left arm, and started to rub my
back and neck with her right hand. She had taken
her shoes off, and slowly started to creep her
toes between the arm of the chair, and under my
left thigh, seeking to keep them warm. I lazily
flipped between the channels, flipping again at
each commercial break. We would both snicker
when someone said something stupid or
contradicted themselves. Otherwise it was pretty
peaceful.
At about around 9:40, Julia braced her self on
my shoulder, pulled her toes from under my legs,
swiveled around and got off the chair, wandering
somewhere behind me, and between my desk, which
was about 10 feet away. I figured she was just
going over to the wall to turn up the heat a
bit. It had been a warm enough day - and as I
said the house was a bit warmer, but she was in
shorts and a short sleave polo, and it was early
september. I figured she was getting a little
chilly. A few clinks and a creak or two later
she reappeared at my left side, holding a tray.
The lights were slightly dimmed, and feeling
very comfortable, it took me a second to
register the fact that she was waiting on me. I
looked over and saw that the tray itself was my
cigar ash tray, and in the large bowl of the
marble tray sat a fresh cigar, my clippers, and
my cigar lighter. This took me for an even
bigger suprise, as Julia was not very fond of
cigar smoke. It wasn't the worst thing to her
normally, but when the pregnancy hit, I had to
give it up completely because of her nasuea.
"Well, I, that's really sweet of you, but I
don't want to chase you away. I like having you
sit here with me." I said, slowly shaking my
head left to right.
"No it's ok, really, I don't mind it anymore."
she said. She lowered the ash tray a little bit
closer to me, and with those reassuring eyes, I
took the three items, and she sat the ash tray
down on the side table, also to my left. I sat
my drink down on the table to my right, and
after clipping the end, and lighting up, I
placed the items on the table, swapping them for
my drink . My dominican perfectly complimented
the scotch. Julie returned to her place on the
arm of my chair, with her hand around my
shoulders. As I slowly drew from the cigar, and
sipped my scotch I started to remember the steak
that was due out in 20 minutes. I stretched my
way upward to my wife, and when she turned to
look at me, kissed her slowly on the lips. She
returned the kiss, with just a little bit of
tongue, and as I broke the kiss I whispered,
"Thank you."
We sat that way for another couple of minutes,
Julia toggling between ranting reporters, and me
falling into my zen. And then she turned and got
up again.
Julia walked in between the chair and the
ottoman, picking up my calves and lowering them
to the floor, and pushing the ottoman a couple
of feet closer to the t.v. With that she put her
hands between my knees, spreading them apart,
and knelt in front of my lap, sitting on her
knees.
With that she started to take off my socks.
First the left, then the right. As she slowly
started to reach for my pants button, I shorted
my draw on my cigar and asked, "Anything I can
help you with?"
"No, no. I'm fine. Thanks though." She proceeded
to unbutton my pants, pull down the zipper, and
with hands on either side of my hips, pull down
both my pants and boxer-briefs. Now she said
that she didn't need any help, but I decided to
lift my ass up a bit anyway, in the interests of
making things easier.
I'm not an idiot, and it didn't take my groin
long to figure out was coming next either. Once
my pants were down around my ankles, she reached
inbetween my leg and the arm of the chair,
grabbed the remote, turned off the t.v., placed
the remote on the table next to the ashtray, and
without the briefest hesitation engulfed my cock
between the most beautiful set of DSL's in the
tri state area. Guys at work used to think that
I hated my job, and ran home as soon as
possible, until one day at a dinner meeting when
they met my wife. They all understood
immediately. These lips looked like they were
torn straight from Angelina Jolie, and they were
currently sliding up and down my shaft. My head
rolled back on the chair, my eyes rolled back in
my head, and as she started to go down again,
when she hit bottom, she started to slide her
tongue out and down to play with my balls at the
same time. I thought I was going to blow right
there - and she knew it. That was one of the
problems, the only problems, Julia knew exactly
what a talent she was, and used it whenever she
felt the situation warranted some extra
"persuasion." After her brief tongueing, she
slowed down the pace a bit, and went to work.
With my head back in an upright position, and my
eyes glued on her, I watched her slowly suck my
cock like it was the most amazing thing every
conceived by main, and that it was made just for
her.
I don't think I could have been happier, a
scotch, a cigar, and a beautiful brunette
between my legs, and a steak on the way. I
enjoyed this for a couple of minutes, before
putting down drink and stogie, and working on
unbuttoning my white collared dress shirt, and
pulling of my undershirt. Once that was done, I
leaned back in my chair again, and just stared
into her green eyes. She looked up straight at
me, with whisps of hair covering her face and
continued dragging those lips up and down across
my dick.
Suddenly she let my cock out of her mouth with a
low 'pop' and worked to stand up. She stood in
front of me, and while gently lifting my legs,
worked to release my feet from the pants still
crumpled at the ankles. Once totally naked, she
stood in between my legs, placed both hands on
the bottom of her shirt, with arms crossed, and
pulled off her shirt in one fell swoop. Those
perfect tear drop breasts jiggled freely with
their release, as her mid-back length hair
swayed back and forth, laying against her
lightly tanned skin.
After she knew that I had taken it all in, she
undid the button on her khaki shorts, lowered
the zipper, until I could just see one or two of
those neatly trimmed pubes poke through, and
turned completely around. She stood there for a
second with her back to me, her hands on her
hips, not doing anything. That's when I realized
that at some point I would have to play a part.
I leaned forward and slowly worked her shorts
down to her ankles, where she quickly stepped
out of them.
When I came home and first saw her, I'm positive
she was wearing a bra, I could see it under she
shirt on her shoulders, and I just assumed that
she was also wearing panties. Her little
excursion upstairs must have been to relieve
herself of such nuisances.
Standing before me completely naked, she lifted
her left leg, and pushed my leg inward, doing
the same then with the right leg, until her legs
were then on the outside of mine. It was really,
amazingly remarkable how quickly she bounced
back. Yes her hips may have been a little wider,
but I didn't mind that at all, especially
considering how toned everything else was. She
slowly leaned forward, bending at the waist,
until her arms were braced on the ottoman, and I
was left with the sight of nothing but those
beautiful long legs, and her sweet, sweet pussy.
I dove in, gently at first. I know that my wife
loves my beard, for both this, and aesthetic
reasons, but if I rush in too quickly, she gets
beard burn, and it kills the mood.
I lightly kissed the back of her thighs, moving
closer and closer to her pussy. My beard
brushing against her legs, my mouth inched
closer and closer until I was gently licking her
outer lips, her fragrance filling my nose. At
this point, once I have that smell in my nose,
all notion of 'taking it slow' and 'romance' fly
out the window, and all I want to do is fuck her
so hard I split her in two. But I kept control.
I lick tenderly, gently lapping at her juices,
that at this point, are practically free
flowing. As I start to bury my face in her, my
chin soaked with her juices, she starts to
tighten her legs and moan loudly. A minute later
she's coming, and screaming into the leather
ottoman.
She jerks up right, works around my legs, puts
her hand on my chest and pushes me back against
the chair. The fragrance of her pussy is quickly
replaced with the wofting smoke of the dominican
cigar, and I am in heaven. She climbs up on the
chair, with her feet between my thighs and the
sides their respective chair arms, puts her
hands on both sides of my head, cupping my ears.
She rests her elbows on my broad hairy chest,
and kisses me as she crouches down.
As if she were some amazonian goddess, she no
longer speaks. All I hear is a grunt, a pant, a
moan as she bites my lip and breathes heavily,
slowly working her hips across my groin. She
knows exactly what she's doing. She's not
hunting for my cock, she's toying with it. The
captain's at full mast, rubbing against her left
butt cheeck, but she just keeps circling around
it.
Her fingers run through my hair, her lips locked
on mine, my left arm wandering across her back,
my right hand massaging her left tit. She's done
toying with me, and in one full swoop, I'm
buried to the hilt, I almost didn't feel it
happen it was so fast. A passing thought of
"she's not as tight as she was before" is
immediately replaced by the most amazing muscle
contractions on my cock. She went from from
'throwing a hot dog down a hall way' to the
tightest pussy I've ever had in my life. She was
so tight I thought the friction and the heat was
going to slow us up - but not her. She humped my
cock like her life depended on it. Our foreheads
pressed against each other, breathing into each
other, our heat doing the talking for us, we
created a new language of grunts and moans.
For a second she shifted her weight, and then
was suddenly resting on her knees, my cock still
inside her. In this position she seemed much
taller than me. I sat up straighter, wrapped my
arms around her back, locking them on her
shoulders, and buried my face in her breasts.
Biting, licking. My beard tickling her titties
as her crotch gyrated on my cock. Her clit
mashed in my pubes, she brought herself to
another orgasm, and another quickly after that.
Sweat dripped down our foreheads, between her
cleavage. I leaned back on the chair, slumped
now as my ass was on the edge of the seat. She
collapsed on me, her hands falling behind me to
the chair below. But I wasn't finished yet.
I planted my feet on the ground, raised up so
the pressure was on my toes, and proceed to jack
hammer into my wife from below. Her moan a long
continues one now, the sound of her voice
bouncing with every smack of my cock against her
ass. Now it was my turn to fuck her like my life
depended on it, and I did. My heart beating in
my chest, I beat her pussy like it owed me
money.
Her moans growing loader, I started growling,
her head to the left of mine, her hair draped
over my face, and as she had one more earth
shattering orgasm, I came in her, having
possibly one of the best orgasms of my life, if
not the best.
It was so amazing it was as if I blacked out. I
remember her crawling off of me, some mild
shuffling around, but the next thing I remember
was my wife standing in front of me, her shorts
back on, her shirt on inside out and her hair
looking like she stepped out from a hurricane.
And in her hands, a sizzling steak, medium rare.
I perked up, straightened myself in my leather
chair as she placed the steak and its tray on
the ottoman, pushing it forward.
My wife had fucked me into a daze.
Slowly coming out of it, she picked up the
scotch, put it in my hand, and kissed me on the
cheek.
"Take your time, enjoy your steak, your cigar,
your drink. I'll be upstairs... waiting... when
you're done." she whispered into my ear.
And I knew she would be. So I sat, in silence,
the only noises being the knife on the plate,
the ice clinking in my glass. Maybe it was the
sex, maybe my neighbor was really talented,
either way, it was one of the best damn steaks I
ever had.
With the steak completely gone, my drink
drained, and my cigar, or what was left of it,
smoldering in the ashtray, I wandered up stairs,
completely buck naked, determined to give my
wife another dozen orgasms. I would have slept
in the next morning too, if it weren't for that
damned proposal.
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