Almost Heaven Ch. 02

Jeanne met her second husband after a Board of Education meeting. Normally, she wouldn't attend them but she sometimes went just to see how much bullshit members could cover without once talking about what happened inside a classroom. As usual, they didn't disappoint.

Joe was a newly elected member and Jeanne taught history in the high school. At the time she was also the girls varsity volleyball coach and one of the items on the agenda was funding for sports.

"That's you!" Joe exclaimed as Jeanne walked past him afterwards. She gave him a funny look. What a lame pick up line. "Duh, hey lady, like don't I like know you from somefuckingplace?" Whatever the phrasing, what they all meant was, "Do you put out?" Cute guys like Joe, she learned, can be just as sorry-assed as the f-ugly ones. But just because Joe was handsome didn't mean he was like the others.

"In the picture," Joe continued, pointing to a photo of the championship team in the trophy case. "You're the coach! I cannot believe that. You look like a student...and no, I'm not trying to pick you up. I play for a team in one of the recreational league and we REALLY need some help. Any chance we could get you to coach us. We might even be able to pay you a little."

Whether Joe was trying or not, he picked Jeanne up. She had a long-standing weakness for salesmen and Joe was an outstanding one. Like any sales professional, closing was so paramount he wasn't above using any means available to achieve it. In time, Jeanne discovered that included her.

It was all in fun and Jeanne really didn't mind when Joe sometimes suggested she help entertain his clients. Sex wasn't required of her, but if everyone was agreeable, it wasn't out of the question either.

If the guy was attractive enough, Jeanne would suck him off. Occasionally, she'd get carried away and fuck one of them, especially if his cock was the exact, somewhat larger than average, size she knew would make her shiver right down to the soles of her feet.

During this time, Joe was no stranger to strange pussy. Attractive and persuasive, he was a magnet for the receptionists and secretaries who populated the companies he called upon. Especially the receptionists, those women who are hired because they can present a striking face to represent management.

There was nothing like having one's boss's boss say, "Nice to see you again Mr. Hatfield" to focus the attention of a woman counting on her good looks to curry favor and garner advancement. Married or single, they rarely turned down Joe Hatfield's offer of dinner even if it was room service at his hotel.

The most difficult thing for Jeanne was explaining Arley to Joe. She continued to date her fuck buddy throughout her courtship. She introduced him to Joe and told of her relationship going back to before her first marriage but left her future husband with the impression the friendship was now platonic. In truth, Jeanne wasn't certain when the proper moment would have been and, when she and Joe became serious quickly, discussing the fact that she was blowing another guy seemed risky in the extreme.

It wasn't until after the wedding that she told Joe she was still fucking Arley and, in fact, had never stopped. Joe was upset but didn't have a lot of moral underpinning to his position. It wasn't just that was he fucking other women. After all he argued, that was part of his "sales presentation." When he'd proposed, Jeanne's acceptance was conditional. If there was one thing she'd learned from her first marriage, it was that she couldn't be limited to one man sexually. If anything, it excited Joe to have such an erotic mate.

The "Arley issue" was worked out and Jeanne began having threesomes with Arley and her new husband just as she'd had with her first. Jeanne continued seeing Arley on her own as his or her needs required. Even when Joe wasn't on the road, Jeanne might have Arley over to their house for a romp without Joe participating.

Sometime into their second decade, Jeanne worried that more and more, Joe worked hard but played soft. Sucking a limber dick wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Often, cum-less nights with him would have her thinking about harder tasks and she knew just where to find them.

"Hand me that bra on the chair, Joe," Jeanne requested of her husband who had walked into their bedroom to retrieve his golf shirt but stayed to watch the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen walking half-naked around their big master suite. He loved the way her perky breasts jiggled especially when her nipples were distended as they were then. She was going out and Joe knew why.

Handing his wife her bra, she held it dangling from her forefinger rather than put it on immediately. "Do you think these stockings look better, or should I just leave my legs bare?" she asked him pulling up the hem of her short skirt and showing Joe where the nylon ended and she began.

It is such a pleasant image and one of unsurpassed heat: the vista of the upper thigh of a beautiful woman where stocking and flesh met in an erotic horizon that men don't tend to forget. Joe felt the beginnings of an erection that was, cruelly, about twenty hours late.

Last evening, Joe was working on the most important reports his job required. Every quarter, there is a push to close as many sales as possible so the numbers met or beat forecast. A lot of bonus money was riding on those reports. Joe had to convince his superiors which customers he should focus company resources on and which to let go for the following quarter.

Joe was very good about knowing his customers, and people in general, and his presentations were always convincing, but great care and effort were needed to get them right.

Jeanne knew that when her husband concentrated on providing their comfortable life, he was often unable to provide for her in other ways, emotionally, and especially, sexually. Like so many others, for Joe, stress was the great libido killer (although for Jeanne, it seemed an aphrodisiac). The blood vessels flowing into his cock seemed to be blocked by some psychological detour sign when his reports were due but happily re-opened the on-ramps to Hardon Highway once the quarter ended.

Last night was another unhappy reminder that, four times a year, for two fiscal weeks, Joe's cock belonged to his boss, not her. She enjoyed a reasonably decent orgasm as Joe lashed his tongue up and down her swollen slit while pressing urgently on her clit.

Cunnilingus, though, was one of Jeanne's least favorite activities given the old saw that sex is the greatest thing in the world; even when it's bad, it's good. It was the phallus that Jeanne craved, and sex that didn't involve a hot, hard one, always left her less than completely satisfied.

"You know I prefer your bare legs," Joe told his wife. Both knew she was teasing him.

"But you always tell me how hot you get when you see the tops of some woman's stockings," Jeanne protested mildly. "Are these two dark? Should I wear lighter ones?"

"Something closer to your natural skin?" Joe asked, hardly aware that he was offering his wife advice on how to look sexier as she prepared to go out alone. "Yes, I think that would look better."

Jeanne dropped the bra on their bed and strode sultrily across the room. She smiled inwardly as Joe followed her nipples as they bounced toward him. Retrieving a pair of light, tan, hose, she cocked an eyebrow and waited for Joe to nod his approval.

Sitting in a chair, Jeanne crossed her leg and removed one of her four-inch stiletto-heeled, open-backed, ankle-strapped white shoes and rolled the dark gray stocking down her honey brown leg. As always, Joe was amazed and delighted by the way his wife could, seemingly subconsciously, position the hem of her skirt so far up her leg and not reveal her panties. There was no doubt in his mind that less than an inch of white skirt protected her womanhood from his eyes.

Joe was completely hard now, watching his wife change her stockings. Should he attempt to change her plans? A few years ago, that wouldn't have been a question. But now that he'd failed to deliver the goods a few times, he was less confident than he'd been in his younger days. He knew that sooner or later, those customer reports would interrupt his thoughts limiting his abilities in other areas. Even now, he was losing firmness as he contemplated returning to his work.

Jeanne noticed. "Go ahead and get back to your work, honey," she told him, knowing he had become preoccupied. "I know how important they are. I'm a big girl, I can dress myself." She knew he didn't want to leave.

"I know, sweetheart, but you know how much I love to watch you when you're dressing sexy."

Jeanne had finished changing her stockings and was back at the bra she'd laid on the bed. "Do you think I should wear a bra?" It was a question without realistic alternatives. If it were up to her husband, Jeanne wouldn't own a bra. He knew they were necessary for her job but he practically forbade her from wearing them otherwise.

Jeanne wasn't large breasted (a "B" for those who require an identification using the morning beverage container standard) by any means, but she used what nature had provided her to her best advantage. Even at age forty-four, they were firm and buoyant without being hard. Like her husband, she preferred going without. Her nipples tilted upward and she could call them to attention whenever she pleased. It was as if she'd sent them to military school for tits.

Jeanne's jugs also benefited from the flat tummy from which they jutted. One of the delightful byproducts of a twenty-three inch waist is that any woman whose breast management wardrobe doesn't contain the word "training" as part of its description looks positively well endowed.

Jeanne held up a camisole before her so she could study the effect in the full-length mirror. It was her favorite color: pink. Turning toward Joe, she let one of the thin straps drop and cupped her exposed breast, clasping the distended nipple between her thumb and forefinger rolling it lightly and pulling it outward.

"So you think no bra, then?" she asked naughtily as the silk top slid over her creamy nakedness.

"You fucking, cock-teasing slut..."

"Is that a good thing?" Jeanne teased further blowing a puckered, Marilyn Monroe style air kiss to her husband.

Jeanne began holding up various panties and asking Joe's opinion.

"What about going au naturel?" Joe asked.

"Oh, I don't know," his wife sighed, "don't you think guys like it better when they see panties when they're flashed? Besides," she continued, sidling over to her husband and taking his hand, "I'm not sure I'm trimmed enough and I don't want to get the shaver back out. What do you think, Joe?"

Jeanne had used her cutest, little girl pout to goad Joe into brushing the back of his fingers against the quarter-inch, fine brown hairs of his wife's beautifully landscaped playground. Joe was ramrod hard once again and he could feel the wetness of pre-cum soaking his shorts. Jeanne spun away as her husband tried to insinuate a finger between her thighs carrying three pairs of panties with her.

"But why imagine when we can use direct evidence? You tell me which looks more exciting." Jeanne motioned Joe to the chair and sat on her make up stool. Carefully, she opened her legs so her husband could see for himself. She knew her teasing was merciless but he loved it when she behaved that way. She was also turning herself on and could feel the dampness as it began to coat her swelling labia.

Closing her legs, Jeanne stood and pulled on a bikini-style black silk item. Seated again, she parted her legs slightly for Joe's inspection.

"With or without?" Jeanne asked.

"With," Joe admitted, acknowledging what exotic dancers have always known. A stripper's most valuable assets are not those she exposes but those left to the customer's imagination.

Jeanne pulled off the black panties and shimmied into a pair of Victoria's Secret's best high cuts. Seated again, she invited Joe's gaze between her legs once again. "Pink or black?" she asked. Joe squirmed.

"I might need a second viewing," he stated with a broad smile on his face.

"Oh no you fucking don't," Jeanne threatened good-naturedly. "Pink or black?"

"I'm thinking," Joe stalled, "but quite a few of my red corpuscles are vacationing just south of my belt buckle at the moment and I'm having trouble collecting my thoughts."

"Need a little help?" Jeanne asked walking seductively on her knees over to where her husband sat and ran her hands up his thighs. Cupping his cock, she knew he was as hard as he got these days. She thought about doing what she was obviously offering but hesitated for two reasons.

To begin with, if she sucked Joe off right now, he'd lose immediate interest in her and she was enjoying teasing him. Second, and more importantly, if she began and Joe suffered one of his work/stress-related performance attacks, every bit of magic in the moment would deflate like an inner tube with its valve stem ripped out. After what happened last night, Joe didn't need another reminder that older men's cocks could be even more fragile than their egos.

"Mmmm, sweetheart, I'm ready to explode," Joe whispered, his heart throbbing as wildly as his dick at the thought of one of his wife's sweet, succulent blowjobs.

"Tough shit!" Jeanne shot back as she wiggled her ass on her way back to her stool. "I've got problems of my own. In case you've forgotten, I don't know what panties to wear," Jeanne concluded in her best vampy voice.

Sliding the pink panties off, she let one pair dangle from each of her index fingers. "Pink or black?" she asked her husband for the third time.

"Black..." Joe whispered with a deep sigh.

Grabbing the waistband of the pink panties she pulled it back like a sling shot and fired them at her husband who caught them like an eager Pirate's rookie in his first tour of the outfield.

"But what about these?" Jeanne asked unfurling a plaid string bikini bottom she'd kept hidden from her husband.

"Damn it, Jeanne, that's not fair! You know I have a weakness for plaid!"

"You poor dear," Jeanne mocked as she painstakingly pulled on what Joe jokingly called her kryptonite panties because they left him too feeble to move whenever he saw his wife dressed like an extra in a soft porn version of Braveheart.

With her undies in place, Jeanne replaced Joe in the chair. She decided to flash her plaid panties in a fashion she hadn't with the other two pair. Slowly she raised one leg and hooked it over the arm of the chair. The panties that protected her pussy were completely exposed as she let her husband ogle her crotch.

Moving her other leg upward, she hooked her knee over the other upholstered arm giving Joe a full-on gaping beaver shot. Sensuously, she rubber her hand over her almost exposed groin while looking at Joe's face and watching him swallow repeatedly.

Tracing her finger along her tartan-covered nether lips, she asked, "What do you think, Joe? Think they'll have any upholstered chairs in the bar tonight?"

Without waiting for him to answer, Jeanne flung her legs high into the air, crossing them at the knee before letting them settle to the floor. She rose, signaling that the show was over.

"Where are you going anyway?" Joe asked despite a throbbing, leaking hard on.

"One of the bars in Morgantown. I'm feeling a little cougarish."

"Arley going with you?"

"Those places make him feel too old so he "needs to watch the game." Samantha's going instead."

"What's she going to do?" Joe laughed derisively.

"Most likely dance a little. Then report back to Arley. He likes to hear about my serial cocksucking adventures as much as you do. He knows he'll have one hot little piece of ass when she gets back. Maybe you will too...if you finish those fucking quarterlies."