Hot Sex Instead of Dancing Ch. 06

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Too tired to go out to a movie or dancing, Walter didn't want to go anywhere with his wife. If he was going to go anywhere at all, he'd rather go somewhere, anywhere with Tiffany.

"Walter! Walter! Wake up! You were sleeping," said Linda, Walter's wife.

Kicking his foot and awakening from his dream of having sex with Bill's beautiful wife, Tiffany, giving him a blowjob, he couldn't believe that Linda ruined his sexual fantasy before he could cum in Tiffany's beautiful mouth. Sexually frustrated, he needed to masturbate.

"I wasn't sleeping," he said yawning. "I was just resting my eyes."

"Resting your eyes my ass. You have an erection," said Linda. "You dreaming of Tiffany again?"

She looked over at the living room window where Tiffany was in her kitchen and in her skimpy nightgown washing her floor.

"Tiffany? You're nuts," he said.

Shit! How in the Hell does she know he dreams of Tiffany? Maybe he talks in his sleep? Maybe she found the video of Tiffany on his computer where she lost her top at the waterpark. He must have watched that 20 second footage a thousand times. He wish Linda had tits like her tits. He wished Linda looked more like Tiffany. He wished he was married to Tiffany instead of to Linda.

"I'm nuts? I know what you down here while pretending to watch TV. You watch Tiffany while masturbating yourself and wishing she was naked. You wish you could have sex with her instead of having sex with me, your wife," she said.

He made a face at her and waved a hand of disbelief.

"Tiffany? God, Linda. How can you even say that? Tiffany is the wife of my best friend. Besides, I'd never dream of other women when I have you. You're more woman that I can handle," he said with a phony smile. "All men get erections when they sleep. It's just a natural occurrence," he said.

She looked at him and made a sour face of her own.

"It's Friday night. Let's go somewhere and do something tonight Walter," said Linda with a look of excitement on her face. "I want to go somewhere. I want to do something," she said wrapping her arms around her body as if giving herself a hug.

Walter looked at his wife with one eye while watching Tiffany with the other. Sometimes, especially at a time like this, he wished he was single. He wished he lived alone. Wishing he never married, was separated, divorced, or a widower, he wished he was only responsible for himself. Being married longer than he was single, he wondered what it feel like to be single again and to live alone. He wished they had children that she could fuss over and busy herself with instead of always busting his balls in wanting to go somewhere and do something. He wished he was married to Tiffany.

"Not tonight Linda," he said without even looking up at her.

He could feel her burning a hole in his head with her heated stare. As if her eyes were hot, twin laser beams that threatened to set him ablaze if he didn't take her somewhere and do something with her, he wished he had a soundproof driving helmet to wear at times like this.

"Please? Pretty please? I'm bored," she said. When she said please, pretty please, he thought of Tiffany begging him to fuck her. His cock ached by the thought of Linda awakening him before Tiffany had a chance to finish her blowjob. He would have liked to end his sexual dream of her by cumming in her willing mouth. "I wanna go out. I wanna do something exciting," she said kicking his foot again.

Bored? She's bored. I'm tired and she's bored. What kind of excitement did I have working all week? Maybe it's time she got a job. Maybe it's time she stopped hanging around the house, talking on the phone to her friends, watching soap operas, and drinking Long Island ice teas. The economy is picking up now and with her unemployment extension ended, it's time for her to join the rest of the working world.

Looking forward to coming home, all he wanted to do was to flop in his chair in front of the TV with a beer. Is it any wonder why his friends go for drinks at the bar before heading home? With a couple of pops under his belt, he wouldn't even hear her complaining. With a couple of pops under his belt, he wouldn't care that she was bored. Now that he was sitting in his chair in front of the TV with his beer, the kitchen was the only place he was going to go to get another beer. The only thing he'll be doing tonight is drinking more beer while watching TV. Then, as soon as Linda retired to bed, he'd be watching Tiffany.

"I'm tired Linda. It's been a Hell of a week at the mill. I just want to relax with a beer and watch some TV, if you don't mind," he said flipping stations.

Same old, same old, here we go again, he thought to himself. Knowing full well what was coming next, as if he was bracing for a bombing assault, he started the count down, three, two, one...

"You don't take me anywhere," she said.

Blah, blah, blah, just shut the Hell up and let me watch TV, he wanted to say but didn't. He didn't want this turning into another argument where she's pouring his beer in the sink and down the drain.

"That's not true. I take you plenty of places," he said.

She made another sour face.

"When? Where?" She looked at him with anger. "When did you take me anywhere? Where did you take me?"

With the beer already working its weaving magic in paralyzing his brain, he had to take a moment to think.

"Just last Saturday I took you to Home Depot," he said unable to come up with a satisfactory answer.

As soon as he said Home Depot, he kicked himself for even saying that. Even he didn't think taking her to Home Depot was a date. Yet, they did have a hot dog at the hot dog stand outside. Moreover, something they both do less of when staring at the TV, they did talk in the car on the way there and on the way home. The trip to the hardware store wasn't without its merits. At least they went out and went somewhere together while talking, laughing, and bonding.

"I don't consider going to Home Depot a night on the town Walter," she said.

He didn't think she would. She already had a tone to her voice. Sometimes, in the way he wished now, he wished she had a boyfriend. He imagined her kissing him goodnight as she went out the door with some gigolo to go dancing. He'd love nothing better than to swap wives with Bill. Only, why would Bill want Linda when he had Tiffany and why would Tiffany want him when she had Bill? Still, it was a sexual fantasy that he enjoyed pondering.

'Bye! Have fun. Do everything that I wouldn't do,' he imagined saying to her when she was leaving on her imagined date with her boyfriend.

Instead he looked at her and smiled while bracing himself for another argument.

"I thought you had fun looking at the paint chips and wallpaper," he said carefully and with trepidation while knowing that he was already skating on thin ice.

Actually, she did enjoy looking at wallpaper and paint chips. Only he was surprised she didn't buy anything. He was surprised she didn't want to redecorate something while enlisting him to do all of the work. He was surprised they didn't stay there for three hours while she looked at all the new appliances, carpet colors, and wallpaper patterns. He was surprised she didn't sit with one of the kitchen remodelers to plan out their new kitchen that they don't need and can't afford.

"I did have fun at Home Depot but walking around a hardware store isn't what I had in mind," she said.

Oh, oh. There's that tone again. Here it comes. He put down his newspaper to look at her. The next time he's in the sporting goods store he'll buy a football helmet to wear for times like this. He imagined wearing a helmet over his Bose, noise reduction headphones.

'What's that Honey? Sorry, I can't hear you,' he imagined saying to her while sipping his beer, watching TV, and while raising the volume on his headphones.

Without a doubt, he'd listen to her more if only she looked better than she did. Not that she was a bad looking woman, she was a good looking woman but compared to Tiffany, she was chopped liver when Tiffany was filet mignon. He'd hang off her every word if only she looked more like Tiffany.

Only he wished she was ten years younger. He wished she was black with bigger tits, a D cup instead of a B cup. He wished she was prettier. He wished she loved giving him blowjobs instead of expecting him to reciprocate by eating her and making love to her before fucking her. He wished she would just stop talking and allow him to zone out in front of the TV. He wished he was married to Tiffany.

Feeling compelled to ask, he knew he'd be sorry as soon as he asked her the question. In the way she looked at him, he knew she wanted to go dancing, to the movies, and out to eat after. He knew that she wanted a night on the town. With him not home until midnight, he'd be dead tired and no doubt would fall asleep in the cinema.

"What did you have in mind?"

She stood while waltzing over to him.

"Dancing. Let's go dancing Walter? We used to go dancing all the time," she said. "We haven't gone dancing in such a very long time. Take me dancing. Please? Pretty please?"

Dancing? With his tired legs and bad back the last thing he wanted to do was to go dancing, especially on a Friday night after working all week. The only energy he has left is to twist of the cap of another beer. Only, if he was married to Tiffany, he'd be taking her dancing. He wouldn't care how tired he was, he'd be waltzing her across the dance floor.

"I used to take you dancing all the time when I was trying to get in your panties and have sex with you," he said. "Another lifetime ago, those days are long over," he said with a little, sad laugh.

He remembered feeling her ass and groping her breasts while dancing with her. She was so very pretty back then, the prettiest girl in the neighborhood. Everyone wanted her. She was so very hot. He remembered how sexually excited he was to hold her while feeling the top of her ass and while rubbing his growing erection against her soft belly. Now he couldn't remember the last time he had sex with her. Now not in the mood for sex, his energy level was down. Now he realized why there were so many Viagra and Cialis commercials on TV directed at men like him. Unable to sometimes get it up, unless he was masturbating himself, he hated to admit it but he was one of those men.

"How about we go see a movie? Can we at least do that? There are some good movies playing at the cinema. You can even pick the movie. I don't really care what we see as long as you take me somewhere and do something," she said. "We don't have to see a chick flick. You can see whatever shoot 'em, blow and 'em up you want. Okay? Please? Pretty please?"

She looked at him with sad eyes in the way she did when she was laid off from her job. He felt so bad for her that day that he told her not to worry about working. He told her, for better or for worse, that he'd support her for the rest of her life. Especially now that he was sexually enthralled and emotionally enamored with Tiffany, he must have been drunk or crazy to have said that.

"I'm sorry but I'm not up to seeing a movie Linda," he said.

Now he felt like a shit heel for disappointing her. He felt guilty for not wanting to take her somewhere nice while wishing he could take Tiffany someplace nice. If she was Tiffany, he'd take her somewhere and do something with her. Yet, with Linda dedicating her life to him, how could he be so insensitive to her needs when she's been so giving to his needs? What has Tiffany ever done for him other than to look hot?

"You used to always take me to a movie. When we went to the movies, we made out more than we watched the movie," she said with a dirty laugh.

He remembered those days of kissing and kissing her in the back row of the movie theatre. He remembered the sexual excitement he felt when feeling her tits through her blouse and bra before sticking his hand up her short skirt to finger her pussy through her panty. He remembered unbuttoning her blouse and unhooking her front snapping bra to expose her B cup breasts to his horny hands and eyes. Then, while fingering her nipples, he felt someone watching them.

When he turned there was always some man, an older man, leaning against the half wall behind them while looking down at them and watching them having sex. Seemingly, she didn't care that she was giving some stranger a show of her tits. Seemingly, she seemed sexually excited that a stranger was seeing what only she's allowed him to see. Going to the movie and flashing her semi-naked body to another man was the most sexual fun he's ever had with her.

He always wanted to suggest that they try the swinging lifestyle but not wanting her to think him perverted, never suggesting it, he never even asked her the question. Still, he wouldn't mind watching her having sex with other men. It would be sexy fun to watch her having sex with a woman too. He wondered if it would sexually excite her to watch him having sex with another woman in the way that it would sexually excite him to watch her having sex with another man.

"I don't want to go to a movie. I don't want to go out," he said.

Only he wouldn't mind going to a movie if he could replicate that sexy scene they had with a stranger so long ago. Back then she was younger, hotter, and more beautiful. Now the only looks of interests she receives are from his friends and from the younger, horny guys at the mall who wonder what it's like to be with an older woman in the way he used to wonder what it would be like to be with an older woman. Now that he's older and with him living with an older woman, albeit a woman his age, he wonders what it would be like to be with a younger woman. He wonders what it would be like to be with Tiffany.

"C'mon Walter. I'll even wear my low cut, button top and my front snapping bra. I'll wear my short skirt, the one that buttons in front, and with no panties. We'll give some guy a show of my naked body while you finger my nipples as you slide your other hand between my legs to finger my pussy," she said feeling her own breasts through her blouse and bra while fingering her nipples.

Tempted by her willingly agreeing to flash a man her tits and pussy, it was obvious to him that she was horny but those days of him being horny are gone, long gone. Not only didn't he have the sexual interest but also he didn't have the physical energy to give someone a show of his wife's body while making out with her at the movies. In the way he couldn't wait to make out with her years before, he couldn't even imagine making out with her now.

If he took the time and the trouble to take his wife to the movies, he'd just want to watch the movie without making out and without exposing her body to someone. If he was taking her to a movie that he picked and wanted to watch, the last thing he wanted to do was to make out with his wife. He'd rather munch on popcorn and eat a box of Raisinets while drinking a giant soda. If he was taking anyone to a movie, he'd rather take Tiffany to a movie. He'd rather make out with her.

Wishing that he wasn't married and wishing that he was a younger man with more hair and less of a potbelly, if he had his pick of women, he'd rather take Joyce to the movies, his hot, young co-worker. Only someone like her would never go out with someone like him. Besides, he was too tired to do anything. He just wanted to stay home and crash. He just wanted to watch Tiffany clean her kitchen and masturbate himself after Linda went to bed.

"Another time Linda. I'm too tired. I've had a long week," he said.

Oh, God. She's not going to stop until he takes her somewhere and does something with her. Sometimes he wished he never got married. Sometimes he wished he was still single. Sometimes he wished he had married someone else. Sometimes he wished he was a gay man. He counted to himself again. Three, two, one...

"You don't take me anywhere anymore," she said.

Here we go. It's the same argument every weekend. He's not in the door ten minutes and she's already starting the same shit. She needs a hobby. Maybe he should buy her a dog. Definitely, he needs to buy himself a football helmet.

"I promise, I'll take you somewhere next week," he said. "Okay?" He looked up at her and smiled and she looked at him as if she was ready to stab him.

He ran all the places he could take her through his mind, the bar, the hockey game, the auto show, the lumberyard, the gun show, the baseball card show, the model train show, the Army/Navy store, the antique auto museum, or Home Depot again. A typical woman, she wouldn't like going to any of those places. Knowing her as he does, she'd rather traipse around the flea market for hours and bring home more junk that she calls a valuable antique and that he has clean and repair. Knowing her, after endlessly walking around the flea market, she'd want to go to the mall or someplace nice for dinner and dancing afterwards. Once again he counted. Three, two, one...

"We don't do anything," she said. "We don't even have sex anymore."

There it is. She's playing the sex card. As if didn't feel bad enough, as if she hit him to the back of the head with a baseball bat, and as if she just kicked him in the balls, she insulted who he is as a man. Sex? Is that what this is about? She wants sex? He imagined stripping her naked, bending her over the dining room table and fucking her pussy hard and fast in the way that he used to be able to do and in the way he imagined doing to Tiffany's naked body.

If only he was as fit as Lance Armstrong, maybe he wouldn't be as tired. If only he had access to performance enhancing drugs in the way of A-Rod, he'd take her up on her offer of having sex. If only she looked more like Penny instead of Amy Farrah Fowler on Big Bang theory, he'd be banging her every night. If only she was a blue-eyed blonde with big tits in the way of Scarlet Johansson, he'd take her somewhere nice. If only she was a beautiful brunette in the way of sexy and shapely Sofia Vergara, he'd do something exciting with her. If only she was a busty, black beauty in the way of Tiffany, he'd not only would want to have sex with her but also would look forward to having sex with her. If only he was married to Tiffany, he'd have sex with her every night. Frustrated with himself, instead of getting his ass out of his chair, he lashed out at her.

"I just want to read my God damn newspaper, watch TV, and drink my beer Linda. I'm tired," he said. "I'm really tired."

He looked at her with anger. He looked at her with frustration. He looked at her as if he was sliding down the other side of a mountain while she was still standing on the top of the mountain screaming at him to do something, go somewhere, and have sex. He looked at her while wishing he was Bill and she was Tiffany.

"You're always tired," she said. "C'mon get up. I want to go somewhere, anywhere. I want to do something exciting. If you don't want to go out, if you don't want to take me dancing or to a movie, then I want to have sex. Let's have sex," she said kicking his foot again.

In the way he looked at her angry more with himself than with her, she looked at him with sexual frustration. Something he would have jumped at twenty years ago, ten years ago, even five years ago, a good looking broad wanting to have sex with him, here was his wife practically begging him to bang her. Only, he was too tired. In order to shut her the Hell up and in order to sexually satisfy her, he'd have to do the only thing he could think of doing. He'd have to humor her by giving her what she wants, an orgasm or two or three. Whatever it takes for her to stop talking and to stop nagging him, he'd have to do what he did last month.

"You want to do something exciting? You want to have sex? Is that what you want?" He looked at her over his newspaper before he tossed his paper on the coffee table.