It's Only Fair Ch. 02

I went to open the door and was surprised to find it locked. "Damn it, Elle," I groused, fishing my keys out while I lightly jiggled Amber in my other arm. Twisting it in the lock, I hipped the door open and called out, "Honey, we're home!"

"Hey, Babe!" Elle called from the back room, the echo letting me know she was on the computer. "Oh my god, it's after 6! So sorry, I got wrapped up in here. I'll be out in a minute."

I looked at Amber and counted to five, keeping my expression calm and temper in check. It was a little harder as a look into the kitchen showed, as I suspected, that besides no dinner cooking or cooked, that there was once again, dishes in the sink. After another dozen heartbeats to ease the knot in my shoulders, I asked, "Any mail?"

"Didn't look. Should still be in the box."

"Fu..." this time I was barely able to keep myself from cursing. I carefully placed Amber in her rolling chair, giving her nose a tweak, and sent her scampering across the living room floor. I stepped back onto the porch and opened the box, taking out the Pennysaver and the three bills within. I dropped them on the counter, seeing nothing that needed my attention this instant, and walked into the kitchen. "I'm not fucking cooking," I mumbled under my breath as I grabbed the phone and called in a pizza to be delivered. From there I opened the dishwasher and roughly pulled out the rolling drawers, making the dirty dishes within clatter noisily.

As I was putting the crusty dishes into the washer, Elle came out from the back room and walked towards me. "I got it, honey."

I looked at her like she was nuts, eyes agog and mouth opened. "Really? Now you got it?" I pushed the drawers in and shut the door. "Thanks."

She grew irritated, eyes flashing, "Well not now, you came in like a tornado and didn't give me a chance."

"Get off it, Elle. I was at work all day."

"So was I!"

This was the crux of another problem I had been having with her. Since her 7^th month of pregnancy, Elle had been working freelance from home. Her company appreciated the artwork she did and did not want to lose her, but they needed someone who was going to able to work 9-5 as they required. So the work around had been to set her up with a system in the back bedroom/office here and she would both get and receive her work via Dropbox.

This meant that when she was home, she was also working. But her hours were more fluid and as long as she performed, her employer didn't care when she worked. So when I needed her to do laundry, or the dishes, or play with Amber, or make dinner, or anything - she was working. And once again, when I complained about the amount of work I was doing on maintaining the house and our family in relation to her efforts I was informed: that she did more than enough, this was the way it was, and if I had to do a bit more now then that's what I had to do it and it was only fair.

I bit the inside of my cheek and choked off my reply. "Ok. Got it," I sighed. "Don't want to fight, ok? I ordered a pizza, I don't think either of us want to cook now."

She seemed to calm down, but her eyes still had that stormy look in them, reminding me that this could blow up if I said the wrong thing. "Ok. Good thinking." She seemed pensive and then leaned in giving me a short hug and a simple kiss on my chin. "I'll set the table, go get changed."

I nodded my thanks and walked into the bedroom, scowling at the unmade bed. "For fuck's sake."

Hanging up my jacket I pulled the tie off my neck and quickly put on a grey tee and a set of sweatpants. I walked into the bathroom next and washed my hands. Turning I didn't see a towel but I knocked one of the fancy soaps off the side of the counter where it made a muffled thunk, falling next to the garbage. I shook my hands dry and picked up the dropped soap. In the trash I spotted at least 3 band-aid wrappers along with some cotton balls that this close I scented the acrid faded fumes of Isopropyl alcohol.

Reentering the kitchen I saw that Elle had set the table and was talking to Amber about what she wanted for dinner. It was going to be one of the what I called "between jar" foods that the kids were eating when they didn't have a full set of real teeth yet but pureed green beans weren't going to cut it anymore.

"Hey, Elle, you cut yourself today?"

"Why?"

I grabbed the Diet Coke from the fridge and poured myself a glass. "Dunno. Saw all the band-aid wrappers in the garbage can."

She shrugged, very intently looking at the baby food containers. "Nothing bad, really. Couple of papercuts from the Fex Ex mailer is all. Didn't even think of it." She lifted her right wrist and showed me the band-aids there along with her red marked skin.

I knew about the mailers, the office was littered with them. Her company sometimes had to send physical samples of art work to her for her to work on so the sharp edged cardboard envelopes often times stacked up. "Damn, honey," I said, "be careful. That looks horrible."

She smiled, only the corners of her lips turning up, "Thanks. It's ok, really."

The pizza came and we ate, Amber making a typical mess of her dinner. Elle excused herself to go back to the office to finish up whatever work she was doing earlier. This gave Amber and I a chance to take a bath followed by some horsing around in the living room and then a tuck in. I read the story, "Goodnight Moon," to her at least three times, the last one in a parody of Christopher Walken's version I had heard on TV. "Good night, Sunshine," I leaned forward and gave her a last kiss, tucking the blanket under her chin and leaving her to sleep.

I looked in the office and noticed that Elle was no longer working, instead she was playing World of Warcraft, taking her digital avatar out in the world to join some group. "Hey, honey, turn it off and come lie down with me."

She nodded at me, grunting in reply as she read the lines of text streaming across the chat box. "In a minute."

Eyes hardening, I shook my head and placed my hand over hers on the mouse, stopping her. "No, Elle. Come on. Now"

She whirled, and I could tell she was going to bitch at me, but something in my gaze made her pause and then the moment passed and she deflated. "Ok." She logged off and I watched, making sure she didn't get sidetracked in something else. From the set of her shoulders she could tell what I was doing and resented it. She walked past me to the bathroom and I followed. We brushed our teeth in companionable silence and as the minutes ticked by, an easy smile and playful back and forth developed.

She scooted behind me, rubbing herself against my ass as she did so with exaggerated slowness, before skipping away to the bedroom. I joined her right after, turning the hall light off and giving the front lock a last check. Elle was standing by her dresser, dropping her shorts to the floor and reaching for her sleeping shirt when I stopped her. "Leave it," I muttered, bending low to bury my nose in her hair and giving her earlobe a lick.

"Ri-ick," she answered, turning my name into two syllables. She squirmed her head to the side, breaking my tongue's contact with her ear. She placed one hand on my chest as if to push me away. I grabbed her fingers, twining them with mine and leaned in again, this time kissing her on the eyelids; one at a time.

"No, honey." She said, twisting a little to make my lips hit hers. "I'm not in the mood."

I kissed her a bit harder, tasting her chapstick and the freshness of the toothpaste she just used. My second hand snaked around her shoulders and pulled her closer to me, her shirt clad breasts pressing against my bare chest. I rubbed myself back and forth as I nibbled, sucked, kissed, and pulled at her mouth with my own; my efforts causing her to breathe harder and her own kisses to grow in intensity.

"Maybe not, but you're getting there," I replied kissing her once more before sluicing my tongue between her parted lips and between her teeth. She accepted my intruder before reaching down my stomach to grab my inflating arousal. Hearing me gasp, she gave two sharp yanks and then shoved her own tongue out at mine, the two of us dueling into each other's mouths.

I reached down to the hem of her shirt and lifted it off and over her head, breaking our make out session to do so. She in kind repaid the effort by sliding both of her hands into my sweatpants and skinning them down my legs. We then spent the next few minutes trying to extricate ourselves from our clothing while still maintaining mouth to mouth contact. We fell sideways into the bed and resumed our hungry devourings of each other's tongue.

"Oh, baby," she crooned as I spread her legs with my thigh, leaning myself down against her flushed body. She rejoined her attack on my mouth, licking me on the chin, cheeks, lips; anywhere she could get. I grabbed her left breast with my hand, kneading the soft flesh while my fingertips teased and flicked the hardening nipple. She gave a brief gasp, diving upwards in response to literally suck my tongue back into her mouth. I rolled her flesh between my thumb and middle finger while my other leg pushed her limbs open wider.

The scent of her arousal was filling the air, coupled with the hungry smacks and slobbering noises coming from both our mouths. I thrust myself at her slowly and rhythmically, feeling the head of my cock press about her moist opening. I kept this up for maybe a dozen or so thrusts until I felt my tip was fairly lubricated.

And then I hunched my hips forward, raised my knees slightly, and slid into my wife's hot central core. "Ahhh..." we sighed in unison. I pulled back an inch and then thrust forward again, getting deeper into her muscled channel. We had to break our lips' contact at this point, Elle grabbing me around the waist and placing her mouth against my shoulder. "So good," she drawled, eyes staring upward as I thrust again and again and again into her.

We kept up the rhythm for some time, my body held over hers by my locked arms, her ankles crossed behind the back of my knees, my cock pulsing again and again inside of her warm welcoming pussy as I made love with my wife. She would often reach up to pull me down for an awkward kiss or to lick my chin whenever she couldn't reach my lips. Our coupling continued, speeding up ever so slowly, my hips thrusting my rigid member in and out of her with inexorable mounting pleasure. She lifted her own body again and again, receiving my impalement with pelvic thrusts of her own.

We were breathing in ragged gasps and then like a rusty twisting deep inside the base of my soul, my orgasm hit and I blasted over two weeks worth of semen into my wife's eager uterus. "Aggghhh!" I snarled, my legs cramping up and I felt my balls tighten and my cock erupted. Three, four...five times in successively lesser pulses, I emptied myself until on shaking limbs I lowered myself down onto my wife's quivering body.

A quick look showed me she hadn't quite reached her own plateau yet so I pulled myself out, lay on her side, and plunged my right hand down to her sodden flesh and began working her clit back and forth in rapid forceful hand movements.

"Rick, Rick," she gasped, her own spine arching as her pleasure began racing its own way up to release, "don't...it's ok, really, Oh my god!" the last was exclaimed as I sucked her entire left tit into my mouth, running my tongue across her nipple with the same speed and intensity might right hand was plowing her pussy.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh MY GOD! RIIIIICCCKK!!" She cried as her orgasm overtook her and she spasmed uncontrollably beneath me. I continued to munch on her breast while my flailing hand tried to maintain its place against her fevered nether region. Each time I encountered her engorged clit or rubbed my fingers the right way, she would lift herself off again, hissing in ecstasy as another flare fired off behind her eyes.

Eventually she grew weary and couldn't pull herself off the bed anymore. She grabbed my hand and pulled it away from her very sloppy pussy, muttering, "No more, no more. It's too much. Too much today. No more, honey." She then gently lifted my head off her breast and brought it up to kiss my lips. "That, Mr. Masters, was absolutely wonderful."

I smiled in the dark, kissing her back, before settling my head down on her chest. I could hear her heart beating wildly under her ribs, but even I could tell it was slowing as her adrenaline, and mine, bled away. "Anytime, sweetheart."

We sighed together, holding one another, until sleep came and claimed us both.

I awoke some time later, my neck sore from the awkward angle I was lying in, and my crotch scratchy from the dried juices of our lovemaking. I looked at the clock, 1:36, and gave Elle a kiss on her sleeping neck. She groaned in her sleep and I dimly saw a smile as I pulled the blanket up over her body.

Naked, I walked to the bathroom and let loose a stream of urine into the bowl. Not wanting to wake anyone up, I shut the door and flushed. In the mirror I looked at myself; I still appeared tired, but not as 'exhausted' as I had been feeling. "Too late for a shower," I thought. I reached for a washcloth from the pile over the toilet and proceeded to take what I had called a 'Cowboy bath': cleaning my crotch and cock with the warm wet washcloth.

I went to dry myself when I noticed that there were still no towels on the shelf. "Damn it, Elle." Maybe it was unfair of me to complain after a nice loving session but it had been too many weeks and one 'cumming' didn't erase the problems that I was sensing from my wife. I took the dirty washcloth with me and made my way to the basement stairs, flipping the light on as I padded my way down to the washer and dryer. As I had suspected, the load I had done before going away to LA the other day was still down here and even though I had asked her to do it, my wife did not fold the laundry for me or put it away.

I went to the basket, my crotch cold and my cock seeming to shiver in its dampness with the chill down here, and took out a clean towel. I rubbed myself both dry and warm and sighed contentedly. I turned to leave and stopped for a moment, something else in the basement catching my attention.

I flipped on the second light, lighting the rest of the basement floor and saw something by the support column that had attracted my gaze. It was a black velveteen bag maybe a little larger than my hand. I didn't remember seeing it before, and given how much I prided myself on being organized, I was not in the habit of leaving anything to litter the floor. I picked it up and my wife's name, "Elle," was written on the outside of the back in silvery paint marker. But it was the contents that I wondered about. Something inside. Something with some weight. Something metallic.

Not sure what I was going to find, I dumped it out, spilling the contents into my hand. And in doing so, it raised only more questions to my troubled mind. Questions like, What the hell was this? Why was it in my house? Why was it in my basement? Where did they come from? What the fuck was going on?

And

What was Elle doing with a pair of fucking handcuffs?