Life with Rick and Jane

I think this one is a little better than my last submission. Please let me know if you like it.

Rick stared at the computer screen in wonder, swept off in a river of thoughts. His mind reeled over the desire for Jane Preston to actually be as she described herself in her bio. And he was simultaneously filled with another sensation, which was probably envy. Rick felt envious of the people that did as they wanted to without fear of judgment.

In life Rick had always tried to follow his own path, and considered himself to be a fairly uninhibited person. But after reading about a person like Jane Preston he suddenly felt different: conservative and afraid. He had been married for several years and still loved his wife, but somehow things had slowed down. Maybe things had never really been that fast, but he remembered there used to be a quality of excitement. Their relationship at one time contained risk and abandon, but at some point those components seemed to have been…abandoned. His wife Amanda was still willing to have sex, but never with any spirit of exploration. With her it was a “by the numbers” routine, which ended with her orgasm. She seemed contented with that arrangement and never demonstrated any initiative in the bedroom. In many way’s Rick was glad that Amanda seemed sexually satisfied, because he truly wanted her to feel happy and safe. As a result he’d tried to pull himself away from his own longings and sense of dissatisfaction.

Rick threw himself into a daily routine that was both an occupation and a distraction. Every morning he would wake up with Amanda and see her off to work. Next he would spend twenty minutes stretching and working out, followed by a light breakfast. And then with coffee in hand he would sit down in front of the blessed, infernal computer and spend the day trying to write. He would work on “job-type work” first, followed by “art-type work”. Of course the “job-type work” was predictable and tedious, but it was that which allowed him to spend time doing the “art-type work”, or more accurately…trying to do the “art-type work”. Rick would spend hours starting sentences, deleting words and pacing around the room pretending to smoke. Since he’d quit smoking he would pantomime with an empty Zippo and half a pencil. It was pretty pathetic. All this lasted for about a month, and then he caved in.

One day while taking an e-mail break, Rick decided to do a little porn surfing. He started by doing a search, and then just bounced around for a while, eventually landing at some big time professional sites. He took their tours and quickly found that they didn’t do much for him, so he left in search of something else. He didn’t know what it was, but he kept looking anyway. Occasionally he would stumble across an image that would cause a stir around his crotch, but for the most part he wasn’t having much luck. As a teenager he’d discovered that in order to enjoy pornography you had to suspend your disbelief. And for him even though the “actors” were actually fucking, they were doing it for money and that somehow rendered it false, and for Rick that was not unlike a bucket of cold water. He suddenly felt defective.

“Am I the only idiot who intellectualizes pornography? Jesus, I just wanna scratch Yoda behind the ears.” Rick spoke out loud.

He’d even set a roll of toilet paper nearby incase he found something worth masturbating to. “Maybe I’ll check the e-mail again.” Rick clicked on an icon, which brought him to his mail-server.

While casually examining the homepage Rick made an observation. “How come I never noticed all this?” The homepage offered many features, including various ‘online profiles’. “I wonder who does this?” Rick questioned while clicking on the profiles menu. A search option quickly appeared. After examining the form Rick filled in a few of the fields:

gender: female

age: 25-35

keywords:

Rick considered this for a moment, wrestling with mixed emotions. “Should I indulge my private pervert?” He pondered for a breath or two, and then made a compromise. ”I’ll indulge it a little.” He said and for keywords he typed “slut.”

Rick felt a stir of excitement as a new page opened up, displaying a dozen screen names. “Wow.” He dumbly spoke. While sitting up with interest he clicked on the name “SLUT-4-U”, anxiously awaiting the new page.

The page opened filling the screen, and was adorned by a large picture of “Slut-4-u”. Rick’s mouth hung open as he stared at the image. She was a beautiful twenty-six year old woman, wearing a garter belt and sitting spread eagle on a bed. Her facial expression matched her screen name.

“She can’t be for real.” Rick spoke to himself in disbelief, continuing on to read her bio: I am a 26-year-old bi-sexual woman, looking for safe and fun encounters with the right people. Send me a picture and maybe we’ll get to know each other.

“This can’t be real.” Rick insisted to himself. “Women aren’t really like that. They only exist in pornography made by men. It’s gotta be a scam.” In a flash Rick felt his entire sexual understanding rush through him. It occurred to him that the boundaries he had always assumed applied to everyone…might not. Anxiously he began to explore the profiles trying to refute his discovery. He did more searches, which including new (and for Rick, taboo) keywords (like anal dikes & lesbian twins with strap-ons) and he continued to find listing for “real people”, and with each affirmation his prick rose until he had to undo his zipper. For the sake of masturbation on most days he would achieve a ‘serviceable’ hard-on, but at that moment he had achieved a ‘fucking’ hard-on. Intermittently Rick would jerk his engorged meat, between mouse clicking and typing, and caring not to transfer any pre-cum from the dripping head of his cock to his keyboard. Many hours passed, and eventually his front door opened.

“Hi honey.” Amanda called from the front room, relieved to be home. All she wanted to do was have a bath and then watch television with a little bowl of ‘Chunky Monkey’ ice cream.

“Hey babe” Rick said while walking out from his workroom, having successfully hidden any signs of jerking off. He gave Amanda a kiss. “How was your day?”

“Exhausting. I’m gonna get in the tub.” She answered while walking towards the bathroom.

“You want something to eat?” Rick called after her.

“ No thanks hon.” Amanda answered over her shoulder, closing the bathroom door behind her. She’d been looking forward to this all day, to be alone and soaking in the bathtub. She really did appreciate Rick’s offer to cook but she didn’t have any extra energy to show it. What energy she did have she had been saving for herself all day.

Amanda turned the faucets on and left the tub to fill. With a sigh she stood in front of the floor length mirror and carefully removed her hair from its braid. The light of the bathroom shone off of her blonde waves, singling out the one gray hair that she’d been trying to ignore, and reflexively she sighed again. As she undid the buttons of her blouse Amanda reflected on how she had been sighing a lot lately. Especially when she thought about how Rick had yet to have any real success. For a moment she found herself being swept into her old fear that they didn’t have any real security, but with a sigh she allowed her thoughts to go somewhere else.

She examined her breasts thinking to herself that they still looked nice, especially in the bra she was wearing. Rick had given it to her on Valentines Day last year, black satin and lace with a front clasp. For someone with no fashion sense, Rick had picked a pretty good bra. She was wearing the matching panties, and decided to have a look at the whole ensemble. She removed her skirt, shoes and panty hoes and stood plainly in front of the mirror.

“My thighs look big.” Amanda thought with annoyance. She turned to look at herself from the side. “They look better in profile.” She thought and then turned her backside to the mirror. She looked over her shoulder, examining herself. She wasn’t displeased.

“Not bad.” She whispered while subtly pushing her ass out. Light glinted off the satin panties accentuating the curves of her nicely rounded ass, and Amanda felt inspired to gyrate her hips. She placed both palms on her rear and gently squeezed while quietly cooing. After a moment she bent down to the floor, looking back at her upside down reflection. Through the satin Amanda traced the contours of her pussy, whispering to herself “Is that what you look like under your clothes?” Amanda enjoyed the sensation of her interior circulations, feeling her blood simultaneously rushing north and south. Just as moisture was beginning to expand through her panties, she remembered the bathtub and slowly straightened up to check the water level.

Rick had left his workroom door ajar so he could easily hear when Amanda left the bathroom. He never knew exactly how long she would spend in the tub, but in the past she’d gone anywhere from fifteen minutes to two hours. For now he felt confident that he could hide his activities before she could get from the bathroom to his workroom. He wasn’t even sure he needed to hide anything, but he felt uncertain and a little embarrassed about what he was doing so he chose to conceal it. He hated lying, and found a way to rationalize it by selling himself on the old “what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her” and “I’m not doing anything.”

Rick had discovered an on-line profile that had captured him with its irresistible intrigue. The screen name was “SMART TOUGH SLUT”, which was the moniker for a woman named Jane Preston. She was thirty-two years old, and under occupation she wrote “Zen subversive jezebel”. Her bio had Rick hypnotized as he read it for the third time:

The definition of the word ‘slut’ is subjective, based on the intention of the person saying it. Regarding sex my attitude is “take it or leave it”, and that’s what I do. But when I take it…be prepared. I’m bisexual and am interested in a (m/f) couple to satisfy (me and them). The man must be willing to control himself while he watches me penetrate his woman with my strap-on cock, in her pussy and her tight little asshole. And he must have the stamina to maintain that control while she does the same to me. After that…we’ll see where it goes. I’ll only answer e-mail, which contain photos of both people.

The picture of Jane had sealed it in Rick’s mind. It was an image of her wearing a leather bra and panties, with a cigarette dangling from her lips and the strap-on cock she’d mentioned protruding from her crotch.

Amanda was no prude but Rick knew there was no way in hell she would go for it. He wasn’t even sure that he could go for it or even what “going for it” meant, but for the moment it was a pleasant fantasy to imagine contacting this incredible woman. Rick reflected on his sexual knowledge of Amanda. She had claimed to like anal sex, but Rick honestly never knew what about it got her off. He wondered if she got off on the fact that he was getting off, or if she genuinely liked a dick up her ass. And on the occasions Rick had openly talked about his (stereo-typically male) fantasy of having a three way, Amanda had admitted that she was attracted to women, but not enough to do anything about it. Reality crashed in on Rick and he knew it was just a pipe dream.

“We’re too normal.” Rick spoke with quiet disappointment. “Still, I can fantasize.” He said while opening his folder of pictures. He looked at the photos of himself and Amanda from her cousins wedding. “We’re a good looking couple. We both stay in shape. And we’re not too old yet. We should have a fucking adventure.” Rick whispered, feeling full of dangerous excitement. “What harm would an E-mail do? E-mail with one little picture. Nothing’s going to happen anyway.” Rick sat in conflict, staring at the monitor.

Amanda closed her eyes while fingering her clit in slow circles, causing little whirlpools in the bathwater. She was thinking about the new office temp she had trained today; a girl named Melissa. “Her energy was so spontaneous and positive.” Amanda thought.

“And that little skirt fit so…nicely” Amanda whispered while imagining tugging it down. She could picture that ripe little peach of an ass; decorated with the green thong Amanda had caught a glimpse of when Melissa’s skirt had momentarily crept down. If it was a permanent employee it would have been considered wholly inappropriate attire, but in the case of a temp they looked the other way. Amanda definitely hadn’t looked the other way. In fact she’d become transfixed on Melissa’s little rear end, so nicely displayed in her mini skirt. And Melissa’s perky little tits (with occasional nipple erections) presented beautifully in her cute green top. There was one point in the day when Amanda was certain that Melissa was flirting with her. They were sitting together at a desk while Amanda was explaining to Melissa the workload she could expect. Melissa joked, “So I guess there’s no time for web surfing?” And with a giggle she ran her hand over Amanda’s forearm. Amanda was able to chuckle and continue her explanation, but she was quietly struggling to conceal that the little touch had shot straight to her clitoris. At the time Amanda had been nervous that Melissa might have smelled her arousal. In retrospect she found herself wishing that Melissa had. Amanda had retained that energy for the rest of the day, waiting for this moment. Now she had increased her speed and was feverishly rubbing her clit while simultaneously working two fingers into her pussy. She imagined Melissa’s smiling face between her legs, tonguing her firm clit while pushing in a finger or three, maybe giggling or even talking dirty. “Sweet pussy.” She imagined Michelle’s voice saying with pleasant enthusiasm. “Now you’re gonna eat my pussy too.” Michelle commanded and Amanda pictured herself and Michelle in the sixty-nine position giving each other head. Amanda could feel that she was close to coming and was trying to decide whether to let it go right now, or to ride the fantasy out a little longer. After a short moment she decided let it go.

“Oooooo.” Amanda moaned in a whisper, knowing that she didn’t want Rick to hear anything. It was a private moment, her orgasm, just for her. Her hips began bucking reflexively to the waves of pleasure coursing through her nerves, while her vaginal muscles flexed and contracted around her fingers. She struggled to stifle her voice as waves kept coming for what seemed like a long time, and then they finally passed.

After the glow, Amanda rinsed off and pulled the plug, and for the moment she left her sex with the bathwater. She felt like she could watch TV now.

Rick had decided against sending the E-mail, and set it aside for a while. He’d selected what he considered to be a flattering photo of himself and Amanda and copied it into a folder with a link to the Jane Preston profile. He named the folder “back taxes” and left it on the desktop, retreating to the living room with a mild sense of defeat. Not a moment had passed before Amanda joined him, wearing her robe and running a comb through her wet hair. She kissed him on the cheek.

“What do you wanna do?” She asked.

“Smoke pot and watch a movie.” Rick replied.

END OF PART ONE