My Wife

A cold rain was falling, slow but steady, as I drove home that night.

Even though it was almost 7:30, the traffic on the expressway was horrendous, probably because of the weather and the fact that it was Friday, with everyone trying to get out of town for the weekend.

I wasn't surprised. The heavy stop-and-go traffic, which I absolutely abhor, was fitting for the kind of week it had been. Nothing had gone right, either at the office or at home.

I'm a vice president for a major manufacturing company in a large Midwestern city, and while it pays me very well and allows me to enjoy a fairly affluent lifestyle, it comes with big responsibilities. And it seemed like those responsibilities had put me squarely in the line of fire from a number of directions.

The week had started with a bad accident at one of our plants that had left three workers seriously injured. Not only did I have the stress of that weighing on me, but I'd had to face a rather contentious media barrage, as if they were trying to blame the company for what had happened.

It was indeed possible we were somehow at fault, but we wouldn't know anything until we conducted an investigation, and the press thought that sounded evasive.

Exacerbating the situation was the fact that our contract with the union was due to expire in a couple of months, and negotiations weren't going well. We faced the real prospect of a strike, something we had managed to avoid for almost 25 years.

Then on Wednesday, we had gotten word that testing on the prototype for a new product my department was developing had not gone well. It hadn't failed exactly, but it had not performed the way we had hoped.

That had resulted in a stern sit-down with the CEO on Thursday, who told us – me, my boss and my assistants – that our jobs could be on the line here, because the company had spent a lot of money developing and promoting this product, and failure was not an option.

So I had worked very late that night, trying to figure out why it hadn't worked like it was supposed to, and as a result I had missed my daughter's dance recital. That had led to a rather heated exchange with my wife, who accused me of putting my work ahead of my family, something I had vowed would never happen.

And things had not gone well with her even before that.

Olivia had been on her period the first part of the week, so she was moody, and we'd been a little snippy with each other all week, anyway. She teaches sixth-graders at the local middle school, so she has plenty of stress in her job, same as I do, and it seemed like we'd been taking out our frustrations on each other.

We've been married for 17 years, and we love each other quite intensely, but when you've been together as long as we have, love takes some work, and lately we had gotten lazy in expressing our affection for each other.

Trust me when I say that it's worth the effort. Olivia is absolutely gorgeous, with penetrating brown eyes, shoulder-length brunette hair, cut in tapered bangs in front. Her lips are full and her nose unobtrusive.

But her best feature, by far, the one feature that everyone first notices about her are her breasts. I am not exaggerating when I say that she's got the biggest, most succulent pair of tits I've ever had the pleasure of getting my mouth on.

She's a little taller than average and well built, without an ounce of excess anywhere – except for those tits. My God, are they wonderful. They're a pillowy pair of 36Es that every man who's ever met her just drools over.

And that's not all. Her trim legs meet at the junction of one of the juiciest pussies a man could ever want. She's got a thick set of labia that seem to beckon like the gates of heaven when she gets hot, and she gets hot a lot. She's half-Italian by birth, and she's got a fiery nature, especially when it comes to sex. The whole effect is framed by a thick dark bush that I love to play with.

Me? I'm Irish to the core, with the red hair and freckles to prove it. I'm right under six feet tall, and while I was never coordinated enough to play team sports in high school, I was a pretty good runner, and I've stayed in decent shape ever since.

Just thinking about Olivia that night set my groin to tingling, and I thought about a nice way to make amends for missing Susie's recital. But then I remembered that it was Friday night, so the kids were going to be up late, probably with friends over, so that put a damper on that idea.

It figured. Just my luck. I have a bad week at work, Olivia and I are bitching at each other, the weather is lousy, traffic is heavy, and, oh by the way, I couldn't reach my wife on the phone.

I'd tried to call and tell her that I was going to be a little bit late, but had gotten no answer. I'd left a message on the answering machine, but it had me concerned. It was unusual that she wasn't home on a Friday night, and in my dark mood, I was conjuring up all sorts of reasons why she wouldn't answer.

I'll be the first to admit that our sex life had taken a beating in recent weeks because of my job. I was working late a lot and coming home tired, and now that the kids had reached a certain age, it was a lot harder to plan private time for just the two of us.

We have two sons, aged 14 and 12, plus Susie's 9. It just seemed like they were taking up more and more of our time, and we had less and less time for each other. As I said, we'd gotten in a rut, and put our relationship on cruise control, and that was nagging at the back of my mind.

I waited a little while, until I got out to the outer suburbs and traffic thinned out a little, then tried the house again. Same thing; I got the answering machine.

I didn't bother leaving a message, and instead called Olivia's cell phone. I figured if there was some emergency, she'd have her cell phone with her, as she always did when she went out. But it was the same thing as the home phone; I got her voice mail after the first ring.

Now I was really starting to wonder what was going on. I've never cheated on Olivia, and to my knowledge she'd never cheated on me. The idea was unthinkable. But the more I worked it over in my overworked brain, the more unsure I became.

Olivia couldn't possibly be running around on me, could she? I wracked my brain trying to think of anything suspicious that might have been a clue – an unexplained absence, a telltale odor, some little lie – and nothing came to mind.

True, we had argued quite heatedly the night before, and neither one of us had apologized before going to bed, which wasn't the least bit normal for us. I had stormed off and gone for a long walk, and by the time I got home, Olivia was in bed asleep.

But the gist of the argument had had nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with the fact that I was letting work become more important than my family.

It was nothing I hadn't heard before, but I began to wonder if the previous night's fight had been the straw that broke the camel's back, that Olivia had decided she was going out to get whatever emotional and sexual needs met that I wasn't fulfilling.

Jesus, this was the last thing I needed right then. I had just been through one of the worst weeks of my professional career, and I needed my wife to be a rock of support, not the cause for suspicion.

I mean, there was no doubting the wisdom of her contention that I was letting work consume me a little too much. But I couldn't just quit. I'm approaching 20 years of service with this company, and we can't afford to lose my income.

And, in most cases, it's a great place to work. The company is successful, a leader in the industry, the benefits are generous and, for the most part, I get along with the people I work with, even my superiors. Occasionally, they can be hard-asses, but usually they don't have to crack the whip to get maximum performance out of me and my group.

At any rate, paranoia was working overtime by the time I made it to my exit off the expressway and pointed my car toward home.

When I approached the house, a little before 8:30, my suspicions were not exactly dissipated. There was no strange vehicle parked in front of the house, and Olivia's minivan was in the garage. But the house was totally dark, and there didn't appear to be any activity going on inside.

What the hell was going on?

I entered through the kitchen door and walked carefully through the darkened kitchen. As I approached the den, which is set below the rest of the house and leads into the back yard, I noticed something I hadn't seen from outside. The room seemed to be dimly lit by a flickering light.

I turned the corner, entered the room and was greeted by a sight I'll never forget.

Standing at the other end of the room, leaning slightly against the bookcase was Olivia. She was dressed – sort of – in her one-piece teddy. The top just did cover her nipples, and the bottom held up her stockings, but failed to cover that magnificent pussy. She was quite sexily made up, with flaming red lipstick, and she was wearing her high heels, the fuck-me shoes she always had on when we went out on a date.

There were several candles throwing off a seductive glow, and bathing her beauty in a dim, but sexy light. On the coffee table stood an open bottle of wine – dry white, my favorite – and one empty glass.

Olivia's tapered fingers were wrapped around the stem of a wineglass, and as I stared, she drained the glass and walked – strutted, actually – to where I was rooted. Her pendulous breasts swayed to and fro as the sashayed over to me, her eyes locked on mine.

Neither of us spoke, afraid, I guess, that we might break some spell that had been cast.

Finally, she stood in front of me, and I drank in her loveliness.

"Welcome home, love," Olivia purred.

"Well, I'm quite happy to be home," I stammered. "This is a very pleasant surprise. Where are the kids?"

"Kendall's over at his friend Bruce's house, spending the night, and I took Lee and Susie to my folks," she said. "Hugh, I'm so sorry about the things I said last night, and I want to make it up to you."

"It has been awhile since we made time for each other," I whispered as I drew the love of my life into my arms and we embraced.

I could feel the trembling heat of Olivia's body as our lips met and we kissed, as though we were just discovering each other. Our tongues did languid battle, as our passion ran wild, and I could feel her dry-humping me.

And was I ever responding. My cock was on full alert, ready to fire, and my hands swept over her sleek body. I shivered from the silky feeling of the satin teddy, which I had never seen before.

The look that passed between us was smoldering as I pulled away. I pulled my tie off and took off my shoes while Olivia turned to the coffee table to pour us each a glass of wine. She took a sip from her glass, then handed me my glass.

I took a deep sip, feeling the tart liquor excite my tongue, as Olivia wrapped herself around me again. We kissed again, this time a little more slowly, but still with a deep fire inside.

After a minute or two, I slid my mouth down her chin and licked a soft line down her jaw. She lifted her head to ceiling and purred when I did that, and her purr turned into a groan as I licked my way down her neck.

As I did, I reached up with my free hand and pulled her left breast out of its confinement, then bent down and took the fat nipple into my mouth and suckled her like a baby. Her nips and areolas are in proportion with the rest of her tits, wide and fat, and I gave them every bit of attention they deserved.

I chewed on her tit for another minute or two, then she pulled my face away. I took just enough time to take another swallow of wine, then turned my attention to her right breast, and gave it the same treatment I'd given its sister.

My cock was a rampaging beast in my slacks, and I could tell my boxers were getting wet from where the leaking tip of my cock came into contact with the cloth.

It had been – what? – a month, maybe more, since we'd had sex, and longer than that since we'd really made this kind of love. I had jacked off in the shower a couple of times over the previous month, just to get some relief, but that's not really something I like to do. So my balls were pretty full of pent-up cum.

I swallowed the last of my wine after I came up for air, and I just gazed at Olivia's tits, shiny from where I'd been sucking on them.

"Let me get you another glass, my love," Olivia said, taking the glass from my hand. "In the meantime, why don't you sit down and make yourself comfortable, because I've got a treat for you."

She refilled my glass, but not hers, then after she handed it back to me, she knelt on the floor at my feet. She softly ran her hands up my legs, and I had an idea about her treat.

"I really am sorry about last night," Olivia said. "I know it's been a bad week, and I had no business getting onto you like that. I know how hard you work, and you didn't need for me to be a bitch."

"Well, Livie, you had a right to be angry," I said. "I knew how important the recital was to Susie, and I know how disappointed she was that I couldn't make it. And you're right, I am letting the job affect me. Did you tell Susie how sorry I was that I couldn't be there."

"I did, and she understands," Olivia said. "She's very wise for her age, and when I told her that you had a special job you were doing that couldn't be put off, she nodded and told me that she knows you'd have been there if you could have."

"We've got good kids," I said.

"We do," Olivia said. "But, Hugh, they aren't going to be kids forever. I hope you don't look back seven or eight years from now and say, 'damn, I wish I'd spent more time with the kids when they were 14, 12 and 9.' But enough of that. I didn't set this up to talk about that or anything else. I set this up so you can fuck me like a cheap whore."

"Oh, I can definitely do that, now," I growled, and pulled her up to give her a kiss.

We kissed ravenously for a few seconds, but that wasn't part of Olivia's plans for the night. She pulled herself away, slid back down my legs, which she spread so she could get to where she wanted to be – where I wanted her to be.

I took a sip of wine as she unbuckled my belt, undid my slacks, lowered the zipper and pulled my cock out through the hole in my shorts. And let me tell you, it sprang out of my pants like a jumping jack.

"Oh my," Olivia exclaimed. "I think Mr. Wiggly wants to come out and play. Mr. Wiggly's my friend."

Olivia's hands softly stroked my rock-hard cock as I leaned my head back and drank in the sensations. I'm not bragging, but I've been blessed with a nice cock, about seven inches worth, maybe more when it gets like it was that night, and it's pretty fat. I honestly think Olivia feel in love with my dick before she fell in love with the rest of me.

The hole in my boxers acted sort of like a soft cock ring as it wrapped around the base of my dick and balls, and I can't remember when it had been harder.

Suddenly, I groaned as Olivia's tongue reached out and flicked away a big ball of pre-cum from the tip of my cock. She smacked her lips in relish then licked up another drop and followed that by licking down and around my shaft to the base, then back up again.

She licked all over the shaft and crown a little bit then opened her mouth wide and slid the head past her lips and into her mouth. I groaned and she hummed as she drew me into her throat, working a little better than half of my cock with her ruby-red lips and circling the rest with her tight fist.

This was indeed a treat. I could not remember the last time Olivia had given me a blowjob, but it had been at least a year or more. It wasn't that she didn't like doing it, it was just hard to find the time to do it right with three rambunctious kids running around the house.

But there was nothing now to interrupt Olivia from giving me one of her make-a-dead-man-cum blowjobs, and I laid my head back on the sofa and let the warm sensation of her mouth on my cock flow through me.

And as it did, I could feel all the tension from the previous week flowing out into the ether, like none of it ever happened. All I could hear was the steady slurping of my wife's mouth on my purple boner, and all I could feel was the pressure of her lips and the swirling of her active tongue on my shaft.

Up and down, up and down, Olivia worked my cock with her mouth, as I strained to hold back the tidal wave of cum that was boiling to the surface. I looked down at the glorious sight of her lips pursed around my cock, her hand massaging the base, the better to feed my meat into her maw.

As I stared at the luscious sight, Olivia looked up at me and our eyes locked, just for a second, then she winked at me, her eyes laughing like they did the first time I met her.

But I was in for an even better treat. Just about the time I thought I couldn't hold back my orgasm, Olivia pulled her head away from my cock. I could see little tendrils of juice – the potent mixture of saliva and pre-cum – as they connected her mouth and the head of my dick.

She leaned forward slightly, pulled her tits open, so that there was a nice, deep valley between her fleshy mounds, and slid my cock right up in there. When she had me in position, she sort of folded her arms together, which had the effect of producing a nice juicy hole for me to work my dick in.

I thought that maybe I'd died and gone to heaven. A titfuck from my wife is almost as good as sex, and I thrust my cock hard, willing myself to come.

"Oh, my God, Livie, it fees so good," I panted.

"Come on, baby, fuck Mama's big fat titties," Olivia whispered. "Fuck 'em and come all over me. That's it, baby, work that hot cock between my tits."

Then, just to emphasize her point, she bent her head and swiped her tongue over the head of my cock as it poked out from between her breasts.

That was all it took. I could feel my control slipping, so I grabbed my cock at the base, stroked it hard about three good pulls and exploded with one of those orgasms that feels like your whole spinal cord is coming out the end of your dick.

The first shot hit Olivia right across her lips and up her left nostril. She squealed in surprise, then laughed seductively as I hosed her tits with a good half-dozen huge globs of semen. After the initial rush, I squeezed my cock tightly and painted each nipple with small microburst of cum.

I regained semi-consciousness just in time to see my wife lick my cum off her lips, then she gathered the big dollop of sperm from her nose with a finger and stuck that in her mouth.

As I fell back on the sofa in momentary satisfaction, Olivia picked up each of her breasts and licked off as much cum as she could reach. There was an almost demonic look in her eyes as she sucked each nipple until it was almost painfully hard.

"Don't get too comfy there, pal," she panted. "You've got some work to do down here."

I wasn't about to argue. I slid off the sofa onto the floor and kissed Olivia deeply, letting my tongue burrow into her mouth to taste the fruits of her labor.

Mind you, I'm not the least bit queer, or even bisexual. But I do get a rush out of tasting my own cum after I've made a deposit in her pussy or her mouth. It's just so nasty that it turns me on.

But I had no time to linger. I could tell from the way Olivia's body was trembling that she was on a short trigger. I maneuvered her onto the sofa, and she leaned back, opened her legs, put both hands on her upper thighs, which had the effect of opening her fat pussy lips, and invited me to eat her out.

I didn't mess around. I got my face right up to her crotch and inhaled her musky, womanly aroma then slashed my tongue right up her slot, curled it up over her throbbing clit then sucked her labia into my mouth almost like I was sucking a cock.