The Luckiest Man in the World

byTx Tall Tales©

"God, baby, that was..." I was lost for the right superlative.

She kissed my cock, giving me a smile. She rose up and offered me her lips. I could still see a drop of my essence on the corner of her mouth. I hesitated only a second, then took her face in my hands and kissed her deeply. I couldn't taste much difference, and didn't care. If she could do that for me, I was sure as hell willing to kiss her afterward.

Becca back away, smiling. "That's going to take some getting used to," she said. "Not what I was expecting."

I looked at her nervously. "You don't have to..."

"I want to, Alan. We're going to have to practice that. A lot. As much as you want. I'm yours, husband dearest. body and soul. Yours forever. If I can bring you pleasure, I want to. I need to. I'll never deny you. Never."

I pulled her up into my lap, hugging her. "I'm the luckiest..."

She laughed. "I know. The luckiest man in the world. Not half as lucky as me, handsome."


* * *

Sandra took the call.

"I'd like to talk to Alan. Can you tell him it's Amber?"

"He's stepped out of the office for a minute. Can I take a message?"

"Can you? Thanks so much! I have to delay our meeting tonight. I'll be at the restaurant at 6:00."

"I'll make sure he gets the message. He knows which restaurant?"

The voice on the other end of the phone giggled. "The usual."

Sandra took a note and left it on his desk. "Your client called and will be delayed until 6:00 pm."

She sat at her desk, and made a painful decision. She called Becca.

"Becca? Sandra. Her name is Amber, and she's meeting him tonight at some restaurant at 6:00. That's all I know."

Becca felt chills as her worst fears were confirmed. "Thank you. I...I'm sorry to get you in the middle of all this."

"I'm sorry too. I don't understand it. It doesn't make sense."

Becca sighed. "Me either. I guess I can see how we've been drifting apart a bit. We have some small issues. I never expected this. I'm lost. I don't know what to do."

"Don't do anything rash, Ok? Make sure you know what's going on before you say or do anything. There must be a logical explanation. This is Alan we're talking about."

Becca hung up the phone, and gave Margie, her best friend a call. Margie was the only one she'd shared her concerns with. They agreed that Becca should try to find out more. That's how she ended up in the parking lot by his office in Margie's car, a wig on her head, and large sunglasses on.

She waited over an hour, getting nervous, before he finally appeared. He seemed very casual about it, driving straight to the Hilton, and getting valet car service. They were there by 5:45. Becca parked nearby, checked her appearance in the mirror, and confident she was unrecognizable, slipped into the lobby.

There was no way that Alan wouldn't recognize his wife of 25 years, even with a ridiculous red wig, and oversized 70's sunglasses. He even recognized the sunglasses, from their last vacation. His heart was pounding as he turned away from her, avoiding any chance of her catching him looking at her.

When Amber arrived a few minutes later, he felt a moment of guilty pleasure as all eyes turned her way. She marched straight toward him and he gave her a hug and kiss. She was a little surprised, the kiss was more intimate than he'd ever done openly before. She felt his hand on her ass. That wasn't new. Even in public.

Alan took her by the hand. "Room first, then dinner?"

She smiled. "It's your dime, lover."

He checked in at the desk, and walked straight to the elevators.

It had been a hard day for him. He was feeling ill, and a little weak. Nonetheless, he was determined to put on a good show. As soon as he got in the elevator, he was pulling Amber into his arms, and Becca was already up and moving toward the bank of elevators, moving without thinking. She saw them come together in the elevator embracing. She watched, her heart sinking, as the elevator rose to the 12th floor.

She was shaking, unable to think. Becca walked slowly away, then turned back to the desk. There were three people working there, and she avoided the young man on the far left who'd checked her husband in. She walked up to the counter.

"Becca Hammonds," she said confidently. "I left my key upstairs, 12th floor." She pulled out the driver's license, handing it to the woman.

"Of course Mrs. Hammonds," she said politely, looking up the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Hammonds, room 1216." She took a blank card, and ran it through the machine. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"No thank you."

She was nervous as she walked up to the door of the room. She braced herself, pulling out her phone and getting ready to take a picture. She ran the card through the lock and opened the door.

She was in a hallway with the dresser and TV visible ahead. She closed the door quietly. She moved forward slowly, camera in hand. Her husband was lying between the slut's legs. He was naked, she was wearing nothing but garter and stockings. He was pounding into her. Fucking her. Becca lifted the camera and started recording.

Alan knew she was there when he heard the door open. He lifted Amber's long, silky legs and pressed them back. He leaned over her and started hammering at her, as forcefully as he could. He saw the small smile appear on the beauty's face.

"God, I love fucking you, baby," he said. "So damn good. I love everything about you. You're incredible."

Amber looked up at him, smiling. "You're pretty incredible yourself. Before and after dinner? You're going to wear me out."

"Forever and ever. I can't get enough of you."

She sighed, thrusting against him. "You never have to. You know I'm always only a phone call away."

He let go of her legs, and leaned down, kissing her. "I love you, Amber. Love you so much. Where have you been all my life?"

Before she could answer, his lips were back on hers, stealing her breath away, stopping any response. He thrust to his finish inside of her, screaming out as he came.

He tried to act surprised when he heard the clapping from behind him.

"Quite the show, Alan. Don't come home. Don't call. You disgust me," Becca said.

He thought there might be some violence, but she simply turned away and walked out the door. He pulled out of Amber, removed the rubber and tied it in a knot, dropping it in the trash.

"What was that all about?" Amber asked.

He reached for her, caressing her side, trying to stall the tears. "You've been wonderful," he said to her. "Really. I won't need your services any longer."

He got up and pulled the money out of his wallet. "For tonight."

She got up, casually slipping her dress back on.

"Are you going to explain, at least?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. It was something I had to do. That's all."

It hit him hard, and he staggered back to the bed. He curled up in pain, and she went to him, the poor broken man. She held him until the worst was past, stroking his hair. He was so stoic, hiding his pain, his emotions. So typical.

She felt the heat of his head, the sweat. She pulled him back into the bed, drawing the cover over him. He moaned softly, and she took her dress back off, climbing in with him.

He had paid for the full girlfriend experience. No girlfriend would leave her man, in that kind of pain.

* * *

Margie was sitting with her, when Alan arrived home a few hours later. The keys still worked, and he let himself in the house.

"I told you not to come home," his wife snapped at him.

"It's my home. I paid for it. I have every right to be here," he said wearily, trying to keep up a strong façade.

Margie had her arm around his wife, comforting her. "You bastard! Couldn't you just stay in your little love nest and give her one night to deal with your betrayal."

He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. Unscrewing the top, he took a long draw.

"Why, Alan? Why would you do this to us?" Becca cried.

"I'm not going to discuss it with that bitch here."

Margie looked shocked. "You asshole! She needs someone with her now."

"Whatever. How's Bridge night, Margie? That was your idea wasn't it?"

Margie blanched, and his wife moaned softly. "Yes, and it's over. You know that. Once Becca and Jean left, we didn't have enough to play."

"Whatever. Stick with your lies, you evil cunt. You're her guest, so I'm not going to kick your diseased ass out the door, but don't speak to me again, or I might forget I'm a gentleman."

"Gentleman..." she shrieked, abruptly stopping when she saw the anger in his eyes as he stepped toward her.

"One more word to me, and I swear I'll slap that fucking leer off your face, understood?"

She nodded fearfully. He was a large, scary man. Over 6 foot tall, solid. Wide bodied. Bigger than her ex-husband, much bigger, and that son-of-a-bitch put her in the hospital twice. Still, she'd never expected that kind of response, from cool, controlled Alan.

He turned away. "I'm going to bed. You can use the guest bedroom, Becca. You're welcome to join me in bed, either of you. Hell both, if you want. If you do, come naked. I'm still horny."

Alan laid there, in agony, fearing his wife might for some God-forsaken reason come to their room. He sighed in relief, when he heard the door to the guest room close loudly, and a few minutes later a car pulled out of his driveway.

He relaxed, as much as he could, and pressed his face into the pillow, struggling with the tears. So much harder than he'd imagined. He fought to harden his heart, reminding himself why he was doing it. Twenty-five years.

There was something wrong. She'd been acting nervous the last couple of days. Two days in a row we hadn't made love. It was a record for us, only two months after our wedding.

I knew changes were going on at her work. She'd been on the phone a lot. She even lowered her voice, almost whispering into the device when I walked by.

I took off a couple of hours early and prepared.

She walked through the door into the bedroom, following the trail of rose petals. I watched her eyes as she took in the scene, dozens of red roses in vases around the room, lights doused, three dozen candles illuminating our haven.

She stood in surprise, and I saw tears in her eyes. I went to her, slowly undressing that body which enthralled me. "Hush, now. I can tell you're under stress now, let me take care of you."

"Alan," she said softly.

"Please. Let me do this for you. We can talk afterward if you like."

She nodded, the corners of her sexy mouth turning up at the edges. I had her naked, clucking over the plain panties. "This ass deserves better. I'm taking you shopping this weekend."

She giggled. "That's a good idea."

I kissed her hip, and took her into the bathroom, helping her step into the bubble bath. "Relax." I whispered, and handed her a glass of her favorite chardonnay. I pressed play on the CD player, and let the sounds of the symphony fill the room.

She looked up at me, and I could see the love in her eyes. It was worth everything.

I put her clothing away, and brought out what I needed for the next phase, forcing myself to be patient.

After twenty minutes, I went into the bathroom. She was half asleep. I leaned down and let my lips graze hers. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled. "I don't deserve you," she said.

"You deserve so much more, but you're stuck with me," I teased.

"Forever," she whispered, reaching up and putting her arms around me neck, pulling me close for another kiss.

I emptied the tub, and helped her up. I had a big, new ultra-soft bath sheet, which I used to dry her. When I was done, I tossed it to the side, and guided her, nude, back into the bedroom. She allowed me to lead her onto the bed, on her stomach. I started the soft music, and warmed the massage oil in my hand.

I took my time, slowly worshiping her body, my hands rubbing and kneading every square inch. She sighed often, moving subtly under my ministrations.

I turned her over and did it all over again to her front side. I kept the sexual play to a minimum, massaging her breasts, but not teasing too much. I rubbed the sides of her magical pussy, but no more than that. When I finished it felt like she didn't have a single bone in her body.

I laid down next to her, caressing her face. "I know something's bothering you, beautiful. Talk to me. You can always confide in me. Please, whatever is going on, I want to be there for you. I know I'm not the most demonstrative man in the world, but you have to know you're the world to me."

Her hand brushed my cheek. "You're going to be a Daddy. Please tell me your not mad."

"Mad!" I said, sitting up, my mind a whirling maelstrom. "Daddy? Are you sure?"

"The doctor confirmed it today. I know we said we'd wait..."

I took her in my arms, laughing, tears creeping into my eyes. She looked at me in surprise, her hand reaching out and brushing away my tear. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll be the best father I can. I swear. I'll...I'll do anything I can for you."

She looked nervously. "You're not angry?"

I kissed her hard. "Angry? I'm the luckiest man in the world. I could never be angry at you. Not for giving me the most wonderful gift imaginable." I looked at her nervousness, my stomach suddenly knotting. "You...you want it, don't you?"

She gasped. "How can you even ask? I want it more than anything in the world. I want to bear your children, raise them together, watching them grow together with us. I love you, Alan."

I took her in my arms, and entered her, gazing into her eyes, lying on top of her, trying to convey just how deeply I loved her. I knew it was impossible, but I tried.

She couldn't keep her hands off of me, touching me all over, her hands gliding across my skin, lovingly, possessively. "Love me, Daddy. Love me forever."

I let my lips graze hers, sharing her breath, my hips driving into her. I felt her pleasure growing, her eyes losing their focus, her breath stronger, soft moans echoing in my mouth.

"Forever. Forever and ever, Mommy," I whispered.

I felt her hips drive against mine, tensing, as she surrendered, whimpering softly. I groaned, and moments later, filled her with my seed, redundant now that it had already done its job.

She hugged me tightly, desperately. "Forever, promise?"

"Forever."


* * *

He popped two of his pills and walked downstairs. She was sitting at the kitchen table when he got a cup down and poured himself some coffee.

"Why, Alan? Can you just explain why?" she asked softly.

He smirked. "C'mon Becca. Did you see her?"

"Is this because of Bridge night?" she asked.

"Listen, we had a good run. Twenty four great years. One so-so. Three wonderful children. You were a terrific wife and mother. We can abandon the charade now. We both want something different. No need to hide it anymore."

"It was just dancing, Alan. Dancing, that's all. I don't want something different. You're my husband. I love you. I want to grow old with you."

Alan laughed. "You have a funny way of showing it. Our love life is shit. You haven't been a decent lay in years, so it really hasn't bothered me that you don't want to put out anymore. All the lies. Months and months of lies. That's not love. I will say this, you've got the growing old part down pretty good." He was trying to hurt her, and from the look on her face he was succeeding.

"You never said anything," she whined.

"Fuck you. You're my wife. I shouldn't have to say anything. Worked out for the best, anyway, didn't it? You got what you wanted for the better part of a year, and I'm getting the best sex of my life, with a beautiful woman who cares for me. I guess I should be saying thanks. Gotta run now."

"Where are you going? It's Saturday, you don't need to go to work. We have to talk about this."

"I'm going to see a friend. She was upset last night. Since we don't have to hide anything anymore, I'm going to spend some quality time with her. Why don't you go see Margie? Thank her for all she's done for you. Sincerely. We could have been stuck in our rut for another twenty, thirty years, if she hadn't help you unfurl your true colors."

"You're the one cheating, you bastard!" Becca shrieked. "All I did was dance with some men. That's all! Nothing sexual ever. Not like you, fucking that, that kid!"

"I'm a man. I need to fuck something, and I'm not going to take sloppy seconds off of you. I might get some kind of lousy disease."

"I NEVER FUCKED ANYONE!" she screamed.

"Certainly not me, in the last few months," Alan smirked. "I'll be back Sunday evening. You might make your roast. Take it easy on the onions this time, Ok?"

Alan left, and checked himself into a motel. He spent the day going over his financials again, making sure he hadn't missed anything. He looked at the numbers, and reminded himself once again why he was doing it. It was for the best. She deserved it. Twenty-five years.

I had her to myself. She was stunning in her simple black dress. Tired but happy from an evening of dinner and dancing. Our one year anniversary.

Her parents had taken David for the evening. We were alone. The first time having the entire night to ourselves since our son's birth three months earlier. Our honeymoon baby.

Arriving home, she closed the door, and kissed me. "Thank you, everything was perfect," she whispered, her hand lifting to run her fingers over the pearl necklace I'd given her.

She stepped back, smiling mischievously. "Now I have a gift for you. Give me ten minutes, and meet me in our bedroom."

It was almost impossible to wait that long, but I watched the minute hand on the mantle clock crawl across the face, until I had done as she asked.

She was waiting for me, dressed in the most amazing lacy babydoll, which covered her swollen breasts, but still showed them clearly through the mostly transparent material. The bottom of the outfit ended at crotch level. She wasn't wearing panties.

"You're...'

"Shhh," she whispered, pressing her finger against my lips. She undressed me slowly, moving around my body, taking her time until I was naked. She stepped away, and handed me a small wrapped box. I untied the ribbon, with a questioning glance. She smiled and nodded toward my hands.

I opened the top, and saw a small purple bottle. I read the title, Astroglide. I looked up at my wife, and she crawled onto the bed, on her hands and knees, her sweet round ass wiggling.

"Your gift, husband mine. My last virgin opening. I...Do you want it?" she asked nervously.

I'd never broached the subject. I'd teased her back there a few times, but I was afraid to bring it up. I didn't want to scare her or make her think I was a pervert.

"You...you want me to?"

She blushed. "Only if you want to. You never said anything, but I get the feeling you'd like to. Am I wrong?"

I approached the bed, leaned down and kissed her soft white cheeks. "No, you're not wrong. I didn't want you to think I was, I don't know, a weirdo or anything."

She wiggled her hips, giggling. "I'm yours silly. Anything I can do for you. Talk to me about what you want, don't make me guess. I swear I'll never judge you. Let me in, share. Please."

"I will. I promise. I...I didn't want to mess up what we have. It's perfect. You're perfect."

She laughed. "Hardly. But I'm glad you think so. I only want to be perfect for you. Your perfect woman. Accept my gift. I want you to know that I'm excited to be able to do this for you. It's not something I ever really wanted, but now, I can barely contain myself. Fuck my virgin ass, Alan. Take me."

I looked down at her open cheeks, and saw the glistening around the little brown hole. I took my gift bottle, and poured a little at the top of her crease. I pressed my finger against her hole, and was surprised at how easily I entered her.

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