The Luckiest Man in the WorldbyTx Tall Tales©
"I've been preparing myself," she moaned softly. "I'm ready for you, lover."
I applied a generous amount to my cock, stroking it. I was hard as a rock, my pulse running wild. I pressed the head of my cock against her opening, holding the shaft firmly as I pushed. I felt the pressure and moaned as I saw the crown enter her.
"Are you Ok?" I asked nervously.
"Wonderful," she answered softly. "You're in me. God, I'm trembling, Alan! I want this so badly. Take it slow, but take me."
I pressed forward, feeling the intense pressure. I started a slow rocking, staring in wonder as I entered her, little by little. With about half my length inside her I paused. "Still Ok?"
"Fuck me, Alan! Fuck my ass! Stop teasing me!"
I pushed forward harder, pulling back, and thrusting hard. She moaned softly and all but the last inch penetrated her. I watched in amazement as her flesh clung to me on the out-stroke. I was burning with need. I grabbed her hips tightly and thrust hard, my hips slapping against the flesh of her ass.
Looking down, I saw her hand was between her legs, touching where I was entering her, rubbing her sweet pussy.
"Fuck," I groaned, and started stroking the last few inches in and out of her, feeling her accept me. The strokes grew longer, faster, until I was long-stroking her.
"So...good," she moaned, pressing back against me. "So...big. Filling...me."
I lasted longer than I thought I would, after the evening of teasing, and the idea of what we were doing. It was my first time, but I knew that if I had any opportunity at all, it wouldn't be my last.
She was moaning as I sped up, pounding her.
"Fuck it," she groaned. "Fuck that dirty ass."
I groaned, her words doing as much as her tight tunnel did. "Too good," I groaned, pounding deep inside her. I slammed my cock home and erupted inside her, feeling like I was coming harder than I ever had in my life.
She squealed and her body started shaking, while I pumped my balls dry, deep inside of her.
I pulled out slowly, watching her tight little hole dilate, a small stream of white flowing out of her.
I collapsed next to her, gasping. "Wow!"
She cuddled up to me. "I guess you liked that. So what do you think, Mr. Lucky? Add that to our regular menu?"
"God, Becca! What did I ever do to deserve you."
"You loved me."
"Forever," I reminded her.
"Of course. That goes unsaid." She made a little face. "Pretty wild, but I bet I'm going to be sore as hell tomorrow."
"I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"The most wonderful hurt in the world. God, baby, you were sure worked up. I guess you really did want that. You liked your present?"
"Loved it. Love you. Thank you for marrying me. Thank you for everything."
She giggled. "You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed 'everything'. Let's clean up. I'm not done with you yet."
* * *
Alan was feeling better Sunday evening. He headed home around 7:00, and found his keys didn't work. He'd expected that.
He went around back, and checked the key there. No luck either. No problem. It only took a couple of good kicks beside the door-handle to get in. The damage to the door frame was minimal. Nothing he couldn't fix for a few bucks and a couple of hours time.
"Lucy...I'm home," he called out chuckling.
She was sitting in the living room, Margie with her again. "Get out! I've already called the police," his loving wife said.
"Good. Maybe they'll take the bitch with them. The roast ready?"
"GET OUT!" Becca screamed.
Alan walked into the kitchen, and saw nothing had been prepared. He sighed, and checked the refrigerator. Sandwich fixings. He made himself a sandwich, and took a bite. Grabbed a glass of water to wash it down.
"Something's wrong with the locks," he said calmly, while the women huddled together. "My key didn't work."
The women glared at him, while he worked on his sandwich.
The doorbell rang a few minutes later, and he stood. "I'll get it. You two look comfortable." Alan answered the door with sandwich in hand, peering out through the peephole.
He opened the door. "Good evening, officers. Can I help with something?"
The man at the door peered around him. "We had a call about a break-in."
Alan opened the door. "I'm sure it was a simple mistake. Would you like to come in?"
The two uniformed officers entered the house, looking around. "I take it you didn't make the call," the taller one said.
"No, I believe that was my wife. She's in the living room."
The two men followed him in.
Becca was standing. "I don't want him in here. He kicked in the back door."
The officer looked at me. "Is that true?"
Alan nodded. "Yes, my key didn't work, and nobody answered the doorbell. I did the least damage I could."
The officers looked at each other, then Becca. "Is that true?"
"I told him not to come back, after sleeping with that bitch. I had the locks changed."
The officer sighed. "Ma'am, is this your house. Only yours?"
She looked angry. "I won't have him in here, threatening me."
"He threatened you?"
Margie spoke up. "He hit her. Twice. I saw it."
Becca looked surprised. More so than Alan, he'd expected something similar.
"Is that true?" the shorter officer, officer Roland from his name-tag, asked Becca.
"Yes," she said softly. "Twice."
Alan laughed. "Thank you Margie. I don't know how I could ever have done any of this without you. You too, Becca. Still with the lies. Any doubts I had, you've sure taken care of that."
Officer Roland pulled me aside, asking to talk to me outside and get my statement. The taller one, Officer McGregor stayed with the women.
Alan gave his story, denying striking anyone. "I understand how it goes," he said. "Fucked up legal system, isn't it?"
Officer Roland looked embarrassed. "You probably should get a lawyer."
"Got one. Not a problem. Can I get some stuff, or are you going to take me in?"
"With two witnesses, we're going to have to arrest you and take you in, if they file a complaint. They didn't say anything on the original call, so we'll have to see what comes of their statement."
"Got it. Can I at least change? I'm feeling kind of grubby."
The officer seemed to consider it, then acquiesced. They walked through the entrance, and into the master bedroom. Alan spoke to the officer. "I understand if you don't want to leave me alone. I may be a dangerous risk, right? I'll change here, only take a moment."
He stripped down unselfconsciously, changing everything, and putting on jeans, a t-shirt, and a casual button up. He turned back to the officer. "Thanks for that. I appreciate it."
Officer Roland nodded. "No problem. You didn't hit her, did you?"
"Hell no. Twenty-five years. Check your records. Never a call, not even a threat. She doesn't want me here, this is her easiest way out. I'm sure her friend discussed this with her. Her ex was an abuser. Put her in the hospital twice. I'm sure she knows all about this stuff. One little lie, and the bitches get their way."
The officer walked Alan back outside, and he didn't even try to talk to the women. "You get a lot of this stuff?" Alan asked.
"It's the worst. Probably twenty percent of the calls we get are for some kind of domestic issue. If they stick to the complaint, we'll have to take you in. You won't get a hearing until Monday, nothing on Sunday."
Alan shrugged. "Not much I can do about it now, is there?"
Officer Roland sighed. "You're taking this pretty well."
"When I saw her there with Margie, I figured it might go down this way. I couldn't let her kick me out of my own house without trying to stand up for myself."
Officer McGregor came out the door. A few minutes later Alan was in handcuffs and read his rights. Thirty minutes later he was in jail. They took his pills away, and he explained his issues, and showed them his prescription. He was given his medications on a schedule, and all in all, had a decent night's rest. He thought things were moving ahead pretty smoothly. He hoped the arrest wouldn't stall things.
On Monday he was charged with third degree domestic assault. The testimonies were read, as well as the Officer's report, including no evidence of harm, and the situation as they encountered it.
Alan was brought into a tiny room just outside of the courtroom. He faced a woman, an attractive mid thirties brunette, who seemed frazzled. She told him he was being charged with a class C misdemeanor, the lowest form of assault.
She started asking questions after telling him his rights to have an attorney. He stopped her and asked her what his options were. Alan explained that he hadn't hit his wife, but wanted to know straight up what his choices were.
The woman heaved a sigh, and told him he could plead guilty, not-guilty or no-contest. If he was willing to plead no-contest, given the evidence and reports, and no previous issues, she would reduce the charges to harassment, he could be out with a $500 fine and court costs, but he would be limited in contact with his wife, and have to stay out of his home, under a protective order for 6 months. Violating the protective order was serious, a class A misdemeanor, with up to a year in jail and up to $4000 fine.
That was fine by Alan. He didn't want to communicate with her. He didn't want her communicating with him. He just wanted the damned divorce and needed her to initiate it.
He made his plea, signed the papers and made his way to the cashier to pay the fine.
Alan had to get a police escort to return to his home, get his necessities, and recover his car. It took almost two hours to arrange things, and it was early afternoon when he was escorted to the front door of the house. Becca seemed surprised, and when she tried to talk to him, the officer in attendance advised her that he was under a protective order not to have any contact with her, and that she could wait outside or in the kitchen while he got his clothing and toiletries. Alan had to get her permission to remove his laptop.
Becca tried to call him several times afterward, but he never picked up the phone. He listened to her messages, including numerous apologies, which always ended in 'he should have just given her some time'. He had calls from all three kids, wondering how they'd already gotten word.
He called David, the oldest first, and found out that Carrie had gotten word from a neighbor friend that he'd been carted out in handcuffs. He was angry with his father, and Alan explained that all he did was enter his home, and his mother and her friend lied about his hitting her.
"Mom wouldn't do that," his son argued.
"You mean it's more likely that I hit your mother, than she lied about it because she was angry at me?" Alan asked.
"Why didn't you just leave?"
"It's my house. I paid for it, I have every right to live there."
"Mom said you cheated on her," he finally said. "Is it true?"
"Yes. She's been going out on dates for 6 months, telling me she was going to Margie's for Bridge. She stopped having sex with me. Our marriage is over. She should have asked for a divorce, but she decided to lie to me, and humiliate me instead. After her third Bridge night, I had one of the men from the office telling me he'd seen her out dancing. Hell of a way to find out, huh? If she didn't want me anymore, she should have just been honest about it, and gotten a divorce. I'll be speaking with my lawyer soon. I'm not going to support her and let her live in that house when I'm not allowed in it. If she won't do the right thing, I will."
"Can't you guys fix this? Is it that bad?" he asked.
"I can't contact her for the next six months. How are we supposed to fix anything? She sent me to jail, for God's sake! I didn't do anything. No, it's well beyond any repair now."
"It's only six months. Can't you at least wait that long? Cool off and see what can be done then?"
"Live in a motel, or cheap apartment, while I pay for her to live in my house and date other men? Do you really expect me to settle for that? If Diana sent you to jail, would you still plan on marrying her?"
"That's not the same. We're not married. You have 25 years together."
"No, Dave. If she wanted to talk things out, maybe something could have been done. I'm finished with her. Now I have to figure out how to make her pay, that's all."
The conversation didn't end well, with David telling his father he was stubborn and thick-headed. Alan called his eldest a Momma's boy, and told the young man to leave him alone if he was going to take her side after what she'd done.
The calls to his other two children didn't go as well as that first one. He had to make quiet an effort to antagonize Carrie enough to take her mother's side and scream at him, but it all worked out. He had effectively extended his no-contact rule to the kids. Mission accomplished.
It took a few hours of calls, but he finally found a short-term sublease of an apartment that was cheap enough. It was only for 5 months, but Alan figured that was probably as long as he was going to need.
He accepted a few more calls from friends, asking him what was going on. He made sure they all knew that she had him locked up by lying about his hitting her, and that he was going to divorce her and take her to the cleaners. She wouldn't get a penny if he could help it. He didn't win much sympathy from any of them.
Alan hit Wal-Mart and purchased a futon sofa bed for about 150 bucks, and had it loaded onto his truck. It was more work than it should have been to get it into the apartment, and was grateful for some help from a couple of young guys heading inside when he was.
He went to bed, heartbroken over what he'd had to do, but satisfied that things where turning out the way he needed. He missed his wife, but that was inevitable.
I had called her after lunch. Nine years had paid off. I had been called into the president's office at 10:00.
"How does it feel to be married to the new Director of Manufacturing Test?" I asked her.
"Really? You got the promotion?"
"Yep. Twelve percent raise. Bonus plan. Stock options. The whole works. See if your parents will take the kids, and put on something sexy. We're going to celebrate."
"I'm so proud of you, Alan! Nobody deserves it more than you."
"I couldn't do it without you. You're my rock. I have a meeting at 4:00 so I won't be able to come home early. I should be there by 6:00."
"I'll be waiting. Hurry home, lover."
I thought she'd be waiting by the door, but the house was quiet. I called out to her but heard no response. Her car was in the driveway, she should have been there. I called out again, then made my way back to the bedroom to change. I was just a little irritated.
Those feelings changed when I walked into our bedroom.
She was lying on the bed, naked, her legs spread, ankles tied to the corners of the bed. She had a gag in her mouth, and her hands were handcuffed together, to the middle of the headboard. Her eyes sparkled in amusement at my look.
I noticed there were a variety of objects laid out on the bed beside her. Feather duster, vibrator, dildo, can of whipping cream. Some other things I'd have to examine more closely.
A single blue bill was sitting on a post-it. The words 'eat me' were inscribed, with a little smiley face. I did.
Removing my clothing, I grinned. As I approached her, I saw a piece of folded paper beside her head. I opened it and read the words.
"Congratulations. You're the boss!"
I laughed, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "Evil woman. I love you."
"Uu uuuf oooo," she mumbled through her gag.
"I hope you understand this gag isn't going to stop me from taking advantage of that hot little mouth of yours."
Her eyes sparkled, and she smiled around the gag.
I took full advantage of the opportunity. I teased her forever, tickling her, rubbing her, sucking on her nipples. I used the vibrator and dildo on her, the first time I'd ever done something like that. After the first half-hour she was going crazy. When I climbed between her legs, feasting on her, lapping away at her juices while I rubbed her clit with the vibrator, she exploded, screaming through the gag, coming harder than I'd ever seen her.
I eased the smaller vibrator in her back door, licking her sweet pussy, teasing her clit relentlessly. She was struggling against her restraints as I forced her to come for me repeatedly. I had been working on her for nearly two hours, and she was glistening in sweat, her body in sensory overload, while her orgasms came in waves.
Becca's chest was heaving, when I moved up the bed, looking into her startled eyes, and removed her gag.
"My God, Alan," she gasped. "I...I never..."
I knelt next to her head, and pressed my cock against her lips. "I'm not nearly done with you yet," I told her, sliding my cock into her mouth. "Get me ready, I need to fuck you."
She whimpered softly, sucking me fiercely.
When I was happy with her effort, I moved to the bottom of the bed, removing one of the ankle restraints, and loosening the other. I climbed between her legs, eased the vibrator back in her ass, then slammed my cock inside of her as hard as I could.
She cried out, and within seconds of pounding her, she was coming for me again, loudly. I felt great, powerful, so in control. She would never forget this night.
I knew I couldn't last long inside of her, this first time. I was too worked up. My hips went into overdrive, pounding her mercilessly, until I couldn't hang on a moment longer. I reached up and squeezed her tender nipples, setting her off. "Take it," I growled, slamming into her, filling her while her tight little pussy came in waves around my cock.
I pulled out and looked at her glistening opening. I grabbed the little bullet vibrator, and pressed it against her clit, while I lowered my mouth to her pussy.
"Alan!" she screamed, as my tongue touched her.
I'd never done anything like that. Creampies weren't my thing, but seeing her like that, helpless, so well used, I couldn't help myself. Her body was shaking, "God, please, too much," she gasped.
I laughed, teasing her, torturing her, until I was hard again. I moved up and slid inside her again, twisting her lower body, straddling her restrained leg, and lifting her free one over my shoulder. I removed the vibrator from her ass, and fucked her hard, the earlier edge gone. I felt like I could fuck her forever. I was going to try.
She calmed down after a bit of slow steady screwing. Her quiet moans and soft grunts grew in intensity, as I used her for my pleasure. I moved her leg around freely, finding whatever worked best for me. When I felt the change in her response, I used her harder, glorying in my ability to pleasure her.
I had her coming, her leg shaking. I pushed her top leg back and down, opening her up. I pulled my cock out and pushed it into her ass, making her scream. She was coming hard on my cock, shaking wildly, while I fucked that tight forbidden hole. She turned her upper body, her free leg hanging off the side of the bed, while I pounded her ass, making her moan with ever stroke.
The sweat was pouring off my body as I leaned over her, hands holding her down, spreading her cheeks. The view was amazing, and I groaned, filling her ass.
She had collapsed, unmoving. I was afraid she'd passed out. I untied her, and found the keys to the handcuffs, tied to them with a string. I freed her, caressing her abused body.
She moaned softly, looking up at me in wonder and exhaustion. I kissed her lips softly, got up and started her bath. I brought a warm facecloth to her, and cleaned her up, then lifted her helpless body in my arms and carried her to the bathroom. I placed her in the bath, and washed her.
"My God, Alan. You almost killed me," she whispered, as I ran the facecloth over her body.