A Martian Slut Ray? Really?

If you Google Martian Slut Ray, you only get references to Literotica, which surprised me. This story is an attempt to widen the usage of what I think is a great phrase. It is not RAAC or BTB, and not much sex either, so skip it if you need any of those in a story.

As so many other writers on Lit do, I owe many thanks to Randl1958 and her posse. Thank you all. Tanglosax

When you have the best day of your life, and you think about it, you have to know that things can only get worse from there. I used to think the best day of my life was the day I married Janet Brown, now Mrs. Bobby Thomas. She was 24, a new teacher at a grade school in Macon, Georgia, where my older sister also taught. Janet was cute and my sister just had to fix us up. I was 27, just graduated from the University of Georgia law school. I was the newest associate lawyer at Bingham, Carlton and Quick, and I made the grand sum of $40,000 my first year with the firm.

It took Janet and me a year to get married. First, we dated off and on. She has since said she fell in love with me the first time we met, at a party my sister hosted for new teachers and "others." I was one of the others. Most of the others were representatives of local social organizations, my sister's way of introducing the new teachers to Macon's social life. I had grown up there and knew just about everybody. Obviously, I didn't need that kind of intro, but Frankie, my sister, thought I needed intros to the "right" kind of girl.

Janet had grown up in south Georgia, went to UGA (that's University of Georgia for the insufficiently educated) on a partial scholarship and was happy to move to Macon to start her teaching career. And I was happy to introduce her to Macon. As our dates got more on than off, we did the usual progressing from a little kissing to a lot of kissing to ....

"Bobby, hon, I'm sorry, but I'm just not comfortable with you putting your hand under my skirt. I mean, I like it and all, but it's going to lead to more and then, you know, more, and, and I need to tell you, when I get married, I will be one of those girls who walks down the aisle pure and unsullied, the perfect bride for my husband."

"Wow," I responded. "You must have practiced that at least a few times. And maybe used it on a few guys?" I really wasn't trying to insult her, but she sure thought I was. We were in my apartment, and she jumped up, said something about my "bad intentions" and left. I sat there, expecting her to come back. I had picked her up from her apartment, that she shared with two other girls, and we had gone out to dinner. I wondered how she was planning to get home. Later I found out, from my sister Frankie of course, that Janet called Frankie. Frankie picked her up and they went out for coffee and girl talk. Frankie called me the next morning to tell me, as only a sister can, to cool my jets, that Janet cared for me, a lot, but she was not at all experienced and I needed to go really slowly with her.

"Hello," Janet answered the phone later that next day.

"Janet, it's me, Bobby. I'm calling to apologize for my comment last night. You were being honest with me and I spoke without thinking about how important what you were saying was. You mean a lot to me and I hope you will forgive me." Actually, I didn't care much about virginity and purity and things like that, but I did like Janet a lot, and thought we might have a future together.

And we did, have a future together I mean. Six months later, she walked down the aisle in a little church in south Georgia and we married in a very traditional ceremony. She was indeed unsullied, but we fixed that on the first night of our honeymoon at a resort on Amelia Island.

Sex with Janet grew to be enjoyable, but a bit of a challenge at first. Truly a virgin that first night, with the blood and all, intercourse was not comfortable for her. And I admit, I made it worse. I had not had sex in a long time by then, and after I penetrated her, my continued stroking, which didn't last long that first night, further irritated her. She was crying and I was trying to console her, promising it would get better. She said she knew that; her mother had warned her. We finally went to sleep and we were holding each other, so that was a good sign.

The next morning Janet surprised me. While a virgin, she had gained some other skills in dealing with men she had dated. She woke me up with a blowjob that remains the best blowjob of my life. Wet and sloppy and pretty deep, fast and slow, she swallowed every drop. I think I might have levitated off the bed when I came. "No hands," she said when I recovered enough to look at her. Impressive.

We went to the beach that morning and showered together when we came back to the room. I promised her no more pain and maybe some enjoyment when we went back to bed. We kissed a while and I moved down to enjoy her breasts, especially her nipples. Small when relaxed, they perked up when kissed and sucked on. I loved the challenge of sucking them enough to make them stand to attention. Janet loved that too. I think she might have come just from the nipple play; except I had other plans.

I moved further down, and she grabbed my head, as if to stop me. "It's okay," I said, "this won't hurt."

"What are you ... oh, no, no, I don't," she started saying just as a reached her pussy. At this point, I hadn't seen it up close, and I loved what I was seeing. Pink outer lips, a deeper pink as I opened those lips, already wet inside, her pussy sloping toward a rosebud that was clenching as I started running my fingers along her pussy lips. I moved my head closer, and she tried to stop me.

"You can't," she said, but it was too late. When my tongue touched her clit, she jerked up in some shock. "Ahhh, you, you ... ohhh, you ...." Whatever she was trying to say turned into a moan as I licked along her clit. Now she was grabbing my head to keep me in place, as if I needed help to stay there. I did stay there, licking and fingering, her pussy getting juicier from my spit and her own juices. I lifted her legs back toward her head, so I could plunge my tongue further into her pussy. Now she was saying, "Yes, yes, oh god, oh god, yes," as she bucked against my tongue in an orgasm that got both of us even wetter. She finally did beg me to stop, and I did. I pulled away, my face glistening with her juices, and reached up to kiss her. She didn't like that, at first, but I pushed on, until my lips were on her face, and I started licking her lips. She gave in and we stuck our tongues in each other's mouths. Both our faces were a little sticky and we eventually took a break.

Janet went to the bathroom to clean up a bit, and I lay there, feeling pretty pleased with myself. She came back with a warm wet washcloth and wiped my face.

"No one has ever done that to me before," she said. "My little pussy loved it, much better than the sex last night."

"We need to work on both of those," I replied. "Sex, actual intercourse, can be even better than oral sex if we do it right. Last night was our first time, so we need lots of practice to get it right. Last night was painful for you. We'll wait another day or so, and try again. I'll go very slowly, and I guarantee it will be much, much better." And it was. We both were patient, and the sex, both oral and intercourse, did keep getting better. Janet learned that intercourse sex takes longer, but that sometimes, her orgasms were more intense. So intense, in fact, that she ended up crying after a few of them.

"Bobby, you know I love you, but when we got married, I didn't know how much I could love you. You make me light up inside. You make me happy to be alive. You make me --," saying all this while she was crying from her orgasm.

"Hey, hey, calm down. I don't think I'm going to cry, but you know I love you, too, and I love having sex with you."

Over the years we always went to bed together, even on nights when we didn't have sex, even on nights when I was overwhelmed with work from the law firm, or Janet was overwhelmed with papers to grade or lesson plans to prepare. Sometimes, one of us would get up in the middle of the night or early in the morning to do our paperwork, but going to bed together was an absolute for us. It meant we snuggled every night, had sex a lot of those nights and stayed bonded together. Until the Martian Slut Ray struck.

We had been married not quite six years when I had what I thought was the best day of my life. Macon doesn't have many flights to its little airport, sine the giant Atlanta airport is only about 90 minutes away. I had been in Nashville dealing with the retired owner of a hardware store in Macon. He wanted to make sure ownership would transfer to only one of his kids. We worked through the issues, he signed a few papers, he was happy, and I was happy: to find a direct flight from Nashville to Macon. On that flight, I met the man who made the best day of my life possible.

John Thompson was a shopping center developer in Nashville. His niche was smaller cities that, he calculated, were underserved in terms of retail opportunities but had lots of growth potential. He had identified Macon as one of those cities and he was flying down to look at possible shopping center development sites. At that time, I was a senior associate at my law firm, but partnership was still a few years away. I happened to be seated next to John and spent the whole flight pitching my law firm as the best in Macon and me as the best lawyer for doing shopping center development deals. Now, truthfully, I had never done that kind of deal in my life, but, you know, fake it 'til you make it. And that's what I did. John was impressed, either with the skills I expounded, or maybe just with my bravado. Anyway, he hired me; well, he hired my law firm.

Over the next two years, we identified the best site, formed a new LLC for John to acquire the site, pitched potential investors, closed equity and loan deals to finance the project, negotiated pre-lease delas for retail anchors, and on and on. The deal took on a life of its own and, since John was more often in Nashville or somewhere else, that life grew to depend more and more on me. I loved it.

I admit all that work affected my personal life. I had less time for my relationship with Janet, especially for those times that don't mean anything in the moment but are full of meaning, overall: sitting on the couch, holding each other and watching a silly movie, going to get ice cream at the Dairy Queen, those times that build strength and bonding in a relationship. I did manage to hold to our commitment to always go to bed together, and I think that was incredibly important for us. But often I was up at 4 or 5 in the morning to work on spreadsheets or LLC agreement issues or whatever the issue du jour was.

Finally, we closed on the major loan, on a Thursday morning, and my firm collected the biggest fee in its history. Jack Carlton, the managing partner of the firm, called me into his office, where he and the other two partners had opened a bottle of champagne. He handed me a class.

"Bobby, when you started working with John Thompson two years ago, there was some concern among us," pointing to his partners, "that you might not be the man for the job. Too young, not enough experience, not enough gravitas if you know what I mean." I stayed silent. He would not have handed me the glass of champagne if this were going to be bad news. "But you have done a hell of a job, maybe better than any of us," pointing to his partners again, "could have done. You have absolutely thrown yourself into this project, impressed everyone you have worked with, and, frankly, made us a lot of money. We had a quick partners meeting just a few minutes ago, before we popped the champagne, and voted to do two things: one, an immediate $100,000 bonus to you in compensation for what you have done; and two, an offer to join us as a partner, effective immediately, in recognition of the lawyer you have become and the lawyer we want to work with for decades to come."

I admit. I never expected either of those. I mean, I knew they would give me a big bonus, but a hundred K and, more importantly, partnership? I stood there, stunned.

"Bobby, take a drink of your champagne and say something," Mr. Quick said with a smile. I think they all knew I was stunned.

"Mr. Quick, I...."

"No, no, no," he interrupted me. "As partners, we are all on first names here. I'm Charles; Carlton there is Jack and Bingham, well, he's so old maybe you should call him Mister." They all laughed, and Bingham jumped in.

"Bobby, you call me Fred around here. But you can call me any damn thing you want to when you're paying me on the golf course after I beat your young ass." More laughter, and I did drink some of the champagne, finally. Really, I was still in shock.

"You take off the rest of today, Bobby. Go tell your beautiful wife your good news. I know you have some stuff to wrap up on the shopping center deal, but a condition to partnership is that you take off a week and recover a bit from all the work you've been doing. Take your wife on a cruise or something. Got it?" Jack, formerly Mr. Carlton, asked.

"Yes sir," I responded, as I finally stated getting my wits about me again. "And, gentleman, thank you, thank you, for the trust you've shown in me the last few years, for the impressive bonus, and, most of all, for the honor of admission to the partnership. This is the proudest accomplishment of my life." We all shook hands, finished the champagne, chatted a bit more and I headed home to share with Janet. Like I said, the best day of my life.

Janet was already home when I arrived. The next day, Friday, was the last day of school and Thursday and Friday were half days to give the teachers time to finish grading and prepare report cards. Janet was busy working at the kitchen table when I walked in.

"Honey, I have some great news to share," I started, as I shucked off my coat and tie.

"Bobby, I'm almost finished here, and I have some news to share with you too. Just let me get these last report cards done and we can talk." I got out of her way and took a look on our home computer at possible cruises departing the following week. Probably the Caribbean would be best, but many, many choices to work through. Tough job, you know, but somebody has to do it.

Janet wandered into my home office a little later, with a glass of wine and a look of some concern on her face.

"Honey, you look like something's wrong. Is it your news?"

"Well ...," she started, and I interrupted.

"You're not sick, are you? We can ...," I started in my typical lawyerly, problem-solving mode.

"No, no, I'm not sick. I just wanted to tell you about my schedule for next week. School is out, as you know, and I have signed up for a course to take next Monday, Wednesday and Friday, from ten to two each day."

"Oh, well, uh ...' I wasn't sure what to say. This was the first I had heard of a course, and I was already dreaming of nights in the Caribbean for the next week. "Um, could you, um ..., would it be possible to reschedule? I have already started to ...."

"No," she interrupted me. "James, the teacher, has already squeezed me in and I have already paid a deposit."

"Wow. Uh, okay, what kind of course is it? Is it here in town?"

"Yes, it's here, the classes are in his house, in James's house, over on Laramie Drive. "

"Okay, what is he teaching, that the course is in his house?"

"Bobby, listen, okay? It's a sex education course. James is teaching sex techniques that will improve my sexual abilities. It will be really good for me, and good for us, I mean you and me, too."

"Wait, what? Sex techniques? In his house? You'll ..." My mind wasn't grasping what she was saying. She could not mean what I was imaging, could she? "Janet, how many students will there be? All women or men also?"

"Uhh, well, you know, it will be just him and me the first day, and then he said he might bring in an assistant for the second day and maybe some more for the last day. He calls it the 'grand finale.' Bobby, this could be really good for us and ...."

"Yeah, yeah, you said that already. I have to ask: does this course mean you will be having sex with this guy?" Oh my god, I thought about her words: "And with his assistants too?"

"Well, yeah, of course. James says practice is the only way to get better, and different experiences with different people make for better practice sessions. Honey, one of my friends at school took this course a few weeks ago, during spring break. She said she had a great time and learned a lot. She said James graded her improvement from a base of 80^th percentile to 92^nd percentile in general sexual activity. And my base is already 90^th percentile so I have a chance to score really high."

"Janet, have you gone crazy? I can't believe what you're saying. Your base? How does this James guy know about your level of sexual activity. You haven't ...." I stopped. I couldn't bring myself to ask her if she had had sex with this man. If she had, our marriage was over. She had to know that. We had pledged ourselves to each other in her church almost six years ago, and we had kept that pledge alive every night since then.

"James said it was important to know my base level so he could tweak the classes to fit me for the best results." I just stared at her. This was not my wife speaking. I had to ask.

"Janet, have you already had sex with James?"

"No, that would be cheating. I would only have actual sex as part of the course. You know, it's sex education."

"Then how does James know what your base level of sexual activity is?"

"Well, I gave him a blow job, just a quickie I thought, but he said it was really great, and then he went down on me for a few minutes to judge my reaction to stimulation. Really, Bobby, this was just to prepare for the classes."

Martian Slut Ray, I thought. My wife had been hit by the Martian Slut Ray. And now she was controlled by some alien being who had no real idea of our commitment to each other. Okay, okay, I know the MSR is just a metaphor for an otherwise regular sort of wife going crazy for big dicks or guys younger than they are or gangbangs or....

"Wait, wait. Janet, you said James would have multiple assistants for the grand finale. What does that mean? Multiple partners at the same time? A gangbang?"

"Oh, I don't know. That sort of thing depends on how I do the first two days of classes. James said my high base level indicates I can do really well. And Bobby, my high base level has to come from the sex you and I have been having since we got married. We should be proud of ourselves that my score is so high without any special training. James says ...."

"Janet, listen to me, please. First, I don't want to hear that name again. He is destroying our marriage. Well, actually, you are destroying our marriage. I asked you when we first started talking if you were sick. You said you weren't, but I think you have to be, sick I mean.

"Janet, my wife, the woman I have loved for more than six years, can't be planning to have sex next week with multiple men, can't have already given him a blowjob and let him have oral sex with her. Janet, you are asking for divorce here. You know that, right?"

"Bobby, listen to me, okay? James, or, or, uh, okay, I won't say his name again. The teacher said you might respond this way, and he suggested that I not even tell you about the course. But you and I have always been honest and open with each other, so I thought it best to share with you. Look at this course like it was one of your legal education courses, except this is sex education, and I think I will learn a whole lot more practical stuff than you learn in your law courses." I looked at her like she was crazy. Martian Slut Ray, I thought again. I mean, how can a wife, how can my Janet, how can she .... Oh fuck, another thought.