A World Where I'm Married

I didn't want to leave the bed, but I knew I had to eventually. My crotch felt like a licked-clean plate, for one thing. The room reeked of my sex, too. I rolled out of bed and entered the bathroom. The turquoise toothbrush was still dry, so I assumed that was mine. As I brushed, I weighed myself. Turns out that ten pounds was the difference between single life and wedded bliss for me. I marveled as I looked around the bathroom. I had been too frazzled earlier to notice, but now that I was looking, there was a bizarre sense of familiarity. I had never been here before, but the decor was what I would have chosen, from the towels to the bath that was more than big enough for two to share comfortably, I thought with a smile.

I finished brushing and rinsed before entering the closet. What I found was an odd hybrid of my style, Millicent's, and something new. I assumed the clothes like Millicent's were to Erik's taste. Were the thongs, too? I had stopped wearing those back in college, but now they made up half my underwear drawer. What had once been a drawer full of practical sports bras had given into integration and welcomed a vast variety of diverse brassieres ranging from the simple to the sexy to the barely existent.

I wanted to make a good impression. I wanted my husband to look at me with lust and pride, even if we had only been married less than an hour from my point of view. I picked out a scarlet thong and a matching, sheer balcony bra. I could scarcely believe I was wearing something so see-through, but modesty felt unnecessary after I had just been devoured from the inside out. I checked myself out in the mirror. I thanked my alternate self for keeping a good gym routine going. My ass looked amazing, even with a few extra pounds on it.

I grabbed a blue tank top and a pair of black shorts and finished getting dressed. I owned a lot more makeup now, I realized, but I only applied a small amount, including some burgundy lipstick, before going to find Erik.

He was in the kitchen cooking. Unlike me, he hadn't bothered to get dressed except for an apron. He stood at the stove, a spatula in one hand, tending to two sizzling pans. His bare buns remained exposed. I spent a few moments just staring, enjoying the view. I even had my own personal chef now. And he cooked naked. "Don't burn that sausage," I teased, walking towards him. I hugged him from the side and gave his buns a good squeeze. A noticeable bulge rose from his apron. I looked at the stovetop. Bacon fried in one pan, its aroma enveloping me, while scrambled eggs coagulated in the other, glistening golden and moist as they fluffed up and cooked.

"I'll be careful. You look beautiful, Sara. I love that top on you." That word again: love.

"I love you in that apron, Erik. You should wear it all the time."

"If the police weren't so uptight, I would, darling."

"Breakfast smells wonderful."

"It'll taste wonderful, too, in a minute. You want to cut up some fruit for us? I've got some peaches on the table."

"Sure." I took one of the fruits and picked a knife at random from the block. I got ready to make a cut when Erik interrupted me.

"Oh, not like that, Sara. You'll hurt yourself. Here." He set down the spatula and stood behind me. His eager hardness pressed against my ass. His arms wrapped around me, taking my hands in his. I faintly felt his heartbeat through his chest. His soft cheek nuzzled against mine. "You have to curl your fingers in, Sara. I don't want you to slip and cut yourself again."

"Thank you," I replied. He stayed against me as I sliced through the fruit properly, protecting me, my own personal guardian angel. "Like this?"

"Perfect. That looks delicious. Almost as good as your peaches," he added, cupping my full, round breast and squeezing it gently. I squeaked in surprise. His hand lingered, massaging my chest. I rested my head against his neck and let him, my nipple hardening from the stimulation.

"You're insatiable," I dreamily whispered.

"I am. What are you going to do about it?"

"Finish cooking and I'll show you," I challenged. I turned my head to look into his amber eyes. He smiled back at me and growled. Goosebumps blossomed along my arms. "Don't let the food burn, chef."

He released me from his amorous embrace and turned back to the food. "Whoops!" He turned off the stovetop burners hastily. "You like your bacon crispy, right? Eggs look good, at least." He danced from stove to cupboards and back, grabbing some plates, setting them down, scooping up a serving of eggs and a few strips of well-done bacon and placing them onto the plates, one at a time. He pulled out some forks from a drawer and closed it with a swing of his hips. He spun around and handed them to me with a kiss. "Breakfast is served, Sara. Just grab some peaches for them. What would you like to drink?"

"Almond milk?" I hoped we had it in the fridge. It felt so odd, to be a stranger in a house that I myself had filled and decorated. Even the art on the walls were familiar surprises. I could see an Alphonse Mucha print framed near the front door and a picture of me performing hung over the fireplace.

Fortunately, this Sara drank almond milk, too. Erik poured me a glass and himself some cow's milk before bringing both to the table, where I had set our plates and now sat waiting for him. He took off his apron and hung it over the chair, sitting down naked next to me. I clenched my thighs together and bit my lip, enjoying his casual exhibitionism, the way his body was completely on display in front of me, but without any explicit sexuality. His penis lay unstirring and soft, and he took no notice of his own nudity as we ate and talked and laughed together. Yet I couldn't help but feel naughty, as though this were all for my benefit, I his mistress and he my servant.

But he deserved a reward, too.

I ate my breakfast happily. The bacon was a little better done than I'd have preferred, but the eggs were just perfect, light and fluffy and well-seasoned, glistening with butter. The peaches were firm and fragrant and yielding to the bite, full of summer flavor. The juices dribbled down my chin as I ate unabashedly like a hungry child. I set down my empty cup. "That was delicious, thank you."

"You're welcome, Sara."

I reached under the table, resting my hand on his upper thigh. He squirmed. "But now I want some dessert," I told him, sliding out of my chair and onto my knees beneath the breakfast table. I couldn't believe my boldness, preparing to suck Erik's cock like this. Just yesterday he had been only a friend, and now here I was, eager to fellate him. But it felt right. I lazily pumped away at his cock with one hand as I looked up into his eyes, coaxing him to hardness.

He smiled back. "Are you sure? I thought you didn't want to waste any."

I kissed the swelling head of his cock. "This isn't a waste. Besides, you deserve it." His cock awakened quickly. All it took was a few strokes and kisses before it was rock hard and ready. From this perspective, it looked almost overwhelming. Would I be able to fit this between my lips? I was certainly going to try. I admired my new husband's cock. Its long, smooth shaft. The strong veins running along its length. The way it curved just so slightly to the left. The manly aroma wafting off of it. The heat of his arousal radiating from it. His big, smooth balls dangling beneath. And that large, threatening speartip of a head, ready to penetrate his prey.

I couldn't wait a moment longer. I tucked my hair behind my ear, opened my lips, and engulfed his cock. He moaned softly, his hand resting against my head. "Good girl," he sighed, and despite myself, I felt like one, eager to please, eager to impress. I wanted him to think his wife was the best little cocksucker in the world. I cooed and bobbed my head. His cock throbbed between my lips, pulsating passionately, eager for relief, eager to release. Its size felt perfect inside my mouth, as though we had been designed to please one another.

I grazed my nails along his thighs, my fingertips circling against his sensitive flesh. His hips slowly rocked, his cock sliding deeply into my mouth. It had been too long since I had partaken in this primal pleasure, compelling a man to orgasm using only my mouth, an action so intimate, so personal. I sucked and licked as he trembled in his chair, his abdomen shivering. His palm brushed against my cheek. "That feels incredible," Erik told me. "You're such a good girl." I smiled as much as I could with a full mouth and moved faster. His breathing told me that he couldn't last much longer. "I'm about to cum," he advertised.

I took him as deeply as I could into my tight, warm mouth. His body shook. He groaned loudly. "Sara..." Erik's cock spasmed in the confines of my mouth. A hot burst of cum gushed out of his cock down the back of my throat, again and again and again, his manhood filling my mouth with his essence.

I greedily swallowed every drop and sucked his struggling shaft dry, making sure I didn't miss a single delicious drop of his semen. And finally, when his body had emptied itself into me and his satiated penis began to wilt, I released his moistened member from my mouth and looked up at him proudly, awaiting my praise for a job well done.

He rubbed the back of his hand against my cheek. "Mmm, good girl. That was incredible. I love you."

I kissed his hand and fingers. "Thank you. What do you want to do now?"

"I thought you wanted to check out the art museum before we went camping today. You still want to go?"

"Sure, that sounds great."

He smiled. "Let's get ready then." He helped me to my feet and I followed him to our bedroom. He got dressed as I watched. "You know, I really love when you swallow right before we go out," he explained, buttoning up his black shirt. "I just love the thought of my cum inside of you, safe and sound, while you're out there talking to people and going about your day. Like a little secret that only you and I know about. A symbol that you're mine. That little part of me protected inside of you."

My body warmed up, from my cheeks to my breasts to my cunt. "I like that, too," I confessed, rubbing my stomach. He was right. I carried a little piece of Erik inside of me right now, and no one but us knew it.

Erik came out of the closet fully dressed. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"Yeah!"

We got into the car and drove to the museum. We still lived in the same city. The drive there went by quickly as I tried to learn what I could about my new life without making Erik suspect I was amnesiac. It wasn't easy. I had to ask a lot of leading questions and pretend there were a lot of names just on the tip of my tongue in the hopes he would supply the unspoken information himself.

I wondered whether I could really do this. Whether I could settle down here, in a new universe, and start a new life with Erik. Where was his wife? Was she enjoying single life back where I came from? Or was she just gone? How was I going to do my job without any memories? Interact with friends? I could learn. I could claim a nervous breakdown and people would forgive my little lapses, wouldn't they? Maybe this was possible.

We reached the museum and wandered the halls together. I hadn't been there in years, I realized. Walking past the artwork filled me with peace and awe. Erik reached out to hold my hand and I squeezed back, clinging to his arm like a newlywed. We almost tripped going up the stairs, but I didn't care. And I couldn't deny feeling a little thrill thinking that none of the dozens of people around us had even an inkling that I had just swallowed Erik's cum and still held it securely in my stomach.

I had forgotten that Erik had been a history major in college, but as I listened to him explaining who was who in the various paintings, it became obvious. "Who's she?" I asked, pointing towards one painting.

Erik checked the display plate. "Oh, that's Niobe. She bragged about how she had many children and the goddess Leto only had two. So Leto sent her two children, Artemis and Apollo," he said, pointing to the two gods, "to kill all of Niobe's children."

"Oh, wow."

"Yeah, gods are jerks."

We walked to the next painting. "Who are they?"

"The Sabine women. When Rome was first founded, there were no women. They were mostly bandits and vagabonds and they had a bad reputation, so none of their neighbors wanted to marry them. So Romulus hosted a festival and invited all his neighbors, who came with their wives and daughters.

"During the festival, Romulus signalled to the Romans, and they kidnapped the women who had come, taking them for themselves, and fought off their men. That's why we carry the bride over the threshold, actually, because Rome's first brides had to be forcibly carried into the house. Well, the Sabines invaded Rome to take back their women, but during the battle, the Sabine women ran between the two forces, unwilling to see either their fathers or husbands perish. The Sabines and Romans joined together, and a few of the Roman kings were actually Sabines."

"So even though they were kidnapped at first, they learned to love their new husbands?" I asked.

"They did."

"I see." I stood at that painting for a long time. They learned to love their new husbands. Could I? Erik hadn't kidnapped me, but the universe certainly had. We walked towards the next painting. "Tell me about him."

By the time we had finished with the museum, we felt peckish enough for a small meal, so we ate in the cafeteria there. He got a burger and fries, I got a salad and stole a pretty good fraction of his french fries. While we ate I kept thinking about the Sabine women. Their world had been turned upside down, they found themselves with new husbands, and they nevertheless settled down and made the best of it, even learning to love their new spouses. I studied Erik's amber eyes, his long lashes, his regal nose, his messy, black hair, and his soft, wide lips. I hadn't seen him clean shaven since college, but it suited him. He looked younger, innocent, almost adorable. Could I do the same as they?

We returned home and got ready to go camping. Fortunately, Other Sara had done all the packing yesterday before she mysteriously vanished. All I had to do was familiarize myself with what we were bringing, but she looked like she had been prepared. Not for vanishing, of course, but then again, neither had I. I couldn't fault her for that. We loaded up the car and drove into the mountains.

We passed the time listening to podcasts and stand-up comedy. Luckily, my phone was locked with just my fingerprint, so I was able to spend some time going through old texts and emails, trying to learn more about my life. Quotidian texts reminding Erik to pick up milk or complaining about clogged sinks and uncleaned rooms alternated with devoted missives of love and lust. I nearly dropped the phone the first time I came across a topless photo in the text and realized I was staring at my own firm, bare breasts, my brown nipples pebble-hard, hastily flashed for the camera in what appeared to be an office cubicle. A photo of Erik's already familiar hard cock followed soon after. My life here appeared marvelous, from the outside, at least. Even a few of my friends were the same.

While I studied my phone, the scenery changed around us. The suburbs became fields, and the fields were replaced with hills that grew into mountains. Green, thick forests filled the view, and soon the only sign of mankind was the road on which we drove and the occasional other vehicle. Eventually, even pavement was left behind and the road turned first to gravel and then to worn dirt.

We pulled up to a wide, flat space and parked the car. Another vehicle could just barely be seen further down the road, and a clear stream meandered nearby. Nearby trees kept the site shaded and provided some privacy, as well. "Let's get set up and we can go for a hike before dinner," Erik suggested. I agreed, and we set up our tent and moved our supplies out of the trunk, setting up a little ways away from the road, next to the stream. Fish swam through the water and dragonflies buzzed above, darting this way and that, and all the while, cicadas sang their droning songs.

Erik took my hand. "Come on, darling, let's go," he said as he led me into the woods. I simply followed, only somewhat regretting my earlier decision to wear a thong today. But the forest was beautiful. The air was fresh and clean and pure. We only ran into a few other people, but most of the time we were alone, just us and nature. We even saw a deer at one point through the trees, before it leapt away.

"I'm hungry," I grumbled after a while.

"Want to head back and catch some dinner?"

"Oh, I thought we brought dinner."

"Just some veggie kabobs. We gotta catch the main course ourselves. Did you forget?"

"Yeah, it just slipped my mind. I was having so much fun with you."

Erik gave me a tight hug and kissed my forehead. "Aww. I'm having so much fun with you, too, darling. I love you, and I love spending time together, just us."

"I love you, too," I replied, and this time, it almost felt sincere.

We got our fishing poles and set up some chairs by the stream. Erik put the nightcrawler on my hook for me, while I provided moral support, and we cast our lines into the gurgling stream. The sun shone upon us. The presence of the clear, cool mountain stream brought relief from its rays. If we weren't fishing, I'd probably be swimming in it right now. But I could always save that for tomorrow. It didn't take long before my bobber dipped into the water.

"Oh!" I shrieked. I pulled on the line and reeled it in.

Erik stood up and peered into the water. "I think you've got it," he said.

"I do! I can feel it!" The water splashed about near my bobber as my catch drew closer to shore. I pulled back on my rod and a thrashing trout soared into the air. "Look, Erik! I caught one! It's so big!"

"That's great!" He grabbed the trout and pulled it off the hook. "You might want to look away, Sara," he warned me, as he got his knife ready. I turned away and watched the stream until Erik told me it as alright to turn back around. Some minnows came near the shore and I waved my hand so they'd flee my shadow.

"Where'd the fish go?" I asked.

He pointed towards a wicker basket with a reddened hand. "I put it in the creel. Want to keep it nice and cool until it's dinner time. Let's catch another one and I think that'll be enough for dinner."

"Fisherman Sara's on it!" I cheered. Soon we had a second fish caught, prepared, and tossed into the creel for dinner. Erik cleaned himself and his tools, and we carried our dinner back to the tent. I got some wood for the grill while Erik prepared the fish and took out the mushroom, eggplant, and zucchini kabobs from the cooler. We put the fish into grill baskets and put them and the kabobs on the grill. Soon the aromas of smoke, roasted vegetables, and sizzling fish intermingled in the air. "This is nice."

"It is," Erik said, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me closely against him. "Hope it tastes nice, too. I'm starving."

Once they finished cooking, we put our fish and kabobs onto plates and ate. There was a smokey, natural richness to the simple and rustic meal, sauced with a mélange of hunger and exhaustion. And it tasted all the better because we had caught it ourselves. We ate our well-earned meal side by side, and soon all that remained were bones and skewers.

By the time we finished dinner, the sun was getting low in the sky. I was ready to spend the rest of the evening snuggling up in the tent with a good book and Erik, but he insisted we go for one more quick hike while we still had sunlight. He grabbed a backpack and led the way into the woods confidently, purposefully, checking his GPS from time to time as a guide.