Ann: The Married Years Ch. 37

© 2021, All rights reserved -- mimaster

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It was a horrible way to wake up. It wasn't that the sound was all that irritating, or that it came so early in the morning, which it did. It was the implication of what it meant.

"What is that?" Ann asked; her voice groggy as she struggled to remember where she even was.

"It's my phone," Neil replied as he fumbled for his mobile device, his hand brushing over the toy gun that was lying next to it on the side table near the bed.

Sitting straight up in bed, she went into a panic. "Oh my God... something's wrong!"

"We don't know that. We don't even know who it is yet. Relax." He began lovingly stroking the soft skin of her lower back, hoping to settle her fears as he flipped the phone open. "Hello?"

The calmness in his voice had a soothing effect on her, as did the tender way he was rubbing her body. He was so at ease, still lying on his pillow as he talked. If something was really wrong, she never would have known the way he was acting. Of course, he wasn't saying much, his words short.

"Really?" he said, followed by, "Wow," and "I see."

He smiled at Ann early, nodding that everything was okay, her heart still pounding wildly from being awakened in such a way. Her eyes had barely adjusted to the dark of the room, but she could see him mouth "Owen is fine," which was what she needed to know more than anything. But that still left many questions. If her son was fine, that obviously meant the person that called was either Brenda or Eddie, as they were the couple watching him during their weekend getaway. And if they called that early on a Sunday morning, there had to be another compelling reason to do it.

"Okay... thanks for the heads up. We'll be careful." There was a gap in the conversation as he listened. "Yeah, we'll see you later," he nodded. Then he laughed. "Trust me, I will. Thanks again."

Hanging up, he set the phone on the table, picking up the hotel phone and putting it to his ear. "What's going on? Is everything okay? Hell, what time IS it?"

"It's a little after six. Owen is fine, babe. He's still sleeping, and he's been having a great time," he said as he hung up the other phone.

He quickly got out of bed and slipped on his boxers, walking toward the bathroom. "Well why did they call?" she asked. She heard him close the door, not wanting to flood the room with light. Then again, he always closed the door when he went. But this time he never bothered to turn the light on, which was odd. All of his behavior was odd. He wasn't telling her what was going on, and he was being very cryptic in his words and his mannerisms, like he was suddenly on guard.

"Neil, will you please tell me what's going on?"

"It's nothing. Go back to sleep Pamela," he said, his way of letting her know their weekend of pretending to be James Bond and his latest Bond girl wasn't quite over just yet.

He had grabbed a robe the inn provided from the back of the bathroom door, slipping it on as he came back toward the bed. She watched him pick up the gun and his phone, slipping them into the pockets, not bothering to close the front. His sexy chest was showing, as well as his black silk boxers as he padded across the hardwood floor in his bare feet toward the door. He grabbed the room key off a table next to it, opening the latch.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to check on something. Stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Why won't you tell me what's going on?"

"I don't have time to explain. I have to get downstairs before it's too late."

"Neil, I --"

"The name's Bond. James Bond."

She actually snorted. Whatever was going on, it wasn't so serious that she should be freaking out. He was obviously being playful. If it was something that was important, she was certain he would have continued to break character like he had when he first answered his phone and just told her. Instead, he quickly returned to being Bond. Still, he obviously had something in mind. Perhaps it was a sudden surprise on his end. Not wanting to spoil it, she took a deep breath and called on her patience.

"Okay, James. But where's my Beretta, just in case?"

"It's where I left it," he grinned, happy that she was giving up the line of questioning. Happier still that she'd decided to continue to follow his lead in the play they were acting out. "Now stay put. I won't be long."

It turned out longer than she expected. She wasn't sure how long it had been, but she couldn't go back to sleep. Her mind raced, wondering what it all meant. As the minutes accumulated, she was gradually attacked by her inquisitive nature. She wanted to just call Brenda and ask her what was up. She even went so far as to reach for her own mobile phone before she remembered she'd foolishly allowed the battery to run down. Even worse, she neglected to bring the charger.

"So much for being prepared," she griped at herself.

Restless, she tossed off the covers, thinking she'd look up the number in the little book in her purse. Turning the knob of the lamp on the nightstand, the room remained dark.

"Huh?" she thought, wondering if she needed to flip a wall switch to turn it on. She hopped out of bed, moving to the wall. But when she flipped the switch nothing happened. At that point she figured she'd changed the position of the knob of the lamp, and she was now working against herself. Being resourceful, she grabbed her overnight bag, finding a small flashlight and the address book she was looking for.

"Yeah... who's prepared now," she laughed, finding the number she was looking for. Picking up the hotel phone, she pressed down on the disconnect button several times, unable to get a dial tone. Realizing the line was dead, she hung it up. "What the hell is going on?"

A minute later she was back in bed, lying on her side as she stared toward the door. Her hand was now clutching the toy gun underneath her pillow, having retrieved it from the holster he'd tossed into a bag the night before; the bag he had set on the desk across the room. She wasn't sure what was going on... just that Neil did. And if he was going to such great lengths to be James Bond and make the end of their weekend more special, she was going to go along with it, no matter what.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

While Ann didn't get to spend her entire Saturday in bed like she'd originally envisioned the day Neil told her he'd made a weekend reservation at a Colonial era inn, it was close enough. And it was everything she imagined it would be.

They'd slept in late; waking only when the sun made its way through the cracks of the blinds covering the window. She couldn't remember the last time she didn't have to get up; only that it was before she'd had a baby. It seemed much longer than just eleven months, and she reveled in the feel of the warm coverings over her naked body.

He took advantage of her lack of clothing almost the moment they looked in each others' eyes. At least he had intentions to, but he postponed those lascivious thoughts, wanting to clean up first. Placing his finger over her mouth, she knew not to talk. But she did giggle when he carried her to the bathroom, where they showered and shaved... each other. It was aquatic foreplay, all done in silence. But they were cautious not to go too far, neither one of them willing to start something that they'd be compelled to finish there.

He carried her back to the ornate bed, placing her in the exact spot she'd been before, crawling over her body and settling in next to her.

"Good morning, Miss Bouvier," he whispered as he leaned in for a kiss.

"Good morning, James," she replied in a hushed voice, her breath caught by his lips as he pressed them against hers.

They literally kissed and caressed for almost an hour, the two of them becoming lost in each other. There was no rush, no hurry to move on to something else. They acted like they had all day, because they did. It was sensual, and sexual; it was foreplay at a level neither of them had experienced before. It was the kind of thing that could make someone fall in love; in this case, all over again.

She couldn't help but contrast what they were doing to what he put her through the night before. How he'd so wonderfully tortured her with his mouth, dragging out the preamble to the hard fucking he would eventually give her over an hour later. This was so much tamer, yet it was lasting even longer. The biggest difference was she was in no hurry for it to end. Yes, she was turned on, even dripping with excitement, but neither one of them seemed desperate to move on to something more physical.

They eventually did, making love for over an hour, the two becoming entangled into one, coupled intimately. He would slowly thrust, she would whimper. She would gently grind, he would moan. It was a symbiotic dance, their bodies melded together in perfect harmony. Her orgasms weren't so much powerful as they were prolonged, the buildup long and soaring. And while the climaxes weren't necessarily explosive, the aftershocks lingered in a way that made it seem like they might never stop.

His climax was like most he had. What was different was the length of time he remained hard inside her afterward. She wondered if that was the cause of the tremors she kept having. He wondered if the way her walls convulsed over his shaft were the reason he never softened.

Eventually pulling out, he rolled her over onto her side and entered her from behind, spooning and cuddling with her like that until they fell back to sleep.

When they woke up, they had brunch in their room. Then they made love twice more, resisting the urge each time to flat out fuck. Having to control those carnal desires made it much more intense. It also was gradually building up the need for the very thing they were fighting; another aggressive, heated fuck like the one they'd had the night before.

They ordered room service again, having a light dinner before they started getting ready to go out. At first, she thought of protesting, thinking it better to just stay in the room like she'd dreamed. Then again, that dream had been to make love all day. But when she watched him walk into the bathroom to take another shower, all she could think about was the way he'd fucked her hard and deep the night before, and how she literally squirted when she came during it. She wondered if he'd fuck her ass later that night, secretly wishing he would.

But she was having so much fun with their role-playing she didn't want to ask. They were secret agents, holed up in a hotel room during a mission; making the best of the idle time they had before having to put themselves in harms way again. It was exactly what Bond would do. Find a hot woman, and take her to bed to kill time before he was asked by his country to kill or be killed. And she was doing the same as Pamela Bouvier, formerly of the CIA. Sighing, she realized she was happy to keep following Neil's lead. No matter what they would end up doing, it was going to be better if she just let it happen.

That didn't mean she didn't take a page out of her 'be prepared' playbook. When she took her shower, Neil deciding it best they take them separately so they wouldn't succumb to their lust, she got herself ready just in case. She always gave herself enemas. She'd been doing that since they got married, wanting to keep her ass sanitary just in case the mood might strike unexpectedly. But this time she took the extra step of lubing her anal hole ahead of time, the very idea exciting her.

She opened the door to the tiny bathroom, wanting to let the steam out so she could apply her makeup for the evening.

Standing naked in front of the mirror, she opened her makeup bag. "James, can you get out my dress? It's in the hanging bag in the closet."

"I want you to wear this," he said, holding up the tight-fitting shimmery dress she'd worn the night before to dinner.

"But I have a new red one I was planning to wear for the play."

"I know. I've seen it. I want you to wear this one instead."

"But James --"

"Pamela, we're only going to get one chance to get Sanchez. I need you to wear this."

She loved that he was so focused on their fun. He looked at their weekend adventure as an actual movie; each thing they did becoming a scene within it. He had the ability to take plot lines from the actual franchise and morph them into the real-life events they had planned. Of course, to that point they had mainly involved one dinner in the restaurant downstairs, followed by almost twenty-four hours of sexual thrills in their room. But to him, there had to be a reason for Bond and ex-CIA agent Bouvier to be there at the Inn. And the play they were going to see that night was it.

She racked her brain quickly, trying to follow where he might be going. There was no scene in that latest Bond flick that mirrored what he was suggesting. There was one, however, in the film before it, both of them starring Timothy Dalton. Perhaps he was combining the two. The truth was it didn't matter. He'd chosen the villain of the latest movie, most likely because of the character she was playing. With the reason for going to the play being established, she just needed to go with it. But that didn't explain his request.

"Why is what I wear important?" she asked.

"We may need a distraction in order for us to escape. If we're able to assassinate Sanchez, we're going to be hot as soon as it happens. The best way to keep from being noticed is to actually be noticed."

"I'm not following," she said, shaking her head.

"I need all eyes on you, and not on me. Now put this on," he said, holding up the slinky silver dress. "And put this on first."

Taking the gold nipple chain from his hand, she smiled wickedly. "This is the distraction?"

"To start," he winked.

She bit her lip, placing one of the tiny loops around her nipple. When she went to tighten it, she started to lactate, milk oozing from her tit. "Yeah... that may be a problem."

"Any suggestions?" he asked.

"I'll need to milk the girls before we go. Then we should be okay."

He grinned, loving how she'd taken to calling her larger breasts the girls. "You get ready. I'll get the pump."

As she was making herself even more beautiful, if that was a possibility, he retrieved the breast pump, pulling it out of the bag. Plugging it in, he pulled out the plastic cup that would mold to her breast. He was toying around with the unit, intrigued by the design, studying how it worked. He'd never really paid attention to it before, since it was hers to deal with, but he couldn't help but appreciate the intricacies of the device.

"This thing is ingenious," he said to himself as he flipped the switch, listening to the motor whir. Putting his thumb over the half-inch diameter plastic tubing, he marveled at the suction it created. "Damn, this thing is powerful."

"Yeah," she called out from the bathroom. "I told you before, it feels kind of good."

He kept playing, his thumb covering the end, feeling how hard it clung to his skin, a devious thought popping into his head. "I bet it does," he chuckled quietly. He played with the adjustment knob, changing the setting of how often the pump would pulse. It was amazing to him how well it worked, going from a slow, methodical pumping action to a full-out sucking, much like a vacuum would do.

When she finally finished, she walked out, still naked. The design of the dress wouldn't allow for her to put it on before she took care of the breast milk problem. But she was surprised when Neil said he wanted to do it.

"What, you want to put them on you?" she laughed.

Motioning for her to sit in the Queen Anne chair, he smiled. "I just want to see how this works up close. It's fascinating... the engineering that went into this is actually pretty incredible."

"Nothing Q branch couldn't come up with," she snickered.

"Actually, I believe that they did."

She sat down while he attached the suction cone to the tube. Then he screwed on the reservoir cup that would hold the milk. Pressing the cone against her left breast, he turned the knob back to the setting where she'd had it before, flipping the switch. Her skin quickly pulled into the cone, creating a tight seal. Her nipple distended, and in seconds the reservoir began filling with her warm mothers' milk.

"This is so cool," he said, holding the unit, watching closely at how the parts worked together.

"Sure beats the hand pump they gave me at the hospital. I tried it once. It was too much work having to squeeze it manually."

"I still can't believe you got this from Melody."

"If you recall, she said we were going to love it."

It was odd that the conversation had shifted into one away from Bond. But there was little choice. What they were doing would have had nothing to do with the movie. And it was just like them to be able to switch between fantasy and reality. They both knew they'd be going back into character once they were done, yet it was wonderful they could share something so personal in the meantime.

Ann actually loved that Neil was running the machine. For some reason it made something that had been so innocent and motherly become more erotic. After all, she wasn't doing it to feed their son anymore. She was doing it to keep her breasts larger, specifically for a party that was anything but innocent.

It was a party she looked forward to more than she cared to admit. If tradition held to form, she'd be gradually stripping naked in front of a bunch of friends, drinking shots whiskey and periodically performing a sexual act. It was as far away from being a mom as she could be. She'd become an actual, bona fide slut for the evening; her annual foray into a world that otherwise she wouldn't enter. It was her one chance to do things that were wild and uninhibited in front of other people, knowing she wouldn't be judged by anyone there.

Yes, she certainly did slutty things during the rest of the year. But the vast majority of those would just be with Neil. The few that weren't would involve satisfying the other side of her sexuality; the occasional encounter with a woman. And some of those would involve her husband as well, although that had become a rarer event of late.

Still, the Super Bowl party was different. It was the one opportunity she allowed herself each year to interact sexually with men that were not her husband. He would be there of course, watching her, cheering her on in a proud display of support. But the party had evolved over the years, and it now presented an opportunity that she didn't otherwise permit. As much as she had come to grips and accepted that she was truly bisexual, something she never would have imagined before meeting Neil, it was never an even split. She loved cock more. Much more.

And she'd found the perfect one in her husbands. She'd be lying if she didn't admit her infatuation with his cock. The length, the thickness, the way it stretched her so perfectly, and the way it could shoot incredible amounts of cum seemingly every time he orgasmed... all of those things played a part in the obsession she had for the very embodiment of his manhood. But the real reason it was perfect was it was attached to him. It also didn't hurt that he was the most incredible lover she'd ever been with.

While he was the ideal man for her in every way, the party gave her the chance to indulge her love of cock. Sure, she drew a hard line when it came to fucking, one she vowed never to cross. But in truth, it was never about fucking anyway. She loved the idea of playing with a cock. Feeling it grow in her hands or in her mouth. She loved to stroke them and suck them, taking it deep down her throat. And most of all she longed for the feeling she got from making one explode; looking into the eyes of the man it belonged to as he came, knowing she was making him desire her because of her abilities.