tagRomanceCure For The Blues

Cure For The Blues

byjack_straw©

It had been a long, hard day, and I was, quite frankly, deep in the dumps as I drove home that Thursday night.

I knew the price of success was days like this, but I was on the verge of tears, from exhaustion and loneliness.

Let me back up a second, and tell you a little about myself and my situation.

My name is Anne and I just turned 45 a couple of months ago. Physically, I am about as average as can be. I'm 5-6 and slender, thanks to a regular exercise routine at a local health club. My breasts are average, my hips are narrow and my butt is nice, but nothing outstanding. I've always been told I'm cute, with blue eyes and blonde hair that I wear just to my shoulders.

At the present time, I am an assistant district attorney in a medium-sized city. I love the law, and I love being a prosecutor, but sometimes the workload and some of the cases I have to deal with can be wearing. This was one of those times. We were in the middle of a difficult murder case in which nothing was cut-and-dried. I won't go into the gory details, but a woman had shot her husband, and she was claiming self-defense after a long history of abuse. I was having a hard time making a case for first-degree murder, even though it had clearly been a premeditated attack, largely because the S.O.B. had, in fact, spent 20 years terrorizing this woman.

We were putting in long hours, so I wasn't getting enough rest. Emotionally, I was conflicted over this case. And to top it off, my husband was overseas on an extended business trip. He owns a very successful agricultural supply company, and he was in the midst of difficult negotiations over a new line of products from a Russian manufacturer. He had been gone for three weeks, and wasn't due back for another week.

I honestly didn't know if I could stand another week without him. I needed his moral support right then, and he wasn't there for me. I knew how important this trip was to the business, and I certainly understood the necessity of him being gone. But, still, I was feeling blue and a little resentful that he wasn't there when I needed him.

You have to understand, Bill is the rock of my life. I'm not bragging when I say that we have one of the great love stories. We met when we were in college, at a sorority mixer. The irony is that we went to different colleges that are fierce rivals, but my sorority and the chapter of his fraternity at my college were sort of a pair. We were both a little out of the social mainstream, in that we were more interested in a well-rounded education, not to mention that we threw the best parties on campus.

OK, I'll admit it, we were the hellraisers, and the DGs and Chi-Os of the world looked down their noses at us, which we considered a mark of distinction. But we studied as hard as we partied, and our overall GPA was always - always - the best of any sorority on campus. That's because we weren't as concerned with getting the richest, best-looking, most well-connected girls as we were in getting smart girls who were independent thinkers and who were fun to be around.

Anyway, I met Bill before the big game between our schools my junior year. He had grown up on a farm, so he was quite well-built from years of hard work, but he was a business major. I have to say, in my case, that it was love at first sight. I don't know what it was about him, because there is nothing about him that jumps right out at you. He's not especially handsome; he's not ugly, just not somebody who takes your breath away, and he's not a big guy, standing maybe 5-10, if that. And he wasn't particularly outgoing, not somebody who attracts attention.

But he did have a very quiet sense of self-assurance that I picked up on right away. He knew who he was, what he was, and what he wanted to be. We clicked right away, and within a month, we were burning up the 100 miles between our campuses, and we were married right after graduation.

One of the things that has always endeared him to me was the way he supported me through law school. He worked as a salesman, and I mean he worked his butt off, to make the money to put me through school. It never occured to him to be jealous over the fact that when I finished, my social standing as a lawyer would be a good bit higher than his, at least initially. We were partners, and that's the way it's been ever since. Along the way, we had a son and a daughter, both of whom are in college at present. We get a big kick out of the fact that our son is going to his father's university and our daughter is going to mine.

So I was feeling desperately blue that night. I had worked late, not leaving the office until after 7 o'clock. I was tired, lonely and feeling miserable. As I drove home, in a cold late-spring drizzle, I almost decided to stop at a restaurant to eat dinner and have a couple of drinks to unwind, but I was really too down. Boy, am I glad I didn't.

I pulled my car into the garage, got my briefcase and headed to the door, when I got the first surprise. Our alarm system had been deactivated. I was immediately suspicious, and a little fearful. As an ADA, I've had my life threatened before, and I was absolutely certain that I had put the alarm on when I left that morning.

I opened the door warily, and was greeted by the aroma of something good cooking in the oven. I could also detect the smell of wood burning in the fireplace. I tried to still my beating heart, not yet willing to accept what I suspected. The kitchen was empty, however, so I crept through the house to the den, and there, standing by the fireplace, a glass of wine in his hand, was my beloved husband.

I squealed in delight, and of course, he quickly put the wine glass down, and we hugged and kissed deeply. This was a surprise beyond anything I could have expected. In fact, I was crying as a result. My Bill was home, and just at the moment when I'd needed him most.

When we finally pried ourselves apart, he explained that he had decided he needed a break from dealing with the Russians, and he hadn't told me he was coming home, because he wanted to surprise me. He'd have to go back in a few days, but he was home now, and that was all that mattered.

I could feel myself getting wet between my legs as we talked. It had been three weeks since I'd had sex, and I was in dire need. I don't generally masturbate when Bill is gone, preferring to save up my lust for when he returns, but I had been vaguely considering it during my ride home, that's how bad I'd been feeling.

We were both feeling the nervous jitteries that we always get when we haven't had sex in awhile and we know we're going to be doing it soon.

But first we had a delightful candlelight dinner, and we talked about what had been going on the previous three weeks. This has always been one of our rituals at dinner, telling each other about our days. Truthfully, I really couldn't care less about the latest line of tractors, and I know he gets bored hearing about all of the miscreants I deal with on a daily basis. But it's a way of purging ourselves of the burdens of our work, and it's a matter of love and respect that we listen to each other as if the other's concerns are the most important things in each other's lives.

We had finished eating and clearing the table. It is part of my meticulousness that I instinctively started rinsing the dishes to put in the dishwasher, when Bill came over, shut off the water, turned me around, brought me close and laid his lips onto mine in a deep, soul kiss that spoke volumes. I could feel his hardness burrowing into my abdomen as we kissed the same way we had the first time we'd made out, way back in college.

"C'mon," he whispered. "We can do this later."

I wasn't about to argue with him. We held hands as we climbed the stairs to our bedroom. But instead of heading straight to the bed, Bill walked into the big master bathroom and started to fill the bath. He got the water just right, then picked up the bottle of bath oil and poured half the bottle in.

My pussy lurched and I could actually feel the flood of juice trickle from my hole at this. Bill knows how much I love a sexy bath, and the feeling of the bath oil on our bodies. I knew right then that I was in for a delightful evening.

Bill's cock was already semi-hard when he shut the water off and climbed in, before helping me in. Like the rest of him, Bill's cock is very average in size, probably 6-1/2, maybe 7 inches, and sizable, but not overly fat. But, my God, does he know how to use it. From the first time to today, I've never even thought about sex with anyone else. He says he never has either, and I believe him. He's stayed in very good shape, and he has a wildly inventive imagination. There is nothing we haven't done together sexually, and I had a feeling we were going to go through the whole gamut tonight, and if not tonight, sometime before the weekend was over.

We got in the bath and just held each other, soaking up the effect. I could feel all of my tension melt away as I sat between his legs and laid my head back on his chest.

"God, I love you so very much," I whispered. I say that to him every day we're together, but I never get tired of saying it, and if he ever gets tired of hearing it, he's never let on.

"I love you too," he answered. "You know, sometimes I still have to pinch myself to make sure I've really got you."

"Baby, you've got me forever, beyond forever," I said.

I slid down my husband's chest, closed my eyes and let my hair dangle in the water, while Bill squeezed the water from a sponge over my breasts. My nipples were already hard in anticipation, and even as the thought crossed my mind, I felt his gentle touch on my tits. He softly squeezed each breast, then lightly rolled each pink nipple around as I groaned lustily. I have very sensative nipples and I love having them played with.

As I lay back in the water, I could feel Bill's stiff rod poking my back, and I could feel the tingle in my pussy that told me I couldn't wait much longer. I pulled myself up, swung around and brought Bill to me, sort of scissoring our legs together. We kissed deeply, passionately, trying to make up for the three weeks we'd been apart. I could see his cock poking up from between my legs as we each sat up in the bath. I took it in hand and stroked it, feeling its spongy hardness.

We didn't wait, couldn't wait. I sat up on the edge of the tub, my skin shining from the water and bath oil. I spread my legs, ran two fingers through my pussy, opened myself up and told Bill to, "please, God, fuck me!"

It was pretty obvious that he was feeling the effects of three weeks without sex, as much as I was, because he stood up, then kind of squatted a little bit, so that he was between my legs. He ran the head of his cock between my lips a half-dozen times, just to make sure my juices were flowing good, then he slid his cock all the way up me in one glorious thrust.

We both gasped in supreme pleasure as his cock filled my aching pussy. I wrapped my legs around his waist and drew him in, even as he encircled my chest with his arms. We've spent 25 years having sex together, and I can't recall when he ever felt better than he did right at that moment. I guess maybe it was just the whole situation, with me having been so down and being so delightfully surprised by his unexpected return.

All I know is that I was hurtling on a fast track to an orgasm of massive proportions. I humped my slick hips back and forth on the side of the tub, while he jackhammered my pussy with hard, fast strokes. Lewd noises of pleasure filled the bathroom as we sloshed water all over the floor. I had to grip the side of the tub to keep from slipping onto the floor. I didn't slip onto the floor, which might have caused a serious injury, but I did slip enough so that his cock fell out of my cunt.

No matter. I turned around so that I was kneeling on the entry step to the tub, and Bill rammed his cock hard into me from behind, so hard it pushed the air out of my lungs. While he grabbed my hips to pull me back and forth on his cock, I reached under my body and strummed my clit, sending sparks of sensation through my entire body.

I was getting closer, closer, closer, and just as I was teetering on the brink, I felt Bill's cock swell, and with a grunt and a gasp, he exploded in a fountain of hot cum. That sent me tumbling over the edge into a tumultuous orgasm. I shook, I shimmied, I squealed and I wailed. I used my abdominal muscles to squeeze every drop of cum from my husband's still-spurting dick as we slid down the mountain of lust.

And when he was finally finished, he slid his cock from my hole, knelt down behind me and sucked every bit of his cum out of my pussy, lapping it up like a cat, then licking up my cunt and around my clit. That triggered a small mini-orgasm, like an aftershock, and I trembled from its effect. Then I swiveled around and we sat back down in the bath, our chests heaving. The whole thing may have taken five minutes from start to finish, but it was the best five-minute fuck session I think I ever enjoyed. We kissed again, a long, languid kiss that spoke of satisfaction, but also of continued arousal. We weren't done yet, not by a long way.

We slid back into the cooling water, holding each other tight for awhile, then we got out, dried off and went into the bedroom.

"I think you missed me," I teased him as we lay in bed. He was on his back, his arm around me as I leaned on an elbow and traced little circles on his chest.

"You just don't know," he said. "It's funny. The Russians are all the time trying to get me to go to these strip clubs, trying to hook me up with these whores, and they look at me like I'm crazy when I decline. Until I show them a picture of you and I tell them that that's what's waiting for me at home. Then they understand."

"I love you," I whispered. "You don't know what this means to me. I was feeling so down, and then to see you home. I'm a very lucky lady to have a man like you."

And I kissed him again, my passion beginning to build again. But Bill was still a little ways off from being ready to go again, and he had something special he wanted to do for me. He got up on his knees and told me to roll onto my stomach. I purred, because I knew what was coming. And, sure enough, he started massaging my shoulders, rubbing his hands over me, willing all of the tension from my muscles.

He rubbed his gentle hands down my back, from one side to the other, back up to my shoulders, then down my back again. He's not a professional masseuse - I've had therapeutic massages, and while they are sensual, they're not erotic - but Bill's hands were caressing me in a way that sent shivers all up and down my spine.

I could feel the moisture building in my pussy, the tingling of intense arousal as he ran his hands down my butt, squeezing my buns. His hands traveled down my thighs, then back up to my butt again. Using both thumbs, he parted my lower lips, sending my juice welling over his hand. He ran both thumbs down the furrow of my cunt, over my throbbing clit, as I gasped and moaned. He took his wet thumbs up my pussy, past my opening and up to my anus, which he gently rimmed, still using just his thumbs.

Anal sex is not something we do a lot, but it isn't a rarity, either. I seem to have a bundle of nerve endings right at my anal ring, and when Bill (or I) runs a finger or a tongue over it, I just go ballistic. It was that way this time. I squealed and thrust my hips back in a jerky motion, and my pussy absolutely flooded.

Bill gently lifted my hips off the bed, then laid down behind me, pressed his face to my pussy and slashed his way down my slot with his tongue, then bored his tongue into me, stabbing me with it. I humped myself back as I felt the sizzle of another hard orgasm begin to quicken. Bill's tongue was everywhere, around my clit, in my pussy, up to my ass. He bathed my whole crotch with his hot tongue as I squealed and moaned in delight.

But just as I was beginning to reach my peak, he pulled away. I groaned in frustration, but he just gave a wicked laugh.

"Not yet, my sweet," he said softly.

My heart was pounding as I got up on my knees and told Bill to lie on his back, so I could return the favor. His eyes were sparkling as he complied. Once he was laid back, I crawled between his legs and brought my face to his crotch.

I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock and sucked each of his balls, lashing them with my tongue. I looked up at Bill and grinned wickedly as I ran my tongue up his shaft. I got a big thrill as I felt the pulsing of the big ridge on the underside of his dick. He hadn't quite been completely hard when I'd started, but he was hard as iron now.

I circled the underside of his crown with my tongue, and he groaned from exquisite sensations. I licked around the head, tasting his pre-cum, before slipping my lips over the tip and letting them melt their way down the head. I slid his cock gently into my mouth and let his shaft fill me until the head hit the entrance to my throat. At that point, I had a little over half of him in my mouth, more than enough for me to use.

When we were younger, and before I went to work for the district attorney, we occasionally rented X-rated movies, and for the life of me, I could never figure out how these porn stars were able to deep throat the huge cocks they were dealing with, or why they did it. I can, with great effort, get all of Bill's cock in my mouth. But it hurts my throat, and to me, defeats the purpose of oral sex.

In my mind, taking my man's hard cock in my mouth is the most selfless sex act I can do for him, because unless were doing a 69, there really isn't any pleasure that I get from it. The pleasure is all his. I guess the same is true for a man licking his woman's pussy. And when it becomes painful, then it loses its enjoyment and becomes something sort of demeaning.

Besides, when Bill's cock gets deep in my throat like that, I really have no leverage to work his cock. I can't use my hands to guide him, can't use my tongue, and there's no room to give him the kind of motion that stimulates him. So I didn't bother trying to get any more of his cock in my mouth. I concentrated on working my hot mouth up and down his shaft, snaking my tongue around his shaft with each plunge.

I looked up, and was gratified to see that Bill's eyes were screwed shut as he enjoyed the pleasure I was giving him. I could feel my pussy bubbling, just from the sheer enjoyment of the moment, and I hummed over his cock when I reached back under my body and began to work the fingers of my other hand, the one that wasn't holding his cock, in my pussy.

My juices were covering my hand as I worked three fingers around the outside of my pussy and my thumb around my clit. I couldn't help myself, I was bobbing my head up and down harder and faster on Bill's cock in rhythm to the soaring sensations radiating from my crotch.

I don't know if it was telepathy or what, but at the same instant, Bill lifted my head off his cock as I slid my body up the bed. I frantically straddled my husband's hips, still keeping a death grip on the base of his cock, aimed the head at my dripping cunt and impaled myself on his dick, and I do mean impaled.

I sat right down on his burning hot spear and in no more than a second I was humping up and down in a frenzy as another orgasm exploded through my body. This one was quite a bit stronger than the one I'd had in the bathtub. I can't remember when I was so turned on. I bucked and moaned and cried out as my body shuddered from top to bottom.

Bill just held me on his still rampant dick, fully embedded in my twitching cunt, as the climax rolled through me and subsided. Then I leaned over and kissed him deeply, and began to make little fuck motions up and down on his cock. I was already slick with sweat and the residue of the bath oil, and we hadn't even gotten going good. Bill kept his hands on my hips as he worked me gently up and down on his cock.

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