Dirty Pool

I never liked the opera, but it was that time again. It was time for our annual pilgrimage into the city for some of what Jennifer calls culture. It was time for me to drag my feet and resist... Yeah, like resisting would do any good.

I don't know she ever got me to agree to it, but this was the deal I made. One weekend a year, she was completely in charge. I had to go along with whatever she planned, and do it with a smile... even if that smile was as phony as a three-dollar toupee.

Oh, and that word culture. My wife never uses that term to talk about something growing in a petri dish. Whenever she uses the word culture, it always seems to involve miserable tuxedo clad men cringing while some ugly fat woman screams at the top of her lungs. If I ever meet the man who told my wife that opera is culture, I think I'd have to just go ahead and punch him in the dick.

I suppose I shouldn't complain. I was the one that agreed she could take charge, and a deal is a deal. Besides, she only drags me off for one of these so-called cultural outings once a year or so. If I can't live through a couple of hours at an opera to make her happy, what sort of husband would I be? Still though, ugh... opera.

So like every other year I did what I had to and wrenched my tux out from the back of the closet. I even got out that hoity-toity little whiskbroom, and dusted it off for a change. I figured doing the little extras in getting ready might entice Jennifer into some hot culture trip sex.

Well, I no sooner got the damn monkey suit cleaned up and stuffed back in the garment bag, when Jennifer grabbed it from my hand and hauled it back to the closet.

"There's been slight change of plans sweetie." She proudly announced as she tucked my tuxedo back into its usual resting place. "We aren't going to the opera, and I'll be doing the packing for both of us this trip."

"Don't forget to..." I started to reminder her to pack something sexy to wear to bed before she butted in...

"I said I'm doing the packing. I know exactly what you need. Don't worry. You are just going to have to trust me this weekend, okay?"

Okay... So the good news was, it seemed that my wife had changed her mind as to what counted as culture. It looked as if opera was no longer on the table. The bad news was she specifically had to tell me to trust her. That meant she had something up her sleeve, and there's a whole litany of things I know I dislike even more than opera.

The first thing that came to mind was the fucking ballet. Jennifer managed to drag my ass a ballet once. There was no way I was going to be able to make myself sit all the way through another one of those tippy-toed dance recitals. I didn't think she would try that again, but truthfully I had no idea what she was up to.

For me, knowing my wife has a secret is bad. It's like kryptonite to me. My mind was going nuts trying to figure out what she could be planning. All I could think of was that some shithead actually figured out a way to combine ballet with opera. I had to look it up, but I found that shit is real, and of course it's a fucking French thing.

Leave it to the French to come up with something worse than either the opera or a ballet. They simply call it Operas-ballet. I would call it weaponized stage art. I mean it's obvious that no heterosexual man could possibly live through such an ordeal, all the while those swishy Frenchmen smile at their hideous creation, sip tiny coffees, and think about redecorating.

Last year, I thought her standing over me to make sure I packed everything I needed to attend an opera was bad, but this was much worse. Jennifer had taken complete control of everything this year and my imagination was working overtime. Worst of all she wouldn't even give me a single solitary clue about what she was up to.

Apparently, what she had planned was some kind of closely guarded national secret. I could only guess and then worry. Lots and lots of worry. I mean, what could be worse than some pretentious shit called Parlez Vous Operas-ballet?

Then I remembered the time she drug me off to the city for something called a buskers festival. That was the time we watched mime after mime bore everyone half to death. Not even the swishy French are immune to death by those talentless fuckers.

The suspense was killing me. I just had to know. So I pestered Jennifer for details, but she wouldn't give in. All she would say is that we would be doing something I had once told her I wanted to do, but then she would clam up and say nothing else. Other than that one vague statement, she never offered another clue.

Even during our drive into the city, she refused to answer any of my questions. All she would say was that I needed to keep an open mind, and it was going to be the biggest surprise ever.

Not until we were at our hotel did she start to fill me in on what kind of culture this particular trip's venue was going to include. It was as we were settling into our room that Jennifer finally decided I was allowed to know a few details about what her weekend in charge would entail.

"So I suppose I should let you know what you are in for this weekend." My wife's voice echoed off the bathroom walls as she set out her toiletries.

Please don't let it be the theater... Please don't let it be the theater. I repeatedly pleaded with myself.

"For starters we have a reservation at Sushi Mod." Jennifer stopped what she was doing and looked around the doorway with a raised brow, hoping I would be excited. "It's supposed to be in the top ten of all sushi places in the country. Sherri told me that even Jim thought it was fun."

Thank god it's not the theater, I thought to myself as I relaxed a bit. "Hey if Jim liked the place," I said, smartly omitting what I almost blurted out about the theater. "The food can't be all that bad. You know what he always says... "If it they ain't servin' some old dead cow with taters the place ain't for me."

Jennifer laughed. "Your imitation of Jim is dead on. He does say that. Just like you just did. That's too funny. But you know Jim didn't actually say he liked the food at Sushi Mod. He just said the place was fun."

"I'll take that. You know we can always use a bit of fun, even if they ain't grillin' an old dead cow." I responded, still poking fun at our friend Jim.

"Okay stop picking on Jim and Sherri and get ready." Jennifer looked at the time. "I made our dinner reservations for five o'clock. That way we can make it to the next thing at on my list."

"It's not the theater is it? Please tell me it's not the theater." I felt myself tensing up again.

"No silly. I know you hate the theater. You hate that almost as much as opera."

Thank god. She finally conceded to my distain for that crap she calls culture. She grabbed up her purse and dug around inside it for a bit. Then she pulled up some tickets and waived them at me.

"Check this out. We are going to the early show at the Comedy Den... And guess who's playing? Oh you'll never guess. Okay, I'll just tell you. It's David Limwreck. You know... that hilarious guy from that TV show we used to watch."

"Oh thank god. Anything but the theater." I said before I realized that I had just left myself open for another trip to a busker's festival. "That sounds great. That David guy is pretty damn funny."

I didn't really remember this Limwreck guy or the TV show she was referring to. I was just happy she didn't sign us up for yet another stuffy cultural event.

"Wait, there's more." She said in a low sexy voice. "The early show at the comedy club leaves us plenty of time for your big surprise. I'm still not going to tell you what it is, but here is a clue. It's a huge fantasy."

"My fantasy or yours?" I asked wondering when she was going to drop the cultural event bomb on me.

"Yours... We talked about it a couple of months ago. Alright, now I'm ruining the surprise. I'm not saying another word."

Then she did that thing... the one where she pretends to turn a supposed lock on her lips with an invisible key. I knew that was it. Once she does that, she won't say another word.

Hmm, I wondered as I unpacked my suitcase and dressed for the evening. What the hell could she possibly have in mind for after the comedy show? I couldn't think if a single thing that we had talked about, but it must have something to do with sex. The tone in her voice told me that much.

Then I thought, maybe that wasn't her sexy voice. Maybe I just wanted to hear that my surprise is going to be sexy. After all, I'm a guy and that's what we do. Hell, she could have said it like a lumberjack, and I'd still probably think she was going to give me a blowjob.

Sure I could have been wrong. Maybe what she had in mind had nothing to do with sex... but it just had to. She said it was my fantasy, and fantasies are all about sex, right? Well, all of mine are anyway.

As we dressed for the evening I tried the ploy of starting a game of twenty questions to get more clues about her surprise, but Jennifer didn't fall for that old trick.

Then I thought I'd get some hints by casually asking seemingly innocent questions, but Jennifer completely stopped my train of thought when she walked out of the bathroom in this brand new fuck me black lace bra and panty set.

All I seemed to be able to do was stare. I wanted to ask why she had never worn anything like that for me before, but I couldn't find the words. I ended up mumbling something about her getting laid later on. Of course she ignored me and continued getting dressed, slipping into the tiniest form fitting cocktail dress I'd ever seen, barely covering those sexy under garments.

Damn she looked hot. I wanted to ask if what she was wearing had anything to do with my surprise, but I was tongue-tied. The vision of how damn sexy Jennifer looked in that little black dress was unbelievable.

I had no idea where or when she got those clothes, and how she had manage to pack them without me noticing was beyond me. One thing I did know, it was all brand new. Jennifer hadn't modeled any of it for me, which was strange. She models everything she buys for me whether I like it or not.

I asked if I could zip her up, but there was no need. There was no zipper. That little black dress just stretched over her body and clung to every curve.

As she adjusted the fit, I noticed her new dress was all about the lines. The neckline was low, almost as low as the backline, and the hemline high. In fact, the bottom of that dress barely covered those sexy black lace panties. All I could think was with her dressed like this... my surprise was going to be glorious.

As she headed back to the bathroom to put the final touches on her makeup she pointed to the suitcase and told me I needed to change my clothes. I was told to put on the dress slacks and sport jacket with the yellow shirt. I guess this was an okay look, but it didn't come close to matching what she had on. I'd almost say I looked frumpy in that shirt and jacket compared to her. At least there weren't any patches on the elbows.

When Jennifer emerged from the bathroom, she looked absolutely beautiful. Her eyes were dark and smoldering, and her lips looked full and inviting. She hadn't done her makeup this way since we first started dating. I just couldn't stop staring. She looked so damn good.

I asked her why she had gone to so much trouble with her dress and makeup, hoping she would spill the beans about my surprise. I could have sworn I heard her mumble the word bait before she changed the subject and started talking about how we need to pick up the pace if we were going to make our dinner reservation.

Now with Jennifer dressed a bit slutty, my mind did what a lot of guy's minds do and I started thinking about the crazy shit that happens in porn. Then I thought... could that be what she thinks my fantasy is?

Maybe that was it. Was her surprise all about porn? Could it be that she wants to watch porn with me. We had never done anything like that. Or maybe... Just maybe... This was all about making a sex tape. I did have that fantasy, but how could she have known about that. I've never told anyone about that. My god, my mind was going nuts.

Then my mind went into one-track mode. All I could think about was the wild sex we might have making a sex tape... that is until a single thought made me shudder. Just a few months ago, I was pretty sure she found my browsing history. She coyly mentioned that she thought I'd been visiting some interesting web sites.

At the time I didn't really know if she had seen my browsing history or not. She might have just been fishing to see if I'd offer up some information that she could rib me about. Jennifer loves to rib me about stuff.

At the time, I wanted to give her an honest answer, but I just couldn't. All I could think about was the episode of Friends where Monica thought Chandler was into shark porn because he wouldn't admit to watching real porn in his hotel. So I said nothing and just let her comment about my viewing habits pass.

Now my mind was racing back through the things I'd been watching for the last couple of months. I tried to remember if there was anything that might be sex tape worthy in all that crap... and dammit, all I could think about was some stupid amateur cuckold video I watched.

I'm not really into the cuckold thing, but when I first saw this video I swore it was of my wife getting fucked by the biggest dick I'd ever seen. It was fucking brutal. I had to watch it three times to make sure the woman in the video wasn't her.

Finally, I noticed the woman didn't have a birthmark Jennifer does and decided it wasn't her. I opted not to tell my wife that she has a doppelganger in the porn business. She would have wanted to see for herself, and there was no way I was going to show her that video.

Like I said, my mind was going nuts. Here we were out on the town and all I could think about was my wife in a porno. It was her fault though. She had been taunting me with this surprise for days, and now she was wearing a dress that screamed fuck me. What else would a man's brain do?

It didn't matter if Jennifer's secret had caused me to think the crap I was thinking, or if it was all my own doing. My brain was headed into a dangerous area that could only lead to one thing, and that would be a confrontation.

At that point I wised up... and as I held the door for my wife at the restaurant, I smiled and thanked her for planning something besides the opera.

Jim may or may not have enjoyed the food at Sushi Mod, but was right about one thing. The restaurant was a lot of fun as far as sushi places go. It was sort of like a buffet, in that you didn't really order. You just took what you wanted as these miniature boats full of sushi floated past your place at the bar.

On top of the unique delivery method, the place had a master sushi chef like none I'd ever seen. The master chef was an older Japanese man who moved around the sushi bar entertaining the guests, using his knife handling skills to make special creations for each of the customers.

With each special creation, the chef would put on a little show. For some he would invent new sushi rolls using seemingly odd ingredients that created colorful and unusual shapes. For the women he would carve a flower from a vegetable and present it to her as if he were asking her out for a date. The man was an incredible flirt.

When the chef came to us, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of my wife. Somehow, his inner flirt had gotten lost somewhere as he was looking into Jennifer's smoldering dark eyes. Finally, he smiled a nasty smile and said, "No turnip flower for this one. For this pretty lady I have something very special."

"And what would that be?" My wife smiled back as she leaned toward him resting her chin on the back of her hand and batting her eyes at him.

"Just wait." He said. "I have something very nice for you. Something you love. Just watch."

The chef started layering fish and rice together, making careful cuts at what seemed to be very precise locations. When he put the last piece on his creation, he rolled the stack against his the back of his knife, carefully turning it inside out.

Then he looked at my wife, winked, and smiled. My wife smiled back and quietly cooed. It was then I figured out what all of their sly looks and smiling was about. The sushi roll he had made for my wife looked just like the last couple of inches of an erect penis.

The chef then waited. He wanted to make sure I realized exactly what he was offering my wife. Then he leaned in towards Jennifer asked, "This comes with sauce. What do you think? Would you like what this comes with?"

The word order was off, but I knew what he was saying. He was implying that his nasty little sushi roll could cum for her. It was a long stretch for a stupid joke, but my wife smiled back and played right along. "Maybe just a little. I've never liked to eat a lot of sauce."

That was no understatement. Jennifer hadn't sucked me off in years.

"My sauce is special." The chef said. "I think you will like it. I have been told it is most tasty."

"I'm sure it is Mister Chef." My wife teased. "Maybe I should try a little to see if I can handle a whole shot. Is there any way I could get you to squeeze out a little, um, pre-taste?"

My god what had gotten into Jennifer? She was acting so nasty. She almost said cum instead of taste... and what the hell is a pre-taste anyway? I could hardly believe what I was hearing from her. If I didn't know any better I'd say she was actually coming on to this guy.

"Here, open up and let me dribble a little bit onto your tongue." The chef teased as he held out the bottle.

My wife leaned in and closed her eyes, letting the man squirt some sauce in her mouth. Then she sat back and savored it for a few seconds before leaning my way and whispering, "It's mayonnaise."

"You are right Mister Chef. Your sauce is quite tasty." Then she got the most devilish grin and said, "That was quite a squirt as far as pre-tastes go. How much is there when that thing really lets go? Wait, don't tell me. Not knowing the how much is coming is part of the thrill. Don't tell me how much... I'll close my eyes and you can just surprise me."

The chef chuckled about my wife's buy-in to his little routine and took that bottle of mayonnaise, squirting a load onto the roll until a thick white flow ran down the side. Then he flirtingly held it out to my wife as he stood there with a nasty smile on his face.

Jennifer ate that cum oozing penis right from his fingers, sucking it down with abandon, finishing it by licking and sucking the ends of his fingers to make sure she got all of the sauce. Then she smiled an even nastier smile back at the chef.

This had both my wife and the chef laughing wildly as if they now had some sort of inside joke to use against me. What I was seeing was funny, but I couldn't help feeling a bit left out.

Then it was my turn. The chef looked at me with mischief in his eyes and smirked. "For you," He said. "For you I have something even better." Then he went to work with bits of fish, avocado and sprouts. What he was doing didn't look like much at all, but it was going to be big whatever it was.

When he was done, he placed his creation on a bamboo rice paddle, put his thumb in the middle and cupped his hands around it. Then making a show, he pulled back his hands to reveal what looked like a well-fucked, meaty lipped, hairy vagina. I laughed, but the chef didn't act as if he had made a joke. In fact he didn't even look at me. He still seemed to be completely engrossed in my wife.

"What do you think pretty lady? Can I put some of some of my special sauce in this one for you?"