Jill's Past? Ch. 02

This is the 2^nd of a four part story of how my wife explained a part of her past. If you haven't read Part 1, I urge you to read "Jill's Past?" first. There's not a lot of sex in this chapter, but it covers an essential part of her explanation so that Part 3 & 4 will make sense. I hope you enjoy!

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The following day, Saturday, Jill was already up with the kids at the breakfast counter talking about the weekend plans when I finally dragged myself downstairs to join them. I was still on West Coast time, three hours behind my family.

"Daddy!!" the chorus of my children's voices was always music to my ears. I hauled each one into my arms one at a time and greeted them with a big 'I missed you sssooo mmuuch' hug before returning them to their chairs.

"Don't let me interrupt," I said as I moved from one child to the next. Jill didn't resume her conversation right away, so I kept moving around the island countertop to hug her from behind. I asked our children, "Should Daddy give Mommy a great big hug, too?" Of course the children thought that was a terrific idea. I hoisted my beautiful wife off her chair and hugged her tightly, swinging her back and forth just like I did with the kids. Jill laughed despite protesting for me to put her down. I was not surprised to find that she was still naked under her oversized tee shirt. I acknowledged her state of undress with a quiet 'mmmm' when I brushed a hand over her tight butt as I put her back down on her chair.

"Oh yes, and a 'mmmm' to you too, Ward Cleaver," she laughed. It was a joke we shared that I think she heard from her parents. It was a reference to an old TV show, Leave It To Beaver. It had a character, no kidding, named Beaver Cleaver. Supposedly there's a line in the show when the wife (June Cleaver) reprimands the husband (Ward Cleaver) about his stern treatment of their son (Beaver Cleaver) saying, 'You were a little hard on the Beaver last night, Ward.' Our oldest is only 9, so Jill's oblique reference to her morning-after soreness was well over our children's heads.

I smiled at my beautiful wife before returning her playful banter. "I really appreciate your help last night putting my stuff away. If you're sore from all that work, I'd be happy to rub it for you."

Jill smirked, turned toward our children, and fired back, "If Mommy got hurt helping Daddy, shouldn't he kiss it to make it feel better?"

The response was immediate and unanimous. "Kiss it Daddy, you HAVE to make Mommy feel better," they implored. Jill smirked again thinking she had worked me into a corner. I knew the children wouldn't stop until I 'made it better,' so I took Jill's wrist and pulled her arm up over her head. I quickly bent down, once again loving our decision to use the island counter with barstools as our casual eating place. It meant that Jill was sitting up higher than she would in a regular kitchen chair and made it easier for me to reach her faster.

"I think she hurts right here," I announced as I started kissing the ticklish place on the inside of her upper arm. Jill shrieked at my touch and struggled to get away.

"Stop, stop, oh Ty, please! It's all better now! Oh, kids, please tell Daddy it feels much better." Our girls dutifully informed me of their Mother's recovery, but our son understood that we were playing a game that involved tickling Mom, so he suggested that I might have hurt her other arm, too. Pretty soon everyone was talking and laughing all at once. Given the subject and intensity of Jill's revelations last night I was a little concerned that things might be a little strained or awkward this morning, but it was a typical weekend morning at the Garrison's.

After I retrieved my bags from the SUV, I found out that we had soccer games later in the morning and the rest of the day was open until about 4:00. After breakfast Jill and I carried the girls upstairs, plopping them on their beds with instructions to get dressed for their soccer games and put all of their dirty clothes in the laundry room so we could do laundry later. We gave similar parental guidance to our son, AJ, as we passed his room on our way to our bedroom, adding that we both needed a shower, so please knock if he or his sisters needed anything. Fully aware that the present state of our household did not provide an opportunity for a shared shower, much less a continuation of last night's intimacy, I urged Jill to get in first while I unpacked for real and remained on duty for our children.

"Hey, sexy," I said as I stared at Jill emerging naked from our walk-in closet headed toward the shower. "You wanna talk while we have a minute."

"You know, Ty, there's a reason I haven't talked much about Adam," Jill offered matter-of-factly as she turned on the shower to let it warm before moving to her sink. "And now you want to know what last night was all about." It was an accurate statement made disconcerting by her everyday tone, like we were discussing a grocery list. My fingers fumbled with the tie I was trying to replace on the tie rack. Before I bent over to retrieve it from the floor, I took a quick glance around the closet door at Jill, hoping to make eye contact and gauge her thoughts. She was sitting on her make-up chair in front of the huge vanity mirror that ran the length of the double-sink counter. She was intently examining her perfect breasts.

"They're still perfect," I opined. Without looking over or answering me, Jill hefted each breast in turn, leaning forward and looking carefully in the mirror for some unknown change. After several seconds, she went back to her right breast and resumed her inspection. This time she handled herself in a more blatantly sexual way, twirling a small soft brush over her nipple. I always assumed she used that brush to apply blush to her cheeks. Once she coaxed her prominent bud to stiffen, she started pinching it lightly using only her fingernails with the same serious look on her face. Steam was now rolling out of the shower enclosure as she shifted back to her left breast making sure it received the same treatment. Jill quickly leaned back away from the counter. Smiling broadly, she tilted her head in my direction and dissolved into pent-up laughter.

"Men are so easy," she pronounced, rising from her chair and sashaying across the bathroom to me. "I love you, you horny man. And I'm very glad you still want to look at me naked." She raised up onto her tip-toes and gave me a brief sweet kiss.

"To answer your questions, Ty, yes, we're still good. No, I don't want to fuck other men. And yes, I very much want to have wild monkey sex with you." As if to prove her point, Jill sank to her knees on the carpeted closet floor, retrieved a chubby Trigger from my shorts, and took my mostly-flaccid length completely into her mouth. Trigger responded immediately as Jill held me entirely inside her mouth and rolled her tongue around the sensitive rim. Unfortunately, as soon as my cock started to respond to her oral skills, Jill slurped her way up, off, and into her shower. I slapped her ass as she entered the shower, which elicited a surprised squeal and a question from my playful mate. "Ooo, was I naughty to tease you? Are you going to spank me for being bad?" Jill adjusted the water temperature as she wiggled her ass at me through the glass wall of the enclosure. Even through the wavy, translucent glass I could see her bottom turning red where I had just swatted her. We had never really experimented with anything more than scarf-and-necktie restraints, so I was again surprised at her reaction.

Despite her appearance of frolicking innocence, I could tell Jill was both uncertain and excited by our banter. She obviously was still aroused by either the welcome home sex or the building confession she had not yet fully explained, so I thought it was safe to continue questioning her about last night's story. "So what prompted you to bring up Adam?" I asked as I piddled around putting away my bathroom things from my luggage.

"Oh, nothing specific. I was just thinking about those days while you were gone and decided it was time."

"And you want me to accept that you weren't hiding this from me for all these years because why?" I asked.

"Ty, put yourself in my place," she explained as she shampooed, conditioned, and rinsed her hair. "I mean, when I was just getting to know you I couldn't exactly blurt out that I had thoroughly enjoyed my experiments with multiple partners, you know?" She glanced at me to see I was still listening. I was, so she went on. "By the time I felt like I knew you well enough to tell you that I enjoyed sexual things that many people would consider wild or forbidden, I realized I was falling in love with you. So then I was afraid you would think I wasn't the right kind of girl to consider marrying. I sure as hell didn't want to lose you because of some silly youthful passions. Well, time kept moving along and we kept having fun in bed." Jill made a point of flashing me her amazing smile. If she ever found a way to fake that amazing smile, I would never know it and I would be doomed to a life of blissful, manipulated, ignorance.

"After we married, when I would get thoughts of those days, I felt that telling you after so much time had passed would make it seem like I had kept something important hidden from you . . . ." her explanation trailed off as she finished rinsing her body and walked out leaving the water running for me. She grabbed her hair towel and started fluffing her light brown tresses. When she caught sight of me standing naked in front of her, staring at her face despite her many other attractions, she froze like a deer in the headlights.

"You are something else," I chuckled. "We've been married for almost 12 years. I'm pretty sure that anything you did before we met has been more than balanced by all the things we've shared. Jill, the statute of limitations on college hook-ups and choices about self discovery has long passed." I whispered as I tilted her face up to look into her gorgeous dark eyes, "I know you, Jill Anne Garrison, and I love you. You don't have to hide anything from me." I kissed her, softly at first, but when it started to change from a gentle peck on the lips into a deep, romantic, loving kiss from the heart, Jill gently pulled away.

"Ty, you're so trusting," she said as she held my gaze, her fingers absently playing with my distracted dick which had surrendered most of its share of vital resources so my other brain could work. "and a little naïve. What I really want to share with you is not just about my past."

Despite the steam pouring from the shower, I actually shivered as all the blood in me ran cold with both fear and excitement. When Jill and I had started sharing explicit, albeit fictional scenarios involving other people, she quickly picked up on the slightest hint of a reaction from me whenever I naturally considered that she might be telling me she had been, or wanted to be, unfaithful. The surge of jealousy combined with overpowering sexual excitement made those moments wonderfully scary. I suppose that's part of the appeal of our pillow-talk for both of us, despite Jill's steadfast insistent that it was just pillow talk. Her repeated reassurances had actually served to dull the sweet, sharp sting of imagined betrayal, but now the emotion coursed through me with unexpected intensity. It seemed obvious to me that Jill was admitting that this pillow talk was about unfulfilled desires. That thought provided a powerful change from the usual excitement of our stories. I was speechless.

Jill must have read the conflict in my face and quickly added. "Ty, I already told you I am not having an affair. I want to share this with you because for the past month, maybe longer, I keep thinking about some of the things I did with him . . . with them . . ."

" . . . and you're thinking you would like to see him again?" I finished for her.

"No," she answered forcefully, then softer, "it's not about them. It's about me, about me and you." She paused, considering her options. "Tell you what," she negotiated as she wriggled free of our hug and reverted to her professional demeanor, "let's do this the right way. You just got home after being gone for three weeks and we have to be at the soccer fields in less than an hour." She flashed me a conspiratorial smile, then continued, "AJ is going to spend the night at Trent's house tonight. The girls have been asking all week to have a sleepover at Anna's. I talked to Anna's mom and she said tonight was good. The best part is that both Trent and Anna's parents want to pick up the kids around 4:00 today and bring them home after lunch tomorrow. That means you and I will have no children for the entire evening and all of tomorrow morning. Let's go out, a date night." Her eyes sparkled as she pulled herself tightly against me. I loved the feeling of her naked body against mine, the feel of her breasts against my chest and her warm hands on my ass, pulling our groins together. "Unless you're too tired from your trip," my wife teased. She moved her legs so she could trap my semi-hard cock between her wet thighs. "Say yes or I'll take Trigger with me and leave you at home."

"Actually, I think the welcome home was more draining than the trip," I countered. "Besides, Trigger can be hard to handle so I better go along to keep you both out of trouble."

We kissed, eyes open, teasing each other with promises of passion that we both knew would have to wait for later. As if on cue, a small hand started knocking insistently on our bedroom door. "Coming!" Jill answered with a wide, sexy grin as she turned and put on her robe.

"Holy . . . cow!" I thought out loud as Jill walked down the stairs just after 5:30 dressed for dinner. I couldn't help myself when I saw her. She had kicked me out of our bedroom at about 4:30 in order to get ready for our date and was now making her appearance.

"Why Dr. Garrison, you're so eloquent," she laughed. Her bright smile was genuine. "But, thank you, sir, for what I assume is actually a sincere compliment." With that, she twirled around gracefully, allowing me to take in the full effect of her attire. I had never seen this outfit before and wondered when she had bought it. At least the shoes looked familiar. They always reminded me of gold gladiator sandals, but with heels. The straps that wound around her sexy ankles and a couple of inches up her calves didn't come up as high as Roman gladiators' did. The short, black leather skirt was the perfect combination of hot, yet refined - mid=thigh, not so short that she looked like she was trying to be a hooker or a teenager, but short enough that it was obvious that my wife had an amazing ass on top of her forever long legs. Jill's top was the show-stopper for me. The glistening gold lame' top gathered around her throat and fell in shimmering rivers down over her chest and stomach, ending in a pointed tail that just covered the small gold buckle of her black leather belt. Only when she turned, modeling her outfit for me, did I realize the top was really just an elegant halter top with an extended front. The loop around her neck and a modest pair of broad ties across her back were all that held it against her body. The ties were wide enough that they covered the sides of her breasts when she raised her arms, but left several square miles of my wife's smooth, toned back and sides exposed. The small gold earrings, barely visible unless she turned fast enough for her silky, shoulder-length hair to reveal them, completed her look.

"So I gather that you like?" she asked, mocking my wordless stare at her beautiful form.

"Why do women do this to us?" I retorted with my own question.

"Do what, Ty?" she responded in her most seductively innocent voice. "Have I done something wrong?"

I caught the same teasing gleam in her eye that I had seen earlier when she had practically dared me to spank her, but I was too focused on her sexy outfit to pursue her comment.

"Women get dressed up to go out in clothes that only make us want to keep them home and get them out of their clothes as fast as possible. Why is that?" I asked rhetorically.

"Because guys are horn dogs who would find any willing woman desirable if she made even the smallest effort to look sexy. That's why," Jill informed me as she strutted over to the overstuffed chair where I was sitting in my khakis and printed, silk, short-sleeved shirt.

"Sorry Jill," I stood up and hugged her, barely resisting the powerful urge to drag her upstairs and make love to her all night. "But you are not just any willing woman and you did not just make some small effort to look sexy. You are an amazing woman who just devoted over an hour to making yourself look so irresistible that every man who sees you tonight will want to be in my shoes at the end of the night."

Despite her many talents and accomplishments, Jill can be surprisingly insecure at times. She accepts compliments only with some self-consciousness and embarrassment, even when the compliments are from me. Her nervous laugh told me I had scored a direct hit on that target. She defused her own anxiety by batting her eyes at me and asking, "Are you saying that you're going to wear your shoes at the end of the night?"

'Let the merciless teasing begin,' I thought, then, "Well, you did say you liked it when Steve wore his. Maybe I should try it, too?"

Jill actually gasped at the unexpected reference, then quickly recovered. "Oh Ty, you don't know clothes at all do you? Those were boots, not shoes." My wife pressed against me, swaying slightly, making sure I could feel her breasts moving gently beneath the thin material of her top. Her heels put her almost at eye-level with me and allowed her to reach behind my head and pull me forward, not down, for a kiss. She pushed her hips into mine for the first official grinding on me that promised even more fun later, hopefully on a dance floor and then in our bed.

Jill's lips left mine, but she kept her hold on the back of my head. "Dr. Garrison," she whispered throatily, "I am going to make sure that such an attentive, considerate, thoughtful, hard-working, loving, and well-hung man receives a most memorable night with his adoring wife."

Now it was my turn to be embarrassed at her sincere compliment. I turned my head to look around the room. "That sounds very nice. Where is this couple? Do you think they'll let us watch?"

Jill pulled me over the full-length entrance hall mirror and turned me to face it. "Right there."

"Oh, them," I stalled "I think I would like to watch them, but especially her, as she makes good on her promise."

"As you wish," Jill answered seriously. "but we'll have to save that for later because we have reservations for 6:00 and we need to get going."

Jill pulled a lightweight, dark wrap over her bare shoulders as we headed to the car. As we settled into the drive to the restaurant, our conversation continued to be teasing, but quickly took on a more comfortable and familiar pattern of jobs, family, and home. We soon arrived at one our favorite restaurants.

The dinner was fabulous, the salmon was done to perfection, but the real highlight was Jill's intermittent teasing. Even before we ordered, I was talking about something that had happened in one of the archives on my trip when Jill discretely reached up and took her left nipple between her manicured fingernails and gave it a little squeeze through the shiny gold material. At first I wasn't sure I'd seen what I thought I saw, but when I looked back up at her face, her mischievous smile was all the confirmation I needed. As we enjoyed the food and wine, Jill would casually tweak her nipple or seductively lick her lips just often enough to keep our arousal piqued throughout the meal.