Open House (Full Version)

She knew that - all in all - it was a good trade off, eliminating sexual openness and freedom for a stable, drama-free life with a good man. Christian couples weekend session topics danced around spousal sexual intimacy, hinting that sex for pleasure only, especially "debasing, perverted sex" (oral or anal, she wasn't sure) was sinful. She knew by Robert's reaction that he would never venture down those paths, and for the most part, she honored that.

On one occasion, after his company Christmas party, they were uncharacteristically frisky in the car on the ride home and Easy Andi briefly appeared. As he drove, she reached over and rubbed his pants, feeling him get hard. He looked so handsome that night at the party, and she felt proud to be arm in arm with him. For the first time in ages, she actually really wanted him, not that she was repulsed by him – quite the opposite, but it was much better to avoid the "vanilla" sex that always brought resentment that she couldn't do what she wanted to do to him, what she was "meant" to do. She unfastened his belt, opened his pants and pulled his half-hard cock out, salivating as she did it, knowing it would be in her mouth in a matter of seconds.

As she shifted positions to reach him, he pulled over. Thinking that he was doing it for safety reasons, she felt herself getting wetter, knowing that FINALLY she could get what she longed for. Instead, he gently admonished her – telling her it was the devil's doing – not hers, and zipping back up before heading back out onto the road. She almost told him – it's NOT the devil, it's ME that wants you to fuck my mouth, but of course she held back, as a good wife should.

Over the years, she found herself longing more and more for her "alone" time, giving her a chance to explore her body, knowing that Robert wouldn't be home for several hours. There were even times that he would travel for work, which allowed her ample opportunity to play. At first it was enough to just substitute common items to satisfy her oral fixation while fantasizing about her trashy past. Her mind became quite good at building scenarios, most of which concluded with her deep-throating a hard throbbing cock.

When they made their first computer purchase, she was fascinated by the functionality, and found herself testing the search engines such as alta vista and later google to find the most bizarre topics. Suddenly a whole new world opened up to her, and she struggled to wrap her mind around the seemingly infinite amount of information that was now available at her fingertips. Her exploration started innocently at first, and she downloaded several recipes that were shared on line. Later she would search on pastimes, reading up on hiking, needlepoint, famous authors, etcetera.

It was quite by accident that she discovered the seedy side of the web. Clicking on a series of novels, "The Joy Of Sex" suddenly appeared in front of her in bold letters. What if she keyed in "oral sex," she wondered.

Needless to say, over the course of several months, Andrea's curiosity grew, fueled by the seemingly infinite amount of information available on virtually any topic. Andrea found that she couldn't wait for Robert to leave in the morning so she could continue her "education" on line. The more she viewed, the further she regressed. Clicking on a new link, she ultimately discovered a sexual chat room and was shocked – but also thrilled – to find others out there with similar desires to be fulfilled. With each foray into the rooms, more and more of Easy Andi would appear.

Although she told herself that it was "virtual", so what harm was there in exploring that side of her, it became harder and harder for her to revert to the demure Christian wife in time for Robert to come home. Could one person be both conservative AND shamelessly slutty? She wondered which of her personalities was the real Andrea, but deep down she knew.

Still, she was somehow able to keep up appearances. She filled her time by volunteering at church whenever possible, which helped her to keep her mind off of what she found herself craving more and more. "Easy Andi" still appeared almost daily, but always when she was alone under the covers or exploring on line. She even used that as her chat room name a few times, and it only served to intensify her desire. With Robert away on yet another business trip, her morning started out like so many others had before, with a basic breakfast consisting of fruit, yogurt and a slice of wheat toast, followed by her morning run, then a nice hot shower.

She was SO in the mood to fantasize – to become Easy Andi yet again this morning. With Robert out of town for one more day, she planned to "chat" through the morning, signing in yet again as "Easy Andi" and ignoring most of the chat requests that popped up.

She had become quite popular on this particular site, and she learned to be especially creative at roleplaying. For those on the other side of the connection who were up to the task, she would slowly pull them into her fantasy world within the roles, and she rarely failed to bring them to climax through her written words. It was disappointing at first to excite them enough that the screen would get quiet, then they would disappear without comment. Later they often reappeared, claiming connectivity issues or interruptions, but she knew better. Still, Andrea always felt a sense of accomplishment and dirty pride at a job well done.

This morning, she again ignored most of the vulgar chat requests, but one caused her heart to skip a beat. It simply read, "Andi – we camped together in the Carolinas...How have you been"?

Stunned, she felt that it had to have been a coincidence, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she couldn't resist responding, wanting more details in order to see if it was someone from her real past or her cyber present. She tentatively answered, telling him he must be mistaken.

Where in the Carolinas? It seemed like minutes went by as she waited for a response. When there was none, she felt both relief and disappointment for some reason.

Finally, the window opened, with the comment, "Does Camp Chatuga ring a bell?""

Andrea stared at the screen in stunned silence, realizing at that moment that the person on the other end DID know her, and he probably knew her intimately. In fact, over the next twenty minutes he provided enough graphic detail that she was sure he was on the receiving end of one her very early excursions into the world of oral sex. She should have been horrified, and in a way she was, but her overwhelming emotion was one of pure lust, as she was thrust mentally back to that time when she was the center of attention, the sexual outlet for any horny boy who had the nerve to step up. The man on the other end of the connection prodded her with a series of bold questions, and the more he asked, the wetter she found herself getting.

How many men had she sucked? She had no clue but guessed it was easily more than one hundred, excluding repeat customers. Where was the wildest place that she rode a cock? That was easy – in the fellowship hall while church services were going on not fifty feet down the hall. Shamelessly she punched the keyboard, sharing way too much information, and getting more and more worked up with each typed response.

Easy Andi resurfaced, and this time there was no denying her. Typing became more sporadic as her left hand found its way inside her yoga pants. God, she missed this side of her. Could she actually cum like this, legs parted in front of her computer in the formal study, surrounded by bibles and other religious publications? She flashed back to the summer camp as she abandoned her typing altogether, alone in the study – just her, the memories and her fingers working their magic under her panties. She was lost in a myriad of past sexual excursions combined with new fantasies, getting oh so close to an earth-shattering climax, when it all came crashing to a halt with the ringing of the doorbell and a hard knocking on the front door.

Peeking out the window from the study, she saw the cable truck and realized that even though they gave her an insanely wide window for their expected arrival, they were actually here more than two hours early. With no time to properly tidy up and quickly working to recover from her lustful state, she tried within seconds to assume the role of conservative Christian housewife, straightening her hair and composing herself as she hurried out of the study, for some reason unconsciously grabbing a bible on her way out, and shakily working her way down the hall.

Please God, bring me a balding overweight middle-aged smoker, she thought to herself. Opening the door, she knew with a single glance at the technician that this was not going to end well. Probably in his early 30's, tall, toned and tan, he looked nothing like the type of technician that she prayed for just moments before. Greeting her was "Clint" – the perfect porn name for a service technician - clearly showing on the pocket of his shirt. He sported a full head of dark hair in need of a haircut but not overly long, a chiseled chin under perhaps a three-day stubble, and a shy smile showing ridiculously white and straight teeth.

Be strong, she said to herself as she let him in the door and directed him to the family room. She did her best to avoid shaking her firm ass as he followed her there, but she knew he had to be watching it – after all, he WAS a man.

Something took over her, and with the last two steps she couldn't resist an exaggerated swaying of her hips. Pointing out the television and the control box, she bent down from the waist to turn it on, exposing her ass and mound from behind through her clingy yoga pants, legs slightly parted, almost begging him to look. Her pink Cape May T, although oversized, shifted as she bent over, allowing a brief glimpse of her lower back and possibly a hint of her breast, depending on the angle.

She excused herself, telling him to yell if he needs anything. Before leaving the room, she stole a glimpse at his bulging slacks and blushed, realizing that her movements had done the trick. Quickly escaping to the powder room, she tried to compose herself while washing her previously occupied hands. Looking in the mirror, she realized that her face was still flush with desire built up from prolonged masturbation combined with the excitement generated from seeing Clint's bulge just minutes before.

Picking up her bible, she opened the powder room door, turned the corner and smiled nervously as she caught Clint adjusting his bulge. Looking up at her with panic, he realized that her focus wasn't on his eyes. Biting her lip, she stared at his tented pants and his hand covering his thick member. The bible dropped on the floor, and what seemed like minutes went by. A bead of perspiration formed on her upper lip, and she licked to wipe it, not thinking that the action only served to intensify his erection. He stammered, saying, "I'm so sorry...," taking a half step backward; however, his knees hit the couch and before he could catch himself, he slowly fell back onto the sofa.

Lust in her eyes, Andrea first reached down to pick up the bible that she dropped earlier, but her mind had other ideas. Down on one knee, maybe five feet from Clint, she looked up. In her position, he could see down her top, and in her haste to answer the door she was still without a bra. Knowing her small breasts were likely exposed didn't faze her at all. Instead, it served to fuel her desire. Realizing that he was now lost in the heat of the moment, she allowed him to spend as much time as he needed before slowly crawling over in front of him as he parted his legs.

She knew the time had come and there was no turning back. Her head spun as she unbuckled his belt, unsnapped and quickly unzipped his pants. In her mind, she was back in the Carolinas, eagerly taking on anyone who wanted her mouth, and she was long overdue to showcase her talents. Clint reached down clumsily and tried to pull her T up and off, but she didn't have time for that. He only was able to pull it to just above her breasts when she couldn't wait any longer.

Yanking his boxer briefs down, she allowed the thick hard cock to brush against her flushed cheeks, looking up at him hungrily before taking the head into her waiting mouth. This was what she was born for, she thought, as she lowered her head to take him deeper. For the first time in decades, she was exactly where she wanted to be, where she LONGED to be. And then, within seconds it all came tumbling down.

With the opening of a door and Bob's unexpected early return from a business trip, the façade was exposed, and her life was turned completely upside down. Even so, she was ashamed to realize masochistically that her only real regret was in not completing the job in front of her, failing perhaps for the first time in her life.

With the awkward and hurried exit of the technician, Bob could only stare at her with a combination of confusion and disgust. Shaking his head, he dumped the contents of his carry-on bag in the laundry room, trudged to the master bedroom and packed his essentials. Within thirty minutes, he was gone. Andrea, shamed and shocked, peeled off her T and yoga pants and took a long hot shower. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she realized what had just unfolded, but despite that, a combination of the hot water and the memory of that delicious cock briefly thrusting into her wet and willing mouth overtook her.

What was wrong with her, she wondered? She couldn't help but reach down and touch. The touch from her fingers was soon replaced with the gentle spray from the showerhead as she held herself open and aimed at just the right spot. Maneuvering the showerhead inches from her mound, her other hand slipped around to her ass and gently probed the tight hole, remembering that time long ago when a much younger and more naïve Andrea allowed her boyfriend inside the virgin passage. Although she wanted it to last, the memory and the water made it impossible to hold out, and despite the circumstances, Andrea experienced her most earth-shaking climax in years.

After drying off and dressing, she returned to the family room. Her mind raced as she began replaying the earlier scene in her mind. As she straightened up the room, out of the corner of her eye she spotted the bible, still lying face down and opened at the foot of the couch. Her hand shook for some reason as she reached down to pick it up. Holding it gently in her hand as if it were a wounded bird, she turned it over to find a slightly ripped page clinging to the rest of the book, a likely casualty of its collision with the floor earlier.

Finding a tape dispenser, she placed the bible on the end table and prepared to reconnect the stray page. Working to align the page, tape in hand, her heart suddenly sank. She blinked in disbelief as she stared down at the passage before her. Corinthians, chapter six. Although the print was in the same small font as the rest of the passages, verse eighteen seemed to boldly jump out at her, "Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body."

A single tear dropped onto the page as she completed the surgery, closing the book and returning it to its place in the study along with the other theological manuals, each of which – she sensed – were judging her as she left the room.

The following weeks were spent going through the motions of her mundane life and waiting for Bob to call or stop by, which he occasionally did, although it was primarily to pick up a clean set of clothing or to do a few loads of wash. He was detached but civil. There was no mention of a reconciliation, no mature discussion of the situation, no thought of counseling. Andrea made a token effort to talk through the issue, but it was clear that Bob had mentally and emotionally checked out. Two months later, they were formally separated, and Andrea reluctantly resigned herself to the fact that she was virtually a single woman for the first time in more than two decades. Would she take advantage and revert to her old ways, or would she work yet again to rebuild her self-esteem? Even Andrea didn't know the answer.

CHAPTER FOUR – Life Goes On, Barely

PRESENT DAY

As Bob's old car labored down the road, his mind raced as he thought back to the day's events. What started as another dull weekend turned out to be ANYTHING but, and he thought to himself, boredom is way too under-rated. As much as he thought he needed more excitement in his life, today's events – mutual exhibitionism/masturbation and later, casual anonymous, dangerous sex - proved to be way too extreme for him. Why, he wondered, couldn't there ever be a happy medium?

He pulled in to his apartment complex and squeezed the old Toyota into the last remaining space, totally oblivious to the fact that he was seconds away from potential castration – or worse - just a short time ago. He passed by two thugs smoking in the lot, and one of them commented under his breath, "Nice fucking car, dude." Wishing he could pull a "Clint Eastwood" move, he instead chose to ignore them and climbed the broken steps to his depressing studio apartment.

Entering, he passed through his combination living room/bedroom and bee-lined for the bathroom, hoping there would be hot water tonight. He was in luck – kind of. He settled for lukewarm water, showered and toweled off. Pulling on a pair of old sweats and T-shirt, he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and plopped down in his cheap but comfortable recliner. He fumbled for the remote, hoping to catch a football game, but instead was greeted with an info-mercial, claiming that, "You too, can master the guitar in just 2 months!"

He laughed as he reminisced about his own struggles in trying to pick up the basics, and he glanced at the corner of the room where his long-neglected guitar case rested. He remembered passing a pawn shop on the way from his former home with the guitar in the passenger seat. The temptation was there to abandon it, but something told him to hang onto it rather than sell. He hadn't touched it in the months since he moved here, nor had he opened the case in probably the past five years, or more. Sadly, today it only really served as a coat rack.

Still, he wondered if he could even remember any chords. Surely there were no riffs remaining in his old brain, but chords – just maybe. He sipped and thought back to simpler times, when he would sit down with a six-pack of beer and work his way through acoustic versions of basic classic rock songs. By the fourth of fifth beer he would usually have them figured out, and after a six-pack, his terrible singing voice didn't sound nearly so bad – at least not to him.

Based on his close call earlier in the day, he figured that it was probably time for him to take a break from his open house fantasizing and realtor-stalking. Instead, maybe he could dust off the guitar and try to rediscover another passion. He sat back on his bed/couch and thought back over the day's bizarre events and his experience with Rosa. As he took another look at the old guitar case, he closed his eyes, folded his hands and for the first time in nearly a year, said a short prayer of thanks. From out of the blue, he also prayed for Andrea before eventually falling asleep, beer in hand.

Across town, Andrea took a final peek into the mirror. Her turquoise blouse nicely complemented her auburn hair, which now reached just below her shoulders. She had to admit that despite the turmoil of the past several months, appearance-wise, she looked stunning. Amazing what a depression-induced loss of appetite and near-obsessive workout routine could do, she thought. She slid on a new pair of white slacks, still amazed that she was finally able to fit comfortably into size nine clothing. Unfortunately, nearly her entire wardrobe consisted of sizes twelve through sixteen, so it was going to take some time and money to replenish it fully, and she wasn't exactly raking in the cash with her sporadic temp jobs.