Recession

Many thanks to HMAuthor for all the hard work in editing and improving this story from a previous version.

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Our reversal of fortune was devastating for me, but I never imagined the strange ways it would affect our relationship.

Lily and I had been married for six years when I was downsized. I think we were happy, and there wasn't anything unusual about our marriage. I worked as an accountant in the local office of a large national company, and she worked part time as a secretary for a bank officer, although her title was executive assistant.

We had some savings and a mortgage. Lily's salary would cover the mortgage, but not much more. Even if we cut expenses to the bone, we'd run out of money in less than a year.

For the first week, I spent every waking minute making phone calls and sending out resumes, but after that, I had covered everything locally. Because of the recession, we knew that we couldn't expect money for relocation, so I didn't pursue anything outside our area.

Lily said she would ask for more hours and a raise, but got neither. She had been fairly passive when it came to work, and was crestfallen when she came home. The next morning was the first time I saw a different side of her.

"If they won't give me more money, I'll find someone who will," she said at breakfast and almost stormed out of the house. Within a week, she had a new full-time job that paid more than double what she had been making. It turned out she was well known to other local bank executives, and as soon as a competing vice president heard she was looking for a job, he hired her away.

She told me he was divorced and had a checkered reputation, but the interview was all business, so she accepted the job. After a few days, she said her boss had dumped a huge amount of work on her almost immediately, and was amazed at how adroitly she handled it. We were both relieved that our financial situation seemed to be stable for now.

I continued to check online and read the newspaper for any possible job leads, and whenever I met someone new, whether in line at the grocery or at a coffee house, my conversation was always directed to whether that person might know someone who could use a hard-working, experienced CPA. Otherwise, I focused on our home, in support of Lily. When we were both working, we shared the household chores, but Lily did the majority of the domestic work.

Now, I took over everything she had been doing. I did all the shopping, cooked the meals and cleaned. It wasn't that hard.

Lily came home exhausted every night and spent most of the weekend resting up for the week ahead. This affected our relationship more than anything else.

Neither of us had been highly active sexually before we were married, and I guess the best word to describe us in bed would have been compatible. Lily had a pretty face, but her best asset was her body. She dressed in standard business attire; few people noticed what I saw when we went to bed.

In bed, I was more enthusiastic, but she was always responsive. Except on rare occasions, we stuck to one position, with me on top. I always achieved satisfaction, and I think she usually did, although I could never be sure. I felt there were times I didn't satisfy her, but she didn't say anything. She seemed content to give me my pleasure and never complained.

Now when I made advances, I saw she was so tired that she could barely go through the motions, so I didn't approach her often. After a few weeks of frustration, I brought it up at dinner.

"I know it's not your fault," I said, "but do you have any ideas? I don't think it's good for our marriage the way things are now."

"I don't know," Lily replied. "I think I'm so worn out it just seems like another job to satisfy you in bed. I'm sorry. I know it's my duty as your wife."

"Don't talk like that," I said. "What about you? Don't you miss your own satisfaction?"

"I enjoyed it when I had an orgasm," she said, "but it didn't always happen. Before I didn't mind it all that much, but now I think that I would resent it if I put in all the effort and didn't get anything out of it."

"Isn't there anything we can do?" I asked.

She paused for a moment. I could see that she wanted to say something, but she wasn't sure whether she should. "What about trying some new approaches?" she finally said in a calm voice. "I was thinking about this a while ago. Maybe instead of trying to finish together, we could work on one person at a time."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She got up from the table and began unbuttoning her blouse as she walked to the bedroom. "Follow me," she said, "and don't worry about the dishes. You can do them tomorrow morning."

She was naked before I was and lay down on the bed while I took my clothes off. I lay next to her and started stroking her breasts. Usually from there, I went to her thighs and then worked my way up to her thick bush, getting deep into the thicket until my fingers touched her opening and felt the moisture. That's how I knew she was ready.

She stopped my hands on her breasts and pushed my shoulders back. Taking my head gently in her hands she pulled it down, at the same time shifting her legs so they were on either side of my head.

I looked up at her. "Is that what you want?" I asked. "I'm not very good at this."

"Just try," she said as she opened her legs and pulled my head forward so my mouth was filled with her hair. "Don't try to talk," she said. "Listen to me and do what I say."

I began following her instructions about where to kiss, where to lick, where to insert my tongue, and how to move it. Her talk was getting me going, and I saw my tongue was getting her aroused. I started to move up for insertion. "Wait," she said. "Not yet."

I continued working on her, and she continued to respond. Her breath came heavily, and her body was writhing against my tongue. She pushed herself into my mouth, and then I felt her entire body shake as she made a series of high little cries. They lasted almost a minute.

When they stopped, her body sank back. I heard a long sigh and looked up to see her drenched in sweat with a contented smile on her face.

"That was great," she said. "Give me a minute and then let me see what I can do."

Recovered, she said, "Turn over." I rolled onto my back, and she got up on all fours and moved over me, facing my feet. I looked up and saw her mass of glistening hair at the same time I felt her mouth take me in. I was already at full mast, and she worked on me with her mouth while her hands played with my testicles.

Eventually she settled down on me, and while she was getting me more worked up, her bush came down on my face. She moved her body on me as she stimulated me with her mouth. Then she lifted her head.

"Do you have any strength left in your tongue?" she asked, and then went back to sucking, licking and touching.

I took my hands and parted her damp hair until I saw the swollen lips framing her open vagina. It looked all slimy and red, and it wasn't inviting to me, but I stuck my tongue into her anyway and began doing the same things she had told me to do me earlier.

This seemed to invigorate Lily's efforts and soon she had me on the verge of release. As she felt my body squirming beneath her, she sped up, and at the same time began moving faster on me, rubbing herself all over my face as I worked on her. As I spurted into her mouth, I felt her shake again and heard those soft cries.

She got up and went to the bathroom. I lay on the bed exhausted but satisfied.

Lily and I continued to make love the way she wanted. Each time, I would begin with my mouth between her legs, bringing her to orgasm, often more than one. After that, she sometimes would get on top of me and use her tongue on me while I did the same to her. Other times, she would mount me and move around on top of me in various ways, eventually slamming her body hard against mine. Each technique would bring us both satisfaction. One time, I attempted to move into the old position where I was on top, but she stopped me and said, "We know a better way now." I didn't try to get on top again.

One night, she came home, and she almost fell into her easy chair. At dinner, it seemed like she could barely lift her fork. Afterward, I said, "Why don't you go to bed. I'll clean up."

"No," she said. "Leave the dishes. I really need you tonight."

It seemed like only seconds after we entered the bedroom that she was lying back on the pillows with her legs spread. I went to work with my mouth between her legs and brought her to satisfaction. After I finished, she lay there lifeless. I waited.

She looked up at me. "Do you think we could just go to sleep tonight?" she said. "I don't have any energy." I didn't respond right away, probably because I was aroused and frustrated.

Then she quickly said, "Oh all right. Lie down. I'll be right back." She sounded irritated.

She got up and went into the bathroom and opened a drawer and then came back and got on top of me with my face in her bush. I could barely hear her as she said, "I'm too tired to use my mouth, but I'll make sure you are satisfied." Then I felt her start to stroke me with fast motions. Her hands were covered with some kind of oily stuff. She worked urgently, and soon I was spurting into her hands. She got up quickly, went to the bathroom and was soon in bed next to me sleeping soundly. I lay awake a long time.

The next time we made love, she used her mouth again, but as time went by, she did it less frequently, and finally she used her hands almost all the time. Sometimes she thanked me for being so understanding because she was so tired.

The first time she really shocked me was when she came home exhausted one day and collapsed into her easy chair as she often did. She lay there for a few minutes as I looked at her sympathetically, and then a strange look came over her face and she said, "I could really use some of your magic right now."

As she said this, she got up and pulled off her panties. Then she pulled up her dress, lay back in the large chair and spread her legs over the sides. I looked at her expression and was turned off. She looked at me until I got up and went to the kitchen to work on dinner.

Dinner was silent, and so was the rest of the evening and the next morning. When she came home the next afternoon, I noticed she had the same fierce look on her face as the day she went out to get a better job.

"Sit down," she said. "I need to talk to you."

I sat down facing her. "I know you are trying to find a job and you are taking care of all the household chores," she said, "and I appreciate it. But I'm working hard, and I come home exhausted. I don't ask too much from you. If you resent it when I ask you to do someting, maybe we need to think about separating.

"You will get half of what we have, which isn't much, because we owe a lot on the house and in this recession, we're not going to be able to sell it for much. I'm making enough to afford a decent apartment, but since all you have is your unemployment, you're going to have to move into a tiny hole in a bad part of town. If that's what you want, tell me, and I'll see a lawyer tomorrow."

"Of course, I don't want that, Lily," I said. "I want to be with you."

She didn't reply, but she got up and pulled down her panties and lifted each leg until the panties were lying on the floor, all the time looking at me. Then she sat down in the easy chair, pulled up her dress and spread her legs apart. I kneeled in front of her on the carpet and moved between her legs. I pushed my mouth through the bush until I found her lips. I was surprised that they were open, and the sap was already running from her. Her humiliating speech to me had excited her so much that she was halfway to an orgasm.

Every work day from then on, I was expected to satisfy her with my mouth as soon as she got home. It did perk her up for dinner, but after dinner, she watched TV for an hour and then went to bed and immediately fell asleep.

The only days that were different were the weekends, when we did the other ritual, with me first satisfying her orally and then being pleasured by her hands while I satisfied her a second time. I wasn't happy, but I didn't see how I could do anything about it.

One day, Lily came home from the office highly agitated. She looked like she had been crying. "I have to tell you something," she said and then related how her boss finally showed his disgusting side and had come on to her. She resisted, but he threatened to let her go and warned her that the recession had gotten worse since she was hired and she wouldn't find it as easy to get job as she had before. Then after he hit her with the stick, he offered her the carrot. He would give her a raise.

"I gave in," she said, shaking. "I need this job, because you still have no prospects and we'd be out on the street without my income. Do you understand?"

I didn't answer, but I understood.

She got up and went to the bathroom, and I heard water running. She spent five minutes there, and when she came back, her skirt was up and panties were off. She lay back on the chair, and I moved my face to her bush. It was warm and wet and smelled of soap. I went to work.

Her boss was as demanding sexually as he was with her work. Every day, when she came home, she went right into the bathroom and washed herself out before coming to me. This went on for three weeks, but by the end of the third week, I could see something was bothering her. She didn't say anything until she came home the next Monday. "I'm so exhausted today," she said, after sitting down in the living room. I just can't get up." She stared at me as if she was waiting for me to do something. I looked at her and felt queasy. I made an involuntary sound of disgust and walked out of the room.

Again, the dinner was silent and so was the evening and the next morning.

The next afternoon, as soon as she walked in, she said we had to talk. It was the same talk as before. I listened in silence, but didn't respond to anything she said. Instead, I asked her, "How can you ask me to do something so disgusting?"

"Disgusting?" she screamed. "What do you think I do every day at the office for you? It's just a few minutes of helping me to unwind and get some energy back. You can't do that for me? Is that what you're saying? Are we finished?"

"No, Lily," I said. "We're not finished, but you certainly don't think much of me to make me do that?"

"I think you're a wonderful husband, for being so understanding," she said, but she sounded like she was reciting a speech without emotion. "I know these are hard times, and we have to work together." She leaned back in her chair and didn't say another word.

After a minute of silence, I got up and went to her. I lifted her legs in the air and pulled off her panties. She spread her legs onto the wide arms of the chair.

As I crawled between her legs, I almost threw up as I saw the traces of thick white slime on her hair. It smelled awful, and I tried to keep from gagging as I moved to her lips and began working with my tongue. As she approached her orgasm, I almost lost it again. She pushed against me and a flood of foul-smelling white stuff came out. I tried to keep it from going into my mouth, but some of it went in anyway. It tasted vile. Worse, some went up my nose and I couldn't get the smell out of there for the rest of the night, even though I rushed to the bathroom as soon as she had her orgasm and washed my mouth and face as much as I could.

How could I do this every workday? I thought. It was going to drive me insane.

But I did do it, and when I came out of the bathroom sputtering each day, after trying in vain to wash away all the traces of the awful degradation, she gave me a smile. I never got used to it, and each day was an ordeal. As the days went by, I could swear she was getting aroused by my distaste. What was happening to us?

Lily and I had never talked much at home about our work, and she never said a word about what went on in the office, until one day at dinner, when she seemed to be particularly satisfied after I had serviced her. "My boss said he'd love to come over and watch you make me come," she said nonchalantly.

My food flew out of my mouth in shock. "What did you say?" I finally asked, shaking.

Then she told me she had decided her boss wasn't all that bad, and their relationship had changed. At first, she had sex with him unwillingly, but he had been complimenting her on her work and on her looks. He caressed her in ways he knew she liked when they made love. He even allowed her to be on top most of the time. Although he wanted anal intercourse, he accepted that she thought it was disgusting and backed off. They had become intimate in conversation, and he told her about sex with his wife. Then she told him about us. Lily related all this as a matter of fact without a hint that she felt any of it was wrong.

"How could you do that?" I asked, angrily. "How could you tell him about what we do? Don't you have any consideration for me at all anymore?"

"It's no big deal," was her response. "Don't get all worked up about it."

"Well, I'm not going to perform in front of your boss," I said firmly, "and don't give me your lecture again, because I'm not going to change my mind. Before that happens, I'll live in a cardboard box on Skid Row. If that's what you want, I'll move out tomorrow."

"Calm down," she said and pretended that she was just making conversation. "I told him you would never agree to him watching." I looked at her and couldn't tell whether she was telling the truth.

She had changed a lot in the last few months. She was now much more interested in sex. I noticed her sometimes standing naked in front of a mirror and admiring her body. She experimented with her facial expressions while posing, and her face would go from pretty and innocent to seductive to lascivious. I had to admit, it turned me on even as it disconcerted me.

Once on a Sunday, as she was manipulating me to orgasm, she caused my body to jerk. "What was that?" I heard her say. Her voice was muffled because my ears were party covered while my face was buried in her bush.

I didn't tell her she had touched a sensitive area below my ball sack, but she soon discovered it for herself. She began stroking me there, at first just to finish me faster.

Then she got interested in experimenting on me. She would find ways to caress me that would quickly bring me to the edge, and then she would stop and leave me frustrated. She'd repeat the cycle a few times before finally allowing me to get my satisfaction. I had a feeling she was using me as a laboratory to try out things to use on her boss, but I didn't say anything.

One time, she felt further below my testicles with her finger and ended up sliding the tip into my rear. Even though she pulled it out quickly, my strong reaction told her that she had found another sensitive spot. I figured she wouldn't do much with this knowledge, because anything anal had always turned her off, and she had made it clear when we were married that anal sex was out of the question.

But the following weekend, I knew she really had changed. "Are you clean inside your rear?" she asked me as we undressed for our weekly session.

"Yes," I said, amazed at the question.

"Well, why don't you go into the bathroom and wash it out a little anyway," she said.

"OK," I said, and as I was washing myself with warm water and soap, I couldn't believe what I was doing.

She seemed eager to get to her first orgasm on my tongue and then immediately jumped on top of me and began using her assortment of caresses and arousal techniques as I licked her from beneath. After a while, I felt a finger tentatively enter me and quickly withdraw. Then it was back, and it stayed inside as she stroked me. After she satisfied me and we separated, she said, "Boy, you really clutched my finger as you came." She seemed to be excited by the discovery.