Sex And Susan Adams Ch. 01

Regrettably, this sexual intercourse, while physically and emotionally satisfying, was not having the expected results, pregnancy-wise. After Jim's return from camp, August was a month of seemingly endless screwing, and with great expectations, Susan looked forward to the unmistakable evidence that their strenuous efforts were going to, by next April, produce a baby. Unhappily, her period arrived on schedule, but, of course, they saw that as merely a postponement. When the result was the same in September, the disappointment was more intense, and Susan made sure to count the days to her most fertile period the next month, and they "worked" overtime to maximize their chances. Unfortunately, the results were the same as Susan continued her regular monthly cycle. Despite advice that this was not particularly unusual, panic began to set in, making their sexual encounters less spontaneous, with the emphasis less on physical satisfaction than on producing a pregnancy. With a failure in November, both Susan and Jim really began to fear that Susan was infertile. Jim, when Susan had expressed those fears, had been quite supportive, saying that he be would happy to adopt if they couldn't have their own children. But, while his feelings eased Susan's mind, she knew she would be crushed if she couldn't have her own baby, a feeling probably inculcated by her mother who say "motherhood" as the reason women were on earth. Susan was not that irrational, but finally, compelled by her fears, she consulted her gynecologist, underwent a battery of tests by a fertility specialist, and was informed that her system was perfectly normal and that her ovation cycle was on schedule.

Needless to say, this news brought tremendous relief to them, but that relief was to be short-lived. After the positive results for Susan, the specialist suggested that it would be best to have Jim checked. That was when the roof fell in. The tests showed that while Jim technically was not infertile, his sperm count was too low to impregnate a woman. The doctor said that when a man with a normal count ejaculates into a woman, millions of tadpole-like sperm cells begin to stream through her tubes in a mad dash to find an egg to fertilize. In Jim's case, his ejaculate contained only, at most, a few hundred cells, statistically too few to have any real chance to complete the arduous journey. If they got there, they would be effective, but he had a better chance of being struck by lightning than for that to happen. However, the doctor did say, "Of course, people do get struck by lightning." They grabbed onto that last statement and were determined to multiply their efforts during Susan's fertile periods to increase their chances, but realism, combined with failure in December and January, took its toll. Jim was distraught at first, but soon resigned himself and accepted the idea of adoption or artificial insemination, another idea the specialist had proposed.

For Susan, however, the doctor's findings had been devastating, and, despite her attempts to remain optimistic, the continual, and probably permanent, failures began to destroy her hopes for the future. Looking back at it later, it seemed that she might actually have had a sort of mental breakdown. Any mention of artificial insemination sent her into a fit of rage, and even the idea of adoption was met with scorn. Her personality changed from being cheerful, even bubbly, to unsmiling and morose. She snapped at people, found slights where none were intended and, in general, became a person with whom no one wanted to associate. For example, free evening often had been spent in pleasant conversation with Don and Jean, but Don, who had found Susan to be delightful as well as sexually attractive, announced after several tense hours one night, that he wanted nothing more to do with Susan until she "shaped up." Even Jean, who still enjoyed their Friday nights together because Susan's bad humor seemed amnestied by watching her favorite movies, began to avoid her at other times.

Still, the person who suffered most was Jim. Susan knew intellectually that he was not to blame for a physical failing, but that didn't help her emotional reaction. She aimed waspish remarks at him, knowing as she did so that she was being unfair. That guilty feeling led to resentment which led to more snide or scornful comments. It was almost as if there were two Susan's in her body, the considerate, thoughtful and kind Susan in the background, and a witch (or bitch) Susan that was in control. When the witch said something vicious or demeaning the good Susan felt awful, but the bitch dominated. Susan knew what she was doing as

she antagonized her friends, made cutting nasty comments to her husband and was well on the way to destroying her marriage, but she just couldn't help herself.

The solution to Susan's personality problem came to a about in a very unusual way. As said before, the Friday night movie sessions had continued despite her psychological problems and had become more important to her than ever. For a few hours she could put aside her dismal view of the future and enjoy Jean's friendship and companionship. Their relationship had never developed into an actual sexual one although both, if pressed, would have had to admit that the movie had come to take second place to the warm closeness and almost sexual intimacy of lying side-by-side on the bed as they watched and talked. Both of them also would have to admit to a slight tingle in their cunts as Jean moved around "innocently'' displaying her charms while Susan, with equal "innocence," looked at them.

This level of intimacy might have continued indefinitely, but one Friday in early April, Susan arrived at Jean's door earlier than usual, called out and went in as she always did. As she climbed the stairs she heard the shower running but went on up to wait in the bedroom as she had done before. As she entered the bedroom she noticed immediately that the bed clothes were in disarray, which was very unusual since Jean always had everything neatly in place and ready for company. However, Susan didn't think too much of it, but, rather than lying on the bed as she might normally have done, she sat in a chair facing the open bathroom door and waited for Jean to finish. The water was turned off and so as not to startle her, Susan warned Jean of her presence by saying, "I'm here." Obviously, Jean did not hear, probably because she was vigorously drying her hair as she stepped out of the shower, and as her back was turned, she didn't see Susan sitting in the chair. Before Susan could speak again, all thoughts of doing so fled from her mind. As Jean lowered the towel from her head she turned and placed her foot on the tub and bent from the hips to dry her legs and feet. That presented a fetching view of not only her bottom but also the crevice between the cheeks and, what normally would have been the focus of Susan's eyes, her cunt. Instead what riveted her attention were the cheeks, themselves: instead of a healthy pink color, they were bright red with even some purple showing. Without thinking, she let out a loud gasp which startled Jean into turning around suddenly while clasping the towel in front of herself. When she realized immediately that it was only Susan, she dropped the towel and said, "Wow, you really gave me a start. I didn't know you were here at all." Then, seeing Susan's stunned expression, she asked, "What's wrong, Honey?"

"Your bottom! What happened to it?"

Jean's face turned red with embarrassment. "Oh my heavens, I didn't mean for you to see that! I thought I would be out of the shower and have my robe on before you got here!"

"But what happened?"

"Nothing happened. It just that Don spanked me."

"My God! What are you going to do?"

"Do? What do you mean? I'm not going to do anything."

"Surely you're not going to stay here. Do you want to come over with us?"

"Wait a minute for heaven's sake! He didn't beat me, he just spanked me – and to tell the truth, I deserved it."

"I don't believe this! Are you telling me that Don spanked you and you approve of it? I can't believe that any woman would say that, much less a person as strong and independent as you. How could a dignified grownup woman permit such a thing?" Susan was almost sputtering with rage at the thought of her friend being so mistreated.

"I understand what you are saying and I agree that it wouldn't work for most married couples, but it works for Don and me. I'll admit that years ago, before we were married, I would have hated the thought of being turned over a man's knee and having my ass spanked, but for us it clears the air, cleans my conscience and as a side effect leads to tremendous sex. Understand I'm not a masochist and Don is not a sadist. I hate to be spanked and Don doesn't enjoy doing it, but things that might have led to major fights between us have been settled this way. Things that might have been hidden away and eaten at our trust in one another have been brought out into the open and wiped away. He doesn't spank me often, but it's better than me hiding something and having a guilty conscience or him stewing over something I've done and building up resentment."

Susan sat with a stunned expression on her face, hearing words that made no sense to her and that ran against her heartfelt beliefs of marital equality. "Even if what you say is true for you, it's still one sided. I'll bet you don't spank him when he's done something wrong."

Jean laughed. "That certainly presents a fascinating picture. No, you're right, I don't. I have other ways of punishing him, but the truth is that in any marriage there is likely to be one partner that is, in most ways, the dominant one. That certainly can be a catastrophe if the dominant one (of whichever sex) is a bully or is inconsiderate. In our case, Don hardly is a bully, does almost everything I want and most of our disagreements are settled through discussions, arguments or yelling like everyone else's. When he does resort to spanking me, it's almost through mutual consent. That is, I know I've done really wrong or very dumb and it really bothers me. I know that Don is upset or angry, or that he would be if he knew what I had done. In cases like that I almost welcome a spanking to clear the books rather than dragging the process of reconciliation over several days or even weeks. I suppose it's hard to understand, but, as I said, it works for us."

"You're right; I just can't absorb what you are saying. All I can see, literally, I guess, is your red bottom and all I can picture is someone really cruelly beating it. How on earth did you start such a thing? It certainly couldn't have been through any 'mutual consent' and I doubt that you asked to be spanked to clear your conscience."

"No don't be sarcastic. Of course there wasn't any agreement and I certainly didn't volunteer the first time. Since you ask, and I really want you to understand, I'll tell you how it happened. Don and I had been married for a few months when we attended a New Year's Eve party. I was wearing a red short, strapless cocktail dress that I had gotten just for the party and it fit perfectly, tight at the top and flaring over the hips. Under it I wore a short hoop petticoat that made it stand out like a bell. The top had a build-in bra so I didn't have to wear a separate one, and, because Don liked the idea, I didn't even wear panties. I felt absolutely wonderful in it, and the lack of underwear made me feel really sexy. However, it worried me at the same time for when I got out of the car the hoop skirt flipped up to my waist! Fortunately, no one was around but it certainly made me be careful when I sat down during the evening.

"It was a really nice party and I felt like the belle of the ball in my new dress. I had a few drinks, but at most I was a little high, just enough to feel pleasantly tingly, but the excitement or something – maybe the drinks – made me just a little woozy. Don took me over to a couch in a secluded corner of the next room, so that I could close my eyes a rest for a few moments, and he went back to the party. I was leaning back in a semi-stupor when I felt two hands reach over my shoulder and slowly slide into the top of my dress. I assumed, of course, that it was Don and enjoyed the way he was fondling my tits. A strapless dress is not made for that kind of activity, obviously, and both cups came down leaving my breasts out bare. I knew that Don would not expose them if anyone else could see, so I wasn't really concerned and, in fact, it gave me a real charge to have them out like that. Then, the person feeling me carne around the couch, sat beside me and started to kiss me as he ran his hand up my leg under my skirt. I knew immediately that it wasn't Don and started to pull away, but he held me tight, kissing me as his hand found my bare pussy. I struggled a little bit, but for some reason – I still don't know quite why, but I must have been higher than I thought – I gave way and just let him do what he wanted. He felt my cunt and even finger-fucked me and suddenly I began to hump against his hand and actually had an orgasm. As soon as it was over reality set in and I opened my eyes to see my hoop skirt up to my waist with my cunt on display and both boobs still out of my dress. In a state of absolute panic, I pushed my skirt down, jerked my bra-top over my boobs and got up and almost ran from the room. I looked around fearfully for all I could think of was the gossip that would spread about the recent bride, Jean Brewer, being finger-fucked to orgasm at a New Year's Eve party! I almost fainted with relief when I was sure that no one was looking in my direction and my unbelievable indiscretion seemed to have gone unnoticed. I went into the bathroom to calm down and fix myself up and came out acting as if nothing unusual had happened. I'll tell you, if I was high before, that scare brought me down in a hurry! Talk about your life passing before your eyes!"

Through all this, Susan was sitting stupefied, enraptured with the, for her, unbelievable story she was hearing. As Jean paused, she managed to gasp out, "You must have been petrified!"

"Believe me, I was. I felt that a thousand eyes were looking at me and that what I had done was printed on my forehead. Finally, however, I calmed down and mingled with the crowd for awhile, but, fortunately, the party began to break up shortly after that and Don and I left. I don't think I have over been so glad to get out of a house as I was then. As we drove home we talked about what a lovely party it had been and how complimentary everyone had been about me and my dress. Don said that he had overheard several people commenting on how beautiful and sexy I looked and then he asked me if I had enjoyed being with all those people with no panties on, even if no one knew. I admitted that it had turned me on and that I had been pleasantly aware of being naked under my dress all evening. He grinned at me and said that I probably would have gotten real hot if my skirt had flipped up as it had when I was getting out of the car, and then he asked if I thought that anyone had seen up my skirt. I had been very careful when I sat down all evening, so, without thinking, I said no. We dropped it at that and drove the rest of the way without talking. My mind was busy though, for I suddenly realized that I had to decide what, if anything, to tell Don. Now that I was safely away from the scene of the crime, I began to be aroused by what I had done – or what had been done to me with, I had to admit, my tacit approval. As the same time, I really began to feel guilty, sitting next to my husband while thinking about a total stranger fondling my tits and fingering my pussy.

"Anyhow, we got home, went up to the bedroom and started to undress. Don was sitting on the edge of the bed and grabbed me as I went by. He ran his hand up my leg to my cunt, fondled it for a minute or so, and then put a finger up me and he started to finger-fuck me. You can't believe the funny feeling that gave me. He let go of me and told me to take my dress off and come back. I did a slow striptease, which didn't take long, of course, and posed naked in front him wearing only my hose and garter belt. He pulled me down on his lap, squeezed my boob gently, put his finger back into my cunt and said, "I'll bet no one has done that in a long time." My thoughts were in absolute turmoil, torn between confessing that I had been sexually intimate with someone at the party no more than an hour ago, or taking the easy way out and keeping quiet with a guilty conscience. Unfortunately, I just couldn't bring myself to tell him, so I lied and said "Only you."

"Before I had time to blink, I was over Don's knee and his hand began to smack my ass so hard that I thought that I would break in two. As the slaps rained down he said that he couldn't stand for me to lie to him. It turned out that he had come back to see if I was all right just when I was about to go off. There I was, bare-boobed, my skirt up high enough that he could see the guy's hand working between my wide-spread legs, and with my hips bucking up and down in orgasm. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, but rather than causing a scene or embarrassing me by being there when I opened my eyes, he went back into the other room, where everyone was, to wait for me to reappear. When, after a few minutes I came hurrying in, heading for the bathroom to settle down, he said that one boob was half out of my dress and that I had a look of sheer panic on my face.

"I learned all this later, of course. All I heard while over his knee was the continual slap of his hand and a continuing chant of 'You must not lie to me.' That's all I heard, but I felt plenty! I was crying, both from the pain of the spanking and the horrible feeling of having done something that my husband found inexcusable. I kept saying that I was sorry and that I would never do it again, and, finally, he stopped.

"It's hard to tell you how I felt, lying there over his knee, completely at his mercy. I guess the best thing to say is that for the first time in my adult life, I felt like a dependent, clinging vine. I raised up onto his lap, put my arms around him and kept saying that I was sorry. Now that his rage had dissipated he was remorseful for hurting me so bad but said that he just couldn't stand me doing something behind his back and lying about it. He said that he didn't mind at all what I had done and, in fact, if the guy had taken me to a bedroom and really fucked me he wouldn't have been upset if I had told him about it right away. He said that he had given me several lead-ins that could let me get started to confess, but that I had ignored them. Obviously he was right and I had felt guilty when I was lying, oven by omission. The funny thing is that after the spanking I felt relieved, cleansed of my sin – like a Catholic after 'confession' I suppose. I also felt very, very hot, and there was nothing I wanted more that to be fucked by my strong dominant husband who had created that heat, both in my ass and my cunt. And, while he really was sorry about hurting me, I think he was aroused, in a caveman sort of way, by his mastering of his woman. In any case, a very traumatic evening ended with a long, passionate bout of love-making and, I guess, the establishment of a relationship between us that has lasted for 18 years." As she finished her story, Jean was suddenly embarrassed for having talked so long and so intimately, and she shyly looked to Susan to gage her reaction.

Susan was still in a state of shock. She was not so naive as to believe women didn't do such things and, of course, she knew that many women even commit adultery – but not women she knew! Now here was a woman she had grown to love as a very dear friend confessing to a lewd, even obscene, interlude with a complete stranger and being sorry only because she hadn't told her husband about it. All this on top of admitting to accepting the right of that husband to brutally beat her bottom for that and other indiscretions. Susan was just too shocked to focus on Jean's explanations and to accept her view that what might be wrong for other couples was right for Jean and Don. In a different time and in a different mental state, Susan might at least have temporized, vacillated or, in some way, kept from showing her shock and deep disapproval. Now, however, the witch Susan took over md she began excoriating Jean for doing things "no decent woman would do," for permitting her husband to "act like a beast," for behaving like "a wimp" rather than standing up for herself, etc. Susan's mind was still in turmoil, and she, again, found herself saying hurtful things she didn't mean, and hating herself as she did so. The words gushed out, cruel and painful to both of them and poisoning the relationship between them. For Jean, each word hit like slap and the shy, hopeful look on her face changed first into shock and dismay, and then into rage.