The Experiment

We've been married twelve years. He still makes me happy and he makes me feel special that he is my husband. I believe he adores me and loves being with me. Our sex life is just fine, thank you for asking!

When this began, our finances weren't a struggle but we had to be careful. We both had good jobs and looked forward to our annual bonuses- his in springtime and mine at the end of the year. For several months after each bonus our lives would ease financially and we could be free with our spending. We'd fallen into the habit of discussing our finances openly and we certainly didn't make large commitments without coming to a consensus.

This year I needed a car and it was a long time until my bonus. He'd just gotten his and as far as I knew, he'd not made any decisions about spending it. So, I took a day off, did the spa thing, got my hair and nails done, found a pretty dress and some new heels that I knew he'd like, and met him at the door when he got home.

"Wow," he said.

I pirouetted for him, smiling that smile and showing him all the fun things he was privy to and enjoyed his reaction. He's so open, nothing subtle about him. I could see his mind churning, planning his next move.

"Dinner tonight?" he asked, meaning he'd take me out.

"No," I said, "I've already called 'The Caterer'. They'll deliver at seven, we'll eat in tonight. After the steak, I'm yours."

"I'm getting worried, now" he said. "What's up? This is too much. Come on, spill the beans. Did you have a wreck or something?"

I gave him my 'hurt' look, like I was almost ready to cry. "What do you mean, I can't look pretty for you, offer some touch, just for fun?" I stroked the front of his trousers which had started to look full.

He grabbed my wrists, firmly but playfully. "Now I know something is up. Tell me what you want."

He must have had a difficult day as he wasn't reacting exactly like I planned. I put the 'cute little one who just got caught' look on and apologized.

"I'm sorry. You're too good for me. I know I can't fool you. I do want to have dinner and then fool around, though. I was going to ask you later but I'll just go ahead. I know you'll be fair."

He laughed. "You need a new car, don't you?"

I nodded, hopeful.

His face became serious. "But, you don't have any money, do you?"

I nodded again, my helpless damsel in distress eyes gazing up at him, moist and vulnerable.

"So, you want to spend my bonus money on a new car, don't you?"

"Well," I started, my wrists still in his hands. They're so strong and ...

"Stop," he said, releasing me, "Just stop. The answer is 'Yes'. I'll buy you a new car. You can pay me back when your bonus comes in, okay?"

Now I was suspicious. This was too easy. I kissed him, though, right on the lips.

"Thank..."

He stopped me, put a finger on my lips, his eyes bright with promise. He was up to something.

"No, there's a condition. If you want a car, you have to give me something valuable until you pay me back."

I looked at him, "What?" I smiled and stepped back, did another turn for him, those dancing lessons when I was a kid paying off. "What could you want when you already have this?" I said, indicating all of me.

"Your pussy." My head snapped up and my eyes locked on his. He was dead serious.

"My pussy? What do you mean? I mean, we already, you know, whenever..."

He shook his head. "No, you let me, you know, use it, for our mutual pleasure, when you want to, but it's not really mine. It's always been yours. It will be nine months until you can pay me back. Until then, your pussy is mine to do with how I want, when I want, as many times as I want, with your loving, imaginative, enthusiastic support and cooperation."

I was suddenly really, really angry. The bastard. What... I was about to react when I saw his face. Something stopped me He was decided, must have thought about this a lot. He was worried how I felt, though.

"Before you respond, know one thing. I love you. You know we can just wait on a new car. Bobidy-Fritz, you can just use mine and I'll nurse yours along till Christmas. (He knows I HATE his car.) So, I'm making this proposal in the spirit that this is a luxury, not a need, okay?"

Had to think about that. I didn't want any part of it, but he was right and he knew that I'd agree.

"So, I look at this as a positive response to your dilemma. It means I value you. I know you know I love you and respect you and cherish you, don't you?"

I grimaced. "Yes, I know. This is a funny way to show it."

"So, you lose a little control. I learn what it's like to have a pussy. Maybe you can teach me something."

Bastard. I was starting to think. He could see the wheels turning behind my eyes. I set a little trap for him.

"So, could I satisfy you with my mouth, instead, sometimes? Instead of my bottom?"

"No. Absolutely not. Your mouth, sexually, will be your own. If you please me that way, it'll be because you want to. I only want control of your vagina. Mine to kiss, to touch, to lick, to suck, to rub, to insert my fingers or my cock, whenever I like. You will make it available as I desire and do your best to enjoy it and make it enjoyable to me."

"What about when it's my period? Will it be yours then, too?"

"Your time of the month will be my time of the month. Neither of us like making love then and when you're uncomfortable or hurting, it will be my job to make you feel better, to comfort you, bring you things, be a bit more solicitous. I know you think I ignore you then. Well, I won't. I'll do whatever you like to help you feel better."

That was weird. Hmmm. Time for a zinger.

"Do you intend to share your property? Am I to entertain your friends? Your boss? Business contacts?"

He looked at me and smiled again, primly. "No. You are my wife and you are leasing me a part of you that you have reserved for your husband since we married. I love you and thank you for being faithful and loving to me and will treat this part of you, and all the rest of you with the respect and devotion that our marriage deserves."

I am suddenly tear-y, all sad inside. "Have I been too selective in agreeing to having sex with you? I know I say 'No' sometimes but I didn't think I'd been unreasonable, have I? You know I've done it with you when I really didn't want to."

He took me in his arms, held me tenderly, kissed my neck, my cheek, finally my lips, a sweet loving kiss. "That was the only danger in my proposal, that you would think I felt sex-starved or that I was frustrated somehow. No, no, I'm very happy with our lives and that part of our marriage. Sure, it hurts to be turned down at times, but I've never wondered about you loving me or wanting me. I wouldn't be proposing this if I didn't think it was something we could do, together, to our mutual benefit." He rubbed my back. He knows I really, really like him rubbing my back.

I cuddled next to him, finally pulled away. "When will this start?"

"I'll drive you to the dealer. The car salesman is ready for you now. He's got a few models to show you. The finances are already set - Pick one, then just tell him which one you want and drive off. Come straight home and we'll begin to enjoy our new arrangement."

"That really makes me mad. You knew what I wanted and had this all set up."

"You're free to be angry with me, I guess. I'm close enough to you to predict your dilemma. I sympathize so I made some arrangements hoping you'd agree. It is your choice and if it causes problems we can't figure out we can cancel anytime. The deal is a month-to-month, return the car and we're back to normal. They even store your old car until I tell them otherwise, so it's available."

With these words, we faced each other. We were both troubled.

This was new, unknown, possibly? threatening to our relationship.

He kissed me, deeply, passionately. "I love you." He held me tightly, stroked my hair. "We can do this."

"I love you, too. Is there anything else?"

He laughed, "Well, as a symbol of our agreement, you'll see your friend at the salon regularly. Keep it smooth for me, waxed and pretty." He knows I love it bare and only keep it natural for him.

"You'll pay?" Esme doesn't charge me for waxing, we're friends. I can't wait to share this with her.

"Okay, I'll handle your salon bill until you pay me back. Tell her to send it to me."

The caterer knocked and we both jumped, then laughed together. What did this mean? Should I be seeking a divorce instead of picking out a car? Was I being shallow? Was I a whore?

I'm curious enough that I'll see it through. I'm fascinated what he'll do with a pussy all his own.

Time to eat. I'm suddenly starving.

_____

My new car is cream, with tiny, tiny red pinstripes on each side. Leather, rich and luxurious, soft enough to die for, and the smell, the smell. The motor is powerful and rich-sounding, not too loud.

I call it 'Franchette.' That was the name of a woman in a book I read. She made difficult choices, I remember.

He fucked me silly that first weekend. I enjoyed it, the intensity, the repetition. He tried so hard to make it nice for me at first. I played the coquette for him, wearing heels all the time, wiggling his property at him, making him want me over and over. I'd excite him, tell him what to do - 'kiss my breasts, yes, that's it, more, more, now the other one,' try to keep him busy away from his property, make him rub my back, moisturize my legs. I felt like a courtesan, valued and rich, trying to make him stretch to keep up with me.

Always it was his choice, he treating me like he did when we were newly wed, kissing me, nuzzling me, his hands all over me, pleasuring me with his fingertips, whispering sweet things in my ear. He taught me to push my bottom up in the air, to present myself for him on command. I taught him to abandon thought of my pleasure and just take me, fucking me furiously, like a mad Viking warrior with a virgin from the village he'd just conquered. I felt myself developing a taste for being owned.

It surprised us both how easily we moved into new modes of sexual expression. I didn't have to play his wife, he didn't have to play my husband. He was a man, I the woman. We even abandoned that pretense at times, engaged in rough play, wrestling, my forcing him down, taking him from above, riding him as long and as hard as I wanted. He folded inward, abandoned himself to my desires, knew the feel of his property convulsing around his hard cock, over and over and over while I cried with pleasure.

Once, I fell asleep, woke to the feeling of his lips on my, no, his pussy lips. I spread my legs, moaned, surrendered to this when my every ambition was just to go to sleep. Is this it, I wondered, is this the part I'll hate? Wanting anything but more sex but having to just let him have me? I hadn't been to the salon, yet, so he was loving the feel of his pussy hair around his lips and in his mouth. I savored him, the feeling of him loving me this way. I wasn't going to start running up the arousal arc any time soon so it was just sensation to me at first. I loved the tender nibbling and suckling on the outside, his enjoying the feminine structure, learning every fold of them, the feel of the swollen clitoral tissue beneath, his sensitive exploration outside contrasting with the firm pressure of his tongue inside me. He matched this with a finger, then two in my rear. That wasn't part of the deal but I just gave in to him.

This felt so sweet I wiggled around and took his cock in my mouth. We hadn't sixty-nined in so long! I felt him respond, growing inside my mouth, his attentions to me becoming more erratic. Despite myself, I felt an unwanted, unplanned sensation in my belly, deep, so deep inside, his tongue fiery, insistent, his fingers stretching me, tickling the rim of my anus. I was exhausted but took his cock deep in my mouth, pulled my head slowly away, sucking, feeling the quivers of pleasure from the shaft. I repeated, exaggerating the slow torturous movement, letting my legs fall apart even further to get that tongue to my g-spot when it happened.

I'd never experienced anything like it. I call it 'The Shattering.' It is full of stars, otherworldly. I woke, him holding me, stroking my forehead, calling my name, then kissing me gently, then my name, then another kiss. He was crying.

"I thought you were dead," he said.

"I must have passed out," I said, "Keep doing this."

"What?" he asked.

"The kisses, then my name. Keep doing that."

He did.

We learned to be careful.

_____

Over the summer, he was at best, refreshing, at worst, annoying. Still, I kept our agreement. He fucked me constantly. We started watching porn together to generate fantasies, new ways to do it. I didn't hate it like I'd thought. I felt we'd never been closer. He'd call me all the time, ask how I was, what I was doing. My co-workers saw me blushing, wondered if I had a lover.

"No, it's just him," I told them.

"Tell us your secret," they said.

"He bought me a car," was all I ever replied.

The phone thing turned sexual, of course. He'd have me touch myself, tell him what it smelled like.

"Lavender," i said, if I'd just washed before coming to work, or "You" if his scent was still on me.

He made me bring a small vibrator to work in my purse, pleasure his property in the loo. I paid the janitor to keep one stall out of order, clean so I could use it alone. I learned to create little orgasms for him, telling him about it over the phone. I kept some wipes in my purse to clean up with, some fresh panties to change into. I became a creature of the flesh, carrying him inside me all the time.

I'd get home and he'd have dinner ready, my favorite wine chilled. He'd seduce me over dinner, have me undress at the table while we ate. I learned which marinara recipe was my favorite for licking off his cock and balls. He'd take me over the table, my head next to the pasta, fragrant and rich-smelling, or he'd take me upstairs, make love to me tenderly and sweetly, then pat my bottom and go back down to clean up dinner.

"Sweet dreams," he'd whisper.

"Wake me up when you come back up," I'd say, "Your property wants another kiss before midnight."

_________

That Fall we went to a marriage counselor. "How is your sex life?" she asked.

"Great," we replied. That wasn't the problem.

We'd become so close we didn't talk. We didn't have to - we'd finish one another's sentences, know exactly what we were thinking. One look was all it took. The matter settled, we'd fuck, our mechanics the thing of legend, our mutual ability to raise one other to new heights of sensation frightening in its intensity.

The therapist was good, we came to love her. My husband demonstrated to her his ability to bring me to orgasm without touching me. Her mouth fell open. She confessed she had never had a couple like us, never even read about a problem like ours.

Still, we didn't tell her about our arrangement. We did talk about that and we agreed that it defied discussion. She'd never understand.

She dismissed us, apologized she couldn't help. As we got up to leave, though, she surprised us.

"You need to stop. This is not my professional opinion, its my opinion as a woman, as a fellow human being. You need to stop whatever it is you can't discuss with me."

"What will we do?" asked my husband, me nodding to him, our minds one. We looked at her.

"Start over. Now get the hell out of my office." She wasn't angry, just tired.

_____

In the car on the way home, silence reigned.

I broke it.

"Take the car back," I said.

He just nodded.

"I renounce our agreement," he said. It was unnecessary but we both knew he had to say it.

I cried.

He pulled over and we embraced. After, our eyes met and we 'told' each other we loved each other.

I kissed him gently then bit his lip. I think he suspected what I had in mind but I was happy that I thought he didn't know.

"Tomorrow, we'll go to work. When you come home, bring flowers. I'll make dinner. Maybe, but maybe not, if you ask me out, I'll agree. If not, you'll have to try again the next night. If and when we do go out, if I like you, I may let you kiss me. Maybe not. You might have to take me out a couple of times before you can hold my hand."

"Okay."

"It doesn't matter if you think it's okay. It just is the way it is. I love you."

"I love you too."

Silence returned and he resumed driving.

Finally, he said, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too. That sucked. I'm glad I'm married to you."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I'd have killed anybody else."

_____

We don't talk about it any more. We're normal. We work, we fight, we talk, we love, we make up. We have dinner with our friends. They're glad 'we're back', they say.

I have to go now, I'm in a hurry to get home.

I want to tell him in person.

I'm pregnant.

Shit.

The car won't start.

_____