Up in Michigan

I understand why people read the Loving Wives genre (betrayal and revenge are an emotional turn-on). But a lot of its stories border on the misogynistic (look it up cowboy). So, I thought I'd take a stab at writing a genuine, non-cynical "loving wife" tale - just as a change of pace.

The Hemingway short story with the same title may have been the first (on this topic) by a well-known author. It was so controversial that he waited 17 years before widely publishing it. Now – take a gander around this site and tell me how times have changed... Enjoy and please keep the comments coming - DT

*****

Okay – I admit it. I have fantasies.

In all of them I am tall and athletic, devilishly handsome, a successful entrepreneur and rich as Croesus. And of course I would have a smooth and easy way with the ladies.

In reality I am none of that. I am average height, average weight, I have never been good at any sport and I was always the wingman for my socially adept friends.

So, I got nothing but the leftovers after the alpha dogs had eaten. The term "leftover" more-or-less describes my first failed attempt at shedding the curse of virginity.

I was at a sorority mixer when I saw this brown haired mutt. She was standing on the other side of the room looking as ill at ease as I felt.

Neither of us were coupled up. So I gravitated toward her – misery loves company.

She was ordinary height, brown shoulder length hair, brown eyes, olive complexion. There was nothing distinguishing about her face or figure. She was just "brown."

I said, "HI "and leaned against the wall facing her.

She said, "Hi." And for an uncomfortable period we just stood there staring at the people dancing.

My brain was yelling, "Say something you idiot!!

But I couldn't think of anything to say."

In the meantime she was looking creeped-out.

Inspiration hit and I said, "My name's Peter, like the Saint, not the bunny rabbit."

My lame attempt at witty.

The fact that she didn't run screaming from the scene indicated how desperate she was.

She looked at me and said, "Suzie." She DID have pretty dark-brown eyes.

We stood there for another uncomfortable length of time. I finally said, "Would you like to dance."

I'm spastic on the dance floor- but it was all I had at that point.

She said, "I'm sorry but I don't dance."

A woman who didn't dance? Unheard of!! What was she REALLY doing here?

We stood for another painful period.

She said, "Would you like to get some fresh air? I can't hear myself think."

Wow!! That was a breakthrough. I said, "Sure" – okay, not suave - and we walked out onto the porch.

It was summer and hot outside but it was tropical inside the party. So the night air felt cool and refreshing.

She had on the classic Bermuda shorts and spaghetti strap top that was popular with girls back then. I was wearing an old pair of cut off blue jeans and a ratty t-shirt. My standard uniform.

I was desperately trying to think of something to say. So I tried the usual conversational gambit for us students, "So what are you studying?"

She said, "Nothing. I'm a townie. Bill Wirt brought me. But he took off with his buddies and left me by myself."

Wirt was one of the overentitled douchebags who made us peasants miserable.

I thought to myself, "Wirt brought her???!! She must have some hidden talent?"

I blurted, "Well I would never leave you at a party. You are way too pretty."

I didn't exactly mean that but she was starting to grow on me.

What I got were puppy-dog eyes. She said, "Do you really mean that."

I lied, "Of course I do. I wouldn't leave a hot chick like you lying around."

She said rather defensively, "How do you know I'm hot? Who have you been talking to?!!" Okay –that was a little unexpected.

I dithered a bit and said, "Nobody – you're just hot looking – that's all." I was starting to synch with her.

She must have felt the same vibe because she melted a bit and said, "I work at the Loft. You should drop in some time."

I felt like I might be edging up on my first real score. She was not a movie star. But neither was I.

She radiated the total lack of sophistication that was my stock in trade. But she also gave off a subtle hint of sexuality.

It was the classic Catch-22. I hadn't actually had grown-up sex yet. But I was very eager to try.

I just needed to hook-up with a girl who was experienced enough to know how to do it. But not so experienced that a twenty year old virgin wouldn't interest her.

This girl looked like she met both criteria.

I was mulling that over when she began to lean toward me with those bedroom eyes and we kissed.

It was electric. She moaned, her mouth opened and we swapped tongues for several seconds. This was getting hot.

We broke for a second just staring at each other. Both of us panting like bloodhounds on a Georgia porch.

I was absolutely certain that I was about to score.

That was when Bill Wirt reappeared.

He said with scorn in his voice, "Suzie – what the hell are you doing out here?" and pulled her to him by the waist.

He didn't even notice her breathlessness. Which was probably fortunate for both of us since he was a starting linebacker on the football team. He was huge!!

He added looking angrily down at her, "I spend a little time with my friends and you just wander off. If you want to be with ME you had better watch your behavior bitch."

Now - the person I wished I was would have wrestled the guy to his knees and forced him to apologize for being such an asshole.

Instead I just stood there looking blank. I am not aggressive and I have no instincts that way.

I thought that Suzie looked humiliated. But she immediately turned and said to Wirt, "What was I supposed to do when you left me standing there for an hour?"

He said, "I had some business to attend to. And I expect you to wait for me while I'm doing it."

I had a pretty good idea what that business actually WAS. Because a bit earlier I had seen him go past me toward the parking lot with a thoroughly wasted Becky Almendinger.

Maybe he planned to rush her to the hospital to have her checked for alcohol poisoning. Or maybe he spent an hour fucking her in somebody's back seat. Who knew?

At any rate Suzie turned to Frodo Douchbaggins and said, "I was just talking to Peter while you were gone. It was no big deal."

It was heartening to discover that I was, "No big deal."

He looked at me and sneered, "Stay away from my woman - or you and I will have something to talk about."

He was a half foot taller.

I didn't think it was world politics.

So I just stared.

Then he turned and jammed his hand down the back of Suzie's shorts, and more-or-less hoisted her back into the party by her left butt-cheek. She went along uncomplainingly.

My alter-ego would have had the asshat in a hammerlock pleading for mercy at that point. But I actually just stood there looking disapproving.

A disapproving stare was the best I could come up with at the point.

As I watched them disappear I was suddenly pretty sure what her hidden talent was.

That suspicion was confirmed while I was upstairs taking a piss. Suzi's discarded top was lying on the hall floor and there were moans, shrieks, grunts, and wild cries of passion emanating from the nearest bedroom.

The object lesson was well-made and needless to say I didn't see Suzie again.

Meanwhile, I had finally taken care of my little virginity problem.

It was almost the same situation. I was at one of those outdoor bashes in a local park. It was an event that the Greeks sometimes threw in the late summer. I was dateless as usual.

The party itself was being conducted from the back of a keg loaded F150. Which was parked in a lot next to a field.

The whole area was surrounded by a very thick woods.

I was wandering-around drunkenly amongst the trees out there. That was mainly because I was fed up watching the men and women of Phi Alpha and Lambda Tau getting hammered.

Getting totally shitfaced was such a weekly ritual with our student body that it made me wonder how the university had gotten its sterling academic reputation.

So, I thought that it might be interesting to see what was back in the woods. Boredom loneliness and the foamy substance that they were handing out off the back of the pickup contributed to my curiosity.

At any rate, I was stumbling aimlessly around among the trees when I encountered a female form. It looked like a sorority chick had crawled off into the underbrush to die.

She was sprawled on her back on a soft bed of pine needles and leafy debris lying underneath one of the trees.

The vision was eerily reminiscent of the dead soldier scene from the Red Badge of Courage.

She was wearing a classic sun dress. And in her passing out she had managed to ruck the hem of the dress so far up that it was like she had nothing on from the waist down except a thong.

I walked over and peered down to see if she was really dead.

It was curiosity more than anything else. You don't see a sight like that every day. I had no intention of doing anything more depraved than scoping out her bare legs and panty clad mound.

And - yes - I know I'm a pervert. I'm a guy.

At that point the body moaned drunkenly. And I squatted down to check her condition – not exactly Galahad but at least I was concerned.

As I did she opened her eyes, gazed blearily at me and muttered, "Who're you???"

I was about to answer her when she said in a decisive voice, "Oh well!! You'll do!!" And she grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me down on top of her.

I was flabbergasted. Like I said, I am not a man of action.

She put her feet behind my knees and started violently humping her very hot pussy against my rapidly growing package which was only clad in a bathing suit.

She obviously could feel it because she let out a loud groan of sheer lust and in one motion yanked old Lucifer out of the side of my speedos, pulled her thong aside and in probably five seconds I was buried to the hilt in a very hot and slippery slice of heaven.

The feeling of sliding up into her was exquisite to say the least.

That was the reason why I almost instantly came. She, in the meantime, had thrown both arms around my shoulders and her legs around my waist pinning me to her.

That all happened as I was still frenziedly cumming inside her. She bucked violently for another couple of seconds. Both of us uttering loud groans.

Then she moaned and started to quiver and shake underneath me while her legs drummed frantically on the ground.

By the time I had reassured myself that this was a normal - if slightly over-the-top - reaction for a female, she was back to her out cold state.

I honestly tried to wake her up but she was totally passed out now, with her legs spread wide. I didn't need to ask what the white sticky stuff oozing out of her was.

I didn't know who she was and I was frankly a little dazed from my first sexual experience and of course I was pretty-much wasted.

My noble alter-ego would have stayed and gotten her some help. But she actually looked peaceful lying there. So instead I stood up, closing her legs, and pulled her dress down. I'm a gentleman after all. Then I stumbled back to the party for a refill.

I never saw her again. I can't even remember what she looked like. And for all I know there is a little Peter Ostrovski running around out there somewhere.

But that first pathetic instance of questionable sexual ethics – and I am not sure who was exactly at fault – opened the floodgates.

I must have banged half the ugly girls on campus before I graduated.

I was not interested in building up my social-cred. I was just interested in duplicating the experience. And frankly all cats are grey in the dark.

So, homely pussy and gorgeous pussy felt exactly the same to me - except the homely ones might have been a little less "well used".

In fact I have always thought that the less popular girls gave a much more inspired and grateful performance. And you can really perfect your technique with some practice. At least I got no complaints.

I graduated without distinction from the Ross School of Business in Ann Arbor. And I took my MBA down the road and put it to work at Ford.

I then proceeded to spend five long years in the godforsaken wasteland of cubicle-world.

It was a prairie dog town of perhaps 500 souls, all running in our own little six by eight foot wheels. All of us were packed into one massive room. But at least I had worked my way up to an "office" that was eight by ten. It was a sign of favor and advancement in our anonymous universe.

I also drove a cobalt blue Mustang GT. The "A" Plan was one of the perks of working at Ford. That car made me feel a little less faceless and more like hot shit.

Hence, one fine Friday I was sitting around after work with some of my fellow galley slaves. We were on the outdoor patio at Andiamos.

I lived in a condo down Garrison Street from Andiamos. It was an easy jaunt back to my place. So, I could drink as much as I wanted on a Friday night without worrying about a long drive home.

There were some new people in the group. That always happens because Ford is a big place and people come and go.

As I was seating myself I glanced across the table at a girl I hadn't seen before.

She had a thick mane of red hair. And she had the milky complexion and upturned nose of the definitive Irish Colleen, freckles and all.

Her laughing emerald cat's eyes were regarding me with both humor and intelligence.

She was not big or little, somewhere in the five foot six inch range. And beside the fact that she looked so distinctively Irish, there was nothing else exceptional about her. Nevertheless, I was riveted by those bright green eyes.

My buddy Mary, who worked with me on our unit's tiger-team, was sitting next to her. She said, "Peter, meet Janet McCarthy. She is over in customer management and she and I have been working together on the new interface."

Mary then turned and went back to chatting with the guy who was sitting next to her - duty done.

I didn't get the impression that this was pure chance. So I said something debonair, like "Hi" and lapsed back into my usual shy silence, just looking at her.

Several seconds passed and finally she said sarcastically, "Like what you see?"

I said, "I'm sorry. You are so beautiful that you make me tongue tied."

That statement evoked a smile that was pure Connemara on a bright and sunny spring day. She said flirtatiously, "So I'll take that as a yes."

I said with conviction in my voice, "That is most definitely a yes."

The room was a buzz of conversation so I said, "I want to talk but I can't hear with all of this noise. Have you eaten? I know a place that makes the world's best hamburgers if you want me to show you."

That got another delightful smile. She really had a wide sensual mouth. And she said, "I would love to get something to eat with you.

"I hate situations like this. I only came because Mary told me that she had a hot guy that she wanted me to meet.

"Since I don't see him here, I guess I'll leave with you."

Ouch!!

The sardonic tilt to her mouth told me that she was kidding. I hoped.

I took her to Millers Bar, which was near my place and, indeed, serves the world's best hamburgers. We talked for hours and drank several pitchers.

To say the least we were compatible. And I knew right then-and-there in my heart that I was going to marry her.

I have no idea why I was so sure. But I was certain about that. It was something in the way we connected. It just felt right.

Neither of us was in any shape to drive so we left the Mustang parked in Miller's parking lot and lurched the four blocks back to my place.

I would like to say we shared a night of passion but we both more-or-less passed out. I woke up in the dawn's early light in a puddle of drool. And I was crosswise on the couch.

She had managed to stagger into my bedroom and was lying face first on the bed fully clothed.

I covered her with a duvet while scoping out her body. She was slim with fragile looking shoulders tiny waist, narrow hips, beautiful ass and long absolutely gorgeous slim muscular legs.

The legs were revealed up to her panties. That was because her short work skirt had migrated up to the swell of her big round butt cheeks.

Her thick copper hair ended right between her shoulder blades. And even after a night of wretched excess it looked as lovely as it was the minute I laid eyes on her.

I figured that kind of perfect hair must be something that God gave the Irish to make up for the fact that they can't take their pale hide out into the sun.

I was frying some bacon when she made her appearance. She was wearing one of my shirts and apparently nothing else. One copper strand was draped over her eye and she definitely looked the worse for wear.

She said two words, "Coffee – STAT!!"

I handed her a big steaming mug and she slumped in a kitchen chair. She said, "You look as bad as I feel."

I said, "I think we were run over by a beer truck last night. Thank God it's Saturday."

I added, "After tying one on like that it's a good idea to get some nourishing grease in your stomach. If you drink the orange juice and eat this you will feel better." And I placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her.

She fell on it with the gusto of a starving grizzly bear.

When she finished, she peered suspiciously out past her hair and said, "Did we fuck last night? It doesn't feel like it. But I don't remember much after we left Millers."

I said, "I don't think so. You were on the bed and I was on the couch and I would think I would remember something as memorable as my first time making love to you."

She looked amused and said, "What makes you think that there will BE a first time."

I said, "Because I am going to get that little impediment out of the way right now."

And I walked over took her hand and gently brought her to her feet. She looked at me, tilted her head impishly, threw the shirt over her head, stepped back and posed.

What was revealed was a slim little body with surprisingly broad b-cup breasts and cute little pink nipples. Her waist was tiny and her hips were fruitful.

She had one thigh crossed over the front of the other the way that women do. So her pussy was neatly covered. But from what I COULD see there was no hair down there.

She said, using the mocking tone of voice that she had the night before, "You like?"

At that, I swept her up in my arms - lust in my eyes. I toted her into the bedroom and tossed her on her back on the bed.

She was laughing merrily as she said, "Apparently you like!!"

I was out of my robe and undies and positioned next to her in a couple of seconds. She was starting to pant as I kissed her. We dueled tongues for a second as I reached down to roll a suddenly very significant nipple between two fingers of my left hand. It looked like a little red rosebud now.

When I did that she moaned and arched her back, urgently forcing the breast against my hand. She hissed, "You have to fuck me NOW!! I can't wait any longer."

I moved between her widely spread legs. She was humping the air in her eagerness as I lined old Lucifer up and slid him into her.

It was the hottest and wettest joining I have ever experienced. She shrieked with sheer sensation. And wrapped her arms around my neck to drag my lips down to one nipple.

They were huge when she was aroused. And obviously very sensitive.

I took it in my mouth. It was red hot. She shrieked again and her heels started beating on the back of my legs as she began to quiver like a tuning fork.