Why I Love Wives

This is a contribution to the Survivor Revival Challenge, organized by Tara Cox. The idea is to write a short new story every day, to help us all get through the "shelter in place" period of the Coronavirus challenge to us all. My first eleven stories were called My Junior Year Abroad. This story is a departure, but I hope you like it, all the same.

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They do such amazing things!

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It was my first serious job. I was ambitious, and it was a step up on the ladder to success. My girlfriend refused to move across the country to be with me; she had her own job, and she didn't want to leave it. I felt that the relationship was not going anywhere.

I settled in, and the first thing I found was that quite a few of my colleagues were in unhappy relationships. There was, for example, this one guy Steve who was always complaining about his wife Ann. Now, lots of men complain about their wives, you know, they're bad cooks, or they're messy, or they're always finding fault with the husband, the usual stuff. Steve, however, complained to me about Ann's sexual talents, or lack thereof. He barely knew me; who does that? I filed it away as weird, and I tried never to be alone with Steve.

Steve's wife Ann has an MD. She got in the habit of stopping by my apartment on her way home from the hospital. She would stop by without Steve, and for no discernible reason, near as I could tell. Initially her excuse was that I had been knocked in the head dizzy in a company touch football game, and she wanted to check up on my recovery. I thought it was sweet, but quite frankly, I was fine.

Steve's wife, by the way, is an attractive lady. She gets her hair done nice, she wears these glasses that frame her face, and - at least to my way of thinking - make her look sexy. She dresses in correct work clothes, and she had a nice, but standard body. She has small breasts, an hourglass figure, and standard issue female legs. All in all, it is quite pleasant to gaze upon her.

One time she stopped by when I was washing my supper dishes. I usually wash them shirtless, and I guess I have a sexy body, if you're a woman. Ann was most definitely a woman. She was upset: She told me that Steve was taking her away for a three-week mosquito hunt.

"What?" I said, in my most elegant question mode. Not.

"We hunt mosquitoes. We use me as the bait," she said.

"I don't understand," I said, quite reasonably, I thought.

"Oh. He's taking me camping. I hate camping," she said.

"Then why are you going?" I asked, again quite reasonably, I thought.

"The marriage contract. Through thick and thin, and all that. He likes camping, and fucking me in the open air," Ann said. "Let me ask you, Sam: Do you like to fuck your women in the open air?"

I was taken off guard by the question, and Ann's casual use of the word fuck. She's otherwise always such a proper woman! I recovered quickly, however.

"Well, I'm kind of in between women right now; but if I had a woman, I'd fuck her here, I'd fuck her there, I'd fuck her anywhere. I like fucking women, I like fucking, Sam I am!" I said.

"Glad to hear that, Sam you am. How about I'll be the green eggs, and you be the ham?" Ann said, as she began to take off her clothes.

"Ann, what are you doing?" I asked. This was one surprise after another!

"Preparing for you to fuck me, Sam. I would've thought it was obvious, no? Are you into kink? Want to fuck me tied up and blindfolded, Sam-you am?" Ann said, as she undressed to the point where there was none of her clothing left to remove, right there, in the living room of my apartment.

"How about right here, in my living room?" I said, also beginning to strip.

"Your drapes are open," Ann observed.

"So they are; is that a problem?" I asked.

"Well, as you know, I'm married to your colleague, and he has seniority to you. It's adultery, of course, and maybe it's unwise to maximize the chance that someone would see us, don't you think?" Ann said. "But it you want the drapes open, then open they shall be."

I closed the drapes. I went to my bedroom and returned with a handful of silk ties. Ann's eyebrows raised, all by themselves I'm sure, and the naked woman developed an evil smile. I tied her hands together, then tied her legs to the furniture, and last, used a tie to make a noose around her neck.

The noose gave Ann pause, I could tell. She said nothing, though, and I noticed her pussy was already wet, and flowering, just a bit.

"Would you? Could you? In a car?" I asked.

"I would not, could not, in a car," Ann replied, playing along.

"You may like it. You will see. You may like it in a tree," I said. Ann shook her head.

"Could you, would you, with a goat?" I asked.

"I would not, could not with a goat," she replied, and she giggled. She looked so fetching lying there naked, with her legs bound and spread, her hands tied together over her tummy, and her neck in a noose. "But maybe you could, maybe you would, with a goat?"

"Prepare for Sam-I-Am, you sexy lamb," I said, as I moved into position.

"Am I a lamb being led to the ...oh! My goodness San-you-am, but you're big! Oh yes, ahhh..." Ann said, as I began to pump into the wet and welcoming pussy of that very willing wench.

One thing I love are women who moan, and in general, make noises while I fuck them. Ann didn't shut up even for a second. It was like a running commentary on our fuck, and since it was uniformly positive, I was thrilled.

"Can I cum inside you?" I asked, a bit late in the game to be asking such a question.

"Oh, God, yes. Yes, yes ... YES!" and Ann climaxed as I pumped inside her at around 90 pumps/second. I unloaded shortly thereafter.

"Clean me up, my little spring lamb," I said. Ann sat up as best as she could, still being bound and all. Being a kindly sort, I moved my cock close to her mouth and she licked at it, making sounds like "yummy," as she cleaned off my cock with her tongue and mouth.

Later, when we were dressed and were each drinking a glass of wine, Ann said she had to go back to Steve before he began to wonder what happened to her. "Steve's a lucky man, Ann. You can really fuck!" I said.

"Steve is a wham-bam-thank-you-Ma'am, once a week, Saturday night fuck. I've been in a constant state of sexual frustration. Thank God for what we just enjoyed, the two of us, Sam-you-am," Ann said.

"Where are you going camping?" I asked. "Maybe I could sneak in at some point?" I said.

"Oh no, you don't. Steve would spot you a mile away. Steve is really good at camping. However, I have some equally frustrated friends. I'll tell them about my friend from the Dr. Seuss stories. They too may drop by from time to time. Would that be okay with you?" Ann asked.

"I may need reinforcements, it sounds like," I teased.

"Well, if you want a friend or two to help you out, let me know, since I absolutely love threesomes with two men, or foursomes with three men," Ann said.

"You do?" I asked. I was taken aback.

"I'll be back in three weeks, mosquito bitten and horny as hell, I'm sure. Keep that big cock hard and ready, okay? I'll ask Sharon to help you out. You'll like her. She's Jake's wife. She has boobs you'll never forget, not like my small little apricots. She's got cantaloupes. Do you like cantaloupes, Sam-you-am?"

"Only with green eggs and ham," I said.

"I think Sharon may be more of a Cat in the Hat kind of girl," Ann said.

"Right. Good to know," I said.

"See you in a few weeks, Sam," she said.

"May all your dreams be covered in Deep Woods Deet," I said.

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," Ann said, as she left me standing there, while she waved daintily as she walked away down my front walk to her Toyota Camry, preparing to be a feast for the deep woods mosquitoes.

The very next day a woman who calls herself Sharon dropped in. She actually did have boobs the size of cantaloupes. I began to realize these wives would do whatever I wanted, as long as their husbands didn't find out. I drove her to Lookout Point, where the teenagers go to make out. She looked at me questioningly, but she got into the back of my van and spread her legs just the way I like it. What's a man to do?

Some men's taste in women runs to blondes. Other men like dumb women, and still others are drawn to submissives. There are even men who like feminists, and other men like women who have no attribute other than thinking the man in question is wonderful. I discovered, with the help of Ann and Sharon, that my taste runs to wives.

There's no pressure. Wives are already taken, so there's no issue of you proposing, or anything like that. You don't have to call the next day, remember their birthday or send them a Valentine's Day Card. You just have to be there to enjoy their bodies when they get horny, and they become wild animals in bed, or wherever you have sex with them.

The wives don't have to be proper or well-behaved; they've been there and done that, constantly, with their husbands. What they want from me is kink, wild and carefree raunchy sex. It's not for everyone; after all, you're being really nasty to their husbands, right?

An argument can be made, however, that you're helping the marriage. The wives get their yaya's out with your help, and then return to their husbands happy and satisfied. They become more loving towards their husbands, and even willing to become mosquito bait, just because it's what their husband wants. Sexual satisfaction leads to that kind of happy compliance in a wife. The marriage improves. Who'd a thought?

Of course, you may just think this is self-serving pablum. Maybe it is, but if you want to make that argument, consider my evidence: Ann and Sharon, and i hear Denise wants to try me out, too. Apparently, frustrated, unhappy wives are a dime a dozen, and - quite frankly - I have a lot of dimes.