Just Life Ch. 01bystaceykay©
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I have always loved my wife, Stacey. We were always each others' best friend enjoying much of the same past times: hiking, biking, movies, computers, house renovating, each other, even some mild sexual kinks. Some would say we were the perfect couple, always laughing with and loving on each other. But there is always something in every couple that seems to not quite fit, keeping anyone just shy of perfect; that's just life.
We had two obvious such somethings. One minor; one not so. The first was my incessant desire (possibly even need) to try to display my lovely wife; some friends even called it "voyeuristic exhibitionism." Would my wife win a modeling career? Probably not, but her 6' blonde frame was exquisite none the less and I was proud of her for it. However, her modest upbringing prevented her from wearing clothes that were too provocative in public and her poor ratio of petite feet to her wondrous height prevented her from comfortably wearing heals for any duration. I was generously rewarded with many of these divine gifts in the privacy of our dwelling, but she was not keen on wearing them in public. While a nagging desire in the back of my mind to share her view and watch the envy of those around me as she strutted on my arm, it was nothing that could not be overcome or pushed aside. That's just life.
This flippant and fickle desire was nothing compared to our other issue. We had been married for four years and been without birth control for even longer, but had yet to produce offspring despite our very active bedroom lifestyle. Many doctors were puzzled and my wife & I both endured a barrage of medicines with no results. While still in our twenties we wanted to begin a family life now, but the powers that be seemed to just not be working in our favor. Just a cruel part of life.
Chapter 1 -- Shopping
Thus, we poured ourselves into various activities and projects in hopes of filling the current void in our life. Not the least of which is renovating our house. Our current project is the bedroom; we're working on an oriental theme with an emphasis on classic deep blood reds & black and including as many neat trinkets as possible to add those extra little touches.
I mentioned our renovation plans to Jack, one of my coworkers, while comparing our workloads at home as well as at our paying profession, and he pointed out a quaint little oriental trade shop a few blocks from work. Having never heard of it, I made a mental note to go check it out at lunch later. In the mean time, the monotony of work beckoned and we needed to return.
Once lunch finally rolls around, I asked Jack if he'd be interested in checking out the oriental shop, but he had a meeting or some other lame excuse about having to eat in. Jack really was a work-a-holic. But that's just life for him.
In any event, the directions he gave were rather well and it was a nice brisk walk on a clear day. After hearing the tinkling of the bell toll once I was inside, I knew I would have to watch my wallet here as I could easily go further in debt in a store like this. There were dozens of mismatched oriental furniture pieces, and all sorts of genuine looking art pieces. This definitely was not a cookie cutter chain store but something closer to a second hand store for authentic, high-quality, oriental wares. Most of it appeared out of our price range, but some of the smaller accent pieces could be excellent additions to our room. I was so enraptured by all the exquisite details, it never occurred to me that I hadn't seen anyone else; even someone minding the store.
Suddenly startled by a shuffling coming from the back, my head shot up to see a very elderly looking oriental man come walking out from the back. I realized where some of these items may have come from when I was forced to decipher through his very think Chinese accent, "Hello! Welcome to my store. See anything you like?" I must have looked appalling staring at him dumbfoundedly while my brain churned away on those simple words. He merely chuckled and continued, "Yes.... plenty here for you."
"Um... yes, yes... you have quite a fine selection," I finally answered. "My wife and I are looking to redecorate our bedroom and you have some very fine items here. I am mostly looking at the moment, but I'm sure I will be back with her for several purchases."
"Ah yes, but that is not all you seek for your bedroom and your wife... is it, Geoff?"
My brain wrapped so hard around decrypting his question, it didn't even register that he used my name. "I'm sorry; what do you mean?"
"You seek more from her even though she give so much. She does not do everything you need and leaves you unfulfilled."
"I'm sorry, but you must be confused, sir. My personal life is none of your business, but I will have you know I have a very loving, adoring, and attentive wife! And I will thank you stick to the business at hand." I had made the cardinal rule of bartering, because I should have just left after being insulted so personally rather than continuing to argue the point and showing my desire to buy. But I just couldn't pass up what was available here.
"Ah, but there are things that you have not given her either leaving her unfulfilled as well." That stung as I know even though we have not been able to have children yet, Stacey has been disappointed we haven't been able to conceive.
"What are you trying to get at, old man?"
"Come here and I show you," as he shuffled off behind a counter waving to me to follow.
As I approached slowly still trying to figure out why I was still entertaining this conversation, he reached under the counter and brought out a roll of velvet. As he slowly unrolled the velvet, it exposed some very old looking parchment. Looking closer I could tell this was genuine bamboo parchment just looking at the edges, the thickness, and the way it held its weight; no modern-day paper can ever simulate that. By the looks of it, it was definitely old; much older than even most of the artwork on his walls.
However, one strange thing immediately spoke out about this very old parchment: it was totally blank. There were two sheets that he slowly spread apart and neither had a drop of ink anywhere on them. Why there would be such old parchment never used, but still so delicate kept over such an obvious time period escaped me.
Looking up at him, he was sporting a very broad and toothy smile, "Ahh... very nice, eh? And yes very old, too."
"Well... yes, but they are blank."
This brought out a very deep and throaty chuckle for such a small and aged man, "Hahaha. But of course! How else you use them if they have already been used?" This was followed by some under the breath comment in his native tongue that I could only assume was something along the lines of "silly American" based on tone alone.
"Okay, and what exactly would I use them for?"
"To help you and your wife" or was it life? Very hard to tell with his accent.
"How? Eat them? Burn them? Use them for tea bags? What?" At this he was most startled and against.
He follows this up with some very long winded grumbling and what I can only assume is cursing as he paces behind the counter alternately staring at the floor and parchment and glaring at me.
"NO!" He finally spoke plainly violently landing his hands on the counter. "You *WRITE* on them." Punctuating this with a slap to my cheek.
Nursing the side of my face in stunned silence he continued.
"You take two pens of good, strong ink and soft, delicate tip. Divide parchment and pen between you and wife." He continues as I focus on getting through his quaint accent. "You write what you would like to see in her; she writes what she would like to see in you. Then place under pillow and sleep. In morning, everything is as you both would like. All Happy!" There was that toothy grin.
"Okay, I'm supposed to take this very old parchment. My wife and I write on it. I put what I'd like to change about Stacey; she puts what she'd like to change about me. Then we sleep on it?"
He nods, and then answers gravely, "but *never* use names; only use `man spouse' and `woman spouse'."
"Sounds like a therapy exercise. Also sounds like a lot of trouble when she reads it..."
"NO!" Cutting me off quickly in mid-sentence, "Never read! Only write and put under pillow. Must not read!"
Okay makes since as would allow us to be honest. Sounds like an interesting exercise, but I'd be damned if I'd use this old parchment for a silly exercise like that.
In any event, I figured that some artwork and framing could add a bit of personal touch to our theme and his sales pitch deserved some reward, so I asked the final question, "How much?"
I must have misunderstood; that is a steel for two genuine, classic bamboo parchment sheets, but before I could allow him to correct it I took out my wallet and handed him a $10 bill.
As his hand touch the modern day weaved artwork, I found myself standing outside my office building 6 blocks away with a roll of velvet in my hand and not remembering taking a step from his store. "It's got to be the heat."
Listening to the church bells in the background announce the time, I knew I'd have to hurry to get back upstairs before my staff meeting. Just back to my life.
Chapter 2 -- Coming home
When I returned home that evening, my wife greeted me in her usual affectionate kiss inside. Looking at her sweats I thought about how beautiful she still was but was such a shame hiding her lovely figure. She quickly saw the roll of velvet in my hand. "Ooo... what's that?!?"
"Oh, John pointed out this great little shop downtown that had some awesome classic furniture and decorations that would be perfect for our bedroom, even if the owner is a bit odd." At that I began to roll out the parchment on the table.
"Odd, huh? Wow! Great parchment!" She gently turned both pieces over than looked at me quizzically. "They're blank."
"I know. I thought it was weird too. The guy went on and on about using them for some therapy exercise, but I thought they'd be great to make some artwork ourselves to frame and hang them in our room as sort of a personal touch, but still in theme. And I couldn't pass up $10 for both pieces."
"$10!?! But these must be over 200 years old!"
"I know; I don't get it either." I went to the kitchen to grab some water from the fridge.
"What type of exercise was he talking about?"
I proceeded to relay his instructions to her to the best, then followed it up with my own bit of commentary, "seems like a silly waste."
"I don't know," came her response to my surprise. "I think it could be nice to do something personal like that, then decorate the other side and hang them up on the wall. Maybe when we're old and gray we could look at them and laugh about it."
"Heh, I don't know... he did say `never'. Still, sweetie, I think it might be silly."
"I tell you what." She went into the office and came back with two fountain pens she likes to keep around for signing legal documents, "You take this into the office," handing me a pen and parchment, "and I'll take this one into the den." At that, she skipped off to the den. "Well, I guess I'll go to the office."
Plopping down in the "comfy" office chair, I stared at the parchment trying to decide if I really wanted to deface it like this. After 15 minutes of staring and her not coming to check on me, I figured I might as well.
For the next half hour I wrote every fickle aspect that I might change in my exquisite wife, laughing the whole time about how I it will be such a great chuckle when we're old and gray. I touched on everything from wardrobe & dressing style, to a plastic surgeon's dream & behavioral changes. Once I finally thought I had covered all the bases, I reread over it, expecting my wife to come back by and laugh it off. Since she never came, I added one final line and chuckled to myself knowing it would never happen and figured I'd venture out to see what she was doing. I feared how many flaws she might be writing to change in me.
Instead, I found her finishing up dinner in the kitchen. "There you are," she responded upon seeing me enter the dining room. "The pasta and sauce are almost done. The rolls are on the table. I didn't think it'd be that hard to find a few flaws in me.... or did you find that many?"
"No, no... just couldn't figure out what to write." It was a lie, but I didn't want to hurt her, so I strategically kept the blank backing to her.
"I love you. Well, run upstairs and put it under your pillow and then come down and eat, sir. Need to keep you well fed."
I ran upstairs cursing myself that I was so petty about the little things. Oh, well, as long as she just never looks till much later when we can laugh it off there will be no harm. I gently placed the paper under my pillow and returned downstairs to seeing my wife serving dinner.
Dinner was rather uneventful, but was filled with a rather bit more of flirting from her than usual. I kinda liked it and hoped it headed for more. However, as she placed the plates in the sink to be washed she let out a deep yawn, "I think I'll get these tomorrow. I'm just gonna go hit the hay. Care to join me?"
Suddenly feeling the sandman enter my brain, bed didn't sound like such a bad idea. "Yah, sounds good."
As I followed her upstairs, I liked watching what little of her hip definition I could see beneath her sweats swing from side to side. She looked back as she turned the corner and caught the stare and chuckled, "enjoy these raggedly old pants do you? I thought you begged for skirts and stockings?"
"Heh, well, just thinking about what I'm missing I guess," and winked at her.
She then grabbed a night gown from her drawer and went into the bathroom. `Damn! Not even gonna get a strip show tonight,' I thought as I yawned. `I had no idea I was this tired.' I proceeded to strip down to my boxers and crawl into bed.
She exited the bathroom in a very long and modest gown. She crawled under the covers and turned on her side. I then proceeded to snuggle up next to her. "honey, its too hot for being so close. Some other time. I'm just too tired." To which she shifted and yawn and appeared to fall asleep. Well, just my daily life.
I rolled back over and closed my eyes. Nearly immediately falling into a dream world. I remember thinking about all I had wrote. How I'd love to see her in much more revealing clothes, a bit fitter, a bit more receptive, and a bit more explorative. Well, maybe not quite that subtle but close enough.
Chapter 3 -- The awakening
Slowly I woke up and rubbed the sleep out my face. I slowly pulled the covers back and gently crawled over to the other side of the bed, making sure not to wake my slumbering partner. This morning, it would be a lovely wakeup call. I gently lowered my head between those glorious legs finding the sweet, sensitive spot slowly licking up and down the length of the beautiful sexual organ. A sweet moan escapes my sleeping lover's lips as I wonder what exactly this is doing to dreams.
I continue my ministrations focusing on my lover's pleasure trying to hit every sweat little spot thinking about how much enjoyment I hope I'm bringing. I am rewarded with the swelling of my lover's sex; a clear indication of the subconscious approving of my tactics. I continue on working to bring the release I so desperately wanted from my darling lover bringing me my own sweat reward.
I slowly suckle on the most sensitive organ of the body concentrating on blowing my spouse's dreaming mind wide. Suckling, licking, and lightly nibbling I hear deep breaths from above me as a hand is placed on the back of my head. With that indication of the continued enjoyment I bring, a smile forms on my lips very pleased with myself as my head is buried deep in my lovers crotch. In continue slurping, sucking, doing all I can to bring sweat release. The hand on the back of my head grabs onto my hair (a moan escapes my lips) and centers my lips for direct targeting.
Feeling his cock begin to twitch, I sealed my lips along his shaft as I felt the sweat nectar of my lover's cock exquisitely slip down my throat feeling a shiver run down my body straight into my pussy as I felt my own juices run down my leg.
Suddenly, with the act done, reality hit me and I sat bolt upright. Looking at the head of the bed was a head panting that looked so familiar to me, but yet just slightly different to me. When I saw what should be *my* lips pant out to me, "Geoff?" I fainted there on the bed as the last line I wrote yesterday popped in my head: "female spouse will wake male spouse tomorrow with the most exquisite blow job she has ever given, loving every minute of it."
What just happened to my life?
To be continued....
This is my first story, and I'm still finishing up the next part; more interesting things in store! Let me know what you think so far. I know it may seem a little formulaic, but I'm trying to put my own little twist into classic storyline. Hope you enjoy!