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She was humming as she changed the sheets from the smooth percale she liked to the fuzzy flannel he preferred. She imagined what she would do to him tonight, and her humming grew quieter until finally it ceased.

First she would undress him, slowly, slowly, kissing him softly as each bit of flesh became visible. “To keep it from getting cold,” she would say teasingly. They’d done this before — he would say, “No fear of that!” and they would laugh together as she began to stroke his skin with her warm hands.

Then she would push him slowly back until he fell onto the bed and she would take his penis into her hand. By now he would be fully erect, and it would jump as she touched it. They would laugh again at this familiar occurrence.

Next she would begin to lick him with little, teasing cat-laps at his skin, all over him, from his collarbones to his toes, but avoiding his crotch. She would roll him over and lap at his back, covering every inch of his skin, and then she would suck at his toes…

The phone rang, shattering the intimate silence. She picked it up. “Hello? Oh, hi! I was just thinking about you! When are you getting here? Oh. Oh, I see. Yes. Yes. Bye, then.” He wasn’t coming after all. Again. She was momentarily disappointed, but then she began to get angry.

“Who needs you anyway?” she demanded of the walls in a quiet but intense voice. “Damn you!” She was already wet and wanting from her imaginings.

She went downstairs to put away the wine she had gotten out for him. She seldom drank wine herself; she disliked the taste. She paused, looking at the bottle. It was almost empty. “Am I sex-starved, or what?” she asked herself, as she noted the phallic shape of the bottle’s neck. She picked up the bottle and one of her two crystal wineglasses and took them up to her bedroom and set them on the nightstand.

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This is a story about my wife and me. I’ll try to tell it as it happened, but since 13 or so years have passed since our first meeting, some of the memories have probably gotten better with age.

It all started with a chili-eating contest at a local bar… You know, one of those silly things that one does on a dare. Your friends saying, “sure sign up, I’ll be there to help cheer you on.” Bull! It was just me, 2 beers, a quart of chili, and about 15 other contestants.

I won’t go into all of the gory details about the contest. The winner did it in a minute and thirty three seconds, and then threw up on the guy standing next to him. I did it in about 33 minutes.

Winning second place, was ok, I guess. The photographer was taking pictures of me and the winner for some newsletter, and he kept saying one more, one more. I looked at the winner, and he looked at me… We both turned around and dropped trou for the camera. He wanted to see a smile. How about a vertical one?

Time to pick up the beer cooler, and the six-pack of long necks, and head home. Another chapter in life is closed. Or so I thought.

A couple of weeks later I’m sitting at the bar of the local watering hole, nursing a beer. Checking out the ladies in the mirror that runs the length of the bar, I see one a few stools down that keeps looking at me (or at least I think she is looking at me), and then talking to her friend sitting next to her. I happen to glance over and see a stack of papers on her lap. Recognizing them as the newsletter from the beer distributor that sponsored the chili eating contest, I ask her “Is that the new SilverBird?” She says no, and then a look of surprise comes across her face. She then says “I know who you are, I’ve seen your picture before. Both FRONT and REAR!”

Now I’m trying to think fast. Where had she seen my picture before? Especially from the rear. She then tells me that she works for the PR firm that handles the SilverBird account. And that the photographer had brought in the proof sheets from the contest. She said that she had a good time looking at those tiny little pictures. A bit more interesting than the ones the photographer usually brings in.

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As I walked in the door, coming home from the office, I saw my wife Carolyn standing by the cabinet preparing dinner. Carolyn has a body built like a brick shithouse with all the fixtures in the right place. Today she looked especially good wearing a skimpy halter top with a pair of low cut shorts that fit snugly around her ass with the outline of her bikini panties showing through.

Crossing the room and walking up behind her I reached around and cupped one of her tits with my hand while caressing her ass with the other and gave her a little nibble on the earlobe. “What’s for dinner?” I asked while dropping my hand from her tit to rub her cunt suggestively.

“Company,” she replied.

I heard a voice from the den calling “Come on in, we have the fire going.” As I entered the room, Ron, a friend of the family, rose from a recliner with a drink in his hand and a bulge in the front of his pants. “You horny old bastard” I said, “What the hell are you doing over here?”

“His wife is out of town and he was lonely so I asked him over for dinner and drinks.” Carolyn said as she came into the room bringing me a drink.

Kicking off my shoes I sat on the couch, sipped my drink and watched Carolyn walk back into the kitchen, her ass moving like two pigs caught in a gunny sack. As I thought of what could have been, my dick started to swell and I realized what Ron probably was thinking when I came home.

At dinner Ron could not keep his eyes off Carolyn, every time she leaned over the table her tits bulged against the halter top with the nipples pressing against the cloth. I noticed that as she moved around the table she found several excuses to bump both Ron and myself with her ass, one time rubbing her cunt on Ron’s shoulder.

After dinner we all got fresh drinks and moved back into the den. Sitting on the floor in front of the fire Carolyn stretched her legs out and ran her hand slowly up and down the inside of her thigh.

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In retrospect, I should have known that his plans for the evening were more elaborate than he’d told me. They always are. But I went into it thinking that we were simply having dinner with a friend of his, a man he referred to as an excellent conversationalist and a ‘fun’ person.

I wore almost-normal clothes — a long skirt with high-heeled boots, scoop necked silk shirt with a pendant in the shape of his mark. My buttocks still tingled from the spanking he’d given me earlier, and I could feel a bruise swelling gently on my thigh where he’d bitten me. There was a certain extra thrill in feeling the aches and throbs in my body after he had done with me. I relished them as a secret thrill when people saw us together, for we were close friends and no one knew of the deeper relationship we shared.

The man he introduced to me as Orion was already seated in a booth at the restaurant when we arrived. He was tall and slim, with a stern countenance and icy grey eyes that thawed a little when he smiled. My master ordered for me, and this was my first clue that something was up. He ordered a light, easily digestible meal which alerted me to the fact that I would possibly need to be ready for action before long. Or he could simply be teasing me…

But no.

He and Orion chatted easily over their wine. I sat back and enjoyed the witty conversation, relishing the feel of my master’s leg against mine. He was not paying much attention to me, other than to smile at me occasionally or feed me a morsel of food from his plate. I began to relax, the wine making me feel mellow and a little sleepy.

Suddenly his head snapped around and when I looked into his eyes I knew the game was about to begin. Still, I was stunned when he slapped my face lightly and ordered me to go to the restroom and remove my underwear.

My face must have showed my amazement. How could he talk to me like this in front of Orion? No one knew of our relationship save my master and me, his slave. And now he was ordering me around in front of a man I had just met!

My hesitation seemed to anger Orion, because he leaned over the table and grabbed my face in his hands, squeezing my cheeks painfully. His eyes were frosty.

“Do you hesitate, little one? Most unwise.”

My head immobile, I looked pleadingly, shocked, at my master, but he met my frightened eyes with a glare. He wanted it this way!

As I left the table, I felt a tear slide down my cheek. It was a salt sister to the moisture between my legs.

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He’d talked to her an innumerable number of times on the telephone. As a matter of fact, they had been casually flirting over AT&T for nearly 6 months. Neither had seen one another so as they walked into the meeting room where they were supposed to have their week-long meeting, both were looking for the other. He knew her right away because she was the only woman in the room. Before the meeting began, he made a point of walking up and introducing himself. “Hi, I’m Peter Watkins,” he said. “I believe we’ve met, over the phone.” Her handshake was firm but there was no commitment there and her eyes only glimpsed his as they said their pleasantries.

It was a working meeting and she was in one group while he was in another. Only occasionally did they have to address one another. Toward the end of the meeting, he asked for some assistance from anyone in the room. As she looked at him, their eyes met, seriously, for the first time. He knew, she was his. Of course, in a meeting such as this, there was no time for exploring the relationship further. But tomorrow was another day.

Since she lived in the general area, she left with her car pool and he wandered back to the hotel following the meeting. The next morning, he was in the meeting room getting ready for the meeting when she came in with an arm full of papers to be distributed. He jumped up to help her and lifted the load from her arms. As he did, his arm brushed against her body. To anyone else, it would have looked innocent, but he knew there was electricity passed on that casual touch. So did she; they both knew it. During the day, he had several other opportunities to be close to her. His touch was returned, albeit only slightly, each time. He knew she was his. She knew she was attracted to this man.

That’s all there was to this first meeting. Although they did go to dinner at her home and met her husband, two children, dogs, cats and assorted other house guests. He knew, however, there would be many more meetings and the foundation had been laid. She knew too.

The next time was a working meeting in Phoenix, far from both their homes. As usual, the first day was casual, with the greetings and small talk that normally accompanied such meetings. Oh sure, they got their work done but the real meeting was to take place later.

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