Fantasy Pt. 01: New Year's Eve

She put her mouth to my ear. "Would you like me to do that to you, big boy?"

"Yeah. Right now." It wouldn't happen. It had never happened, not all the way. Sure, some women like doing it, as part of a sexual encounter or even as its own thing, but contrary to what you see on porn sites most can't stomach it. Yeah, I intended the pun. And, yeah, I looked it up. Some will on a rare occasion screw their courage to the sticking place and do it, then congratulate themselves that they've given a lover something special. I'm not disputing that. Not one bit. But most won't cross that line and Alice hadn't, not once. Still that she'd even hint of it was sexy as hell.

"Let's go home."

In any event, it's irrelevant. We went home and sexed. The second night in a row. That in itself didn't happen very often. But we did the same things as the night before.

* * * * *

The wheel turned, as I guess it does, but just barely. A few days of the New Year passed, life went on, and then something happened. What happened? Something. Something changed between our phone conversation at lunch and when I came home at dinner time. Why was she different? What was going on? I came in the door from work and Alice was different. I should have marked it on my calendar. It seems a lifetime ago, but it was only a few months back.

"Hi, honey, I'm home." She ignored me and went on chopping some lettuce. I bent to give her a peck and she hardly responded. "Helloooo?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Henry. I'm just tired. I'll have dinner ready in about half an hour. Why don't you watch the news?" She didn't look at me as she said it. Her eyes wandered up to the cabinets, then to the refrigerator, to anywhere but right at me. Her voice had that flatness, you know, the tone that says "I'm upset but I'm not going to tell you why; you have to figure it out." Oh shit, what was the matter? What had I done?

That wasn't how we were. We always chatted and joked, except when we were having a fight. But there was no fight. Nothing had happened. I couldn't be certain she was really angry. She was more—how to put it? — distant, as though something was on her mind that she wouldn't tell me.

There wasn't much conversation during dinner. She left the table early. She asked to be excused during the national news and walked out of the room. Definitely angry. What had I done? It had to be bad.

But then she came back in while I was clearing the dishes and gave me a hug. It was so sudden and intense I almost dropped a plate. One minute I'm staring out the window at our grape trellis, feeling hollow inside and wondering how I can make right something that's hidden from me, and the next minute Alice is holding me like she's afraid I might try to get away from her.

"I'm sorry, honey," she said. "Really, I'm just tired. But let's go to bed early tonight, okay?"

And in bed it was different, in the good way. She came out in lingerie to get me, carrying the candle. This wasn't Alice. It was almost embarrassing. Then she attacked me, and played with my erection the whole wobbly walk back to the bedroom, while we frenched like mad. In bed she asked, "Honey, will you do that thing? With your tongue?"

I wasn't expecting that. I thought, you decided three or four years ago that you didn't want me to do that anymore. What had changed? What I said was: "Of course, ma'am. It's my pleasure."

So I pushed her thighs apart with my shoulders and went down. Her legs were pulled up, leaving her knees in the air, and I could look straight down to her bush. I brushed one thigh all the way down, over her vagina, and up the other side, giving her chills. Everything was so soft, her thighs especially, even getting plumper like they were. I gave her nibbles all the way down both sides, and gave her a hickey, before I nestled into her mound. I sucked in her labia, ran my tongue up and down between them, then searched out her little nub. I hadn't thought about her taste for a long time, but right away I remembered what I had liked about it. It was even better when I moved my tongue down to her vagina and pushed inside. She was so damn tangy in there.

It wasn't that her body was open to me. Well, yes, of course it was partly that, her thighs and vagina spread for me and hidden from everyone else, there for me to use, the feel of her skin and her soft puff of brown pubic fur and the plumpness of her labia there for me alone. But it was also the other, that I could tell I gave her touches of pleasure and excitement, then jolts of them, that I could do this to her and know she wanted it and that I had touched something deep and personal and usually hidden.

Alice was holding my head, pulling me into her. When I looked up her eyes were open and she was staring at what I was doing. I moved to her button and began circling it with my tongue, once twice, again, again. At about the third pass she sighed and closed her eyes. Her hands clenched in my hair. I kept it up. Sigh, Alice. Moan for me. Love it. Show you love it. Show it. She began huffing, "hah, hah!" like she does when she's really high, and her voice went higher and higher until it was like a begging little whimper, and then she came for me.

"Please, honey. Come inside me. Hurry. Please." I got inside her and began humping while she squeezed me with her vagina. I think she came again before I finished.

* * * * *

Whatever the problem had been, it was gone. Or so it seemed. Everything was fine when Alice got home the next evening, her day to work late. I was fixing a dish with pork loin and she came right up to me, hugged me tight, and said, "I love you so much, Henry." She kept giving me surprise little kisses during the evening, and whispering "I love you." Finally, when she was getting ready for bed, I came up behind her, reached around, and rolled both her nipples.

"Oh, do you have something in mind?"

"I know how to push your button."

"You nasty, nasty man."

"I'll show you nasty in a few minutes." I went to the bedroom, lit the candle, and lay there naked, watching the soft flickers on the ceiling and caressing my penis to keep it up for her, until she came into the room. She wore a peignoir under a green satin robe, old anniversary gifts that usually stayed in the armoire.

"Stop right there, lady. This is a stick-up."

She looked at my penis. "I can tell that."

"So drop your clothes right there and get ready to be robbed."

"Of what? My virginity was taken long ago. By you, I believe. Have you lost it?" She was beginning to disrobe.

"I want some more of what I tasted last night."

"Oh! Oh. Well, we might have some more."

Indeed she did. But even more was to come. I licked her to orgasm again. It was a lot like the previous night, so I was able to watch her get higher and higher and then explode, but when she had come she didn't ask me to put it inside her.

"Let me do you, honey." I lay down and she began playing with my penis. She took baby powder and used it on my balls and cock, tickling the whole ensemble until I could hardly stand it. I wanted to touch her while she did it, but she knelt between my legs so I couldn't touch her. She played with me for a good while, then she sucked my dick in as far as she could take it, moving her mouth up and down, that hot mouth, soft flesh on my penis. Jesus, I got so close so fast. I put a hand to her head.

"I'm getting close. I'm almost there."

She lifted off. "Leave it up to me. Lay back." So I lay back and she fucked my dick with her mouth, then pulled out as I came, all over my belly and chest. She got a warm, wet washcloth while I lay there gasping, and cleaned me up.

* * * * *

We made love a third night in a row.

* * * * *

But the next afternoon she was distant, flat, moody. It was like the first day. What was wrong?

"I'm just tired," she said.

I thought, it'll pass again, like before, but it didn't that night. She hardly spoke again and I could hardly get a peck out of her at bedtime.

But sure enough, the next night she came out to the den when I was watching TV, opened my pants, knelt down, and sucked me. She said almost nothing, just "get your pants down," and she helped pull them. She'd never done such a thing, any of it, and I didn't know how to respond. She just did it. And then ... she didn't pull away at the end. She kept me in until I came and took it all. Every drop. I lay back and held her head against me and she kept sucking at me and swallowing. It wasn't the wife I knew, but I didn't question it, so filled was I with bliss and befuddlement. What had happened?

And here it got strange. Darkly strange. When she was done, she wouldn't let me do her back, or do anything at all. She got up and walked away, leaving me finished. She didn't respond when I tried to interest her later. She ... no, nothing. I seemed to be right back in the doghouse.

Then ... oh, you could see this coming, couldn't you? You're far ahead of me, the village idiot. Well, maybe the village idiot doesn't want to imagine all the possibilities. She became permanently distant. By permanent I mean forever, though forever was really only a few days, lasting until she left me. Little conversation, no sex, a lot of time spent reading back in the bedroom or surfing the Net on her computer. That was when she was home at all, because she had to go back to the office to work late twice, and she found the need to go shopping alone Saturday and Sunday.

I tried to keep busy, so I wouldn't keep wondering why I was so in the outs and why it followed the fellatio. There must be a connection, though the facts of her coldness and the explosive sex seemed so far apart that I couldn't make sense of anything. I became lost. What I wouldn't give for that to have been the worst of it.

I may as well stop here, where it does get worse.

End of Part One