by Cyan
Copyright 2007 by Cyan
All Rights Reserved; No Redistribution.
"Look!" said Carol, very clearly getting a touch upset. She took a deep breath. "You could help."
I could have used a deep breath myself. Carol very well knew what I cared about. That wasn't news to her. "You know the game is on," I said. Just twelve times a year, thirteen if all goes well. She had things she cared about. She ought to know about mine.
"You could record it," she said.
"Carol," I said.
She rolled her eyes. Only for an instant, but I saw it. "You can work while it's on," she said. "Please, I need help. You've known about this party and you--you want it to be nice, don't you?" At least her voice had finally softened.
I looked around the living room. It really didn't look all that bad. "It won't take long to pick up a little. And really, no one will care."
"No one will care?" said Carol, getting excited again. For just a moment, she looked defeated, and I have to admit I felt for her. "I care," she said. "Does that mean anything?" I have to admit it grates me any time someone starts accusing me of not caring. She really wasn't making any headway and I wished she'd see that. "You could leave the TV on while you were working. Right here," she said, indicating the living room.
I couldn't believe she'd think that was the same. Glancing up to find a big play had just finished, then trying to wait for the replay? "I'm really sorry," I said, quite honestly. "I can't move the game." It really was that simple.
For a moment Carol said nothing. She stared past me as if her thoughts were somewhere else entirely. Then, she said, "I really, really need your help." Her eyes were on mine. She definitely wanted to guilt me into it. Then she smiled.
I was taken aback. "Look," she said, her voice suddenly mild. "I'll tell you what. I'll leave it entirely up to you whether you sit there and watch your game or you help me." She'd stepped closer and I found myself transfixed. This was very unlike Carol. "But," she said, looking up at me from very close. Her hand went to my crotch.
For a moment, all that happened was that she massaged. Rubbed. I couldn't have been more amazed. "You like this?" she said. I said nothing, seeing what she was doing. But I didn't move. "I would very much appreciate it if you helped out. Very much. It's totally up to you, but remember how much I'd appreciate it, OK?"
She moved even closer, until her body was against mine. She put the side of her face to my chest, giving me a half hug. All while her hand never left my crotch. "I'll be back with the groceries," she said, backing up enough to look up at me again.
And she slipped out the front door. I was left, standing there, bemused. Sure it felt good, the way she touched me, and it was a shocker seeing Carol so seductive. The game was about to begin, so I found my chair. I knew I'd be hers after the game, to work on the house as much as she wanted.
I stared at the kickoff. We were receiving, and the return wasn't bad. One of our receivers was back from an injury and we'd been talking at work about this all week. The offense lined up. The quarterback didn't find the receivers but managed not to lose any yards: second and nine.
I glanced, no, looked, around the living room. Carol wanted the carpet vacuumed. I marveled at the thought of this new stratagem she was attempting to employ. Well, it was better than arguing. It certainly felt better. I tried to remember the last time I'd seen that look on her face. Back when we were first dating? One night on our honeymoon? The second play, they completed a pass. Third and short.
I wondered what she had planned, regarding her coy promise. If anything. Previously, she had intended to be busy preparing for the party all day. I looked around the living room again.
* * *
I heard the front door open. Despite myself, I turned from the game. She came in, grocery bag in hand, and stopped, and I did my best to turn back to the game.
There was silence behind me. Then I heard the bag laid on the table and her footsteps. Then she was next to me, then on the arm of my chair. She kissed my cheek, then wormed into the chair half on my lap, next to me. "Yes?" I said, as if I had no idea what she was up to.
Her eyes went down to my crotch for a moment, then back up to my face. And she began rubbing me again. "I told you I would appreciate it," she said, with a smile.
"Did you?" I asked, in mock ignorance. It felt very good, what she was doing. Her look was one of...
She still looked seductive. Teasing. I considered the game, which I was already beginning to miss more of. Would I actually leave it, for this? It felt very good. And Carol's mood was intriguing.
But if she took time for that kind of thing, what time did she gain? She'd merely be trading extra work done for extra delay. "And," she said, "I'd really like it if you brought in the groceries. I'd really like it."
"Oh?" I said. I realized I hadn't said no. I glanced at the television, thinking about what I was already missing.
"Just remember," she said, "I'd really like it." As she stood, she kept her hand on my crotch for the longest possible moment, then walked back to the bag of groceries. As she headed for the kitchen with it, she gave me another smile.
I sat there, staring after her as she disappeared into the kitchen. The game. But I hadn't turned back to it more than a moment, when I thought about the groceries in the car.
When I put the first bags on the kitchen table, I approached Carol from behind, as she was putting things away. I caught her by the hips, my body against hers. "Oh, are you interested?" she said.
"Are you?" I countered.
She twisted quickly and I found her in my arms. I saw her glance take in the additional bags on the table. Looking up at me, she put her arms around my neck. "I told you it would turn me on," she said. Then, sliding her hands off me, she managed to trail a hand down to my crotch. She smiled as she did it, saying "How about the rest of them?"
* * *
As soon as the last bags were on the table, her hand was on my crotch again. She took me more firmly, and slowly, rhythmically squeezed. "It does turn me on," she said, grinning. "And you know what else would really turn me on?" she said.
Without awaiting my answer, she withdrew and grabbed my hand, leading me through the door. To the bathroom. "I need to get the food going," she said. "I'd really like it if the bathroom were cleaned."
I stared at the room. Other than the fact that she was milking this for all it was worth, I couldn't recall cleaning a bathroom since I was single, and not likely up to her standards. Her hand was on my crotch again. "I'd really like it. Just looking clean and shiny." Her body leaned against mine. Both hands were on my crotch this time. One hand went around to my rear and patted it.
I couldn't remember Carol ever doing such a thing. "I really like this," she said.
* * *
At long last, they were all gone. I could tell Carol was pleased, even without the glances she gave me all evening. Carol took one more look at the piled dishes and headed for the bedroom, obviously exhausted.
I considered. We said nothing as we changed for bed, even less than usual. She seemed simply tired, and I was gauging her mood. Once in bed, we turned the lights out immediately.
She kissed me. "Thank you," she whispered. Her hand found my crotch again. "I'm exhausted now, but I don't forget," she said. I'd half-seen this coming. Her hand went to my crotch again. "Don't forget me tonight," she said, speaking softly, but aloud. Her voice had that quality again. Amusement and promises.
She let go and rolled over.
* * *
I awoke to feel her moving. It was morning. She was in my arms: I vaguely recalled adopting this position in the middle of the night.
She separated from me turned over in bed, to face me. She kissed me, once, long enough to be sweet. Not quite like sometimes when she wanted it, but close. "I think..." I said.
She'd found my crotch again with her hand, which, even in bed, was so unlike her that I found myself taken aback. "You turned me on so much yesterday," she said. For the moment, I simply enjoyed the sensation. I couldn't believe the anticipation I felt from just the previous afternoon. "Let's get up," she said, and suddenly withdrew. And was out of bed.
I sat up, to look at her. "Come here," she said, grinning. Now this was also quite unlike Carol. Wondering where this was leading, I followed her.
She stood in the kitchen door. The dishes were piled on the counter. "You know it bugs me to know they're here," she said. She turned to smile at me. "I'd really like it if they went away." Then her hand was on my crotch again.
"Are you a devil?" I said.
She was turned, part of her body pressed against mine, her hand on my crotch between. "I'm just hot at the thought," she said. "I love it when you help out." Then her hand withdrew. She put it on my rear for a moment, rubbing. "You like it when I touch you, don't you?" she said.
"Well, naturally," I said.
She held my eyes for a moment. "Good," she finally said. "I really want to touch you some more." She patted my rear, then gave it a little push. Toward the sink.
I heard her leave while I was washing. "I missed the gym yesterday, getting ready," she said, "and I know they're open this morning." I turned back to the sink. There was an awful lot to do.
* * *
It was four in the afternoon. I looked at the trimming I'd just done, around the garden. Carol appeared. "Come here," she said, leading me back into the house. Into the kitchen. She showed me a cookbook. "I'd like it if you made this," she said, indicating the page.
I was absolutely floored. Carol very much knew my cooking skills and experience, which were absolutely non-existent. "You must be thinking of some other husband," I said.
She laughed. "I think you can learn," she said. "And I'd really like it." Her hand was on my crotch as soon as she said that.
* * *
"So," I said, as we got ready for bed. I considered whether I should be calling in my cards. Would that sound needy? Carol gave me a smile, and somehow I knew she knew what I was thinking. She was ready and in bed quickly. I joined her.
"You want me to touch you," she said, and her hand was on my crotch. She whispered, "it's hot when you cook for me." I thought about it: she'd been awfully tolerant of my attempt at dinner. Her hand massaged. "I love it when you do that."
I pulled her into a kiss. After a moment, she pulled out of it. "Just relax a moment," she said, finding my crotch again. "You deserve it." She massaged. I wasn't much relaxed, but I went along with it. "Relax your muscles," she said. Given how busy I'd been all day, the chance to unwind was welcome. Her hand continued. "I really, really want you," she said, finally, "but let's sleep."
"What?"
She moved closer, taking my head and putting her lips to my ear. "Let's sleep now."
"Carol," I said.
"Relax," she said. "Sleep." Her hand, which had been lightening its pressure withdrew. She turned away from me.
I considered whether to try to arouse her interest. What did she mean when she said she really wanted me? I lay there trying to make sense of it. I was tired.
* * *
She showed me the cookbook, a page she'd picked out. "It shouldn't take long," she said. And grinned.
"We could go out," I said. It was Monday, and we often grabbed something to eat out on weeknights. Her hand went to my crotch. I considered the weekend. No sex. Monday mornings, like all weekday mornings, we're up early and never have time for any of that. "You're just manipulating me," I said.
She grinned again. "You noticed," she said. "It's fun, isn't it?"
I stared at her. Well, she was honest about it, at least at this moment. "No," I said. It seemed like she was prolonging it all, this new thing of hers, rather than delivering.
"Well, then," she said, but I could tell she wasn't being serious. She withdrew her hand, which had been massaging me steadily. "But I really would like it, a lot, if you would make me dinner."
I wasn't quite sure where to take this conversation. She didn't seem open to going out. She smiled at me. When she smiled, I found my thoughts going back to that feeling, when she'd been massaging my cock. "Want me to?" she said.
I stood there. She approached again, and put her hand on my cock. "Come on, you want me, don't you?" she said, not sounding like there was any doubt about that. "Get me hot." She nodded at the cookbook.
* * *
"It's all an act, isn't it?" I said. We were getting ready for bed, and I was ready to bring this out into the open. I thought about the dinner I'd just cooked, washing the dishes, vacuuming our bedroom, and fixing a door handle that I'd been putting off for months.
She turned at that, and looked at me, holding my eye. "Absolutely not," she finally said.
"You're saying it's getting you hot," I said.
She smiled. "Remember, when a woman is feeling it," she said, "it's not that sharp have-to-have-it-right-now feeling. It's different." I stared at her. "Believe me, it gets me hot when you do--those things."
Somehow I knew I'd just relinquished any chance of sex that night by bringing up this discussion. Once in bed, she turned to me. And massaged my crotch. "It does make me hot when you do those things," she said.
* * *
When I opened the front door, Carol was coming to meet me. A woman followed her. "This is Jenna," said Carol, turning so as not to leave her back toward the woman. "She's a friend of mine." I'd seen the unfamiliar car.
I said hi, but simply wondered. I knew Carol's friends, and couldn't recall any time I'd found them at home with her when I came home from work. Carol couldn't have been here that long unless she'd gotten off early or something. Jenna smiled and said hello. She was quite a bit younger than Carol, possibly just out of college. "I've got the book open for you in the kitchen," said Carol.
Dinner. I considered Jenna, feeling slightly funny about Carol bringing this up in front of her. Carol smiled and almost seemed to wink at me. She was encouraging me. It had been a long day, and I could easily have just sat down for a bit. Carol's smile almost took on that teasing look. Almost.
I heard the sound of their voices but nothing else, as I looked over the recipe Carol had selected for me. I can't think she was enjoying my cooking, but she certainly was game, and I knew I was getting better at it. I found a suitable pan.
They appeared in the door. "See?" said Carol, to Jenna. "And the whole house," she added with a gesture around her. "He's a total sweetie."
I stood there, looking at them, smiling at me. "Amazing," said Jenna, then she spoke of having to leave.
I heard them go out the front door. I followed them that far, then looked out. They were talking, by Jenna's car. Then I saw Carol touch her.
Just Jenna's arm and shoulder, a light touch. And Carol glanced back toward the front door, just for an instant right after she'd touched Jenna. A concerned glance? For a moment, I wasn't sure what they were going to do next, but then Jenna got into the car, and I moved back toward the kitchen before Carol would discover me watching.
I studied Carol that night, as we ate dinner. She said little, but noticing my gaze, she indicated the food and smiled. That smile. "You're getting good at cooking, and I like that," she said.
That evening as we got ready for bed, I broached the subject again. Or perhaps a new subject. "Who is Jenna?" I said.
"My friend," said Carol. When I didn't react other than to simply wait for more, she said, "I have friends, you know."
"Where did you meet her?" I said.
Carol hesitated. Then she glanced at me, and then without holding my gaze, she said "Online." Then after a little bit, she said, "She's nice."
It had now been a long time since Carol and I had had sex. Or real sex, as you might say. "How long have you known her?" I said.
"Listen, what is this?" said Carol, finally looking annoyed. "A week, OK? What do you think this is?"
"Well," I said, "what is it?"
"We're friends," she said. "She's an attractive girl and we're affectionate, but that's truly all there is to it. Women aren't always having to get physical just because they're affectionate with someone nice." Given that I hadn't really made any overt accusations, I was a bit taken aback at this outburst. "We like each other," she said. "Close friends."
Close friends after a mere week? But I dropped it. Once we were in bed, Carol was touching me immediately. I wondered whether she was being particularly attentive, such as it was. She certainly seemed to be putting it on as much as she could. "You like this?" she said, in her teasing voice.
"When are we going to have sex?" I said.
She snuggled close to me, but her hand still did its evil. "You don't know how hot you've been getting me," she said. Just words. She shifted position, to face me. Her hand never stopped. "Look," she said. "You know women are different. The more sex we have, the more we want it. If you want me to want it--I'll show you how."
* * *
I knelt. She sat on the edge of the bed. I licked. "Yes, like that, exactly like that," she said. For moments, she didn't talk. "Yes," she whispered.
After that, she said not a word. The familiar sounds of her arousal followed. When it happened, it was definitely a sizable one for her. Afterward, she trembled. I began to get up, but she pushed me back to where I was. "A little more, just lightly," she said, her voice awkward for lack of breath.
As i did so, I listened to her breathing as it slowly returned to normal. Then she pushed me away. "Now that got me hot," she said.
She felt me up that night for some time. "Relax," she said. We lay in the dark, her hand on my cock. When I got closer to the point, she slowed. When I wasn't so close, she picked it up again. I don't know how many minutes she did that. It hadn't quite been like this, before. It was now late, and I could tell she was sleepy. I hardly remember when she finally stopped.
* * *
I wondered about Carol, whenever she went out in the evening. After dinner, when she'd lined up my work, and the house was in very good shape as were all the clothes, she'd sometimes go out. To the bookstore, she mentioned, or another store. But she didn't always bother to mention.
It had been so long. Not for Carol: when she didn't go out, she often had me do her. In the living room, she'd pull off her pants and underpants, lift her knees up, and hold my head while I did it. Other times, this happened at bed time, often after she had returned from wherever. Always, when we went to bed, her fingers on me. But never more than that.
I hadn't masturbated. I didn't understand that. It's like I'd stopped, right when she'd first started all this. I'd thought about that fact. It often seemed like I absolutely would do it, and I'd had plenty of chances when she was out. I never did. And somehow it seemed like she knew that.
"So how's Jenna?" I asked one evening at dinner.
Carol looked at me sharply. We'd never discussed Jenna other than that one night and I'd never seen her other than the one time. "Fine," Carol said. "I suppose," she added, after I thought she was done. "I suppose she's fine. I haven't talked to her in a bit. A couple of weeks."
I waited for more. I wasn't sure what I thought of Jenna, and I wasn't sure what Carol's reaction meant. "We're still friends," said Carol, as if she had the same issues on her mind. "I should call her again."
The next night, Carol said, "No dinner tonight for me. I'm going out."
This was a surprise. Unprecedented. "Oh?" I said.
She didn't look at me, but spoke. "I called Jenna," she said. "We're going to catch up. I need to get ready." She headed to the bedroom. When I found her, she was in a bathrobe. "Listen," she said, as if suddenly noticing me. "I want to feel good tonight." Smiling, she headed for the chair. Sitting, she let the bathrobe slide open, her legs apart. She smiled up at me.
* * *
I dried her. She'd taken a quick shower after I gave her what she wanted. I now often dried her after her showers, which she liked. Once dry, she began on her makeup.
I was amazed, how long she spent on the makeup. I'd never seen her do that. Then, in the bedroom, she spent time checking out outfits. Even changing, trying them on. Whenever I caught her eye, she smiled at me. That teasing smile. "It's just for drinks," she said. "We'll grab a bite to eat."
She left, saying she was supposed to meet Jenna at seven. And that I should go to bed if she weren't home.
I'd never seen her dressed as sexy as she was when she left the house that night.
* * *
I'd lain there in bed, perhaps an hour. It was One AM, far later than we ever stayed up on weeknights. I finally heard the front door. She came in, leaving the room dark. I smelled alcohol.
For a moment, she stood, then began to undress. "Waiting for me?" she said, quietly.
I said nothing. I knew she knew I was awake. Had she seen my eyes in the dark? She got into bed naked, for once. She giggled. "I want to feel good," she said. She wriggled closer, her crotch to my face.
* * *
After that, she only went out after dinner was done, and she always smiled at me as she was leaving. She no longer said a word about where she was going. Only that she loved what I was doing with the house, and her clothes. She never smelled of alcohol afterward. She nearly always wanted it when she returned. I never asked about Jenna. She never said anything.
One night, I spoke up. It was after she came home, and she seemed tired and not wanting it. "Do you want to be married to me?" is what I said.
She looked genuinely surprised. "You're the best husband I could possibly wish for," she said, sounding totally convincing. "What more could I want?"
I considered again. I still wondered what she had. "What about me?" I said.
"You?"
"Am I getting what I need out of this?" It had been months since I'd had an orgasm. She got them sometimes daily.
"You've shown me what you need," she said. "Haven't we been happier than ever?" I stared at her. "Admit it," she said, "it's got you hooked."
She was definitely missing the point. "Don't you think I need to..."
I broke off. I had been going to say orgasm once in a while. That was a bit weak. But I wasn't really in a position to be much stronger, having obviously gone along with all this for so long. "What do you think you need?" said Carol.
It was humiliating. She knew very well what this discussion was about, but she was making me say it. "An orgasm?" she said, before I'd given in. I said nothing. She seemed to consider. "Come here," she finally said.
I followed her into the kitchen. "Take off your clothes," she announced, with a smile. "All of them."
"Carol.." I said, though I had no idea what I might argue about. This was just weird.
"Go ahead," she said.
In moments, I stood there. She was still dressed, and looked me over. "You still make me hot," she said, and it sounded more genuine than any of the times she'd said it before. "Put your hands on top of your head and put your legs just a little apart."
This was definitely weird. She moved around me as I stood there. I saw her get out and put on a rubber glove. And put lubricant on it. Then, she got close to me, and with her other hand, massaged my cock. Soon it was hard. "Don't move," she whispered.
Then, letting go, she slipped behind me. I felt her gloved finger at my anus. "Let it in," she said quietly. It took moments, but I finally did my best and she finally worked it in.
She pushed it in. "Don't move," she said. She wriggled her finger. She massaged. I was hard, even harder than before. She giggled just a little. "Just let me," she said. Minutes passed.
"Don't move," she said, when it finally happened.
Afterward, her finger still in me, she said, "OK, I'd really like you to wash the kitchen floor. The whole thing." She withdrew it. "Go ahead," she said.
I wanted to make sure I didn't drip elsewhere. It had been a lot, it had been a long time. I rubbed the tip with my finger, then went to get the mop, bucket, and floor cleaner. When I returned, she stood there, watching. "The whole floor," she said, once I'd begun.
She simply watched. "That was so hot," she finally said. "We should do that once a month or so."
Cyan Stories
Erotic fiction, sex stories, for erotica lovers.