Message-ID: <18702eli$9901212159@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Michael Carlisle" Subject: New Story: View from Danny's Chair by Mick mfm, wife, cons? Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19981229052233.27339.qmail@hotmail.com> Shy Young Wife: The View from Danny's Chair - Part One (m/f, wife, consensual??) by Mick **************************************************** Author's note: All rights reserved by the author, 1998. Permission is granted for this story to be reposted to alt.sex.stories or alt.sex.stories.moderated or to any other Usenet group, or posted to any noncommercial Web site to which access is unrestricted by passwords, fees, etc., provided it is fully credited to the author ("Mick") and is not altered in any way - in whole or in part - without the author's permission, which is unlikely to be granted in any case. It may not be reproduced for profit or commercial use, or made available to any for whom its possession would be illegal or inappropriate, particularly minors. If you are not 18 or over, well - I encourage your curiosity, but please pursue it elsewhere...this story is for adults only. Thanks. Shy Young Wife: The View from Danny's Chair - Part One (m/f, wife, consensual??) by Mick **************************************************** Author's note: All rights reserved by the author, 1998. Permission is granted for this story to be reposted to alt.sex.stories or alt.sex.stories.moderated or to any other Usenet group, or posted to any noncommercial Web site to which access is unrestricted by passwords, fees, etc., provided it is fully credited to the author ("Mick") and is not altered in any way - in whole or in part - without the author's permission, which is unlikely to be granted in any case. It may not be reproduced for profit or commercial use, or made available to any for whom its possession would be illegal or inappropriate, particularly minors. If you are not 18 or over, well - I encourage your curiosity, but please pursue it elsewhere...this story is for adults only. Thanks. ***************************************************** ....in which I struggle mightily to relate the experience of Pamela's husband, Danny, seeing me seduce his wife in the library of their home. I originally told this "true-but-significantly-altered" story in the first person under the title "Shy Young Wife" - which has appeared at a.s.s.m. and a.s.s. and at one or two web fora. It is available via Deja News, or at the Dark Wanderer in the YW series, where it is #355. Danny watched from a leather armchair nearby as his wife "gave in" to me. This was strictly consensual - although I'm sure there were moments when from his chair, it may have appeared otherwise. I have written this version with very little to go on, other than what I observed, a few things Pamela told me, and a few things Danny himself let slip over the next year or so. We never really discussed his feelings or perceptions, but I have wondered about them, especially in recent years, as I have revisited these events in memory. Undoubtedly, Danny's recollection of events would differ somewhat from my own. He might even recall details that I have forgotten; he might also choose to embellish what I didn't. That's what makes this exercise interesting to me. Maybe one day, I'll try to write it from Pamela's point of view, which is the one that actually interests me most of all. This is dedicated to her. I hope she reads it, and recognizes herself, and is glad. Love, Mick Part I Call me paranoid, or whatever, but my wife's "volunteer work" was really about sex all along, and I knew it from the beginning. She went on about self-actualization and needing to "discover herself" and to do something about society's problems. And I went along, reluctantly - unhappily. I knew this was really all about us. It was about sex. I knew my marriage was in trouble. Problem is, what do you do about it? My brother and my best friend had both warned me. They told me Pamela was a brainy, sexy, spoiled rotten bitch ("just like Gail," my brother warned - a reference to his wife's sister, who had left her husband for a professor soon after she started as a part-time grad student). Lately, they said, she'd been showing all the signs of "turning hippy." What they meant was that she had begun sheepishly defending the antiwar protesters, had expressed curiosity about pot, and had taken to wearing less makeup and letting her hair fall loose and full. Moreover, they said, she seemed to be bored at family gatherings, which my Dad regarded as the very most disturbing sign. Unlike my brother, who had never liked Pamela (although he'd made it clear he found her sexually desireable) Dad had a genuine affection for her, and seemed to think of her as the daughter he never had. She returned his warm feelings, too - even when she started to get strange. Naturally, I told them they were crazy. She had a right to her own opinions, didn't she? (Well? Didn't she?) And, I added, I happened to really like her new look. What's more, I lied, our sex life was better than ever. Why did I say that? It was completely out of character for me to even mention our sex life, for one thing. And for another, our sex life was a source of total confusion to me. My wife had never, to my knowledge, anyway, had an orgasm, and she had steadfastly refused to discuss it, brushing the topic aside on the two occasions when I'd asked her about it. "What difference does it make?" she'd said on our honeymoon. "You were great and I think you're probably the sexiest man alive." And later, once when we were tipsy following a New Year's party, we made love for much longer than usual. Probably due to the alcohol I'd consumed, I'd been able to continue without climaxing for probably twice the time of our usual brief couplings. "Did you...?" I asked as we lay there afterward, the room spinning just slightly. "Did I what?" she answered, her tongue as thick with booze as mine. "You know....did you have an orgasm?" She gave a long sigh...... "How the hell am I supposed to know?" With that she rolled over and almost immediately started snoring softly. So that was that. And lately, things had just gotten stranger. She always - repeat: ALWAYS refused when I made the first move. Always. But occasionally, just lately, she would initiate the first contact and each time, it was something strange. The first time, she came to bed late and snuggled up behind me, her chest against my back. I woke up about halfway and thought little of it. After all, she was wearing the chin-to-floor flannel nighty that usually signaled a chaste bedding. But as I drifted back to sleep, I felt her lips pressed to the back of my neck, and her hand slid down into my pajamas. She is a lot shorter than me, so she had to scoot down for her hand to reach my penis. As she did so, she pressed her cheek against my back. I could feel her heat through the material of my pajama top. I tried to turn to face her, but she held my slack penis and resisted with a murmured "No....." I lay there blinking as she pressed up against me, her hand on my penis for a while. I just listened to our breathing, wondering if she'd gone to sleep. Eventually, her hand began to squeeze and stroke me. Ineptly, at first. Not really sure what to do with a soft penis, I guess. But as I began to swell in her hand, her breathing began to grow rougher, along with mine. And soon she was masturbating me....stroking my cock rhythmically - a slow, maddening slide of her fingertips along the underside of my cock, with her thumb pressed to the upper side. The loose skin slid over my shaft under her fingers and she milked me insistently. Soon I was nearing orgasm, and I was frankly embarrassed. Did she really mean to make me do this? Shouldn't I at least get a tissue or a towel or something? My years of masturbation with a wash cloth and soap came back to me....was she going to make me squirt on the sheets? "Honey, I'm going to...." "Shh!! I'll stop," she whispered harshly, resisting my second attempt to roll over to face her." She squeezed me harder and I felt her taut body straining against me as she held onto my shoulder with her free hand. We were both rocking with her effort. I was both aroused to the point of fever, and deeply humiliated. I came hard. When she felt the first spurt, she loosened her grip, but continued to stroke me even faster. What I would have wanted, I couldn't ask for. I would have wanted her to stop stroking altogether and just hold onto the base of my cock, pulling back as hard as possible, so hard that the skin sheath would distort the shape of my cockhead, and hold me like that, very still. I had done it many times, aroused myself nearly to orgasm, then just pulled back on my cock and held still to wait for the explosion. But this, although physically not what I'd have requested had I been less uptight, was in all other ways an extraordinary sexual experience. Several heavy spurts soaked the sheets on my side of the bed as my wife's hand flew over my cock. I thought I heard her chuckle to herself against my back as I came.....and whisper something. Not sure, I whispered hoarsely "what....?" but she never answered. I tried one more time to turn to her, but she silently resisted. Wouldn't have it. A while later, I felt her climb out of bed. Looking back, I think she probably went somewhere in the house to satisfy herself. Also looking back, I suppose she was thinking of him the whole time. Another time, as she came to bed after a night of her "volunteer work," she turned off the nightlight in the hall that we usually kept on for our daughter. She quietly closed our bedroom door, as I continued to feign sleep. I heard her tiptoe to the windows and carefully, almost silently, pull the shades and curtains shut. She paused by the dresser to turn the alarm clock to the wall, the final source of light in the room. Total darkness. She found her way over to my side of the bed and knelt down. I felt her hand go up under the covers, and directly to the waist of my pajamas. Faintly, I could smell beer and cigarette smoke....she'd gone out for a beer with the other volunteers, as she often did. But had she been smoking? Totally out of character. Her hand found me and I pretended to be coming out of sleep as she began to fondle me, her fingers cool and dry. I reached down to touch her in the dark, but her free hand found mine and she pushed me away silently. Before I was completely hard, she pulled down the sheets and fished my cock out through the fly of my pajamas. I inhaled deeply - smell of her perfume, mixed with the smell of whatever pub she'd gone to actually excited me, and by the time she got me freed, I was hard. Then, to my complete surprise, I felt her lips and tongue on the head of my erection, at first tentative, but almost immediately her tongue began to swirl over my flesh and her full lips opened to take me in. She had occasionally teased my cock with a kiss or a lick when we were dating, but had never actually taken me into her mouth. I'd subtly hinted that I would like more, but nothing doing. But now, my wife was kneeling by our bed in the darkness mouthing me with real urgency and, from the sound of her breathing and her occasional, involuntary sounds, she was hungry for me. When I reached down with both hands to touch her hair, she batted me away, but continued to suck, actually moving her head over me as she took more of my length into her mouth. Never, never, ever had she done this, or anything even close. Each time she plunged downward to take in more of me, she moaned deeply - was it effort, or satisfaction? Inevitably, I began to moan. Usually, I wasn't at all verbal in bed, but THIS - well, I began to babble I suppose. "Oh, Pammy, yesssss......oh, god.....please, yes......oh, god, Pammy....." Almost roughly, her hand flew to my mouth and covered it! I was reduced to stifled moans as her hand left my face. Soon after, and just as I began to feel my orgasm approaching, she pulled away from my cock and there was a pause of what felt like forever, but was probably about thirty seconds, before I heard her make a sound I'd never heard. It was somewhere between a moan and a squeal and her breathing was ragged and loud as she keened from spot on the floor by our bed. "Are you alright? Honey? Sweetie....." As I began to fumble for the bedside light switch, I heard her softly leave the room and close the door behind her. My cock hard and my balls aching, I fantasized going after her, demanding - well - demanding SOMETHING! An explanation? An orgasm? What? I briefly fantasized just going and raping her, but I put the thought out of my mind. Surely she must know what she was doing to me....surely she knew how unfair this was, and how strange it all was to me. End of Part One **** Shy Young Wife: The View from Danny's Chair - Part Two (m/f, wife, consensual??) by Mick Hindsight can be comforting or sickening. As I look back on those days, it is indeed a comfort to be able to make sense of what was going on. At the time, I was mostly just confused and angry. Pamela was struggling with something, though - something she couldn't possibly have explained to me, because she didn't even come close to understanding it herself. Looking back, I now know that she was as tormented in some ways as I was - at least at first. Pamela continued for some months to be completely unpredictable. Distant, quiet, and unaffectionate for days at a time, then all of a sudden, she'd do something so sexually exciting that I couldn't believe it was the same woman. One night when I came home from a poker game, I found my wife in our bed, lying on her tummy, with several quite new copies of a popular sex magazine on the pillow beside her. Only her reading lamp was on, and the soft, long curves of her slender body was the very picture of feminine beauty. She had only her panties on, and she had one hand under her body, obviously hard at work in her panties. In her free hand, she held one of the pocket-sized magazines, with one finger apparently holding her place. I thought she must not have heard me come in, but she almost immediately proved me wrong. With a deep, anguished moan, she let go of the magazine, and pulled her hand free of her panties. She kept her face turned away, gripping a pillow in one hand and reaching back to pull the crotch of her panties aside with the other. There was a light sheen of sweat on her skin, and she seemed to glow in the relatively dim light of the little lamp. "Do me, Danny. Do it to me." It took a moment for me to find my voice. I was feeling mellow from a few beers - for a brief moment I felt vaguely ill, then sort of dizzy. "Pam, I'm sorry, I just..." "Don't talk! Please, Danny....please just do it. Now. Don't talk." By this time, I had already realized that nearly every time she presented one of these "episodes", she asked me to be silent. And I had begun to understand why: my voice would spoil whatever fantasy she was having. Again she said it, still in the harsh, urgent whisper I'd come to associate with these encounters: "Now. Do it or go away." I dropped my jacket, kicked off my shoes and undid my slacks as I approached the bed. I got on my knees between her thighs and began to caress her ass.....god, that ass. Still makes my heart beat faster just thinking about it, and it's been years! I slid my hands up her thighs to the firm, smooth fruit of her ass and began to massage her, but she reached back - still without looking back, her face turned away from me - and pushed my hands away. "No! Just do it, you bastard. Just do it.....please. Oh god, please." I probably knelt there blinking for a few seconds.....hurt, but so aroused I could have passed out. My hands shook and my heart pounded. I looked down and saw her sex open and wet from what she had been doing when I came in.....and then I just plunged my fingers into her, two or three of them, screwing them into her as I pressed down on the small of her back. She made a deep, raspy noise as she pressed a pillow to her face and I felt her sex gripping my fingers. I roughly withdrew them, and her ass rose as if to snatch them back. My cock was in position already, and when her ass rose, I pushed into her. She pressed both hands against the mattress as if to do a push-up, and her upper body began to rise. I astonished myself by roughly pushing her back down with the flat of my hand between her shoulder blades. She gave a little yelp of surprise, and when I took her small hips in my hands and yanked her up to me, she seemed to briefly struggle before beginning to writhe against me. I pressed into her as deep as I could and when I was all the way in, her hands came up and back, and she crossed her wrists over the small of her back. It seems silly, I suppose, but when she did that, I immediately began to come. One of her hands whipped around to her clit and in a matter of seconds, her muscles were gripping me again in what I now know was her orgasm. She fell forward and began to sob. So did I - releasing only a small bit of the tension and confusion of those months. She didn't say a word as we drifted off to sleep. When I awoke a little while later, with my trousers still around my knees, she wasn't in the bed. As usual, she'd gone off somewhere else in the house. I went back to sleep. I believe it was about a week after that night that she came into the library where I was going over the mail and asked softly if we could talk. She dimmed the lights, asking me to sit in my "favorite" chair, a leather wingback. She stood behind me. "Danny, I owe you an explanation. I know I do. I've been a terrible wife to you lately and you deserve some kind of explanation...." I got up to go to her, to hold her, to tell her it was alright, but she turned away. "Danny, I can't do this if you're looking at me - I just can't. Please. Sit down. Let me do this my way." Suddenly I knew what I was about to hear. She was going to leave me. I felt like the whole room was coming down on me. God, I loved her so! This beautiful, warm, sweet, person that I had married - who had chosen me over so many others that had pursued her. I was losing her. This was the night. I sat on the edge of my chair and held my head in my hands, staring down at the carpet as the lump in my throat spread and numbed my body. Anger and grief washed over me and mixed somewhere in my stomach....but I kept control. "I've been changing. You know I have. I ... we ... it's not us. I mean, it isn't you. It's me. It's not something I can really ..." she slammed the back of my chair with her small fist. "Damn! This is so stupid ... how do I ..." She must have heard my heavy breathing ... or maybe I was crying. I really don't know. I was still sitting there with my head down and she came around the chair and stood in front of me and took my head in her hands, pressing my face to her tummy. My arms went around her and held her tight around her hips and again we cried. I still hadn't seen her face since she came into the room. I held her to me tightly and I heard her say: "You just have to be patient with me, Danny. Please. Please, Danny, try and understand. There's something happening that I can't explain - something inside of me. Please give me time, Danny. Please....." Her hands held my head to her tightly, her fingers in my hair and on my neck, my ears. Perversely, I suppose, I became aroused. I began to press my face down into the front of her dress, into her mons. She held my head there for a moment, and then pressed forward as I pressed my face to her. Now, in all our married life, oral sex had been entirely out of the question. I've already described her minimal oral flirtations before we were married. But cunnilingus was particularly taboo. And I must admit that it was as much my problem as hers. The thought of going down on a woman seemed somehow less than masculine to me - sort of demeaning. And actually, I felt the same about her going down on me. I mean, I wanted it, but it seemed wrong to me. And the one time I had playfully moved to kiss her "down there" during our first year of marriage, she was genuinely shocked, crying out my name, and pushing me away. It was, as I recall, the abrupt end of what had been a rather promising foreplay session. But just then, in the half dark of the study, my face hot with tears, I wanted to bury my face - my *self* in her sex. I breathed in sharply, and imagined I could smell her through the material of her panties and skirt. With my hands on her ass, I pressed harder against her, and I felt her press back, a small circular motion of her hips that ground her mons against my nose. "No....no.....," she whispered, and I recognized that it was *that* whisper - the strange, troubled, urgent whisper I had lately come to associate with the strange, intense sex she'd been initiating. "No......please.....," she kept whispering as she pulled her pelvis back and pushed me away, her small hands on my shoulders. Again, I briefly imagined forcing myself on her, making her give herself to me on MY terms, but I didn't. Maybe I should have, I really don't know. After all, in those days, no one had ever even *heard* the phrase "no means no." In fact, it wasn't at all clear that it was even legally *possible* for a man to rape his own wife. But I let her push me back, at least partly because - get this - I wanted to see her face, I wanted to kiss her softly and make her smile as I had done so often over the years, and hold her and tell her everything would be ok. For a moment I imagined that would happen. But she kept her face down and as I lay back in my chair, she knelt down, her loose hair hiding her face. Her hands slid over my thighs as she settled down between my spread knees, and although it had never happened before, I knew what would happen next. Gripping my spread thighs, she pressed her face into the front of my trousers, and her mouth slid over the shape of my stiff penis. I actually tried to gently push her away, but she persisted and began to hurriedly open my pants. Almost painfully, she extracted my cock from my half-opened pants, and immediately took me into her mouth. She began to bob up and down over me in the time-honored fashion, slowing occasionally to take me deep into her throat. I gently stroked her neck and shoulders as she did this, but soon enough, she took my wrists in her hands and pinned them to my thighs, all the while continuing to suck me and to fuck me with her mouth. I could easily have overcome her, but I didn't. And in a few more moments, she firmly put my hands on her own head and *made* me push her head down onto my cock. I started to say something, but again she pressed my hands to the back of her head, and moaned as she slid down over my erection. I began to feel my orgasm building and I tried to squirm away. "Oh, god, baby, I'm almost..... I'm gonna.....Pammy, please, I can't hold it....please, I'm gonna...." Right up to the end, I was trying to pull out of her mouth, but she held me fast. For so long we had colluded in making oral sex taboo - now she was *making* me demean her, use her like some kind of whore. She released my hands and I found myself pushing her down on my own, pushing myself even further into her as I felt my balls tighten. At the last minute, though, I just couldn't do it - I believed so deeply that it was a gesture of disrespect that I finally pulled free, pushing her away from me as I did so. She fell back and caught herself on her hands and I saw her eyes wide and excited as my ejaculate came shooting forth into the space between us arcing up and out onto the carpet, her bare leg and thigh, and even her dress. She just looked up at me from the floor, breathless as I was, not exactly smiling, but with a look of deep, raw excitement on her tear-streaked face. Our eyes met for only a moment before I put my hand over my eyes and when I opened them, she was gone. ******* It went that way for a long while. She refused every sexual overture from me, but every now and then, she'd initiate something - always something that had her in control. Fact is, it was the most sexually intense time I had experienced in my life. She was so exciting, so unbelievably hot. And when she felt safe, when she had in mind exactly what she wanted to do - she was shockingly inventive and hungry - demanding. A few things were always the same. She wanted me quiet. She wanted no eye contact (even blindfolded me once) and no conversation. Usually, she was behind me, or I was behind her. And she never repeated herself. It was always explosive sexually, and totally baffling emotionally. Twice during that time, she came up, as if casually , and hugged me, her face turned to the side and down, and whispered "It's going to be ok.....it's all going to be ok, Danny." Then she'd be gone. Then one night she stopped into the library before going out to her volunteer work. She seemed thoughtful as she entered. She walked slowly around the room making a show of looking up at the shelves. "Help you find something?" "Hmm? No....oh. No, I was just thinking...." Soon she'd come around behind my chair. I was pretty sure she was initiating one of her "episodes" as she slid her hands down over my shoulders to my chest and leaned down to whisper in my ear from behind. Her voice pure warmth, pure love. "Danny, darling, I love you. I love you more than anything...you are so good to me. You've been so patient....so good. Just a little longer, honey. Please. Just a while longer. And whatever happens, baby, I love you. I do." With that, she left, and I watched her ass swing as she made her way out the door and down the hall. It was later than usual when she came home. She wasn't alone. She introduced her "friend" as "Mick." End of Part Two caledonia_99@hotmail.com -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----