don_jetman
Moderator
A little piece of our history, along with some good luck...
Lunch and Dessert
by Don Jetman
In a somewhat surprising turn of events, L called me at work to see if I wanted
to have lunch together. After relocating, our life had been upside-down
with the annoying distractions of moving and the stress of new jobs. Hotwifing
had been put on the back burner for some months, although we enjoyed a long
stretch of fantasy mileage from our summer vacation and Dave's last party.
I could see by the look on her face that she was up to something.
As she looked over her menu, she told me, "There's this guy at work with this
great body..."
I looked up and started to grin. L kept her nose buried in her menu.
"And, you think he might be interested?"
"Oh, he's interested...," she assured me, still looking down at the lunch
choices. She was teasing me, making me wait, making me guess, and ultimately,
making me beg for details. I decided to try to out-wait her, to compete in her
own game. Before hotwifing, her teasing used to infuriate me, but now it's
become a mix of frustration and excitement. Still, she knows it always gets to
me, and she delights in watching me squirm, especially these days when she knows
I'll tolerate the squirming much longer if the carrot she leads me with is sex.
But dammit, she was quiet for so long...
The waiter came, took our order, and the large menus. Hah! Now she can't hide
behind it - she'll have to spill the beans. But, she didn't. She sat back in her
chair and smiled briefly at me as she sipped her iced tea. Finally, I gave in.
"So, this guy?" I asked her, leaning over the table toward her.
"Guy?" she asked, so innocent, so proper in her crisp white blouse and dark
business suit. Ohhh, she was going to play this for all it was worth and more.
OK, I'll play her game, her way. I give up.
"The guy - with the great body?" I was begging now, and she loved it.
"Oh, that guy," she said, grinning back at me across the table. This was getting
a little tedious. It was a delicate subject for such a public place. I leaned
forward again and whispered.
"Do you want him?"
Finally, she leaned forward as well, still grinning, whispering.
"Oh Sweetheart, are you asking me to have sex with him?" Her eyes were as big as
the saucers on the table. She was mocking me, feigning surprise and delight at
what she pretended to be a shocking proposal. When had she become so good at
this?
"OK - yes!" I told her, still trying not be heard at the next table.
"I already have. Twice. See how hard I try to make you happy?"
Her little smile was so smug as she picked at her food, knowing that there was
little I could say out loud in the restaurant. She was killing me, a second at a
time, seconds so long that I gulped my food so we could get out of there. L
continued to pick at hers, then ordered dessert. Cheesecake. How damned long
could it take for her to eat a tiny wedge of cheesecake? Long enough. Forever.
Fuck!
It's times like this that I struggle with feelings of anger and frustration. I
know she's playing a game, and I know what the game is, and usually I don't mind
forfeiting to L at all. But when she intentionally draws the teasing out to what
seems like an eternity, and she knows I can't do a thing but squirm and sweat,
my instinct is to take control, not give in. And it's especially strong when sex
is involved. I suspect the conflict is tied to the angst I sometimes feel when
I'm forced into an uncomfortably subordinate role in our hotwifing pursuits.
Relinquishing control is exhilarating to a point, but beyond that point the need
for sexual gratification along with an intact ego forces a conflict that is very
much like the angst I feel when L has an unusually powerful attraction to
another man, pursues him on her own, and fucks him in my absence. Yes, it's hot,
and forbidden - all the things that make hotwifing exciting - but the damned,
helpless waiting, the postponement of my gratification until hers has simmered,
boiled over, and chilled again, is excruciating for me. I'm really not sure if
it's getting worse, or that I'm just starting to recognize and understand it
more lately, but it can be overwhelmingly frustrating at times. Then, I look
back at how I felt, and cringe at the picture of a spoiled child stomping his
feet and demanding a second piece of candy. I dunno - it's just how it happens
lately. But goddammit, during our lunch I wanted that piece of candy more than
anything!
As she ate the cheesecake a nibble at a time, I finally asked her, again in an
exasperated whisper, "So, is that all you're going to tell me about him?"
"Mmmmm," she said, sucking the last few crumbs from her fork, savoring them,
then swallowing. "Delicious!" Than, after a pregnant pause, smiling at me, "The
cheesecake, Sweetheart. Or did you think I meant something else?"
She was dead serious - not a hint of the teasing grin I knew so well. I looked
to either side of us - the tables were much too close for me to push the issue.
She had me again. When the waiter brought the bill, I went for my wallet, but L
already had her credit card out, impatiently eyeing her watch. "I'll get it,"
she told me, now grinning ear to ear. "I think you've paid enough today." No one
around us knew what that meant, but I did. Was she even telling me the truth
about her mystery guy? Was she making him up?
Outside the restaurant, she kissed me on the cheek, and simply said, "Love you -
see you tonight." I watched her walk to her car, no longer the girl I married,
now a woman who had learned to play me like violin, but maybe just a little too
well. I stood there as she disappeared into the early afternoon crowd, crazy
with questions I wasn't able to ask - when was she with him, where, how good was
he, and did she want him again? I asked those questions, to myself, during my
drive back to work, and every minute of the afternoon. Then, she called.
"Don, we don't have any plans for tonight, do we?"
"Um, no. Why?"
"I, um, think I have a date - if you're OK with it."
"You think you have a date? Aren't you sure?" Now it was my turn to tease.
"It's - um - well, I wanted to let you know, I mean, to make sure it's OK."
Here was the woman who enjoyed torturing me through lunch, the femme-fatale who
played such a calculated game of cat-and-mouse in a public place, now so
tentative and cautious within just a few hours. From siren to innocent wife -
the enigma that is L.
"Could this be the guy with the great body? The one you seem to confuse with
cheesecake?" It was fun to make her squirm for a change, to make innocent wifey
blush as she asked to go on her "date".
"James. His name is James. So, it's OK?"
"Sure, it's OK. But from what you told me, isn't it a little late to be asking
my permission?"
There was an uncomfortable pause - uncomfortable on her part, satisfying and
filled with potential on mine.
"Oh," she answered soberly. "I - I thought you might like that. Are you upset?"
"Not at all," I told her. "It's just that it's not like you to not tell me. You
were really with him twice?"
"That's what I thought you might like - something new. Was I wrong?"
"Absolutely not," I assured her. "You just surprised me. I didn't suspect a
thing."
Silence. Was she still shy about this kind of thing? How sweet. "How long has
this been going on?" Again, a little zinger to make her blush - words of a
"suspicious" mate.
"Not long," she said. "Only a couple of days - well, this week, I guess. We can
talk tonight. I need to leave early this afternoon, so I have to get some work
done."
"Leaving early to get ready for your date?" I teased.
"Shopping," she told me. "I need a new dress."
Of course," I told her, teasing again. "Wouldn't want to make a bad impression
on your first date, would you?"
She laughed. "It'll give you something to think about until then. See you
tonight. Love you."
Lunch and Dessert
by Don Jetman
In a somewhat surprising turn of events, L called me at work to see if I wanted
to have lunch together. After relocating, our life had been upside-down
with the annoying distractions of moving and the stress of new jobs. Hotwifing
had been put on the back burner for some months, although we enjoyed a long
stretch of fantasy mileage from our summer vacation and Dave's last party.
I could see by the look on her face that she was up to something.
As she looked over her menu, she told me, "There's this guy at work with this
great body..."
I looked up and started to grin. L kept her nose buried in her menu.
"And, you think he might be interested?"
"Oh, he's interested...," she assured me, still looking down at the lunch
choices. She was teasing me, making me wait, making me guess, and ultimately,
making me beg for details. I decided to try to out-wait her, to compete in her
own game. Before hotwifing, her teasing used to infuriate me, but now it's
become a mix of frustration and excitement. Still, she knows it always gets to
me, and she delights in watching me squirm, especially these days when she knows
I'll tolerate the squirming much longer if the carrot she leads me with is sex.
But dammit, she was quiet for so long...
The waiter came, took our order, and the large menus. Hah! Now she can't hide
behind it - she'll have to spill the beans. But, she didn't. She sat back in her
chair and smiled briefly at me as she sipped her iced tea. Finally, I gave in.
"So, this guy?" I asked her, leaning over the table toward her.
"Guy?" she asked, so innocent, so proper in her crisp white blouse and dark
business suit. Ohhh, she was going to play this for all it was worth and more.
OK, I'll play her game, her way. I give up.
"The guy - with the great body?" I was begging now, and she loved it.
"Oh, that guy," she said, grinning back at me across the table. This was getting
a little tedious. It was a delicate subject for such a public place. I leaned
forward again and whispered.
"Do you want him?"
Finally, she leaned forward as well, still grinning, whispering.
"Oh Sweetheart, are you asking me to have sex with him?" Her eyes were as big as
the saucers on the table. She was mocking me, feigning surprise and delight at
what she pretended to be a shocking proposal. When had she become so good at
this?
"OK - yes!" I told her, still trying not be heard at the next table.
"I already have. Twice. See how hard I try to make you happy?"
Her little smile was so smug as she picked at her food, knowing that there was
little I could say out loud in the restaurant. She was killing me, a second at a
time, seconds so long that I gulped my food so we could get out of there. L
continued to pick at hers, then ordered dessert. Cheesecake. How damned long
could it take for her to eat a tiny wedge of cheesecake? Long enough. Forever.
Fuck!
It's times like this that I struggle with feelings of anger and frustration. I
know she's playing a game, and I know what the game is, and usually I don't mind
forfeiting to L at all. But when she intentionally draws the teasing out to what
seems like an eternity, and she knows I can't do a thing but squirm and sweat,
my instinct is to take control, not give in. And it's especially strong when sex
is involved. I suspect the conflict is tied to the angst I sometimes feel when
I'm forced into an uncomfortably subordinate role in our hotwifing pursuits.
Relinquishing control is exhilarating to a point, but beyond that point the need
for sexual gratification along with an intact ego forces a conflict that is very
much like the angst I feel when L has an unusually powerful attraction to
another man, pursues him on her own, and fucks him in my absence. Yes, it's hot,
and forbidden - all the things that make hotwifing exciting - but the damned,
helpless waiting, the postponement of my gratification until hers has simmered,
boiled over, and chilled again, is excruciating for me. I'm really not sure if
it's getting worse, or that I'm just starting to recognize and understand it
more lately, but it can be overwhelmingly frustrating at times. Then, I look
back at how I felt, and cringe at the picture of a spoiled child stomping his
feet and demanding a second piece of candy. I dunno - it's just how it happens
lately. But goddammit, during our lunch I wanted that piece of candy more than
anything!
As she ate the cheesecake a nibble at a time, I finally asked her, again in an
exasperated whisper, "So, is that all you're going to tell me about him?"
"Mmmmm," she said, sucking the last few crumbs from her fork, savoring them,
then swallowing. "Delicious!" Than, after a pregnant pause, smiling at me, "The
cheesecake, Sweetheart. Or did you think I meant something else?"
She was dead serious - not a hint of the teasing grin I knew so well. I looked
to either side of us - the tables were much too close for me to push the issue.
She had me again. When the waiter brought the bill, I went for my wallet, but L
already had her credit card out, impatiently eyeing her watch. "I'll get it,"
she told me, now grinning ear to ear. "I think you've paid enough today." No one
around us knew what that meant, but I did. Was she even telling me the truth
about her mystery guy? Was she making him up?
Outside the restaurant, she kissed me on the cheek, and simply said, "Love you -
see you tonight." I watched her walk to her car, no longer the girl I married,
now a woman who had learned to play me like violin, but maybe just a little too
well. I stood there as she disappeared into the early afternoon crowd, crazy
with questions I wasn't able to ask - when was she with him, where, how good was
he, and did she want him again? I asked those questions, to myself, during my
drive back to work, and every minute of the afternoon. Then, she called.
"Don, we don't have any plans for tonight, do we?"
"Um, no. Why?"
"I, um, think I have a date - if you're OK with it."
"You think you have a date? Aren't you sure?" Now it was my turn to tease.
"It's - um - well, I wanted to let you know, I mean, to make sure it's OK."
Here was the woman who enjoyed torturing me through lunch, the femme-fatale who
played such a calculated game of cat-and-mouse in a public place, now so
tentative and cautious within just a few hours. From siren to innocent wife -
the enigma that is L.
"Could this be the guy with the great body? The one you seem to confuse with
cheesecake?" It was fun to make her squirm for a change, to make innocent wifey
blush as she asked to go on her "date".
"James. His name is James. So, it's OK?"
"Sure, it's OK. But from what you told me, isn't it a little late to be asking
my permission?"
There was an uncomfortable pause - uncomfortable on her part, satisfying and
filled with potential on mine.
"Oh," she answered soberly. "I - I thought you might like that. Are you upset?"
"Not at all," I told her. "It's just that it's not like you to not tell me. You
were really with him twice?"
"That's what I thought you might like - something new. Was I wrong?"
"Absolutely not," I assured her. "You just surprised me. I didn't suspect a
thing."
Silence. Was she still shy about this kind of thing? How sweet. "How long has
this been going on?" Again, a little zinger to make her blush - words of a
"suspicious" mate.
"Not long," she said. "Only a couple of days - well, this week, I guess. We can
talk tonight. I need to leave early this afternoon, so I have to get some work
done."
"Leaving early to get ready for your date?" I teased.
"Shopping," she told me. "I need a new dress."
Of course," I told her, teasing again. "Wouldn't want to make a bad impression
on your first date, would you?"
She laughed. "It'll give you something to think about until then. See you
tonight. Love you."