=======
From: sambaz@aol.com (SambaZ)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: RepostByRequest: WifeWatch1: Maura's Discovery
The following story is true.  Some of the names may have been changed to
protect the passionate.  Responses are welcome, either here or by e-mail.
If you respond by e-mail, your reply will be automatically anonymized by

anon.penet.fi.
WifeWatch1: Maura's Discovery

   copyright 1996 by Deadly Nightshade

   "You'll never change," I said.  "You're about as exciting as weak iced
tea!"

   Maura burst into tears and grabbed her pocketbook and dashed off to the
ladies room.  For about the millionth time.  So much for this night.  And
this marriage.  We'd had a decent run as husband and wife.  Most marriages
founder on the same rocks - bad communications, children, outside
interference, money, sex, bad communications, ridiculous expectations about
money or sex, bad communications, ridiculous disagreements about money or
sex, etc.

   Ours had run aground on sex.  In the beginning it had been OK, never
really sizzling, just OK, but over the years it got downright dull.  We got
busy with work and friends and other things and just lost each other.  I
found myself looking at other women and fantasizing, but that's all I did,
because I loved Maura and didn't want to cheat on her, even if the
opportunity arose.  That didn't stop me from thinking about it, and finally
I had to do something.

   It took a long time for me to confront Maura about my unhappiness.  I
told her just how I felt, and suggested that maybe if we made sex into more
of a game, maybe if she would just dress and act a little sexier now and
then, things might improve.  She turned me down cold.

   "I'm not going to dress or act like a slut," she said.  "I'm happy with
our sex life as it is."

   "Well, I'm not," I replied.

   Once the ice was broken, we had this conversation many times.  And the
more she resisted, the harder I pushed.  At first all I'd had in mind was
for her to put on something sexy at home, and maybe, once in a while,
initiate sexual activity.  In the end, I'd gotten lost in a bizarre
wilderness of fantasies that involved her dressing like a slut and going
out and acting like one with other men.  The odd thing about it is that
once in a while she would almost cooperate, especially when we were out of
town.

   She'd put on something almost sexy and we'd go out somewhere and she'd
start to act almost sexy, but every time she'd back out way before the
crucial moment.  And this particular night was no different, except that
we'd already separated and this was supposed to be a sort of last gasp
effort at reconciliation.

   During our separation, neither of us had become swinging singles.  I
can't speak for Maura, but I know that I hadn't because I simply wasn't
interested in other women.  Maura was the only woman I ever wanted.  But it
was her who initiated this "one more try" situation.  We'd had lunch one
day and she was the one who brought up getting back together.

   "That's hopeless," I said.  "You know that I'll never be satisfied until
you do all that stuff.  I'm fucking obsessed with it by now."

   "I know," she said.  "And you know I don't want to do it.  But I miss
you so much.  I think I can do it, if it makes you happy."

   "Oh, baby, how many times have I heard that?" I asked.

   "Let's try one more time," she replied.

   Which is what had brought us on this night to this semi-trashy
nightclub, with Maura dressed in semi-trashy fashion - black high heels,
dark stay-up stockings, tiny white lace thong panties, a tight black
mid-thigh miniskirt, a thin off-white silk blouse and a dark maroon vest
which served to conceal the fact that she was braless beneath the silk
blouse.

   The overall effect was nice, but Maura refused to get up and dance with
me, or anybody else, nor would she remove the vest.  She spent most of her
time tugging at the hem of her skirt, a most familiar activity.  So the
evening quickly degenerated into yet another one of mean talk until I
delivered my last nasty line and she went off to the washroom.  From long
and painful experience I knew what would happen next.  She would have her
cry, fix her face and come back out, ready to go home.  And if I didn't
cooperate, she'd take a cab.  It had happened so many times that I'd lost
track of how many.  So I nursed the tequila, hers and mine, unwilling to
invest more in yet another disaster.  Usually it only took her about
fifteen minutes or so.  But tonight it stretched on to twenty, then thirty
minutes.  I guessed that this really was the last gasp.  And I was down to
licking the last trickles of tequila out of her glass.

   Then she came back out.  Interesting.  She'd taken off the vest.  Her
magnificent breasts jutted out, jiggling under the thin silk as she walked.
I figured this was some kind of "OK, now you've seen them, goodbye!" thing.
As she approached our table, I started to get up.  Might as well get out of
there with as little pain as possible.

   But she gave me a withering look, dropped her pocketbook and the vest on
the table next to ours and kept on going, right over to the bar.  I sat
back down.

   She climbed up on a bar stool and crossed her legs.  I waited for the
obligatory tug at the hem of her skirt, but it didn't come.  The skirt rode
up on her thighs high enough to show the beginning of the darker band at
the top of her stockings.  She leaned toward the bartender and said
something.  Moments later he set another tequila on the bar in front of
her. She'd already had two - well, one and a half - which was pretty much
her limit.

   She had just taken the first sip when a man moved onto the stool next to
her.  She'd left her pocketbook on the table, so I was pretty sure that she
didn't have any money with her.  The man seemed to be paying for her drink.

   She leaned toward him and they talked animatedly.  At one point they
both looked at me.  There was a question in his eyes, but she smiled and
moved her hand dismissively in my direction.  Then he took out a pack of
cigarettes and offered her one.  I knew she would refuse, because smoking
had become one of our secondary wars.  I wanted to quit, but couldn't.  She
had quit, easily, and never let me forget it.  She hadn't touched a
cigarette in at least five years.  But she touched this one, putting it
between her lips and then holding his hand as he lit it for her.  What the
fuck is going on?

   They talked and smoked and drank and then the band started playing its
next set.  A couple of dozen couples got up to dance and then she was
leading him onto the dance floor.  They danced a fast number and she looked
magnificent with her breasts bouncing and her skirt riding up on her
thighs. Toward the end, the beat became a driving, sensual sound and she
moved closer to him, her legs straddling his, her skirt riding higher.

   What the fuck?  I was getting a little pissed.  I considered going over
and breaking in.  But then a slow number started and they danced, but in
the conventional position, his right arm around her waist, her left hand on
his shoulder, their other hands clasped to the side.  Then they went back
to the bar and ordered another drink.  That put her way past her limit, but
she did pull her skirt mostly back down and everything seemed OK.

   Then they got up to dance again.  The first fast number was about like
the second one from before, but the second one had a really frenzied beat.
Several buttons on Maura's blouse seemed to have become undone.  I could
see a lot of her bare breasts jiggling in the opening, and when she leaned
toward him, I'm sure he could see even more.  Then she did a little squat,
which caused her skirt to ride way up on her hips and then she was
straddling one of his legs, obviously rubbing her crotch against it.  When
she turned her back to me, I could see the bottom curves of her bare behind
beneath the hem of her skirt.  Again I had the urge to stop this, but
something was holding me in my seat.

   A slow tune began and this time Maura put her arms around the man's neck
and his hands slid down onto her bottom.  She hadn't bothered to pull her
skirt back down, and as they danced closer and closer to my table, one of
his hands slid beneath the hem of her skirt and began caressing her bare
cheeks.

   Jesus, they're going to get thrown out of here!  I thought.  But looking
around the dimly lit dance floor, I realized that quite a few other couples
were doing the same thing.  Like I said, a semi-trashy joint.  Then she
tilted her face up and kissed him, at first rather chastely, then tongue to
tongue.  His other hand slid up her side, along her rib cage, and onto her
breast.  She leaned back a little, not breaking the kiss, and his hand
covered one breast through the silk blouse and then she pressed her body
against his and I could see the movement as he massaged her and she ground
her crotch against his.  She looked for a moment right into my eyes, broke
the kiss for just a second, and smiled and a wave of jealousy washed over
me.

   Shit!  I've got to stop this now!  But I quickly realized that I
couldn't, because despite the jealousy, I had more than just the beginnings
of a huge hardon.  One side of me wanted to go over and punch out this
brazen stranger and drag my slut wife out of there.  The other, though, was
completely turned on, wanting more.  What the fuck?

   They were very close to me by now.  She reached down and took the hand
that was caressing her behind and pulled it around between them and,
although I couldn't actually see it, I knew that she had pulled it up
between her legs in front and that he was now caressing her pussy.  She
sighed and whispered in his ear and I could easily read her lips.

   "Oh, yes, that feels SO good," she said, humping her pussy against his
hand.  They resumed the kiss, hot and wet with passion.  And then she
turned her hand and obviously began rubbing his hard cock.  I was still
consumed by jealousy, but I had such a hardon that I was afraid I was going
to make a huge mess in my pants.  I actually reached down and squeezed just
below the head of my cock, trying to cut off the inevitable.

   Suddenly, the song ended, and they returned to the bar.  Maura finished
off her drink, then gave him a long wet kiss, running her hands all over
his upper body, finally pulling his hand inside her blouse to caress her
bare breasts.  Then she turned and started toward me.  Her breasts bounced
and her nipples were straining against the thin cloth of her blouse.

   Oh, shit, I thought.  She's going to get her bag and vest and leave with
this fucking stud.  Instead, she picked up her pocketbook and vest and
grabbed my arm.

   "Let's go!" she said.

   She practically dragged me out of the club and into the parking lot.  At
the car I opened her door and stepped back to let her enter.  "No, you get
in!" she said.

   "You've had too much to drink to drive," I replied.

   "The only driving right now is going to be strictly between us," she
said.

   She pushed me into the passenger seat and leaned down and released the
seat back and I fell into the full recline position.  She climbed in on top
of me and began frantically undoing my belt.

   "What the hell..." I began.

   "Shut up!" she said.

   She ripped my hard cock out of my pants and straddled my crotch. 
"Maura..."

   "Fuck me!" she said.

   "Honey, there are people..."

   "I don't care," she hissed.  "Fuck me!"

   I'd never heard her say that word.  She didn't bother undressing.  She
just pulled her skirt up around her waist and slid the crotch of her
panties to one side.  Reflexively, I reached down to caress her pussy.  She
pushed my hand away.

   "Don't bother with that!" she hissed again.  "I'm soaking wet.  Fuck me,
now!"

   She lowered herself onto me and my cock slid into her very wet pussy and
suddenly we were fucking like we never had before, slamming our crotches
against each other.

   "Oh, shit, yeah, fuck me!" she wailed.  "Oh, god, it feels so good! 
Fuck me!"

   She was writhing around all over me and I was pumping away like a piston
gone mad.  Her blouse was gone and she pulled my hands to her breasts.

   "Yes, pull my tits!" she moaned.  "Oh, yeah, fuck me with that hard
cock, Frank!  Fuck me harder!"

   Frank?  Who the fuck is Frank?  Well, who cares at the moment.  She was
hissing and moaning and chanting "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me
harder..." and I was doing the best I could.  We were both bathed in sweat.
And then her whole body began to tremble and she leaned down and pushed her
tongue deep into my mouth and a growl grew up from her chest and the
trembling became something much more than just a tremble and then she was
moaning and growling and coming and suddenly I felt my cock get about five
notches harder than it ever had before and I blew my load into her raging
pussy, one!  two!  three!  Jesus!  I'm not one of those guys who you read
about who spurts a quart of come every time some sexy teenager walks by,
but it felt like at least a pint!  We were both so hot that we fucked right
through both our comings.  Even though my cock was already deflating I just
kept thrusting up at her and she started coming again, literally a
piggyback orgasm, and moaning obscenely into my ear.

   "Yeah, fuck me you bastard, fuck my horny pussy, fuck me, fuck me, fuck
me, yeahhhh..." When her second orgasm was over, she collapsed on top of
me, still trembling and babbling and licking my face, completely out of
control.  I don't know how long we laid there, but it was more than just a
few minutes.  As I calmed down a little, I began to wonder that I'd
survived this.  Men my age have delicate hearts.

   Neither of us remembers the next half hour or so.  We were back home,
well, at her house.  Neither of us said anything.  She took a shower.  I
took a shower.  When I slid into our bed, I guess her bed at that point, I
figured she would be embarrassed.  She wasn't.

   "Did that really happen?" she asked, snuggling up to me.

   "I think so."

   "So it turned you on as much as it did me?" she asked.

   "Yeah, it did."

   "Well, if I'd have known that fucking could be like that," she said. 
"I'd have done whatever you wanted a long time ago."

   "Mmm hmm."

   "Oh, we've wasted so much time," she said.  "Or, actually, I've wasted
so much time."

   "Shh, don't worry about it," I said, putting my finger to her lips. 
"Let's get some rest.  I have a feeling that we're going to need it later."

   "Yeah," she said.

   "Oh, by the way, who's Frank?" I asked.

   "I think you know," she said, giving me a wicked smile.

   She pulled one of my hands down and pressed it between her legs, rubbing
it up and down on her pussy.

   "Oh, yes, that feels SO good," she whispered.

   She giggled.  Then she turned her hand and began caressing my cock.

   "Oh, honey, we're gonna get all sweaty again," I protested.

   "That's the idea.  Fuck me again, Frank!" she whispered, plunging her
wet tongue into my ear.  Oh well, no rest for the wicked.