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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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A Couple That Plays Together Stays Together
by Anonymous (address withheld)

***

Their sex life is almost non-existent, at least he 
thinks so. So she turns up the heat a little. (MF, exh, 
role-play)

***

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 okay, never really 
sizzling, just okay, 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 "Okay, 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 okay. 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 hard-on. 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 hard-on 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.

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 pussy! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! YEHHH!"

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.

END

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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 66