In Her Eyes

When Susan brought his name up to me almost a decade later, saying he was one of my employees and a new volunteer for one the charities she was involved with, I didn't recognize his name. Miss Davis had to look him up for me in the company directory. I stopped by his office later that week to say thanks for volunteering his time to the charity and for helping maintain our company's partnership with the community. I still didn't remember who he was.

It wasn't until our company picnic that I remembered. Jason had come over to briefly speak with Susan while we were filling squirt guns for the annual interdepartmental water fight. He basically said hello, made some small talk and left. It was after the water fight was over that he caught my attention. He and another large man (large round, not tall) were talking with one of our first year interns. I didn't remember her name. At first she seemed to be enjoying the casual flirting, but as Jason started moving closer and touching her arms she seemed to be a bit nervous.

I asked Miss Davis who the intern was, and armed with her name I made my way through the crowd to where the trio was standing.

I will say this. Jason Smith was a good looking guy. The rumor was that he had done some fitness modeling to help work his way through college. I didn't doubt that the rumor was true, he definitely looked the part. Stop thinking about me like that, I don't swing that way. Jesus, you're just like my father.

"Hello, Jason. Nice to see you. Who is your friend?" I asked pointing to the man standing next to him.

"Hello, Mr. Stephens. This is my friend Big Mike. I mean Mike Thomas."

"Nice to meet you Mike, I hope you enjoyed the picnic. Say Molly, if now is a good time, we can go speak with my wife about that children's literacy group you were asking me about earlier."

"Now is a perfect time, Mr. Stephens. Lead the way. See you around guys. It was nice meeting you both."

I am pretty sure the dynamic duo was fuming as we walked away, but we didn't stop to check. Once we were out of sight, just on the other side of the carnival tent, I stopped and held out my hand.

"David Stephens, Miss Stuart. It is very nice to meet you."

"Please Mr. Stephens, it's Molly and believe me the pleasure is mine. Thanks for that."

"No problem, Molly. Do you have a way home?"

"Yes, sir, I do. But if it's not too much trouble I think I would like to speak to your wife about that literacy program. I know that volunteering is big on the list of company priorities."

"Well, I am sure she is around here somewhere."

Molly and Susan chatted for the rest of the afternoon while I said my goodbyes. On the drive home, Susan seemed to be a little annoyed.

"Molly is a very nice woman, but a little young for you don't you think?"

"Well, you know me, always looking to keep things fresh." She didn't laugh.

"Anyway I was just getting her out of an uncomfortable situation. Speaking of which, do you work closely with Jason Smith at any of your charities?"

"I run into him from time to time, but we don't really work together that often. Why do you ask?"

"I just get a bad feeling about the guy, Suze. Nothing specific."

"Oh, David, that is a bit too much paranoia don't you think?"

"Probably."

It seemed as though she wanted to say something more. I honestly have no idea what she would have actually said. But I did wonder, looking back, if that was the moment that our marriage was doomed. Did she want to ask me a question? Did she need reassurance? I love my life, but I sometimes wish she would have told me whatever was on her mind. But she let it drop, so I'll never really know.

***

Susan and I had an above average sex life. We made love on our first date for goodness sakes. During the first six months of our courtship we rarely went a single day without giving each other pleasure. We christened every room in her apartment and mine and nearly every piece of furniture we owned. Our coupling was passionate and fun, but I always thought Susan was holding something back. Not that I was concerned. Sex with Susan was always fantastic, but was just this side of calm.

She was noisy but not talkative, creative but not wild, naughty but never dirty. It was more than enough for me but I knew there was more and it was pretty clear so did she.

Our lovemaking on our wedding night was slow and gentle. Champagne while in the bubble bath, rose petals on the bed with long tender kisses, staring at each other as we rocked back and forth together and caressed every part of each other until we climaxed together.

But, it was a new woman that greeted me on the first day of our honeymoon. It was like the ring on her finger released all her inhibitions.

Our early morning flight to Las Vegas was relatively short, but we were still in celebration mode, so we had a few drinks on the plane. Susan was constantly touching me, kissing me, rubbing her body against me. On the plane, waiting for our luggage, in the cab, checking into our room, and especially in the elevator.

And she was constantly whispering things to me.

"I love you so much, David. You make me so horny."

"Are you going to pleasure me, David? Is that what you are thinking about?"

"My pussy is dripping wet, David. I have never wanted anything as much as I want you."

"You can do anything you want, David. I'll never say no to you."

"I am going to fuck you so hard, honey. I need you to pound me, show me that I am yours."

"I am going to be your personal whore, David. I'll be a lady in public. No one will know. But behind closed doors I am going to be a nasty slut. I hope you don't mind."

Our plan was to check into the hotel and hit the pool. A day of nothing more than rest and relaxation. So that is what we did. She came out of the bathroom, ready to hit the pool in her new swim cover and off we went.

Susan was never going to be confused for a runway model but to me she was perfect. She was beautiful but most people described her as cute. Cute hair, cute eyes, cute face. She was much shorter than me, somewhere between 5'5" and 5'7" depending on the height of her heels. In some areas she was almost tiny, especially her hands and feet. They were so small compared to mine. But where it mattered most she was voluptuous. Her 'D' cup breasts looked massive on her small frame. They defied gravity. When she was aroused her nipples hardened to just about the size of the tip of my pinkie finger. And that ass! Wow! Round and tight with dimples on the small of her back. Perfect. She would never have been considered fat and she was very healthy and active, but at the same time she was soft and sensual. Absolutely perfect.

Susan didn't exactly dress conservatively, but she wasn't out to show off her goodies either. I would describe her attire as classy. Form fitting, but never tight. Maybe a hint of cleavage for a night on the town. Just enough to leave no doubt that she was all woman.

The Susan that I escorted the pool was ready to give me my own private show, so what if the other hotel guests were around to see. She stood right in front of my lounger when she peeled off her swim cover to reveal one of the tiniest white bikinis I had ever seen. Her top wasn't a string bikini and she wasn't wearing a thong, but there wasn't much difference. And with the gold rings stretching to hold the fabric on her hips and baring her ample cleavage....well she looked...just hot. Very hot. With her gold choker necklace, gold hoop earrings and round tortoise shell sun glasses and pink pouty lips glistening with a shimmering gloss she may not have been ready for the runway, but she would have fit perfectly in the pages of Playboy.

She looked right at me the entire time she was smoothing sun tan lotion all over her body. She had clearly been secretly working on her tan before we had arrived. She would turn directly to me and run her hand around her neck then lightly trace the line of her cleavage with her fingers. When no one was close, she would open her legs to show me that her outfit was barely keeping the lips of her pussy contained.

Her new bikini must have been uncomfortable, because it seemed to be in constant need of adjustment. Gently pulling the fabric away from her body, showing just a little extra skin and then replacing in just the right position. It must have really been bothering her that one time, when she pulled her bikini bottoms into her crotch with both hands while straddling the end of my lounger. I knew because her eyelids were fluttering. And then there was her need to turn her back to me and re-adjust her bottoms so that they wouldn't ride up the crack of her ass. A single finger pulling the offending garment back into place was all it took. My personal favorite was the particular challenging adjustment that required her to lean over her chaise ever so slightly holding the top of her chair with one hand while turning her face to me over her shoulder with her teeth gently biting her bottom lip. That one took a long time.

We weren't trying to get sloppy drunk, but we were sipping cold drinks the entire day. And the whispering. Susan didn't let up the entire day.

"Is that hard cock for me, sweetheart? Are you going to let me play with him?"

"I love your big, hard dick, David. It stretches me in all the right places."

"I don't think I'll look for a job in Chicago, David. I think I'll just be your full-time sex slave. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"Honey, are you planning on shoving your cock down my throat when you fuck my face? I just want to know what I should be ready for."

After an afternoon of swimming, sunning and drinking we wandered back up to our suite, and Susan told me to hop into the shower. After I rinsed myself off and re-dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, I wandered out of the bedroom, where I found Susan waiting for me with a cold beer and the remote.

"Sit down and relax, honey. I am going to take a quick shower myself. Pick out a movie and when it's over, come join me in the bedroom."

With a quick peck on the check she was off, leaving me alone with the hotel's adult movie PPV menu on the giant flat screen. Porn. This was new. I didn't think it was a coincidence that "Slutty Nurses #7"was the current selection, so that is the one I chose. After 55 minutes of cinematic genius I made my way to the bedroom. Again Susan was waiting for me, this time in a black cup-less corset, black thigh high stockings and black high heels.

"It is time for you to use me, David. I am here as your own personal porn star. You should use me any way you want, for as long as you want. There is only one requirement. Before you are finished using me, you have to take this bottle, lube up your cock and fuck my ass. It has never been used before, David. Well except for my fingers and the dildo I have been using to prepare myself for your massive tool. But it is yours, and before we finish, I need you to fuck the shit out of my ass, claim that virgin territory, and let me know I am yours, forever."

Our week in Las Vegas quickly fell into a routine. Gentle lovemaking first thing in the morning, a long afternoon of playful teasing, and wild uninhibited sex every night. Well except for the last day of our trip when we chose to live as nudists for 24 hours until it was time to take the cab to the airport.

We continued our routine at home for several months. Gentle and slow, before heading to the office. Fast and hard before bed each night. We even kept up our nudist tradition on weekends every once in awhile.

Outside the bedroom, my Susan was the same loving, caring, considerate friendly person that she was before we married. But in the bedroom, or any other time we were alone, she was a wild women. When we talked about the change, she said I had earned her complete trust and, as her husband, I was entitled to everything she had to offer both inside and outside the bedroom. It made a lot of sense.

My favorite couplings were the times when it seemed we just couldn't get enough of each other. Looking into each other's eyes, passion blocking out everyone and everything but us and our time together. Just Susan and I together. Nothing else mattered. Those were special times.

My wife's teasing ways continued. In public, she was always finding opportunities to flash me her goods. At home, she just let it all hang out, rubbing her body against me as if the only path across a wide open room was right next to me. Blatantly dropping whatever she was holding so she could bend over, legs straight and wiggle her ass in my face. She said she loved to get me so worked up that I couldn't control my lust. I frequently just stopped what I was doing, bent her over wherever she stood and fucked the shit out of her. She said her favorite time was when, after she had slowly brought my passion to boil over a long day of yard work, I picked her up and ripped her panties off. She was holding on for life with her arms and legs as I basically dropped the full weight her body onto my cock until she came. Then I finished by backing her into the wall of the house and pounded her pussy until my orgasm overtook my senses. By the time we were done, she said she felt like her pussy was leaking like a sieve.

Everything else was great fun, too. As the years went on, we became more and more comfortable about sharing our fantasies. Really sharing, we would talk about them. Why they turned us on, where our thoughts had originated, the little details that would make them seem real. This was the one area where Susan made the ironclad rule. We could act out any role we wanted, Susan the high priced call girl or David the delivery boy, but we would never pretend to be someone else and never ever pretend to be another real person. That was fine with me. Susan was always my fantasy girl.

And so every couple of months, one of our fantasies would come to life. Susan's fantasies seemed to focus on her as the seductress: her teaching a young inexperienced man how to make love to a woman, seducing the married business man at a hotel without exchanging names, the naughty school girl fucking her professor for a better grade. Mine were all over the map: being Susan's sex slave for the day, Susan as a French maid, Susan the slutty babysitter, Susan the harsh schoolteacher.

Overall, a thorough exploration of all our fantasies led us to a mildly surprising conclusion: I was somewhat dominate, and Susan was a little submissive. Nothing over the top. Every once in a while Susan would let her submissive side come out and play. To an outsider it would have seemed that I was the overbearing master and Susan was submitting to my wrath. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Susan was always in charge of our bondage play.

"I am sorry, master. I know you have to tie me to the bed for misbehaving. I'll accept my punishment."

"I shouldn't have cried last time when you clamped my nipples, master. Please let me try again."

"I know that I shouldn't have cum without permission, sir. Please spank me so that I remember the rules. The paddle is so painful, though, please cuff my hands so that I can accept my punishment properly."

Overall, it is safe to say that there is no sexual experiment that Susan and I didn't try. If we both liked it we added to our permanent rotation of sexual activity, if we didn't we talked about the reasons why and sent it packing to the box of past sexual memories. It may have been extreme for some couples but to us it felt like a natural extension of our trust in one another.

***

Amanda Skinner was an interesting woman. She looked like she would have been right at home somewhere in the woods, crouching quietly for days hoping to catch a glimpse of the mating habits of squirrels. But she had a Ph.D. in psychology and was a certified family therapist with 20 years experience. According to Maggie she was the best.

As much as I appreciated Maggie's legal maneuvering, I also so knew she really wanted the counseling to work. She wanted me to be together with Susan. I didn't understand her thinking, mostly because we had never spoken about it, but I knew it was true.

After the formal introductions, Mandy, the name she insisted that we use, took her place in an armchair directly across from the coffee table and opposite the large comfortable couch Susan and I were sitting on. It had a very homey feel, almost like coffee at a friend's house. Not like a counseling session at all.

"OK, let's get started by measuring the differences in our expectations. What do you hope to gain from our time together? Susan, you first."

"Well, I want to be able to come back to my husband. I want him to find it in his heart to forgive me and let me come home. And I want him to stop the divorce."

"Very good, Susan. David?"

"I want Susan to feel like she has been given every opportunity to change my mind so that she doesn't feel like she left anything in the locker room. I want her to come to a place where she can accept what is going to happen. And I want to move on with my life."

"Interesting choices, David. OK, what do each of you see as the biggest problem in your marriage? Susan?"

"I had sex with another man. I cheated on David. It's all my fault."

Susan sounded as if she was about to cry, but for some reason that didn't bother me.

"OK. David?"

"Honesty."

"OK. Thank you. I see no reason why we shouldn't see how much progress we can make meeting together. It may be necessary to meet with you individually at some point, but I think that joint sessions will work just fine for now. Can we meet each week at this time?"

"This time works well for me, Mandy," Susan stated.

"Whatever you say, Doc."

I had already made my assessment of Dr. Skinner. She wasn't really going to listen to me. She was paying close attention to Susan but it appeared she already knew everything she needed to know about me. Since my presence was not necessary I felt like forcing pleasantries for a voluntary counseling session was asking too much.

"I prefer, Mandy, or Dr. Skinner if you must, David."

"Sure thing, Doc. See you next week."

With that I was out the door.

To my face, everyone kept telling me that I was handling things so well. Behind my back, they were saying that I was moving on so quickly that I must be getting a little action on the side. In reality, no matter how much you try you can't control the rumor mill.

But like so many nights recently, I was heading home to cry. I knew it and there is really no embarrassment in sharing it with you. Being in the same room with Susan was very difficult, mostly because I wanted to hug her and take her home with me. A little bit because I wanted to kill her and hide the body.

***

I may have gone insane if I didn't have the kids.

They were very upset, but comforting them allowed me to remember the good things about Susan.

"Why can't mom come home, Daddy?"

"She loves you so much, Daddy. She is always crying."

Ever heard the phrase wrapped around her little finger? Well make it two little fingers in my case. Fingers attached to my beautiful twin daughters. Twins who had a striking resemblance to the woman who owned me heart

"What did she do, pop?"

And there you have it. My boy. Straight to the point. Well, he is his father's son.

"That, young man, is something that will remain between your mother and I."

"It had to be something bad, pop. Luke Finch said his father told him that his mom was a crazy b-i-t-c-h when she moved out of his house."

"We know how to spell bitch, Mikey!! We are not stupid." I heard in stereo. It always amazed me how much in sync they were.

"That is enough with the language, guys. Michael, if you ever hear a harsh word about your mother from someone, I can promise you it won't be from me. And they better not say it if I am within listening distance."