Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 05

Abruptly, he pulls his hand away and Sue falls back into her seat, her legs splayed wide in an obscene invitation. Her body posture just begs a good fucking. If ever there was a "come-on" pose asking to be taken, this is it. She glares at him in her need, frustrated, angry, piqued.

"Let's go," he says simply and stands up, tucking his not-yet-recovered dick back into his pants and zipping up. She scrambles up grabbing the empty soft drink cup and popcorn bucket and follows him down the aisle. They get relatively little notice from the few other theatre goers, apparently the plot line has picked up because those remaining actually seem to be watching at this point.

Back in the more brightly lit lobby, Sue is immediately self-conscious of the movement of her braless tits, sure that the entire theatre going public is staring. Then she catches Jon's eye as he appreciates her and it doesn't matter. Her man is looking lustfully at her; he longs for her; he is proud of her, proud to be seen with her.

He smiles at her as they make their way through the Friday night throng. Something must be playing that is better than the sad waste of cellulous (or bytes of video image or whatever movies are recorded in today) that they just left, given the number of teen girls blatantly flirting with their male counterparts.

"I'm going to stop in the restroom," Sue says.

"Again?" he asks, incredulous. "You just went."

"Yeah, but I need to go again," she whines, dancing from foot to foot. "That Coke was huge." She nods toward the empty drink cup. More like a drink bucket actually. It is condescending and somewhat offensive that she feels like she has to justify herself. But then, again, in her hyper-aroused state, there is something sexy about it.

"If you must," he sighs with exaggerated drama. "But under two conditions. First, you cannot touch yourself or masturbate in any way."

Even though he says this quietly, Sue still blushes and looks around panic-stricken that someone may have heard his comment. She can't believe she is letting him dictate terms under which she can use the bathroom but in her horny state, it is somehow arousing to yield to his control.

"And second," he continues, "you have to take your panties completely off and come back out here and give them to me."

"What?" Sue is doubly scandalized. This is just going too far! But then, she remembers something Lynne told her, that sometimes you just have to let your husband push you into doing things you normally wouldn't do and find out that you really like it. She makes a conscious decision to submit. And then decides to up the ante.

"Okay," she agrees, much to his surprise. "But I have a condition of my own."

"Oh, really?" he smiles back at her, amazed that she has taken on this comfort-zone violating challenge and pleased at her flirty tone.

"Yes. While I'm gone you have to figure out which of these vapid, hormone-crazed, teen bimbos has the best tits."

"Seriously?"

"That's my requirement. You have to look at all these boobs. Like that little babe over there with the pink fishnet over her halter top."

Jon looks quizzically into the eyes of the woman he loves and expresses his doubt. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. It is my request, no, my demand, that you look at every other woman's breasts in this lobby and be able to describe which ones you find the most attractive and why."

"Yes, ma'am!" he responds enthusiastically, ready to take the chance that she really is serious.

She returns a few minutes later, with a conspiratorial blush, embarrassed by the dance and wiggle taking place beneath her blouse as well as the slick glide between her legs. Maybe "going commando" has its advantages after all. She sidles up to him and hands him a wad of balled up cotton. He smiles lasciviously and accepts the gift, raising it to his nose and sniffing, all while watching the blushing acquiescence play across her face.

"I love your smell," he whispers to her, causing her to blush even further.

"You are so gross," she frowns at him, but in truth, his shocking behavior is only inflaming her further. She can again see the predator lurking behind his eyes. He wants her. He wants to take her and possess her and take outrageous liberties with her. And her body sings with inappropriate anticipation of the disgraceful violation of her personal boundaries she hopes he will take.

She is in a very strange place for her - needy, hungry, desperate and loving it. Loving being dependent on him in her need. Loving deferring to him and building him up by conceding herself to him. She is raw and hungry and she is granting him the freedom to taunt her or frustrate her or reject her or take her, purely at his whim. She is relishing her own vulnerability and she is flush with excitement over his power and dominance over her. It reminds her of the early days of their relationship, when he was "older" and more experienced, when she was more naïve and vulnerable to his rejection. They risked so much emotionally finding each other and falling in love.

Although she desperately wants to leave and go someplace private to take care of the needs in her, she is reluctant to give up this magical moment. She is enjoying the tension, the almost physical pain of her unsatisfied arousal. And she loves the wildly inappropriate bolstering of his base, male nature.

"I held up my end of the bargain. How about you? Did you find the best tits in town? And you are not allowed to say mine; that's a cop out."

Jon smiles at her. She knows him so well. "Okay, then, the best tits that are not mine to play with..." She grins back at his characterization, the continuation of their flirtatious game, as she watches him glance around the room. "... is harder than you might think, because nobody is just staying here, the whole crowd is flowing through. I've seen a great pair or two but they aren't here right now."

"That's okay," Sue responds, stepping to his side and slightly behind him. This allows her to hold his arm somewhat possessively (she likes being close to him like this when she is feeling so aroused) and look the same way he is looking while providing some protective shielding so that her braless chest isn't quite so obvious. "What was it you liked about what you saw?"

"Well, some of them are just shaped really nicely. And some have the cutest points..."

"How about the woman over there in the purple?"

"Wow. Um, yeah, wow. Those are big. But... I don't know."

"I thought guys liked big boobs."

"Yeah, but those are just... big. You know, it isn't like they are so big they sag or anything, they are nice and firm, but there is something about them that just looks unnatural. I like something more like those over there in the black."

Sue is surprised and amused to hear Jon try to explain what he likes. Trying not to be too obvious, she glances around Jon's shoulder at the girl he has indicated. Interestingly, he is right. The woman's chest is not outlandishly large like the one she had picked. Oh, they are full and round but not oversized for her frame. Additionally, they do not appear to be boosted by a push-up, nor crammed into a cleavage display or anything so blatant as that. They are good, wholesome, all-American boobs tastefully accentuated by adequate support and a respectable shirt. Through it all though, it works. Sue would have to agree that the breasts on the young woman are, in fact, very attractive.

"Or maybe even the girl over there in the white tank-top. I really like that, too."

Sue is both surprised and not surprised by this choice. The girl in question, probably just eighteen, has obviously dressed for success this evening, if attracting every male eye in the room is the definition of success. She is fairly tall for her age and slim in an apparently healthy way that only teenagers can pull off. Her tits are actually pretty small (this is the surprising part to Sue) maybe a B cup on a good day but they are very perky (the not surprising part). Gravity has not had time to do any work on them apparently because they sit on her chest ridiculously high. And obviously point straight out.

"You're really serious about this business, aren't you?"

"We chauvinistic men take our boob-oogling very seriously," he quietly asserts.

Now, Sue has never really been interested in other women in a sexual way but there is something intriguing about looking at women through her husband's eyes. She finds herself looking at women physically, looking for the things that she thinks he will find attractive, assessing whether the shape or the size or the projection of this girl's chest is more delectable than that woman's. Maybe it is just her current horniness, maybe it is just her desire to please her husband, but she finds it somewhat titillating. She hugs her husband's arm tighter as she glances surreptitiously around the crowded lobby looking for beautiful breasts to admire with her husband.

"Ooh, honey," she snickers, catching sight of a newcomer jiggling her way towards them across the lobby. The redhead is on the prowl, her generous bosom apparently unfettered by any restriction beneath her silky top with its plunging neckline. There is more movement there than in a slo-mo action sequence on a Baywatch rerun. And the silky smoothness of the fabric caressing her sensitive tips must be pretty intense, too, given the state of the all-too-obvious effect on her.

"That looks like a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen."

"Not so sure she'd be too concerned if it did."

"Is this lobby still rated PG-13 or did that change over when the second showings started?"

They snicker and laugh together like newlyweds and try to be somewhat subtle in their survey of the hooterscape but still without missing anything.

Sue finds it remarkably naughty and freeing to be rudely assessing and discussing the characteristics of other women's chests with her husband and strangely arousing. But probably not too surprising, given the state she is already in.

"Oh, baby, I want you so bad; I can't wait anymore. Let's go," she requests.

They hurry their way to the car, laughing and giggling at each other, just being silly. It is glorious and freeing and childish and fun all wrapped into one.

"We can't go home yet; the kids will still be up," Sue frowns as Jon navigates the busy parking lot.

"I know just the place," he smiles mischievously at her, turning onto the street. "Unbutton your pants."

She just looks at him momentarily before shaking her head at his impulsive demands and the arrogance he shows that she will simply do his bidding, just because he tells her to. She complies though, unhooking the button on her Levi's and drawing the zipper down.

"Are you wet?" he asks.

"You crude, revolting man!" she retorts. "Of course I'm drenched and you know it!"

"Get your finger wet and give me a taste."

"Jon!" she is again scandalized by how crude he can be and she glances out the window as the car moves out of the parking lot, onto the service road.

"Nobody can see; don't worry about it," he reassures her.

She surprises herself by doing as he asks, bridging her hips up off the seat to give access, lightly caressing between her sensitive lips to wet her finger and then presenting it to him. He delicately licks her finger.

"Mmm. You are hot," he remarks, savoring the taste like a fine wine.

At a red light, he reaches over and grabs her breast again through the silky smoothness of her blouse.

"Jon!" she admonishes pulling back and glancing out the windows.

"Do I have rights or don't I?"

"You do," she admits, "but here where everyone can see?"

"I want everyone to know what I've got and they don't. I get to play with these fabulous breasts any time I want. You said so."

"Pig," she mutters, knowing she should be scandalized but she can't help being a little turned on. She has always been somewhat proud of her full and firm breasts and his interest in them.

Moments later he pulls in the parking lot beside his office. It is in a good, business neighborhood and reasonably well-lit. Jon stops the car in an isolated corner. "Noticed the other day that the security cams don't really cover this corner of the lot. Turns out to be a fantastically secluded spot to 'park.'"

"I haven't 'parked' with a guy since high school," she snickers. She feels impetuous, sexy and excited.

"Take off your pants and then climb over into the back," he instructs.

She raises an eyebrow, the silent question obvious.

He smiles, wondering truly how much he is going to get away with. He loves pushing her like this when she is horny; she is so much more willing to accept his outrageous suggestions. At least she was back in the day, in the early years of their relationship, when they were young, foolish, hormone-crazed and impetuous. "Because I want you to," he answers the unasked question. "Because I want to watch your naked ass as you climb over the seat."

Well, she has explicitly invited him to express what he wants. And she is so horny she knows she will do anything for him. She wants to fire that passion in him, bring out the predator she saw the other day. She wants him to want her, to hunger after her in the same way that she is hungering after him.

She blushes as she pushes her jeans down her legs. She feels exposed to him, not just because of her nakedness but because of her need. She knows she is conceding not only to his control and direction, but she knows that her heated libido is making her do things that she wouldn't normally. And that he knows it and is using it to manipulate her. It is what Mandy had always warned her about - giving the male the upper hand would lead to her subjugation. But she can't help herself and in this moment, she wants that.

Over the last few weeks, she has grown to like being dominated by her man. It isn't like she is giving control to just any man, but to her man. And she knows him, trusts him, loves him. And she has found that giving up this level of control and trust to him, to submit to his dominance, is to grow close to him, is to be intimate with him, binds her not in subjugation to all men but binds her in love to her man. She gives it to him as a gift and he treats it as precious.

With her jeans out of the way, the scent of her aroused body fills the confines of the car's interior. She knows she is in heat and that he knows it. She has every hope that he will take unfair advantage of her state of arousal.

She agrees with his plan, trying to make love in the front seat of a car with bucket seats, gear shift, steering wheel etc. has always proved too cumbersome (not that sex in the back seat is a piece of cake) but getting out in the cold air and dashing to the back, slamming doors and such has always been a mood breaker. This is right, even as clumsy and awkward as she knows it will be.

She smiles seductively at him as she climbs over and between the seats, fully aware of the show she will give him. She anticipates him taking some outrageous liberty during the process. She stops halfway, with her head on the backseat and her legs still in the front, unsure of exactly how to get all the way back without kicking him in the face.

"Stuck?"

"Well..."

"Or do you just like sticking your naked ass in my face?"

"Actually, I didn't want to kick you. But I'm glad you are enjoying the view."

"Well, thank you. On both counts."

She contorts her way through and draws her legs between the bucket seats and into the back.

"Damn but you are gorgeous. I love seeing your bare butt stick up in the air like that. You have no idea what that does to me, babe."

"I thought sure you were going to spank me." She knows his long-standing fascination with spanking, a little kink they have discussed but was never, ever a real possibility. She would have enlisted Mandy to roast his nuts on the barbeque if he had ever really attempted it.

"Ooo, I sure thought about it... with your head down, ass up just primed for a couple of quick swats..." he grins at her wistfully. He is delighted that he can even approach the subject and he begins to understand just how far she has come that she would even bring it up, even acknowledge it.

"You could have," she whispers in the quiet of the car.

"Really?" he is awestruck. His heart melts at the thought of what she is offering, admitting to.

"I want you so bad," she admits, vulnerable in her weakness. She is near tears at the betrayal of her ideals. But it is true nonetheless. She would have screamed and shrieked and kicked out. But she also knows now that she would have let him. It is a revelation to them both and they both wonder at what it really means. But it sure is going to be a helluva lot of fun finding out!

"I want your cock. I want you to fill me up and take me and ravish me like you did the other night. I want to be 'yours' again. And if that means that my poor little bum has to take a couple of spanks... well, then it will."

With a growl of animalistic passion, Jon scrambles over the back seat with a speed and grace that neither of them believed he possessed. Steering wheel? Shoulder belt? Center arm rest? Somehow none of it is a barrier holding him back from getting to the object of his desire.

In moments he is clutching her naked body to him and pressing his lips to hers in a fashion befitting the backseat-of-the-car-make-out scene. All the unrestrained passion, all the fumbling, desperate clasping and groping of hormone-crazed teens can't compare with the lust and fervor with which they come together. Somehow between the passionate French kisses and the gripping clutching pawing of naked flesh, he is able to get his cock out of the confines of his pants and she finds the evidence of his ardor poised at the entrance to her almost painfully ravenous opening.

A swirl of emotions battle for her attention - the setting sparks a flood of memories from her adolescence; she is delighted that she has been able to kindle the fire in this passionate predator, victorious in his claiming of her; she marvels at how completely turning herself over to him makes her want him so much more; completely letting down her guard and exposing her raw, unfiltered need is counterintuitively empowering; trusting him with her most precious and fragile secrets binds him to her.

"Yes!" she gasps. "I need it so bad. I need you. I need you to fill me so completely I can't think of anything else."

He presses forward and sinks awkwardly into her molten sex. Awkward because of the positioning, her head crammed up against the back passenger door, her leg splayed upward across the back of the seat, one foot in the rear window. In the cramped quarters, they are barely able to reach one another, but they manage. They make up for the difficult positions through sheer desire and zeal.

"Oh, Jon!" she shrieks, so very desperate to feel his throbbing manhood pierce her. It is such ecstasy to feel him merge with her, to feel his obsession, his thirst, his lust.

He thrusts hard against her, straining to press his shaft as deeply into her as he can. In turn, she strains to spread as wide as she can to accommodate him, craving the intimate contact of his pelvis to hers. They end in a contortionist's embrace, each somehow hugging the other's knee or thigh, cleaving to each other as their crotches rut and hump together. Their thrusting pounds their pelvic bones together in bruising, battering slaps.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Sue shouts in rhythm to their plunges, awash in the convulsions gripping her core. She feels as if she may break apart in sheer tension and release but if there were a way for him to pound her harder, she would gladly embrace it.