CuckQuean - Anita, the Insufficient

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He loves her, but needs more than she can provide.
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QueanLeah
QueanLeah
291 Followers

This is my fantasy. Some of you probably won't like it. I don't care much. If you do have fantasies like mine, I hope you enjoy this one. Thanks to my editor and muse, who was relentless in his attacks on my earliest efforts. I take back some of those nasty names.

-,-'-{{@

I watched my David remove his jacket at the door, hanging it neatly on a hangar. He turned his briefcase on its side, and placed it on the small table in the entryway, centered. Only then did he look up, his eyes scanning the entrance. They landed on me, sitting in the living room, and lit up.

"How's the love of my life?" he asked, and I felt the small chill I always got when he said that. Still. After seven years.

"Missing her handsome man," I responded, standing, waiting for my hug. Itching for that feeling I get when his arms embraced me, surrounding me completely, pressing my body to his. Smelling him, that incredible scent. The only man I knew that didn't wear aftershave or antiperspirant. That would be a shame, hiding his essence. So much better that he kept himself clean, even using unscented soap, covering up nothing.

His long confident stride brought him to me in only a few paces, and I opened my arms to him, wrapping them around his hard body, inhaling deeply. I felt a tingle down below. You know the one, that little itch, that said for tonight, I was his for the asking. He was going to get lucky.

I felt the soft tug at the nape of my neck, tilting my head back so he could kiss me. His warm lips descending on mine. His breath minty fresh. I had learned that secret years ago. In an instant, I was reliving that day, all my senses combining to overwhelm me.

- ( . Y . ) -

I'd seen him looking in his car mirror adjusting his hair, and popping the tiny mints into his mouth, before entering the house. For a moment a spike of jealousy had hit me, then the total devastation that came with knowing I wasn't enough for him. He'd found me crying in the study.

"Who is she?" I'd sobbed, all those years ago.

"Who is who, Anita? What's wrong?"

I should have looked at him, seen the concern in his eyes, listened to his voice. It was all there to see. He was mine, totally, without limit or reservation. He had never given me any reason to believe otherwise. Still, I'd cried.

"I SAW you!" I shrieked. "Fixing your hair, wiping your face, taking a mint to hide the evidence. Who is she?"

Some men might have laughed at me. Others would have been pissed off. Not my David. He lifted me easily in his powerful arms, and held me in his lap. "Her name is Anita. I've loved her all my adult life. I never want to come home to her with onions on my breath from lunch. I want to look my best for her, so I always check myself in the mirror before entering our home. Her name is Anita. She's the only woman in my life, now and forever."

I knew it was true. I felt shame for doubting him. I clung to his neck as he carried me up the stairs, my face buried in his chest. I was still crying, unable to stop. I don't know why. It was idiotic.

No that's a lie. I did know why I felt that jealousy, and it was no fault of my husband's. David is an Adonis. Six feet three inches tall, one hundred ninety-eight pounds. Never under one ninety-five, never over two hundred. His 'V' shaped torso, broad shoulders, and powerful arms broadcast his manliness. His movie star good looks were head-turning. He was not a pretty boy, not by any means. He was dark, brooding, with deep set eyes, and brown wavy hair he struggled to keep tame. Sharp features, chiseled. More Sean Connery than Brad Pitt.

His presence was commanding, his confidence overwhelming. When he walked into a room, heads turned. Women sighed, their eyes following his trail. They would flock to him, insipid little things, reaching out to touch him, his arms, shoulders, playing with their hair, laughing at his jokes, hanging on his every word. All for nothing, because he was mine. And everybody knew it.

That day he'd taken me to our bedroom, wiped my tears away with his kisses, undressed my body, slowly, teasingly, worshiping me. He'd taken me as only he can, playing me like a maestro, making me cry for him, tremble, scream, moan, and ultimately come for him, over and over. He pumped his creamy essence into me four times that night, letting his passion and love reassure me.

I had lain there, exhausted, helpless, while he wiped me down with a warm washcloth, before pulling me into his arms. "Never doubt my love for you, Anita. YOU are my one true love. Nothing I've ever felt comes close. I never want you to feel jealous. No matter how many women I meet, how many throw themselves at me, there's only one true love for me, now and forever. You have to believe that. You have to, Anita. I couldn't take it if you doubted me. Not you."

I felt a trembling in his body, and my heart shattered into a million pieces. My idiocy, my unfounded jealousy, the way I jumped to the most asinine conclusion had wounded my man. My man!

"No David, I don't doubt you. I'm sorry I behaved as I did. I was watching a stupid movie, and I think I let it get to me. There are so many failed marriages all around us. The Beales down the street, they're separating. The Wardens are fighting again over weekend custody. Dan Vargas is cheating with his secretary. I know it's silly, but I get nervous sometimes, without cause. You are the perfect husband, and I know it. You deserve better than me, and better than my behavior. I'm sorry."

His large hands stroked my skin, and I cuddled into him. His lips traversing my flesh, he whispered his love for me, his innocent touches suddenly less innocent. I reached down and felt his over-sized hardness, large, like everything about him. I moaned as he slid inside me, stretching me. He was like this sometimes, insatiable. I knew I'd be sore for days, unavailable to him for most of the week until I recovered. It was worth it. Always.

That night he calmed my fears, and I hadn't had an outburst like that in years. I trusted him utterly, completely. He'd never given me any reason not to.

- ( . Y . ) -

Now I was in his arms again, my senses overwhelmed. I'm sure I whimpered when he released me. He would change now. That was what he did. He'd carry his jacket upstairs. Turn on the shower. Hang up his suit pants on the press. Remove his tie, and place it back on the tie-rack, in the single vacant opening. Remove his dress shirt, folding it once in each direction before placing it in the dry-cleaning container. Peel off his V-neck undershirt, step out of his silk boxers. Deposit those in the laundry basket, before stepping under the shower-head for a quick rinse. He wouldn't shampoo his hair, all he did was wash away the grime of the day, a couple of minutes at most, before stepping out of the glass booth, refreshed and perfect.

I watched him as I often did, getting his towel for him and placing it at the ready, picking out a pair of jeans to wear, and a casual shirt. Placing his shoes on the shoe rack.

He'd often talk of his day, new accounts, upcoming events, meetings, travel. Too much travel for my taste. I hated every minute he was away, but it was rarely more than two or three nights, every couple of weeks. Mostly to boring places that had me feeling pity for him. I'm sure the places aren't really boring but they held no allure for me. Cleveland, Cincinnati, Baltimore, St. Louis, Charleston, San Antonio, Albany, Pittsburgh, Denver, Sacramento, Phoenix, the list was endless.

Seeing his body, I felt that itch again. I opened my chest of drawers, pulling out my naughty shorts. Tight, too tight, displaying every curve that otherwise stayed hidden. I peeled off my shirt and bra, searching in the drawer until I found what I wanted. I pulled it over my body, adjusting my breasts, pushing up and in, making sure my cleavage was displayed for him. I pulled the clip out of my hair, shaking my hair out, letting it hang free, nearly shoulder length now. I responded to his comments with non-committal little phrases, only half-aware of what he was saying.

David stepped out of the shower, and my eyes traversed his hard body. He was drying his

hair with the towel, his words muffled. He shook his hair free, his wild curls bouncing. He looked up at me, perched on the side of our bed, and he smiled. My heart beat faster as I saw his instant reaction to me, his cock hardening. Where it had been hanging down, maybe four or five inches long, it was now thickening, filling in anticipation, rising for me.

He threw the towel to the side, carelessly, so unlike him. I understood. I did this to him. Drove everything else from his mind. Seven years, and still I did that.

Before he left the bathroom, his hard cock was leading the way, a divining rod pointing straight toward me. I posed for him, leaning back on one arm, legs crossed coquettishly, one calf waving in the air. My head was cocked to one side, a knowing smile flirting with my lips. One finger curled a strand of my hair endlessly.

He stopped just in front of me, that rod of flesh glistening. I sat up, smiling at him, my hand reaching forth to touch him lightly. "You were saying something about travel?" I teased.

"Anita," he groaned, as my hand wrapped around his shaft, fingers curling toward my opposing thumb, with no chance at all of meeting. Not when he was like this.

It had been a few days since I'd allowed him to have me. I don't know why I did that. I wanted him, damn near as much as he wanted me, but it was all I had. The one way of maintaining a modicum of control. Last night it had been a headache. The night before indigestion, that one mostly real. But not tonight. Tonight he'd get what he wanted. What we both wanted.

Well, most of what he wanted. Holding his cock in front of my face, I knew what he truly desired, but that was a rare reward. Not some spur of the moment thing. I teased him of course, bringing my face close, letting my warm breath caress the swollen head. I brushed my cheek against him, one side, then the other, my lips pressing against him fleetingly. I felt his hardness pulse in my hand, pulling upward.

"See something you like, big guy?" I teased. I did a little shimmy, my unencumbered breasts shaking side to side.

It was too much, too much teasing. David had his limits, and I'd crossed them. With an animalistic growl, he grabbed my hips, pulling them upward, tilting me back on the bed. He didn't bother to unsnap my shorts, grabbing them at the top and yanking them downward. I felt my skin compressing, something had to give as they struggled to get past my ample ass cheeks, and then they were flying across the room. I was naked from the waist down, available.

There was no foreplay, no gentle teasing. I'd pushed too hard. To be honest, it was often like this. He would approach me most of the time indicating his desire, touching me in a way that showed me his need. When I took the lead, he quickly lost control.

As he did now. His powerful hands grasped the insides of my thighs firmly, opening me. I knew there was a good chance that in his need he'd bruise me. My skin was fair and tender, and when he was rough, he left marks. I would wear them with pride, evidence of my ability to drive him mad.

With my legs spread wide for him, he grasped his shaft in his hand, stroking his cock a couple of times before pressing it against my opening. I needed no further preparation, I wanted him as badly as he needed me. I moaned involuntarily, as he entered me. He pressed forward, unrelenting, pushing deeper, until he was leaning over me, his presence blocking out the overhead lights, his muscular arms bracketing my head, trapping me. He grunted fiercely, and buried most of his length in me, uncomfortable at first as my body struggled to accommodate him, the momentary pain slowly dissipating as he stroked his shaft into me, slowly, purposefully.

I had tried to speak with him in the past, when he was like this, to no avail. He was barely human, not much more than instinct and need. I could ask him to slow down, to take it easy, but the words never broke through. Not when he was like this. I bit my lower lip, swallowing my moans, as his pace increased, stretching me, filling me.

My moans of pleasure, the little grunts of passion, would only drive him crazy. I stifled those, holding back, trying to keep him in check. For a few minutes at least, until I had adapted. I struggled to stop from touching him, caressing him. Not yet. It was too soon. And too dangerous.

The first moan of mine set him off. I tried to hold it back, but seeing him like that, demanding, powerful, a force of nature, thwarted my efforts. That first moan was followed by a series of uncontrollable grunts, as he changed his actions, his steady strokes now a series of hammering thrusts, driving me into the mattress, bouncing my legs around, my tits shaking. A beastly growl started deep in his chest, as one hand grabbed my shoulder, holding me in place as he pounded me mercilessly. I couldn't stop my hands from seeking him out, tracing the muscles in his arms, feeling the firmness of his pecs, traveling downward, past his smooth sides, reaching behind him and feeling the rock hard glutes tensing as he drove into me.

Digging my fingernails into his ass, I pulled him into me, foolishly. That was when I lost him. He went wild, his hips a blur as he had his way with me. I was his, unable to resist him, unwilling to. My body was on fire as he filled me for the first time, crying out when he slammed his rod into my velvet depths, pumping me full of his seed. The pause was only momentary as he flipped me over like a rag-doll, lifting my hips to where he wanted them, adjusting my knees to his preferred position, and then entering me, as hard as when he'd started. I caught my breath, knowing this was my one opportunity before he lost control again.

After that I was barely sentient, coming for him when he wanted me too, unable to deny him. He fucked me. Fucked me like he owned me. No loving caresses, no words of adoration. I'd initiated this, and he'd taken over. He put me through my paces, moving me around at will, on my side, on my back, on my knees, torso up, my tits in his greedy hands, shoulders down, pushed into the bed, while he drove into me with a fierceness that made me tremble.

I felt his fingers tracing across my forbidden back door, and maintained enough clarity to brush them away. That wasn't going to happen. As big as he was, he'd tear me open. We'd tried that once, on our honeymoon. My way of letting my man know I was his, totally. Never again I swore. I couldn't sit comfortably for three days.

When I pushed his hand away, he grabbed my hips with a growl and hammered me into submission. My entire body shook with his thrusts, and I cursed him when his thick finger sank into my anus. I fought him then, pulling away, "No, David!" I snapped.

I looked into his face, fearful for a moment, having denied him. I saw the need, the fierceness, the beast within. Then, like a balloon popping it was gone, shame replacing it. It hurt me to see that look, and I moved forward, grasping his cock, pulling him onto me, guiding him back home where he belonged. "I can't baby," I reminded him gently. "You're too big. I'm sorry. Just love me, alright?"

He moved inside of me, gentle, hesitant, and I felt a shame of my own for denying him. He gave me everything, and I refused him this. At the height of his passion, I'd denied him. I reached up to stroke his cheek, whispering my love.

"I'm sorry, baby," he muttered. "I forget. I just want all of you, everything, no holding back."

I smiled for him, letting him know I understood. "I wish I could, my love. When you're like that it drives me crazy. Forgive me?"

His body settled onto mine, his lips tracing my face before covering mine. "No forgiveness necessary. I love you, Anita. I need you. Like food, like water, like sunshine."

His hips moved slowly, up and down, his cock driving inward easily, filling me repeatedly. I wrapped my arms around him, kissing his shoulder, driving my hips back against his thrusts, offering him what I could. His motions sped up, as he whispered my name, each utterance making my heart swell. "David, my David," I gasped, my desire overwhelming as I surrendered.

I came for him, an eternal, unending, overwhelming loss of consciousness. The world reduced to our connection, the pulses flowing in waves through my body, as I relinquished my hold on reality. I felt him stiffen, crying out, while he filled me once again. "David!" I cried, screaming my lover's name, while he turned me inside out.

He held me, calming me, his lips soothing, his rough hands soft for the moment caressing me until I returned to earth. I looked up and he was smiling at me. That amazing smile of his, his perfect teeth gleaming, his eyes bright and full of joy, the little crows feet at the corners of his eyes displaying his affection and love.

"You back?" he teased.

"Some day you're going to kill me," I whispered, the words only half jest.

He held me, and I cuddled into him. "Dinner?" he asked.

"I thawed pork chops. It'll only take a few minutes."

"How about we go out?"

I giggled. "You always like to show me off, once you have me glowing like this."

His lips met mine, his tongue a teasing little demon. "You're right. I do. Texas de Brazil?"

"The unlimited beef bonanza? Need to get your strength back?"

"All I truly need I have in my arms now," he whispered.

And I knew it was true. As much as I knew anything in the world. The man loved me. And what I felt for him, far exceeded mere love.

- ( . Y . ) -

Dinner was a playful affair, while I was once more astounded at how much beef one human could consume, while maintaining that hard body. He had brought up his travel again, which I'd missed during my needful preparations earlier.

"New York?" I asked. Probably Albany again, or maybe Buffalo.

"The Big Apple. It's a huge deal, potentially. I'm hoping I can crack this account. The up-side is mind-boggling."

Manhattan? Broadway? Times-Square? Fifth avenue?

"Who's the customer?" I asked.

He seemed surprised. He paused in his eating, smiling. "You want to know?"

"Of course I want to know. You're my husband. What you do matters to me."

The truth is, I hardly knew what he did. I didn't need to. He provided us an incredible standard of living for which I was immensely grateful. I knew it had something to do with computers and some kind of special programs but that was about it.

"It's a fashion agency, Elite Model, we're presenting a multi-dimensional multi-media full sys . . ."

He lost me after a few words, but I'd heard of Elite Model. It wasn't Ford, or ONE, but it was a big name. He was talking about working with some of the top models in the world. For a moment I felt the green-eyed monster pop her head up, but I brushed that away instantly. After what we'd just done? I knew if I thought about it, he'd be working with the computer geek guys, not the tall skinny bitches who would steal him away if they could.

New York. The Big Apple. The Empire City. The City That Never Sleeps. And my David was going there.

That evening, as we prepared for bed, I knew what I had to do. I took a long soothing bath, because I was going to need it. I shaved my legs for him, trimmed up down there, dried and fluffed out my hair. I went easy with the makeup, before putting on my sexiest lingerie. David was sitting in his study, working on some kind of presentation. When I'd done my best, I stood in the doorway to his office, leaning against the door frame.

"Gonna be much longer, stud?" I asked, making my voice as sultry as possible.

He looked up, and never tearing his eyes off of me, closed the top of his laptop. "Anita," he groaned, the desire in his voice almost overwhelming.

QueanLeah
QueanLeah
291 Followers