Sexual Nuclear War Ch. 04

Copyright; Elizabeth Loring, September 1, 2006. All Rights Reserved. (No part of this story may be reproduced for any reason without explicit written permission from the author. Do not remove this copyright statement.)

DAY 3 –MY INITIAL SATING

"OH FUCK ME!!...YES!!!...YESSSS!!!" I gasped and panted at the same time.

Hands in my hair pulled my head down quickly.

"MMMMMMmmmmmmmmm!!!" I sucked my hardest, my head twisting in the hands that held it; my mouth hungry for the taste of more oozing droplets while a strong abdomen made noises of contact as it slapped against my behind.

**********

I was in rare form that day, needing not one, not two, but three different men to satisfy desires left smoldering for several hours. The embers within me burst into an inferno upon being touched by the very first man.

He was a lawyer, the kind that I hope never to need to use professionally. A criminal defense lawyer with a reputation of being very good; and indeed he was. I can recommend him very highly, but not for his legal skills, of which I have no personal knowledge. He was my neighbor. We'd gotten to know each other very, very well.

This lawyer was a firm man; firmer than other members of his practice. But they'd do in a pinch, and had in the past, some surprising me and filling in quite nicely. I remember my conversation with that attorney as if it were yesterday. We spoke legally, so if others were listening in, nothing could be suspected or proven.

DAY 3 – THE MORNING PHONE CALL

"I need some advice." I told him quietly as my husband readied himself for his golf game.

"The usual kind of advice?" he asked me.

"I wouldn't be calling you if it was usual. It's a big problem for me...and it's been bothering me something terribly. I didn't sleep well last night because of it. I'd like the matter handled by more than one firm member." I gave my response.

"More than one firm member, that sounds serious. How much time do you think we're going to need to handle this problem and get to its root?" was his question.

"A few hours; four, maybe five hours tops. That's all I can give you." I answered in a pant, taking a large gulp, concerned my husband would find me on the phone.

"Sounds like you need a strong staff member who knows how to delve deeply into legal matters. Is meeting with the partner-in-charge okay with you?" he asked me.

"If I meet with you first, I might not mind having him give me some advice." I replied.

"You can meet with me first, then him, then both of us together. Does that sound acceptable?" he gave me a proposed option.

"Yes." I breathed into the phone, knowing what he'd just proposed.

"I want you to do me a favor. I'd like for you to meet with a judge I know...and let him delve into your legal issue too." the request turned me cold.

"I don't think so." I responded indignantly.

"Meet with him. It will be well worth your while, and mine, I assure you. Trust me, he'll give you all the boring legal advice you want, maybe a lot more advice than you're used to getting. He's very head-strong. But by the way you're talking, that might not work out too badly. Your problem sounds like it needs a straight shooter who isn't afraid to put a lot of time and effort into solving your problem. We'll see how you feel about it after the partner-in-charge and I meet with you. Okay?" came the pressure.

"I don't want to meet with him!" I stood my ground, not wanting to expand my number of suitors.

"You can make that decision after the partner-in-charge and I finish delving into all your issues. I think you'll want to meet with him afterwards. In fact, I'm counting on you meeting with him after." he pushed me.

"Okay. I'll consider it." I relented, still sure my stance would remain negative.

"Noon." The attorney told me without mentioning where. I knew where he expected to find me.

"Noon." I answered and hung up, feeling a lump in my throat, feeling relieved that soon I'd have a man sate me.

**********

DAY 3 – THE JUSTIFICATION

It isn't that I don't love my husband. I did at that time and still truly do. However, our age difference was always somewhat of a problem sexually. His drive was half of mine statistically, and only 25% of it, in actuality. Additionally, I enjoy variety. Men of different shapes and sizes make sex exciting. And like top beauticians, who cut hair with different implements depending on what they want the hair to do, I prefer a differently shaped man for varying activities.

A long, uncut man is so much better for anal sex than a thick, circumcised, stout man. As the buttocks gets in the way of complete insertion, extra length is highly desirable; so is the cushioning of foreskin. But to fellate that same penis isn't as enjoyable as it would be with a smaller, thinner man; unless, of course, my fellatio is limited to only licking, then a longer man again becomes preferable; and preferably uncut, since smegma adds to his flavor. So, a lot depends on my mood and desires; as a lot depends on the man's staying power; as a lot depends on the act and variations within that act.

My need that day for more than one man was in part based on the above criteria. But it was also based on something else I hadn't counted on; that I'd want my husband but would be unable to have him. Two nights of lying close to him, one of those nights spent orally worshipping and pleasuring his cock, was more than I could bear. I needed fulfillment too, yet I couldn't couple with him without ruining my plans; not unless he wanted me to go to him, and even then I'd have to maintain self-control. I had no alternative. I'd have to use my supplements, the other occasional men in my life. For the next two weeks, I saw that I'd need more than my usual allotment.

What all men don't understand is the effect it can have on a woman to have her face buried between his legs. Males view it as power, having a woman kneeling before him, using her mouth, head, neck, hands, and tongue to bring him one of life's greatest pleasures. But there is more to it than that for us. We want to be there; we want to taste a man's flesh; we want to smell the scent of his aroma; we want to assist him in ridding himself of his sticky seed. It's not because of jewelry or expensive gifts; although I won't deny it, they do add incentive. But rather, it is because in the scheme of life, that is where we should be, below the man's waist, motivating him to produce as much as he can and to be all that he can possibly be.

Our place is where we are little known and rarely seen, but the real reason for a man standing tall. Our place is to make him feel confident and composed; even though privately we make him shake, turn his face red, and cause his knees tremble. Our place is to make the strong silent types cry out, to think of nothing and no one else but us. Our place is to make a beast so much stronger than us whimper. It is then that we have our most power and influence; when we make a man our marionette by pulling with our lips and tongue on the lone straight string that gives us control over him.

Many women will disagree with all I say. They will call me names; "tramp," "whore," "harlot," "slut;" those are the ones that come quickly to mind. Let them go to work everyday, play the corporate games, wait for the morning and evening buses, come home to make dinner, and face the same rut day after day. Let them complain that they have neither the time to go to the gym to retain her girlish figures nor enough money to afford beauty products to stay young. I choose a different path. Rather than confront a man, I'll compliment him.

Let their men leave them either through divorce or death, and where do they go except searching for another man? In such a case, my search is well started while theirs has just begun. Let them hold their tongues and not dare tell any boss he's an ass. Who's the enslaved here? I willingly kneel before men and am free. Others choose to stand up to men and become captive in a man's world. And what happens to each and every one of them individually in the end? They kneel before any man who will have them or tells her to do so. Why? For survival. I choose the men I kneel before because my survival is virtually guaranteed. Yet, I'm the one they call a whore.

My trysts with men are sufficient to assure my continuing lifestyle if a husband should happen to disappear from my life. They are quiet assignations that only the participants know about. Some are more necessary than others. They provide me what a sole man can't. Does my husband know of them? Of course not. Does he suspect? After all these years, I'm sure he suspects something, I've always been a bit of a flirt. But there have been no scandals; and I allow him the same opportunity for variety and never question where he's been or what he does. Love my spouse provides me plenty of; it's the raw sex I sometimes need and crave.

That was the case that afternoon in an out of the way hotel room, my emotions churning from the night before, tempted beyond expectation without ever having been touched, the source of my enticement coming from my mouth massaging my husband's cock. I needed sated. I needed touched. My husband I didn't blame. A lone man didn't have the stamina needed. Besides, his age would have interfered. I still would have been needy had he performed beyond his capabilities. A younger, more virile man I required. It was my decision that I needed more than one.

**********

DAY 3 – MEMORIES OF HOW IT ALL STARTED

From the moment we danced at a country club New Years Eve party, we knew we were attracted. Our bodies meshed, my curves pressed perfectly into his grooves. Our unblinking eyes just stared at each other as our abdomens touched, then ground together minutes later when hidden from the public in the sea of swaying people. We met twice within the following week. Seven times the criminal defense attorney ejaculated.

It was the way he fucked me, treating me roughly, behaving as if an animal, unable to contain his furious passion. Mine wasn't bridled either. My hips lifted to meet his every thrust. My eyes rolled as his strong, long cock repeatedly rammed into my deepest parts. I gasped for air every time my stomach muscles clenched as he withdrew. Hot, bubbling liquid he'd plant within me. Minutes later, we'd go at each other again. It was as torrid as it can get between a Jewish Princess and an Irish-Catholic goy. Religion we never discussed. What was the point? We both knew what we were doing was wrong. Our fiery tongues intertwined and spoke all that we needed to say. Was it love? Was it lust? I don't think that either of us really knew the answer.

He slowed it down. His wife was becoming suspicious. His volume wasn't what it should have been. He blamed it on job stress. They went away on vacation and came back a happier couple. That told me for him it was lust. It didn't matter. The important thing was that we could sometimes be with each other, though not nearly as much.

I was in his office one Saturday afternoon; a new location to keep our assignation secret. We were all alone for the first hour. Before we knew it, we had an audience. He'd be fired. His wife would be informed. I'd be exposed, even more than I was while lying on that conference table. But there was a way around the scandal. He could be on the fast track to becoming a partner. I could obtain free legal representation and advice. My strong needs could have additional avenues for sating.

I took the easy way out of my, and his, dilemma. Two hours later I walked on air as I left the law office after kissing three men good-bye; feeling a bit sore but completely sated.

To be continued...