tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10847997875366273022024-03-14T03:05:10.408-07:00Dirty Couples. Dirty Sex. Dirty Stories.Dirty Couples Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02958923331376155668noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1084799787536627302.post-2931099586438551602008-06-20T14:20:00.000-07:002008-06-20T14:24:53.477-07:00Chapter 2: On Demand<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi223qhwWgt0jnYgED4P-CLtjbvvOqMacZzf30wM3gRsvEmPH0e6E-pxWA50gkMX0qc9T9b6IZbDS4zjuOUrQNlApgLTrVWzDRszO7M-AOYG5LH6c6nnnF7kwSmzaLdsYY9OGutW32OPzo/s1600-h/2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi223qhwWgt0jnYgED4P-CLtjbvvOqMacZzf30wM3gRsvEmPH0e6E-pxWA50gkMX0qc9T9b6IZbDS4zjuOUrQNlApgLTrVWzDRszO7M-AOYG5LH6c6nnnF7kwSmzaLdsYY9OGutW32OPzo/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214077574212364306" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> It went on like that for days. I didn't mind it at first because I love to go down on my wife, but she took particular glee in choosing just the right moment to make her demands. If she saw me sit down to watch the game, pop open a cold beer, or even head toward the bathroom she'd call out for me to stop and drop.<br /><br /> The thing is, I liked it. She could tell I liked it by the bulge in my pants. She commented on it, but never repaid the favor. In fact, the only relief I got all week was in the shower. By the sixth day, I was ready to explode, and only the hope of winning the week's game night kept me sane.<br /><br /> That's what was on my mind that Thursday afternoon when the office receptionist buzzed my desk. Our game night was due to start in a few hours, and I still wasn't sure what bet I would make. Another oral sex bet? Anal? Something kinkier even?<br /><br /> The phone interrupted my brainstorming session. I picked it up.<br /><br /> "Hello,"<br /> <br /> "Hi Tommy," said the receptionist, "your wife is here to see you."<br /><br /> "I'll be right there."<br /><br /> I went downstairs to the lobby, and found Miranda with her feet propped up, reading a trade magazine. Her visit surprised me, but her outfit surprised me more. Usually she's very conservative, but today she had on a short summer dress and heels.<br /><br /> She put down the magazine.<br /><br /> "Hi honey," she said, "sorry if I'm interrupting anything important."<br /><br /> "No, nothing important."<br /><br /> I leaned over to kiss her 'hello,' and I could see right down the front of her low cut dress. I noticed she wasn't wearing a bra.<br /><br /> "I was in the neighborhood, and I thought you might be able to help me out with something.<br /><br /> "Sure, what?"<br /><br /> "I think you know."<br /><br /> She parted her legs a little. I smiled.<br /><br /> "Sure, I guess I can leave a little early."<br /><br /> "That won't be necessary. You can do it right here."<br /><br /> She leaned back in the waiting room chair and spread her legs wide.<br /><br /> "Honey, I don't think-"<br /><br /> "Do it now, or did you want to go ahead forfeit this game night?"<br /><br /> I looked around to see who was watching, and found that the receptionist had disappeared.<br /><br /> Defeated, I knelt and pushed Miranda's dress up around her waist. I ran my hands along her smooth legs, then pressed my face into her lap.<br /><br /> She was already very wet.Dirty Couples Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02958923331376155668noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1084799787536627302.post-20306130925125257642008-06-18T12:51:00.000-07:002008-06-18T12:56:05.741-07:00Chapter 1: The Poker Chip<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6yYgDrKzV5bxQ3vuAR5CkZ_6ROvhpwDwdHDr8V3JpqmbC-hEstNPxpdhaQBQ8BlF9Sm9-dXBgi1ccb0HviNIROI6UTOwvtCCaxajTvb3iakx5fsOFtqVe1azLdPOWKCmpt_6hmkq0mV8/s1600-h/panties.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6yYgDrKzV5bxQ3vuAR5CkZ_6ROvhpwDwdHDr8V3JpqmbC-hEstNPxpdhaQBQ8BlF9Sm9-dXBgi1ccb0HviNIROI6UTOwvtCCaxajTvb3iakx5fsOFtqVe1azLdPOWKCmpt_6hmkq0mV8/s320/panties.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213312010614744034" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Thursday nights Miranda and I play games. Monopoly. Clue. Trivial Pursuit. Uno. Not the sort of wild evenings I pictured when we were newlyweds, but her mother likes to give board games for Christmas. Besides, a couple of bottles of wine make anything fun.<br /><br />We gamble a little to make it interesting. The loser goes to pick up dinner, or takes out the trash. We use a poker chip to keep track of who won, since it isn't always easy to remember the next morning.<br /><br />Last night we played Trivial Pursuit. It was interesting.<br /><br />"It's your move," she said as she handed me the dice.<br /><br />I took them and rolled a three, enough to get me to a science question, which was the last piece I needed. My wife, who trailed me by two pieces, took a card from the box. Reading it, she arched an eyebrow.<br /><br />"What is the strongest muscle in the human body?"<br /><br />"Are we talking on average? Because I'm pretty sure my strongest muscle is right here."<br /><br />"Which explains why you always need help moving the couch."<br /><br />"Ouch. Just for that, I'm going to have to destroy you."<br /><br />"Go for it."<br /><br />"The strongest muscle in the body is-"<br /><br />"Yes?"<br /><br />"The tongue."<br /><br />Without a word, she handed me the green plastic pie slice. I'd answered a question in every category, and was one right answer away from winning the game. It gave me the right to name the terms of our bet.<br /><br />"So what's it going to be? Loser washes the cars this weekend?"<br /><br />"Hmmm... no." I thought about it.<br /><br />"Well?"<br /><br />"How about the loser gives the winner blowjobs on demand for a week."<br /><br />"You can't really give me blowjobs, though, can you?"<br /><br />"'Oral sex' then."<br /><br />"Fine. Oral sex on demand for a week."<br /><br />We clinked our wine glasses to seal the deal, and then disaster struck. Five missed questions in a row. In the same time my wife filled out her pie. We were tied.<br /><br />"How is a question about chess even sports?"<br /><br />"Quit whining and read me a Lit question."<br /><br />I pulled a card and read it.<br /><br />"Oh, this isn't even close to fair."<br /><br />Miranda smiled. "Read it."<br /><br />I sighed and read it out loud. "Author whose Miranda exclaimed, 'Oh brave new world that has such people in it.'"<br /><br />Miranda swirled her wine glass and took a sip.<br /><br />"Shakespeare."<br /><br />She'd written the quote in the first birthday card she ever gave me. It was practically her motto.<br /><br />"You win. Congratulations." I had no choice but to concede gracefully.<br /><br />"Thanks honey." She stood and unzipped her jeans, then pushed them to the floor. "You'd better get busy. You have some work to do."Dirty Couples Authorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02958923331376155668noreply@blogger.com2