Chapter 2: On Demand

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.

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.

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?

The phone interrupted my brainstorming session. I picked it up.

"Hello,"

"Hi Tommy," said the receptionist, "your wife is here to see you."

"I'll be right there."

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.

She put down the magazine.

"Hi honey," she said, "sorry if I'm interrupting anything important."

"No, nothing important."

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.

"I was in the neighborhood, and I thought you might be able to help me out with something.

"Sure, what?"

"I think you know."

She parted her legs a little. I smiled.

"Sure, I guess I can leave a little early."

"That won't be necessary. You can do it right here."

She leaned back in the waiting room chair and spread her legs wide.

"Honey, I don't think-"

"Do it now, or did you want to go ahead forfeit this game night?"

I looked around to see who was watching, and found that the receptionist had disappeared.

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.

She was already very wet.