If I described my wife, I would have to use words such as loving, loveable, kind,
generous, friendly, adventurous, intelligent, and decisive. I would have to include
descriptive terms such as sexy, hot blooded, passionate, leggy, built like a brick
shit-house (even though I do not understand that term), wild, wicked, and wonderful. Of
course she is beautiful.
I would have to mention she graduated from a very nice college with honors. I would
have to mention that she always has been a perfect wife and partner. She is involved in
civic affairs. She has never failed to vote in national, state, or local elections. She
keeps abreast of what’s going on in the world.
I am, I suppose, like a lot of husbands because I see my wife as near perfection.
The difference in me and other men is my wife, Amy Grant, is nearly perfect. She is the
best part of me, period.
Obviously that is not the end of this story. It’s just a beginning because my wife
doesn’t see herself as I do. She sees flaws in herself where there are no flaws.
My name is Rex Grant and since I’m not stupid I realize that Amy has some minor
flaws. They are little tiny inconspicuous things that do not even need to be mentioned; a
few little things and one larger detail. It’s that larger thing that brings me to the
story. My wife is hot! Very, very hot. So sexual she sizzles.
Some may not see that as a flaw and mostly it’s not a defect. Amy and I have been
married for three years and a few months. I haven’t actually figured it out on paper, but
in the one thousand and some days since we tied the knot we have engaged in some type of
sex at least once a day. Some days when she is feeling particularity frisky, more than
once.
I’m not complaining because most of the time I can keep up with her demands and
perhaps even exceed them. We both have a high libido and our sex drive is usually in sync.
Now I suppose I should attempt to describe me. I could use words such as Adonis,
Greek god-like, intelligent, handsome, and hung. I could use all those words but that
would be a barefaced lie. I am in fair physical condition because I engage in sports and
workout. I am not bad looking. Some of the fairer sex has described me as rugged looking.
Now, as far as being hung, I’m about average. At least in my mind I am. I suppose my
best attribute is that Amy loves me. I don’t need anything else to make me complete. I had
no clue that major changes were on the horizon. It started when we agreed to hire a
professional painter to come and paint our new apartment before we moved in.
My small publishing business had finally started make us enough money to move up. I
inherited the business from my uncle after he died and none of his children wanted it. I
inherited by default I guess. It was basically a one man show. One man and Amy taking care
of the secretarial and receptionist duties. My uncle published a couple titles a year.
Since taking over I managed to get that up to ten titles last year and luckily, they all
did well. Hence the new apartment.
Amy had taken the say off to supervise the painting so when I could get away I went
to the new place to see how it was going. I let myself in the unfurnished place and
sniffed the paint fumes that filled the air. I followed the sound of voices to the dining
room. I found Amy and two men there.
Amy was wearing a pair of baggy shorts with very loose legs and a sweatshirt that
had been modified. By modified I mean she had whacked it with a pair of scissors. The
sleeves were missing to the shoulders and the bottom two-thirds also was missing. Amy was
two steps up a ladder pointing to the light fixture. I don’t know what she was point at,
but the two men’s attention was centered on the bottom half of her breasts and her
completely exposed pussy.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Hi honey,” Amy said not coming down from her exposed position. “It’s going great.
I want to replace this light fixture and Clarence said he could do it for us. Is that okay
with you?” I said it was fine with me. When Amy turned to talk to me I could see that it
was more than just the bottom half of her boobs that were visible.
It was obvious that Amy was enjoying herself because she was flushed and her eyes
were sparkling. She knew the two men could see her charms and she didn’t care!
“That is Clarence, the owner, and that is Juan his helper,” Amy said jumping down
from the ladder. Clarence was a white man and Juan was obviously a Hispanic. I shook hands
with both of them. “Come on and let me show you the bedrooms,” Amy said grabbing my hand
and pulling me with her.
“Nice,” I said looking at the newly painted walls and ceiling. I even managed to
look interested which I wasn’t.
“Do you like this color? It’s ivory. I thought about going a shade darker. What do
you think, Rex?”
“I think you have on no bra or panties,” I said. “Got a little severe with the
scissors, didn’t you?” I asked flipping the shirt up and grasping her hard nipple. “Your
painters seemed to enjoy the view.”
“You think so?” she said giggling. “It always pays dividends to keep the galley
slaves happy.” I could tell Amy was aroused. She was getting off showing off for the paint
crew. I had no idea that Amy was an exhibitionist. In all the time we had been together,
she had never shown any tendency toward it so you can imagine my surprise.
“I also think it’s a good thing I arrived when I did,” I said running my hand up
the leg of her shorts. Her pussy was wet.
“Nothing was going to happen,” she said with a catch in her voice when my finger
found her extended clitoris. “I was just giving the boys a little show.” I wasn’t sure
that was the case, but I didn’t say anything.
“We’re leaving now, Mrs. Grant,” Clarence said. “We’ll be back bright and early
tomorrow morning to finish the job.”
“That’s fine, Clarence,” Amy said quickly backing away from my probing fingers.
“I’ll go in the morning and get a light for you to install.”
***
“You should be careful teasing men like that,” I told Amy that night. We were in
bed and about to get down to some serious lovemaking. “That’s a good way to get fucked.”
“Oh? I’ll keep that in mind,” she said taking my cock in her hand. “Would it bother
you if I did?”
That was a good question. A very good question. Would it bother me? The answer came
as a surprise to me that it wouldn’t bother me very much. I suddenly found myself
thinking about Amy being hosed by Clarence or Juan.
“Yes, it would kill me,” I answered giving her the answer I though she wanted to
hear. I stopped the conversation and bit down on one of her nipples; harder then I
normally did causing her to gasp and moan.
Nothing more was said about it for several days. Clarence and company finished
their jobs and left. The movers came, got our furniture, and moved it to the new
apartment. Amy stayed busy arranging and rearranging the furniture for another couple of
days. Things finally settled down to our old routine, but I did think about it. I could
easily visualize Amy in the arms of another man. I could see her with her legs open and
ready to take his cock.
***
It was early May when Jonas Mills came to the office. Amy was off running some
errands. Jonas Mills was a photographer and he wanted us to publish a book of his
photographs. He brought his portfolio with him and his photos were sizzling hot. Mostly
nudes and some I would judge to be pornographic.
“I don’t know, Mister Mills,” I said looking at the collection of beautiful women.
“We’ve done coffee table books before, but nothing like this. Mostly scenic photographs
and travel books. I will have to say they are all beautiful and beautifully done.”
“Thank you,” Mills said. “I have the prettiest models in town, but here’s the best
part. I have a distributor all ready lined up. They will initially buy five thousand
copies so you can’t lose. You will make money from the get-go, but they’ll want an
exclusive contract.”
That did make a big difference indeed. Getting any work out to the public was
hardest part of publishing a book. I wasn’t sure I wanted our name associated with porn or
near porn, but I was getting around that in my mind. Mills left me to ponder the deal and
I called Amy to come in and look at the pictures.
“Nice,” Amy said looking at the portfolio. “Can we sell something like this?”
“Mister Mills claims he had a buyer for five thousand copies,” I said. I showed her
the letter of intent Mills left with me. “It would be relatively simple to get these
photos in book form and make the books. My only objection is having our publishing hoses
name on a book like this. Grant Publishers had a good reputation and I’d hate to fuck that
up.”
“Why don’t we publish them under another name?” Amy suggested. “Form a new company
and call it…I don’t know…Pussy Willow Publishing or something.” I was thinking along the
same lines, and Pussy Willow sounded like a good name to me. There would certainly be a
lot of pussies in the book.
The next morning I called the distributor and verified the letter of intent. They
assured me that it was real. I hadn’t done business with them, but I was familiar with
them. I called Jonas Mills and told him I though we could do business. He came later that
day.
“It isn’t often that somebody comes along and lays a sure fire money maker on your
desk is it, Mister Grant?” he said. “I guess you’re wondering why I did it. I’ll tell you.
I used a competitor of yours for the last two books I did. They got scared of adverse
publicity when I went to open spreads. They were willing to do what they called tasteful
nudes, but not what I wanted to show. They called my photos sleazy.”
They were pretty sleazy, but I didn’t voice my opinion. I wanted the money I would
make so we signed the agreement to publish. Mills was satisfied with the standard
publishing contract.
“Okay, now that we got that out of the way, who is the fox out front?” Mills asked
me. “She’s a real beauty. Does she model?” I was aware that Amy had done some catalog
modeling as a child and early teen because she told me about it.
“Not lately,” I told Mills. “She is my wife.”
“Congratulations,” he said. “She’s still a fox and I’d love to shoot her. I’d pay
her scale and that ain’t bad.”
I almost told him she wouldn’t be interested, but I remembered her showing off for
the painters. I told him he would have to discuss it with Amy.
“Can you believe he wants to photograph me?” Amy said that evening at dinner. I
told her I had no trouble believing any photographer would want to take her picture. “He
said he wanted to do nudes of me.”
“I would imagine he would,” I said. “Are you going to do it?”
“No!” she said with a laugh. “I couldn’t do that.” She paused and then said, “Could
I, Rex?” I smiled at her naivety. Amy had no idea how good she looked. “Why are you
smiling?” she asked. “I couldn’t bare it all. Posing naked would be…I don’t know. Weird I
guess. Would you do it, Rex?’
“If I had your fabulous body I would be sorely tempted,” I said. “How much does it
pay?”
“One hundred fifty an hour with a guaranteed three hour minimum,” Amy said.
“Damn, that’s almost as much as your painters charged us,” I teased. “Do it if you
want to, Amy. Maybe you can make enough to offset the painting and light fixtures.”
“You would be all right with it?’ she asked. “Seriously?” I assured her it was fine
with me. I had used my little cheap digital camera to take pictures of her and I knew she
would do well.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll have to think long and hard about it.” Our
conversation drifted on to other things.
***
The book came along quickly and I sent the finished product to the printer a week
later. I thought Amy had decided not to model for Mills since we hadn’t talked about it
since that night at dinner. I was wrong.
“I’m going to do it,” Amy announced one day. The first of Mill’s books had arrived
and she was looking at one. “I think this is artistic, don’t you?”
I looked over her shoulder at the page she had open. It was an attractive young
woman with her legs spread open and she was fingering her pussy with one hand and tugging
at her nipple with the other hand. The woman had a slight smile on her face.
“Artistic wouldn’t be my choice of words,” I said. “Hot maybe, erotic for sure. A
hundred fifty an hour, huh?”
“No I held out and got the rate up to two hundred per hour,” Amy said. “I’ll have
the painting paid for in no time.”
“When do you do it?”
“Friday evening,” Amy answered. “I’m both worried and excited. I won’t be like I’m
naked with a complete stranger. I mean I’ve met with Jonas several times and he seems
nice.”Three days away so I thought she would change her mind. Part of me, a very small
part, hoped she would.
On Thursday after work Amy told me she was going shopping. I glanced at her then
took a longer look. She had on jeans and a tee shirt and no bra. Her nipples were pushing
against the shirt and were clearly visible. I made mention of that obvious fact.
“Yeah, my boobs and my choice to wear a bra or not. If someone wants to look,
that’s their choice. I’ll be back in a couple of hours and I’ll bring deli home for
dinner.”
On Friday evening she got ready to go and asked me if I wanted to go with her. I
did, but I asked her if she wanted me to go.
“I do,” she answered. “And I don’t. I think I might be more nervous with you
there.” I told her I would be there when she got home. I planned on working at the office
late.
I got home about ten o’clock that night just a few minutes before Amy arrived.
“How did it go?” I asked her. The question and the answer were unnecessary. I could
see by her expression she was high on excitement.
“I had a ball!” she declared. “I loved it and Jonas was great.” I encouraged her to
tell all. “Kay, but give me a moment to wash the cum off of me. I feel icky and sticky.”
“What?” I bellowed following her to the bathroom. “Cum?”
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