Forfeits - Chapter 2

When I arrived at the airport I drove to the executive car park and went through into the lounge where Sheila, my business partner, was already waiting. I picked up a coffee and Danish and a complimentary Financial Times and went to join her. The meetings in Scotland were simply a chore. We were going up there to do little more than show our faces and to stand our clients a good lunch but Sheila, ever efficient, had all the latest sales statistics to hand and she proceeded to bring me up to speed.

It was good to get my mind onto something else because, up to then, I had done little more than think about the tube. With the aid of a tight pair of pants I no longer had a problem with the weight but I could not shake the feeling that everyone was looking at me. Even as I sat speaking to Sheila I kept expecting her to look down into my lap but that was a nonsense on all counts. For one thing the tube hardly showed and for another Sheila was happily married and in the five years we had been partners there had never been a hint of impropriety.

I skimmed the paper and had just finished my coffee when our flight was called. The executive lounge had a dedicated gate and so formalities were kept to a minimum, particularly on domestic flights, but, dumb as I was, I had completely forgotten about the metal detectors. I stood in line with Sheila waiting to go through the arch and I broke out into a cold sweat. I could not think straight, the best I could come up with was to feign illness, but if I faked a collapse it would be hard to avoid an examination anyway.

We were shuffling ever closer and then Sheila was going through. She retrieved her laptop as it came out from the x-ray scanner and then waited for me as I stood frozen at the portal. I felt a cold trickle of sweat running from my arm pit and knew that, if I backed down now, I would probably be stopped on suspicion.

I braced myself and took a single, unnatural, giant step through the arch and the resultant beep seemed like the loudest sound in the world.

"Excuse me sir. Do you have keys, coins, or any other metal objects?"

The official was a pretty, petite, blonde who managed to look sexy notwithstanding the drab gray uniform she was obliged to wear. She flashed me a patient smile as I took out my car keys and showed them to her.

"Please put them in the tray and step back through."

I was caught in no mans land and left with little choice. I stepped through the arch and cringed as it beeped again.

"Please step this way again sir."

I heard people tutting in the queue behind me as the beep sounded for a third time.

"Would you have any objections to being patted down sir?"

I knew that I was flushed with embarrassment which was compounded when I saw Sheila’s puzzled expression. I looked desperately towards the x-ray scanner but it was staffed by two more females and there was not a male official in sight. I leaned closer to the blonde and spoke quietly.

"I don’t object but there is a religious implication. Would it be possible to be searched by a male officer?"

The blonde looked both surprised and exasperated and I suspected that most men would be only too eager to co-operate. When she spoke again her tone was more officious.

"We only have three staff on duty sir. I could call a colleague down from the main terminal but we will not hold the flight and you will not be allowed to board without being searched."

Sheila was looking at her watch and I could see that she was about to intervene. I had no choice. I leaned forward to whisper again.

"Okay, you can search me, but is there somewhere a little more private?"

She now looked really pissed off. She called one of her colleagues over from the scanner.

"Stand in for me. I’ll be two minutes."

I flashed Sheila a "not to worry" smile and followed the blonde into a small side room. It struck me then that I had probably been my own worst enemy. Had I conceded to a cursory check at the arch I might have got away with it. Now, the blonde had little option other than to do it by the book. She asked me to stand with my arms away from my body and my legs apart. She ran her hands quickly and professionally over my arms and trunk and then knelt to check my legs. My heart stopped as she patted firmly up both sides of my left leg and I felt her thumb brush at the tube but she carried on and checked my right leg. When she stood up again I gave an inner sigh of relief and smiled dumbly.

"Thank you sir. Would you mind telling me what you’re wearing?"

"Wearing?"

"I’m going to have to ask you to remove your jacket and take down your trousers."

She spoke in a detached, professional manner, but that did not help my embarrassment.

"Look, surely you have a male colleague available?"

She sighed.

"Do you have any luggage on the flight sir?"

"No, just my carry on, why?"

"Because I can clear the flight to go whilst you wait here for a more senior official."

I looked at her but there was no sympathy in her eyes. It was a stark choice and it was mine for the making. The simple equation was that I was going to be embarrassed anyway it was simply a question or whether or not I compounded it by missing the flight and having to give awkward explanations to Sheila. There was nothing for it. The woman would probably have a laugh about it with her friends but I was unlikely ever to see her again. I took off my jacket and folded it over the back of a chair then I unfastened my trousers and, letting them slip to the floor, I noticed that she backed off slightly and turned sideways on. It occurred to me that she was expecting to see a weapon of some description. When she saw the tube outlined by my pants she looked slightly perplexed but she relaxed just a fraction.

"And the pants please sir."

Having come so far there was no point baulking at the final hurdle and so I dropped my pants and stood there with the tube on show. When she spoke again the studied professionalism was missing.

"What the hell is it?"

I was tempted to bullshit and tell her that it was a splint but the padlock could not be explained away.

"It’s a chastity tube."

She looked fascinated as she stepped forward and tentatively reached out to touch it.

"Do you mind?"

"Yes I bloody do! I’ve told you what it is."

"So you did sir, but, do you know, this looks to me like a smuggling device."

"Oh, come on, don’t be so bloody naive! Besides, would anyone be stupid enough to try and smuggle contraband in a metal container?"

"You might well ask but, equally, would anyone be stupid enough to try and get through an airport security system undetected with a metal chastity tube?"

She had me and she knew it.

"Cheer up. I think it’s very sweet. Who’s got the key?"

"My wife."

I was not about to increase my embarrassment by confessing that the key was being held by my friends.

"That is so sexy."

As she said it she lifted the tube and felt its weight.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not after a while."

"And can you... you know... get an erection."

"No. I can’t."

As she said it she ran her thumb idly over the exposed head.

"Please don’t do that."

"What? This?"

She rubbed a little more purposefully and I felt an initial surge as my blood started to course. When all was said and done she was an attractive young woman and I was a red blooded male.

"Look enough’s enough. You’ve seen what you had to see. Can I get my flight now?"

She seemed to ponder this but she carried on stroking me the whole while.

"You know what. I find this a real turn on. That a man, in this day and age, would be prepared to wear a chastity device. Were you a naughty boy?"

"No I bloody wasn’t."

"So it’s symbolic?"

"I suppose you could say."

She did not stop rubbing me, and I could feel the onset of the cramps, but now she was reaching under her skirt with her other hand.

"Look, this has gone far enough."

"It’s up to you. By rights, as I can’t examine it in detail, I should call my section leader, who is a woman by the way. She, in turn, might have to call the duty doctor, another female, and I think I would be duty bound to tell your friend why you will have to miss the flight."

"You’re not serious."

"Try me."

"What do you want?"

She smiled as she pulled down her panties and stepped out of them.

"I want you."

"I don’t follow,"

"If you do as I want you’ll catch your flight. I’ll even arrange for a clearance on the return flight on "medical grounds""

She left me with little choice but I still did not get her drift. Then she made it perfectly clear.

"Lie down on the floor."

So many thoughts went through my mind in those next few seconds. Most of them centred on the undesired prospect of cheating on my wife but in a bizarre sense these thoughts were counterbalanced by the argument that I was wearing a chastity tube and, was therefore, incapable of cheating.

I laid down, after all, what choice did I have?, and shortly thereafter I discovered that cheating was measured in degrees of intimacy. The blonde came and stood with her feet either side of my head and I could discern her pubis, covered with a frizz of light hair, within the confines of her heavy dark skirt. I felt ridiculous lying there in my shirt and tie with my trousers and pants bunched around my ankles and, only as she began to lower herself, did the thought cross my mind that the door had not been locked. She hitched her skirt as she settled on my face and then she let it drop plunging me into darkness.

She had not lied about being turned on. She literally squelched as she came to rest on my mouth but I was more shocked when I felt her warm lips closing around the tube. She sucked hard and began to move her head up and down as though the tube was not there and my body made its inevitable response. Within seconds I groaned as I gained a partial erection, only to have it cruelly pinched back, but the blonde took it as a sign of success. She gave an urgent wiggle of her hips and rubbed her sex across my face in an unspoken demand.

Even now I had no wish to be unfaithful. I had been happily married for seven years and I guess, like every other man, I fantasized about sex with other women, even real women of my acquaintance, but I never entertained the prospect of actually taking it any further. I closed my mouth and hoped that she would be content with the mild torture that she was inflicting on me but it was not to be. She opened her knees, coming down even more heavily on my face and, at the same time, she moved slightly backwards. Suddenly I found myself with my nose buried in her sex and deprived of all air. I opened my mouth reflexively and she immediately slid forward again using her weight to keep my lips apart.

The temptation to bite her and teach her a lesson was strong but I could not risk the humiliation of Sheila finding out what the problem had been. I could take the embarrassment within my circle of friends but I would never live it down if it became known within the tight knit professional community that I was a part of.

Very slowly I put out my tongue and eased it inside her and she immediately wriggled down to draw it further in. At the same time she swirled her own tongue around the head of my penis with a frightening display of expertise and I felt myself continuing to swell. I thought that my body might have learned but I was sadly wrong; some human instincts just cannot be overcome. Her lips were still closed around the tube and the pain gave the illusion that they were acting like a vice, taunting me to an erection only to crush me back with an unyielding strength.

I winced, and felt a tear at the corner of my eye, but a new pressure was craving my indulgence. My tongue was being squeezed in a clear signal that I was not being active enough and so I started to thrust it at her as best I could but in the near total darkness beneath her skirt it was almost as though I had lost direction. I had never been in this position before with Claire. Sometimes, when I went down on her, things could become quite frantic but I always felt in control. Now, in the close confines, taste and smell seemed stronger, almost malevolent, and it was as though her sex had grown in size. I realized that claustrophobia was causing my mind to play tricks and I tried to breathe regularly through my nose and focus on the rhythm.

She shifted again, allowing me to get to work on her clitoris and, as I used the tip of my tongue, she began to mimic me. She licked at the very end of my penis and it seemed as if she was trying to ease her tongue into the opening. The sensation was odd, slightly arousing but, on balance, discomforting, and, as if sensing my unease, she tried even harder. I was not sure what was worse, a frustrated erection or the maddening motions of her tongue but, one thing was for sure, I had to bring her off as quickly as possible.

I renewed my attack, flattening my tongue and licking hard, making sure that each broad sweep along her sex took in her clitoris. I was getting hotter by the second and perspiration, hers or mine, I did not know, began to sting my eyes but her movements were getting more frenzied and I stuck stubbornly to my task. Finally, she relinquished her grip on my manhood and knelt up over me to concentrate purely on her own pleasure. Within a few seconds she gave an almost masculine growl as the walls of the dam burst and she started to climax. She tried to keep herself still, to savor the sensations, but her body twitched as she was overcome by the powerful contractions. She rested painfully on my face for a moment or two and then, as she rose unsteadily to her feet, the room’s chill air immediately cooled the moisture on my face.

I sat up as she moved across to a small sink in the corner of the room where she ran some water and washed her face in a perfunctory manner. When she was finished she took up a small hand towel from its rail and dabbed her face but then she put it under her skirt and began to clean herself off. When she was satisfied she threw the towel in my direction and I was so startled that I let it hit me in the face.

"You might want to freshen up."

I kept my anger in check as I pulled up my trousers and approached the sink. I slooshed water onto my face from the running tap and then tried to find a dry patch of towel. It may have once been white but it was now a dingy gray and smelt of stale biscuits and sex. I threw it aside in disgust and did as best as I could with my handkerchief. As I did so I looked up at the clock and assumed that I had missed the flight which, in some respects, was just as well, as the bedraggled image that looked back at me from the rust edged mirror did not make a pretty sight. My hair was unkempt and my shirt and tie were ruined. It did not matter too much as long as Sheila made it but she was going to be very angry.

"You’ll have to hurry."

"I’m sorry?"

"Did I forget to tell you? Your flight was delayed for half an hour. If you run you’ll just make it."

She laughed as I left the room seething with anger. I ran with my jacket in one hand and my bag in the other. As I rushed panting on to the plane it was clear that I was the last to board and the angry looks from my fellow passengers added to the embarrassment of my disheveled appearance. I slumped down next to Sheila and the plane wasted no time in taxiing away

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I’m sorry. It was a pen."

"What?"

"A pen. It went through a hole in my pocket and got into the lining of my jacket."

Sheila looked extremely dubious and I squirmed as she cast her eyes down to my damp shirt. When we arrived in Edinburgh I had the taxi stop at the first men’s outfitters that I saw and I bought, and changed into, a new shirt and tie; the shirt was creased but anything was better than the rank rag I was already wearing. By the time that we arrived at our client’s offices Sheila’s patience had worn thin but the rest of the day went to plan. We had our discussions, had a pleasant lunch, and, much to my surprise, I found that the bitch at the airport had been as good as her word. For the return flight I was spared the embarrassment of the metal detector although it was clear from the smirk on the face of the male officer who patted me down that word had got out. ‘As we boarded Sheila asked for an explanation but I cut her short and told her that I refused to discuss it.

I finally got home in the early evening, still in a foul mood, but as I came in the front door it was to be greeted by a wonderful smell. I had eaten enough at lunchtime but I found a fresh appetite when I appreciated that Claire had cooked my favourite meal. I walked into the dining room where the table was set for two including two chilled glasses of Vinho Verdi. Claire’s disembodied voice came through from the kitchen.

"Take a seat. It’s ready."

I sat down and she entered with a plate in either hand. I immediately did a double take. She had obviously splashed out on a new dress and it was stunning. It was black, shoulderless and cut high on the leg. It gave the impression that she had been cocooned in a ribbon of black silk and I had an immediate urge to run my hands over it.

"Do you like it?"

"It’s beautiful."

I bit back my next instinctive question, which was to ask how much it had cost, and focused on the plate that she put down in front of me. It bore a swordfish steak perfectly steamed with a slice of lime and, to accompany it, a simple salad with colcannon mash and an onion marmalade. I knew that a lot of time had gone into the preparation of the meal but it was worth it. For the next half an hour I was in gastric heaven and it was only as I finally put down my knife and fork on an empty plate that I posed the question that I wanted to ask.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It’s just my show of appreciation... for last night... and this morning."

She looked so sexy as she said it that I could have ravished her right there on the table but a jolt from my groin reminded me of the one thing that I had, for a short blissful period, forgotten. I bit my lip as I tried to keep the pain in check but my discomfort was tempered by the knowledge that the damned thing would not be on for very much longer.

We sat and chatted until the bottle of wine was empty and then Claire went back to the kitchen and returned with dessert. Once again it was my favorite. A dark mousse made with outrageously expensive bitter Mexican chocolate and flavored with a touch of mandarin brandy. I ate mine with almost boyish greed and then noticed that Claire had hardly touched hers. After a decent interval I asked.

"Aren’t you eating yours?"

"Why, would you like some more?"

As she said it she smiled, dipped a finger into her bowl, and brought her chocolate tipped nail to her lips. She looked me in the eye as she licked it clean and the message was not lost on my manhood which lurched painfully inside its steel prison. I could wait no longer but, as I pushed my chair back, she dipped her finger a second time and offered it up to my mouth. I held her stare as I licked the delicious confection from her finger and when it was gone she dipped it again. This time she hooked it slightly so that it came free bearing a generous dollop but, as I leant across to lick it up, she moved it away from me.

For a second or two I felt childishly peeved but then I was shocked to see her put her hand under the table. When she revealed it again her finger was almost clean and my heart rate increased. Even as I tried to come to terms with what she was doing she scooped up another generous finger load which disappeared in similar fashion. I was dumbfounded but Claire looked unfazed as she put her elbows on the table, laced her fingers, and rested her chin on the back of them.

"It’s all yours... come and get it... "

In all the years of our marriage we had never explored anything quite like this, the closest we had come was me sipping champagne from Claire’s navel, and now I had very mixed feelings. It was a uneasy blend of lust, greed and misgiving and Claire continued to stare at me as I ran the whole gamut of emotions. There was something about her look that finally drew me in and it was only afterwards that I realized that she had been daring me.

I made to rise but Claire stayed still and spoke huskily.

"Under the table... "

Had I thought it through I would have seen just how demeaning her request was but, not for the first time, I was a slave to her charms. I dropped to my knees and, lifting the heavy damask cloth, I crawled underneath. In the half light I could see that, unbeknownst to me, she had, at some point hitched up her dress and, if she had been wearing underwear earlier, she was not wearing it now. She had her legs spread wide and, as my eyes adjusted, I could see that her pubis was coated with chocolate.

Somewhere, far at the back of my mind, there was a twinge of revulsion but that same sense of the forbidden was serving to stoke the fires under my primal instincts. I went forward on my knees and then fell upon her like some ravening beast. I heard her laugh as I licked at her nest of curls but then she shifted herself very slightly so that I found myself lapping at her labia. It was then that I realized that she had worked some of the dessert inside herself. Almost without thinking I darted my tongue at her but the taste was altogether different. It was no longer a rich goo but, instead, a warm brown runnel in which the taste of chocolate was overpowered by her own essence. I was not sure whether I liked it or not but I thrust my tongue deep inside her for a second taste and, as I did so, she said something which I misheard. It sounded like "Good dog" and I replayed it in my mind to try and make more sense of it.

I decided that, on balance, now that the first flush of madness had passed, I was no longer enjoying it and I tried to retreat but Claire, sensing my intentions, brought her hand under the table and put it to the back of my head. She pulled me back into the sticky swamp and when she spoke I had a flashback to childhood.

"You haven’t finished yet."

It could have been my mother’s voice at the dining table and I found myself licking again without thought. Claire gave a fresh peal of laughter and then her body began to jerk in that familiar way. As she came her body exuded more chocolate syrup which I caught up on my tongue and swallowed and the feeling was not unlike the warmth of praise that came from presenting a clean plate.

When I finally crawled out from beneath the table I felt faintly ridiculous. I was perspiring and I had to wipe chocolate residue from my mouth with the back of my hand. Claire, by contrast, looked completely composed. From the waist up her dress had remained unruffled and anyone coming into the room and seeing her at that moment would have no idea what had just transpired. For my part I found her seemingly cool demeanour arousing and my hand involuntarily dropped to my crotch as I felt the steel starting to bite.

"Claire, have you got the saw?"

Her eyes widened and then slowly closed.

"I’m so sorry... "

"What do you mean "you’re sorry"?"

"I completely forgot. I wanted to make this evening so special for you and what with the dress and the food and everything... "

"Claire!"

I could not help but shout but when she looked back up at me her eyes were teary and I felt like a bastard. She had obviously put herself out and now I seemed unappreciative. I moved to her and put my arms around her but I must admit that, at the same time, I took a look at my watch to check the time. There was a hypermarket not too far away that stayed open very late and I felt a momentary relief but then it occurred to me that I had drunk far too much to allow myself to drive.

The frustration I felt was almost overwhelming but, as I continued to comfort Claire, I succumbed to a sense of resignation. When all was said and done it was just a matter of a few more hours. With that in mind I suggested an early night. I loaded the dishwasher and we went upstairs but it seemed odd to be going to bed so early without the obvious motive. As it was Claire’s pleasure had obviously taken its toll because she fell asleep, with her head on my chest, within minutes.

The strain of the day finally caught up with me and I joined her in a deep sleep which remained undisturbed until morning. I had a series of odd dreams the last of which centred on the blonde from the airport. I had failed to satisfy her with my mouth and she was fiercely angry. I tried to pacify her but, whilst I was in the same room, with it’s worn out institutional furniture, there was something different. I could not get up from the floor and when I lifted my chin it was to find that my arms and legs were spread and fixed with four large metal staples which pinned my wrists and shins. I grew frantic and tugged at them but they were driven deep into the floor itself and they could not be moved. The blonde stood over me mocking my efforts and then she took up station between my legs. She was wearing a pair of heavy Oxford shoes with highly polished steel toecaps and, even as I begged, she lifted her foot. I began to scream before the well aimed kick was delivered but it became a blood curdling wail as she drove the toecap into my balls with all the strength she could muster.

I woke up instantly but I could not shake off the pain and it took a few seconds to realize that I had woken with a frustrated erection. Claire was still asleep at my side but her hand had unconsciously found its way down between my legs. I rolled out of the bed, waking Claire in the process, and rushed to the toilet. My need to urinate was desperate but for some seconds my body refused to cooperate. When I finally managed to relax my bladder it came with a painful rush and, by the time I had finished, I was sweating heavily.

I stepped straight into the shower and was finally able to relax under the cascade of warm water. After a few moments I soaped my hair and it was as I was rinsing it that I became aware of Claire’s presence. She had slipped into the shower and she began to nuzzle herself into my back sharing the benefits of the stinging spray. I turned to face her and she immediately kissed me before leaning back against the side of the stall.

"Soap me... "

She knew I could not resist. I loved the feel of her wet slippery skin beneath my touch. I filled my hands with a generous measure of the expensive shower gel that she favoured and I began by caress her shoulders. She closed her eyes and sighed as I slid my hands in ever increasing circles and then she raised her arms up over her head. I teased her by easing my soapy fingers into her armpits but I could not resist for long. Her breasts, glistening with water, were far too tempting. I began by pushing gently at them with the palms of my hands, feeling her nipples slowly engorging, but then I moved my hands beneath them so that I could appreciate their exquisite contours.

Claire was purring but I was becoming increasingly aware of a growing pain in my groin which almost seemed to sneak up on me. I immediately stood back and Claire opened her eyes in surprise. When she realized that I did not want to continue she looked childishly disappointed but then she lifted her leg and rested her foot on the narrow tiled ledge at the rear of the stall. With her womanhood brazenly on display she gave me a coquettish smile.

"Please?... "

My thoughts were immediately dragged back to the previous evening and I found I still had a vague sense of disgust about what she had made me do but, in an odd way, I guess that is what made me give in. She stood there literally clean but also, in some way, pure and, as I knelt down in front of her I knew that I was trying to purge the unwanted memories. She came quickly and violently and had to hold onto my head with both hands to keep her balance on the wet surface.

When she had recovered she offered to wash me but, knowing how arousing I usually found it, I declined. We both got out and dried off briskly before donning our bath robes.

"I’m sorry about yesterday. I’ll go to the shop this morning on my way into work."

She kissed me lightly on the cheek as she said it and I was touched. It also saved any rearranging on my part. I knew I had a busy day and our "out of town" office meant I would have to go well out of my way to get to a shop myself. I was even happier when I arrived at the office an hour later and my secretary told me that Claire had already rung to say that she had been successful.

It was an odd day. As it turned out, I was very busy but my mind was never distracted enough that I could forget about the restraint altogether. I still had this peculiar sense that everyone knew and particularly so with Sheila. The more I tried to act naturally, to make up for my behaviour the day before, the more stilted I became. In the end I left work earlier than usual and was pleasantly surprised to find that Claires car was already in the drive.

I let myself in the front door and smiled. Claire had the hi-fi cranked up and I often chided her for still being like a teenager in that respect. My own particular penchant is for film music, which I listen to at reasonable volumes, but Claire will listen to almost anything and loved nothing more than to pile on the decibels when she was home alone. On this occasion she was listening to another of those interminable angst-ridden females laying her soul bare to the accompaniment of thrashing, quasi country and western, guitars.

I went through into the living room and I dropped my briefcase in shock. Claire was lying on the sofa with her eyes closed. She was completely naked and her whole body was sheened in perspiration. Her hand was between her legs working an obscenely large black vibrator in and out of her sex and she was raising her hips to meet it. It looked as though she was holding herself just at the edge of orgasm and the high colour in her cheeks suggested that she had kept herself teetering at the brink for quite some time.

I knew that Claire masturbated when I was away on business, after all "what’s good for the goose", but I had no idea that she owned a vibrator. In my mind I had often pictured her using her fingers, and that particular image had served me well on some lonely nights away, but this vibrator seemed like a betrayal. What did she imagine when she used it? Surely no one could match up to its prodigious proportions in real life and, worse still, did it mean that she found me inadequate?

I stood rooted to the spot as the track came to a finish and I found myself holding my breath. Claire, for her part, was panting as she held the vibrator still, presumably waiting for a new musical accompaniment. The next track was slower, quieter, and, as it started Claire’s eyes half opened. For a second she registered shock but then, without missing a beat, she opened her free hand and beckoned me.

I walked towards her in a daze and, as I drew near, she pulled me down onto her and before I knew it we were kissing passionately. My Versace suit was going to be ruined but I was overcome by pure lust. I even managed to ignore the inevitable pain in my groin as I enfolded her in my arms and our mouths meshed in a frenzy. After just a few seconds Claire broke off to draw a heaving breath and at the same time she took my hand and guided it down between her legs. She relinquished her own hold on the vibrator and pressed my hand to it. It was hot, slick with perspiration, and the humming vibration felt odd. I had never held one before and it was almost as though it was imbued with a life of its own.

Claire put her hand to the back of my head and pulled my mouth back down to hers. As she did so she lifted her hips slightly pushing herself against the vibrator. It dawned on me that she wanted me to be a bit more proactive and so, clumsily at first, I began to ease it further inside her. It was so large that I was terrified of hurting her but I found that I was able to push it deeper with frightening ease.

Claire groaned and pulled my mouth more tightly to hers and I tasted blood as her teeth accidentally nicked my lip but the sharp pain was as nothing to the fierce spasm that clutched at my groin as my manhood fought to come to erection. I wanted to pull away but she put her free hand on mine urging me to thrust the vibrator in and out. I was still unsure of myself but she began to thrust her hips with an almost animal-like passion and I found myself pistoning the black monstrosity ever faster.

She could no longer kiss and draw the necessary breath at the same time and so she broke off and pulled my face into her shoulder. Her mouth was now at my ear and in between heaving gasps of air she screamed at me.

"Yes! YES!... Fuck me!... .Harder... Faster you bastard!"

I had never heard her like this and I was appalled but, at the same time I was turned on by it and the ever increasing pain of my frustrated hard on was almost becoming too much to bear. I was on the point of wrenching myself away when her body suddenly stiffened beneath mine and she held on to me painfully tight as her long denied orgasm passed through her body like a high voltage current.

"OH FUCK!... .YESSSSsssss!"

It seemed to take an age to finally relinquish its hold on her but, as it did, her arms went limp and I rolled from her and fell to the floor. She lay slumped on the sofa, the vibrator still lodged deep inside her, and every now and then she was shaken by another pleasant after shock. For my part I felt a complete wreck. My suit was crumpled and damp and there were some stains that were not going to be easily removed.

We remained like that for a few moments with Claire coming down from on high and me trying to get my confused thoughts into some sort of order. Finally, with an audible sucking sound, Claire removed the vibrator and switched it off. With a beaming smile she got to her feet.

"I’ve got something for you."

She went to the kitchen and returned with a carrier bag. She looked excited and my own excitement matched hers when I saw the ironmongers logo She handed it to me and I felt the reassuring weightiness of it.

"Clever girl!"

I could wait no longer. I stripped out of my clothes there and then strewing them heedlessly onto the floor.

"I’ll need your help."

"Okay, tell me what you want me to do."

I removed my boxer shorts and Claire reached forward and gently took hold of the tube.

"That looks sore."

She gently rubbed her thumb over the livid purple head which did indeed have a strangled look about it

"Claire, that’s not helpful."

I smiled at her and she released my manhood which had begun to twitch frustratedly under her unintentionally arousing ministrations.

"Oh, I’m sorry."

I upturned the carrier bag, dropping the saw onto the sofa, and then my face fell.

"Oh, for fucks sake!"

Claire suddenly looked anxious.

"What’s wrong?"

"You silly bitch, this is a bloody woodwork saw!"

I regretted the harshness of my words as soon as they were out of my mouth but this new frustration coming on top of everything that had gone before was simply too much. Claire looked at me in shock and, without another word she stormed from the room. I wanted to apologize and shouted after her but she did not answer. I struggled back into my undershorts and followed her upstairs only to find the bedroom door locked. For the next twenty minutes I pleaded with her but she would not open the door and so I had little choice but to go back downstairs. I got myself a beer from the fridge and considered my options. There was still time enough for me to catch the store but I would still need Claire’s co-operation. I had just decided that I would get dressed and go in search of what I needed when Claire came in. She had obviously showered and she had dressed casually in jeans and tee-shirt but I could see from her face that she was still in a black mood.

"Claire, I’m really sorry... it’s just that this bloody thing has got beyond a joke."

She remained silent for a couple of awkward moments and then, weighing her words carefully, she replied.

"I want you to carry on wearing it."

"What?!"

"I want you to wear it for the whole fortnight."

"Claire, what are you saying?"

"It seems to make you more... attentive... and besides, it’s one way that you can prove your fidelity."

Alarm bells immediately began to ring. The question of my fidelity had become a sore subject of late and, in all the years of our marriage we had not had such heated arguments as we had experienced in the last few months.

One of the things that had initially drawn us together was the shared intention not to have children. We were both looking to make a success of our careers and we both had unfulfilled ambitions. Neither of us wanted to be tied down for a large part of our lives raising offspring – or so I thought. As time went by I found that my outlook had changed. Part of it was growing older and feeling a little jealous watching other fathers with their kids in the park and I had started having daydreams about having a family of my own.

When I broached the subject with Claire she was painfully blunt. She did not want children and more pointedly she could not understand why I refused to have a vasectomy. I could not really answer that myself. I suppose there was the spurious and often used excuse that I would feel "less of a man" but, in the early years of our relationship, even Claire was prepared to concede that we might have a change of heart. Now, she was saying that her mind was made up and, if I loved her, I would have the operation. The fact that, up to now, I had refused was to her mind a slight and proved that I contemplated the prospect of another relationship.

As I looked into her eyes I knew that we had reached a hiatus.

"What if I refuse?"

"Then I’ll leave you."

[ Story continues in Chapter 3 ]
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Page last updated 04-Jun-11 by: Altairboy@aol.com