Richard Mountbatten - Vicki_s furry friend

The cold, winter rain beat a relentless tattoo against the glass panes of the bedroom window, and Victoria Young shivered involuntarily beneath the thick quilt covering her firm young body. The curvaceous brunette drew it tighter around her chin, listening to the gurgle of water in the roof drains, and wished her husband, Kirk, were home on this afternoon of all afternoons.

It was New Year's Eve.

But he wasn't home, and he wouldn't be home until six o'clock – it was a little after three now. He was a physical education teacher at Valley Glen College, and had the misfortune – or fortune, depending on whose point of view was taken – to be a hundred miles away in Lakeland, coaching the college's freshman basketball team in the championship game of the Holiday Classic Tournament.

It would be nice, she thought, if Kirk were here right now, lying with me under this warm old quilt with his arms around me. Perhaps we could even make love; yes, that would be nice – to make love with Kirk on this cold New Year's Eve afternoon.

She thought about her husband of less than a year, about his tall, handsome body and his pleasantly freckled face topped with that funny little shock of dark red hair. She thought about his quiet tenderness, his concern when she was feeling low or under the weather, his self-assurance about future prosperity, when his enormous talent was realized and he was entrenched as Valley Glen's head coach. He often talked of the day when they could live in their own home, perhaps one of the older but aesthetically appealing homes along faculty row or one of the newer, more modem ones in the hills above the campus, instead of this small and somewhat shabby guest house six miles north of the college on a once prosperous citrus ranch now withering into obscurity under the crush of exorbitant property taxes brought about by the greed of the area's land developers; when they would drive an elegant Cadillac or Lincoln instead of the five year old Volkswagen they owned at present; when they could have a couple of kids and take yearly vacations to exotic ports of call such as the Virgin Islands.

And Vicki believed that all of these things would one day come true, because she believed in Kirk. He was ambitious, and was willing to put in long hours to achieve the goals he had set for himself and his lovely raven-haired wife; Victoria, in turn, was just as willing to sacrifice such things as companionship on a regular basis and luxuries, both personal and household.

Still, Vicki thought, there were times when she wished that such sacrifices did not have to be made – times like now. She had begun to picture her husband's strong body as it looked when he was naked, and the mental image caused little tingling sensations to race along her flesh. He had such a magnificently muscled body, with little curling red hairs and a flat, hard stomach that curved into a thickly thatched mound of dark red pubic hair. And his penis – so long and hard, trembling like a leashed animal when he was aroused, its head so thick and reddened and secreting warm white seminal fluid…

Vicki flushed a bright crimson at the thought of her husband's huge sexual member. God, it was so big it frightened her at times; she remembered her anguished cry on her wedding night, the thought that it would split her apart. Her fears had been groundless, of course, since she had been able to take all of it inside her – and quite comfortably, too, after the first initial pain of her broken maidenhood. Kirk had been gentle with her on their honeymoon, and she had found herself able to respond to his lovemaking very quickly, to even achieve an orgasm once in awhile. Her mother had once told her that most women never reach a climax in marriage, and she considered herself a lucky and blessed person to be able to cum with her husband perhaps once every four or five times they made love.

Lying there on their big, brass-framed double bed, beneath the heavy quilt, the voluptuous brunette knew that this afternoon was one of those times that she could – surely would – reach orgasm with her husband. But Kirk wasn't here. She couldn't have sex. She couldn't have an orgasm…

Now relax, she told herself, he'll be home at six and you can make love then. The party at Dr. Kaye's isn't until nine, and that will be plenty of time – six to nine – to do it. Oh, but damn it, I can't seem to get the picture of that wonderfully hard penis of his out of my mind… I can almost feel it inside my vagina right now, moving in and out while he kisses my breasts and puts his tongue in my mouth…

"Now stop that!" Vicki reprimanded herself. Think about something else, for heaven's sake; it's not going to do you any good to get yourself all worked up like this and not be able to have release. Think about the party tonight; think about Doctor Eric Kaye.

Victoria smiled to herself as she pictured the salt and pepper haired, distinguished looking psychology professor for whom she worked as a personal assistant. He was extremely good-looking, polite and well-mannered, and a privilege to work for; she considered herself extremely lucky to have been chosen over a number of other applicants four months previously. There were times when she wondered why he had selected her over some of the other girls who had applied – oh, she had all the necessary qualifications, of course; she had been to college, which was where she had met Kirk, and she had excellent grades and references – but still, some of the other girls had been equally well-qualified. Well, perhaps she had impressed him somehow during their personal interview, and that was why she got the job.

Vicki had to admit Eric Kaye was an extremely attractive man, one whom she would definitely have been inclined to fall for if she wasn't already married. He had a smile which could melt butter – that had been one of her mother's favorite expressions – and he made you feel very at ease when you were around him. She had caught him casting an appreciative glance her way a time or two which couldn't be considered of the strictly impersonal type, and she supposed he found her attractive too. But he had always been the perfect gentleman – had never so much as intimated a pass at her much less made an actual overture.

That was the reason she had eagerly accepted his invitation two days ago to have her and Kirk spend New Year's Eve with he and his wife, Christine, at the secluded home in the hills above Glenview. They had decided on a quiet evening, he had said, and since Vicki had mentioned to him that she and her husband hadn't anything planned for the occasion, why shouldn't they spend it together? They could have a couple of drinks, talk shop, and get to know one another socially.

Kirk had thought the invitation a Godsend when she had told him about it, and had accepted at once. He had told her that an evening with Dr. Kaye – who was one of the most respected researchers and lecturers in the field of behavioral science in the whole state – was to be considered not only an honor, but a potentially valuable asset to his own career. When you labeled such men as Dr. Kaye among your personal friends, you had one foot in the door already to tenure in one's chosen field. There were few administrative committees of which Dr. Kaye was not a respected and influential member, including the Faculty Appointment Committee, that illustrious group of individuals that held in their weighty hands the fate of all faculty appointments, be it Chairman of the Department of Physical Sciences… or head coach. Vicki couldn't remember Kirk having been happier over something since she had told him she was going to work for Dr. Kaye those four months previous.

It promised to be a fine evening if Eric Kaye entertained as well as he performed the duties of his profession – and Vicki was certain that he would. She was looking forward to it immensely. Who wanted to go out to a nightclub or a boisterous house party on New Year's Eve, anyway? Crowds, a lot of noise and too much drinking, not to mention amorous inebriates who had but one thing on their minds and didn't care whose wife they fondled at the stroke of midnight. No, she didn't want any of that this New Year's Eve; she just wanted to be with her husband and with someone like Eric Kaye whom she liked and admired and enjoyed talking to.