Richard Travis - Another suck wife

"The city is about to let contracts for a series of major public works projects," Harold continued. "Not just millions, but hundreds of millions of dollars. If we play our cards right, we might be able to get financial consulting contracts for a chunk of it."

Kitty froze with a fresh pair of panties in her hand. She turned, looking as if she couldn't believe what she'd heard.

"You're talking politics," she said pointedly.

"I know, but…"

"What the hell do you know about politics," Harold said.

"I know it's a long shot, but…"

Kitty looked determined, her legs spread, her hands on her shapely hips, the panda dangling from a finger. "You're a businessman, Harold. You know how to talk to business people. You don't know the first thing about politics!"

"We've been approached by one of the candidates for Mayor – asked to make a campaign contribution. Our reserves are still strong. It could give us a decided edge, if our man wins."

"You gotta be kidding, Harold! It's not that simple any more!"

"Sarah said…"

He stopped suddenly, bowed his head in his hands and looked like he was about to cry.

Oh shit! Kitty thought, remembering the early days, when he actually did skin their bedroom and cry – until she took him in her arms and nursed him back to life with her warm tits and wet pussy.

No more. Let Sarah lick his cock just to prove to him that it would still function. Let Sarah listen to his silent fears, his deep-seated insecurities. Let Sarah suck his cock, then crawl on top of it and later thank him for giving her such total satisfaction.

"It's the only chance we've got, Kitty," Harold said weakly. "If we don't get some contracts with the city, we'll be out of business in a year!"

Kitty cringed. He was a businessman, not a politician. He'd sink like a chunk of lead if he tried to swim in political waters. She couldn't just stand idly by and let him do that.

She sat on the bed beside him, dropping her panties on the floor.

"You've lost some weight," she said, rubbing his thigh, than his stomach.

"I'm not sleeping well Kitty or eating well, or…"

She grinned. "There's some things you still do well."

He shook his head, eyes down, "Not very often," he confessed.

"Let's see," Kitty said, unbuttoning his shirt. "Just for old-time's sake."

He sat like a mental patient as she undressed him, then pushed him back on the bed. Even his lips were slow to respond to her kiss. It was the touch of her tongue that urged him to part his lips and accept what she offered.

Slowly, very slowly, he began to extend his tongue to meet hers, to move slightly to the touch of her soft fingers on the insides of his thighs. When she touched his cock, then took ft in her warm hand, he was limp, totally lifeless.

She kissed his lips again, then his chest, her tongue making a moist line down his stomach to the edge of his pubic hairs.

"See?" she said as his cock began to come alive. "Some things never change, Harold."

She took the cock-head in her mouth, running her moist tongue around it, then down the cock-shaft. She took all of it, sucking gently until she felt his prick grow along the edge of her tongue.

"Some things just get better, Harold," she said, reverting to her old role of confidence builder, the woman behind the man the world thought was totally self-sufficient.

She licked his balls, sighing as if she loved it. In spite of everything that had happened between them, she did love it. The feel of a man's hairy balls against her tongue turned her on.

A lot of things turned her on now. Among them were knowing that the cock in her mouth, in her hand, was hard because of her, was yearning only for her, would explode with warm milk-like come just because of her. It gave her more than just a sense of power. It gave her a sense of physical satisfaction that she had never known as a wife who performed mostly out of a sense of duty.

She loved his cock, his balls, the smell of the man. The feel of his arms, his tongue against hers, his hands exploring her body, getting wet in her cunt. She loved the feel of his finger probing her asshole, as a child explores a mysterious cave.

She loved to roll on top of him, squatting over his erect prick, guiding it into her cunt. She loved moving up and down and watching the expression on his face go from wonder to wonderment, from desires deep satisfaction.

She loved the feel of his come squirting inside her pussy, running down her leg, the exquisite pleasure of throwing her head back and saying, truthfully this time, "I'm coming, Harold! Don't stop yet! I'm-I'm coming!"

This time Harold got the towel and wiped the insides of her thighs, her pussy. He stared at his handiwork, then bent-over and kissed her still-wet pussy, easing his tongue inside.

This time it was Harold who said, "I've never had it so good. Kitty. Never!"

"You'll never make in politics, Harold," she said flatly. "It's not your style."

She was getting through to him, just as she did in the old days. She could feel it.

"You're right," he finally said. "I don't know how I got talked into trying the political game in the first place. It'll mean sinking a bundle of money in some candidate I don't even know, then hoping for the best."

Kitty felt a sense of satisfaction in having made her point.

"I feel good," he said, smiling easily. "I feel good for the first time in days! I must have been a fool to seriously consider backing Rone Curry."

"Who's Rone Curry?" Kitty asked.

"The politician I was talking about, running for Mayor. I know nothing about politics. Nothing! Why in hell I even considered getting involved I'll never know."

"I'm glad you've come to your senses," Kitty said.

"I'm glad you brought me to my senses," Harold replied.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but Kitty turned away. She didn't want to hear any more, not yet. Nothing was decided between them, not yet. She didn't want to hear any more until they had some kind of an understanding on where they stood with each other.

She didn't want to talk about that either, not yet. There were too many other things she wanted to do first.

She felt a sense of relief when the phone rang, stopping Harold before he could bring up a subject she didn't want to face right then.

"May I speak to Harold please," came the crisp, efficient voice of Sarah Bennit. It had a cold, authoritative tone that was new.

Kitty handed the phone to Harold without replying.

"Oh, hello," he said, without enthusiasm. "Some personal matters. It shouldn't take long." He listened a long time. Then he hung up.

"I'm needed at the office," he said, rolling out of bed.

Kitty shrugged as he waked out the door.

She'd done all slit could do. If he wanted to save his business, the rest was up to him.

Then she called James to find out where the action would be that night.

A week later Tim called, sounding as depressed as a skid-row bum on death row, even lower than Harold had sounded, if that was possible.

"Did your powerful friends back out?" she asked. "No. They've pledged their support, thanks to your little trick with Bud Owens and Doris. But…"

"Then what's the problem?"

"Doris, of course. She's a little pissed with Bud – letting you embarrass both of them like you did."

"Pissed with Bud?" Kitty asked. "Just what can she do to him?"

"Drop him, flat, which she's done."

Kitty chuckled. "She'll find somebody else."

There was a certain respect in Tim's voice when he replied. "You can count on that – just like you can count on his being a winner, whoever it turns out to be. But I'm not calling to talk about Doris, or Bud Owens. I've got problems of my own."