Gilda Grayson - The exhibitionist wife

Ron came out of the bathroom, his longish, brown hair tousled and damp. He was dressed in his pajamas, and wordlessly, he looked at his wife, lying uncovered, her nightgown pulled up seductively… invitingly, her hands still cupping her own breasts. His eyes were bleary from long hours of reading, and he was exhausted physically. He knew that the display of her legs and breasts were intended for him… But God! A man's got to feel like it… before he can really do anything! He switched off the light.

He could still see her in the glow of the bedside lamp, her eyes deep pools of troubled blue, "Ron… aren't you even a little bit interested… tonight…?" she murmured.

"I'm pretty damned tired, darling…" he told her.

"Could you get interested… if I helped…?"

"Hell! If I can't get it up… there's not much action, and the way I feel right now… I couldn't even get interested in Raquel Welch!" He padded toward the bed and sat down on his side, reaching for a cigarette to light.

"Ron, darling… I just want you to… to be interested in me… right now, tonight!"

Steadfastly, he refused to look at her as he sucked smoke into his lungs and exhaled. "Why don't you just go to sleep and forget about it, tonight…" he suggested, then promised, "maybe tomorrow night! I've got a lighter schedule, tomorrow, and I'll feel more rested."

With a boldness born of her desperate need, Susan scrambled felinely to her knees and whipped her nightgown off over her head. Tossing the wisp of a garment carelessly aside, she knee-walked across the bed, her arms going around Ron's shoulders. "Oh, Ron… I can't wait!" she cried shamelessly, nuzzling into the back of his neck. "Don't you understand…?"

"… And, don't you understand? I'm tired… and I want to get some sleep!" He tried to remove her arms, but now she was slipping her hand inside his pajama tops and running her palm down over the hairiness of his chest. He stayed her hand with his own, growling, "Stop it, Susan! It's no use!"

He stood to his feet, breaking her embrace, and as he turned, saw that she was completely naked.

Blushing from his rebuff, but determined that he would be aroused, she said, "Ron, darling… I've never had to ask you… before, but I am now… Will you… make love to me… please?" It shamed her to ask him… but she had to do it.

Her husband picked up her filmy nightgown and handed it to her wordlessly, a feeling of shame at his own temporary inadequacy flooding through him. God damn it! I can't help it! For the last three nights I've tried… but my cock just lies there limp!

Taken aback with surprise and disappointment, Susan took her nightgown from him. "Do you mean… you won't even try to… do it…?" she asked, holding back scalding tears.

His eyes swept over all of the loveliness of her, and he knew he should feel something for her. Ordinarily, before the last several weeks of harder, more exacting work, his penis would have been at full erection, standing jackstaff straight and hard… But, now he was only aware of a deep exhaustion that seemed to drain him.

"No, darling…" he murmured. "It's no use… I can't do anything!" It was a hard confession to make. He lay down on his side of the bed and rolled to his side, facing away from her. "Let's try to get some sleep… okay…?"

Susan told herself that she wouldn't cry. There has to be a way! Oh, God! I've just got to… have it, tonight! She lay down beside him, curling her body in close to his, spoon-fashion, trying to understand what it must be like… to be a man, dependent upon sexual performance or non-performance by the presence or absence of an erection. He must feel horrible about it!

"I love you, darling," she whispered into his ear, as her hand slid up over his hip and down into the waistband of his pajamas. She had never been this bold before, but of course, she had never had to be. Her tiny, hand rummaged for a moment or two in the hairiness of his abdomen before moving on down to grasp the limp length of his penis. With gentle sensuousness she caressed it, working the foreskin back and her fingers rubbing the cool head of it all around.

"Sue, honey…" she heard him choke, "give it up… and go to sleep!"

Nothing was happening. His penis lay soft in her hand… and at this point she didn't have enough sophisticated knowledge about sex to know that… if she used the right technique, her husband's cock would have been standing at erect attention within moments… regardless of his pleadings of fatigue.

She was just on the verge of giving up, when an idea floated into her mind. That's it! Why didn't I think of it before!

Quickly, she was on her knees again and she was tugging at him, forcing her husband to turn over on his back.

"Ron, Ron…" she urged. "Look at me! I want to show you some of the crazy, sexy things that a lot of the men are asking me to do… so they can take pictures of me doing them…"

He was on his back then, struggling to sit up. "I thought you were just posing nude… not making with obscenity… and porn!"

"Do you really think those lecherous old men… just take art pictures…?" she countered.

A sudden jealousy seized him. Damn! Is there anything else going on…? He was sitting up now, gripping her by the shoulders and feeling the soft, satiny flesh cringe under his fingers. "What else are you doing down there? I thought they couldn't touch you?" Secretly, she was overjoyed; at least, her husband was jealous.

… And, maybe that's a good sign!

"Then, what the hell are you talking about?"

"The sexy things… they've been asking me to do!"

"So…?"

"I thought you'd like to know…" She made her voice low and throaty.

"You know damned well I do!" Ron growled, his quick anger beginning to subside somewhat as the flashing idea that his wife might have been going the whole way toward posing for hard-core pornography… with a man was dispelled. Then, he added, "Like what…?"

"Let me go and I'll show you… You do want me to show you… don't you, darling…?"

Releasing her, her husband leaned back against the headboard. "Yeah… I'd like to see it… because I'm thinking maybe you shouldn't be working in a joint like that!"

"It's not a joint, Ron! You can't compare it to a topless-bottomless beer bar. Those are real joints!" she defended.

"I suppose…" he agreed, "but let's get on with it, now!" His curiosity was piqued. He had to know what had been going on in those little, individual and intimate studios at The Camera's Eye.

A pounding excitement made her a little nervous, but she was determined to carry out her little stratagem. She'd do almost anything, now, to arouse her husband, because there was a roaring inferno of desire consuming her loins. She had to get him ready!

"Well…?" he urged.

"One thing they like for me to do is… wet my lips and let my tongue stick out a little with my mouth open… and pretend that I'm cumming…" She did it, illustrating the pose.

"That's not so bad…"

"Then… I put saliva on my nipples and roll them between my fingers… like this!" It wasn't necessary as her nipples already coned out into erect sensitiveness. "They like me to cup my breasts in my hands… and point them right at the camera, too…"

Her hands caressed the soft fullness of her breasts, offering them to her husband. "There's one thing about it, though. All these things really do make me all hot… and…"

"I should think they would…" Ron agreed, as his eyes watched his wife's tiny hands massaging the pliant flesh of her own breasts. Suddenly, he felt it. There was a crawling, lifting sensation down there between his legs as his scrotum tightened, and a growing sensation of a tentative erection caused his penis to bulge up against the material of his pajamas. It surprised him. I'll be damned! My cock's getting hard! Unconsciously, his hand went down to it and covered it.