I’m Amy Blair, I’m 38, blond, with a husband who has a one-track mind, and for now, anyway, his mind is on becoming CEO of Raytheon, Inc. When he decides he wants to do something, his mind focuses totally on that goal. For him, everything else becomes just background noise. Unfortunately, I have become part of that background noise, along with our son, Ricky.
When I first met Jordan, we were both guests at a wedding of our respective classmates. I was invited by Linda, my roommate from Vassar, and Jordan was best man for his friend, and Phi Beta Kappa brother, from Harvard. We were attracted from the first time our eyes met. Jordan decided at that moment that I would be his wife, so he turned his full attention on me. I never stood a chance, He laid siege to me like a general battling an enemy, he sent me flowers every week, he wrote me notes that I would get in the mail, sometimes four or five at a time. He sent me enough candy to open a confectionary store. He called me on the phone at odd moments in the middle of the day to tell me how he worshipped me. So, when he finally decided to run his hand up under my dress in his car, I spread my legs and fucked him nearly to death. We fucked six times that night, before he took me home. He took me everywhere, and showed me off to his friends. He bragged to them about my DD tits, my long legs, and my muscular cunt. We had 500 people at our wedding. We took a honeymoon trip to Europe, and fucked and sucked our way from London to Rome, then we got back home, and it all stopped. Just like that. He was an electronic engineer at Raytheon, designing something he called “Chips”. He said they were going to change the world as we knew it. Whatever. He announced that he planned to be the head of his division in one year, and that’s where his entire focus went. He had purchased a home in Concord, Mass, the day after he met me, and when we returned from the honeymoon, he installed me in it. It had everything anyone could want: fully furnished, fully stocked, completely decorated by a professional, and a garage with two cars. He had arranged for a lawn and maid service, what more could I want? We moved in on a Thursday, fucked on the new bed Thursday afternoon, on the couch, Thursday evening, on the kitchen table, Thursday night, in the shower, Friday morning, in the attic, Friday noon, In the basement, on the washer, Friday afternoon, on the patio, Friday night, (he was on the phone with his boss all Friday evening) Then on the tennis table in the rumpus room, Saturday morning, In my new car Saturday after lunch, in his new car Saturday evening, back in our bed Saturday night. AND THAT WAS IT! Sunday morning, I woke up, and, as usual, I grabbed his cock, and started stroking it to bring it to life. He slapped my hand away. “Stop that!” He said. I was stunned. “What… I was just… I mean, don’t you want to any more…?” He said, “What the hell is wrong with you, anyway? Don’t you ever get enough? Christ, I’m all fucked out, and you’re still going. Are you a fucking nympho?” I said “You never had a problem with it before, are you sore, or what’s the matter, did I do something wrong? I thought you liked to fuck as much as I do, is all.” He said “There is a time for everything, and Monday I plan to go in to work with all my mental AND PHYSICAL energy. I need to be able to produce 110%, in order to be where I plan to be, so I can stay on schedule. So I’m done with that for a while. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” I said “yes.” In a very small voice. Since that time, he has fucked me faithfully, every Saturday morning before he goes golfing with his boss, and other company guys. And that’s all. He calls it “Keeping me happy.” HAH!
Since there was virtually nothing for me to do, other than cook meals, and since I had my degree in economics, I applied for, and took a job with the state taxation bureau. I was doing an interesting job, and keeping myself going by periodic masturbation sessions at home, on the way to or from work, in restaurant restrooms, etc. Then I found out I was pregnant. Jordan was totally into it. “I’ve got my perfect family, now, you have to quit work, and devote yourself to motherhood. I’ll hire a cook so you won’t have to bother with that!” I suspected the real reason for that was my less than perfect cooking, but he denied it. Anyway, Now all there is for me to do is go shopping, masturbate, watch TV, masturbate, read, masturbate, sleep, or masturbate some more. Jordan is now spending a lot of extra time at work, he claims to be working on some kind of “breakthrough process” He gets all excited when he talks about it over the phone, and I happened to hear him one day talking to someone when he thought I couldn’t hear him. He said “That new assistant I have, that Cynthia, is totally into what I’m doing, and she understands what it’s going to take to make this work. She said she no objection to staying late to help me, and who knows, maybe she can help with other things! (Laughs)” I tiptoed out and closed the door. AHA! His cock still works, just not for me! Well two can play that little game.
Tuesday, I watched the young man unload his big lawn mower from his trailer, his muscles rippling under his T-shirt with his cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve, the tight pants, and the sexy cowboy boots. I watched him move around, trimming around the hedges and flowerbeds, and once, he looked up and saw me watching him and grinned from ear to ear. I felt suddenly so wet, I thought it might start to drop on that new white rug. I headed for the kitchen, and made a huge pitcher of lemonade, and dumped a pint of vodka right into it. I ran in the bedroom, shucked my maternity dress, and put on a pair of shorts, which I took a pair of scissors and split up the back, along with one of Jordan’s big Harvard T-shirts with nothing under it. My cunt and tits were both leaking. By the time I came out in the yard with a big glass of lemonade, that young stud had his shirt off, and was shoveling some mulch around one of the rosebushes. I came up to him and said “How about something cool to drink? It’s a bit warm today, don’t you think?” He turned and took the glass, brushing my left tit as he did, his eyes going slowly down from my eyes to my tits, to my protruding belly, and down to my crotch, then back up. “Well, it’s pretty hot for some, I think.” And he gave that big grin again. I decided to see where this went, and stared right at his crotch. I said “As a matter of fact, I’m feeling a bit faint, could I ask you to help me back in the house so I can get rid of these tight clothes and lie down?” He didn’t hesitate, he grabbed my arm in such a way that his hand was in contact with my tit, and we walked back to the house. When we got inside, I gave a big sigh, and said “These clothes are so restricting, I can barely breathe, can you help me here?” And pretended to pull at the t-shirt. He grabbed it by the shoulders and slid it over my head. I took a deep breath and thrust my tits right up in his face. His eyes got big, and he grabbed them both, and started kissing, licking, and sucking on them. I was in heaven, and my tits were now running a steady stream. I said “I’m still feeling a bit restricted, you know?” And thrust my hips at him. He took the hint, and pulled my shorts down, and reached between my legs, and stuck two fingers up my wet cunt, then pulled them out, sniffed them, then popped them in his mouth. I bent over and grabbed the back of a chair and said “NOW, BIG BOY!” He unzipped his fly, fumbled for a minute, then I could feel him entering me… and entering… and entering! Jesus Christ! It must be 10 inches at least! Holy Fuck! I’m in love! Then he started pumping with all that meat! I came at least 8 times before I lost count, and finally, he dumped about a quart of cream in me. When he was done, he took a big bandanna out and wiped that weapon off, tucked it away, and casually remarked “There will be a $50 charge for extra services today, Mrs Blair.” And walked out. I still don’t know his name, but cheap enough, under the circumstances.
For four months, I got a 10 inch ride every Tuesday, right up to the day before Ricky was born. It was just enough to keep me from going crazy. Then Ricky was born, and all my maternal instincts kicked in. I breast fed him, and most times, masturbated at the same time. Incredible. Wonderful. Absolutely perfect. Then I noticed something wrong. He wasn’t responding to words. His legs didn’t seem to work right. I pointed this out to Jordan one night, and suggested we take him in and see what is wrong. “Nahh, he said, some kids are just a little slow starting out, leave him alone for a while, he will be OK.”
Two months later, when other kids are trying to say their first words, nothing, hardly even any grunts or noises. Definitely, hardly any leg movement, so Jordan says “OK, take him in, but he’s got to be all right, never had a problem in the Blair family before.” The doctor informed me that Ricky has a malformed brain, and he is never going to get better, so I called Jordan at work, and had him come in to the doc’s office, so he could hear it from the doc. When he got there, Jordan was pissed that he was called away from work, and upon hearing about Ricky’s condition, said “Shit, no problem, we will just farm him out somewhere. I’m not having an idiot kid living in my house.” I said “Absolutely not! He is our baby and we will raise him with us, not in some institution where no one loves him.” And I won that one, but there was an undeclared war started in that moment. Even the Saturday morning fucks stopped, and Jordan hardly ever came home on weekdays before 11 pm. But I was still expected to be the happy hostess whenever he brought home a business acquaintance.
8 Years pass, and I’m still making do with my cucumbers, sausages, the yard guy, the plumber’s assistant, the exterminator, taxi driver, etc. One Saturday afternoon, Jordan is home in his den, doing his books and paying the bills. “AMY! COME IN HERE!” I come in “What’s wrong, Jordan?” “Look at this! I just noticed this bill from Al’s Yard Service, $50 for special service, and it shows up every week for as far back as I have bills for! If this is what I think it is, knowing you, and your Goddam nymphomania, you would fuck a rockpile if you thought there was a snake in it, well it’s going to stop right now, and if I ever find out that you have fucked a single soul outside of this family, I will have your ass out in the street and that idiot kid of yours in a loony bin before you can sneeze. I’m in line to be assistant to the vice president right now, so I can afford the best lawyers in Massachusetts.” I said “What about your little Cynthia?” He said “I’ll tell you about Cynthia, to her, a fuck is just a fuck, just like a 15min coffee break, you do it and it’s over, not the Goddam 24 hour Golden Marathon. I get my balls drained, and I’m good to go for a day or two. But you are my wife, and I’m not going to let you derail my career, so lady, you might as well sew that crack up, because it’s never going to see my cock again!” And he got up and got in his car and left. I knew he would toss us out without a second thought, but I need him to pay for Ricky’s upkeep, and medical care, so I stayed pretty much a prisoner.
2 More years pass, and one day, the lady we hired to wash and feed Ricky, called in sick, so I went in his room and began to give him his bath. I noticed right away, this boy has one hell of a cock on him for a 10 year old, so I’m kind of stroking it as I’m washing it, and it’s growing, and getting hard. Suddenly, I’m hearing “NNNGGGGMMMM!” And his ass is moving! So I start pumping it in my fist, and he’s smiling for the first time in his life, and going “MMMMMMMMNN!” And then it starts jerking and pulsating and his eyes roll right back in his head, and I am totally happy. Immediately, I call the service, and inform them that I will no longer be needing them except in case of emergency. The next day, after I feed him his breakfast, I start his bath. After I wash him all over, I begin stroking that cock again, and again, It gets hard. This time, I brought a tape measure, and I measure him… 6 1/2 inches! That’s pretty good for a grown man! I lean over, and kiss that sweet thing, and without thinking, it’s in my mouth, and halfway down my throat! “MMMMMMMMMMMUMMM!” I said “Yes, Ricky, Mum loves you!” And went back to sucking him. “MMMMMUMMY!” And I felt one of his hands on my head! WOW! Who would have thought sex therapy would do the job? I kept sucking him, and this time, when he started jerking and pulsing, I tasted a little salty liquid on my tongue! Mama’s little pumper! I took his hand with its wiggling fingers, and pushed it into my cunt, and in no time I came like I hadn’t in years! “MMMMMMUMMYY! MMMMMMUMMY!” He kept saying. “Yes, Ricky, we did it! And we will do it again, better every time, I’ll help you and you help your Mummy!”
By the time he was 16, he had 10 1/2 inches of cock that I sucked or sat on several times each day, and Jordan thought he was punishing me! In the meantime, Ricky had progressed to where he could use his hands, and played with his cock when I wasn’t working with it, or he would stroke my head when I was sucking him. He was shooting a good stream of cum now, sometimes when I wasn’t even there. He could say MMummy. LLLuv U, and MMummy, IKREEM! And MMummy, Coca-Coca! And they said he would never speak! I don’t care if Jordan never says another word to me as long as he pays the bills, because I have the perfect answer to nymphomania, any time my cunt itches, I just come in Ricky’s room and straddle him, and he’s usually already hard. I’m starting to teach him to eat pussy, now.