The Housewife Changes - Part Eight   The Strength Extravaganza Rocks

In this section of the story, the women plan and carry out the strength extravaganza in which Sarah arm-wrestles a surprise visitor. There is a lot of sex and of muscle fantasy.


Richard

I look around and everyone has left, except there are two cars parked along
the street. I look at Sarah, and she says, "Shh, it's Alanna and Brittany.
They are downstairs. Let's let them have their time. So we go upstairs. Our
party has been a huge success, and we have even played matchmaker. Everyone
went home happy, and we still have a lot of "Pina Colada" serum left for the
future. Not that I mind the process of making the serum, but each time I make
it, it gets harder and harder to have a normal sex life as I have to rub the
cream on my dick, the cream that makes it bigger, permanently, but has other
magical properties.

We go upstairs to the bedroom, realizing that they may even have fallen
asleep, leaving a note for them before we retire. Once upstairs, we take
advantage of our children's absence to have dalliance of our own.

"I noticed you didn't enter the arm-wrestling competition," I said. "I assume
you wanted someone else to win."

"That was the plan. I thought it would be you, but I guess Brittany got more
of the Pina Colada mix than we expected."

"She told me she had four. I could not touch her in the arm-wrestling; she was
strong as a rock. "

"Well that would explain a lot. I am surprised, then, that she did not get any
bigger than she did. She still looked to be no more than 135 or so, 140 at the
most. But her strength progress was pretty astounding. Not only did she have
four of them, supposedly increasing her strength by 20 - 30% with each one,
she has been assiduous about working out and has made a lot of progress on her
own. She is stronger than most of the other women I train."

"Let's talk about you. You look fantastic. I never thought I would have wanted
you to be this big, 272 pounds, but your weight is so well distributed and so
beautiful I am not even sure I want you to lose it."

"I'm not sure either, but it is a little awkward getting around town and being
this big. I think I know how Sahquille O'Neal must feel, though I am nowere
near as big as he is..

"Stronger though, I would bet."

"That may be so. I'll think about it. Maybe I'll diet and exercise down to a
more manageable weight and then see if I can get even bigger in another year."

"Honey?" I asked, looking at a pile of ropes and wooden rods in the corner of
the room. "What am I looking at?"

"Oh, that! That's just a little contraption which will allow me to kill two
birds with one stone."

"Huh?"

"Well, you know how I hate to miss my workout, and you know that today was
taken up almost entirely with planning and putting on the finishing touches
for the party. I want to get a workout in tonight."

"But I thought we were going to , ... you know, fool around."

"That's what I meant by killing two birds with one stone." Then she went to
the corner and pulled out this contraption that looked like a rope swing, but
instead of having a seat, it had a sling suspended from some ropes that fanned
out from two large metal rings that were attached to a sturdy wooden rod.
"Once I get you aroused enough, I am going to have you lie down on your back
in this contraption, which will totally support you in a prone position, and I
am going to curl you into my vagina.

"But I weigh over 225, and that contraption doesn't look like it weighs
nothing."

"Again, that's the point, but shut up and enjoy." With that she put some
seductive music on and hoisted her robe up over her knees, giving me a long
look at her calves, which she flexed and relaxed, alternately, until my new 17
inch penis had destroyed my underwear. Then she hoisted it a little higher and
gave me a view of her incredible thighs. She squeezed them muscle by muscle so
that I could watch the outer quad (vastus lateralis) bunch and relax and then
the inner quads vastus intermedius and the muscle on the inside, the adductor
logus and the sexiest of all, the muscle right up front, the vastus medialis.
There so many different muscles in the leg and thy work in harmony, but there
is nothing sexier than someone who can isolate each one and flex it
individually. Sarah had learned to do just that, and the effect was stunning.

Then she dropped her robe altogether, flexed her chest muscles a few times,
making her tits bounce in the process, before giving me a double biceps pose.
Finally, she turned and walked away, making sure to flex her butt effectively
with each step. The effect was to bring me to the edge of climax without even
touching my body.

Then she lifted me, ever so gently, and put me into the contraption. The next
thing I know, I am suspended between her legs in this swing, and she is
curling me up so that my erection caresses her vulva. Gradually, I hear her
saying grow babies, keep growing. I figure she is talking about my erection,
but I don't know why she is speaking in the plural.

"I think it's as big as it's going to get," I said.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Yes it probably is. I was talking to my biceps. She
kept lifting me up, higher each time, and soon I was entering further and
further into her vagina. I don't know how many curls she did, but She
continued to do them through the whole process, which lasted for more than ten
minutes. Then I heard her exclaim, "oh yeah, look at them now."

I did, and I was astounded by what I saw. They were so pumped, round, and
vascular that I could not comprehend the view I was seeing. I was so excited
that I exploded into her, and she squeezed and held me tight. The next thing I
knew, she had dropped the contraption and was doing a double biceps pose in
the mirror. She was holding me up by sqeezing her vaginal muscles so tightly
that I could not slip out and by supporting my hips with her legs. I sat up
from this position and grabbed her around the chest, my arms around her and my
hands reaching behind and grabbing her shoulders.

Then I leaned back and took a gander at what she had produced in the upper
arm. It was so rippled and huge I was immediately aroused again and only had
to pull myself up a few times to have another orgasm of my own.

She gently let me down onto a small love seat we had in the bedroom and
proceeded to pose for me, emphasizing the biceps and triceps in such a way as
to bring my 17 incher to attention once more. He was calling for attention
himself, and she provided it. This time, she turned around and backed up to my
erection, slowly sliding herself onto it from behind, giving me a birdseye
view of her tremendous butt. I pushed her onto the floor on all fours and
entered her again, pumping slowly and gently while grabbing her huge breasts
and stroking the nipples till they were stiff and sensitive. Soon, she was
convulsing with her vaginal muscles, over and over again and groaning with
satisfaction over and over again. Then I shot my wad and turned her over to
lie on top of her. We collapsed on the floor and slept. A few hours later I
felt someone gently pick me up and carry me to bed, where we slept intertwined
and far more comfortably than we would have on the floor.

I had to hand it to her. She had every tool in the book, and she knew how to
use them all.

Sarah

I woke up the next morning feeling totally refreshed and happy, even if my
biceps were somewhat sore. I did not sleep in, as I ordinarily would have,
because I wanted to surprise my impromptu "guests" with a great breakfast.
First, I checked to see they were still here. I put on a pot of coffee,
certain that the delightful smell of coffee would awaken them. I made egg
white omelets made with the whites of four extra-large eggs with spinach and
feta cheese filling. Some toast made from spelt flour bread, and a few lean
and thin steaks. I also made bacon, my one hangover from my unhealthy past. I
also cut up some fruit and threw in fresh blueberries. There was plenty of
food.

Soon two very sheepish looking women appeared from the basement. They hung
their heads in embarrassment, and I said. "Aww come on, I would have been
disappointed if you two hadn't stayed." I looked at Brittany, who gave me a
look as if to say, "How did you know."

"I had a hunch," was all I said. Sometimes my hunches are way off as they were
with Biggie Van Houten in Texas, but often they are spot on. This time, I had
been spot on. "So are you rested and happy. I hope you're at least hungry,
because I have been up making you a healthy and delicious breakfast."

"God yes to everything," said Alanna. Brittany mumbled her assent. "Coffee?"
was all she said. I made up a cup, remembering how she made it and handing it
to her. She sat down at the kitchen table, still shell shocked from the night
before.

"I am so glad I met you, Sarah," said Brittany. "I was living in a cave,
protecting myself from any commitments because I was afraid. Afraid of being
raped again by some man who couldn't understand why I would not respond to his
overtures, ... and afraid of facing who I really was. Now, thanks to you and
Alanna, I now know who I am, and" she said, looking at Alanna, "I am truly in
love for the first time in my life."

We paused to let the moment sink in. Alanna reached across for Brittany's hand
and gave it a squeeze.

"OK, enough of that mushy stuff," I said. "Let's eat before it gets cold." We
gorged ourselves and were sated. The two of them in more ways than one. In the
coming weeks, I continued to train my retinue in my home gum as well as
training myself. I had put off dieting down until after the big strength
extravaganza. I contacted a number of folks, and many agreed to come to our
neck of the woods for this important event.

Some of them had been skinny in high school and bullies teased them for it.
They began weight training to put on bulk, and most of the people we contacted
had turned it into a lifetime hobby even vocation. Some had been fat, and had
started to train to get thin. They too had found it much more fulfilling to be
just as heavy but from muscle rather than fat. A few had been bulimic or
anorexic, and had begun training in order to have a good reason, a necessary
reason to eat. Their naturally obsessive natures made them perfect candidates
for weight training, because of their attention to detail. The one consistency
was that these women

Felt empowered by their strength. It was something they had control over, and
they built upon it. It made them powerful and proud. Charity Witt of Georgia
agreed to come. She had been living in Canada and was on the edge of
homelessness when she was given an opportunity. She conquered her bulimia and
is now a world-renowned strength trainer who lifts tremendous amounts of
weight, amounts that even strong men only dream of. Denise Hoshor was a
retired bodybuilder who had suffered the insults from people who teased her
for being skinny. She put on a lot of muscle and had been a world-class
professional bodybuilder known for her huge muscles and her innocent looking
child-like physiognomy. Christy Resendez was a body builder, strength trainer,
and female arm-wrestler famous on the internet for arm-wrestling big strong
men and winning. They all agreed to come speak to the crowds on the benefits
of weight ttraining and to give demonstrations of strength for the audience.

A few weeks later the day finally arrived. We had people from all over the
area coming to the event. There were people from as far away as Ohio,
Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New England. Not bad for an event in central New
York. The first night featured speeches by a number of people and workshops on
recovery for battered women. We focused especially on lectures from survivors
and from psychologists about the benefits of exercise and self-defense in
enhancing self-confidence and preventing future abuse.

The sponsors were wonderful. My husband's company, of course, came through
with a huge amount of underwriting, but as the weekend progressed, we got a
surprising number of donations from individuals responding to all the news
from the @me too movement but particularly happy that the focus on this event
was empowerment of women rather than attacking men for events from years ago.

The second day featured demonstrations of strength and conditioning by women
in Crossfit and women bodybuilders and women involved in the martial arts
along with personal explanations of how exercise and especially power lifting
had helped them overcome difficulties. There were small workshops on
meditation, yoga, and mindfulness too. But the biggest focus was on fitness
and strength and on fundraising for a new shelter with new state of the art
gym facilities. Unlike most building projects, the location had to remain a
secret, and the plans were therefore vague, yet people kept donating, and one
of the local radio stations, the country music station, had a radio
fund-raiser that also brought in cash. Heading into Sunday's arm-wrestling
contest we had raised 1.3 million dollars, but we wanted more. The entry fee
to the contest was $200.00, with prizes being awarded to first place in each
of a few divisions and to the top four in the hotly contested open division.
Then there was going to be the final event in which I was taking on all
challengers. The benefits of this were going to come from the betting rather
than the actual challenges, as there weren't likely to be too many
challengers, and at $100.00 a pop, it would take a lot of wins to make any
money.

The event itself earned about $25,000, which was nice but not that much, but
then the number of people who lined up to experience what it was like to
arm-wrestle Deb O'Banion, Christy Resendez, and Sarah Backman far exceeded the
numbers we expected. Every once in a while, one of these women would lose to
one of the stronger men in the audience, but only rarely. I was the wild card
in this, because nobody had ever heard of me before, but I had never lost an
arm-wrestling match in my life. I did not want to make today the first.

For most of us, the first twenty or thirty were all just average joes who
wanted to see just how strong we were. They would lose in about five seconds
and then pose with us, asking us to flex for the camera. Every once in a
while, a big guy would pose somewhat of a challenge, but we usually prevailed.
I always did. As the end was nearing, our combined record was something like
128 - 3 against all challengers, and one of those three donated his winnings
back to the cause.

Finally, after almost everyone had left, the biggest man I had ever seen
approached me and said, "I have been watching you closely, and you are
amazing. I am curious as to just how strong you are. I will put up $100,000.
If you can beat me, it goes to the charity. Otherwise you take me out to
dinner at a place of my choosing." He was about 6'5" tall and had huge arms.
The forearms alone were enough to intimidate most people, even if his tattoo
did say "Mom." (It was in a script designed to obscure that fact.) Despite
this, he had a boyish face, and did not look much older than about 23.

I looked at Richard, and he nodded his assent. I feared this man might want
something more than dinner, but I had a seventh sense that he was not that
type. He just seemed like an honest young man. I had been wrong about Biggie,
but I was quite sure I was right about this guy.

It was going to be a two out of three match. I had already been through 33
matches; though none of them had presented much of a challenge, it was still
thirty-three times getting ready, thirty-three times pushing as hard as I
could Fortunately, none had taken longer than about fifteen seconds.

The big man decided to attack right away, and he caught me a little by
surprise. I stopped his progress inches from the pad and reversed the progress
momentarily, but the element of surprise had cost me, and I lost an individual
match for the first time in my life. I was not daunted; I knew I had simply
not concentrated hard enough from the start. If the spectators had known my
history, there might have been a hush in the crowd, but nobody other than me
was actually surprised, given his height and size and my gender.

The second round saw me doing to him what he had done to me. I attacked hard
from the start, and he did not expect it, after he had won the first one. This
was the quickest of our three rounds; I took him down almost immediately, two
or three seconds, and he looked at me with a new level of respect.

The final round was an epic battle. He attacked from the start and I played
defense. My defense was good, as I held him perpendicular for twenty seconds
or more while he pushed and I defended. I gained confidence by the moment,
because I knew he was giving it everything, and he had not budged my arm. Then
I began to push. His arm went back slowly, and it looked like I was going to
have a decisive win, but he grunted and screamed and, much to my surprise,
brought our arms back to perpendicular.

I was astounded. How had he done that? I was certain I was taking him down for
the win, and he responded by fighting me back to perpendicular. Had I given it
everything? I thought I had. Then it occurred to me, I could use my meditation
skills to focus. I had to access the strength of Amazonika without gaining the
size. I used a meditation technique and then squeezed my biceps and pushed.

I pushed so hard that the monster would ordinarily have come out, and just as
I had hoped, the strength of my alter ego started to come out even if her size
did not. My right bicep swelled to amazing proportions, and I could see his
amazement as he looked at my arm. I stared at my opponent, reached back, and
put him down steadily and powerfully. He had nothing in the tank with which to
stop me.

"Jesus, where do you get your power?" he asked.

"I get it from the anger of thousands, no millions of women worldwide who are
battered, abused, or otherwise mistreated and bullied."

He smiled and winked and said, "Good answer. Good God, you are strong. By the
way, You may be getting another donation in the near future."

True to his word, two days later, Terry Pegula, the owner of the Buffalo Bills
came through with a donation of one million dollars. I had won an
arm-wrestling match against his star rookie defensive lineman who was reputed
to be the strongest on the team. The card read, "Congratulations on your win
and on your project. My wife is particularly interested in your cause. I am
particularly interested in keeping the word of this arm-wrestling event quiet.
I think we can reach an accommodation." In the envelope was a check for
1,000,000 dollars. I was not used to seeing that many zeroes on a check
addressed to me or to one of my causes. The fact was, his check put us over
the top and we could begin work renovating the old house we had bought.

Richard

The strength extravaganza was a huge success. It had earned headlines in the
local papers and had generated multiple stories in the news. My wife's efforts
on behalf of this sector of the population looked as if they would have a
positive and lasting impact. In the coming weeks, even women who weren't
abused or bullied were, more and more, flocking to gyms and lifting weights
rather than trying to get skinny with aerobics, but that night we arrived home
and picked up the children and had an amazing family night.

I barbecued a few large steaks, Sarah made brown rice and loads of broccoli,
and we had a green salad. Afterwards, we went for a family bike ride, even if
the early spring air was more than a little chilly. Finally, we settled in
with popcorn to watch a family movie. The plot involved a young person who was
unhappy in his job of corporate lawyer, because he was doing it to please his
parents. Even though he was making lots of money and had recently been
promoted to junior partner in the firm, he was unhappy. When he finally
realizes why he is unhappy, he makes the bold decision to leave corporate law
and become a fire fighter. The movie ended with him entering a burning
building and rescuing the family dog from the flames. He hands the dog to the
young boy of the family, and the mom looks at him and says, "I don't know how
to thank you. You saved our family." He smiled and looked at them and said,
"In saving you, I have saved myself, so I thank you too." It was very corny,
but it was a feel good movie.

This led to a discussion of what the children wanted to do when they grew up.
Did they want to make money or be happy? Both," said Charity.

"Good answer," I replied. "I make a lot of money, but I love my job. I truly
do." There was a pause. "What do you want Joey?

"I think I want to be super strong, like Mom, and help people."

"That takes a lot of time and training," said Sarah.

"You got strong in less than a year," he said.

"Well, sort of. I trained a lot when I was young and did gymnastics, and I had
not really lost my strength. It just didn't show much, and I was really busy
in a job I hated, just like in the movie."

"Can you start training me Mom?" He was just getting to the age when he could
get started without harming himself, so it seemed reasonable. With our
genetics, he was likely to be able to gain mass and get strong. It was going
to be interesting if he grew the way I figured he would. I might end up the
third strongest in the family.

She looked at me; I nodded. Then she looked back at him and said, "Sure, but
we will begin gently. I want you to take the time to enjoy your childhood.
Play football or soccer. Play with your friends, and just be a kid. I'll help
train you so you will be a strong kid."

We put the kids to bed, and I smiled at her and said, "Why are there two cans
of whipped cream in our bedroom?"

"Why do you think?" she said. And she started to undress. That was the cue for
me to do the same, and soon, I was in a state of sexual excitement. She
strutted over towards me, moving her hips sexually from side to side, holding
the can of whipped cream in one hand. Then she began coating my erect penis
with it, leaving a small opening for the very tip of my dick head, She called
it a penis sundae with a cherry on top. After I sprayed inside her vagina and
around her vulva, we proceeded to use our tongues to remove the whipped cream
and bring each other to a state of arousal very near orgasm. At this point she
put some of the whipped cream on her nipples and asked me to remove it. I
obliged willingly, licking slowly to enhance the experience.

Her eyes rolled back into her head, and then I slowly climbed on top of her
and carefully slid my erection inside of her sexual cavity, gently entering
only until I sensed it would bring pain, and then removing. I did this a
number of times until I sensed she was ready, and I entered. She gasped and
caught her breath and said, almost to herself, "How do you know? You never
hurt me; you always enter just when I am ready. How do you know?"

"Because I love you more than I love myself and we are so in tune with each
other that we have become one." My answer brought on another set of groans and
gasps, and then I started to slide back and forth until her vulva twitched
time and time again, and I came with full excitement and felt every muscle in
my being seize and then relax."

"How does it get better and better each time?" I said. "How do you always know
what to do to make it different and better?" I asked almost to myself.

"Because I love you more than I love myself, and we are so in tune with each
other that we have become one." After that, we made love calmly and quietly
one more time before turning off the lights. Tomorrow would be a Monday,
another Monday I would head off to work for a family I adored and a wife who
made me whole.

In the coming weeks, we made major renovations to the house and to the
property. After listening to her own son's life goals, Sarah decided she
wasn't doing enough. As ridiculous as it sounds, I knew what she was talking
about. Firefighters save people; the police, at least ideally, solve crimes
and try to prevent criminals from harming people. She was winning
arm-wrestling contests. She was doing a lot, but she did not feel as whole as
she did on the night she went to Stan Johnson's house, so she decided that we
needed to create a way for her to solve the problem of spouse and partner
abuse in ways that the police couldn't. Only as Amazonika could she do that,
but Amazonika had some drawbacks.

Unlike Superman, she could not fly. Unlike Spiderman, she could not attach
herself to buildings. She was stronger than any fifty or even one hundred men
were. She was seventeen feet tall, with the power to jump up onto the roof of
a normal sized house. She had the quickness of a small person and the stride
of a seventeen-foot tall person, so she was incredibly fast. (We timed her in
the 100 at a local high school track, and she finished in 4.2 seconds. She ran
once around the track in 18.5 seconds, the hardest part was going fast around
the curves.) Her strength extended beyond the large muscles to even her
smallest of muscles. She took a fully inflated football and compressed it
between her two hands. She took an aluminum baseball bat and compressed it by
squeezing it between the fingers and the heel of one hand. Then she twisted it
like a cruller in a donut shop. She took a steel pry bar and bent it into a
pretzel shaped piece of metal, and most impressively to me, she cracked
walnuts with her vaginal muscles.

These powers gave her the confidence that she could do anything to prevent
abuse if she could get there, but how could she ensure her ability to get
there on time?

First, we set up an elaborate communication system through a cell carrier with
a special three-digit code. This would alert Sarah, or Amazonika, to any
events within a certain number of miles of her, as long as the women called
the number. Then we set about making this service known.

Second, we designed and created a uniform/costume for Amazonika, something of
a superman look with a large A on the chest. It was a pale pink shirt with
navy blue trim and a navy blue A on the front. There was a Kevlar vest
underneath the thick layer of spandex, and the shoes too mere protective but
light. Most important was the mask, a navy blue Kevlar mask trimmed in pink
covered most of the upper part of the head with openings for the eyes. It let
her flowing locks hang out of the sides and the back, and looked somewhat like
a tasteful version of the earliest goalie's masks in ice hockey.

The overall effect was to allow total freedom of movement, to allow her
muscles to expand and move to their greatest effect, to protect her where she
was most vulnerable, and to look as good as possible in doing so.

The third part of the plan was to build a vehicle, Amazonika's version of the
Batmobile. It was a custom Hummer, with a supersized engine, an enlarged front
seat that was moved to the second row to allow for her height and length. This
vehicle was very tall but heavily weighted at the bottom with a very
sophisticated suspension system that allowed her to go high speeds around
corners without spinning out or tipping over. The press of a lever allowed
this vehicle to become a helicopter. This would allow her to get places fast,
regardless of the traffic.

The final part of the plan included the building of a special garage with a
tunnel to a secret exit in the back of our fifty acres of wooded property.
This way the immediate neighbors would never see the car, and never see her,
allowing her to keep her public persona and her superhero persona separate,
just like Bruce Wayne, but instead of a loyal butler, she had a husband who
supported her. In the future, she would possibly have a son to help, but for
now, she was on her own. Now she was ready to be Avenger of the Abused, the
only question was when it would first happen.

Sarah

I was so excited. Everything was coming together and very soon our
communication system would be up and running. The only questions were how
quickly would I be able to respond? Richard and I decided to have a few dry
runs just to test things out. The first thing we tested was putting on the
uniform/costume. In order to do that we had to get me to Amazonika size, and
that could be done in three ways, either to have sex with wild abandon and
will it, to attempt to lift huge amounts of weights, or to be in dire need for
self-defense; only two of them were feasible under the circumstances. We opted
for the first option, as it seemed more fun.

I had worked out hard that day, and I was still quite pumped up from the
exercise, so it was easy to get Richard aroused. He got even more aroused
watching me flex my thigh muscles. Every individual muscle stood out and then
I squeezed them individually and did a little standing still thigh dance. This
always got him excited. Then I turned around and alternately flexed my left
and right butt cheeks, giving the illusion of movement, and I twerked for him,
keeping the butt muscles loose so they would shake and then squeezing them
firm at a moment's notice. Finally, I backed into him and rubbed his huge
erection with my protruding buttocks, squeezing his monstrosity between them.
Then I turned around and rubbed him with my firm titties, bringing him almost
to climax before I put my mouth around the tip of his penis and started
sucking hard. Soon, he was on the verge of climax, so I stopped.

Then I stepped back, grabbed my own crotch and started rubbing it while
watching him grab hold of his seventeen inches. I shook my tits and watched
him watch them jiggle, smiled at him and then slowly walked towards him.
Finally, I sat down on his erection facing his front and rubbing my abs
against his abs and my chest against his chest. Gingerly, I slid down onto his
large erection and eased my way into taking in the whole thing. As we exploded
into simultaneous orgasm, I flexed and clenched each muscle in my body until I
felt the familiar feeling of seizures and body growth. I stepped over to the
area of the room with the cathedral ceiling and assumed a most muscular pose
and grew to my full 17'1", the height of the Statue of David by Michelangelo.
Now it was time to admire my humongous beauty and to try on my uniform.

I put it on once, taking far too long to do so, and then I admired the look of
it in the mirror. It would be a chastening sight for any abusers to see me
coming toward them. I was gigantic and hugely muscular too. Not only were the
proportions outrageous, but I was defined. You could see the sinews and
individual muscles of the different muscle groups through my very thick and
protective spandex outfit. Even my bicep vein was visible through the uniform.

I took it off and practiced putting it on until I could manage it in a matter
of seconds. I was satisfied with that. Tomorrow we would practice getting big
by lifting large amounts of weight and getting into the car and out the secret
driveway.

I took the outfit off and sent it down the chute to the basement, where I
would put it on in tomorrow's test run. So there I was "totally naked and no
place to go." I smiled at my husband and gave him a lift up, where he sat on
my left breast and started licking my right nipple. Then he cupped it in his
mouth and started sucking on it hard. So hard that I actually felt it a
little. By this time, he was exactly where I wanted him, and I cradled him
carefully in my right hand and arm and lifted him up to my mouth. As a
seventeen foot giant, I was easily able to take his entire seventeen inches
into my mouth and do things too it that no woman can dream of. My husband had
never dreamed of them before, either. Tonight he would not have to dream, this
incredible fellatio was his reality. He would dream of it again in the future.
We slept very well that night.

(To be continued)