The Ember's Glow
by Seldom (seldomlasts@yahoo.com)
A love story.


***** AUTHOR'S NOTE *****

Please send me an e-mail to let me know what you think! Feedback, positive and negative, 
always welcome.

* * * * *

Empty Nest.

Having a name for it doesn't make it any easier. George was watching something on TV. I 
stood at the sink washing dinner dishes.

My babies were gone. Jeremy had just gone off to Amhurst a month ago, leaving our big 
comfortable house childless and somehow empty. George and I couldn't fill the space, 
especially not now.

I had too much time alone during the day to just sit and think about where our marriage 
was after twenty years. Where was all our fire, our passion, our...well, I suppose our 
youth? Wasn't there supposed to be some sort of lasting contentment to take its place?

If so, I didn't feel it. I felt fat and old and ugly. I had really let my body go to seed 
during the past twenty years of raising children and tending house. Where was my perfect 
figure, my gorgeous curves? Disappeared down time's bottomless pit, never to be seen 
again.

George found me staring vacantly out the window above the sink. My hands were in the 
dishwater. I hadn't moved for five minutes, lost in reflection and self-pity. He used to 
pat my rump when he walked into a room I was in. Used to, a long, long time ago.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I answered in the form of another question. "Do you still love me?"

"Of course I still love you!" His reply was too quick.

"Even though I'm not sexy anymore?" I asked miserably.

His hands slid around my expanding waist. He put his chin on my shoulder. "You're my wife 
and the mother of my children. What's not sexy about that?" He pushed his crotch into my 
large butt. Sure enough, he was hard.

I was as tall as he was and had always outweighed his skinny frame, even when we met in 
college. I scooped him up and carried him upstairs. He was smiling at me. I dumped him on 
the bed and pounced. He tore off my clothes and I tore off his. We hadn't made love in a 
long time, and we hadn't done anything like this since long before that. I moved my hungry 
pussy over his dick and rode him hard. He was moaning and smiling, but his eyes were 
closed.

He was making love to somebody, but it wasn't me.

I rolled off him before either of us climaxed. He tried to force himself on me but I 
turned away and slapped his hand. I didn't want him to see the tremendous hurt in my eyes.

I heard him go into the bathroom to jerk off. How flattering. I couldn't even get my own 
husband off. I didn't blame him for imagining himself with someone else; I wouldn't want 
what I'd become either.

So who did he want? I thought with morbid intensity. Laura, his model-pretty little blonde 
secretary? George had kept himself fit; if anything my husband was more handsome in middle 
age than he had been when I married him. I imagined the two of them together, her perfect 
high round tits shoved in his face.

That was unproductive. Noble George had never shown any inclination towards infidelity. So 
what then? Maybe he imagined his scissor sessions with those strong-thighed young women he 
had appointments with. That was it. He jerked off while they squeezed him like I used to 
do. Like I couldn't do anymore. He fantasized about fucking them.

That was much better. I could work up a really good hurt thinking about that.

He returned from the bathroom and slid into bed next to me. I was sobbing by then. I let 
him rest his hand on my shaking shoulder until I drifted into deep dreamless sleep.

* * * * *

I was quite the catch. I was a very tall, athletic, raven-haired beauty. I knew it, too. I 
had big full breasts, a perfect hourglass figure, long, muscular legs, and a model's 
pretty face. Since then I've traded my big full breasts for big droopy cow udders. What a 
bargain.

George was nothing much to look at. Skinny and actually pretty nerdy. But he was 
completely self-possessed. He had a confidence posturing jock-boys could only marvel at. 
He was charming yet sincere, sweet yet totally straight. He could fit in in any crowd, 
arguing Star Trek with the nerds and football games with the frat boys. Somehow George was 
larger than himself. When he asked me out, I said yes. He was incredible in the sack, too, 
I later discovered.

We were married shortly after graduation. I was already two months pregnant with Natalie.

How had we gone from there to here? George walked in the door, red-faced and bruised. He 
had been with her again, I knew. Which her didn't matter. Some other woman squeezed him in 
her muscular young thighs. He avoided eye contact and went to change. We just didn't talk 
about it.

But it hurt. It hurt so much. Especially after last night.

After he left for work the next day I sat in front of his computer. I was shaking. I was 
about to violate his private files, betraying the trust he placed in me. I couldn't help 
it, though, I had to know what he fantasized about. What went on in his head? We never 
talked anymore. The next best thing to talking was snooping.

I opened his favorite bookmarks and visited them. They were mostly stories. I sat in front 
of the screen's glow all day, reading, shocked, revolted, horrified, and terribly 
depressed. They were terrifically violent stories, erotic in only the most twisted meaning 
of the word. I couldn't believe this was what my sweet George thought about.

Strong cruel women arrogantly torturing and killing their male prey. It was as bad as 
snuff films, only the snuff was in the other direction and each detail was lovingly and 
graphically described. I was sick to my stomach, but I forced myself to keep reading story 
after story.

He had even submitted several. They were among the most violent and graphic. I nearly 
gagged.

George came home while I was still browsing the huge library of violent stories contained 
in his personal folder. "What are you reading?" he asked cheerfully, coming up behind me. 
His eyes scanned a few lines of text. "Oh," he said quietly.

"Is this...is this what you want?" I asked shakily.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Is this what you fucking want?" I screamed at him. "You want a woman to come kill you? Is 
that it? Is that what you fucking want? Would that make you happy? Just go do it then! Get 
your stupid fucking self killed! I'm sure one of your musclegirls would be thrilled to 
crush you to death!" I was shrieking hysterically. Images of blood and sloshing brains ran 
around in my head, teasing me, threatening to make me throw up.

He stood there helplessly. "I'm so sorry," he repeated.

I turned back to the screen and read through tear-filled eyes. "'His brains oozed into her 
cunt, his death bringing her to another skull-crushing orgasm.' Jesus fucking Christ! What 
kind of sick fuck are you? I can see why you don't want me anymore, there's no way I could 
ever do this for you! Why don't you just go get yourself fucked to death by what's-her-
name?"

George rocked back and forth on his feet, unsure whether to touch me or not. I wanted him 
to hold me, to tell me I was mistaken, that he didn't know how these things got on our 
computer. But he couldn't.

My hands clenched and unclenched. I tried to calm myself down. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

He didn't say anything all evening. He cooked supper and even cleaned up afterwards in 
silence.

* * * * *

I knocked on the apartment door. It was a nice building close to campus. A pretty, very 
athletic young blonde woman opened the door. She was a little shorter than me, and in 
excellent shape. "Christine?" I asked.

She looked at me, puzzled, eyes scanning my body. "Yes, can I help you?" she asked.

"I hope so. My name is Dana Hanson."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, you're Dana!" she said. "Come in, please!" She led me into her 
apartment, a small but nicely furnished place. I sat on a couch across from her.

She leaned forward. Her breasts were small, high and firm. Her legs were something else! 
They were huge, thick and muscular. They looked extremely powerful. They were far thicker 
than mine had ever been. They looked like they were carved from granite. Her calves, too, 
flexed with every movement, large and rugged.

"George has told me so much about you," she said, smiling genuinely at me.

Dammit, I wanted to hate this girl my husband lusted after! I sighed and glanced at a 
picture of Christine and a tall handsome young man. "Your boyfriend?" I asked, indicating 
the picture.

"Yes," she grinned.

I looked sadly at this strong young beauty. "To tell the truth, I'm not really sure why 
I'm here," I said. "George and I, well, we've never talked about you. Actually, we don't 
talk much at all anymore." I had to be careful or I would start bawling to this girl like 
she was a therapist! She was just so open and friendly.

Her eyes crinkled in concern. "Really? The way your husband talks about you, he worships 
the ground you walk on!"

I stared in disbelief. "He does?" I said stupidly.

Christine nodded. For a moment her head shaking vigorously up and down reminded me of a 
cute little puppy. Who can hate a puppy?

We sat in awkward silence for a moment. She started to squirm. "What is it you do, 
exactly?" I asked.

She smiled, happy to be able to explain to me. "Well, it's nothing sexual, you know. I 
mean, I suppose it is, a little, and some guys try to, you know, but I don't let them. 
Except for Yuri," she said, indicating the picture of her boyfriend. She giggled. "More 
than you needed to know, I'm sure. Anyway, basically I just wrap my legs around them and 
squeeze. I hook my ankles together and really pour it on. It depends on the person. Some 
guys like me to squeeze their ribs until they almost break, some just want a little 
squeeze around the head. It's good money! I mean, I make enough to pay for the apartment 
and go to college, right?"

She had that young person's way of turning a statement into a question. I used to do that! 
"What is it my husband likes?" I asked.

She squealed. She was adorable! I could see why George came to her. "Oh, god, George likes 
me to really pour it on! He scares me sometimes. He tells me he wants me to squeeze his 
head until it pops! Yuck! I usually give him a few good rib-busters and then squeeze his 
neck and head until he blacks out. He seems to really like that!"

"And he gets hard when you do this? Does he cum?" I asked bluntly.

Christine looked embarrassed. She squirmed uncomfortably. I didn't take my eyes off her, 
forcing her to answer my question. "Well, you know, I don't think you want to hear it..." 
she said. I glared at her. "Yes! He cums, okay, you happy? Sometimes I rub my thigh 
against his crotch just to make him cum. It's fun. Is that what you wanted to hear?" She 
looked really upset.

"No, it's not what I wanted to hear. None of this is what I wanted to hear," I said sadly.

"I'm sorry," she said miserably. "I won't do it anymore if you don't want me to. I'll just 
tell George I can't."

I thought about that for a long moment. Would that make me happy? Would it bring George 
and me any closer? "Keep doing it," I decided. "As long as George wants you to squeeze 
him, that's okay. Whatever makes him happy."

Christine looked at me in complete awe. It was my turn to feel uncomfortable. "Wow," she 
breathed. "You are every bit as understanding, loving, and wonderful as he says you are! I 
thought he was just exaggerating."

She came and sat on the couch next to me. I stared down at my lap, comparing my fat jiggly 
thighs with her pillars of muscle. She put her well-muscled arm around my shoulder. "He 
really loves you, you know," she said softly. "He just adores you. He's one of my few 
customers who's never made any sort of sexual advance, and I have a lot of married 
customers. I really respect him and his love for you."

"I suppose," I said. "But you're his fantasy girl, not me. That really hurts."

She bit her lip and looked at me in concern. She shrugged helplessly. "Maybe someday he'll 
stop coming to me," she said. "I'll be happy then, because I'll know he goes to you."

"I'm too old..." I said.

She slapped my hand. "Hey! Don't scare me like that! I never want to be too old! I'm going 
to be a sexy old broad with even more muscle than I have now!"

I laughed. "I can believe it." She was right. Muscle had nothing to do with age and 
everything to do with determination. I had let myself go to seed. George hadn't let 
himself go. He was more handsome than ever! I wanted him. And he still loved me. I should 
stop feeling sorry for myself and...

I would become his fantasy.

How strong would I have to be? Only one way to find out. I pulled out my purse. "How much 
is it, usually?"

"Um, about a hundred dollars an hour. It would be more except I don't strip or anything 
like that."

So much! I only had fifty in my wallet. "Would twenty be enough for a sample?"

She looked confused but took the bill. "You want...me to squeeze...you?" she asked.

I smiled at her. "It's the only way to find out how strong I'll need to be. Maybe you can 
show me some technique, too, George seems to think you're really good." At least from his 
check book she was the one he had gone to see exclusively for the past six months.

She stood in front of me and indicated that I should kneel. I did. She shuffled forward 
and clamped her thighs around my head. I ran my hands along her jagged calves and 
monstrous thighs. She was huge! Every muscle bulged with inhuman power.

She flexed. I cried out from the pain, but she ignored my pleas and kept squeezing. It was 
incredible. The girl seemed to call up power from an inexhaustible source. I felt the 
bones in my skull grind together. I couldn't open my nose or jaw enough to breathe. I felt 
her crotch start to bump against my skull. I realized she was getting wet. She really 
enjoyed this!

Her moans of pleasure were the last thing I heard before I blacked out in her awesome 
thighs.

* * * * *

It was a slow, grueling process. I went to the gym religiously, every day packing on more 
weights and pushing myself through more sets. I did three muscle-building workouts a week 
and aerobics every day. I told a trainer exactly what I wanted, to be ripped and bulge 
with muscle like a Ms. Olympia. He nodded skeptically and told me he knew a good regimen, 
if I had the will.

I love my husband. I had all the will I needed.

Four months later and I had slimmed down quite a bit, replacing a great deal of fat with a 
modest amount of muscle. I was still a big woman, but I was back to my weight after Jeremy 
was born. It felt good.

It was a cold January Sunday. I finished cleaning up after dinner late in the evening. It 
had been dark for hours. George was sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, 
reading. He had let the fire die down. I joined him, curling up against his side. He 
looked over at me, surprised, then settled himself into a comfortable position. I stroked 
his pants while he sat there reading, remembering when he used to get a raging hard-on 
just from my presence. Back when I would whip his Richard out and suck on him like I 
wanted to pull his insides out through his dick.

Back when I was young and fun.

Richard didn't wake up. George was wrapped up in his book. He probably didn't even notice 
I was trying to stroke him. I settled for petting his legs and stomach. He was so 
handsome. I wanted him and he didn't even notice. I bit back tears. It hurt so much!

I stared at the glowing coals in the fireplace. The ember's glow was warm, content, but 
had none of the passion of the raging fire earlier this evening. Soon, if nothing happened 
to stoke it, even that small warmth would be gone.

* * * * *

I think George started to get a little scared of me. I never told him what I was doing or 
why, but he saw me getting thinner, and then bigger again with muscle. He didn't know I 
was doing it all for him. I worked out hard all that summer. The kids were gone. Natalie 
was married and Jeremy got a summer job, so we didn't see them.

I wore baggy clothes to bed so George wouldn't see how buff I was getting. I wanted it to 
be a surprise. Almost a year of fantatical training was starting to pay off. Muscles 
layered on easily over my big bones. My trainer was surprised by the fanaticism I applied 
to my workouts. All his doubts about my resolve disappeared. I told him I wanted to be 
bigger, as big and muscular as possible. He was surprised but helped me.

My hard work was paying off. I was overweight again, but with muscle instead of fat. I was 
huge and hard. I was sexy again. Damn sexy. Perhaps even better-looking than I had been at 
twenty-five. I certainly had more muscle, and that calm self-assurance that comes with age 
and a supportive partner.

I finished a workout thirteen months into my decision to change. Sweat streamed down my 
toned body. I was happy but not yet satisfied. I knew what George wanted, and it was what 
I wanted, too.

"Hey there," a voice stopped me on my way to the locker room. I turned. He was in his 
twenties, tall, handsome and cocky. I was flattered.

"Hi," I said, my voice husky from my workout.

He wanted me. I was old enough to be his mother, yet his cock bulged huge in his shorts. I 
licked my lips.

His hands roamed over my biceps, shoulders, and large, firm-again breasts. I grabbed the 
back of his head and kissed him fiercely, dragging him into the women's room. He stripped 
my sweat-soaked suit from my body, revealing muscles flexing under my glistening skin.

"Wow," he said in awe, fingers tracing the firm swells of my muscular arms and shoulders. 
I was breathing hard. What was I doing?

Goddammit if George could go see his fucking slut college girl for a quick squeeze I 
could...I could...I could what?

His fingers traced around my thick erect nipples. I moaned. Jesus it felt good. My sex-
starved body cried out for contact, reassurance that I was indeed sexy again.

"You're so goddamn sexy," he breathed. What was his name? "So pretty, too. Wow."

I had to stop before I got lost in pleasure..."Oooooh God," his fingers pinched my nipples 
how was this happening what was I doing no he wasn't George I loved George stop!

I shoved him away and picked up my clothes. "I'm sorry," I said to the would-be stud. I 
turned around, suddenly ashamed that this total stranger had seen my bare chest. My God 
what had I been doing?

His hands grasped my shoulders firmly and tried to reach around to fondle my breasts 
again. "Look, I'm sorry, this is a mistake," I said, slapping his hands away. "I think you 
should leave."

He grabbed me hard and whirled me around to face him. I looked at him a bit scared. He was 
taller than me and aggressive. What was he going to do?

"I'm not gonna leave, hon. You want me. I know you do. Come here."

What the hell did he think he was doing? He was going to rape me in the middle of the 
women's locker room?

The gym was nearly empty. He probably could. My breath quickened in fear. "I'm really 
sorry I gave you the wrong impression. I lost my head for a minute. P-please, just leave," 
I said as firmly as I could.

"No," he said, advancing with a predatory smile. I pushed him again and he slammed hard 
against the wall. We both paused, surprised at my strength. He advanced again. "I was 
gonna go easy on you, bitch, but if you want it rough..."

Shit! Oh my God. George help me! Nobody was there, I had dragged a man into the empty 
locker room to fuck him, to cheat on my husband oh God! Now he was going to fuck me and I 
didn't want it but that didn't seem to matter now.

He had me backed against the wall near the sinks. I panicked. I drew my arm back and 
punched him hard in the face. His head snapped back and he staggered into the opposite 
wall. I quickly walked over and kneed him hard in the crotch. He tried to hunch over in 
pain but his head bounced off my broad shoulder. Now it was me who had him backed into the 
wall. I realized with a thrill that my arms were much bigger than his, and his legs looked 
like twigs next to mine. He realized it, too. He looked at me with tear-filled eyes, a 
newfound fear on his face.

I drew myself up. He wasn't that much taller than me. My big breasts stuck out proudly. I 
remembered my college days, when I was strong and aggressive. I wouldn't have taken any 
shit back then. Why should I now that I was even stronger?

I stepped back and punched him in his stomach, my fist easily tearing through his 
abdominals. His body was designer-toned, I-go-to-the-gym-three-times-a-week-to-stay-fit, 
no match for my naturally strong body and year of dedicated bodybuilding. He doubled up. 
His hair brushed against my nipples felt good. I was getting hot beating this shit up!

I stood him up and let him have it again. I pumped my fists into his middle, feeling it 
get all soft and bruised. "You like it rough?" I asked, fists demolishing his stomach. He 
started coughing up blood. It landed on my sweating chest.

"I think you like my tits," I said. This felt good! I loved beating this asshole. He 
thought he was going to rape me? Fuck him! I pulled his head into my breasts, crunching 
his nose against my armored pecs. He gasped, trying to breathe, but my sweaty fleshy 
breasts pressed against his nose and mouth. He struggled weakly as I suffocated him 
against my chest.

He tried to rape me! He didn't deserve to get off so light. I was really pumped now, 
deliriously thrilled by my own strength. What was it George wrote about? The demolition of 
a man? Here was my chance!

His blood was warm and sticky against my chest. I pulled his face out of my breasts and 
looked at the red stain, grinning madly. "I think it's time for a hug," I whispered to my 
would-be rapist. I grabbed him around the chest, easily lifting him into the air. I 
squeezed my arms into him. He babbled in fear and pain. I ignored him, ignored his 
pathetic struggles, and concentrated on squeezing. My nipples were hard against his chest. 
He liked my tits, well, now he could feel them!

My biceps were pumped now, thick and veined like on some of those fitness models. I pulled 
hard, my arms burning, trying to squish him flat. I heard muffled popping sounds and 
realized I had broken a couple of his ribs.

His body slumped to the floor. I stood over him growling, fully pumped. I tore off my 
sweatpants, revealing my workout thong. I flexed my huge thighs for him. His eyes were 
glazed in pain and he looked up at me, afraid. I kicked him. He yelped.

Hmm, squashing his head...I had to practice on someone so I didn't go too hard on George. 
I grinned down at the pathetic little shit. I hadn't been so aggressive in years...it was 
wonderful.

"I'm going to crush your skull, you miserable little puke," I told him. "I'm going to 
squeeze you and crack your head right open." I stalked around him, quads dancing under 
tanned skin. It scared me how good I was at taunting him, and how much I wanted to do what 
I described. I felt invincible!

"I'm sorry," he moaned.

I laughed nastily. "I'll bet you're sorry now. That's not good enough. I'm a one-man 
woman, shithead, and you're not him!" I lay down next to him and snuggled his head into my 
thighs. He was shaking in fear. "I'm not all bad, though," I said, stroking his face. "At 
least I let you feel my tits and legs!"

I clamped my thighs around his ears and started squeezing. I hooked my ankles together, 
straightened my legs, and poured it on. A burning sensation started in my calves and 
thighs and moved its way into my crotch, making me wet...I understood what Christine felt 
now, I had never been powerful enough to hold a man's life at my whim before! I realized I 
could crush this asshole to death. I could do what George's stories described. I could 
kill.

He deserved it. I should! I would save other women from him probably, this rapist 
asshole...His bones were grinding in my thighs. It felt good. His body jerked around, 
struggling to escape. I clamped down harder, harder, crushing his jaw, feeling the bones 
snap in my thighs. I had never imagined I could enjoy doing this, but God it felt good...I 
threw my head back and bit my lip, eyes glazed.

How did Christine stop herself? I felt like squeezing until my thighs met. I could. His 
skull creaked, dangerously close to splitting. His struggles stopped. He was unconscious. 
I could make him never wake up! My fingers stroked my pussy, feeling my inner thighs 
pulsing into his head, crushing, destroying...feeling his blood splatter on my thighs...

I came hard. The jerk's body seemed to dance on its own as I thrashed about, squishing his 
head in my huge thick legs.

I finally unclamped. Oh shit! I got carried away. Oh no, what had I done? I looked at his 
head, swollen and misshapen but thankfully not flattened. He was breathing. Good. I calmed 
down. I hadn't killed anybody. I wouldn't go to jail, wouldn't be separated from my 
George.

I began to laugh hysterically. I was shaking. I came too close to killing him! I would 
have to watch my power. I was glad I practiced on this jerk, at least I hadn't done this 
to George! I knew my own power now.

He would wake up with a few broken ribs, maybe a concussion. Anger rushed back to me. That 
wasn't nearly enough. I had to beat him thoroughly. I wanted him to never touch another 
woman.

I curled up behind him and wrapped my arms around his chest again. I slowly and 
methodically broke every one of his ribs. I was barely conscious that I was humping his 
butt as I did that. I felt so hot and horny!

I wrapped his legs in mine and flexed, enjoying the crackle of his bones, the ease with 
which I snapped his legs. I did the same to his arms. I was tremendously strong! Strong 
like George wanted! I could finally be his fantasy.

I left the broken man in the locker room for someone else to find. I think I punctured one 
of his lungs. Good.

Oh God I was horny. I went home and waited for George.

* * * * *

I kissed George when he walked in. His eyes widened in surprise, then pleasure. He wrapped 
his arms around me and kissed back. His tongue entered my mouth for the first time in 
ages. His hand strayed down to my firm ass. He squeezed it.

"Wow," he breathed. "Who are you and what have you done with Dana?"

I put a finger on his lips and smiled at him. I was prettier now, too, my cheeks no longer 
fat. I had finally hit my stride and reached true mature beauty. He looked at me like he 
hadn't seen me in ages, the realization of what I had done just dawning on him. Months of 
my body subtly changing had passed nearly unnoticed, but my new aggression opened his 
eyes. He saw what I had become.

"I need to talk to you later," I said and danced out of his embrace. I went to cook 
dinner.

He couldn't keep his eyes off me at dinner. He longed to know what I was hiding under my 
clothes, what I had changed my body into while he wasn't paying attention. After we 
finished eating we just sat looking at each other lustily. He was the most handsome man I 
had ever seen, all dressed up, slightly greying hair. I tingled. He was mine!

I slowly unbuttoned my shirt and took it off. He gasped as I revealed my upper body. His 
eyes strayed over my breasts, bigger now than they had been when I was younger, and much 
firmer than they'd been in a long time. A wondering smile slowly came over his face.

I stood up and took off my sweatpants. I was in front of him in only my black thong and 
bra. I smiled shyly at him. His eyes were delighted, a child at Christmas.

"I did it for you, George. I did it all for you. Do you like it?" I asked. Suddenly I felt 
very vulnerable standing there, wondering if I hadn't made a huge mistake. I was old; what 
if he still didn't find me sexy?

"Oh honey, I love it!" he said in an awed whisper. He came over and hesitantly touched my 
arms. I smiled encouragingly. He ran his hands over my biceps and shoulders, down over my 
pecs, fingers sliding lightly over my breasts and down my abs. My skin tingled where his 
fingers touched. A fire burned deep in me.

"I want you, George. I want you so much," I whispered. "My darling George. You've kept 
yourself fit and handsome for me. I'm so sorry I let myself get fat and ugly. You deserved 
better. I always wanted to be pretty for you. I changed my body for you. I want you to 
want me."

"I do, I want you, oh God I want you!" he said. He hugged me close to him and kissed me 
deeply, passionately, with more feeling than he had in years. I felt his erection poke 
into my hip.

I did it! He was hard for me. He wanted me.

"This is amazing," he said. "I never imagined...You did this for me? I...I thought you 
didn't want me anymore. Last time--"

I shushed him. "I know, darling, I know. I was stupid." I grasped the front of his shirt 
and ripped it open, sending the buttons flying. I did the same to his undershirt. He 
grinned at me. I ran my hands over his chest, trailing my fingers over his nipples.

I slowly took off his shoes and removed his pants and boxers. I kneeled in front of him, 
his dick poking against my lips. I opened my mouth and took him in, sucking hard, the 
technique coming back to me now, sucking the way I knew he liked it. I gave my husband the 
first blowjob in ten years. He moaned and thrust his hips, pushing his dick deep into my 
mouth. My soft lips and tongue slid along the shaft in long, smooth, rapid strokes.

"Oh God, this is amazing, stop, honey, I'm going to cum," he said. I always made him warn 
me since I had never wanted him to cum in my mouth. He remembered after all these years!

I knew he wanted to cum in my throat, he had always wanted to, and I had never let him. He 
was warning me now, giving me a chance to pull out. Christine was right; he is a truly 
special man. I've always known that.

It was time. I ignored my revulsion at the thought of him spurting into my mouth and kept 
sucking, pulling him deep, his knob bumping into the back of my throat. "Oh honey I'm 
sorrryyyy," he moaned and spewed into me. I involuntarily swallowed. He kept erupting, 
shooting load after diminishing load into my throat. I sucked hard and greedily swallowed 
it all. I liked it! My God what had I been afraid of? His cum coated my throat, sliding 
down into my stomach, hot and slick. It burned in me, a hot glowing wonderful sensation.

His knees grew weak. I quickly stood and caught him before he collapsed. I let his head 
snuggle against my huge firm breasts. I kissed his hair.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into my breasts. It was the first time he'd ever cum in my 
mouth.

I rocked him, surprised at how light he felt in my arms. "I wanted to darling. You warned 
me like you always have. I wanted to swallow for you. I know you've always wanted me to do 
that."

He stood and ran his hands over my body. His erection subsided in jerky stages. "You're 
amazing. After all these years, why? Why now?"

I arched my back in pleasure as his fingers caressed my muscles. "We've grown apart, 
George. We've become...comfortable...with each other. I didn't like that. I miss the 
passion we used to have. You've always been so handsome. I wished that you would want me 
like I want you. I decided to become your fantasy. After I met Christine I knew how I 
could do that."

His fingers stopped. "You talked to Christine?" he asked. He looked at me guiltily.

I laughed. "Yes, I did. Don't worry, I'm not mad. I know why you go to her. But I have a 
few more surprises in store for you."

I lifted him up and carried him to the living room, dropping him onto the rug. I sat down 
on top of him and wrapped my legs around his neck, then rolled to my side with him trapped 
in my thighs. "First, a few rules," I said. He smiled at me. "One," I tightened my thighs 
around his neck until he gurgled. "I get to squeeze you whenever I want. I've discovered I 
like it. Two," I squeezed until he couldn't breathe. He started to purple. "I never want 
you going to see Christine again. She's a sweet girl, but she's just a girl. I should be 
more woman than you can handle anyway." He nodded, struggling to breathe.

"And three," I said, tearing off my panties and moaning, snuggling his face closer to my 
pussy. "You will eat me right now! You'd better be good, because if I am displeased I 
might decide to just let you suffocate in there. There's no way out."

I maneuvered his face against my pussy so his lips and tongue were braced against my 
labia. I hooked my ankles together and started crushing. "Now lick, hubby, and make it 
good!"

His tongue ran over my sensitive labia and clit. He thrust it in harder, spreading my 
pussy lips, licking my pink flesh. I writhed on top of him, involuntarily squeezing harder 
and harder with my thighs. Muscles flexed and solidified, crushing his head in my 
inescapable leg embrace. He cried out in pain. "Keep licking," I growled, jolting my 
thighs harder around his skull. I loved this. I hadn't been eaten in far too long.

I looked at his crotch. He was getting hard again! I took his cock in my hand and slowly 
jerked him off while I scissored his head. I felt bones grinding. I flexed and crushed his 
head brutally hard. His body jerked. I loved controlling him like this. He loved it, too. 
My handsome man.

I moaned and writhed in pleasure. His tongue felt good...I came hard, mashing my pussy 
into his face and squeezing dangerously hard around his skull. I tried to control myself, 
remembering my strength, but squeezing felt so good, bringing me to a mind-blowing orgasm.

My huge legs unhinged around his poor abused skull. He was purple and unconscious but 
unbroken. I reversed myself and snuggled up next to him, caressing his hair and waiting 
for him to wake up. I lifted his body, still surprised by how light he felt, and snuggled 
my big legs around his middle, gently pulsing.

He woke up looking into my smiling face. He shook himself groggily and smiled at me. "Hi 
darling," I whispered, stroking his handsome face.

"Jeez that was great. Wow. I can't believe you...thank you Dana. My beautiful wife."

I laughed. "My darling husband." I kissed him slowly, a warm lingering contented kiss.

My thighs tightened around his middle. "I'm not done yet. I'm going to get even bigger. I 
want to be huge and muscular just for you. I'll be ripped and buff and those little 
fitness models won't know what hit them. I'll join competitions if you want me to. I can 
be huge. I can be your fantasy."

He kissed me. His eyes looked into mine, warm and brown and loving. "You are my fantasy, 
honey. I love you. I've always loved you."

"I know," I said. "I just needed a little reminder." We lay there snuggling in each 
other's arms. "I love you."

I haven't told him about my little encounter in the gym. Maybe I will someday. Maybe not. 
A girl's got to have her secrets.

Our fire burns brighter than it ever has. It's amazing what you can start from one little 
dying ember.