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From: theGreatxIam <max_wojtylak@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Anniversary Waltz #6 - Part 1/2
Date: Fri, 21 Mar 2003 07:10:05 -0500
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alteration is made to the body of the work. Copyright 2002,
theGreatxIam 


25 Years of Foreplay Is Just About Enough
Part 1 (of 2)
An Anniversary Waltz story
By theGreatxIam

Paula Oldham counted five reasons to be pissed, ticking them off
on her fingers. She would have gone higher but she needed the
other hand to haul her bag to the luggage cart.

One, she counted, starting with the most recent: The peach-fuzzed
limo driver called her ma'am. Ma'am was for old ladies. She
showed him who was a ma'am, grabbing her suitcase out of his
hand. It would have been a better idea if it weren't so damn
heavy.

Two was that exhibition she'd witnessed at the end of the
reception. How dare they? And on her twenty-fifth anniversary, no
less.

Of course, that was three. Twenty-five years of wedded -- well,
not bliss. But the quality of their marriage wasn't what pissed
her off. It was the simple fact that no one who has a
twenty-fifth wedding anniversary is ever going to be a young
woman again.

Try as she might, she could not hold back the forces of nature
without resorting to unnatural resources. No longer could she
boast that her blonde hair was all her own. No longer did all her
assets stay in their assigned places without artificial support.
No longer was her primary cosmetic goal seduction; it was frankly
camouflage.

Sure, she had done all her exercises and eaten right and all
that. Not an ounce of fat on her. But what was the use of looking
after your outsides when your insides were falling apart? Which
was four: that damn operation. Why didn't Teri need an operation?
She'd let herself get seedier with every one of her five kids,
but still she was in great health. Or Pete? The beating his last
ex-wife gave him should have been enough to put him in the
hospital for a month, and he had gotten skinny as a stick, but he
just kept shuffling on.

No, it was Paula who had to go under the knife. OK, the operation
was a success, but it wasn't fair that she should have had to go
through it at all. And it sure wasn't fair that she should have
to live by the doctor's orders.

Which was five: no sex. No sex! For three months. Was that doctor
insane? Or a eunuch?

So this lunatic doctor sentences her to three months without sex.
Which finally end on her anniversary night, thank you very much,
gods of irony. What good does that do her? After all she'd been
through?

You try explaining to a lover why you're putting yourself on ice.
Tell the truth? Yeah, that would do wonders for your sex appeal.
Guys do not want damaged goods. So you lie, and they have the
gall to not believe you. Or they do, but what difference does it
make, because in three months they'll forget you anyway.

And don't think it will do any good to offer other ways to
satisfy them. That just brings up more questions you don't want
to answer.

That was how crappy the last three months had been. No sex, no
lovers left. She was going to have to start all over again, and
she wasn't as young as when she could get guys just by winking.
Shit. She couldn't even seduce her husband. And she needed it
bad.

Paula slammed the bag onto the luggage trolley and straightened
up. Steve was still jabbering with the desk clerk. She made a
bee-line to a comfy-looking chair and plopped into it, crossing
her legs. That felt good, she thought. She rubbed her ankles,
continuing up her silky hose to her thighs, brushing aside the
bottom of her short, dark green dress before she remembered where
she was.

When she looked up, she caught the bellboy staring at her legs.
That felt good. He was just a bellboy, with emphasis on the boy.
But at least he was looking.

For that matter, she thought, so had the barely-an-adult stripper
in his barely-there costume at her barely-entertaining
bachelorette party the week before.

The guy, who said his name was Guy, was just about the only thing
that made the party worthwhile. Well, that and the booze.

Certainly not the company. Most of Paula's friends had gotten too
old to be fun, like saggy, baggy Teri. And the ones who hadn't --
they were even more annoying. Lucy, the mouse who grew up to be a
princess thanks to her husband's cash, was still dipping into the
money supply for regular tuneups. Her face was beginning to get
that wind-tunnel look and the birthmark she used to have on her
cheek was somewhere around her temple now, but all men noticed
was that her tits and ass were as perky as ever.

Since Lucy had modeled her makeover on the young Paula, she
produced a spooky Dorian Grey effect whenever they were in the
same room together. Paula did not appreciate feeling like the
dusty portrait up in the attic.

Bobbi Jo at least had the decency to age, but she somehow had
continued to add to her string of "proteges." The latest was an
Asian girl -- May Lin couldn't have been more than eighteen --
who had such an amazing rack on her small frame that you always
expected her to tip over.

It was Bobbi Jo who insisted on the bachelorette party, "just
like old times," but it was Lucy who arranged for the stripper
and offered the use of her home.

He was cute; Paula would give him that. Six-foot-three, easy.
Built, too, but not like those weird gym dandies who get so
over-muscled they look like Michelin Men. Guy had just the right
bulges -- in all the right places, as he proved when he finally
peeled off his Speedo.

Paula had been watching him watching her, and she took personal
credit for the condition of his cock when it bounced into view.

Since she felt responsible for his erection, it seemed only right
that she take care of it for him. Elbowing that tramp Lucy aside,
Paula pulled Guy to her and kissed his waggling cockhead.

That mix of firm and yielding, the way the bulbous head felt
against her pursed lips -- she'd missed that so much. She spent
several minutes just tasting his rod all over with licks and
nibbles before she opened her mouth and swallowed him.

Just like riding a bicycle, she told herself as Guy began to
moan. He soon tried to grab her head and fuck her mouth, but she
was having none of that. It had been too long. She wasn't letting
anyone rush her.

His moans turned into whimpers and his legs started to shake. He
begged her to get him off. But Paula just pushed him down to the
floor and knelt next to him, using everything she'd learned to
keep him on the edge.

Finally the scent of his passion got to her -- that, and the ache
in her jaw. She fucked him with the tight ring of her lips while
jacking him off at the base. He burst with a roar, splashing cum
into her mouth like a fountain. She let most of it drip out,
guessing Lucy would be delighted to clean him off.

She guessed right. But when Lucy brought his cock back and tried
to mount him, Guy begged off, saying he was too tired. He grabbed
up his costume and ran off to the bathroom to put on his street
clothes.

He didn't look too tired when Paula went back a few minutes
later, intending to slip him her phone number and an invitation
to call her in a couple of weeks.

She knocked on the bathroom door but got no response. It sounded
like the shower was running, so she went inside to slip her info
into his bag.

There was more than one silhouette behind the foggy shower door.
And to gauge by the groans that got louder and louder, whoever
was in there with him was getting one hell of a fuck. A fuck that
should have been hers, Paula thought.

She could make out enough from the fuzzy outlines to see that the
woman was wrapped around Guy, arms encircling his neck, legs
gripping his waist. He was standing straight and tall. Paula felt
her pussy grow wet and cursed her operation.

A hand shot out of the fog and slapped onto the shower door, palm
out. The groans were becoming shrieks. Paula was trying to
remember which of the women had been missing from the living room
when three things happened at once: The rest of the women
squeezed into the bathroom to see what all the noise was about;
the shrieks from the shower warbled into the unmistakable sound
of a woman in orgasm; and Bobbi Jo matched the volume with her
scream when she recognized May Lin.

Paula was so lost in the memory that she jumped when her husband
tapped her on the shoulder. "Room's ready," he said.

As she squeezed into the elevator with Steve and the luggage
trolley and the bellboy, she had a fierce desire to cup the kid's
ass and proposition him right in front of her husband. Of course,
she'd felt the same way about their driver, even after that
"ma'am." And about the 12-year-old she'd bumped into leaving the
reception. And two old bums they'd passed in the limo.


God, she thought, she was horny.

---- ---- ----

Steve's hand hovered over the bag of Fritos. An old movie, a can
of Miller -- he pulled his hand back and patted his gut.

It really was shrinking, he assured himself. Slow but steady.
Don't give up.

He grabbed a couple of rice cakes and a bottle of water from the
fridge. Sinking into his recliner, he promised himself he'd get
in a half-hour of exercise after the movie.

The doorbell rang. He grunted and got up. This was supposed to be
a quiet night. Paula had given him a lot of those. Yesterday
she'd been out all night at her bachelorette party; then it was
something about having to go out with Bobbi Jo to cheer her up.

Who was supposed to cheer him up? For that matter, where was his
bachelor party? The only thing he got to prepare for their
anniversary was the bill -- and it was a whopper.

In a sour mood, he opened the front door. He almost slammed it
closed again, but the woman outside held out a hand and caught
it.

Steve stared. "This isn't Halloween," he said. "What gives?"

The blonde in the nurse's uniform with the glittering silver mask
silently handed him an envelope. While he tore it open, she
stepped past him into the house, carrying a boombox.

"Happy Anniversary," the card in his hand read. "You didn't go to
a bachelor party, so it's coming to you, courtesy of your loving
wife."

He was still puzzling over the message when music began blaring
from his bedroom. He followed the sound.

As he walked into the room, the nurse grabbed him and pushed him
onto the bed. She stepped back and began to sway. The sway became
a dance. The dance became a strip.

His questions were ignored. The woman just moved to the music as
she peeled off her tight-fitting white dress to reveal a stacked
body in silky lingerie.

She wiggled her chest in his face a few times before taking off
her bra and tossing it in his lap. It landed on the rising bulge
in his sweatpants.

As the woman danced and jiggled, Steve couldn't get over the
impression that she looked familiar. That seemed unlikely. He
didn't know a lot of strippers. Well, not any.

With her tits bouncing, she was groping herself all over. When
her hand dove inside her panties, Steve almost came in his
shorts. This was getting way out of bounds, he thought. Paula
would never have set this up. He stood up to protest.

The stripper stepped forward and pushed him back down. An instant
later she had ripped off her panties. She was down to a garter
belt, white stockings, towering white heels, the mask and a
nurse's cap. Everything else was bare flesh.

She straddled his legs and pushed his back onto the mattress.
Steve tried to struggle, but that only allowed her to grind her
naked pussy against his crotch.

He tried to wriggle away. She grabbed hold of his waist and
yanked off his sweatpants and shorts. His cock bobbed in the air,
rock hard.

Before he could react, her lips were on his rod. He lost a lot of
his will to fight as he gave in to desire.

She sucked him deep. He closed his eyes and sighed. It didn't
take long before he was spurting hot jism down her throat.

She held him in her mouth until he got hard again. Quickly she
crawled on top of him, but he mustered his strength and pushed
her off. Scrambling off the bed, he grabbed a corner of the duvet
to cover himself.

"Get out," he said. "I'm a married man! I shouldn't -- you --"

The stripper plucked off her mask.

Steve gasped.

"Lucy!"

"Paula asked me to help you out," she said. "With her being --
out of circulation, so to speak -- I'm her gift to you. See, it's
all right. No risk, no mess. Don't you like your present?"

She was on her back, her legs spread. Steve was stunned. He
realized why her body had been so familiar. She looked like Paula
had when they were first married.

He hesitated. "Are you sure Paula meant --"

Lucy used two fingers to spread her pussy lips apart. "It was her
idea," she purred.

Steve yanked off his T-shirt and climbed onto the bed.

He poised over her cunt, ready to tongue her, but she pulled him
up. "I'm more than ready," she said.

His dick slid into her smoothly. They fell immediately into
rhythm, her legs spread wide to let him push all the way in.

When he kissed her, she tasted like sweet wine. Her tongue sought
out his lustily. Her nails dug into his back and they screwed
like cats in a sack.

It went on for an hour, rolling around on his bed. He ended up on
his knees behind her, gripping her tits as his balls slapped
against her flesh, burying his rod in her again and again.

They came together, a hot rush of cum squirting out as she
slammed her ass back at him.

Minutes later, as she was getting dressed, Lucy paused and
cleared her throat. Steve looked up.

"There is one thing I should tell you," she said. "About Paula
asking me to do this? That might not have been exactly true."

---- ---- ----

Paula tapped her foot impatiently. Where were the girls with her
gown?

She had not been thrilled with the idea of a full-blown ceremony,
anyway. Marching down the aisle and everything! But Suzy had been
so insistent -- "Please, Mom! You'll look great!" What had really
convinced her, though, was when she thought of having all her old
bridesmaids relive their roles, too.

The first time around, Paula had given in to their pleas and
selected bridesmaids dresses that were just this side of hideous.
In the years since, though, she herself had been forced to endure
more crinoline catastrophes than one woman could bear.

It had taken her weeks to find the perfect revenge dresses. Every
bridesmaid gown is designed to make even the ugliest bride look
stunning in comparison, but Paula had special needs: a bustle to
emphasize Teri's ass, puffy sleeves to draw the eyes away from
Lucy's chest, a high waistline to make it look like lanky Bobbi
Jo was on stilts. The floppy sun hats covering their faces were a
nice touch, but it was just the right shade of dead-frog green
that made them perfect.

With all the time choosing those dresses took, Paula pushed the
deadline on her own gown. No repeat for her, especially not when
her cleavage wasn't where it used to be. All the fittings had
gone down to the wire. It was an hour to the wedding and still no
dress!

She wrapped her dressing gown around her and went off to look for
something to drink. At least that would kill some time.

She didn't see them until she almost stepped on their bodies,
wrapped in a 69 on the kitchen floor.

One participant was obvious. Bobbi Jo's puff of frizzy red hair
was buried between some other woman's legs.  From the sound of
it, they were both enjoying themselves.

Paula was annoyed. Bobbi Jo had apparently gotten over her
break-up with May Lin quickly. But why did she have to get over
it on Paula's kitchen floor?

She stepped around the couple, who remained quite oblivious, and
snatched a bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge. Pouring a large
glass, she sipped and eyed the lovers, who were going at it so
enthusiastically that they were beginning to spin around the
floor.

The woman on the bottom looked vaguely familiar. It wasn't so
much the lush black hair, which was mopping her floor. It was
something about her technique.

Paula had some experience with muff diving herself -- even with
Bobbi Jo, she mused. She let her mind slip back over past lesbian
interludes. She knew she was torturing herself; when the doctor
had said no sex, she hadn't dared ask if there were certain
exceptions. So it had been a very dry three months.

Through it all, she had constantly had to battle her memories.
Just the sight of a name in her address book could send her into
a sexual funk, remembering old times.

The visions bedeviling her as she watched the kitchen coupling
had her locked in passionate embrace with one woman after
another. It had been a long time since the last time, though.
After she'd caught their nanny fucking her husband, she'd bounced
the chippie out -- at the sacrifice to her own sex life. Nanny
had been a good lover. Enthusiastic. Even agg--

Paula stomped over to the couple and heaved Bobbi Jo's legs
aside. An all-too familiar face looked up at her.

"Hi, Mrs. Steve," Nanny said.

---- ---- ----

Steve cursed and pounded the steering wheel. Cuff links! He'd
forgotten the damn cuff links.

He was already running late. No time to drive back to his son
Rick's dorm room and pick them up. He'd have to stop at home at
his way to the church and get another pair.

If he'd had his way and stayed at home in the first place, this
wouldn't have happened. But Paula's mom had gone on and on about
not seeing "the bride" before "the wedding." And Steve had
learned to be wary of Mrs. Noonan. A well-preserved widow with
money to burn, she tended to get her way.

She also tended to get in the way. And, sure enough, as he pulled
up to the house she was pulling in right behind him. Mrs. Noonan
ran up to him before he could get to the door, talking about bad
luck. His explanation about cuff links just drew a wink fromher.

"Sure," she said. "Cuff links. Don't fool me, mister. I know what
you're really here for. But you'll just have to wait for later."

"Mrs. Noonan," Steve said patiently. "Really, I need those cuff
links." He waved his hands in her face, sleeves flapping loose.
"See?"

She looked doubtful. "Well, you wait here, and I'll get them for
you. But don't move."

"Can I at least use the bathroom?"

Mrs. Noonan put her hands on her shapely hips. "All right. But
use the one off the garage -- and no peeking down the hallway!"

She followed him in and stood to watch him close the door. Steve
felt like he was under armed guard.

He zipped down and aimed. That was a relief.

He was shaking off when the door opened. Steve almost splashed
his rented tux. What the hell?

"Here, Steve," Mrs. Noonan said. "These should -- oh, my,Steve."

"Mrs. Noonan! Don't you knock?"

"Now, Steve, it's not like I've never seen it before."

She was right, of course, Steve thought with shame. He had tried
to wipe out all memories of that awful time he and Paula had come
so close to splitting permanently. He had been feeling
vulnerable, and Mrs. Noonan had seduced him -- much as she
appeared to be trying to do now, locking the door behind her and
advancing on him as she reached behind and unzipped her dress.

Her body was as he remembered it. Unfortunately so, because his
cock remembered, too, and stiffened. He couldn't stuff it back in
his pants.

Mrs. Noonan took off her bra and peeled off her pantyhose.  Steve
backed up but was stopped by the wall. There was nowhere to run.

He tried to talk her out of it, but she grabbed his cock and
began massaging it. Inevitably, it grew longer and harder. Steve
stood helpless as she dropped to her knees. If he made too much
noise, he might alert Paula. That could only make things worse.

His mother-in-law kissed the tip of his dick and teased it with
her tongue until pre-cum leaked out. She rubbed his cock on her
rouged cheeks, a sight so stirring that he had to bite his
knuckles to keep from groaning.

She had him so worked up that when she at last took him in her
mouth, he grabbed her head and held it as he pumped rapidly
between her dark red lips.

Soon he was gushing into her. She slowly licked him off. "There,"
she said, patting his crotch. "I knew what you really needed."

As she was getting to her feet, Steve dodged around her and made
his escape, unlocking the door and racing out of the house.

His next-door neighbor Fred was mowing the lawn as Steve jumped
into his car. As he pulled out, he saw Fred push the mower right
through the middle of a bed of petunias.

Crazy coot, Steve thought. Then he felt the breeze of the air
conditioning on his still-exposed cock. He glanced up as he
zipped and saw Mrs. Noonan stop just outside the open garage door
and throw her hands over her naked body.

---- ---- ----

Having had three months to work on it, Paula was proud of her
little adage: "Abstinence makes the mind go wander."

Her mind certainly was roaming off the tracks. She wasn't
completely nuts. That really had been her former nanny on her
kitchen floor, mouth to cunt with Bobbi Jo. Paula's old friend
had apologized for losing control with her new protege, yet the
two of them had made goo-goo eyes at each other all the way over
to church in the van.

But what about Lucy? She was strutting around like a peacock, and
the similarity wasn't just in the massive bow tacked to her
bustle. What was she so proud of? She almost smirked, and with
all that had been done to Lucy's face, achieving any kind of
expression took major effort.

Even her mother was acting strange. She'd walked into Paula's
room at home sporting what certainly looked like a glob of cum on
her cheek. Paula wondered if she was seeing things. Where would
Mom find someone to blow? All her boyfriends were back in Vegas,
along with the dwindling remnants of what should have been
Paula's inheritance.

But if she was seeing things, she was hearing them, too. Even
there in church, when she was waiting in the bride's room, she
could have sworn she heard a couple fucking. In church?
Impossible. It had to be a hallucination. Paula shook her head.
Three months of abstinence was definitely making her mindwander.

---- ---- ----

Steve was waiting in the little room at the front of the church.
He was surprised to realize he was almost as nervous as when
they'd been married for real.

That time, he thought, his problem had been not enough sex. He
grimaced as he remembered coming in his tux pants at the altar
and having to fend off Paula lest she notice the evidence.

This time around, it was too much sex. What if Paula somehow
found out about Lucy? Or -- he shuddered -- her own mother?

At least the last time he'd had Pete to calm him down. Why did
the old fool have to pick this week to get busted for major
possession? After all those early years when he ingested for
recreation, he gets arrested for the stash he used to ease his
pain.

Rick had been nice enough to fill in. He couldn't talk this stuff
over with Rick. Though the kid probably would have the answers.
Steve was proud of his son. Working on a master's degree in black
history, smart as a whip. Handsome, too.

Steve peered into the small mirror on the wall. There was a time
he'd considered himself handsome, too. Before the grey had crept
into his sideburns. Before those wrinkles had snuck onto his
face. He rubbed his chin and frowned. Experimentally, he pressed
his fingers to his temples and pulled back.

"Thinking of a tuck? Don't  forget, vanity is a sin!"

Steve turned, startled at the minister's voice. It took some
getting used to, after all those years of Rev. Michaels. It was a
shame the old guy had to leave, and after such a scandal.

His replacement, Rev. Garretson, was a good preacher, Steve
supposed. But he found it hard to get used to hearing sermons in
such a soft voice. Having a woman minister, and such a young one
at that -- it was just hard to get used to.

And she'd caught him at the mirror. He could feel his face turn
red.

She laughed -- she did that as softly as she spoke -- and patted
his shoulder. "I was just joking," she said. "Though I don't
think you should consider plastic surgery."

She lightly brushed the side of his face with her ebony fingers.
"Your face has tremendous character."

Steve preened, just a bit. It wasn't every day he got such a
compliment, especially from a woman so beautiful. Even in the
loose drape of her rainbow-colored robe, her very developed shape
was obvious. And  the minister's oval face was all sweeping
curves like a polished carving, eyes wide against the dark,
shining skin, all under a close-fitting cap of kinked blackhair.

He realized that he was staring, and she had noticed. "Sorry,
Rev. Garretson, I --"

"Call me Amanda," she said.

"Sorry, Amanda," he said. "I guess I'm a little nervous."

"That's why I came in," she said. "A little service I provide."

He blinked. "What?"

Her brown eyes twinkled. "Back rubs. Back rubs for bridegrooms. I
worked my way through theology school as a masseuse. Would you
turn around?"

Steve dragged his folding chair around and sat down. Amanda's
strong fingers dug into his shoulders. Hard knots of tension
dissolved under her touch.

She had him bend forward so she could take off his jacket and
reach the sore points on his back. Then she pulled him back and
returned to his shoulders. Steve's head rolled from side to side
as his muscles sang for joy.

"I see you like it," she said. "Great. I've been noticing you in
church. You look like you've had a lot of tension."

He moaned his "yes."

Amanda's talented fingers rode over his shoulders and down his
chest as she leaned close. He could feel her warm breath on his
ear. Her hands danced toward each other.

"Just relax," she said. "Let me do everything. I can tell just
what you need."

He was so relaxed, eyes blissfully closed, that he didn't realize
what was happening as her fingers began to undo his buttons. Even
when she pulled his shirt open and touched his bare flesh, he
thought with some confusion that it was just part of themassage.

Then her tongue flicked into his ear. Steve almost leaped from
the chair.

"Rev. Garretson!"

Her arms closed around him and she nuzzled his neck. "Ah, ah!
Amanda."

"Amanda," he said. "I don't -- oh!"

She had moved around to face him and lifted up her ceremonial
robe. She was stark naked underneath.

Her body took his breath away, and his resistance with it.

She helped him remove the rest of his clothes. He sat down again
and she straddled him, her pussy brushing his hardening cock. It
took only a little bit of massage before he was fully erect.

She rose just enough to fit him into position and then sank down.
Her tightness surprised and delighted him.

Her full lips pressed eagerly to his mouth and her full breasts
with thick, rubbery nipples squashed against his chest. She
started fast, banging away so fast that the metal chair squeaked
and shuffled across the floor until it was resting against a
wall. The chair back thumped into the wall over and over.

Suddenly the minister's back arched away from him and she mewled
like a kitten before changing to breathy howls.

After that she slowed down. She would rise up so that only the
very tip of his cock was snuggled in her wet folds, then
s-l-i-d-e down, letting his dick slowly penetrate her to its very
root.

Her technique kept him just this side of climax for agonizing
minutes before at last he felt release approaching. They moaned
in unison, closer, closer. Then the hot rush through his loins
and out into the minister's tight pussy, and the last tiny bits
of tension escaping with it. 


To be continued ...


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