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Subject: {ASSM} {EZ} Janet's Return (MF Rom Slut BD)
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Date: Sat,  1 May 2004 16:10:02 -0400
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This work was originally published at www.ruthiesclub.com in
2003.

The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for
adults in locations where it is legal.  If it is illegal in your
location, DO NOT read.  This is a copyrighted work.  Reposting or
any other use strictly prohibited without the express, written
permission of the copyright holder, except may be posted as part
of a  review or posted to free-access, noncommercial archive
sites.

Copyright 2003 by E. Z. Riter.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

The works of E. Z. Riter are archived at www.asstr-mirror.org and
www.storiesonline.net

The works of E. Z. Riter writing as Ezra Zane as archived at
www.ruthiesclub.com, the web's premiere illustrated erotic pay
site.

Please!        Give me your comments!

Many thanks to Ruthie for editing. Good reading. E. Z.


JANET'S RETURN

By Ezra Zane

Janet and I divorced last summer, ending a romance that began in
junior high and a fabulous twenty-five-year marriage that
produced two wonderful children. At the end, something happened
and I didn't know what. All I knew was she insisted we divorce
and I had no choice except to agree.

She kept the big house in the suburbs and I bought a swinging
bachelor pad in the city, which seemed appropriate since I was
forty-seven, reasonably good looking, in excellent condition and
health, and made damn good money. The guy who sold me the house
was about thirty and getting married. He needed to buy a house in
the suburbs with his new bride. Ironic, isn't it?

The place was small and on a small lot, but it had a private
oasis perfect for romance in the backyard. The grass and
shrubbery had been removed and the yard covered in a wood deck
with a gas barbeque grill and glass-topped wrought-iron table in
a near corner, a stately live oak tree in a far corner, and a
remote controlled sound system to bathe the backyard in music for
ambiance or for dancing. A six-person hot tub with a soft rubber,
radiantly-heated mat on one side dominated the yard.

My favorite place for sex is outdoors and I bought that house for
its backyard. I'd chill some wine, play some soft music, and
serve an appropriate dinner. If the lady preferred something
stronger than wine, I kept a supply of quality liquor and
top-grade grass on hand. A beautiful night, rich ambiance, and
fine food and wine usually got the ball rolling. If the lady said
she didn't have proper attire for the hot tub, I provided her a
bikini from the stock I kept. We'd have some good conversation
and nature would take its course.

Each lady I entertained was unique and interesting. They knew the
dinner invitation included sex when they accepted and they were
looking forward to it, but most of them wanted to be romanced and
play the seduction game. That's not a problem because getting
there is half the fun. When they realized sex was outdoors, a few
readily accepted. Most reactions ranged from embarrassed giggles
and red faces to a flat "no fucking way," although she, too, gave
in before the night was over.

All of them checked out the situation. Some did it openly,
prowling the backyard like a bloodhound. Others were more
circumspect. They all discovered what I knew. Despite the
proximity of other houses, no one could see in my yard.

Like most newly divorced men, I began a sexual odyssey pursuing
everything in a skirt, seeking quantity rather than quality. Any
day without a woman in my house, I'd feel was unsuccessful. But I
quickly found two ladies to enjoy on a regular basis.

One of them was Connie Simpson. Connie was a tall,
thirty-eight-year-old childless divorcee and professional woman,
a business friend who asked me out when she heard I was getting a
divorce. She wanted what I wanted - great sex without commitment.
Sex with Connie was excellent. She lost herself in it and told me
that it flushed away the worries of her world. She wanted
something else, too, and she brought it up one evening as we were
sitting in the hot tub sipping wine. She sat her glass on the
side and slipped into my lap with her legs outside mine.

She put her arms around my neck and whispered, "I like it when
you hold me down."

"I noticed," I said as I stroked her back.

She blushed brightly and looked away shyly. I don't think I'd
seen shyness in Connie before. She hemmed and hawed, getting out
a few words only to blush and start over again. I put my thumb in
the point of her jaw and lifted her head until her eyes were
bound to mine. I held her that way until she relaxed and her
expression said she surrendered.

"You want me to put you in bondage?" I asked.

"Yes, but I can't risk anyone knowing, Mike. It would destroy my
career," she gasped.

"If you didn't trust me completely, you never would have
mentioned it."

"I do trust you, but I'm frightened. I've never done anything
like this, but I want to."

"And discipline?"

"Oh, God, yes."

"I'll discipline you, too-as much as you want."

"That's what scares me. I know I want a lot."

"I have some bondage equipment in the house. Do you want to start
now?"

"Yes, Mike."

My ex-wife Janet and I played bondage games and she enjoyed it
even more than I did. Being restrained was her favorite part. We
didn't do public humiliation and no one but me knew we played
those games. Connie made me realize I deeply missed sexual
domination of a woman, so I planned to take Connie as far as she
would go. That first night with her was simple. I used leather
restraints to bind her wrists to the headboard and played with
her body until she begged me to let her orgasm. We progressed
rapidly after that. In her professional world, she managed a
staff of fifty and held a high-paying and responsible position,
but in the little world of my house and yard, she craved abject
submission, which I provided.

I was trolling in a local hot spot one night when I found Becky
Ashford. She was a twenty-six-year-old school teacher out for a
night with the girls. She told me she was single, but a few dates
later told me she was married, her husband traveled, and he
didn't mind if she stepped out a few nights a week. The three of
us met. Becky's husband was relieved that I was an older guy with
no intention of stealing her away from him. At his request, she
limited her stepping out to me. We even arranged for a threesome
a few times.

By April, my routine was Connie and Becky once or twice a week
each, someone else a night or two, and a night or two by myself.
I enjoyed spending some quiet evenings alone. I'd make a light
dinner before relaxing nude in the hot tub listening to the
classics, sipping wine, and reading a good book. That's what I
was doing one night in late April when the phone rang.

"Hi, Mike. How are you?" She tried to make her voice light and
happy, but I knew that voice only too well and I heard the
tension there.

"Fine, Janet. How are you?" Did she hear the tension in mine?

"I'm fine, too. Thanks for asking." She started talking about the
children. I knew that wasn't the reason she called but as her
words tumbled out I replied appropriately, letting her run down
rather than building the conversation. "So," she finally said and
there was a pregnant pause. "Are you dating anyone special?"

"They're all special, but I'm not dating anyone exclusively," I
replied.

"Good," she said. "How about coming to dinner?"

"You mean like a date?"

"Yes. No. Well, something like that."

"Why?" I wasn't being coy or combative. I hadn't seen or talked
to Janet since July and I tried to get her out of my mind. Why,
in the name of hell, did she want to see me now? More cogently,
after she dumped me so brutally, why did I want to see her?

"I miss you," she whispered.

"Oh?"

"God, Mike, say something besides 'oh'."

"You've caught me off guard and, frankly, I don't know what to
say. It's been a long time since I talked to you."

"I know and I'm sorry. So terribly sorry. I'm not asking you to
forgive me, but can we talk? Please."

"And say what?"

"Anything that comes to mind. I'd like to know about your life
and I want to tell you about mine. I want to tell you why I
divorced you."

I didn't answer, but I did want to know why she threw away a
quarter century of married bliss. And I did want to see her in
spite of part of me screaming to keep her out of my life.

"Please, Mike, I need to see you," she begged.

"I'd like to see you, too," I replied.

I heard a sob as she murmured my name. "Then you'll come?" she
asked hopefully.

"I want you to come here and I'll cook for us. And bring your
swim suit. I've got a hut tub in the back yard."

She emitted her husky, sexy chuckle that I hadn't heard in years.
"Oh, Mike. Outdoor sex?"

"If you like."

"Like? You know I love outdoor sex. I love sex with you anywhere.
When do you want me there?"

Two days later, my stomach was in a knot like a teenager on his
first date. Juanita, my maid, had told me I was crazy and I
probably was a little off-center, but I wanted everything to be
perfect. Dinner was simple: cold lobster and shrimp salad with
Louie sauce, freshly made bread and real butter,
thirty-dollar-a-bottle chardonnay, soft music.

I told her to dress casually. I wore a pair of loose nylon
shorts, a white tee-shirt outside my shorts, and Docksiders with
no socks. When the doorbell rang, my anxiety level went sky-high.
My hand shook as I turned the knob.

When I saw her, my heart stopped and my mouth fell open. She
looked terrified, but when she saw my expression, a wide, sexy
leer flashed on her face. Quivering with excitement, she stepped
into me, gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and pranced into the
living room to pose and let her new appearance sink in to my
addled brain.

I'd known Janet all my life. I could close my eyes and see
exactly what she looked like at any age. Flat chested and
pigtailed in the third grade. In her first two-piece suit after
she entered puberty. On my parents' bed when I took her
virginity. Groaning and sweating as our children came from her
into this world. My brain held a million pictures of her,  but
I'd never seen her like this.

Janet's hair had been various colors over the years from raven
black to medium blonde, but it had always been long. Now it was
short, sassy, and white blonde. She wore a black patent leather
micro mini-skirt that covered about ten inches from her hip bone,
matching halter top, and matching knee high boots with very high
heels. She wouldn't have gone to a costume party dressed like
that when she was married to me.

But the biggest change was in her body. Her belly was flat and
hard, her waist narrow, her ass high and firm, and her breasts
were huge. Obviously, a plastic surgeon had worked his magic in a
lot of places. And a piercing artist had been busy, too. There
was a diamond in her navel. She was a forty-four-year-old mother
of two, but she looked like a thirty-year-old sex-pot ready for
action.

"Like what you see, handsome?" she asked glibly.

"Yes, I do indeed."

"If you see something you want, don't ask. Just help yourself."
Her blatant sexual offer was accompanied by a wanton legs-open,
breasts-out stance. In the blink of an eye, her expression was
honest and open. "God, it's good to see you," burst from her. She
blushed from belt line to forehead. Face anguished, she turned
away and her hand brushed her cheek.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"Sure. Could I have a drink?"

"Is chardonnay all right?"

"Don't you remember?"

"I remember, but I thought that might have changed," I said
defensively.

"It's still wine."

"The wine is cooling out back. Come on. Let me show you."

"Oh my, Mike, this is lovely," she said as she walked into my
little paradise. "Do you use it much?"

"Every day if the weather's good."

"For sex?"

"Almost every day."

"You've been busy," she said. I shrugged and busied myself with
opening the wine. "Can any of the neighbors see you?"

"Not unless they bore a hole through a fence," I said.

"Remember Colorado?' she said.

"Of course."

"My God but I was humiliated when they caught us. And aroused."

I stopped short. She never admitted that being caught "in the
act" aroused her, but I always thought it had. I handed her the
wine glass.

"To life and love," I said, touching my glass to hers.

"To love," she whispered and her big blue eyes shone up at me
with love and desire.

My secret wish, the one held deep in my heart to be nourished and
treasured, was that she would come back to me. Now she was here,
but for how long? And why?

We sat and talked, or rather I sat and Janet prowled, nervous as
a cat. I'd seen her this way before and it meant she was
suffering horrible anxiety that made her emotions swing from one
extreme to the other. We talked about our children, family, and
old friends as she quickly consumed three glasses of wine, which
was about her limit.

"Another, please." She held out her glass.

"What's eating on you?"

"Nothing." We both knew she lied. "May I have another glass of
wine?"

I poured it and she mumbled a thank you, downed the wine, and set
the glass on the table. She sprang to her feet, strode across the
small deck, and stared into space before returning to stand
before me like a frightened little girl, wringing her hands and
shaking.

"I didn't get a divorce because of you, Mike. You didn't do
anything wrong. Never. You were the best husband any woman could
have." She slowly fell to her knees and her hands were clasped as
if in prayer. "Don't hate me, Mike. Please don't hate me."

"I don't hate you. Just tell me what's going on."

"May I have another glass of wine?"

"How about some good grass?" I asked.

"Only if you promise me we can have sex later," she replied with
a sexy shyness.

Weed made Janet mellow and blew away her inhibitions. I promised
the sex, but that wasn't the prime consideration. Getting her to
talk was.

When I suggested she sit in a chair, Janet replied, "I'll stay
here if you don't mind." I handed her the pipe I use outdoors
because the water from the hot tub ruins a cigarette. She took a
deep drag and held her breath. When she exhaled, she seemed
calmer. She knee-walked between my legs until her face was a few
inches from my crotch. For the first time since she arrived, I
felt the old familiar twitch.

"Remember when you used to tie my hands and I'd kneel between
your legs and suck you?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"I like being bound with your cock in my mouth. I've missed that
with you, Mike." With her eyes closed, she took another deep drag
and held her breath. For some reason we stopped our bondage games
a few years ago. As I watched her there, old hot memories flooded
me and my cock wormed its way down the leg of my shorts.

She exhaled, took another drag without opening her eyes, handed
me the pipe, and slid her hand under my shorts. Her fingers
wrapped around my cock and it jumped in her hand. She smiled and
slowly exhaled.

"I've missed Caesar. Can I taste him?" she murmured, calling my
cock by the old nickname she gave it in high school. We were
taking Latin when she started sucking me. Somehow, she made a
connection and the nickname stuck.

I raised my hips and she pulled my shorts off. Her eyes already
showed that diffused, slightly red look that good grass brings.
She smiled as she wrapped her fingers around my cock and took the
head between her lips.

Janet was fifteen when she first went down on me. She hadn't
given me her virginity yet, which would happen about seven months
later, but we were well into mutual masturbation and she had
jerked me off and taken my cum on her breasts several times. One
night, we were in my Dad's car on Lovers' Lane and my cock needed
relief.

"I hope you like this, Mike," she murmured as she lowered her
head to my lap. I was ready and it didn't take long. The force
surprised her and she jerked back to take most of it on her face
and hair. Her eyes were wide and her mouth open in astonishment.

"You're supposed to take it in your mouth and swallow it," I
teased as I reached for my handkerchief.

With one finger, she gathered a string of cum from her cheek and
stuck it in her mouth. "I like it," she said. She blushed
brightly. "I hope you liked it, because I want to do it again."
Janet did love the taste of cum and she was always a willing and
eager cocksucker.

"What are you thinking?" Janet asked as she looked up at me in my
back yard.

"About the first time you sucked my cock."

"I love Caesar, Mike, almost as much as I love you. I always
have. May I have the pipe again?"

She took another big hit and rubbed my cock against her cheek as
she held her breath. When she exhaled, she said, "This is good
stuff. I'm flying already."

"Finish me and then we'll talk," I replied.

"Fuck my face," she said.

I stood and took her head in both hands. Her blue eyes shone up
at me as enjoyed the feel of her hot mouth and the warmth of the
outdoor air. There is something special about outdoor sex -
something visceral and primal with the wind's touch on your body.

Janet sucked me like she had for years, with one hand around my
cock and the other between her spread legs to play with her
pussy. She liked cuming when I did. She sweated and twisted to
orgasm as I pumped her mouth full of my cum. When I slumped back
in the chair, she stayed between my legs sucking me gently as my
cock softened. Then she lay back and put her leg in my lap and I
took off her boots.

Her shiny, bloated pussy was winking at me. Some things had
changed there, too - no panties, not a hair in sight, and metal
gleaming dully in the evening light. Her face reflected my
surprise. She smiled wanly and unfastened her halter revealing
her new bounty complete with golden rings through each nipple. In
seconds, she was naked and slipping into the hot tub. I filled
our wine glasses and joined her.

"No more grass?" she asked as she took her glass from me.

"Let's talk."

She nodded and sighed. "The reason I wanted to talk to you is
because I love you more than anything, more than life itself, but
I walked away from you and I did it in a dirty and cruel way. Now
all I can do is tell you what happened and beg you to take me
back."

I wanted to scream for joy, to fall on my knees in thanks, but I
didn't. "I want to hear what you have to say," I replied.

She was calm now as the wine, grass, and sex worked their magic.

"I'll tell you everything you want to know, and I promise I won't
hide anything, but for now I'll give you the condensed version.
You know that I'm submissive and you're dominant. That's probably
one reason we fit together perfectly and why we both enjoyed our
bondage games. Do you remember when you bought me the new
computer and insisted I take lessons?"

"Sure. It was your forty-second birthday present. You never
really got into it."

"Oh but I did. I took the lessons and spent hours playing with
it. I was going to surprise you with my skills. But something
else happened. I stumbled into sex on the web. I found a master.
It was a game at first, an invisible game played from the safety
of my home, but then I agreed to meet him. He took me down some
dark paths and I loved it. I broke up our marriage and made these
physical modifications in myself at his command. I have lived as
his sex slave since I left you."

"Sex slave?"

"Yes. Sex slave and all the term implies. Would you like
details?"

"Yes, but later. Have you left him?"

"I have. I told him I was returning to my husband, if my husband
would have me. I told him I was going to beg for your forgiveness
and enslavement."

"You want me to be your husband again and to be ... your master?"

"Yes, I do. I'm begging you to take me back. Please, Mike,
please."

A man doesn't live forty-seven years without knowing himself and
he doesn't know a woman for forty years or live with her
twenty-five years without knowing her. In a way, I blamed myself
for her leaving. I'd thought back over our last year together a
thousand times and there were signs that suddenly made sense. I
should have been more aware of her. Maybe I was too occupied with
work. Maybe I took her for granted. Whatever, I did, I wouldn't
do it again. Janet was back and I'd never let her go.

"If I am to be a master, I will be one."

"Oh, I hope so. I need that, Mike. Truthfully, if you had taken
me further in my servitude to you, I never would have fallen to
someone else."

"Do you want to be a 24/7 slave?"

"If I had my wishes, I'd be your wife again and your slave when
we play, but I'd like more play and harder play than we did. But
I don't have any say in it. I'll do whatever you want."

"I'm in two strong relationships. I think one is about over. I'm
keeping a wife happy while her husband is out of town, but he's
in line for a promotion. If he gets it, he won't be on the road
so much and I'll see less of her."

"And the other?" she said.

"She's a good woman and a good friend. We don't love each other
and we would never marry. It's not that kind of relationship.
It's sex only, but we both enjoy it. I won't break it off."

She smiled knowingly. "If it's sex play and I'm your wife, I
don't mind you having her. A good master deserves more than one
slave," she said. "What's she like?"

"Smart, professional, classy, and she loves submitting."

"What will she think of you having two of us?"

"We'll find out. Now lie face down on the deck."

Her face was radiant with sunshine as she lay face down with her
arms folded under her head. I lay beside her, letting my lips and
hands feel her skin, my nose capture her smells, my eyes caress
that body I loved so many times, but that was new to me in many
ways. Janet's ass always jutted out with a petulant insolence
demanding attention but it, like all of her, was now more
muscular and shaped by workouts.

"Did your old master require extensive exercise?" I asked as I
ran my fingers down the back of her legs, feeling them tremble.

"Yes, Sir," she replied.

"It will continue and we'll have extensive rules to govern your
life, but we'll discuss that later," I said. "Roll over."

Her eyes were soft and loving, with a dreamy, wet look as she
smiled up at me. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you," I replied and kissed her gently on the lips.

Janet's breasts had been larger than average when we married, but
diminished because she nursed our children. Now they were high
and larger than before. I examined them carefully, eliciting
moans from her. I tugged and twisted on the rings and she
squirmed. They'd lost none of their sensitivity. My hand trailed
over the hardness of her belly to stroke her naked pubis.

"All you permanently bare?" I asked.

"Yes, Sir," she replied.

Tattooed on the bareness of her lower belly was a red rose with
the word "slave" bannered below it. A gold bar glimmered in her
clit hood and a gold ring was threaded through her left labia.

"I like the changes he made in you," I said.

"Thank you, Master," she replied.

"You don't have to call me that."

"But I want to sometimes. May I?"

"Yes, you have my permission."

"Thank you, Master," she said with a giggle. "May I ask a favor?"

"Yes."

"I'd like another tattoo. One with your name."

"We'll get it done."

The day was ending. Sounds of cars and people laughing and the
intermittent hiss of a bug zapper floated into our little world.
The ambient lights of the city cast a dull glow in the night sky,
but the full moon was bright over the horizon.

Movement caught my eye as the neighborhood cat bounded over the
fence. I didn't know its name or where it lived. It appeared
nightly to forage the remains of dinner on the table and to watch
the humans copulating. I wondered what tales it could tell.

I heard ambulance sirens on the way to a hospital, but all was
right in my little world in my back yard. Janet was back. I
crawled on top of her and she guided me into her. I was home. Her
face was joy and tears pulsed from the corners of her eyes in
rhythm to her heart. A tear of mine fell on her cheek.

"Welcome home, Baby."

The End

Please give me your comments! Mail to: ezriter@hotmail.com 

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