My Wife is No Longer My Lover Ch. 05

### Susan Jill Parker -- John wants Kathy to blow him ###

"Kathy, please. Please blow me. I beg you," he said looking up at her with a crazed look on his face while holding his erection in his hand. He stared down at himself while stroking himself before looking back up at her. "Suck my cock. Blow me while I fondle your breasts and finger your nipples. I want to cum in your mouth," he said, as he always said so sexually excitedly. "I want to watch you swallow my cum."

Not even looking down at his erect prick and not even making eye contact with him, as if she was rejecting a pervert in the XXX-rated movie theatre, she slowly shook her head from side-to side. Interesting how she never rejected anyone at the XXX-rated movie theatre but always rejected her husband. Perhaps he'd have a better chance of receiving a blowjob if she met him there at the XXX-rated theatre and pretended that they didn't know one another.

Never relenting in her rejection of him, she had never given her husband oral sex. She couldn't count how very many times he said the same thing and in the same way. Instead of his words turning her on, his words turned her off. She looked at him with disgust instead of with sexual excitement. She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. She looked at him as if he needed psychiatric help. She looked at him as if he was some deranged pervert instead of her beloved husband and the father of her three children.

If she refused to blow him ten-years ago, twenty-years ago, thirty-years ago, and forty-years ago, she certainly wasn't going to blow him now. Perhaps if he was thirty-years younger and looked like one of the main characters in one of her romance novels or one of those nearly naked CFNM strippers on her 40th birthday party, she'd consider blowing him. If he was some young, hard bodied stripper stud named Apollo, Ryan, or Marco, he'd have had a better chance of her stroking his erect prick in her hand before taking his throbbing cock in her mouth. Yet no matter what he looked like and how disgusting she thought he was, if only he'd force her, she'd give him what he so wanted.

If he was as muscular as he was good looking, she may even allow him to cum in her mouth. If he had long, lush, flowing hair with a name like Maximus, Brock, Gunner, or Rocco that preceded and announced his entrance in a room, she may sexually desire him and even wanted him orally. If he looked like one of her fantasy men and told her that he loved her and couldn't live without her, she may even have the mind to swallow his cum. Only, no matter his name and what he looked like, for him to get what he sexually wanted from her, he needed to force her to have his wicked, sexual way with her.

Instead, this was gentle John, her husband of forty-five-years, who wanted her to blow him. He wanted her to suck his cock. This was sixty-seven-year-old, potbellied, out of shape, farting and burping man who wanted to cum in her mouth and watch her swallow his cum. This was a fat, disgusting, smelly, elderly man who wanted to give her a cum bath. He not only wanted to cum in her mouth but also he wanted to cum in her hair, all over her face, and across her naked breasts. Good luck with that.

Unless he pulled her by her hair, slapped her across her face, and forced her to her knees, just as her blowing him hasn't happened in forty-five-years, her giving him oral sex would never happen now. If only he'd force her, she'd do every sexual thing that he wanted her to do. If only he'd slap her ass hard, squeeze her breasts as hard as he could, and pinch her nipples, he's make her horny enough for her to want to have sex with him. If only he push her back on the bed, hold her arms, spread her legs with his legs, and mount her, she'd fuck him.

At the very least, maybe if he showered and washed his cock behind his foreskin really well before coming to bed and didn't smell of food, she might consider blowing him. Maybe if he didn't fart and stink up the room every night, she might consider sucking his cock. Maybe if he had lost some weight instead of gaining weight, she'd find him more sexually attractive. Maybe if his big, bloated, belly wasn't in the way of her seeing and finding his stubby, little prick, she may even consider him cumming in her mouth and her swallowing his cum.

Yet, even though she had sucked worse cock's than his, the imagined thought of her giving him oral sex made her sick to her stomach. Besides, once she opened that door, he'd always want her to blow him. Once she relented to his sexual desires, he'd want to have sex with her every morning and every night. It was better this way with her not giving him sex.

"I beg your pardon?" Without lowering her book, Kathy looked up over her novel at her husband in the way she did when working as a librarian and someone asked her a stupid question. "Me? Blow you?" She made a face as if she had bitten into something sour before returning to her book. "Sorry but I don't think so," she said from behind her book. "I don't suck cock," she said looking up at him to make another sour face. "I'm a good woman, a loving wife, and a kind and caring mother. I'm not a whore."

She waved her hand as if she was a famous celebrity moving a fan out of her way. Able to feel the heat of his gaze, he was in bed beside her staring at her. Returning to her reading, she ignored him in the way she had ignored him most of their marriage.

"Why not? Please blow me. Please suck my cock, Kathy. I want to cum in your mouth. I need to cum in your mouth," he said begging her. "Just once and I promise to never ask you for another blowjob again.

He was so pathetic. The more he begged the more determined she was not to give him what he so wanted. One would think that if she treated him like shit and insulted him, that he'd slap her. One would think that he'd drag her out of bed by her hair, stripped her naked, and force her to her knees that she'd give him what he sexually wanted. One would think that he, as her husband, would force her to blow him after being rejected so very many times. If only he did all of the above, she'd blow him no matter how fat and disgusting he was. She had sucked worst cocks than his in the XXX-rated theatre.

"Don't hold your breath while waiting for that to happen, John, because that will never happen," she said returning to reading her book again and without even looking up at him. "I'd never blow you. Sorry, but I don't suck cock," she said lying.

If only he knew how many cocks she had sucked and how many men ejaculated in her mouth, in her hair, all over her face, on her clothes and across her naked breasts, would he be surprised. If only he knew that there was a time in her sexual life where she'd not only stroked any man but also would suck any man who forced her, what would he say? She had stroked and sucked dozens of men, perhaps, hundreds of men. She swallowed enough sperm to create a man sculptured from semen.

Perhaps hoping he'd get angry, angry enough to force her, she closed the top of her nightgown to deny him any more down-nightgown views of her naked, modest breasts. As if she wasn't there in the room and in bed with him, he continued playing with himself. He stared at her while stroking himself as if as if she was a porn star and he was watching a porn movie. He stared at her while stroking himself as if she wanted to watch him masturbate.

As far as she was concerned, with him no longer caring about his personal appearance, he was such a fat, disgusting, smelly slob. As far as she was concerned he was a depressed man with suicidal thoughts. The only reason why she was still with him was because he was father to her children. With her having known him for nearly 50-years of her life, leaving him would be like leaving her history behind. Besides, neither one believed in divorce.

With him still masturbating himself in bed next to her, instead of sexually exciting her, he revolted her. Now adding pervert to his description, if only she believed in divorce, she would have divorced his fat ass years ago. If only she had more self-respect and self-confidence in herself, she never would have married him in the first place.

"Give me a blowjob, Kathy. C'mon, please? I want you to blow me. Please, suck my prick," he said while still stroking himself with one hand and reaching beneath her book to cup her breast while fingering her nipple through her nightgown with his other hand. "C'mon, just once. Please? Suck my cock, Kathy. Suck my cock. If you blow me now, I'll never ask you again," he said again.

She hated it when he asked her to blow him. She hated it even more when he begged her to blow him. She hated it when he made her feel guilty that she wasn't doing her wifely duty. Yet, unless she didn't get the memo and unless that was part of her marriage vow to honor and obey, no one told her that she had to blow her husband. She brushed his hand away from her breast, climbed out of bed, put on her robe, and left the bedroom.

"You're crazy. How dare you ask me to do such a vile, disgusting, and nasty thing? I'd never do that," she said slamming the bedroom door shut behind her. "I'm not a whore. I'm not a prostitute. I'm your wife. I'm the mother of your children," she said raising her voice once she was safely in the hall and outside of the bedroom as she walked downstairs.

If only he knew how very many men she masturbated and allowed to cum all over her hand and clothes, he'd be shocked. If only he knew how very many cocks she sucked, he'd be sexually excited or murderously angry. If only he knew how very many men ejaculated their cum in her mouth and she swallowed their cum, he wouldn't believe it. If only he knew how very men had given her a cum bath, he'd think she was lying.

She wondered if she told him the truth and about the XXX-rated theatres, if she'd slap her, strip her naked, and force her to blow him then. She wondered if she told him the truth and about the XXX-rated theatres, if he'd divorce her. Too late to come clean now, what's done is done. Besides, if she told him the truth about her sexual past, he'd want her to continue stroking and sucking men while he watched.

### Susan Jill Parker -- John wanted Kathy to have sex with his friends ###

He actually wanted her and expected her to suck his penis. She wasn't about to put that dirty thing in her mouth. She was his wife and not some street corner whore, even though she used to be a cock sucking whore another lifetime ago.

Having heard them whispering and laughing in the library, some of the women today are proud of their oral sex skills. Different from how she grew up, some of the women today would rather have oral sex with a strange man after a first date than to French kiss a man they just met. She's not a prude but now that she was older, more educated, and thought more of herself, she had more class, dignity, and morals than to move to her knees and suck the prick of any man. Not lying about that, her way of keeping her sexual addiction in check, she no longer sucked cock.

With her a librarian and with there not a broad expanse between the two, she was much closer to the prudish decorum of a nun cloistered away in a convent than she was to the immoral immodesty of a whore. With her ex-best friend, Debbie, still a whore, a stripper, and a prostitute, even though Kathy had sucked lots of cocks, she still had class. Closing the door on her past, with her never allowing her husband to stick his penis in her mouth, she'd never allow him to ejaculate his seed in her mouth. She won't even allow him to see her naked.

Unless she was held against her will by Maximus, Brock, Gunner, or Rocco, stripped naked, and roughed up, she'd never blow any man. Unless a man invaded her home, tore off her clothes, slapped her around, and forced her mouth on his cock, she'd never blow him. Unless she was tied to her bed with loose, red ribbons, with rose pedals on the floor, and lit candles all over the room, she'd never allow any man, especially one who looked and smelled like her husband, to cum in her mouth. Now that she was thinking about being forced to suck cock, she missed her days of sucking the cocks of a multitude of men while they felt her naked tits and fingered her nipples.

Unbeknownst to her husband, her favorite movies were Death Wish with Charles Bronson, especially when hoodlums raped his wife and daughter. She couldn't count how many times she masturbated herself over that violent scene. Wishing that would happen to her, she watched Stanley Kubrick's Clockwork Orange over and again if only for the rape scene in the beginning where they invade a home and gangrape a woman in front of her husband. If only for the rape scene, she loved watching the movie, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

If only that would happen to her, violent men invading her house, she'd be so happy. If only that would happen to her, violent men forcing her to do dirty and nasty sexual things, she'd give the men all the sex they wanted. Wishing someone would tie her to her bed, as long as they didn't hurt her too much, she'd love nothing more than to be raped. She couldn't count how many times she imagined being raped while working in the library, while tending to her garden in her backyard, or while doing laundry in her cellar. Wouldn't her rapists be surprised that she wanted to be raped as much as they wanted to rape her?

"Oh, God, if only John knew that I need to be forced to suck his prick, he'd be so shocked," she said for no one to hear while reading her book.

She thought of some of the leading characters in her romance novels taking her and forcing her to have their wicked, sexual way with her.

'Oh, Maximus, take me. I'm yours. Oh, Brock, make love to me. I need to be fucked. Oh, Gunner, make me your woman. I need you to make me your bitch. Oh, Rocco, make me your whore. Hump my mouth and fuck my face before ramming your big, hard prick in my warm, wet cunt,' she imagined saying. 'Fuck me! All four of you fuck me anally. Fuck me in my ass.'

Unleashing the beast within her, her husband made her horny. Only, she wasn't horny for him. She was horny for someone else, anyone else. She had the urge to call for pizza delivery and answer her front door naked. While hoping that her next-door neighbors were watching her, she had the urge to garden in the nude. She'd love nothing more than to suck the cocks of the pizza delivery man and that of her neighbors' husbands.

"Stick your big, hard pricks in my mouth. I need to suck all of you. I need to blow all of you," she said while imagining stroking her fictional, romance characters, the pizza delivery man, and her neighbors. "Gangbang me,' she thought while imagining them gangbanging her and imagining her mouth and pussy dripping with their cum. "Fuck me. Fuck me hard and fuck me fast. Make me cum. Make me want and make me beg to be forced by all of you."

Only, nothing more than a sexual fantasy that her romance novels created in her mind, she'd never do anything like that, especially not now that she did all that extra sexual curriculum before. Having kept her sexual addiction under wraps and in control, now she was a respectable married woman with children and a retired librarian. The last thing that she wanted was for her sex addiction to return and for her to have the need to frequent the XXX-rate theatres again. Glad that chapter of her life was over, she was glad when they demolished those buildings years ago during the city's revitalization program.

Yet, no matter what the man looked like, just as she'd never blow or fuck any man, unless she was forced, she'd never have violent, gangbang sex with them unless she was forced. Even though she'd never do anything like that now, it sexually excited her to think that she would. It sexually excited her to think of being taken against her will, especially when she was taking a long, warm, bubble bath while imagining her being sexually and physically abused by a home invader. Just as her husband's constant masturbation kept his horniness in check, her rape fantasies kept her need to have sex in check.

* * * * *

Then, for a while there, years ago, especially when he had been drinking, her husband had temporarily lost his mind with his perverse, sexual lust for her. When at a barbeque, when it was just the adults, asking her his request when he was alone with her in the kitchen, he wanted her to flash their friends and neighbors her underwear. With her still an exhibitionist, something she'd always be, if only he forced her by pulling up her skirt and/or pulling down her top, instead of politely asking her, she would have flashed them all. Only, with him politely asking her to flash their friends and neighbors her underwear, that made her skin crawl.

Just so that they could have hot, private, pillow talk about what she showed them and what they saw of her later, he wanted her to part her knees to show her panties to the men sitting across from her. If only he knew that all that it would take for her to flash any man up-skirt peeks of her panties was for him to force her knees apart with his hands or with his foot wrapped around her ankle, she would. Yet, instead of taking control and forcing her, he politely asked her.

So that they could continue with their hot, private, pillow talk later, he wanted her to lean over them to show them her cleavage and bra. If only he knew that all he needed to do for her to flash her cleavage and bra with down-blouse views was just to stick a finger in her top and pull down, they'd both be happy. If only he'd force her to do flash them without asking her to flash them, she would. If only she was married to a better looking man, she may have allowed him his sexy, flashing fun.

"I beg your pardon? You want me to do what? Flash your friends and our neighbors my panties, my cleavage, and my bra? Sorry, John, but I'd never do that," she said looking at him as if she was sick to her stomach and as if he was drunk. "That's disgusting. You're disgusting," she said while hoping that he'd slap her, strip her naked, and force her to suck his cock in front of his friends.

Then, there were times when he tried removing her top in the pool so that she'd flash their drunken friends and neighbors her naked breasts. If only he had been more forceful and had ripped off her top, she would have emerged from the pool topless to show their male friends and male neighbors her naked breasts. There were the times when he successfully pulled down her tube top down and/or lifted up her bikini top in front of his friends. Purposely slow to react to make sure that his friends had a good, long look at her naked breasts, she pulled up her tube top or pulled down her bikini top to cover her nakedness while lambasting her husband.

"John! Oh, my God. I can't believe you did that. How dare you? I'm so embarrassed, so very embarrassed," he said while feigning her shocked embarrassment.

If only had had been more forceful when exposing her to men, she would have played along with him. If only he had pinned her arms behind her back, she would have allowed his friends to not only feel and fondle her naked breasts but also to suck her naked tits while she sucked their cocks. Only, he never played the game in the way that she needed him to play the game of humiliation and domination. For her to suck his cock and everyone else's cocks, he needed to force her to her knees, pull her hair hard for her to open her mouth, and stick their cocks in her more than willing mouth.

Instead of just taking her there and stripping her naked in the car, he even talked about them going to a nude beach. She couldn't imagine his fat body walking along a nude beach with her. If she wanted to go to a nude beach, she'd go without him. Yet, that kind of exhibitionism would reopen her whoring lifestyle. With her married with children and having worked a long career as a librarian, she was done with that salacious lifestyle, that is unless he forced her.