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Opening the Gateway


The Second Adventure of the Anyone Couple

By Lupo_d


*Author’s note:  This story is the result of a suggestion from, and therefore is dedicated to, jane.  Let it be known to all, how grateful I am for her friendship, her virtuous nature, her inspirational qualities, and for being the best muse a writer could ever hope for.  My lady, my thanks.

She sat on the living room couch, drinking her morning coffee, listening to the sounds of the house and letting her mind wander.  The soft glow of sunlight streaming through the windows carried with it a warmth, not unlike candle light, a similarity that brought back in perfect detail that wondrous, magnificent night, now almost three weeks past, that had introduced an unbelievable new and enthralling element into her world.  She’d dreamed and fantasized for years about the things she’d recorded in her diary, hoping, but never truly believing, they’d ever come true.  She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them tight, a huge, satisfied grin erupting on her face.  She felt her body flush warm, and her nipples harden against the thick terry of her robe both at the memory of that night, and of the nights that had followed; nights that had proven to be more satisfying and fulfilling than even her wildest dreams.   Sometimes, she thought, real life can be better than the fantasy.  A giggle bubbled up from her toes, and she let it wash over her in girlish abandon, happier than she could remember being since first meeting the man who would be her husband, the man who had brought her hopes and fantasies to life.  It’s like having a second honeymoon, she thought giddily.  Only the honeymoon hadn’t ended, and today would see a continuation of the seemingly endless steam of new experiences and sensations born from the fertile and exceedingly creative mind of her husband.  With a smile, she corrected herself.  Not just my husband; my Master.  She laughed.  She’d called him that for the first time that night at the Windsor; she’d blurted it out as the shuddering waves of her sixth, and most explosive climax of the evening had crashed over her.  She’d moaned it, cried it, and sobbed it, thanking him over and over like a mantra, losing herself in the exquisite agony of her ecstasy. It had been the key to opening the door to unexplored pleasures and desires, and an escalation of the love and intimacy with the man she loved.  And a few surprises.  Like last night.

     She supposed she should have seen it coming, should have expected it.  After all, she’d been practically begging for it.  Something about the new diversity and scope of their sex life had somehow increased her sex drive, to the point where (to her at least) she seemed to walk around in a near perpetual state of arousal.  Horny didn’t begin to encapsulate the full extent of her condition, and while it wasn’t a cause for concern, it did make for some interesting side effects.  Like, for example, this uncontrollable desire to tease him incessantly.  At every opportunity.  And in as many ways as possible.  Which, of course, was why she had elected to wear the new leather jeans.  The ones they’d purchased, with a great many other items, the morning after that incredible night.


     Like many of the items they’d brought home, she’d never owned anything quite like them, always bowing to the tenets of practicality by asking herself, where would I wear them?  They fit her like a second skin, and she was still amazed at how sexy they made her feel.  To think I put off buying such things over something as trivial as practicality. My God, if I had only known what I was missing!  She laughed to herself.  Not to mention the effect they had on him.  She had tried them on in the store, along with several other items.  All of which we brought home, she thought with a giggle.  It had been the moment when she came out of the dressing room wearing these jeans (which had looked so innocent on the rack!), which burned in her mind.  It was the look in his eyes that did it.  She thought she had known all his buttons and just how to push them.  He certainly had never been boring, nor had he ever looked or acted indifferent when it came to her or their sex life.  Far from it.  But she had never before seen the look of unrestrained lust that blazed in his eyes..  More than lust.  Hunger.  She couldn’t remember him ever looking at her quite that way.  Her mind and emotions spun.  Uncertain.  Self-conscious.  Timid.  Flattered.  Brazen.  Sexy.  Amazed.  Aroused.  Definitely aroused.  To see the effect she, in these jeans, had on him, to have him look at her with such intensity, gave her a whole new outlook on their relationship, and her mind began filling with possibilities.  Delicious, wonderful possibilities.


     Some of those possibilities drifted in the back of her mind as she turned first this way then that, admiring the jeans in the freestanding mirror before her.  She loved the way they felt, and the way they smelled.  She luxuriated in the feel of the leather warming to her body, clinging, yet somehow feeling like a part of her.  She turned from the mirror and selected the leather bustier from the items arrayed on the bed.  Black, like the jeans, and constructed so similarly that they seemed to be a matched set, strapless, and complimented by the double row of eyelets and lacing down the center, it had immediately become one of her favorite new wardrobe items.  It clung to her in all the right places, and bared a teasing expanse of her midriff.  She hummed to herself as she laced it snugly, feeling the light boning in the sides gently compress her torso, giving her a feeling of closeness, a hint of minor restraint. It was subtle, but it still quickened her pulse.  She finished the outfit with the short, black, 5-inch spike-heel boots.  She gazed longingly at the patent thigh highs and their six-inch heels, but preferred the way the snug jeans clung to her legs and butt, now lifted and accentuated by the heels.   She stood a moment, staring, still finding it hard to believe what she was seeing.  It was her face looking back from the glass, and yet she almost didn’t recognize the woman in the image.  The woman in the mirror seemed to radiate sexuality; a confidence of self she knew she had possessed all along, but had never acted on. She had never allowed herself the freedom to express it.  She looked at herself now, and felt liberated and alive, reveling in the exhilaration of being.  A blending of the woman she had been, with the woman she saw in the mirror, to become more – to become the woman she had always been meant to be.  She felt giddy, and a bubbling laugh worked its way up from her toes to explode from her lips in peals of excited giggles that had her dancing and spinning around the room with uninhibited glee.


   Finally getting herself under control, she gave herself one last look in the mirror before tidying up the master bedroom.  Now it should be called the Master’s Bedroom, she thought with a blush.  Then she looked at the clock.  Ommigod!   He’s  due home any time now!   Almost before the thought was formed, she heard his key in the door.  Momentarily frozen, she shook herself, and did a rapid visual sweep of the room.  Everything was where it should be.  Nodding and uttering a silent sigh of relief, she headed for the door.  His voice, coming from downstairs, met her as she flicked off the light switch.


     “Hi hon!  I’m home!”   She heard the door close, and his keys as they landed on the entry hall table.


     “Be right there!” She called back.

 

     “No rush.  I’ll be in my study for a few – I’ve got a couple of things I need to finish, and a call to make, but I shouldn’t be long.”


    She heard him open the entry closet, the telltale creak of that bottom hinge giving it away.  Another creak, and she heard the thump as it closed.  She made a mental note, again, to shave the top of the door so it wouldn’t stick.


     She called down, “Can I bring you anything?  Coffee?  Iced tea?”


     “Iced tea sounds great,” he answered.


     “All right, I’ll go make some and be right there.”


     “ Okay hon, thanks.”  She listened to his footsteps on the wood floor as they passed beneath her and grew faint as he reached the back of the house.  She took an extra moment to steel herself, ran her hands anxiously down her thighs, and headed downstairs to see to her husband’s request. 


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