Keywords: 05, Ch., Suburbia,
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Do your worst." He started the stopwatch in his wristwatch and with that, Mena was off, gliding up and down on Marcus' shaft. Marcus did his best to keep still; no other woman he had ever had sex with (or would ever have sex with in the future) could hold a candle to his wife; they were both masters of sexual technique, each complementing each other's knowledge. She tortured him every way she could think of; rubbing his chest, sucking his nipples, whipping him with her hair, even scratching him ever so lightly behind the ears (the last two moves being two of his biggest known weak points). Still, although the look of sheer ecstasy on his face might not have said the same thing, Marcus would not allow himself to climax. "Hmm... you're doing good," Mena noted, "but let's see how you handle this." She began to ride him harder now, her tits bouncing up and down before Marcus' eyes. His mouth was watering; he wanted nothing more than to suck on her nips until she came, but he would have to wait his turn.
Mena looked at Marcus' watch and saw that seven minutes and 27 seconds had passed. She was pleased that he had held out for so long, but it was time to crush his resolve. She turned to face away from him and lay flat on her stomach. She spread her legs as far as she was able, leaving Marcus of a clear view of her ass and pussy, which she was expertly working his boner in and out of. Marcus swore to himself in three different languages. His wife had the perfect ass, and any sight of it was enough to make him cream his pants. He struggled to retain control, and was successful for several minutes before he unleashed his torrent into his wife's body. He called for the time once his breath had returned to him. She reached around and read the clock: "11 minutes, 9 seconds. Good job," she said with a wink. "Now it's your turn... how do you want me?"
"Spread-eagle... you called me out, now it's time for you to pay," he answered with a devilish grin.
"Ooh papi, make it hurt so good," she hissed as she assumed the requested position. "Ready?" she asked as she took the stopwatch.
Marcus licked his lips. "I'm ready when you are."
Holy fuck... Mena thought; she knew exactly was he was about to do. She hit the start button and said, "Go!" With the motion, precision and sensitivity of a drill bit, Marcus aimed the tip of his tongue directly at his wife's clit. Her eyes almost popped out of her skull; nothing made her climax so hard it literally hurt, than a hard tonguing at her most sensitive spot. Every other part of her body was seemingly numb; all she could feel was the slightest amount of his flesh assaulting her to the point where she would give anything to make it stop, and twice as much to make it continue. She came rapidly and violently, her entire body lifting up off the bed, with Marcus extending his relentlessness until she dropped back down to the mattress.
Marcus stood up and observed Mena. She was breathing heavily, her eyes were watery and welded open. She slowly released her grip on the bedspread, and there were some small tears from where her nails had dug so deeply into it. Her rigid body began to relax as the orgasmic cacophony inside her own mind ebbed, and the first words out of her mouth when she finally did speak were, "Have I... told... you lately... how much..." Suddenly she sat up and threw a pillow at Marcus before completing her thought: "of an asshole you are?!"
Marcus couldn't help but laugh. "I may be an asshole, but I'm a victorious asshole."
"Dammit..." Mena sighed as she got back on her feet. She couldn't believe he was actually going to make her cook tonight, but she had made the bet, and summarily lost. "So, what do you want for dinner?" she asked as she put her robe on.
"You can't be serious... did you really think I was gonna hold you to that? Get some clothes on; we're going out."
"What? Then why'd you make that bet?"
Marcus sighed annoyingly. "Does it really matter, woman? Get dressed!"
"Aww... you really are the world's greatest husband," Mena said, throwing her arms around him and giving him a peck on the forehead.
"I thought I was an asshole," Marcus retorted.
"Oh, you are, but you're my asshole," Mena said sweetly as she dug into her closet. She chose one of her more 'housewife'-ish outfits and, for a contrast in styles, threw a leather vest of Marcus' on over her shirt.
"Did I give you permission to wear that?" Marcus asked her when she came downstairs.
"You didn't have to; I took it," she replied sarcastically.
"Oooh... your ass belongs to me when we get home."
"Well what about the rest of me?"
"I got that on lock too."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," Mena egged him on. Marcus merely sighed. He did indeed have something special in mind for her once they got home. Hopefully she wouldn't be expecting it, although she knew full well what her usual punishment was for such insolence.
Marcus drove through the Philadelphia streets and parked in an underground garage in Center City. There was a park nearby with a fountain in it, perfect for a romantic walk and necessary in the first part of his 'revenge.' One of their favorite restaurants was nearby, which was Marcus' intended destination. Once inside and seated, Mena noted something: "Remember our very first date here?"
Marcus smiled. "Yeah, I do. It was when we were on leave right before Iraq, and you came home with me to meet my family."
Mena laughed. "Your aunt had tried to cook something, but she end up leaving it in the oven too long-"
"Oh god," Marcus choked out in the midst of a laugh. "It was so overcooked it was disgusting, whatever it was."
"Then you mentioned this place-"
"And we came and ate dinner here."
"And what else?"
Marcus rubbed the wedding band on his left hand. "I asked you to marry me."
"And here we are, almost three years later."
"I know... I can't believe our third anniversary is only three months away."
"It's the deployments... they make the time fly by."
"This is true enough... but soon enough, they'll all be over. In fact, you'll be out for our anniversary, won't you?"
Mena looked at a calendar in her cell phone. She would indeed be out of the military by the time the date in question arrived.
"I guess I should... wait a minute, is that who I think it is?" Marcus asked, looking toward the door over his wife's shoulder.
"Who's who?" She turned around as well, and recognized another bandmate of Marcus': Dorian Jackson, traveling with a sizeable group. "Hey, DJ!" Mena called out. The young man who her attention was fixed on looked around bewildered for a moment until he saw Mena and Marcus sitting together. He excused himself from his group and sprinted over to their table, careful to duck and dodge any traffic on the floor. "Marcus, what is up, man?" he exclaimed, hugging his buddy.
"I've been doing good... living in Suburbia now. We own a house out there."
"Ah, out in the 'burbs, huh? I ain't mad atcha." He turned to Mena. "And how have you been, Sergeant K? Still holding it down in the sandbox?"
"Yes, but don't call me that; I'm on leave now, you can call me by my first name."
Dorian chuckled. "Well then, Meredith, Marcus, I'll be seeing y'all around, I hope?"
"Of course. You should come by the house one day before I have to go back," Mena invited. "In fact, have you heard from Vega since he got out?" she asked. Astacio Vega rounded out their band.
"Actually, I have. He's working for a biomed firm here in the city. I've got his phone number if you want it."
"Yeah, let me get it; I doubt he'll mind," Marcus responded, asking for DJ's as well. They exchanged numbers and hugs, after which Dorian returned to his group. The couple finished their meal and paid their bill, giving Dorian one final salutation before leaving. They walked back through the park and sat on the edge of the fountain. Mena snuggled close to Marcus. "It's such a beautiful night out," she purred.
Marcus agreed. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and there was a calm breeze blowing. Marcus put his arms around Mena, who still didn't suspect anything was amiss. She was enamored with the romantic setting, which was abruptly changed when he dumped her in the fountain! She surfaced screaming and swearing at the top of her lungs, while Marcus merely laughed triumphantly. "I told you your ass was mine; now let's go home before you get sick."
The entire drive home, Mena refused to say a word to Marcus. When they got home, she immediately exited the car and stormed up onto the porch, waiting for Marcus to come and unlock the door. She heard his footsteps end right before he should have come up the steps.
Oh shit, she thought, my jeans are still wet...
Suddenly a gunshot echoed throughout the block. Mena stood on the tips of her toes, cringing in pain. Marcus smirked as he unlocked the door and walked through it. Mena tiptoed through, her posterior in too much pain to do otherwise. Once she was inside and the door was shut and locked, all that could be heard was Mena yelling, "You SON OF A BITCH!!!" Marcus was already upstairs. "Once again, I told you your ass was mine!" he called out before shutting and locking a door. Mena peeled her wet clothes off and left them in the laundry room. She went into the bathroom and examined herself. The whole of her left asscheek was red with Marcus' handprint. That was her standard punishment when she sassed Marcus: a firm swat across the rear. And by god, could he smack asses. He smacked harder than anyone she had ever met. And Natalie liked being spanked during sex, and spanked hard, so she'd met her fair share of ass-slappers; none of them could hold a candle to her husband, though.
Mena rubbed her hand across her now swollen ass. The pain was gone; whenever she touched herself, she felt the power and the dominance of her hubby that had wrapped her around his finger so long ago. She ran her fingertips along the edges of Marcus' handprint and felt her sex get moist.
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Keywords: 05, Ch., Suburbia,