A Good Man’s Just Reward

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[revised 8/22/2017]

This story is just a little lighter than some of my others. It’ a one-off with new characters. Slightly more humor as well.

My husband is the greatest man in the world.

I’ve had that thought many times over the last eight years. I know it’s hyperbole but I believe it. The best father, the best husband and the best man there could ever be. He’s a giver. He moves through life with a quiet ease, always trusting in a kind word where others often resort to shouting and demands.

For example, he doesn’t hustle and con at his work. As a site manager for a large construction firm, everyone trusts him implicitly. They go to my husband for straight answers and simple solutions. He wasn’t promoted quickly but every step ahead he’s made has come from pure merit when he was right for the job.

He’s making pretty good money now. We were a two income couple for a few years and that was great but we always knew we wanted a family and now we have one.

Motherhood agrees with me. There was a time I was afraid it wouldn’t. When I was young, having children seemed like a scary burden. A way to ruin your life. It’s certainly true for a lot of girls. After all, I had plans. I wanted to be independent and successful. Hell, as a CPA, I still get calls from recruiters several times a year.

I’ll probably go back to that some day. It’s good to have money, for lots of reasons. But for now, there are more important things.

I caught myself staring at my husband, unconsciously rubbing my expanding belly under my sweatshirt. He was just setting down the grilled cheese sandwich he’d made for Emma, our youngest. Youngest for now, at least. She was wiggling in her booster seat and reaching for it as he cut it in half, diagonally. She squealed when she got her hands on it. Apparently mashing the bread in her fists was the thrill of a lifetime.

Ben, a couple years older, was studiously taking bites from his own sandwich all around the outside. Around and around it went in his hands, getting smaller and smaller. I saw that he had also bitten each of his baby carrots in half. The little guy likes symmetry, a lot like his father.

Seeing my husband with them made all my womanly instincts dance with joy. To be loved and to love in return. To be safe and happy. To have another life growing in me, so close to joining our family.

He treats me like a queen when I deserve it and sometimes when I don’t. He respects me as a partner in life and I trust him absolutely. And he drives the horny slut that lurks just beneath my skin wild on a regular basis.

Please excuse me. Like I said, all my womanly juices were flowing.

The kids were getting an early dinner because it was date night. It was just going to be dinner but we’d picked a pretty high-end place and planned to take our time. With my due date nearing, this was going to be our last time alone together for a while.

But right that second I had an urge to be alone with my man before dinner and before the babysitter arrived.

“Honey, come help me with my dress?” I asked as I tried not to waddle on my way to our bedroom. Ronald made one last attempt to salvage Emma’s sandwich but had to just leave her to shove the wreckage in her mouth by the tiny fist-full.

He followed me into the bedroom, I hope unsuspecting. I let him pass me and shut the door behind him. And locked it.

He looked at me with a questioning tilt of the head but with a glint in his eye. Probably a reflection of the gleam in mine.

At 5’10”, Ron’s just a little taller than I. Skinny without trying to be, what he lacks in muscle tone he makes up for in clean lines. I’ve always loved the way he looks in flat-front slacks and a button-down shirt.

But at the moment, those pants are in the way.

We locked eyes while I loosened his belt and lowered his fly. I knew his hot package would be twitching and swelling already.

I pulled down his pants and shorts and there it was, growing before my eyes. I pushed him back to sit on the side of the bed. I braced myself on his knees as I eased myself down to the floor.

This is probably a little sick but I caressed my belly as I knelt between his legs and peered up at him. “Baby needs some protein,” I said.

Not sure he liked that. He made a face.

He liked it a lot more when I slid his stiff meat into my mouth and massaged his head with my throat.

In my life, I haven’t always been a good girl. The forbidden and the inappropriate excites me. I may be a one man girl these days but I’ve given a lot of head to a lot of guys and I’m pretty awesome at it.

It helps that Ron lets me practice on him whenever I want.

Ron fed me that protein probably more quickly than he’d ever want to admit to anyone but it made us both happy.

I was still on my knees and could still feel the warmth of his seed in my mouth when the doorbell rang. Laura the babysitter was here.

The juxtaposition of events in that moment sparked a positively diabolical güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri idea in my dirty little head. Mr. Fantastic was going to really get a treat after dinner.


We’ve been in this house six years. I’m only thirty-three but already I’m beginning to view the passage of time differently. Six years doesn’t seem so terribly long to me anymore but in the life of someone like Laura, a lot can happen.

She was a little pixie of twelve when we moved into her neighborhood. The first time she babysat for us, she was fifteen. I can’t say we’re close but we’ve kind of been on the periphery of each other’s lives for a while now. And they have been formative years for Laura. She turned eighteen this year and has turned into quite a young woman.

She lives a couple blocks away and is the oldest of three. Because I’m younger (and so she assumes more hip) than her mother and not a family member necessarily obligated to blab her secrets, she has come to me a handful of times with the kinds of questions young women of her age have. I’ve tried to be open and supportive with her while not contributing to any kind of delinquent behavior. Of course, my personal bar for what is acceptable behavior isn’t necessarily the same as everyone else’s.

For the record, at her age, I was never reckless and I had high standards. But I liked attention and had virtually no shame so I managed to have a string of educational and exciting adventures with carefully selected partners.

I was slightly heavy as a teen but always carried it well. I started watching my diet in college and managed to reign in a slight over-abundance of curves. But when I had been heavier, it hadn’t been an obstacle to gaining boys’ interest. I had all the parts they were interested in and they stayed in the right places.

When I see Laura now, it almost frightens me what she must do to the young male libido. The girl was cute when she was younger; at eighteen she’s exactly the kind of hard-body I used to hate.

I let Ron do up his pants and go greet the sitter while I dressed without help. After all, I wasn’t exactly stuffing myself into something slinky.

When I returned to the kitchen, what I saw was very interesting. Ben was unwrapping a Little Debbie oatmeal cookie and Ron was trying to clean Emma up. There was cheese and grease everywhere.

Laura was watching my husband. There was a look on her face that was instantly recognizable. The naked appreciation of a female for a male.

Exactly what I wanted to see. In the last year or so, I’d seen that look in her eyes more than once and each time for my husband.

She didn’t know I was there yet so while she stared at my man, I appraised her. She was in a light gray pull-over with a loose collar but it hugged her chest and waist closely. One red bra strap was visible and I think it was one of the thick, slightly padded bras. It made her look bigger than I knew she was but hid the actual form of her breasts. I always thought that style made a girl look unintentionally frumpy.

Her blue jeans with some rainbow stitching on the pockets and waistline looked like they were absolutely painted on. I could tell she was wearing bikini-cut panties with just a glance.

Laura’s hair had been every color possible over the years we’d known her. She was currently wearing it straight, letting an old blond dye job fade at the tips while most of it was her natural mahogany color. Honestly, I thought it was a bit unfaltering; the two-tone look didn’t work.

She noticed me with a start and smiled uncomfortably at me. She probably didn’t realize just how lustfully she’d been looking at my man but she knew she’d been staring. “Hey Christi!” she said, covering her fluster. “You look nice. Just a few weeks left, right?”

My third pregnancy was going well and I felt pretty good. I was wearing the one nice maternity dress I had; I first bought it when I was carrying Emma and determined not to be a shut-in. It was eggshell blue with layered ruffles at the bodice and lots of room beneath. If there could ever be a combination between a cocktail dress and a muumuu, this dress approached it.

Ron was pretty focused on Emma still. I wandered across the kitchen and closed on Laura. She was relatively tiny; about 5’1″ I think and trim like a gymnast. I happened to know the only athletics she’d ever been involved with was swimming several years ago but some people are just blessed genetically. Of course, lots of people looked good at her age; who knew what her future held. Laura’s mom was no taller but quite a bit wider.

At any rate, I was almost a head taller with her in sneakers and I in two-inch heels. I got rather close to her, close enough to very definitely look down at her. I ran my gaze up and down her body. I’m not sure exactly what my eyes showed right then but Laura went very still and shrunk down just the tiniest bit.

“Thanks, honey. You look good too. Seems like you’ve got a better body every time I see you.” güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri I don’t think I’ve ever called her honey or dear or anything like that before.

Laura was looking very conflicted. I don’t think Ron had heard my comment. He was gathering Emma up and carried her off to the bathroom with Ben following.

When I was sure Ron was out of earshot, I backed away just slightly. “Any new notches on your bedpost, sweetie?”

As I said, Laura had come to me with a few questions over the years and a couple of confidences. I knew she was no longer a virgin. In fact, I knew the name of the boy who had plucked her flower. And the name of another boy she’d allowed between her legs after that.

But I’d certainly never quizzed her about her sex life before. I knew my behavior was going to freak her out just a little; I wanted to see how much she’d squirm or if she would squirm at all.

She took a moment to gather herself but answered with a steady voice. “I’ve seen Tommy a couple more times. It’s getting better I think. A little.”

Laura was a bit let down by sex. She was sticking with boys her own age, sensibly enough, and they were failing to light off firecrackers. She’d come to me with some concerns. I’d told her she needed to be patient and that there was a bit of a learning curve for everyone. That her experience was typical.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” I began, leaning a hip against the kitchen counter. “If you’re not too attached to Tommy, maybe you should find someone a little older. You know, just to make sure you’re doing it right.”

She blushed then. “I don’t love Tommy or anything. But I trust him. I wouldn’t be safe with just any guy.”

It was practically the perfect answer. Both to show her own good sense and for my own purposes. “Yeah, trust is important. You can’t open yourself to just anyone.” I heard my husband and children returning. I passed Laura and walked into the living room, reaching for my bag and wrap. “Maybe try to think of someone a little older you’ve known for a while and trust. And who you’re attracted too of course.”

I looked up and down her body one more time. “It goes without saying, you can seduce any man you care to.” I did place just the slightest emphasis on the word man. To differentiate it from boy.

Laura was a bit jittery for the rest of the short time before Ronald and I left. I saw her shy away from my husband twice and she kept wiping her hands on her thighs.

As we were leaving I asked her, “Your folks are out of town, right?”

She had Emma in her lap paging through the TV menu looking for a movie or something. “Yeah, they took the brats to the lake for the weekend. I’m just glad to get a break from them all.”

I patted Ron’s butt as he passed me out the door. I don’t think Laura caught that, curse the luck. Don’t think Ron knew what to make of it either. “Remind me to make sure Ron walks you home tonight. Don’t want you entering a dark house alone.”

Ron was lingering patiently on the porch. “Sorry to ruin your Friday with this. Really appreciate it.” Laura made a dismissive wave with her hand. But still, I made her a promise. “We’ll need to find a way for Ron to make it up to you.”

They both gave me such odd looks as they puzzled through my wording.

A seed had been planted. I was already making plans on how to nurture it.


By this time, you probably have a notion of what I was planning. Especially if you’re reading my tale in the kinds of places it’s likely to show up. There’s a few things I want to get out of the way.

Ron and I do not have an open marriage. We don’t swing or share or live any kind of “life style”. We’re comfortable with each other and trusting and we have shared many fantasies. We don’t pretend to not notice other people of the opposite sex and will tease each other from time to time about who each of us has the hots for.

…. subject…. object. I guess that would be whom each of us has the hots for.

So, we don’t have a history of spouse sharing but it’s never been absolutely off the table. More of something we liked to joke about and get a little hotter thinking about.

I know that Ron can get just a little self-conscious about being attracted to teens. I have no problem with it but he doesn’t want to be a leering creep. Well, I mean, I don’t want him to be that either; if I thought anything about my husband made anyone uncomfortable he’d hear about it, I can assure you. But I have a hard time imagining the man I love ever doing anything to make another person feel unsafe or weird.

All that being said, Laura was a hot, tight piece of ass and I’m dead certain Ron had noticed. And though I may be a bit biased about my man’s hunk-factor, there was no mistaking the looks Laura had been giving him.

So I didn’t think the mission I had set myself for the night would be much of a challenge.


Ron and I tease each other about sex and hot members of the opposite güvenilir bahis şirketleri sex quite a bit. I won’t say I don’t have a jealous bone in my body but I have no trouble separating the abstract from the immanent.

On the other hand, I already mentioned how touchy Ron is about “jailbait” and I usually bite my tongue when it comes to things like the neighborhood teens spending all summer in bikini tops and short shorts.

Tonight though, I was going to make him squirm in the best way possible.

“My god, wasn’t Laura’s little ass amazing in those jeans? I swear I could see her pores. And read the label on those little panties.”

That definitely made Ron uncomfortable. He didn’t deny noticing said attributes but he sidestepped the subject. “Something like that can’t be comfortable. You ladies really don’t have to do that you know. Men are going to notice no matter what a girl wears.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh please, you all drool over that stuff. Right, I know, you don’t think you do but you don’t see the look in your own eyes. We see the looks and we get off on it when we’re the target.”

Ron drove silently, probably trying not to think of the babysitter’s fine ass. I went on. “I’ve tried to explain to you before what makes a girl feel sexy. We wear the clothes for you but that’s just a means to an end. What *I* get out of it is the thrill of knowing I’m the sole focus of someone’s attention.”

“We love to be admired and wanted. We know it means you’re hard for us and that makes us so wet and so jumbled feeling inside.”

Ron’s hands were tight on the wheel. “It’s a good thing you already swallowed my load, dirty girl. Talk like that can make us late for our reservations.”

I smiled at him innocently and let a couple more minutes pass in silence. But then I piped up again. “Shame about the bra though. I need to have a talk with that girl. The padding does nothing for her; she needs to show her shape.”

I gently stroked my husband’s thigh. “But you know what they look like, don’t you? I don’t think she put on a shirt all last summer. She’d outgrown half the tops she kept on wearing. Fuck, and those hard little nipples?” I made tasty sounds.

I sighed. “It’s a wonderful time in a girl’s life when the apricots become peaches.”

One more minute passed in silence. “She only got her cherry popped, what, three months ago? Such an exciting time for her.”

The car literally swerved. Ron looked at me aghast, “What the hell are you trying to do? Kill us? And that’s not the kind of information you should share with me!”

He focused on the road. “Seriously, what’s got into you?”

I shrugged but chose to dial back the pressure for now. “Hormones, I guess.”

By the way, I know that “time in a young woman’s life” is actually rife with stress and fear and every kind of pressure in the world. Nevertheless, later, when you look back on it, it still seems magical.


I am happy to say my husband and I aren’t terribly attached to our phones. Status updates and browsing memes or Pinterest just aren’t things that suck us in. We don’t need rules about phones at the table or anything like that because it just doesn’t come up.

The meal was fantastic. We were both taking our time. My salmon was in a delicate butter and cream sauce that didn’t actually carry strong flavors but made the salmon feel divine on my tongue. Ron was also enjoying his crab legs and clams.

It wasn’t a big deal when I took out my phone and texted Laura to check on the kids. Perfectly normal “mom” behavior.

~Everything under control?

I set the phone aside. Two bites of pilaf later it buzzed.

~Of course. The fire department almost has the fire out.

I deserved that. But she was feeling sassy. That was good.

~Just as long as you don’t have a boy over. Or boys.

I sipped my iced tea. It was the only downer of the meal. It tasted just a bit off and I was missing wine.

~Who says I don’t?

~Oh, well then I hope they’re treating you right. Any of your boy toys ever give YOU head?

There was something of a delay before the next response. Ron had started giving me a look. Not unhappy. Curious.

~No. But they always expect me to do it for them.


~And it’s not the most disgusting thing in the world but sometimes they… finish.

I smiled at that. ~I told you, that’s how they are when they’re young. As it happens, I enjoy giving head. And getting, of course.

I sent that but continued typing.~In fact, I was blowing Ron in the bedroom just, like, a minute before you got there.

I caught Ron trying to read the texts. I have him an enigmatic smile and angled it away from him. Laura answered ~Bull-ony

~I’m serious. Gotta keep him interested even when I’m the size of a house.

~Do you actually enjoy it?

~Sure. Making another person feel that good is inherently rewarding. Makes me feel, I don’t know, powerful in a way.

I turned the phone over. When it didn’t buzz again for a few minutes, Ron asked. “Everything fine at home?

“Of course. Laura was just asking me about blowjobs.” I didn’t time my response quite right… if I had waited two seconds I probably could have gotten a genuine spit-take. Ron set his drink down and gritted his teeth. “What?”

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