At Jane’s direction, John bought a new tent and a double high queen air bed for camping while they motor toured the west that summer. The salesman said the tent was rated for six persons and probably would have been so long as two of the six persons in question were children who stood less than four feet tall and weighed no more than eighty pounds.
Otherwise, it looked to be a comfortable and easy-to-assemble tent for four normal-sized adults. Then, just as they were about to leave the store, Jane decided that they would need a second double high queen air bed. When John asked why they should shell out more money for a second mattress, Jane spoke firmly to her husband.
“Two reasons,” she said. “The first is that one mattress might break down, and the second is that we might have a guest come along with us.”
“Are you thinking about Norman?”
“It’s a possibility,” Jane replied. This was John’s first inkling that the trip west might have a purpose beyond its original one of sightseeing.
John didn’t argue, for he was by now used to letting Jane take the lead in matters pertaining to them as a couple. Like many women her age and in her educational bracket, Jane Kirby was a sweet though thoroughly dominant young woman with fixed ideas about how her marriage ought to work.
In addition, Jane was in most respects unrestrained and rather unconventional in her sexuality, as the trip would show.
John, on the other hand, was a far more passive individual sexually than his assertive, self-assured wife. This did not mean that he was a patsy in terms of his personality. At work, where John managed the mainframe system for a state agency, he was regarded as a capable and knowledgeable technician.
The large salary John commanded was one of the things that attracted Jane to him in the first place. Truth be told, John was not particularly handsome or well favored physically. He was short, rather squat, and had short legs. His light brown hair was rapidly thinning and his uncorrected eyesight was poor. If he could be compared to a Hollywood character, the model would probably be the Seinfeld actor Jason Alexander.
John’s looks mattered little to Jane, however, for she was not beautiful in the classic sense either. Her facial features were a shade too narrow and pointed. Her sharp chin, beaked nose and broad forehead made for an appearance that was striking at its best, unpleasant at its worst. Whenever Norman teased Jane, he liked to claim that she resembled the old time television actor Edgar Buchanan, star of Petticoat Junction, a program Norman had avidly watched on TVLand as a child.
Beautiful was not a word that could be applied to Jane. But she had an intensely sensual nature, humor, a keen intelligence, and the ability to attract a certain sort of compliant man.
Moreover, Jane was blessed with a spectacular figure—wide hipped, long legged, and medium-breasted, with perfect dark cherry nipples and a sleek, well-padded bottom. Only those privileged to be intimate with Jane knew how fantastic she looked from the neck down.
Like her pal Jane, Marcy James was also blessed with a lush figure, her slim hourglass shape the de facto standard of modern feminine beauty. But unlike Jane, Marcy was also quite pretty, with long, light brown hair and a pair of clear, hazel eyes that had melted many a masculine heart, including Norman’s.
As it happened, Marcy James was among the nation’s leading authorities on the development of political attitudes in children, and a recently accepted PhD candidate at Emory in Atlanta.
Except in instances where they went sunbathing or nude, Jane and Marcy largely kept their physical assets under wraps. In Jane’s case, if she and John were noticed by other people at all, it was because they seemed like an appropriately ordinary heterosexual couple.
The outward impression they gave of conventional behavior was privately contravened in ways that outsiders would never guess. Within the confines of their marriage, Jane’s authority over John, particularly in their intimate relations, was absolute. Whatever Jane demanded, he supplied, and he was remarkably happy in his subordinate role, relishing his abject submission to his assertive, statuesque spouse.
On the drive west, John gave Jane oral sex at least once every day, usually in their tent, but also when they stopped at a casino resort, motel, or simply outdoors. During the same three-week period, Jane only allowed John two ejaculations, both of them administered by her skillful hands in front of the mirror in a motel bathroom, with her lubricated middle finger jammed deep in his rectum.
Jane’s control over John was never more evident than when she had the discussion with him about the possibility of picking up Norman Butler en route.
“I’ve spoken with Marcy about it,” Jane said, “and she wants us to deliver Norman to her as soon as possible.”
John pointed out that even if Norman came along with them, the likelihood of having him jump out at some point along the way was highly likely.
“Norm’s got more friends—male and female—than anybody I know,” John said. “How do you plan to keep him with us until we get to Louisville?”
“We must keep him happy,” Jane said. She reclined sidewise on the air mattress in just her bra and panties, lightly stroking John’s cock. “I intend to deliver Norman to Marcy, and I’ve got a plan for making sure it happens. As I said, I’ve talked about it with Marcy and she’s given me the okay.”
Not for the first time, John felt a stab of apprehension about where this conversation was headed.
“Why would Marcy have to give you an okay?”
Jane smiled, an expression that made her face almost, but not quite, pretty. “Because it means that I’m going to be fucking Norman in this tent while we’re traveling east,” she said.
“You’re going to be fucking Norman?”
“Yes, to distract him.” Jane pinched the round head of John’s diminutive penis. As male genitals went, his was smaller than average by a considerable amount.
Not only was John short in height, in the penile department he was shorter still, a fact that he was well aware of. It gave John a terrible inferiority complex, which Jane was more than happy to exploit to her advantage.
“I don’t get it,” John said.
“It’s not for you to get,” Jane answered sharply. “It is for you to obey me in whatever I choose to do.”
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