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A Day In The Life: Dreams Of A Lovely Marriage free porn video
A Day in the Life: Dreams of a Lovely Marriage Part 1
TGIF, indeed! After four months on the "new" job, the experience
continued to worsen, and new frustrations appeared which required
resignation in this horrible job market, rationalization, or repression.
My abilities and rationalization were overwhelmed by the task, and the
repression was leaking.
Thank the stars for the weekend and Marla.
She had called during the afternoon to say she would be late. Her job was
as demanding as mine, but she was vastly more satisfied with it. Also,
honesty compelled me to admit that she was also vastly more diplomatic
than I and could bend without losing her self-respect.
Arriving home shortly after five, I shed my suit coat, loosened my tie,
and sat on the still-sunny deck with a relaxing rum-and-tonic. The sight
and sound of the Gulf still had the power to delight me.
Around thirty minutes later, the sound of her car in the driveway broke in
on my reverie. I moved into the house and took her in my arms as she
entered.
"Hi, sweetie!" she said, hugging back. As we disengaged, she headed to
change from her work clothes--a well-tailored suit with tasteful stripes
against a navy background on knee-length skirt and matching coat over a
snow-white blouse. Over her shoulder she asked, "Pour me a glass of
wine?" as her fuck-me pumps' heels clacked over the hallway floor.
I had the burgundy waiting when she returned. She playfully posed in the
kitchen, hands on hips with a saucy smile. No teenager, still she looked
easily ten years younger than her driver's license claimed. We both ate
sensibly, exercised the bods, and took good care of ourselves. The Marla
smiling at me still was a pretty girl, and I was proud and grateful that
she was my wife. 5'3" in the flats she now wore, the 125 pounds were
well-distributed over her toned body. The attractively-styled short hair
was a rich dark brown, tinted to conceal a bit of gray. Her pretty aqua
eyes danced, and I felt again how much sheer fun it was to be with this
woman, a joy that never had disappeared despite thirty years together--
years full of some bad times but never times when either of us ever lost
the underlying love that kept us together. She wore fitted blue jeans and
a slightly boyish dark blue cotton shirt with sleeves rolled up to her
forearms.
"And how was work today, any better?" she asked as she took the wine, and
I followed her out to the deck.
"it was OK," I said, not wanting to talk about it, as she sat down on the
cushion of the wicker chair and comfortably crossed her lovely legs. "I'm
gonna go in and change," I added and moved to go to our bedroom and get
out of my suit.
"No, you're not," Marla said calmly. As I paused, she took a sip of her
wine and added, "You're going to sit down and tell me how your job went
today."
Used to following my wife's instructions, I sat, sighed, and said, "It
sucked. The whole operation is crazy, and Bert's a hypocrite and a
horse's ass to boot."
Marla gazed at the Gult over the rim of her glass. I continued. "Marla,
you've heard me go through this before. Either he's gonna fire me, or
I'll eventually blow and walk out. They are bastards and could care less
about the clients!" We had, indeed, frequently spoken of my growing
frustration at my job as Clincial Director, which had been described to me
by the big boss--Bert--as a great opportunity when he sought me out, but
which had proven to be anything but.
Marla spoke, "What happened today, Ken?"
"That bitch trophy wife of his got snotty again. She is such a bitch!"
(Little Shena, whom Bert had given a title and a certain amount of power
to when they married, was remarkably arrogant and patronizing with those
she considered underlings, and she absolutely traded on her power as
boss's wife to protect her.)
"And you're really mad?" Marla prompted.
"Damn right I am!"
"And what else." She turned from the Gulf to me, and our eyes met. Only
she could touch the inside of me so gently and so effectively. I glanced
down.
"I feel like such a loser. I put up with this stuff, Mar, and I feel like
a little kid under the thumb of 'the big people.' I know I'm not, but..."
I stopped because I really didn't want to cry.
Marla moved and gracefully sank to her knees so that her eyes were on my
level, and our faces close. I looked up and into her soft, gray eyes.
"Do you need Mommy tonight?" she asked with infinite gentleness.
"Yes," I shuddered out. "Please."
Laying her warm hand for a moment on my cheek, she rose and spoke very
firmly. "Go into the bedroom, and put on what I laid out for you. I knew
from the moment I got home what you needed tonight."
I got to my feet, and she spoke sharply, "What do you say?"
"Yes, Mommy," I humbly replied and moved to obey.
(to be continued)
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