Showing posts with label Matched Pairs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matched Pairs. Show all posts

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Erotic Art / Story — "Matched Pairs" by Forest Hunter

Here's another commission for Ruthie's Club just in time for lunch! This one was done in 2007. Posted bellow is the first part of the story. If I can get intact with the writer and get permission I'll post the rest. One thing of note is that the pictures are not in sequence they are mainly just a preview of things to come within the story. Enjoy!


Teaser:
A tale of two couples who are young enough to enjoy it and old enough to know how to do it!


Matched Pairs
By Forest Hunter

CHAPTER 1



Fred Morgan stepped into the bedroom from the master bath.  It was six o’clock.  He dressed in the early morning light, not bothering to turn on the lamp.  He stepped into his Khaki slacks and put on a plaid shirt.  In the old days it would be suits and ties, but modern times were different.  It was his busy time of the year.  His fold-over valise was already packed, along with a small suitcase.  In some ways, it was just like a morning in one of the many hotels he stayed at when he was on the road.


He had completed the northern and eastern half of his territory the prior day.  He stopped at home at the midway point before taking on the western and southern swing.  It would take him a week and a few days.  He didn’t even take the samples out of the minivan.  After a quick bowl of Raisin Bran in the kitchen, he would be on the interstate, en route to Rochester, his first stop.


One thing that was different from the nameless motel rooms was that his wife, Maggie, lay in their bed watching him as he dressed.  Since they were married he always scheduled a day home at the half-way point.  He could have rerouted himself more efficiently if he avoided the home stop, but he wouldn’t consider it.  This time it had only been a night.  There were numerous construction delays on the interstate—par for the course in an election year.  He dragged himself in at eight-thirty in the evening, but it was still worth it.

Fred glanced at Maggie’s reflection in the mirror as he combed his hair and took pleasure in what he saw.  He knew that she was nude as she peered at him from under the bed covers. She had that ‘satisfied woman’ look and it was well that she would wear that visage.  As Fred came through the door at eight-thirty she met him in her—or his—favorite negligee.  By eight forty-five it had been cast aside.  They never fell asleep until eleven thirty.  There is a certain pleasing, serene expression a woman wears the morning after a fulfilling night.