Tales of Love Romance and Marriage

By Wanda Peters

This book is a series of stories about husbands, wives, and lovers who find happiness in and out of marriage.  I hope you find some happiness in reading it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wanda Peters
• Release date: Feb 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224150199

Wanda Peters

I have been writing erotic since 2012.  Most of what I write involves submissive husbands and dominant wives.  However, occasionally I delve into the submissive female culture.

Book preview

Tales of Love Romance and Marriage

An Opportunity Missed.

I guess I have always known Warran.  We lived in the same small farming community and we rode the same school bus every day.  I had always had a crush on him but had never acted on it until maybe 9th or 10th grade.  And then one day on the school bus, I heard him talking with one of his friends about the World Series.  I could tell by what was said that he liked the New York Yankees.  I knew nothing about baseball but when I got home that night I checked my father’s newspaper to see who his Yankees were playing.  It was the Pittsburgh Pirates.

That was all I needed to know so I carefully folded the newspaper and replaced it where I had found it.

The next day I made sure to sit as close to Warren as I could and when I heard him mention the series, I interrupted and said that I was sure that the Pirates would be victorious.

I only said that to see if I could get Warren to notice me and it worked but not exactly the way that I had imagined.  So you think that the Pirates are going to win do you? he asked.

I am sure they are the better team, I replied.

Would you like to make a little bet? he asked.

Well, I couldn’t back down at that point, so I asked what he had in mind.

I will bet you a dollar that the Pirates don’t win today, he challenged.

I really didn’t have a dollar that I could afford to lose but I didn’t want him to know that and so I agreed and he insisted on shaking on it.

I reached out and took his hand and grimaced a little at the strength of his grip.  I don’t know if he meant to cause me pain, but I was happy just to have the chance to touch him.

As soon as we parted hands he smiled and turned his palm up and held his hand out to me.  You owe me a dollar, he said.

How can I owe you a dollar? I asked mystified.

I bet you that the Pirates would not win today and since they don’t play today they can’t win.

I felt like a total fool but I didn’t want to be seen as a sore loser and so I reached into my small purse and took out the only dollar that I owned, the one I needed to buy lunch with.

A few days later, Warren asked if I wanted to make another bet.  I told him that once bitten twice shy and then he called me a chicken.

I am not a chicken, I just don’t want to bet on some stupid baseball game, I began.  But I will meet you this weekend and I will show you that I am not a chicken.

He looked at me with what I thought might be curiosity.  Where do you want to meet? he asked.

How about under the bridge that is halfway between our houses?"

I will be there around noon on Saturday but you better be ready to pay up, he told me.

I couldn’t wait for the weekend to come.  I had a pretty good idea as to what he would ask of me and if it had something to do with us both being naked, I was more than ready for that.

So on Saturday, I got up early to make sure that all my chores were done, packed a picnic lunch, and headed out for the bridge.  It was a warm day and I was sweating by the time I got to the bridge so I took off my shoes and dipped my feet into the small creek that flowed under the bridge.

I don’t know how long I waited but at some point, I realized that Warren was not coming and so I put on my shoes and reluctantly walked back home.

The following Monday, totally humiliated, I avoided sitting close to Warren and his friends.  I kept my eyes down so if he looked my way I would seem uninterested.

And for the next two years, my dreams of having a romantic liaison with Warren went by the wayside.  Just before graduation, something happened that gave me some hope for the future.  For some reason, one of my teachers decided that I did not deserve to graduate and so he refused to give me a final grade in his class.  Since I needed that grade to graduate, I was livid.

I sat down and started to cry on the school steps.  Just then Warren walked by, saw my tears, and asked me what was wrong.  When I told him, he said not to worry, everything would be alright and he headed back into the school.

He was only gone for a few minutes and when he came back he told me that the teacher wanted a word with me.  When I entered his class, he handed me a paper with my final grade on it and it was a passing grade.  I never knew exactly what had changed his mind but I assumed it might have something to do with a fairly large farm boy, demanding that he do so, under peril of a beating.

For the rest of the summer, I had hopes that Warren might call me and ask me out, but he never did.  I heard from one of the neighbor girls that she had seen him at a Naval Reserve dance and that she had spent the evening teaching him to slow dance.  She said that he had asked her to go out with him, but her parents wouldn’t allow it since he had a reputation as a wild kid with a fast car.

As for me, I didn’t care how fast his car was as long as it would stop on a quiet country lane long enough for me to seduce him.

But, I never got the chance.  That December he went on active duty and I never saw him again until after he got out of the service.

I had almost forgotten him.  I had taken a job as a secretary in a small company in my home town.  And then one day, low and behold Warren came in and applied for a job.

He was hired as a maintenance man.  His duties were to do almost anything that needed doing including keeping the small appliances in good running order.

One Saturday when the only people working were me and Warren, I saw my chance.  I was vacuuming the carpets in the office and it suddenly dawned on me that I needed an excuse to get Warren to come into the office where we would be alone together.  So I pulled the cord out of the wall and used the intercom to call Warren into the office.

What can I do for you? he asked me.

My vacuum just quit working.  Would you take a look at it for me?

It took him about two seconds to discover the problem and he looked at me like I was a nut case.  He plugged it back in and turned to leave when I put my hand on his arm to stop him.  When he turned to me, I kissed him.  I don’t know if he was surprised or not but immediately I found myself in his arms.  His kiss was gentle at first but then his tongue probed my lips.  I opened up for him and enjoyed the longest and best kiss of my life.

I would have been happy to continue that kiss forever but he became bold and moved his hand down to the swell of my buttocks and gave one a little squeeze.  That was what I wanted but I didn’t want him to think that I was that easy so I reached back, took his hand and moved it to the small of my back.

Almost immediately he moved it back down to my ass and again I repositioned it. That ended the moment, as he stepped back turned, and left the room.  I felt like an absolute fool for letting him get away that easily.

I promised myself that the following weekend would be different.  When I got him alone again he could put his hands anywhere he wanted as long as it was on my body and hopefully, neither of us would be wearing clothes when he did it.

But, then on Monday morning, Warren came into the office and quit his job.  I wanted to scream at him not to do it, but I was so shocked that I couldn’t even open my mouth.  That was the last time I saw him for 8 years.

It was at our 10th class reunion when I next saw him.  We were both married and so there was little opportunity for me to speak with Warren.  But finally, my husband wandered away to talk with someone he knew and Warren’s wife got up and left the room.  I got to my feet and quickly crossed the room.  Warren saw me coming and stood as I neared his table.

Do you ever think of that day in the office? I asked.

I have thought about it many times and I wish that it had ended differently, he replied.  I thought about taking you over my knee and spanking you for daring to remove my hand from your ass.

That was what I wanted you to do, I told him.  Why didn’t you?

I was confused.  You surprised me and then I let my hormones get the best of me.  When you removed my hand the second time, I thought it was clear that you had gone as far as you wanted.

I started to tell him that it wasn’t too late, we could still find a way to be alone but just then his wife came back.  As I saw her coming toward me, I lost my nerve, turned and walked away.  I never saw Warren again.

The end.

One Love Dies, One Love is Born

When we first met, Jason was the epitome of the perfect man.  He was handsome, funny, and punctual.  That last quality was something that most of the men that I had dated lacked.  And it was important to me.  I figured that if a man didn’t care enough about me to be on time, he didn’t care enough about me.

Never did Jason take me for granted.  He never showed up in my driveway and blew the horn for me to come running out to jump into his arms.  He came to the door and presented me with a flower or a box of chocolates, spent a few minutes with my parents, and then would offer me his arm to lead me outside.  He never failed to open my door or to wait patiently while I buckled my belt before he would go around to the driver’s side and get in behind the wheel.

He never failed to compliment me on my appearance, either.  In short, he made me feel special and adored, and that is why I fell in love with him.

And I loved that type of attention.  The sad part is that it does not go on forever.  I don’t care how good of a man you think they are, at some point they begin to take you for granted.  With Jason, it happened in the middle of the first year of marriage.

The first time I noticed it was when we went out for dinner one night and when we got to our table, he sat down instead of holding my chair for me first.  I looked at him, but he was engrossed in something that was on his phone.  Not wanting to be a bitch, I let it slide.  We had a good meal, and he managed to carry on a conversation, but I could see that he was distracted.

Then when we left the restaurant, he failed to take my hand as we walked to the car.  That pissed me off, but again I managed to hold my cool.  He did open my door for me, but instead of waiting for me to get buckled in, he simply walked around and got in behind the wheel.

That night when we got ready for bed, he slid in beside me and began trying to feel me up as if it was his right to have sex.  The problem I had was that I didn’t think he had earned the privilege, and I told him so.

What are you talking about?  Since when do I have to earn the right to fuck my wife?

I was flabbergasted.  Never before in all the time, that we had dated, had he ever used the F word with me.

I didn’t even answer him.  I just got out of bed, grabbed my pillow, and headed into the spare bedroom, locking the door behind me.

The next morning I had calmed down enough to sit across from him at the breakfast table, asking him why the change in his demeanor had come about.

Do you know how exhausting it is trying to be picture-perfect day in and day out?

I am not sure what you mean, I replied.  Since when is acting like a gentleman exhausting to you?  It wasn’t that tiring when we were going together, and you were trying to get into my pants.

There you go again.  Last night you threw that line at me, and now again this morning, you make it sound that having sex is something that has to be earned.  What do you do to earn the right to have me screw you?

I knew that I shouldn’t have said it, but I was so mad at that point that I just didn’t care.  I don’t have to earn the right to have you screw me, as you so callously put it.  I can have sex anytime with any man that I choose, just be showing up.

And then I stormed out of the room, got dressed, and got into my car to go for a drive and hopefully cool off.

I drove to a friend’s house and knocked on her door.  Julie opened the door, took one look at me, and ushered me into her kitchen.  She set a cup of coffee in front of me and urged me to tell her what was wrong.  So I related what had happened, leaving out the vulgar language that we both had used.

I saw a smile come to her face, and then she took a sip from her cup before answering.  All marriages go through this period at one time or another.  I remember the first time that Bill took me for granted and how badly I reacted then.  And like you, I tried to talk with him about his lack of attention, and I imagine I got a similar response as you did with Jason."

Well, apparently, you got through to him eventually because you seem to be the perfect married couple now, I said.

Julie kind of chuckled.  No, it wasn’t near that easy.  It never really is.  What your husband and mine wanted was to settle down to sex every other day or so and not have to put any effort into it.  I am not sure where they get the idea from, maybe it is from one of their friends, or maybe it is just bred into their psyches.  In any event, unless the wife takes action, she is destined to be ignored more each year until she dies old and bitter.  Many of us seek divorce as a remedy, but you have to remember that it is only a stop-gap approach unless you want to live alone.

What do you mean by taking action? I asked.

Well, I tried to ignore the situation at first, and eventually, like you, I decided to talk to someone about the situation.  In my case, it was Bill’s mother.

But before I got to that stage, I decided to read all the advice columns on how to get and keep a man.  Every one of them had some variation of the "Meet him at the front door, wearing only high-heels.  And I did try that, but deep down I knew that wasn’t going to solve the problem since Bill didn’t have any problem having sex with me.  He was convinced that it was his right to do so.  So following that advice simply set me back a few months.  Here we were, back to me, spreading my legs and him crawling between them.  So nothing on his part had to change.

His mother and I had always been close, even in the early days of my dating her son.  So I went to her and told her basically what you just told me.  It is always the same, just shake up the details and roll them out, and you have the story.  And what she told me shocked me to the core.  She told me that Bill needed to believe that he had some competition, or he would just continue to ignore my needs."

I thought about that for some time as we sat there sipping our coffee.  I wanted to hear more about the idea of competition, but