It was two hours until the reception began but as usual, Janice liked to start getting ready early. The convention had taken a lot out of Janice but as usual, a short nap and she was ready to go.

Janice was just finishing her shower while I was laying out my suit and her dress for the evening. I was a little startled when the bathroom door opened, and I turned to find Janice toweling down after her shower. She had a towel around her waist and was winding another around her hair, but was bare-chested. She liked to let her 'girls' hang out since she considered them her best asset. I smiled – I certainly enjoyed seeing her girls.

My attention turned back to our evening clothes as I started gently going over them with a lint brush. While I was doing that, I heard the hairdryer start. After a time, I looked in the bathroom and found Janice, fully nude, with her hair down over her head while she dried it. She often dried her hair in the nude since it heated up the bathroom.

The whole time she dried her hair, I moved around the room, doing this and that, but stealing glances at Janice as she dried her hair buck naked. She stood in several poses as she moved her hair around to dry it, and this exposed and emphasized various parts of her anatomy. I sat and thought what an incredible figure of a woman she was, even after a quarter-century and three children. Her body could easily pass for someone in her early thirties. She kept slender primarily by limiting what she ate (Janice never was a big eater) and occasional visits to the gym, but many women would be jealous of how little time she put into looking beautiful.

I could tell she was finished drying her hair and could hear her brushing it out. I decided to make my move. I walked into the bathroom and went into the separate room for the toilet and closed the door. Once inside, I quickly slipped out of my shorts and t-shirt, then quietly went outside. Janice was too busy brushing her hair to notice my nudity, so I quietly stole up behind her. I put both hands on her waist, and she yelped a little in surprise. I ran them up her body and around to the front and encompassed her superb breasts as I placed my erect member just above the crack in her ass.

"Feeling a little in the mood?" she said, turning her head and smiling.

"That tends to happen when I watch you dry your hair. It's better than any strip show," I replied.

She pulled my hands apart and turned around, and mock slapped me across the face.

"I'm not a stripper," she scolded, "but I kind of thought that might turn you on."

She reached up with her mouth, and I bent to meet her lips in a deep-tongued kiss.

After we kissed, I asked, "Do we have time for a quickie?"

"Oh, we'll make time," Janice said, and she led the way into the hotel room. She went over to the large bed and stopped.

"Let's do a doggie," she said, smoothing her hair, "I won't get as mussed that way."

"Whatever you say," I replied.

Janice climbed up on the bed and knelt kind of sideways to me.

"Oh, and don't cum inside me," she said, "I don't want to have to deal with a vagina full of semen this evening during the reception."

I nodded my agreement, and she turned around and spread her knees open. She could always judge no matter where we were at the right level to set her vagina for rear-entry sex. I found that an interesting skill on her part.

With her knees apart, her magnificent vagina was fully apparent, framed nicely by her excellent ass. Janice kept her bush neatly trimmed by occasional visits to an upscale salon that also did painless bikini waxing. It was a vanity on her part that I appreciated.

I began running my fingers gently over her labia, using the back of my fingers in a way I knew she loved. Like I thought, she moaned quietly as I started. I rubbed gently up and down, then went to her inner lips, which I rubbed gently with rotating motions of my fingers, gently exploring them with the tips. Finally, she gasped as I put my middle finger deep into her vagina, seeking the natural lubrication in there and gently stroking her inside lips.

"I love how you stroke my pussy," she gasped. Janice only used that word in the midst of sex, and I was never allowed to use it. I think she thought that 'preserved' that particular term to increase the amount of eroticism at times like this.

After a gently full-lip massage, I moved to her clitoris. I never told her, but several years ago, I bought a video on clitoral stimulation. I watched it several times, then threw it away, but she was the beneficiary of that study ever since. She began heavy gasps tinged with small cries. I can often bring her to orgasm by just doing this, which I do sometimes when she is on her way to work but just wants a little 'relaxation' before she leaves.

This time, however, this was all foreplay. As I continued the clitoral massage, I brought my member into position. I smoothly transitioned from stroking to penetration in one practiced move, slipping my member deep into her warm mustiness.

"Oh, yes, fuck me deep," she gasped, another word she only used at the height of sex, and I was never allowed to use.

I grasped both sides of her ass and began slow intercourse, moving in and out while Janice began to move to match my thrusts. I made sure to make full penetration with each forward thrust, brushing her vagina with the hair around my genitals, which I knew she loved.

After several minutes I made a deep thrust forward, then leaned over and grabbed her breasts. She moaned softly as I massaged her hanging breasts all around, then settled on her engorged nipples, which I rubbed between my fingers for several seconds.

"Ready to rock and roll?" she asked. It was a characteristic signal to begin rapid intercourse. I stood back up, gripped her ass tightly, and began more rapid intercourse, becoming more and more rapid as I built to a climax.

One thing about my lovely wife Janice, and I don't know if this is true of most women, or even some women, but she had distinctly different levels of orgasm. I've struggled to characterize them, and finally just settled on low, medium, and high. Her mediums are what I think most women would call an orgasm: loud gasping, some low yelling, occasional high squeaking sounds, and up and down motions of her arms and body, depending on her position.

Her highs almost wake up the neighborhood and would do a porn star proud. They start with low guttural noises and build to loud cries of 'Ahh, Ahh' and then build to loud squeals. About this time, her body collapses and she will fall off (if she's on top) with rubbery legs, then roll on her side with her hands in her crotch while shaking and moaning with her mouth hanging wide open. They're quite spectacular; I was afraid she was an epileptic when I first saw one.

The only thing I've been able to correlate her orgasmic intensity to is the length of foreplay. Roughly, long foreplay produces majors, normal produces mediums, and so on. It's almost as if foreplay winds up a spring inside her; the longer the foreplay, the tighter the spring.

In the case of the quickie we were having, the spring didn't get wound too tight, so it produced a low. She dropped her head, clamped her mouth shut, and began a high-pitched but low squealing while she shivered violently like she was cold. This lasted for about twenty seconds and was followed by heavy panting.

Well, she might have had her jollies, but I hadn't yet. As I continued, she reminded me, "Remember, don't cum in my vagina, please."

I grunted agreement, and just then my mouth went dry and that old feeling started up my spine. I let it go a few seconds, then withdrew and began swiftly masturbating my member, which was slick with the juices from Janice's vagina.

"Do you want me to finish you?" Janice asked, still in her kneeling rear-entry position.

I put my free hand on her back. "No, that's OK, just sit still," I gasped out.

I heard a heavy, pensive sigh, which I'll explain in a minute. Just then I leaned back as a long, turgid stream of semen blasted from my penis and plopped in a long line on my beautiful wife's back. I had to lean back to avoid getting it in her hair but then leaned forward as more semen shot in long jets, making several long lines of man spunk on her back. I then continued stroking as more continued to dribble out, making small plops on her back as I grunted loudly.

After I was spent, I looked down and saw that Janice's back was covered in man spunk. She just held stoically still.

"Did you get any in my hair?" she asked, with a hint of annoyance.

Now when we first began making love many decades ago, Janice used to think it was fun and cute to have me cum on her. She was okay with me covering any part of her body except her face. But as she got older, she began to like it less and less. Finally, a few years ago I did what I had just done and got a large wad in her hair. I knew she hated that, but this time she had a major tantrum about it and wouldn't have sex with me for over a week. After that, I only do it occasionally, and always ask beforehand. This was the first time in a while I hadn't asked, but she was the one who didn't want the stuff in her vagina, so what else could I do?

"No, I know better than that," I assured her. I bent over and whispered in her ear, "That was great. I love you so much."

She turned and smiled. "I love you too – and I love it when we're intimate," she replied sweetly, then quickly returned to annoyance and said, "Would you clean me up now?"

I didn't say anything but quickly retired to the bathroom and came back with a warm wet washcloth and a hand towel. I mopped the semen into a little pool in the middle of her back, then scooped it up with the washcloth. Rolling the semen side inside, I used the outside to finish wiping her back. As I got near the small of her back, she quivered.

"Sorry; didn't mean to hit tickle," I said. Janice was very ticklish in the small of her back.

"That's OK," she said, starting to get over her annoyance with my gentle cleaning, "did you get it all?"

"Yes, you're all set," I said as I toweled her back dry.

Janice stood up and stretched, then looked at me with a 'what am I going to do with you' look.

"Mr. Firehose," she said, then kissed me on one cheek. I patted her hair, and she turned with a smile and returned to the bathroom. I watched her shapely bare ass as she went back in.

"Are you staring at my ass?" she yelled from the bathroom.

"Oh, you know I am," I replied.

She leaned her head out the door and blew me a kiss while putting on a hotel bathrobe.

A couple of hours later, we were in the hotel ballroom among a crowd of executives from various financial and telecom companies. Probably half of the Fortune 500 was represented, including several who were quite famous.

Janice was talking to a clutch of bankers. She looked stunning in her floor-length gown, which hugged her without looking slutty and showed a hint of the top of her incredible bosom. Her long hair streamed behind her, not done up as she wears it during the day, and she wore the earrings and necklace which I got her for her birthday and cost over ten grand. All the men in the room couldn't stop staring at her, and the various lady executives and spouses were all hating her, I'm sure.

I was wearing a $2000 Italian suit, custom-tailored, which Janice had picked out for me. I only had to occasionally attend to her, and otherwise wandered the ballroom joining various clutches of people who looked interesting. This one was some Silicon Valley types, who wore their libidos on their sleeves.

One started eyeing Janice lasciviously. I'm surprised his tongue didn't hang out.

"Janice Forta," he said (professionally, Janice goes by her maiden name), "that's one class-A MILF."

The other men in the group turned to eye her up and down.

"I bet she's a great fuck," another said, and the others chuckled in agreement.

"Oh, you're absolutely correct, and that's something I can personally attest to," I said, checking my watch. "In fact, I fucked her a little over two hours ago."

The others looked at me with supercilious looks on their faces.

"I'm Lance Wallace," I said, "Janice's husband."

The others looked at each other somewhat apprehensively. You see, I had a reputation for being bad-tempered and jealous. You almost had to, being married to someone like Janice among a still male-dominated industry. By way of example, about ten years earlier, we were in a similar gathering, and a sawed-off Silicon Valley VP who considered himself God's gift to women followed Janice around the ballroom, repeatedly putting his hand on her ass. I had pulled him aside, introduced myself, and asked him politely to stop, but he only smirked at me and continued. I suppose he saw little threat from a 'house husband' like myself. Anyway, I had had enough. I had picked the little fellow up, went to the balcony of the third-floor ballroom, and tossed him off into a swimming pool below. I explained to our lawyer afterward I of course knew good and well the pool was down there, and the little creep didn't press charges as everyone around the industry was having good fun at his expense. Actually, I had no idea the pool was down there – I figured some time in the hospital would be good for him, and we had liability insurance.

I was fairly notorious among the crowd Janice ran with, but many didn't know what I looked like, since I only attended to her at soirees like this, but most were aware I came from Missouri. I think the Italian suit and lack of redneck drawl threw many. They were no doubt surprised I didn't wear torn jeans and a white t-shirt with a pack of Marlboros in the sleeve.

Anyway, the one who made the MILF comment said quietly, "Ah, we meant no offense, just locker-room talk, you know."

"Oh, that's quite all right," I replied, "I take it as a great compliment. Excuse me."

I nodded to them and slowly strolled to where Janice was holding court. She was just finishing something about e-commerce and how it was unlikely Amazon could dominate the industrial market like they did retail. Seeing me next to her, she smiled at me and took my arm above the elbow and squeezed it slightly, which was her signal that she wanted me to stay near her for a while.

She continued the conversation for about ten minutes, then Janice asked if I would go with her while she refreshed her glass. We walked over to one of the bars on the side of the ballroom.

"I'm glad you came over when you did," she said breathlessly, "that tall thin gentleman is from Merrill and is a personal assistant to Jim Dimon. If he undressed me once more with his eyes, I was going to catch pneumonia. I think he was about five minutes from propositioning me."

I chuckled. "I don't see how you deal with it," I said, "half the men in this room want to get in your panties."

"About a third of the women too," she replied, laughing. "Remember, this is mostly a Silicon Valley crowd."

We both had a good laugh together, and after a quick drink, rejoined the party.