Date: Wed, 27 Jul 2005 11:44:24 -0400
From: kicky1000@yahoo.com
Subject: Ethan's Wife

			       Ethan's Wife

                                     by

				Little Dan


Eighteen years ago there had been a daring robbery at Werthen's (Jeweler
to the Stars.)  Fifty million dollars worth of precious gems had been
taken.  They were gone.  The jewels had totally disappeared.  Even though
the police were fortunate enough to have captured the culprit.

They had captured the burglar's face on a hidden video camera, and they
even had his fingerprints on a banana peel near the safe, though not on
the safe itself.   The district attorney had built up an iron-clad case
against Ethan Crosley, a career criminal, suspected in many other jewel
heists.  He had had an alibi, of course.  He said he had spent the entire
evening with his girlfriend, Mona Kensley at Dilly's, a local ice cream
parlor, and that they had each had six chocolate Sundays.  Later
investigation, however, revealed that Dilly's had been closed that night
when the refrigeration failed, and that Mona had spent the entire night
at Candace Carney's.  Candace owned the local whorehouse.  She was a
career madam.  Candace herself testified that Mona had serviced forty-two
men that night, one after the other, and not one of them had been Ethan
Crosley.  Both Mona, and Madam Candace had made quite a bundle for
themselves.  Candace was forced to reveal the names of the johns to the
police, who were very decent about it, and did not tell their wives.
Each of the men corroborated the story, and gave Mona excellent reviews
in cocksucking, plus vaginal and anal intercourse.

The prosecution had won a conviction, and Ethan Crosley had been
sentenced to twenty years in prison.  International Re, the big insurance
company, was in an awful position. They were on the hook for fifty
million dollars.  Unless.....Unless.....they could recover the jewels.

They tried everything they could.  They tried to have Ethan tortured to
reveal the location of the jewels.  His lips were sealed.  They promised
to get him an immediate pardon, and set him at large again in the
community, if only he would divulge the location of the jewels.  His lips
were sealed.  Obviously his plan was to wait it out.  To serve his twenty
years, and then disappear.  A fabulously wealthy jewel thief.

International Re had paid the claim thirteen years ago.  But they wanted
their money back.  They were not about to give in so easily.  They wanted
to recover those jewels.

I had recently been hired by International Re as an investigator.  The
only talk around the office was `Ethan Crosley' and the `fifty million
dollar stash of jewels.'   Ethan's release date was only two years in
the future now.  Not much time to get him to reveal the information we
needed.  I was intrigued.  I knew it would be quite a feather in my cap,
if I could solve the case and recover the booty.  This was a real career
builder.

I began to be obsessed with those jewels.  More than anyone else at
International Re, I wanted to be the one responsible for recovering
them.  My name would be on page one of every newspaper in the country.
`Warren Westing, Master Detective, recovers stolen treasure.'   I was
Warren Westing, of course.

If only I could get close to Ethan Crosley.  Be a friend to him.  Be a
Confidante.  Yes. I needed to become a Confidante.  A mad scheme started
percolating in my brain.  I made an appointment with Matt Rosenbee, the
CEO of International Re.

At three o'clock the next afternoon, I approached Flossie's desk.
Flossie was Matt Rosenbee's private secretary.  Her desk stood right
outside of his office door, which she guarded with the ferocity of a
mother tiger.

"May I help you?" she asked me, without even looking up.  I could have
been the janitor for all she knew.  No. I guess I couldn't have been the
janitor.  I was wearing a blue suit.  I'm sure she saw my blue suit.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Rosenbee, Flossie," I said.  She must
have known that.  She had made the appointment for me, when I called.
She had conveyed my message to Matt Rosenbee that I had an idea about how
to get the jewels back, and he had agreed to see me.

"Yes," she said.  "You'll have to wait a few minutes.  He's having
his donut and coffee.  Sit down."  She gestured to the row of seats
behind me.  I sat.   Donuts and coffee?   I had this brilliant idea, and
he was having donuts and coffee?  I wondered what kind of donuts.  Filled
or glazed?

From the table beside me, I picked up this week's edition of the popular
economics journal, `Trickle Down.'   I was reading about the latest
merger in the Pharmaceuticals industry.   Perkins Hodges was buying
Lakeford Pills, with the object of eliminating Lakeford's cholestorol
pill, Zapadril, which had been in competition with their own drug,
Mucor.  After eliminating Zapadril, they would be able to quintuple the
price of Mucor.  I was in the middle of the article, when Flossie called
me.

"All right," she said.  "You can go in now."

I replaced the magazine on the top of the pile on the table, and walked
towards Rosenbee's door.  I entered his office and shut the door behind
me.  He was wiping his lips with a paper napkin.  A small leftover
crescent of donut sat on the china plate, which he now pushed aside.  The
donut had been glazed.  Maple.

He gestured to the armchair across the big desk from him.

"What can I do for you, Westin?"  He asked me.

"I have an idea about the jewels," I said.

"Yes.  Yes.  That's what Flossie told me.  Very interesting.  Would you
care to tell me about this idea of yours?"

"That's why I'm here, sir," I patiently explained.

"Well.  Out with it, then.  I'm all a-twitter."

Was he being sarcastic?

"Well.  I was thinking.  Maybe I could become Crosley's friend."

"Oh," he nodded.  "It's that simple.  You can become Crosley's
friend.  And he'll tell you where the jewels are?"

"That's sort of what I was thinking, sir."

"Are you crazy?"  He started screaming at me.

"But if we became very good friends.....???"  I was beginning to realize
that my idea might sound ridiculous.  Why would Crosley ever pick me as a
friend?  Why would he ever trust me?   If he had never told anyone in
eighteen years, whyever would he tell me?  My coming here had been a
mistake.  I had deluded myself with dreams of glory.  All those headlines
in my mind, had convinced me that I was invincible.  That I could do
anything.  That I could get the information.  I was a fool.  I tried to
save my dignity as best I could.  "I could be very friendly, sir.  I
could be very sympathetic.  He's probably never had a caring sympathetic
buddy.  I could provide a shoulder for him to cry on.  If he began to
pour out his heart to me, if I could get him to bare his soul???  I
don't know.  Maybe you're right.  Maybe I am crazy."

"Yesss," he said slowly.  "It would probably never work.  But still,
maybe, maybe, maybe, it might be worth at least a try?   I mean.  We have
nothing to lose, now, do we?"

"No, sir," I assured him.

"How would we do it?" he asked me.  "How would you get to be his
friend?"

"I would need your help, sir."

"What were you thinking of?"

"Well.  I would need to get into that prison.  Preferably into the same
cell?  I don't know if that would be possible."

"I don't know," he said.

"You would have to have a lot of records faked, showing that I was some
kind of a criminal.  But you would also have to get the real facts on
file somewhere.  Like.  In case you got hit by a bus, I would be able to
prove that I was an investigator, not a criminal, so that I wouldn't
spend the rest of my life behind bars."

"That sounds reasonable," he agreed.

"Some big official's office would have to be in on it with us."

"I could make all the arrangements through The Federal Bureau of
Reinsurance in Washington.  That way everything is covered.  Everything
is professional.  Everything is legal.  There would be no danger for
you."

I thought this over.  It sounded like a good plan.   "Okay," I decided.

"You're sure you want to go through with this?"  He cocked his head.

I paused a few seconds before answering.  The fame.  The adulation.  The
large financial reward I would, no doubt, get.  It was too much to give
up.  I was willing to try it.  So if it didn't work, I would just get
myself released.   What would be the harm?   "Yes," I decided.
Definitely.  "I want to go through with this."

"Okay, Westin.  Let's do it.  Nothing risked, nothing gained.  I have
to hand it to you.  You're a brave guy."

"I am?" I asked naively.  "Why?"

"To go to prison.  To be in that atmosphere.  With all those hardened
criminals.  I gotta hand it to you.  I'm really impressed."

I hadn't really been thinking about it in that way.  But I would just
have to learn to deal with whatever came up.  "I'll be okay," I
assured him.

"Okay.  I'll get the ball rolling tomorrow.  Check with me on Friday.
You know, if this works out, there could be a handsome bonus in it for
you."

"Yes," I said.  "I thought there might be."

We both stood up, and shook hands across his desk.  As I was turning to
leave, I saw him reach down and pick up the small remaining chunk of the
glazed maple donut.  He popped it in his mouth and devoured it.

It was arranged that I would be transported to Sandusky (the prison) on
the 25th of the month.  At the moment, Ethan was alone in his cell,
having smashed his last cellmate's face into the steel bars one tense
evening.  The prison officials were leery about putting a new prisoner in
the cell, but the Bureau explained how important it was, and they
agreed.  They also promised to try to keep a special eye on me.  I was
grateful for that.

At Sandusky, they took my clothes and gave me my prison-issue oranges
(orange uniforms).  Then they handcuffed me, and two guards escorted me
down many long corridors to my new home.

Finally, they stopped before one of the identical metal cages, and one of
the guards turned a large key in the lock.  An orange-garbed man, sitting
on the lower bunk, looked up in surprise.

"What are you doing?" he yelled.  "This is my cell.  I got a single
here."

"Not any more, Ethan," said the guard with the keys.  He unlocked my
handcuffs, and they left me there, locking the door behind them.   I was
in my new cell with Ethan Crosley, the famous jewel thief.

He was an imposing man.  Around six foot four, padded with
muscles-everywhere.  His shirtsleeves were rolled up and multi-colored
tattoos covered his bulging arms.  His prison uniform was unbuttoned at
the top, and I saw more ink on the exposed skin of his chest.  I saw a
skull and I saw a dagger dripping red blood.  His head was completely
shaved and looked like a round-tipped bullet.  Even if there had been a
large crowd in the room, you couldn't help noticing him.  There was
something.....I don't know....fascinating???

"Hi," I said jovially, approaching him with an outstretched hand.
"I'm Warren.  Warren Westin."

He didn't answer me, and he didn't take my hand.  I stood there like a
lunkhead for a few minutes, and then I climbed up to the top bunk.  That
was the available one.

"Okay," I said.  "But if you need anything, just remember I'm here."

We went to the mess hall for dinner, and then we returned to our cell.
I, wisely, didn't utter another word.   When they turned off the lights,
I tried to sleep.  I was a nervous wreck, and my brain was doing
cartwheels.  I could have used a sleeping pill.  It must have been after
four a.m. that I finally dozed off.  They woke us at six.  I was very
tired the next day.

Ethan kept giving me nasty looks.  He was friendly enough with the guards
and some of the other prisoners in the yard.  They seemed to be bringing
him things.  Doing favors for him.  Well, why not?  He was a wealthy
jewel thief.  He could take care of them financially, I figured.

But my plan wasn't going very well.  We were two complete strangers,
stuck in the same little cage.  He didn't like me, and he didn't want
me there.  He was certainly not going to confide in me and tell me where
the jewels were.  He wouldn't even talk to me.  He wouldn't even
acknowledge my presence.

But one day something happened, and everything changed.  What happened
was terrible, and nothing I would ever have wished for, but it happened.
Poor guy.

In the middle of the afternoon, they came to take Ethan from the cell.
They told him he had visitors.

"It's not even visiting day," he argued.

"We're making an exception," said the guard.  "Your sisters are
here.  Irma and Elsie.  They need to speak to you."

His face suddenly clouded over and he looked very afraid.  And very
human.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked in a small voice.

"We don't know anything," the guard answered.  "Your sisters want to
see you.  Come on."

They handcuffed him and led him down the many corridors toward the
visitor's room.   I was curious, myself.   How come they were allowing
him a special visit?  Did it have anything to do with the jewels???

An hour later they brought him back.  His eyes were red and his cheeks
were streaked with tears.  Something awful had happened.   The guards
removed his handcuffs and left us alone.  He stood there with his face
lowered and pressed against the bars, holding the bars tightly in his
hands.  Silent sobs were wracking his body.  I could see it in the
spasmodic twitching of his back.  What could I do for him?  I needed to
help him.  But how?

I stepped up to him and laid my hand on his back, near his shoulder.

"What is it, Ethan?"  I asked him.   He just shook his head and gave an
audible sob.

"Oh, Ethan.  Tell me.  Tell me.  What happened?  Let me help you."

"You can't help me," he said bitterly.  "No one can help me."

"Tell me what it is.  Confide in me.  Please," I begged him.

Finally he gave in and the words started pouring forth.

"It's my mother," he said in a wet, choked voice.   "My mother.  She
was run over by a snowplow.  She's dead.  My poor mother is dead."

I was shocked.  How terrible.  Poor guy.  I didn't know what to do, so I
just put my arms around him, and made him lay his head on my shoulder.
"Ssshhh," I soothed.  "Ssshhh."

I gently ran my hand down his cheek and just kept stroking him.  He cried
and he cried, as I stroked his shiny head and his face.  "Ssshhh.  My
poor baby. My poor baby," I crooned.  What kind of words were those
coming out of a hardened criminal's mouth?  Was I crazy?  `My poor
baby?'  Where had that one come from?  But he was responding.  He put
his arms around me and held me, as he cried, and as I stroked him.  I led
him to the bottom bunk, and we sat side-by-side, and continued.  For
about a half hour.  I suddenly realized why I had used the phrase `my
poor baby'.  It had been a stroke of genius on my part.  The man had
just lost his mother, and I was acting maternal.  I was filling in for
the poor woman.  I was giving him what he most needed at this moment.

"Ssshhh.  My poor baby.  Everything will be all right.  I'll take care
of you.  Everything will be all right."  I had once said something about
providing Ethan with a shoulder to cry on.  Well.  Now I had done just
that.  Maybe our friendship would develop after this.  I was hopeful.
"Ssshhh.  My poor baby," I continued.

After dinner, at lights-out, Ethan had a strange request.   "I could use
some company tonight," he said.  "I know it's kind of narrow, but
could you stay with me on the lower bunk tonight?"

"Of course," I said.  "Of course.  I'd be happy to."   My scheme
might work after all.

We lay down side by side, and it really was a tight fit.  But I cradled
his head against my neck, and he wrapped his big arms around my chest,
and we both fell asleep.

After that....  I know you won't be surprised, but we got to be very good
friends.  We sat next to each other in the mess hall.  We played ball
together in the yard.   And when he got me a pack of cigarettes, I
accepted them gladly.  I couldn't bear to tell him I didn't smoke.

We were still sharing the lower bunk every night.  At first we had slept
in our orange uniforms, but we needed to keep them fresher during the
day.  They only changed them twice a week.  So eventually we just slept
in the raw.  I couldn't help noticing the big thick floppy piece of meat
dangling over his hairy balls, but I just averted my eyes as much as
possible.  Occasionally I felt I was getting an erection, (after all, I
certainly hadn't had any sex since I'd been in prison.)  but I just
kept my back to Ethan so he wouldn't see it.

One night, while we were lying side by side, he said something to me.

"You know, Warren.  You're a real good friend.  I appreciate it.  I
never had a lot of friends.  I guess you're the best friend I ever
had."

I thought about that for a few minutes and realized something.  "You
know I never had any friends either.  I guess you're the best friend I
ever had."  I felt a tremendous warmth spread first through my stomach,
and then all over, as I made this observation.

"Well, anyhow," he didn't want to get too sentimental.  "I'm really
glad, you're here.  I'm sorry I acted like such a prick at first."

"Forget it," I said.  "It just doesn't matter anymore."

We were lying there trying to fall asleep, and he was making funny
sighing noises.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said.  "Nothing."

"It's not nothing," I pressed him.  "What is it?  Tell me.  You know
you can tell me, don't you?"

"Yes," he said.

"You can tell me anything," I pressed further.  Would he ever???
"What is it?"  I touched his face again, and stroked it a few times.

"I'm going crazy," he said.  "It's just that I need a blowjob so
bad.  I haven't shot a load in such a long time."

"You haven't?" I asked.

"You know that," he said.  "We live together."

"Yes," I said.  And then nervously I asked him,  "Did you want me to
do it for you?"

"Did you ever give anybody head?"

"No," I said truthfully.  "Never."

"Forget it," he said.  "Just forget I mentioned it.   I don't want to
presume on our friendship.  I don't want you to do anything you don't
want to do.  I know some guys in prison rape other guys, but I would
never do anything like that.  You know that, don't you?"

"Yes," I said.  "I know that."

He twisted around a little bit and sighed a couple of times.

"I don't like to see you like this," I said.   "I want to do
something to help you."

"No.  Absolutely not," he answered, and turned slightly away from me.

"Please.  Please let me do it for you.  I want to.  It would be an
honor.  I would be proud.  Please."

"You really want to?"  he asked me.

"A lot," I said.  "Let me help you out.  Please."

"Well, okay," he said slowly and rested more comfortably on his back
again.

"What do you want me to do?"  I asked.

"Crawl down between my legs."

I followed his instructions as he guided me.  He was very hard.  And I
could feel the heat radiating out of his instrument onto my face.  I
began by grasping and licking it, and getting it good and wet, just as he
told me to do.  He had me take each of his large balls in my mouth and
suckle on them.  Finally he pressed my face down over his dick, and it
entered my mouth.  We spent about two hours, with me sucking him, and him
working my head around into different angles.  He was determined to break
me of my gag reflex, so I would always enjoy nursing on his fleshy
milkbottle.

"Oh. You're so good," he crooned in a low voice.  "Watch your teeth.
Wrap your lips around your teeth, honey.  We don't want teeth."

After a half hour or so, I learned to retract them.  This wasn't so bad,
but I would have to inform Rosenbee about the latest change in our
relationship.  I wanted him to know what a sacrifice I was making for
International Re.

"Oh, baby.  You suck like a pro.  You sure you never sucked a cock
before?"

I lifted my mouth off it for a moment.  Only to answer him.  "Never.
Never.  I swear it.  You're the first."

"Do you like it, baby?  Do you like sucking on my big prick?"

"Yes.  Yes," I said.  "I love it.  I love you."

He laughed.  "Now don't go getting all sentimental on me.  It's just a
cock.  It's not true love."

"Yes," I agreed, and I laughed a little, as I was blowing him.  I
didn't want him to get scared and shy off.  "No love," I assured him.
"Just a blowjob."  I laughed again and he was reassured.

I noticed his rhythm start to change, and his hands were more forceful on
my head.  He was pulling on my hair now.  That hurt.  He started making
dry gargling sounds, and suddenly he forced my head all the way down,
until my nose hit his curly black hair.  The tip of his cock was all the
way down my throat, but I felt every twitch, as it jetted its juice down
my esophagus.  Only when he withdrew it, did his prickhead glide over my
tongue, and I could taste his flavors.

Once I had done it once, there was obviously no reason for me not to
continue, and I made sure he enjoyed himself thoroughly every night.

One visiting day, Ethan got a visit from his two sisters, Irma and
Elsie.  They were plain looking farm-women in their early thirties.  You
could see that they adored their big brother. They would probably have
done anything for him.  The reason I was in the visitor's room and saw
them was that I also had a visitor.  My brother, who was in reality, Matt
Rosenbee.  He had disguised himself with a fake moustache and wire-rimmed
glasses, in case there would be anyone at the prison who had ever met
him.

I was glad he had come.  It would save me the phone call I had been
planning to make.

As they led me to my window, I passed behind Ethan's back and saw his
two sisters handing the phone back and forth between them to speak to
him.

"How's it going?"  Rosenbee asked me, holding the telephone to his
ear.

"Better than I could have possibly expected," I told him.  "But there
have been some slight modifications in our relationship.  I just hope
International Re appreciates the lengths to which I am going on their
behalf."

"And on your own behalf, also," he stated dryly.  "What lengths?"

"Our friendship has become more personal."

"How do you mean?  Be specific."

"It means I am sucking him off," I whispered angrily into the phone.
"I'm doing faggot things for International Re.  When this is all over,
I want you to remember how I sacrificed my very masculinity for the
company."

"I told you.  Get the information we need and you'll be well
compensated."

"Yes.  Thank you," I said.

We chatted a few minutes about office politics, and then visiting hour
was over.

"Thank you for coming to see me," I told him.

"Keep up the good work," he encouraged me.  "We at International Re
are proud of our own `deep throat'."

One guard escorted Ethan and me back to the cell.

"I saw your sisters," I told him.

"Yeah.  Irma and Elsie.  Good kids."

"Yes.  They seem very nice," I assured him.

"Who came to see you?"

"My older brother, Matthew," I lied.  "I was surprised to see him.  We
don't get along very well.   He's very religious and doesn't want to
have anything to do with me since I held up the bank."

"Oh.  I always wondered what you were in for.  I didn't want to seem
like I was prying, so I didn't ask.  Bank robbery?"

"Yes," I lied again.  "Armed bank robbery."

"Okay," he said slowly, digesting the information.

"How about you?" I asked naively.  "What are you in for?"

"I stole some jewels," he laughed.  "The caught me, but they didn't
catch the jewels."  He slapped his knee and roared.

I tried to look amazed.  "You mean you've still got them?"

"Yep," he said proudly, smirking.

"That's great," I said jubilantly.  "That's terrific.  When you get
out of here, you'll be a rich man."

"Yep," he smirked.

"Where are they?" I asked eagerly.

He just kept smirking at me.  He didn't answer.

"Where are you hiding them?" I tried again.

"Now, baby.  You know I can't tell you that."  He changed the subject
to something about doing pushups in the yard, and I decided it was better
not to pose another question at this point.  Maybe some night, when I was
giving him head, and he was in a vulnerable mood????

But that night, when I crawled between his legs and lowered my head, he
suddenly put his hands over his large cock.

"No," he said.

"No?" I asked.  I couldn't believe my ears.  My feelings were actually
hurt.  "Why don't you want me to suck you?" I asked, almost crying.
My voice was very tremulous.  "Did I do something wrong?"  Now the
tears were rolling down my cheeks.  What was the matter with me?  But
suddenly the idea that he didn't want me any more was breaking my heart.

"Ssshhh.  Ssshhh."  Now he was stroking my hair, and my face.  He was
the one who was soothing me.  "It's just that I thought, maybe we could
be a little more intimate," he suggested sheepishly.

"How do you mean?"  I asked.  I really didn't have the slightest idea.

"I mean.  We're such good friends.  Such really good friends.  I was
thinking how nice it would be to cradle you in my arms, and well......
well.... to be inside you.  Do you know what I mean?"

"I think so," I nodded.  I sniffled a little, but I was relieved.  I
wasn't losing him.  I would just have to let him fuck me.  Rosenbee
would hear about this.  My bonus would have to go up again.  Higher.
Much, much higher.

He reached behind the pillow and pulled out a small jar.  "I've been
thinking about this for a while now, so I got us something to make it
easier."   I nodded.

"Lie down on your belly and spread your legs," he said.  He moved aside
so that I would have the full width of the bunk.  Then he crawled down
and straddled me below my buttocks, and I could feel his fingers, wet and
greasy, seeking entrance between my bottomcheeks.  Into my virginal
rectum.

He lay down alongside me, on his side, and kissed my neck tenderly, in
appreciation of what I was going to do for him, as he widened my ring,
and dilated my lower tunnel.   His hand gently twirled inside me, until
it almost felt nice.   Then I saw him scoop some more goop out of the
jar, and slather it all over his obscenely long, thick member.   I
didn't even want to think about what that would feel like inside me.  I
shuddered a little, but afraid as I was, I was starting to want it.

And then he started to move into me.  My eyes flew open in wonderment.
It was as if the last piece had been placed in the jigsaw puzzle of my
body.  I had been completed.  This wonderful man had built a nest for his
genitalia inside of me.  And now there was the gentle pull and tug, pull
and tug, pull and tug that was stimulating every membrane I possessed,
and my very soul was soaring into the boundless heavens.

My god.  I liked getting fucked.  And if I could parlay this into an
obscenely large payoff from a grateful insurance company, so much the
better.  I was going to tell Matt Rosenbee about the big cock that had
violated my masculinity.  That had faggotized me (temporarily, of
course.)  But I was not going to let him know how good it felt.  I would
keep that to myself.

Ethan was ever so slow.  Ever so gentle.  Like we had all night.  Like we
had forever.  We were just glued together.  Our hips working together
with the perfection of nanochip technology.  I didn't mind that he was
licking the back of my neck, and behind my left ear.  I didn't mind at
all.

"You like it, baby?" he asked me.

"Oh, Ethan," I sighed.  "How can you even ask?  Never in my whole life
have....."

"Then tell me, honey.  Tell me how my big cock feels in your ass," he
urged me.  "Talk to me, sweetness."  He gently hunched his ass forward,
and his hairy balls tickled my scrotum.

"I want your big cock in me, Ethan.  Now and forever.  Never deny me the
pleasure of having your big cock fucking my pussyass."

I heard him catch his breath.  The word `pussyass' had captured his
imagination.  I had known it would.

"Fuck my cunt, lover.  Fuck my hot tight cunt."

I guess he really liked cunt when he was not in the lockup, because every
time I said cunt, he got a little more reckless in his rhythm.   I knew I
was going to bring him to completion if I continued in my
female-submissive verbal mode, but he was liking it so much.  I felt it
was my duty to make it as good for him as possible.

Now he was gasping and he was no longer gentle.  And he was hammering my
assflesh noisily.  Slap. Slap. Slap.  They probably heard us on the next
corridor.  I would be the laughing stock of the prison, while I was doing
my pushups in the yard tomorrow.  But, what the hell..........

"Oh, honey.  I'm gonna come.  I'm gonna shoot my hot babyseed into
your pussy.  Do you want my baby, baby?"

"Yes.  I want your baby.  Give me your baby, baby.  Fill me with your
thick hot white creamsauce."

"Yes.  It's coming.  Get ready.  Here it comes.  Milk it out of me.
Milk me."

He slammed and I milked.  He slammed and I milked.

He screamed and I screamed.  He screamed and I screamed.

"AAAAARRRGGGHHHH."

"YAAAAAA.  YAAAAA."   That was me.

"AAAAAARRRGGGGHHHHHH.   CHCHE.  CHCHE.  CHCHE."  It was like he had the
hiccups.

I could feel the burning liquid filling all the empty spaces of my lower
digestive track.  He had stopped spurting, but I had not stopped
milking.  I had found a rhythm, and I could maintain it forever.   And I
had not come, so I was still a little horny.  But he had come, and that
was what really mattered.  My man had come inside my body.  My man.   I
loved him.  I loved him.  No I didn't, I tried to tell myself.  It's
just fucking.  Not love.  If you keep thinking love, you'll get hurt.
Besides I was just doing all this for the money, wasn't I?  I was gay
for pay.  Only for pay.

I turned around and kissed him playfully on the lips and lightly
scratched his shiny scalp.  "Thank you.  That was wonderful."

"I know," he said.  "It really was."

"So tell me about the jewels," I said.

"They're really magnificent.  Diamonds and rubies and sapphires and
emeralds.  Rings, and earrings, and necklaces, and bracelets, and
chokers, and brooches, and tiaras, and...."

"They sound so lovely," I opined.  "But where are they?"

"Never you mind."

"But aren't you afraid someone will find them and take them, while
you're in prison?"

"No.  They're very well hidden."

"Tell me," I begged him.

He just bent forward and kissed me on the lips.  "Ssshhh.  Quiet.
Let's rest now."

I shut my mouth, and after a little while, we both fell asleep.  He held
me in his strong arms all night long.

I got on the phone to Rosenbee the next day.  Fortunately no one was
around, so I could talk.  But I still kept my hand in front of my mouth
as I hissed into the receiver.  "He's fucking me.  Last night he put
his cock up my ass."

"Good," said Rosenbee.

"Good!?!?" I asked.  "That's good???"

"Yes.  Maybe he'll trust you enough to tell you."

"He's still not talking.  He's just fucking me.  This is really going
to cost you Rosenbee."

"I told you we'd take care of you, Westin.  Get us back the fifty
million in jewels, and you'll get everything you want.  I won't screw
you."

"No.  Only Ethan Crosley gets to screw me," I said bitterly.

We said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone.  The guard opened the door
for me, and escorted me out into the yard to do my pushups.  Everybody
was smiling and looking at me.  Every time I passed one of the mean tough
ones, he would leer, laugh and grab his crotch.  Offering me his cock and
balls.  This was really embarrassing.  I just faced straight ahead, and
went over to the calisthenics mats to do my pushups.

That night, as you may have imagined, Ethan fucked me again.  First he
made me suck him, and then we repeated last night's anal intercourse.
It seemed like we were in a routine, when suddenly everything stopped.
It seemed as if he had lost interest in me.  Again.  What had I done?
How could this be?  This couldn't be happening to me.  I confronted him.

"You haven't touched me in a week," I complained.

"Yes," he admitted, sadly.  "I'm sorry about that.  I'm really
sorry."

"But what did I do?  Tell me.  Please.  Tell me."  I was starting to
cry a little.

"I didn't want to hurt you.  I'm really sorry."

"Don't you find me attractive, anymore?"

"That's just it, man," he made an `I can't help it' gesture with
his hands.

"But what?"  I still didn't understand.

"You're a guy.  Don't you see?"

"Of course, I'm a guy."

"I know I don't got a lot of choice here in the prison, but I'm really
not into guys.  I'm sorry."

What a cruel blow.

But then he continued, and I saw a ray of hope.  "If only you looked
more like a woman.  That would turn me on. "  He started nodding.
"Yeah.  That would really turn me on."

"And how could I do that?" I asked.

"Well.  Maybe you could wear some pretty frilly underthings, and a short
trampy skirt, and wear a lot of slutty face make-up.  That might do it
for me.  I think I could get excited."

"You do?" I asked.

"Yes.  Definitely," he began nodding his head happily.

"But how would I do that?" I asked.

"I was hoping you'd say yes," he admitted.  "So I have everything you
need over in that paper bag on the shelf there."

He had planned all this.  He was a devil.  He had everything I would need
to excite him.   He walked across the cell and got the paper bag.  He sat
next to me on the bottom bunk, as he turned the bag upside down and
emptied out its treasures on our bed.

"Go ahead.  Do it now.  I want to see you."

"Okay," I said.  I stripped off my orange prison suit, and pulled a
pair of lacy pink panties over my bottom.  The minute I had them in
place, he began to rub his palm around on my latex covered bottom.

"Yeah.  Yeah," he said.  "Nice.  So nice."

Then I put on a little short trampy skirt and a low cut blouse, with
puffy shoulder sleeves.   He nodded at me and smiled, and began gently
feeling me and pinching me all over.

"Tomorrow, we'll shave you all over," he promised me.  "So you'll be
real smooth.  Lady smooth.  You'll be so nice.  I love smooth skin.  And
no more hair cuts.  The only hair on your body will be what flows down
your back from the top of your head."

I nodded.  What could I do?  He had it all planned.   But I had already
decided I was not going to tell Rosenbee about this.  I had gotten in too
deep.  I was on my own now.  If I told him what I had no resorted to, I
would have been totally disgraced.  I could never have shown my face in
public again.

Speaking of my face, Ethan was applying a pink flesh-colored foundation
to my cheeks, blending it around my face lovingly.  He painted my eyes.
He added a little redness to my cheeks, and now he was artistically
applying lipstick to my lips.  Rembrandt.  He pulled his head back and
studied his creation.  Then he began making my mouth a little fuller.
When he was satisfied, he did one final thing.  He added a little black
beauty mark on the right side of my chin.  He walked me over to the
little mirror above the toilet.  An unrecognizable slut stared back at
me.  But if Ethan was happy, so was I.

They started calling lights out, and I was about to get undressed.

"No.  Stay like that," Ethan said.  "I want you like that."

If this was what it was going to take to recapture his interest....
Well.  So be it.

Before we got into bed, he did one last thing.  He had a little atomizer,
and he spread a tiny cloud of floral cologne all over me.  I felt as if I
had suddenly parachuted into a vast garden of gardenias.  I sneezed.

"Bless you," said Ethan as the lights went out.  He stripped off his
orange uniform and we got into bed.  He immediately began to nuzzle me,
and I couldn't help but notice that his cock was rock hard.  But Rock
hard.  Glory.  I was getting fucked by my man again.  Thank heaven.

The guards were doing him a lot of favors now.  Every day, strange new
packages were arriving at the cell door.  And they were all for me.
Beautiful new outfits.  Nylon stockings.  All the latest hippest
fragrances.

Now he was kissing me all the time.  At night in bed when he was on top
of me, facing me, fucking me, he was chewing away at my full, and now,
swollen lips.

"I love the taste of lipstick," he confided in me.  "It's so fucking
hot.  I really know I've got a woman, when I taste lipstick."  And then
he jammed his tongue into his woman's mouth again.  She sucked on it.

And he did something so sweet.  A few times he let me come.  He wouldn't
touch my penis, but after he had come in my ass, he gave me a little
plastic cup with a cover and let me jack off into it.  He said he didn't
want my cum all over the bed, which I could very well understand.  When I
finished, he would always take the plastic cup and put a cover on it, and
then he would yell for the guard.  In the middle of the night.  Was he
crazy?  And why did he want the guard?  He gave the guard the little
plastic cup and whispered something in his ear.  It was all very
strange.  But I didn't dare question him.  I knew that in his mind, I
was now female, and the female was to be submissive and obedient to the
male of the species.

Eventually.  I should have known.  He had another request.  "Your chest
is so fucking flat," he complained.  "I got nothing to grab on to."

"I'm sorry," I said, apologizing for my physical condition.  There was
just no pleasing this man.  But then he spoke, and I realized there was.

"Hormones?"  I repeated in confused stupefaction.

"You'd look so beautiful with boobs," he said longingly.  "And you
wouldn't have to shave anymore.  You'd be so sweet and smooth.  So
beautiful."

"All right," I sighed.  " I don't care anymore.  Whatever you want."

He broke into a big smile and went over to the shelf, to get a package
which had arrived just that day, but which he hadn't yet opened.  He
opened it now.   He took out a large prescription bottle of pills.  He
filled a glass with water and handed me the glass and two pills.

"No time like the present to get started," he said.

I marveled how Ethan always planned ahead.  He was always well prepared
for any contingency.  Whatever was in his mind, had already been arranged
for.  Always.  No wonder he was a master criminal.  I swallowed the pills
and looked down at my chest.  No change.  I guessed it wasn't going to
happen that quickly.

Then he called the guard and whispered something in his ears.  I heard
the word `refrigerator', and the guard disappeared.  Five minutes later
he was back with a small cold vial and a needle, which he handed to Ethan
through the bars.

Ethan stuck the needle through the cork of the vial, and carefully filled
the needle, squeezing out a drop to make sure there was no air in the
needle.  "Let me see your ass," he said.

"Oh, Ethan," I cried.  "No needles.  I hate needles."

"The pills aren't enough.  You need the needles too.  You'll get used
to them.  Show me your ass."

I lay down on the bottom bunk and lifted my skirt.  Ethan pulled down my
panties, and swabbed my cheek with some alcohol-dipped cotton.  The
needle plunged into my flesh.  I could feel the femininity coursing
through my veins.  No longer was I just dressing as a woman.  That woman
had now entered my endocrine system.

After that, Ethan seemed satisfied with me.  Over the next year, my chest
filled out, my ass got heavy, (I thought I looked like a cello.)  but
Ethan was pleased.  That was what counted.  And it was a relief not to
have to shave.  My skin was pink and smooth all over.  And my hair rested
on my shoulders.  Ethan bought me clip-on earrings, since my ears
weren't pierced.

The time was approaching when Ethan would be released, and he had told me
nothing.  And what was I to do?  A male investigator with tits and a big
ass?   How could I ever go back?  What would become of me?  I tried not
to think about it.

But at night, in bed with Ethan.  In our tight little lower bunk.
Paradise.  His lips on mine.  His arms around me.  His cock inside me.
Why did it ever have to end?  Why? Why? Why?

I just clutched him closer, and wrapped my receptive body around his.  My
arms and legs enfolded him, as if I could keep him a prisoner within me
forever.  But his prisoner days were coming to an end.  That was my
problem.

And I had failed in my mission.  Failed miserable.  I knew no more about
the jewels today than I had known two years ago on the day I entered
Sandusky Prison.  Rosenbee knew that Ethan was about to be released and
called me at least once a week for an update.  I had told him to call
me.  Not to visit.  I didn't want him to see me as I was.  How would I
ever face him again?

"I'm sorry," I apologized.  "He just won't tell me.  When he gets
out, you'll just have to get me released.  Right away.  I need a
vacation.  I need to get away.  I'm very tired."

"I'll take care of it," he promised me.

I was tired.  It was all too much for me.  I felt like crying all the
time.  I was moody.  I was morose.  Except for my little shrunken penis,
I was for all intents and purposes glandularly a woman.  A feminine
bundle of quivering emotions.  And it seemed like every day now was my
time of the month.

Ethan could see what was happening to me, and that night he gathered me
in his arms and held me as my curvaceous body was wracked with sobs.

"What's the matter, baby?" he asked me.

"You know what's the matter," I sobbed.  "You're getting out of here
soon, and I'll be all alone.  You're the best thing that's ever
happened to me, and I don't want to lose you."

"Ssshhh," he comforted me.  "I'm not getting out till June 22nd.
That's still two months away.  Do you have any idea when you're getting
out?" he asked me.

"June 22nd," I answered.  I didn't really know that, but I could
arrange it.

"That's wonderful, baby.  We'll be getting out of here together," he
said, kissing my ear.

"And then what?" I cried.  "Look at me.  I can never go home again.
What's going to happen to me?  I can't get along by myself.  I depend
on you for everything.  Oh, Ethan.  I don't want to live without you.
I'd rather die."

"Ssshhh," He kissed me again.  He hugged me again.  But then he got out
of bed.  I saw his strong naked body cross the cell to the shelf.  He
reached up for a little package.  I admired his powerful hairy buttocks,
and the large hanging testicles.  They were so beautiful.  Then he turned
and walked back toward the bunk, and his large swinging meat kept
flipping out toward me.  I wanted it so badly.  It was so beautiful.  And
his muscular thighs.......He sat down on the edge of the bunk.  He took my
small hand in his larger hand.  Then he said to me, "I want you to marry
me."

"What?"

"You heard me.  I want you to marry me.  Look.  I'm getting down on my
knees."  He did.  He got down on his knees, right beside the lower bunk,
and still held my hand in his.  He looked up into my eyes.  "I love
you."

"You do?" I asked.  I couldn't believe this wonderful thing was
happening to me.

"I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.  Look,"
he said.  He opened the little package.  In it was a little box.  He
lifted the lid.  It was the most beautiful diamond ring.  An engagement
ring.

"Ohhhh," I breathed. "It's so beautiful."

"Put it on."

I put it on.  I twisted my hand in every direction and admired the
sparkle of the ring, even in the nighttime darkness inside the cell.
There was a little moonlight coming through the bars in the high window.

"It's so beautiful," I said.  "I love it.  Is it one of THE jewels?"

"No," he said.  "I bought this.  For you."

"Oh, my dearest darling," I said, and I threw my arms around his
thickish neck.  "Yes.  Of course, I'll marry you.  I love you so very
much.  I always have."   And then I thought of something and fretted,
"but how can we get married.  I'm a man.  They don't allow a man to
marry a man.  And I want us to have a normal marriage.   I want us to be
like all the other happy young couples on the block."

"We will be, dear.  I've planned everything.  Your wishes will all come
true.  Leave everything to me."

I knew that Ethan did plan everything ahead.  I knew he would keep his
promise to me.  I didn't know how, but I trusted him.  Completely.

Later as we lay blended together in the lower bunk, his cock moving
comfortably inside me, his lips against me, (we were on our sides, and my
back was facing him-just to keep you clear on our position.)  he asked
me.  "If you were a woman, what name would you like?"

I had never thought of that.  "I don't know.  I can't imagine.  My
name has always been Warren.  I never thought of anything else."

"Well, think," he said, as he fucked into me and his scratchy hairs
rubbed against the itch on my left buttcheek.

"Courtney?" I asked.

"Absolutely not," he said.

"I suppose you're right," I conceded.  "I certainly would never want
to be another Kimberly or Brittany."

"God, no," he agreed.

"Well, how about Wanda.  It starts with a W.  And it's not that far
away from Warren."

"I like Wanda," he said.  "From now on, I'm going to call you Wanda,
baby.  Just so I get used to it."

"Okay," I said.

I felt another instroke, and squeezed my asspussy around his large dick.
Delicious.

"Oh, Wanda, honey.  That's so great.  So great.  Squeeze that ass,
Wanda, baby.  You really know how to give your man a good time, don't
you, Wanda, baby?"

"Yes," I said.  "I do.  Because you taught me.  You taught me
everything I know."

"I did.  Didn't I?"  He laughed.  He had just realized that he had
made me the woman I was.  Totally.  I was entirely his creation.  I had
been spun out of his dreams and made real by him.  He owned me
completely.  Body and soul.  But every day I worried.  I worried.  No
matter how much he reassured me, I didn't know how our dreams could ever
come to be.

The day of his release came.  June 22nd.  Ethan was being released at
noon.  I had called Rosenbee and told him he had to get me out of this
place at the same time.  He took care of his part of the bargain.  My
papers came through and I was due to be released one half hour later than
Ethan.  Rosenbee wanted me to come right back to the office, but I said
`no'.  `Absolutely not'.  I told him, I was so totally wrecked from
my two-year ordeal that I was going on vacation.  He asked me where, and
I told him I hadn't decided.

"Do you need money?" he asked me.

"Of course, I need money," I snapped at him.

"I'll wire you ten thousand dollars."

"You can wire me my two years back salary, plus ten thousand dollars,"
I yelled into the phone.

"Okay," he agreed.  "That's fair."

"And make some arrangements.  I don't want the check to say
International Re.  It would be very bad for me, if the wrong person saw
it, if you know what I mean."

"I'll take care of it," he assured me.

The check came, the day before my release.  It was from a numbered
account in Switzerland.  I'd always suspected that International Re
might be some kind of  rogue corporation.  And that maybe they had secret
dealings.  And that maybe they had secret money in far off hidden
accounts.  Nothing would ever surprise me anymore.  I was a criminal
now.  I had a record.  I was wise to all kinds of chicanery.

Just before noon on the 22nd, Ethan gathered me in his long arms in our
cell and kissed me.  "What's going to happen?"  I asked him.

"I'll wait for you outside the gate," he promised.  "I have
everything planned out.  Don't worry."

But he was so closed mouth.  He wouldn't tell me what his plans were.
Suppose I came out the gate and he wasn't there.  Suppose he abandoned
me?  I would have to kill myself.  My life was over.   Why did everything
have to be such a big secret with him?  I bit my lip.

At noon, they escorted Ethan to the gate and sent him out into the
world.  At 12:30 it was my turn.  The guard came to get me.  "This is
how you're leaving?"  he asked me.  I had not donned the male clothing
they had returned to me.  I was leaving in a beautiful green silk dress,
with long hair, and full make-up, with a darling little pillbox hat (with
a veil) plus a green matching purse with a long golden chain.  I really
looked very nice.

"This is how I'm leaving," I told him.  He shrugged his shoulders, and
walked me to the gate.  I held my breath as the gate swung open, but
yes.  He was there.  My darling Ethan was waiting for me.  Scraping his
heels in the dirt road.   I ran into his arms and we kissed and kissed.
In the sunlight.  We kissed and we kissed.

The first thing we did was to go to a bank and cash my check.  Ethan had
bought a suitcase and we took the whole thing in cash.  Hundred dollar
bills.  It was heavy.  Then Ethan showed me all the paperwork.  He had
spent a fortune.  He had bought me a whole new identity.  There was a
birth certificate.  I was now Wanda Warner.  I had been born a little
girl.  There was a passport.  There was a membership card in The American
Contract Bridge League.  (I would have to learn Bridge.)  I was a whole
new person.

How I wished that were really true.  I still had that hideous little
shriveled male organ between my legs.  I reminded Ethan of this.  He told
me that he had arranged for that to be taken care of as well.

We flew to an East European city under our new identities.  Ethan also
had a new identity.  Carson Colby.  But he told me that at home, I could
always call him Ethan.  Only I would have to be careful when other people
were around.

In East Europe, they checked me into a hospital, and did surgery.  Not
only did they transform my shrunken penis into a perfect vagina, but they
enlarged my breasts considerably.  I now was a 36C.   They also did some
delicate work on my larynx, so that my voice would be more ladylike.  I
was now a mezzo soprano.

We spent six months in Europe.  Ethan wanted to be sure I was totally
healed, before we left.  At the hospital, they told me I would always
have to keep myself open one way or another.  But thanks to Ethan, I
didn't have to buy a piece of plastic.  Ethan was eager to ram his cock
into my new vagina many times a day and every night.  He just loved my
pussy.  And how he licked and squeezed my 36C's.  He even sat on my
chest and pressed my boobies around his dick, and fucked my titties.  It
felt so nice.  And I loved having him in my new pussy.  But given the
choice, I would always prefer to have his cock steaming back and forth in
my asspussy.  That was where he had first deflowered me, and I had grown
to love that feeling.

Ethan disappeared for a few days, and came back with the most beautiful
gifts for me.  Diamonds.  Rubies.  Sapphires.  Emeralds.  Rings.
Earrings. (My ears were now pierced.)  Bracelets.  Necklaces.
Everything.

"THE jewels?" I asked him.

"Yes," he said.  "These are for you.  I love precious stones.  The
shapes, the colors, the sparkle.  I want to see my woman glittering in my
priceless gemstones."

"I love you so much," I told him again.

That evening we were married at the City Hall.  I held a beautiful
bouquet, and wore diamonds and sapphires to go with my simple blue gown.
Two of the nurses from the hospital were our witnesses.  They cried.  So
did I.

"Where are we going to live," I asked him.

"Everything is taken care of," he assured me.

I was sure of that.  I just wanted a little clue.

We flew to Prince Richard Island off the coast of Canada.  At the
airport, Ethan picked up a car that had been purchased for him.  We drove
out to our new family parsnip farm.  Ethan was going to grow parsnips.
Actually, he was already growing parsnips.  There was already a whole
working crew at the farm.  Irma and Elsie were there.  They had hired
laborers, and gotten everything going.  They were remarkable women.  I
would grow to love them.

When we got to the farm, both Irma and Elsie ran out to the car to greet
us.  They kissed their brother and they hugged me tightly.

"It's so wonderful to have a new sister," said Elsie.

"Welcome to the family," said Irma, who kissed me sweetly on the cheek.

"Thank you.  Thank you," I said.  "This is so wonderful for me.  I've
never really had a family.  I always wanted a family.  I always dreamed
that one day I would be married, and have children."  I shook my head
sadly.  "But I guess that is not to be.  I can never have children."

"We have a surprise for you," said Elsie.  "Come with us," she said
to Ethan and me.  "Both of you."

We went into the large farmhouse and climbed the oak stairs to the second
floor.  Irma took my hand and guided me down to the end of a long
hallway.  She opened the door.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  There were
mobiles dangling from the ceiling all around the room.  And there were
two little cribs.  In each little crib was a beautiful little baby.  They
were both sleeping.  They both had blue blankets, so I knew that they
were both boys.  One of them had his thumb in his mouth, and the other
one had fallen asleep clutching his little penis.  They were so
precious.  I wanted to pick them up and kiss them and squeeze them, but I
didn't want to wake them.

"But whose babies are these?"  I asked.  "Are they yours?" I asked
the sisters.

"In a way," said Ethan.  "But now they're yours."

"Mine?  How can that be?"  I was delighted, but mystified.  Had I
adopted them?

"Which is which?" Ethan asked his sisters.

"That's little Warren," said Elsie, pointing to the one with his thumb
in his mouth.  Naturally.

"And that's little Ethan Junior," said Irma proudly, pointing to the
one who was holding his tiny penis.  Naturally.

"Let me explain," said Ethan.  "Little Warren here.  Well, his
biological mother is Elsie, which makes me his biological uncle, really.
And his biological father is you, my dear."  He smiled at me.  I was
totally confused.  "But now, of course, you will be his mother and I
will be his father."

"I see," I said.  But I didn't.  "And what about Little Ethan
Junior?"  Maybe that would be simpler for me.

"It's a similar situation," Ethan continued.  "Irma is his biological
mother, which makes me his biological uncle, and you, my dear, are his
biological father.  But now, of course, you will be his mother and I will
be his father."

I still understood nothing.  "But what about Irma and Elsie?"

"They will be the boys' devoted maiden aunts.  It's just so much
simpler that way."

This was so ridiculous.  I was their mother, but I was really their
father.  And that was certainly impossible.  I certainly had never had
sex with either Irma or Elsie.  Nor would I have wanted to.

"I still don't understand," I shook my head in complete befuddlement.
"What are you telling me?"

"Remember those times when I let you ejaculate into a plastic cup?"

"Yes," I said.  I remembered that.

"Remember when I gave the cups to the guards?"

"Yes."

"I had him refrigerate your sperm until Irma and Elsie could come up to
get it.  They took it right to a fertility center, and we were lucky.
They both got pregnant immediately.  They bore our children for us,
darling."

I was speechless.  I didn't know what to say.  After a few minutes, I
just began to cry.  What a sweet unselfish thing they had done.  I was a
father.  No.  I was a mother.  Of two beautiful perfect little baby
boys.  My Warren, and My Ethan Junior.  I looked at the two of them, with
love bursting from my heart.  Warren teethed on his thumb, and Ethan
squeezed his teeny peeny.

As the years passed, we lived and worked together in the old farmhouse.
Ethan had had documents forged for the boys, so that they would never
know that I had originally been their father, not their mother.  And that
Ethan had originally been their uncle, not their father.

I watched them grow strong and tall with pride in my heart.  My two
handsome sons.

"What's for dinner, ma?" Young Ethan would ask me.

""Broiled parsnips in tomato sauce," I would answer.  What domestic
happiness.

And having Irma and Elsie in the house was a joy for me.  They helped me
with the cooking.  They helped me with the cleaning.  They helped me with
the laundry.  We really were sisters.  The three of us.

And my handsome husband.  Working hard all day in the fields.  Plowing.
Planting. Pulling.  Parsnips. Parsnips. Parsnips.  We would never go
hungry.

Every year, a few days before our anniversary, Ethan would fly off
somewhere, and return on the day of our anniversary with a suitcase full
of jewels.   Little by little.   Year by year.  I was getting all of the
stones I had gone into prison to find.  I had found them, now, and they
were mine.  Ethan promised me that by our twenty-fifth anniversary, our
silver anniversary, I would have them all.

We kept them in a safe room in the basement of the farmhouse, but every
night, Ethan would select certain ones for me to wear in bed.  He liked
to see me all decked out in dazzling ruby, or emerald, or sapphire, or
diamond necklaces, bracelets, rings, earrings, while he fucked my pussy
or my ass.  He said he had always gotten excited seeing a naked woman
wearing jewels.  It was his special fetish.  He told me the stones I wore
gave him a raging hard-on.  Well, maybe they did.  He certainly always
had one.

There was this one ruby pendant, he especially liked.  It was on a long
golden chain, and it dangled down, in between my breasts.   He liked to
lick it, as he licked my boobies.  He said it was smooth and cool to the
tongue.  Like an expensive red ice cube.

His tongue just tickled me, I kept squirming and laughing, and at that
point, he would sink that hard cock into one of my orifices.  One or the
other.  And I would throw my arms and legs around him and just cuddle
him, and treasure him.  I had the perfect life.  A lovely home.  Two
darling sons.  And my wonderful, wonderful husband.  My beloved Ethan.  I
had finally evolved into who I was apparently born to be.  I was Ethan's
wife.