The Bed
I meet Stan at a furniture store. I was shopping for a new bed. The old bed we had from our early years had finally given out. This was going to be my husband’s present to me for our anniversary. I was looking at another queen size bed when I felt someone over my shoulder. I turned and came up short as I was staring right into his eyes. They were grey with a hint of green. He smiled and introduced himself.

“If you are looking for a bed you should think of something for relaxation and a well as recreation: something elegant, yet practical” Stan took me to the canopy beds. “Most people spend a third of their lives in a bedroom, yet hardly spend anytime thinking about a bed. You will want something to lounge on, curl up in with a good book, sit on while you dress, a place to rest, and a place to sleep of course.”

Stan showed me a number of king sized canopy beds, he points out the features of each one. At some point I knew he was going to make some lewd comment or maybe I would catch him leering at me as I bent over the examine details he pointed out, but he never did. I had been looking at beds all day and had had a number of sale people crack jokes about the other uses of beds. I was expecting the other shoe to drop at any moment. Instead Stan just moved to another bed.

It was a beautiful black walnut canopy bed with a high headboard and a raised footboard. Stan stepped back as if he was showing off his most prized item. I moved forward. The wood was dark, rich and warm to the touch. The bed made me want to relax, without thinking I just sat on the bed. Relief poured into my feet. They were killing me. I just want to lie there and forget about everything.

“See? The bed is at the perfect height for you. Notice how you feel almost as if you are floating? The mattress takes the weight of you body evenly, so there is no place that feels too much pressure.

I was melting into the bed as he spoke. I decided I needed to have some decorum, so I sat up and leaned against the one of the bedpost. My hands wrapped around the hard dark wood for support.

“Notice there are no sharp edges on the bed frames, everything is designed to be relaxing as possible.” Stan smiled.

“I’ll take it.” It came out like a whisper.

“Great! I’ll have it delivered at your convince.”

That day turned out to be Tuesday morning. Stan came with two workers. Stan and I watched them assemble the bed. Stan held a package under one arm, and when the job was complete and the workers left, he opened the package. It was a set of silk sheets and a mattress pad. Without a word Stan made the bed quickly adjusting the corners and tucking in the bottom sheet. The sheets were white silk and defined the bed in sharp contrast with the dark wood. I stood at the foot of the bed out of his way. I wanted to say something, but words failed me. It was beautiful. Stan stood next to me as he unfurled the top sheet over the bed. The sheet billowed as it caught the air and then settled. The rush of air made me aware how close Stan was to me.

Stan bent me over the footboard of the bed. He threw my sundress over my head exposing my backside to him. He yanked down my panties to my ankles and told me to step out. Stan used his feet and legs to spread mine own apart. He entered me fast and hard. I was barely wet and I yelped in surprise as he bottomed in me. Stan pumped into me slowly picking up speed as I became wetter. My first orgasm overtook me by surprise. Five minute ago I was hardly thinking about sex, but now I could for the life of me figure out how I had go so long without it. I knew then at that moment Stan would be my lover. I was his as long as he wanted me.

Stan reached underneath me and starting pinching and teasing my clitoris. I came again screaming into the bed sheets, under his fierce pounding and the attention his fingers were give me. The angle he had me over the footboard caused his cock to hit that special place inside me that my husband finds by just shear luck. I made fist with the bed sheets curling them in my hands trying to keep from moaning too loud. I could feel my own juices running down my legs.

“You’re trying to maintain control. Now we can’t have that now can we?” Stan changed to a shallow motion so his glans would hit the spot in me at every stroke. At the same time I felt his thumb enter my ass! I screamed. He was merciless as he worked my anus with his thumb. I could feel him stroke himself through me. His glans rubbed against the front of me, as he worked the back wall of my vagina against the ridges of his cock. I lost it. It felt so good that I gave a deep-throated moan. I started cumming again. The wave seems to spread from the somewhere inside of me like a ring, expanding up and out through the top of me. Then, as if Stan knew what was happening, he changed his stroke to a long deep push over my opening and in deep to finally bottom out in me. It was as if he was pushing the wave of pleasure through me. Stan wasn’t making love to me; he was fucking me and doing it well. It was at that moment Stan chose to cum, just at the bottom of his stroke he squeezed himself through me and I felt a gust of warmth deep inside. I came panting. My eye squeezed tightly shut as waves a color washed over me.

Stan held himself inside me, his other hand gently rubbing my back and upper buttocks. I was gently floating a warm cloud. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, the thought that Stan must have been with a lot of women, nay hundreds of women, occurred to me. He played every part of me, and brought me to a place I had never been in moments. My ideas of love and fidelity shattered into pieces by carnal lust.

He slowly withdrew himself from me, as he lowered the sundress over my backside. I thought he was covering me up from the chill of him leaving. When I look back at this moment, I now know he was waiting for my reactions. I wanted to rage, but I could not after he had touched me in ways I never imagined. I was sobbing, from blissful release to angst as I felt the weight of the ring on my finger.

Stan scooped me up into his arms and held me. He rocked me gently as he murmured something. He had shattered my world and he was picking up the piece and putting them back together in a new way. He was telling me it was OK and I was safe. I wanted to say something, but at the same time I didn’t want anything stupid to come out of his mouth. Stan kissed the top of my head as he rocked me. I fell asleep to him whispering to me.

I woke up in the afternoon with the sound of squealing as the school bus dropped a gaggle of children down the down street. I moved to the dresser and looked at myself in the mirror. I saw nothing different, but I felt different, more alive, and more primal. It should show shouldn’t it?

The bill of sale for the bed was on the dresser, along with Stan’s card. On the back of the card was this:

“Next week, I’ll show you the other advantages of a canopy bed”