Message-ID: <17164eli$9811130529@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: losgud Subject: <*>{losgud}NEW--This Is What Happens Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: see@iglou.com, end@iglou.com, note@iglou.com Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <364B34CB.2427@hotnomail.com> ========================= The following work is pure fiction. All people, places & situations are complete fabrications of my imagination. Any resemblance is wrong. Content includes GRAPHIC SEX. If your laws state that you are too young to be reading this, grow up and change those laws. Until then, duh, go wild in your own head. ©1998 losgud. ALL rights reserved. These words belong to me. Don't fuck with them. Write your own. NO for-profit use, reposting, archiving [other than a.s.s.m & Deja News] etc. Read, download, share with a friend. Consider unauthorized inclusion in a personal web site as an infringement of copyright. ========================= M/F Cons Inc(?) Hum &tc NOTE: This story is chock-a-block with the good stuff--as such, a certain suspension of physiological reality must be entertained in the obvious spots. Got a problem with that? Then don't read it. Otherwise, as always, enjoy! THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS This is what happens. You got an old woman living alone in a far older house in a tiny northern town. The house has been in the family forever. The old lady has enough intelligence and taste to care for the roomsful of good taste she inherited. Then she dies. Guess what happens. One guess, baby. That's right. It's instant family-reunion time. There's the funeral and stuff, but even I didn't come up for that. The old house is sold and contents up on the block. Us rats arrive in unison to pick the skeleton clean. Between us we hired out both of the U-Haul trucks on the local lot. It's a full house, like back in the good old days. Me and Lydia and our two boys. Mom got Dad to come along. Sally, my baby sister, and her husband Hank, rode up with them. Our older brother didn't think too highly of old furnishings; the sister between us was stuck down in Florida pretending she could stake her claims over the phone. And then, presumably, leave transport of said booty to one of us! Rosemarie was getting the beat-up vinyl recliner from the late '70s with the attitude she was carrying. Maybe we'd toss in the rubber doormat. What actually did happen was this: I got to meet Mom's first-cousin Jim--and his wife Mary--for the second time in my life. I got to meet them the first time when I was fourteen. Mr. and Mrs. Charme had four daughters comparable in age to the lot of us. They too spent a week or two every summer up at Grandma's. But only the once, finally, did the twain to meet. Mostly, before and after, they lingered like some mirror ghost family, the proof of their presence always that either they'd just left, or they would arrive immediately following our departure. We'd scour the house for clues, seeking any hint of these other kids who had slept in our beds, played with the same old toys we did, hid in all the same places we had, did-- surely!--much of the same things we always did. We never found a sliver of evidence; Grandma had a thorough house-cleaner. The one time our visits overlapped, my family slept in a motel for the first week, though of course we were otherwise constantly over at the house. Our presence, we hoped, a hint to these usurpers to hurry up time so they would leave and we'd get the second week in the familiar beds. I was, as noted, fourteen, and though I was pathologically shy back then, it was not to the extent that I didn't notice this houseful of beautiful girls. Abby and Barb, the two oldest--bracketing me a year each in age--had long straight hair well down their backs, which really was my ideal of feminine beauty at the time. I couldn't even talk to them. They both had the makings of real breasts. Gwen, the baby, was naturally too young for me to notice, except when she was being particularly endearing. Kara, the third girl, was actually the one I interacted with the most. She was gregarious, just on the cusp of passing over into that hormonal standoffishness. I was of course the boy closest in age to her. Her hair was cut just above her shoulders and didn't lay down. Maybe she sensed the competition with her older sisters for my attention. There is no point in emphasizing any of this. The familial lines were drawn, and a week wasn't near enough time for the two camps to much merge. All I really remember is several times Rosemarie and Sally and I dragging out the croquet set, and Kara stepping in to join us. Her foreign presence keeping the game from disintegrating into the usual family brawl. I knew that Mr. and Mrs. Charme would be coming; they, along with Mom and Dad, had booked rooms at the same motel of lore--the one in town that was part of a national chain, hence _clean_. This visit, it would be us kids who would have the run of the house. There would likely be enough bedrooms to go around, with the kids' kids parked in sleeping bags on the livingroom floor. I didn't know which of the long-lost cousins would be there; Mom wasn't sure either, though she did hint darkly that Abby hadn't even been notified. She was married with a huge brood, but her family was part of a larger "Family"--some sort of unnamed cult--and the Charmes had decided it didn't make much sense to let Abby share in the spoils since it'd all be immediately turned over to the "Father" or "Master" or whatever head-honcho. Barb showed up with her husband Bart and their three kids. My memories of her seemed to have been false. Maybe she had seen a full flowering, but the bloom was definitely long gone. The skinny girl with a cute butt and nice tits had aged badly. Probably she'd just been in a marriage-long ugly-competition with her ex-college-football-player spouse. The kids looked alike, and all had names beginning with "B". It was nearly picturesque, this extended family of ours sprawled out across the wide front porch of the old family house, spilling down the steps and out onto the lawn. The kids playing a noisy game of croquet with the same goddamned set from when we were kids. Gwen wouldn't be able to show, it transpired, because she was under lock and key. She, it turned out, spent her life completing programs, vacillating between programs; PhD programs, on the one hand, rehabs on the other. And she was currently under lock and key. I got up and went inside to get a glass of water, having tired of Barb's gleeful use of the phrase _under lock and key_. When I returned, Mrs. Charme was boastfully explaining why Kara likely wouldn't be coming; Barb's face was in a pouty shadow. I'd missed most of the gist--something about how Kara was fabulously successful in some trans-global high-glamour corporation. How they'd left messages at the hotel suites she maintained in Paris, New York and Singapore. Just then a yellow cab came rolling down the street, slowing up considerably the closer it got. A yellow cab? In this town? There wasn't a yellow cab company within a hundred miles. The closest yellow cab was in the nearest significant city, about 150 miles away. Which also happened to be the only city within half a thousand miles to boast an international airport. As the taxi pulled to a stop directly in front of the house, I could see from the lettering on the medallion on the door that my guess was correct. "Oh . . . my . . . gawd," I dead-panned, "isn't this just _exciting_? Someone famous has come to see us!" No one knew whether to laugh or not. "Or else," I shrugged, "someone famous got some _very_ bad directions." As the chuckles wore away, I turned to Lydia, amazement all over my face. "Don't tell me you gave this as the delivery address to Ed McMahon and Dick Clark? Hallelujah! The family manor is saved!" Lydia gave me a squirrely look, but I let my train of thought roar down the track. "Can you see inside? Do they have that cardboard check the size of a mattress? Maybe it's in the trunk." "Don't _bed_ on it," Lydia slyly slipped. The porch was a chorus of hoots and groans. I narrowed my eyes to look at Lydia. "You owe me one." She nudged an elbow in my side. "I'd say we're even." Right at that point, the passenger door opened. A foot slanted out to the curb. The foot became leg, and more leg, more leg, then even more leg. The matching foot poked out, at a slightly different angle; it too anchored an endless leg. The figure that emerged wasn't exactly tall, nor did she really have unending legs. She just happened to be wearing a skirt so short that, given an inch or two less of fabric, would have done no good at hiding the juncture of these pair of legs. "Kara!" the Charme side of the family sounded. Kara gave a great false grin, a tiny wave, then turned back to the taxi. She bent over retrieving something out of the backseat. It was nearly a full moon at midday. She returned, slipping the strap of a small travel bag over her shoulder. Lydia leaned over to me and murmured, "Why look, it's your cousin the jet-setting slut." "Oh hush!" I whispered back. She suppressed a giggle. "Certainly more interesting than your cousin the cow." I slapped at her knee. "Be nice." The cabby never got out of his seat, so since it was like he wasn't really there, there was the chorus of Charmes badgering Kara about how she managed to get him to bring her all the way here. "Well, of course he started grumbling immediately. All that parochial," she made her voice gravely low, "_I don't leave the city limits_ shit." "What did you do?" Barb asked fascinated. "I tossed a Ben Franklin into his lap and told him to shut the fuck up and keep driving. I had to give him directions the whole way. At any rate, I doubt he's unhappy. The fare was astronomical, but nothing compared to the tip. He'll be back in the city before his shift's half over, and already he's made the best week of his life." "How . . . " Barb fairly stuttered. "Expense accounts, darling," Kara brushed it away with a shrug. "They're simply _mah_velous." "Though probably not as _mah_velous as the cabby's view up her skirt," Lydia continued for my benefit. "Well, you likely pegged that right." "She probably blew him on the drive over." "Oh, stop it." By that point, with a squeal of tires, the taxi was history. Barb leapt to her feet, "Oh my god--Kara! He took off with all your luggage!" Kara's eyes didn't leave her sister's form. "No he didn't." "But . . . but . . . but surely that tiny shoulder bag isn't all you brought." "Yes it is." "But . . . you couldn't possibly fit everything you need into that!" I had yet to utter a word within Kara's hearing; even so she flashed an unnerving smile at me before turning back to answer Barb, "Oh, I'll just go out and get whatever I really need." Kara paused to consider her words, canting her hip. "And whatever I _want_," she added. Lydia hadn't missed that carnivorous display of teeth. She'd never been a huge fan of affection in public, but she nuzzled my ear so intensely I thought she was trying to suck out my brains. "I _bet_ she does," she breathed. Mr. Charme was up stomping his foot and smacking his hands. "That's my Kara! You always were a real go-getter." "Maybe at times," Lydia spoke into my ear, "but I figure her for more of a go-gettim type." Lydia waited for Kara to glance our way, then slapped a proprietary arm around my shoulder. "Looks like I better lock you in a cage for the duration." "Lydia, would you quit being so _evil_!" I muttered out the side of my mouth. "Good in the face of evil." Well, I've never been one to prey on other people's fears, but I spent the rest of the day eagerly awaiting bedtime. In this age of preventative medicine, I thought I was guaranteed to get a damn good dose of an anti-stray inoculation. Indeed, after I reached over to turn out the bedside lamp, I was ready for action. I cuddled up behind Lydia, parking my erection in the groove of her ass. She responded by wiggling those lovely soft cheeks back against me. I couldn't think of a surer sign that all systems were go. But then she reached back and patted my hip, gave a big sigh, murmuring, "I know we just got here, but I can't wait to get back home. Back in our _own bed_. Without so many other people all around." She gave her bottom a single thrust back at me as a sort of punctuation point, clarifying her meaning. Before I could think of a suitable line of disagreement, Lydia's breathing shifted, into that short ragged rhythm, signifying that behind her closed lids her eyes were darting about, seeing things that I would never know. This is what happens. Breakfast had barely begun when suddenly the universal plan began to form. Of course, the County Fair was on, and we'd all drive over and spend the day there. Hell if I was! That damn fair had been the bane of my childhood. I was an adult now--I didn't have to go if I didn't want to. _You can't make me, you can't make me, you can't make me!_ I could live off my memories of the stupid fair for the rest of my days. It is best not to overestimate the fun to be had at a fair when the largest city in the county numbers only a few thousand people. Barns full of hams and briskets still on the hoof, lowing and grunting. Flat fountain drinks full of ice in dirty dixie cups. The _Rollercoaster of Death_ that looks about one busted bolt away from living up to its name. My plate started the stack of dirties in the kitchen. From there, I went quickly to the cellar. It was a damp dark earthy-smelling place that'd terrified me as a child. I hid down there, listening to the sounds of everyone moving about the house, getting ready to go. Finally I heard Lydia calling out my name as her hard-soled shoes clomped through the rooms. "Down here!" I yelled out. "Where?" "In the cellar!" "What are you doing down there?" the door squealed open. "Fighting off the Daddy Longlegs," I replied, knowing that would keep her from coming down the steps. "We're all ready to go." "I'm sorry. I came down here to check out the furnace and water heater- -I've gotten a bit tied up. You all just go on without me. Hate to miss the fun, but if I leave now I'll forget what I'm doing." Just like a kid, I squeezed my eyes shut and crossed all my fingers. I have this mechanical aptitude that made my lie perfectly plausible. But I didn't dare believe that I'd be let off the hook. I didn't want to jinx myself in the silence that followed. "Okay," came the long sigh at last. I pumped a fist in the air! "Suit yourself. We won't be back 'til late afternoon, so you'll have to fend for yourself at lunchtime." "No problem. Have some fun for me, okay?" "Okay." A bit frosty in the tone. "We'll go out to Lucky's Steak House for dinner, okay?" No response. "And I found a can of 3-in-1 down here, so I'll get those bedsprings to quiet down a bit, okay?" "Oh, _stop it_, you," Lydia chortled, shutting the door. I listened to her footsteps leading the long line to the front door, and then the house was quiet. I prowled around a little more. Some lovely mason jars on a bench, but put to use decades before, and best not disturbed. Several hand-forged tools that I placed out of sight on a high shelf, to be retrieved later. Then I turned an eye to the waterheater. "Keep working for a couple more days, you hear?" Its gas burner fired up in reply. I barely glanced at the furnace. "It's summer; fuck you." As long as everyone else was going to be gone, be away, kept out of my hair, I decided to go exploring. Mostly I was keen to glean the scraps of Grandma's life. The artifacts. The pictures and letters and documents and kept objects of tiny size but enormous significance. The stuff of which the rest of the lot would glance at briefly--_huh!_--then toss in the trash. Such loot--I best remembered from the prowls of my last visit ages ago--was to be found in her bedroom, the top drawers of her highboy, the very bottom of the lowboy's big drawer. Tucked in little boxes in the corner shelf piece. Drop the leaf of the secretary. Boxes buried under blankets on the upper shelf of the walk-in, windowed, closet. The door to grandma's bedroom was ajar. There was no reason not to push through it boldly. This is what happens. When I entered the room, there was only one thing to notice. The door gave a squeak, and then there was another little squeak. Kara, apparently fresh from the bath, wrapped in a towel, was lying on top of the white chenille bedspread. Actually, she was lying on top of the towel as well, herself having come unwrapped. And she wasn't really lying flat; her legs were drawn up, knees having slammed together the moment I walked in the room. Her hands were clamped between her thighs, the elbows awkwardly bent inward so the upper arms sort of hid her breasts. She was as modestly covered as a naked woman can get. She had to have known though that a cushiony hint of her sex was visible--she had to have known because I stood there gawking at it. I should have turned my head. I should have averted my gaze. I should have blushed and mumbled a few sorry words. I should have turned and sidled out of the room. I should have done all this, and doubtless I would have done all this, but right at the moment I was about to do all this, Kara's knees began to separate. With a groan, her legs opened like a drawbridge. To allow passage of a tall-masted ship, no doubt. Her fingers, trapped in the act, remained exactly as they'd been at the moment I bumbled into the room. Then they shifted, spreading the lips of her pussy as if I wasn't already enjoying a grand view. Oh, I still should have done this or that, but by then I was physically incapable of walking out of the room. The smell of Kara's well- exercised cunt struck me, literally, causing my knees to buckle. I pitched forward, falling; fortunately the bed was between me and the floor. And fortunately the spread of Kara's thighs was there to cushion my head. Her pussy wasn't just inviting, it was an invitation. I was raised by high standards of etiquette, so I decided to RSVP immediately. I am not an unscrupulous person. There were certainly some mighty moral issues to grapple with in regards to the situation. I got all the grappling that needed doing out of the way in about two seconds flat. And then I parked my face between Kara's creamy thighs, darting my tongue out for my very first taste of her. Her cunt was worse than a jumbo bag of Lay's potato chips. But Kara didn't complain about the way I gorged. Though after a head-crushing orgasm, she did pull my face up to hers, bathing me with sloppy kisses as my cock slid in to replace my tongue. This is what happens. It went just like that. I wasn't intent on penetration. Hell, I was still half-heartedly grappling with the ethical consideration of having my face smeared with the juice of a pussy not my wife's. But when Kara dragged me up the front of her, there was that slight bumping; then my cock glided effortlessly all the way up inside her. Even Kara paused, surprised by this quick intrusion. But then she pivoted her hips, tilting me down in even deeper as her legs spread wider, then bent down at the knees to cross against my back. "Gotta hand it to the big guy, though," she laughed. "Not only does he know exactly what he wants, he sure isn't shy about getting it." I was startled by the lightness of her tone, but found it delightful and followed. "What are you talking about? I was just coming up to give you a little kiss," I slid out a little in approximation, "but then your cunt sucked me right up inside of you." I thrust back firmly. Kara swiveled her pelvis in answer, returning a pleasant gesture. "I never said I was any different. What Miss Pussy _wants_, Miss Pussy _gets_." Her cunt squeezed and began milking my shaft, the muscles moving in inward ripplings, her cunt truly sucking my cock in deeper. She surrendered a chuckle, gazing directly into my eyes. "There's no denying _that_. There's no denying Miss Pussy and her needs. Miss Pussy _wants_ to make big Mr. Cock feel _so-o good!_ So let's fuck like nuts, and let no one be the wiser." Her final words rang like a clear bell. I mean, I was in too deep to really salvage myself. Things were past the stage of redemption. _Oh, and by the way, honey, I fucked my cousin but it's okay: I pulled out halfway through, cleaned up, and never got to come. So . . . how about a blow-job for being such a good boy? I promise I'll be real quiet._ But then Kara began rattling on like a long passage in a stream-of- conscious novel. "God, this is as good as that second time, that second summer when both our families were up here together. Was that the very next year? or two or three later? I forget exactly. Except that I was so struck by you. And you barely noticed me. Do you remember any of that part at all? For days I followed you around like a puppy dog. I didn't even really know what I wanted. It was like swooning over a cute boy on a t.v. show. I was certainly used to _that_. But this was so much more different. My whole life was different, my whole body was changing. What was there about you? I never made the connection. Between you and why I was always so wet down there. Why every night when I changed into my pajamas the crotch of my panties were so damp. I thought I was starting. Mom had given me _The Talk_, and I knew I would be _becoming a woman_ soon. But there was never any blood. It wasn't until Barb and Abby began teasing me about having hot pants for you that I finally understood. The tingly feeling I kept having. The _a woman secretes lubrication_ from health class. "But I know you remember that afternoon when we were all playing Capture The Flag. And you slipped, then I tripped, and I landed on top of you. I kept lying there on top of you. And then I started pressing myself ever so slightly against you. Your eyes got so big, but not as big as your penis. How you tried to cover yourself up when I finally scrambled off. Your hard-on went away, but it came right back when the game was breaking up for dinner, when I trapped you behind that old maple tree in the side yard and snuck against you for that kiss. "And _that_ night you will never forget. How I managed to lure you into slipping out and joining me on the little back porch after everyone was asleep. I sat out there waiting with an old blanket. I was _so_ nervous. I didn't believe you'd actually show. And when you did, the sight of you had me instantly wet. You knew what was going on and you were going to be so wise as to not let it happen. But you didn't count on me. I felt so _powerful_, seducing you and showing you my charms. I _gave_ myself to you. You took my cherry out on the back porch, staining the blanket for good. At first it hurt, but soon it felt very nice indeed. I won't pretend I had an orgasm that first time, but god I was nearly delirious when I felt you explode up inside me. "After that night, all the pain was over; there was nothing left ahead but pure pleasure. I _pursued_ you, not that you were ever hard . . . except in the right place. After having fucked my tight little pussy once, you couldn't get enough of me. You were so easy. Every chance we got, you crawled on top of me and I slid beneath you, like right now, fucking each other _crazy_." Kara groaned her way through an enormous orgasm. I was gritting my teeth trying to just hang on. She quieted down for a few minutes with the big smile. But quickly she got us going again. Her cunt bunny- fucking my cock. There was no way I'd last to give her another blow- out. My lord! And that was her m.o. There were slim fingers between us, squeezing a ring around the base of my cock, a whole hand gripped down in the sticky jungle at our juncture. Fingers juggling then stroking my balls. A stray from who knows which hand tracing the rim of my anus, a circling motion begging further invitation. My mind was a haze of genuine confusion as the moment stuttered, shifting between faux-past and present, slipping in and out of fiction. Kara certainly had me convinced. She sure had exploded from the inside out, her cunt still rippling down then up my shaft. I was what again? Sixteen? Just a step away from the sexual prime of my gender of this species. What else could I do? This is what happens. My balls came to a sudden massive boil. There was but the one release valve. I began pumping what's known in legend and lore as a copious load into her waiting cunt. I was _churning_ that butter. Kara held me belted in and there was no going but forward. Humping her clit against my pelvis. I had to be out of the special sauce for the moment, but tell that to my cock: it was still jumping away inside her. By then, I was beginning to think she wouldn't make it. Slamming my limpening self back up inside her, I was surprised to feel the squeal, the exhalation. With a low moan sucking in air, Kara crested. She crashed with abandon, her cunt rippling so violently the soft stub of my sex was quickly spat out. We lay there like that, rolled on our sides face-to-face, giggling and touching at each other as the orgasmic edemas of our brains slowly subsided. "So," I shrugged her a little smile as I let a finger trace the outline of hers. "Did you . . . really? Back then . . . think about this?" Kara snorted. "Oh, get real! I was what? Maybe thirteen? Maybe some girls are advanced for their age, but not me. I hadn't even started my periods. My tits were like a boy's. All I knew about my pussy was what a weird way to have a pee-hole." "Whatever the road, what a nice destination." "Hmm!" Kara giggled. "That was just my cunt talking. Extemporaneously. Nice stuff, though, huh?" "Can't argue that!" I rejoined. We snuggled some more, Kara sort of humming against my neck. Then she pulled her head back to look me fully in the face. "Mmm, I certainly didn't expect to get laid on this trip. And definitely not by such an expert cocksman," she grinned. "Ohhh," I began modestly, honestly, leaving my commentary at that. I could feel the blush creeping. "If anything, I was, uhm, inspired." "I mean it. That was _grand_. Let's do it again." "We-ell, oka-ay," I tried to keep the future wide open. "No, I mean like right now!" I could help but agree with that. At least technically. There were those stupid physiological constraints that kept my response to just a smile. "Oh _that_," she quickly guessed, cradling my sticky spent cock like a hatchling. "No problem there," she gave a gentle squeeze. Kara leaned in to whisper something in my ear. Or so I thought. The tip of her tongue danced on my earlobe, then darted out so fast and far I thought it'd come out my other ear. She pulled away laughing, caressing the wilt of my bloom again. "I'll take care of this situation. I have a Miracle Mouth." Kara really was attempting the impossible. I wasn't some teenage buck with balls producing millions of sperm a minute. Sure, I could remember suffering, throbbingly, through math classes in school so dull I should have fallen asleep, except there happened to be a girl sitting in front of me, a girl I didn't find at all attractive but who had washed her hair with a shampoo the scent of which fanned the flames in my brain. Sure, I could remember that, but that was just memory. While here I lay well past my sexual prime, thinking of my kids, thinking of her sister's kids, her sister and my sister and her sister's husband and my wife, my parents and hers, and how at any minute . . . Kara lifted her head, giving it a toss that didn't quite get the hair out of her face. "I just love tasting myself on you. The taste of me and you mixed together." One plus one . . . it's the simplest arithmetic. And by god I felt my extremities go numb as the blood concentrated itself elsewhere. Even Kara got a surprised look, bent back down to work, suddenly finding her mouth absolutely filled with cock. She sat back on her haunches looking terribly pleased. "Time for more fucky-fuck." She scooted up then practically jabbed me back inside of her. She rode me at her leisure, gazing down at me with the smile of a saint transformed into marble. She was Cleopatra, gliding along the Nile. Then she turned into a bitch, full flesh and of this age, teasing me, teasing my cock with her cunt. Bringing me up just to let me down. She allowed herself a long, voluptuous orgasm, then continued playing me. But by then I was nearly delirious. I hugged her hard down against me, and, before Kara could react, I rolled us over so that she was on her back again. Kara's legs spread wide, but her eyes narrowed to slits. "Fuck me hard, but _watch out_: I _bite!_" This is what happens. I held her wrists down over her head as I fucked her. I tried to smother her mouth with lips and tongue, but then she slipped to the side and tried to bite me. She did bite me. So I bit her back. Kara liked to be bitten almost as much as she liked to bite. We snarled at one another as I started to slam in and out of her in earnest. She got her hands free and then we were wild animals, rolling around the vast plain of the bed. Her legs started out spread toes pointing to opposite heavens; now the toes still didn't agree, but her legs crossed at the calves, locking me against her. Kara humped right back at me. The sloppy wet slurping of sex against sex. The two of us banging away, steel striking against flint. Then the spark that erupted as a supernova. A double one. While reeling between the spurts of my cock, I was vaguely aware of Kara screaming, the Grand Canyon echoing of a woman in the midst of complete pleasure. Then we were like two tissues crumpled up into one ball. The bed was so warm; Kara was so warm. Kara was so soft; the bed was so soft. Both Kara and her bed smelled so nice. My brain chemicals were in an overload of the happy mode, and my eyelids were weighted with lead. This is what happens. Car doors started slamming, and I bolted awake, sitting upright. Beside me, Kara's eyes opened dreamily. Then she gave a little laugh. "I'd say we'll be invaded in about two minutes. Here I am, having a delicious little afternoon nap. What about you?" I was up and hopping around, trying to make my clothes work. I stopped long enough to grab a corner of the sheet and try to mop myself up. Kara snaked over and gave my privates a little kiss right as I was getting my pants and underwear up. "You still smell like pussy!" she declared. Then she blew me a kiss, "Be a dear and pull my door closed when you leave, okay?" I thought about rushing into the bathroom for a quick wash-up, but the front door was already opening when I got out in the hall. I dashed the opposite way, and tip-toed down the disused back staircase. I was coming out of the kitchen when the tribe came storming through the livingroom and diningroom. Lydia came up for a kiss, which I turned instead into a hug, a quick peck through her mane of hair. I didn't want her to catch a whiff of the lip gloss I was wearing. She restrained me in the hug. "Missed you. So, is everything functioning properly?" _Cellar_, I remembered after a half-skip. "As, uh, as good as could be expected." "Where's Kara?" I about shat. "Sneaky thing," she continued, "staying home. No one noticed until we all got out of the cars." "Oh yea," my mind whirled, "she was off reading or something, quieter than a mouse. I had no clue--I thought I was alone--but then when I was making a sandwich, she suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway. I about dropped of a heart attack! Thought it was Grandma come back to fuss at me about something. We had lunch together, then she went out. Came back and disappeared upstairs. Reading or taking a nap, I suppose." "What a splendid idea," Lydia replied. "It's been an exhausting day. That's all the grown-ups have been talking about--a nap, that is. The kids all know to park themselves in front of the t.v. while the adults rest for awhile. And if they don't behave themselves, you won't be treating them to Lucky's for dinner." I'd meant the meal to be a little more intimate than that. But apparently the intimacies were to be performed before dinner. Which left me in a panic, naturally enough. Despite my efforts, Kara had been right: my crotch was still so sticky it was a wonder the front of my pants weren't soaked through. I cast a furtive glance down just to check. I kept trying to get into the bathroom to freshen up after sex, but it kept being occupied by someone else freshening up before sex. And of course I was busy coming up with a plausible excuse for my imminent impotence. Because there wasn't a feminine charm in all the world that would stand me stiff again, not for awhile anyway. About the last thing I needed in my life would be the end results of Lydia suddenly scrambling down to try to suck me to attention. "Come on!" Lydia tugged at my hand as I lingered by the closed bathroom door on the way to our room. "Time's a-wasting! Don't worry about that; I'm a little sweaty myself, but who cares? We're just going to get a lot more sweaty anyway." Thus summoned, off to my execution I went. Lydia preceded me into the room. When I turned from latching and locking the door, she was standing over by the bed, her back to me, the sunshine through the sheers making her torso glow as she shed her shirt. She was just shimmying out of her shorts when a master plan struck me. Putting a spin on the old adage, I decided that the best defense was a great offense. While she was still trapped at the ankles by her pants, I lunged for her, going to my knees as I gripped her tight around the thighs. Ferociously I begin nipping and nibbling her rounded ass through the sunny yellow silk of her panties. "What are you doing?!" she squealed in obvious delight. "Can't wait?! Want it that much?! Can't stand it?! Need it right now?!" I let her babble away with her exclamatory questions, then with a little lift tipped her over onto the bed. She twisted and turned as I wrestled with her legs. Finally I managed to get a lock around her legs, transferring them from the hold of both arms to just one, leaving me with a hand free. Then, with one firm purchase on the waist of her panties, more than half the battle was done. Like lightning my other arm let loose, grabbing the band at her other hip. Before Lydia knew what was up I had her panties down past her knees, past those knobs of no return. "So much for the need of foreplay," I heh-hehed, "if the crotch of these is any indication." Lydia indeed had given up the fight, relaxing back into a position of total supplication. Her legs fell wide apart, fully exposing the pouty arousal of her sex. She just lay there like that, granting me a display like I hadn't seen for months. _Get to work_, I reminded myself, methodically shucking my own clothes. "God, you horny bastard, don't I even get a kiss first?" _Excellent_ timing! "But of course you do." I began bending over her and she got a dreamy smile on her face, eyes closing, lips quavering at the edge, waiting for the touch of mine to force them to full pucker. But without mounting the bed I fell far short of the kiss she was expecting! Lydia gasped, going wide-eyed as I gently kissed her cunt. Any protest she might have been formulating melted away like butter, the creamy butter heated by lust that dribbled into my mouth as my tongue pushed past the swollen gates, inching up inside her eager pussy. Deeply I lunged my tongue, feeling the flow of her tart juices slathering my lower face. Then on up to feint with the treasure of her pleasure button. My hands moved up around her hips to trace maddeningly light circles across her belly. Her hands moved down, alternately stroking and gripping my forearms as her passions raged. I licked Lydia to a resounding orgasm as I wondered what I could do about my cock. With my face buried in Lydia's cunt, I began idly considering Kara's back porch fantasy. I felt a bit dishonest--I felt like a total shitheel to be honest--but that did the trick. When Lydia dragged me up over her, the pussy juice on my lips as we kissed was hers. And though there were but bare drops of sperm in my balls, my cock was thick and stiff, sliding easily into her creamy snatch. And then--third time's charm--I fucked her delirious. In the pauses when I slowed down to tease her, the whole house echoed with a Greek chorus of shrieking bedsprings. I thought of Kara, laying in her bed, fingers between her legs, listening to the creaking chorus. With that image in mind, I shuddered, and groaned a great roar unrelated to the little dribble of spunk I shot up inside Lydia. After a few minutes where she refused to let me move at all, Lydia finally slid us over onto our sides, a leg over mine keeping me firmly latched inside of her. "You should oil my bedsprings more often, hmm?" I tried to think of a witty rejoinder, but as I thought I drifted into unconsciousness. It was a designated nap-time, after all. Not that I was much aware of it at the moment, just that when I did wake back up, I noticed that she had joined me in this voluptuous slumber. Lydia began to stir as I watched her sleep. Though she was still on her side, latched against me, I had managed to complete the turn onto my back. "Time to get up?" I asked her fluttering eyelids. "Lucky's," I added as a reminder. "Fuck me's?" she giggled. "Fucky Lucky's. Who needs it? I've already had my fill of meat." She brushed her thigh sensuously up and down, stopping with a mock- quizzical look when the extremity of her arcing came to a nudge against my cock. "_Mmmm_. Not that I don't have room for _more_." My erection was improbable--I suppose I had that advantage of having just woken up and in that usual state, and I did need to pee like crazy, but still! But still, there I stood, tall and proud and practically scraping the paint off the ceiling. And Lydia's hands were around it, squeezing it; pinching me--so to speak--so that I'd know I wasn't dreaming. Then she rose and straddled me, her smile brimming as she sank me in to the rim. There is such a thing as a well pumped dry. But that doesn't keep the pump from working. It only means that the pump overheats and explodes itself. Lydia probably didn't get a spit of semen in her cunt, despite her efforts. But explode I did, crying out as I was fucked to an intensity I'd never been fucked before. Slowly, so slowly, Lydia lowered herself against me, the points of her breasts brushing heavily, knowingly, against my chest. "Did you just die and go to heaven? Hmm? I only ask because that's the way you look." As if I was capable of the words to answer. This is what happens. I was in a daze for days. I remember helping to go out and get a rental truck, and then another, even loading a few pieces of furniture. Arrangements were made with a greedy local realtor, and an auctioneer was called in to dispose of the furnishings left after we'd all scavenged what we wanted. There were meals I ate, and nights I slept. I even got around to oiling the bedsprings, and kept waiting for Lydia to initiate a repeat of our commerce, but she didn't. In the meantime I avoided Kara as best I could, retaining my title of a regular family man. The great dad always going somewhere or doing something with the kids. But then she would catch my eye at breakfast, hers going dewy and to half-mast, and my cock would be nearly thumping the underside of the table like a bogus seance. I certainly welcomed the pair of evenings out with the guys. Not that we ever stayed out late or drank too much. Nor that I particularly enjoyed the company. The point for me was to be led away from temptation. If this meant accompanying grown men for a night of serious bowling, so be it. At least that excursion involved Dad and Mr. Charme. The final night it was just us boys, roaming the taverns downtown. I'd call my brother-in- law a moron, but that title was so thoroughly claimed by Bart, my . . . whatever you call your mother's cousin's daughter's husband--I certainly had no wish to be in the same hyphenated brotherhood with that loser. It was an odious evening. Before our first round was half finished, the two of them were bragging and comparing what great fucks their wives were. I did _not_ want to know. Nor was I forthcoming on what a great fuck Lydia was, which kept the night's male-bonding glue from really setting. Then Bart turned to me, as if I had some authority on the matter, "So, I bet my sweet Barb was a hot little chick when she was younger, isn't that right?" "Oh," I nodded my head, "I'm sure when she was fifteen she had her fifteen minutes." His face was a slate of incomprehension. "Sorry," I shrugged. "Bad habit of mine: paraphrasing Warhol." Bart still didn't get it, but that didn't stop his look from turning darker. So Hank jumped in, with a nasty tone, "Hey, Sally tells me you were always really mean to her when you guys were kids." Oh great, I thought, a quarter of a century later, I'm going to get beat up for yanking out a hank of Sally's hair. But then their focus turned to Kara. "Fucking high-fashion lezbo, she is," Hank declared. "No way," Bart argued, "but I bet she's one of those frigid bitches that just lays there and makes you do all the work. And then tells you to go get her some kleenexes afterwards." "Still . . . " Hank gave a tug at his belt. "Oh yea . . . " Bart agreed, digging deep in his pockets. I . . . really didn't think I should say a thing. I turned my full attention to the tricky act of transferring the beverage from the bottle to my mouth. Fortunately, _Guys-Go-Barhopping_ only lasted through a second round and a half-hearted discussion of going to a second bar. Still, it took us _hours_ to reach that point. I certainly wasn't sad when we left to go home. The only real surprise was that the two thugs didn't jump me in the dark of the residential streets. This is what happens. It wasn't particularly late when we returned, but the rest of the house was asleep. Hank and Bart tip-toed around as though it was four in the morning and the two of them were three sheets to the wind. I snuck into our room and quietly stripped. Lydia didn't even stir as I slipped into the bed beside her. But god as I lifted the sheet was I ever greeted by a delicious warm mix of scents wafting off her. Clean skin and expensive soaps, her shampoo-of-the-week, and that wholesome womanly scent of hers. With just a hint of that tantalizing odor which always tells me when she's been having an especially sweet dream. The rest of me was pretty sleepy, but my cock was suddenly wide-awake. I gave it a thought, and a second thought, but with Lydia, when she's asleep, it's like trying to get a piece of the Rock. I considered just sort of humping up against her bottom, and then I contemplated quietly jacking off, and then . . . and then . . . and then after maybe twenty minutes I was soft as a baby and swirling off to sleep . . . when I bolted awake. I just wanted to go to sleep, I really didn't want to leave the snugly comfort of the bed. But those two lousy bottles of beer had turned into a full keg in my bladder. There would be no rest until I drained it off. There wasn't the slightest interruption in Lydia's slow deep breathing as I snuck back out of bed. Considering the hour, I didn't bother with any clothing. And just as well: it would have been such a bother. I would have wound up wetting the floor. Much easier to undress than get dressed in the dark. I shuffled my way in silence and darkness out of the room and down the hall. Passing Grandma's--Kara's--room, I could see the door was ajar. Black as black and almost too quiet. But that observation I knew was just my paranoia kicking back up. Even so, I averted my eyes and kept moving towards the bathroom. Once there, I gently closed the door-- carefully locking it--before turning on the light. Of course, my horse-sized piss turned out to be a quick splash and a few dribbles. Not nearly enough to risk waking the rest of the house with the roar of the toilet flushing. So I returned to the door, unlocked it then turned off the light. I waited for my eyes to adjust before opening the door. As I stood there in the dark, my mind started racing. What was going on? I felt forced out of bed for just _that_? Christ, I should have a good thirty years ahead before I started having prostate trouble. Hadn't my full dance card last Sexday proven everything was in fine form down there? Or had four loads in eight hours blown the whole damn gland? But then again, hadn't I been ready and willing to snag some sneaky-piece off my sleeping wife not half an hour ago? Finally one great truth clarified itself out of this cloud of nonsense: I was a lunatic to be standing there at this hour in the darkened bathroom worrying about all that shit. I opened the door and stepped out into the hall. I took a few steps, my eyes adjusting to the different quality of darkness out there. That was when I saw the ghost. Oh lordy, what was keeping Grandma from her eternal rest? and why did it have to involve me? The ghost of Grandma wasn't content to just waver; she began moving in my direction. And then she spoke. "_Fucky-fuck?_" Kara waltzed right up to me, invading my private space. She stopped directly in front of me, her lips just inches from mine, nearly bumping my chest with her breasts. Her pelvis swayed lightly against me. "Fucky-fuck?" Her eyes laughed and danced and sparkled and did all those sorts of things that eyes aren't really capable of doing. Then her pelvis melded with mine, rubbing up and down. "_Fucky-fuck?_" She looked at me and gave her head a nod. Her eyelids lowered to slits. Kara reached around my waist and grabbed my ass, pulling me tightly against her, grinding out crotches together. "Fucky-fuck!" she nodded vociferously, "_right now!_" She grabbed my hands and began walking backwards, pulling me along with her. Her eyes never left mine, and yet she never made a false step, walking backwards, gliding us down the hall and into her room, across the floor until she came to the side of the bed. She settled her rear down, and then began scooting herself towards the middle of the mattress. The slack in our arms drew taut, but still she didn't release her hands' grip on mine. Kara pulled me down on top of her, twining herself around me completely. That _mouth_, all over my mouth. Lips slippery and tongues sliding, the bone clicking sound of teeth meeting teeth. It was as though Kara was trying to prove that mouth-on-mouth was how humans had sex. Kara was, indeed, like some sort of physical embodiment of the idea of sex. As she seized at me, the pushing and pulsations of her mouth on mine, it seemed that her very breath reeked of cunt, that the saliva spilling across my face actually tasted of pussy juice. That the sheen on her skin was cunt sauce oozing from her very pores. I thought about pushing away from her greedy lips, moving my face down between her thighs . . . but why bother? I could just lick wherever I pleased; her entire body was some sort of super attenuated clitoris. And besides, she wouldn't let me go. As we'd tussled around, she'd gotten my thighs locked between hers. I of course had this arrogant stiff-spined alien sprouted from between my legs, who, given the confined space, was getting a bit impatient, battering his purple helmet against the slick soft ceiling of this earthly fleshy cavern where he was trapped. We settled like that, moving slowly, the squirming of desperation subsiding. "You know," I whispered, "this is just like a dream. Excepy right about now--when I'm dreaming--I suddenly wind up alone in another room thinking, _Hey, wait a minute! This isn't fair._" "You're not dreaming," Kara cooed back. She licked the tip of my nose, then ran her hands down my arms, all the way, from my shoulders to the grip my fingers had on her shoulders. "And if you dare go off in another room right now . . . I guarantee you I will hunt you down and show you what's fair." With that, Kara shifted her hips slightly, canted her pelvis, then gave a little thrust. The first few inches of me were suddenly sunk up inside the delirious sensations of her cunt. Her hands slid down to my ass, pulling me in even further. "Do you have any idea what it means," she huffed, "when a woman wants a man?" "_Show me!_" I managed to groan. Kara's face broadened in smile. "That's exactly what I intend to do." "You're driving me crazy." "Double ditto." With that we settled into some of the most synchronized screwing I'd ever experienced. We'd transcended ourselves and become Sexual Professionals. It was all call-and-response. Cunt crying for cock, cock crying for cunt. And the both providing perfect satisfaction for the other. I thrust into Kara, and her heard her gasp; then she thrust back upon me and made me gasp. Throughout, we stared at each other, wide-eyed with disbelief, delight, our eyes finally closing as the convulsions of delirium swept across us both at once. I lay there, feeling spent and satisfied, sticky and sweet, sweaty and stuck to the warm soft stretch of heated flesh I held tightly against me. Finally I sighed, "I suppose I better wash up and go back to bed soon." I spoke into silence. Kara's mouth stayed shut, though her body did stir, latching herself to me all the more firmly. Timidly she began, sort of lapping at an earlobe of mine. "You do that fucky-fuck very well, fine sir." Her limbs began to function, the upper arm and legs sliding slow arches across my flesh. Kara pulled my gaze to hers as her crotch started tapping at my thigh. "That's quite a compliment," I grinned back, "coming from you." "You must have graduated _magna cum load_ from _Fuck U._, isn't that right?" she hunched me harder. "Sorry if I stripped you of your amateur status." But then she relaxed. Momentarily. She shifted her body about. Kara placed my hands on her breasts, said, "Squeeze me. Make me even more juicy." Her lips went to mine, her hair a tent around our heads. Then her arms shot down rudely between us, her hands grappling with my equipment. My flaccid cock and empty balls. Kara handled them roughly, then lightly. "What are you doing?" I finally broke. "I mean, keep on doing what you're doing because it feels _great_, but, um, you know . . . don't get your hopes up." Kara just kept smiling at me. No she didn't. Her smile broadened. "Don't look so evil with that knowing smile," I hissed. Kara bit her lip, then declared, "I know how to get it up anytime I want it." With that she sat up on her heels. Her left hand kept its grip on my cock throughout the contortions. With that, Kara relaxed, slipping the index finger of her right hand right up inside her cunt. She took a taste up to her tongue, declaring in our hushed vocabulary, "Mmmm! Sixty percent semen, forty percent pussy juice." Then she twinned the fingers exploring her holy folds. As if _all that_ wasn't enough, Kara turned and twisted, scooting down the bed until all I could reach of her was her head. Her head that was swift to busy _giving_ head. And then she stuck her finger up my ass. So soon she had my cock standing gleaming, so stiff it nearly hurt. Kara straddled me, then paused. "You said I drive you crazy. _Now_ I'm going to _ride_ you in_sane_." As she lowered herself down upon me, I quit breathing. My whole body was aquiver, strung to the sensation as the taut plug at the tip of my cock pushed between the fat flushed lips of her cunt. Kara's eyelids dropped to a sultry low. "You can always wash up and go to bed later, _can't you?_" I mumbled incoherently. "Or would you like me to stop right now?" she asked, lifting herself nearly completely off my cock. "_God no!_" I whimpered. "Didn't think so," she grinned. Then she began going up and down at no great speed, patiently riding her way to another orgasm. Her eyes closed and a beatific smile spread across her face. Kara looked for all the world as if she were at the fair, in the saddle, astride a pony on the slowest moving carousel. The only thing missing was the pole, but then again she wasn't really missing the pole, it was just buried deep up inside her. I could feel her juices gush as the moment hit, the tightening around me as she held on to the glorified feeling sweeping her body. Kara came quietly, and then nearly calmly she climbed off of me. She turned around on her knees, lowering herself to her elbows, putting her Charme's charms on full display. Her ass swayed lightly, invitingly, an incitement to further adventures. I was on my knees and directly behind her in a flash, one hand spreading her slippery cunt lips as the other guided my cock back inside. I sunk myself all the way in, then leaned down over her. This was marvelous. I nibbled at the nape of her neck while my hands reached under and cupped her breasts; my palpitating hands the only barrier between her breasts and full gravity. But really, this was an awkward position. I straightened back up, still on my knees. This enabled me to thrust into her all the more deeply. My hands gripped her hips, pulling her harder against me; my hands grasped the sides of her ass, squeezing those voluptuous pillows tight around me; my hands trailed up and down the wonderful lines of her back, completely delighting me. "This is _so-o-o_ sexy," I goaded her, "the sight of you and me. Me sliding into you. You sucking me into you. My cock, so thick and stiff because of you, shiny and slick with your sauce, while you kiss me with your cunt, the lips so puffy, glistening, oozing juices because of me." I reached beneath us and gave her clit a quick rub. That was enough for Kara. She came like a hurricane, squalling her sounds into the muffler of a pillow. In doing so she pulled away from me, collapsing to the bed. My cock popped out, and there I knelt. Slowly she recovered, then rolled onto her back. Kara looked up at me. "Come on down," she spread all her limbs, "come on down here and fuck me proper." She wrapped herself all around me as I did just that. Then Kara cooed in my ear, "This is for you, all for you. In gratitude and appreciation." With that understood, I began humping her in earnest. I knew I didn't have long. Kara had one hand cradling and fondling my balls, while the other squeezed a ring around the base of my cock. She had her pelvis going back and forth, up and down, and round and round, all at once. As well, she was giving her vaginal muscles a good work-out. All the while she smiled up at me. It was just minutes before I broke and burst, refilling her with seed. I was still in my final throes when Kara rolled us over, managing to keep me inside her. Then she raised her haunches and daintily lifted herself off me. Running her hands from my shoulders down the sides of my ribs finally coming to rest on my hips, Kara moved back down the bed until her face once again hovered above my groin. I groaned as she took my cock into her mouth. "That won't work again," I gasped. Kara ignored my plea, sucking me for several minutes, then slurping all around the base of it. Satisfied by her ministrations, she moved back up, lying on her side next to me. She stroked my ankle with her foot, but that was the only point at which our bodies now touched. Snuggling her head into the pillow, she looked at me with a smug smile. "Would've if I'd wanted it to." She reached down and gave my cock a brief, gentle pat. "Okay, you're all clean; you can go back to wifey now." I lay there for a few minutes absolutely stunned. Then I moved to get up and collect my senses. Kara had dozed off before I left the room. This is what happens. I stood at the sink and gave myself a thorough whore-bath. Then I washed my face and brushed my teeth. After a moment's consideration, I gave my genitals another good soaping. Brushed my teeth again. Suddenly it felt like if I didn't pee immediately I'd suffer permanent kidney damage. I stood there for hours it seemed, pissing gallons directly into the sink. To rinse it away, I washed my hands, and cock, and face, then brushed my teeth again. Only then did I dare exit the bathroom, retracing my original steps back down the hall to my own room. My own bed. My own woman. As I got back under the covers, I thanked my lucky stars that Lydia was still solid with sleep. She'd changed posture, but even more to my advantage: on her side, at the far edge of the bed, facing away. I settled in quietly, nearly in bliss, so eager for sleep to come and take me away. I nearly died at the sound of a double groan--the first from Lydia, the second from the bed itself as she shifted and rolled over towards the middle of the mattress. She gave a sigh; then I heard her lips smacking in the dark. An even longer sigh, which turned into the two letters I didn't want to hear, "Hi?" I responded with a tiny, sleepy sounding grunt. "Mmm, did you just get it in?" I froze at her phrasing. Maybe the _it_ I heard was her slurring out the final _t_ in _get_. I relaxed, knowing that Lydia was still mostly asleep, and thus likely to be getting her words a little confused. "Oh, just a little bit," I answered. "Did you have a good time?" she asked. "Not really, no, not at all." "Mmm," her hand snaked under the covers to crawl up my hip, landing to tug me lightly in her direction. "Then why don't you come over here and have a real good time?" Her hand then reached for mine, pulling it along and down, placing it directly between her legs. Her cunt was sopping wet! Lydia was the gentlest drill-sergeant in all the world. Nevertheless, my little private _jumped_ to attention. As I rolled over on top of her, I could hear my balls grumbling among themselves, "_Jesus!_ Can't we get us transplanted to some guy who'll give us a little rest now and then?!" I knew I was going to be in bad shape in the morning. But in a very good sort of way. This is what happens. It was great to finally be back home. Safe in my own place. Though the images, the ecstasy, indeed even the smell of Kara still danced in my brain, I was relieved to be away from the danger of it all. Wild, carnal, nearly carnivorous sex is one thing, but however grateful I was to Kara, I was sensible enough--in the afterglow of hindsight--to not want my comfortable, familiar life destroyed over it. I mean, that sort of sex is common enough in the beginning of things, but nearly invariably it pales into a more civilized, refined type of lovemaking as time stomps on. The major point being, of course, I kept emphasizing to myself, was that if Kara and I had been discovered, she'd still be, at this very moment, miles above in the sky. My life would lie in ruins, while Kara returned to hers intact, across the International Dateline, thousands of miles away, across the greatest ocean on the planet. A bit too far for my mangled heart to swim. I gave great breaths of relief in the quiet late-night dark of my house, moving the manageable booty from our trip into the house from the garage. Happy as a clam in its shell was I. The boys, overtired and up too late, finally managed into bed by Lydia. An exhausting task for her, I was sure. It was no great surprise when she never returned downstairs. I'd find her sweet slumbering form in our bed when I finished up for the night. My lovely wife. There was a small fragile cherrywood secretary I wanted to put in its perfect location in the front hall before I went to sleep. The bottom half of it looked grand; I went back into the garage to get the top, thinking how pleased Lydia would be to find it standing down there at the bottom of the stairs in the morning. As well, I formed a mental calendar, trying to figure out how soon there might be an uninterrupted hour or two so that I might find myself between the legs of that wonderful woman. One, two, three days, I thought, fitting the secretary together. Then I ambled around, locking up and turning off lights. But Saturdays were usually so busy. I climbed the stairs in the darkness. Maybe Sunday, I thought, turning into the bathroom. Lock the boys out in the backyard for an hour or two in the afternoon. I brushed my teeth and washed up. I stripped and tossed all my clothes in the hamper. Damn! Maybe if I snuggled up against Lydia, I might be able to wake her, perhaps rouse her into the mood and then . . . _naw-w-w_. No way. A pity there. I turned off the light and left the bathroom, heading down the darkened hall to our room. Almost immediately I bumped into something. I was still a bit blinded from the light above the sink, but the something was very soft and bumped me back. I took a few quick steps in the opposite direction. "_Fucky-fuck?_" I stood there paralyzed, my vision adjusting in the pause. Lydia waltzed right up to me, invading my private space. She stopped directly in front of me, her lips just inches from mine, nearly bumping my chest with her breasts. Her pelvis swayed lightly against me. "Fucky-fuck?" Her eyes laughed and danced and sparkled and did all those sorts of things that eyes aren't really capable of doing. Then her pelvis melded with mine, rubbing up and down. "_Fucky-fuck?_" She looked at me and gave her head a nod. Her eyelids lowered to slits. Lydia reached around my waist and grabbed my ass, pulling me tightly against her, grinding out crotches together. "Fucky-fuck!" she nodded vociferously, "_right now!_" My heart was, naturally enough, dropped to the floor like a foot along with my stomach, making of me a quadruped of apprehension. "Your cousin's quite the little vixen, isn't she?" Lydia finally spoke. Her crotch nudged mine in a friendly sort of way. "Don't worry . . . I'm not angry." She paused a breath. "What right do I have? After all .. . . Kara had me as well." My jaw was all I had left to drop. My penis, in protest, jutted towards the heavens. "She found time to be alone with me, too. And used that same _Oops, you caught me masturbating_ trick. A big surprise for me. _I've_ never had a _woman_ sucking away between _my_ legs." Lydia's breath was hot on my mouth. "I liked it. A _lot!_ So much that my tongue explored every place that yours did." My lungs heaved a great big sigh. "Oh," she continued, "did I mention that the boys are going away to camp for several weeks later this summer?" She hadn't. "And did Kara happen to mention that she has a few weeks of vacation time she needs to use up by around that time?" Again, no. Lydia gave my cock a squeeze, then turned, returning down the hall to our bedroom. She looked back over her shoulder as she sent an extra twitch to the swaying of her ass. "Fucky-fuck?" _Right now!_ I scampered after her. This is what happens. I tore after Lydia's sweet ass; we made it into our room but she made it nowhere near the bed. I lunged and snagged her legs, and as we tumbled to the carpet my face wound way up between her thighs. My tongue was all over her cunt in seconds, my wetness lapping up hers. Lydia was egging me on, "Yea, yea baby, oh that's so-o good, whoa shit, this is like having Kara between my legs, only better. Mmmmm! oh my! Geez, you gotta get her down there with you sometime and give her a couple pointers." There I was, licking and sucking my wife to a devastating series of orgasms, and having a wonderful time of it. Yet at the same time I was thinking about how Lydia had busted me on Kara, and wondering why-- because I didn't really believe her--she'd chosen to accept it couched in terms of an affair herself. I didn't believe that she and Kara had actually done the deed. When would they have found the time? When her thighs were relaxed enough to let me go, Lydia pulled me up until our faces were level, my cock sort of tapping against her cunt. She ground my mouth against hers. Pretty soon, her mouth started tasting like cunt. Her smothering lips so female. And that exact taste upon them. Déjà vu _flared_. "So _you're_ why her mouth tasted like cunt that night? You listened in on the whole hallway scene? You watched us fuck!" Lydia smiled big, bigger, biggest. "You thought I was making all that up! Come on," she wriggled beneath me. "The women get lonely when all the men go off to the bars. And when the boys are away, the girls will play." She reached between us, slinking down, grabbing my cock two-fisted, jacking it slowly while rubbing the head against the plump waiting wetness of her pussy lips. "Though when the boy's around, the girls would love him to pound." On that thought, she slipped the plum of me inside her, then let her arms steal away to reach around my back and cross, crushing me hard against her. I glided in effortlessly. ========================= Like? Yes? No? 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