Message-ID: <41382asstr$1048241405@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <20030321031734.4780.qmail@web41211.mail.yahoo.com> From: theGreatxIam X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Thu, 20 Mar 2003 19:17:34 -0800 (PST) Subject: {ASSM} Anniversary Waltz #3 - Part 3/3 Date: Fri, 21 Mar 2003 05:10:05 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw For more stories like this, visit http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/theGreatxIam/www __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! Platinum - Watch CBS' NCAA March Madness, live on your desktop! http://platinum.yahoo.com <1st attachment, "ann03c.txt" begin> NOTE: I hereby grant permission for all archiving and other uses of this work, public or private, free or paid, in any format whether existing now or to be invented in the future, so long as a copy of this note and credit to "theGreatxIam" is given and no alteration is made to the body of the work. Copyright 2002, theGreatxIam Darkness Considered as an Elemental Plot Device, or, Lights Out Part 3 (of 3) An Anniversary Waltz story By theGreatxIam The rain swept in from the ocean, a gray shroud, spattering on sand and stucco. Inside the condo, the sizzle of the first drops landing on hot glass had changed to a drumbeat. As the rain continued, water cascaded off the roofs, splashing down the architectural obstructions. Lucy was the first to wake up. She smiled when she turned over to see Steve sleeping next to her, still unaware. But she didn't tarry, speeding to the master suite's bathroom. At the same time, downstairs, Sam rolled out of Bobbi Jo's embrace and padded to the small bathroom off the patio that they shared. Back on the main floor, Steve blinked, smacked his lips, patted the empty space next to him in bed. Scratching in various spots, he walked toward the bathroom. Finding it occupied, he shuffled out into the kitchen and to the half-bath there. As he was shutting that door, Lucy emerged from the master bedroom. She slipped past the sofa bed, climbed the stairs and entered her bedroom. As her bedroom door clicked shut, the one across the hall opened. Pete, a quizzical look on his face, turned his head to scan the corridor before he went to the bathroom at the far end. One floor down, Paula awoke. Throwing aside the covers, she stumbled to the master suite, blinking and rubbing her eyes. The door closed behind her and the sound of a shower joined the rain's chatter. On the floor below that, Sam came back from the toilet and pulled clothes out of several drawers. Bobbi Jo sat up and turned to her. "What's that noise?" the older woman asked sleepily. "Rain," Sam said, pulling on a pair of black panties. Bobbi Jo groaned. "The perfect ending. Think we'll be stuck inside all day?" "Maybe," Sam said, shimmying into a tight pair of red shorts. "Maybe we'll all have to entertain ourselves. Who knows what we'll do?" She laughed as she pulled on a belly-baring T-shirt. Sam wasn't laughing. As they were talking, on the top floor, Randall had kissed Lucy but then seemed struck by a more urgent need. He flew out of the bedroom and almost ran into the closed bathroom door, then tumbled downstairs only to find the bathroom there in use as well. He knocked. "In a minute," Steve said. Randall sat on the sofa bed, legs crossed, tapping his foot. When Steve came out, the other man rushed past him. Steve walked into the master bedroom as Paula stepped out of the bathroom toweling off her hair. "Quite a night, last night," he said, smiling. "What?" She looked to the room's big window overlooking the beach. Rain was sheeting down the glass. "Oh. Yeah. Well, we had a dry spell, I guess." Steve chuckled. "I'll say. But we're making up for it now!" Paula stared at him. "Whatever," she said, leaving the room. ---- ---- ---- Paula felt like an animal in a cage. The rain stayed with them all day. The house took on the odor of mildewed mackerel. Everyone else seemed to be keyed up, too. When Sam proposed a drive to town, they all piled into the two cars and took off -- only to find everything shut down. "It's Sunday, don't you know," an old woman cawed at them. "Day of rest!" The only action at all, in fact, was at the airport. When they tried to confirm their return flight for the next day, they ran into a crowd of natives and nearby islanders milling around the unmanned airline counter. "Don't you know," said a bearded guy somewhere between 30 and death, "been no plane since Thursday. Broke down, it did." Paula was apoplectic. "What are we supposed to do? Our flight's at 11 tomorrow morning!" "Maybe you go, maybe you don't," the guy said. "If they get the plane fixed, they gonna fly all night to catch up, they say." Paula was slightly mollified. "So we'll be OK?" "Maybe yes, maybe no. But relax, pretty lady. Worse come worst, you stay on Mestife maybe more. That's not bad." They went back to the cars with tails dragging. Back at the condo, Steve and Bobbi Jo pulled into the garage seconds apart. Bobbi Jo got the space closest to her room and said she was going to pack a suitcase right away. The rest of them went upstairs to discover that a kitchen window had blown open, letting rain pour in. Having to lend a hand in the mopping up did not improve Paula's mood. In fact, almost everyone else discovered a crucial task to do elsewhere, so she got stuck mopping with only Sam to help. It was sloppy work. The rain and wind had also brought in bits of trash and sand. "We have to get it clean," Bobbi Jo had helpfully pointed out before disappearing downstairs, "or we'll lose our security deposit." By the time they had the kitchen clean again, Paula was wondering why they hadn't just said screw the money. She hadn't done work like this since -- since never, she realized. And it wasn't just the dirt. With the windows closed against the rain and no air conditioning -- not even a fan -- she and Sam were soaking in sweat. For Sam, that meant her yellow T-shirt was plastered to her ample breasts. Paula found herself staring at the erect nipples. There was something about the woman's dark skin, Paula thought, especially now that it had a sheen like polished marble. She was still thinking about Sam when Steve, Pete and Randall tromped in from the manly task of cleaning the grill -- a task so arduous it took all three of them and the last of their booze. Most of the rest of the daylight hours were spent packing or finding other excuses to get away from as many people as possible. Dinner was remnants of anything that hadn't already spoiled or gone sour. Night came early, and it was blacker than ever. The group had come together at dusk, drawn to the guttering flame of their last candle. Paula was sitting on a stool off to one side, worrying silently about the next day's flight. She couldn't take another day in Mestife, she just couldn't. Two things happened at once. Someone's hand slipped down her back and inside her shorts, squeezing her ass. And a faint buzzing that had been growing louder turned into a full-throated roar overhead. Of the two, the plane's return excited her more. She joined in a group cheer -- one so enthusiastic that it blew out the candle. In the pitch black that immediately descended, the hand in Paula's pants slithered around to her front and plunged into her pussy, while another hand flew up her T-shirt and squeezed her tit. Just as quickly, the hands were gone. In the next instant, she saw Steve on his knees, holding a match to the tiny stub of candle. The flame went out before the wick caught. In the match's flare, Paula had seen Pete across the room, next to Lucy. Steve tried again, but the matches were too wet. From somewhere in the gloom Bobbi Jo's voice suggested they just call it a night. Amid general agreement, a whisper floated into Paula's ear. "Meet me in the hot tub. You won't need a suit." It sounded like Sam. It had to be Sam. But in the darkness, Paula couldn't see a thing. When she reached out, there was no one there. Several minutes of confusion followed, a black tableau filled with thumps and muttered apologies. Paula made her way to her bedroom without major injury, quickly shucked her clothes and pulled on a robe. Steve, or at least a shadow that sounded like him, walked in. Paula told him she was going downstairs to retrieve a few things she'd stowed away in the car by mistake. It was a feeble excuse, but she was hoping he'd just nod off and never know how long she was gone. She left quickly and padded downstairs. It was tough to negotiate between the cars in the dark, and she banged into something. A door somewhere squeaked open. She heard Bobbi Jo calling: "Someone there? Sam? You OK?" Paula held her breath. Bobbi Jo called out again, louder. At last Sam answered and the door squeaked closed. Paula made it to the hot tub with only a couple of curses as unseen obstacles attacked her. She found the tub by poking her arms in front of her like feelers and climbed in, slipping off her robe. She shivered for a minute before she adjusted to the lukewarm water. There was silence. "Lucy?" she whispered. "Are you ... Oh." Her fingers brushed soft skin. "Sssh," Lucy hissed. "I was afraid it was Bobbi Jo. I think she's suspicious." "What if she --" "She won't, I think. She can't be sure. And, besides, she doesn't own me, and she knows it. I think her attitude is don't get mad, get even." "Get even? How? I'm here and I'm pretty sure Lucy's getting it on with Pete tonight. God knows they've both tried." "There's more than one sex, you know." "Bobbi Jo with Randall? She couldn't get past the snores." Sam giggled. "Didn't you bring a man with you?" "Steve?" Paula almost shouted, then quieted back to a whisper. "Oh, please. He's no threat." "You never know," Sam said. "Enough talking," Paula murmured. Their lips met. Under the water, fingers found havens. Sam was clearly more experienced than Lucy had been. Indeed, Paula thought, even she was learning a thing or two. But passion couldn't overcome discomfort. The tub's water was giving her a chill. They got out. Sam spread towels on a beach chair. Paula was still a bit cold as a breeze brought some of the rain under the overhang that sheltered the tub, but as they settled into a 69, Sam soon took care of warming her up. There was something marvelous, Paula told herself, about coupling with a person who understood exactly what you were feeling. Sam's tongue didn't stab into her like a faux penis or lap at her like a dog. It was a precise instrument, unfolding multiple layers of sensuality. Her hands roamed the younger woman's lithe body. Though Paula would admit to no imperfections in herself, she did admire the taut muscles in Sam's thighs, the sinuous curves of her back. And, especially, that ass -- round and almost plump, so in contrast to what she thought of as her own trim rump. It was a delight to squeeze and feel the ripe flesh bulge between her spread fingers. All in all, a grand bit of sex -- so grand that Paula let out with moans once or twice before Sam could shush her. Let Bobbi Jo find out, she thought, I don't care. Nothing could interfere with something this sweet. Then it got even better. A warmth welled up from her loins, turning her entire body to a ruby-glowing coal. The tremors started and in a flash transformed into wholesale convulsions. Vaguely she was aware of Sam coming on top of her, but little could penetrate her euphoric haze. As the glow wore off, though, Paula became aware of the mist again. While Sam scampered back to her room, Paula trailed after, tugging on her dark, fleecy robe. As she passed Sam and Bobbi Jo's room, she heard the young woman shouting: "I knew it!" She momentarily wondered about it, but in the next second she stumbled into something sharp and noisy. When she got back to her feet, cursing, she just searched out the stairs and went up to the main floor. It hadn't gotten any brighter, but it had gotten more dangerous. A suitcase -- she identified it by the handle that dug into her shin as she landed on it -- tackled her two steps into the living room. She was clambering up when the snoring a few feet away ended in a snort and the sound of clanging springs. "What's that?" Randall's voice came nearer. "Who's -- Lucy?" His hands closed on the bathrobe Paula was wearing -- the robe, she remembered, that she'd borrowed from Lucy the night before. She kept quiet and thought furiously. "Lucy? It is you, is--" Randall's question was smothered by a kiss. They tumbled onto the sofa bed in a tangle of arms and legs, robe and pajamas flying off. They wasted little time on preliminaries; Randall was obviously horny and Paula was afraid of doing something unLucylike. So in no time at all she was on her back, legs spread, and Randall's cock was splitting her pussy lips. "Wow, you're already so wet," he said. "I can go right in. Oh, baby, yeah!" They fucked wildly, making the sofa bed's springs screech and squeal in protest. Randall's technique, such as it was, involved often stiffening his legs and torso while his ass pumped up and down with jackhammer frequency. It was not the most stimulating lovemaking, so Paula ad-libbed, wiggling her body underneath him. He surprised her by coming far too quickly and trying to roll off. Paula clamped her thighs around him, dug her fingers into his fleshy middle and held tight. Randall groaned as she ground her pussy against his softening cock. "Lucy, Lucy," he pleaded, "no more!" Paula gritted her teeth and held on. Eventually she was rewarded with a mild resurrection. Rolling him onto his back, she rode him hard. Only when she added her finger to the action, though, was she able to touch off a relatively inconsequential orgasm. It took forever, but in comparison to the fireworks she'd expected, it was a damp squib. That time it was Randall who wanted more, but Paula pushed him away and tiptoed away. She walked across the kitchen and pulled open a window. A faint, salty breeze cooled her sweaty skin. The rain had stopped. With the planes flying, at least they stood a good chance of getting out of Mestife after all, she thought. Randall was calling to his wife. Paula eased onto the windowsill, keeping quiet. Poor Lucy, she thought -- that was what she called her best fuck? It seemed like an eternity before snores were rattling from the living room. The coast was clear. She softly stalked toward her bedroom, wondering why she was bothering to be quiet. Those snores could mask the sound of a tank battalion. How could Lucy live with him? Paula was still shaking her head when something smacked into her from behind and she stumbled, suddenly realizing with a lurch that she'd gotten confused in the dark and stepped toward the stairs. ---- ---- ---- Steve rolled to the side of the bed and swung his legs down. Whatever Paula had gone to retrieve, it was taking an awful long time. Should he go down to check? He dithered, feet dangling. There had been some odd noises. On the other hand, she always said he was overly protective; she'd virtually banned him from calling home from work. Still... With a sigh, he dropped his feet to the floor, padded out past Randall's snores and went downstairs. Damn, he thought, it really is dark. He floundered around, bumping into one thing after another. Softly he called out his wife's name, not wanting to disturb Sam and Bobbi Jo. Without warning, a body was pressed to his, warm lips were covering his face in kisses, soft hands encircled his neck. "Paula," he murmured when they came up for air, "what -- why?" Another insistent kiss was the only answer. Such an aggressive approach was very unusual for his wife, but Steve heartily approved. This was a very unusual weekend, after all. And being pursued in the dark was a definite turn-on. His cock was rising. Feeling the firm, naked body under his fingers only aroused him more. His dick popped through the fly of his cotton bottoms, landing on a patch of hair before a hand grasped it. She squeezed and pulled until he was hard as rock. All the while, insistent lips covered his face in kisses. Then he was pushed back until he felt the smooth metal and glass of a car pressing into his back. She reached above his shoulders, taking hold of the car's roof, climbing on top of him. His cock prodded at something wet and hot. Steve used one hand to hold her ass; the other guided his dick into place. He was going to slide it over her slit, tease her a little, but she was having none of that. As soon as his prick touched her cunt she let herself down onto it, letting it drive deep inside her. He groaned into her mouth. She was wiggling up and down, giving him sensations he'd never had before. Her slippery pussy walls even seemed to grab at him. "Paula, Paula, oh, sweet Paula," he whispered. "I love you so much!" Again she answered with a kiss, her tongue pushing into his mouth, his lips devouring him. When he tried to speak once more, she shushed him, and she squeezed her thighs around him, stilling his thrusts. In the silence he heard rustling, someone talking -- it sounded like Bobbi Jo's friend Sam -- and a loud clatter. After the thumps of someone going upstairs, it was quiet again. And she was at it again, bouncing on his dick. He humped back at her, like old times, he thought, fucking like minks anywhere, anytime. Like they hadn't a care in the world. All too soon, he drove deep into her once, twice, and a spurt of cum pumped into her quivering cunt. He sighed, sagged against the car, and became painfully aware that a door handle had been digging into the small of his back. He let her off and put a hand to his back, rubbing the spot. By the time he was able to stand up straight, she was gone. He called softly and got no answer, but then he heard the muffled sound of a shower. Stiffly, he started upstairs. The sounds of sex made him smile. Randall and Lucy were really going at it, he thought. But then he winced at a twinge in his back. Knowing Paula could take a half-hour easy in the shower, he thought longingly of the relief a firm bed could give. Lucy's! Of course, he realized; it would do the trick. He got up the stairs somehow. After a bit of confusion when he somehow went to the wrong door and almost walked in on that hound, Pete, he got to the empty bed and blissfully lay back. And suddenly, there she was all over again. Lips pressed to his, a soft hand on his cock. Even more astonishing than the idea of Paula seeking him out twice in one night was the notion that he could respond. But there it was, undeniable. A hard-on springing up like a howitzer. Steve tried to thrust immediately, but she wiggled so much he couldn't aim. The encounter grew even more astonishing when those hot lips began to move down. Down to his neck, little love bites. Down to his chest, a trail of fiery kisses. Down to his cock, pillow-soft lips touching him there. Steve tried to speak but all that came out were inarticulate animal noises. A tongue swirling around, hands jacking him off -- he was afraid he'd blow his load right then, and a third try would have been unthinkable. But only the almost unthinkable happened -- he held off, even as blast of pleasure rocketed through his loins. He held off, even as she swung around and lowered her cunt to his mouth. He held off, even as she slowly pressed her lips down, down, down his shaft until -- sweet honey in the rock! -- she had all of his dick in her mouth. It was absolutely unprecedented, the whole night was. Steve was so excited that he lapped at her pussy like a wild dog, tongue flapping, poking in and out. His hands squeezed her perfectly round ass, pulling her right into his mouth. He could barely breath, but he didn't care. It was too damn good to worry about something as trivial as breathing. And what she was doing to his cock! She seemed to know every pressure point and just how much he could take without going over the edge. It was too wonderful for words. He almost cried out when her lips pulled off his dick. But then she was maneuvering again and something else warm and wet -- and even tighter -- was surrounding his shaft, swallowing him whole. Steve at first just took what she had to give, letting her set a leisurely pace. She sat erect, grinding her hips onto him over and over as his hands caressed her smooth waist, her proud tits. He said a silent prayer that light would somehow sneak into the room. What he wouldn't give to see the lusty sheen on Paula's face! But the blackness continued to hug them like a blanket. Steve's erection was setting all-time records for longevity, and it inspired him to creative heights as well. He rolled over on top of her and she came almost at once, a rocking, moaning climax. As soon as she settled down he swung her heels up to his shoulders, squeezing her box tight as he plunged into it again and again. Next he spooned her, sliding his pole in from behind as he held one of her legs straight up in the air. She came a second time. He rolled her onto her chest and pulled her down until her legs were hanging off the bed. Standing with his knees pressed against the side of the mattress, Steve plowed into her fertile delta yet again. Finally he tugged her off the bed and swept her into his arms. Staggering a little, he cupped her butt in his hands and eased her cunt onto his cock. She wrapped her arms and legs around his body. As sweat poured off them, they rutted passionately. Steve ended up with his back pressed to the wall as they fit prick to pussy wildly, over and over and over. Release was a long, gradual process, building and building in infinitesimal increments before peaking in a rush of hot cum, Steve's deep groans mixing with the sounds and fury of yet another orgasm for her. ---- ---- ---- Walking bow-legged and wiping sweat from her face, a woman opened the door of the bedroom. She leaned against the doorjamb for a second, taking deep breaths. As she took a step into the hall, a whisper froze her. "Wow, Paula," was all it said. The woman had turned to stone. As she stood, one foot in the hall, one still in the room, a door clicked open across the corridor. She held her breath. Someone -- just a darker shadow in the blackness -- stepped into the hall. There was more whispering, sounds so soft they wouldn't make it to the bed behind her. When the whispers died and footsteps paced down the hall, the woman's nostrils flared. She stepped back into the room only long enough to snatch her clothes from the floor, then turned and tiptoed out and down the stairs. Shortly afterward, a man came out of the bedroom she'd left. He stumbled around and eventually bumped into the end by the stairs, putting his hands to the wall and moving them around as if feeling for something. The sound of a toilet flushing came from the far end. The man paused, turned his head. By the time he'd started walking toward the noise, someone else had left the bathroom and padded down the hall, turning into an open doorway and shutting it behind. As the latch clicked, the first man passed by. ---- ---- ---- Paula stumbled and took a step to steady herself. Her foot came down on nothing. She pitched forward, windmilling her arms. Her foot finally landed on a stair, but she was off-balance. Her right hand slapped the wall but found no purchase. Her left brushed something hard -- the railing, but she got only a fingertip grasp. It slowed her, but her momentum ripped her away and sent her down. She took the next few steps two at a time, bouncing from side to side. Somehow she got turned sideways. She managed to get both hands on the rail and breathed a sigh of relief. Then her foot slipped off the edge of the stair, catching her by surprise. The strain on her arms pulled them free and she felt herself falling through space. All she could think about was the bare concrete pad at the bottom. Then hands were grabbing her. One second she was poised in midair. The next she was sitting on the stairs, breathing hard, her heart racing. Soft hands were on her shoulders. Warm flesh was pressed to her back. Slowly she became aware that the warm flesh was womanly. And the soft hands slipped down, skating over her heaving breasts, landing on her nipples. Paula turned toward her savior. Wet lips pressed to hers. A probing tongue entered her mouth. She threw her questions aside and returned the kiss lustily. Her hands traced the mystery woman's contours. Like a blind man, she put her fingers to the unseen face, but it yielded no clues. It didn't matter. Her adrenalin surge had energized her other hormones as well. Sex was all that mattered. In the dark, there were no inhibitions. Whoever this woman was, Paula wanted her. Completely. Her lips found the other woman's breasts. Her teeth tugged at the erect nipples, and it seemed she could feel it on her own body. As her hands again drifted to the unknown face, her fingers were sucked in, one by one, to a hot and hungry mouth. Paula shivered every time. And she shook when other fingers came out of the dark and found her slick cunt, dove in, gave her the knowing strokes only a woman can give another. There was just her and this other woman, Paula was sure of that. But she could have been in an orgy. Every part of her was aflame. They writhed against each other, flesh on flesh. The fingers inside her pushed deeper, faster. In the blackness of the night, Paula saw stars pinwheeling inside her fluttering eyelids. It hit suddenly, an impact that almost tore her apart. She laced her fingers together behind the other woman's back, hugging her tightly as her body shook. Golden warmth raced through her. Her back arched and a purr like a fine racing engine filled her throat. When it was over -- or, rather, when it was ebbing; the effects seemed as if they would last for days -- Paula was surprised to discover that she had melted several steps lower. Her face felt the musky heat of a woman's sex. She turned to it as if it were a roaring furnace in the midst of an icy wilderness, basking in its warmth. Tenderly her hands crept up the doe-soft skin of well-shaped thighs. Her fingernails did figure-eights drawing closer and closer to the treasure at the center. The minutes stretched out as Paula played a prolonged tease, reaching the very edge of the outermost lips before dancing away. She planted feather-soft kisses on the inner thighs, rubbed her breasts along the other woman's legs. When, at last, Paula's tongue hovered above the slit and dropped in, gentle as dandelion fluff, the other woman's hips suddenly heaved upward. Paula was astonished at the intensity of the orgasm, which almost knocked her over in the woman's flailing convulsions. ---- ---- ---- Steve splashed water into the sink and fumbled around until he'd found a washcloth to rinse his sweaty body. Feeling bold and carefree, he marched back down the hallway, stopping when his hand brushed a door frame. One more time he was confused. The door was closed. He was sure he'd left it open. He tentatively reached across to the opposite door. Open? With a shake of his head he stepped in to search for his pajama bottoms. He was running his hands over the bedsheet when two arms pulled him down. "Paula? I thought you went downstairs," Steve said, allowing himself to be drawn onto his back. She only giggled, but she got on top of him, her tits trailing across his chest as her pussy ground into his flaccid penis. Steve groaned. "Oh, no, I couldn't. You wore me out the last time. I -- oh." She had moved down and her lips were coaxing new life out of his soft flesh. "I don't believe it," he whispered as his cock sprang back, growing rigid in her mouth. "God, you're so hot," he sighed as she straddled him, pulling his hands to her breasts. "You're so very, very sexy." She braced herself with her hands on his chest and lifted up. When she came down, he felt his dick nestle in her velvet folds. She took him as slow as molasses, down and down until she was sitting on him, her ass rubbing his balls. Her ministrations had revived his prick, but they'd done nothing for his worn-out muscles. He could only sag into the mattress and let her do all the work. That she did, performing something like a hula as she lifted up his shaft and slid back down, again and again. Steve thought he would be numb, but the wiggling made their fucking just as exciting as ever. He let his hands fall exhausted from her tits and concentrated on the mind-blowing sensations roiling his groin. He lost track of time. There was only the two of them and that sensual rhythm. He was Superman, she was Wonder Woman, and they could do anything. Anything! Most especially, they could fuck. And they did. Her pussy gobbling him up, over and over and over and over until he felt the sharp edge of orgasm sneaking up on him. It crept closer, closer, then arrived -- shockingly understated, a popgun after a nightlong cannonade. But he was too spent to be regretful. And she wouldn't let up even when he began to beg her, wincing at the overload to his nervous system. Only when she came too, in shuddering, throbbing waves of passion, did she allow him to slip out of her tunnel. After a minute or two he heard the bedsprings creak and she was gone. He opened his eyes -- and was stunned to see the first dim hint of dawn at the window. He sat up in bed, scratched, looked around in vain for his pajamas. Vaguely he sensed something wrong. Then he figured it out. He needed to pee. Bad. He trotted into the hall and peered at the faint outlines. Paula must have gone to the upstairs bath. Steve went down, slipped past the snoring body of Randall sprawled across the sofa bed and raced to the master bath. He was standing at the toilet when it hit him. Randall was alone in bed. Where was Lucy? Could she -- he staggered, spray whizzing onto the floor before he caught himself -- could that have been? An icy dread trickled down his back. Surely not, he told himself. Lucy would have said -- wouldn't she? And Paula wasn't in the bedroom. Didn't that prove something? Unless she had seen -- Steve staggered to the bed and fell in. His mind raced as he tried to recall the woman he'd so recently fucked. It all was a blur, details lost in a testosterone haze. But surely Lucy -- ? His mind swam and he clutched at mental flotsam. Did it feel like Paula's pussy? Was the hair as soft? And where were his pajamas? He was worrying and wondering when he heard someone walk into the room. He opened his eyes. Yes, that was definitely his wife. She didn't look angry. She looked -- well-fucked. And that smell -- there was no mistaking it. Steve smiled. ---- ---- ---- Paula noticed a faint square of pinkish gray over her head. It took a little while for her to figure out it was the frosted-glass pane in the front door. She got up and pulled the door open. Dawn poured into the stairwell. She blinked at the light and turned away from it. She looked down at her mystery lover. And gasped. "Margit! How did you get here? What -- you left in Atlanta!" The woman she was talking to was a Latina -- a very well-built Latina, which Paula could see very clearly because her naked body was sprawled over the stairs. Margit sat up and told a simple story as she picked up pieces of clothing strewn along the stairs and got dressed. She had changed her mind in Atlanta, but too late to catch the same flight as the rest of them. She played catch-up, but the grounding of the island's only plane service stalled her, until that night. She'd bummed a ride from the airport, determined to surprise Pete and save her marriage. "But the son of a bitch was screwing some woman," she snarled. "I ran into Bobbi Jo when I got here. She was in some kind of argument with that friend of hers, but she pointed me up the stairs and told me how to find his room. And the son of a bitch is fucking -- who was that? Lucy? That other friend of yours, right? What kind of whore is she?" Paula smiled. "Lucy? Give her a break. Her husband's a lousy lay, and she says he's the best she's ever had. Hell, my husband's better than him." "Whatever," Margit snorted. "But you'd be pissed if she went and fucked -- what is it, Steve?" "Nah. I mean, not that Steve would ever have the balls to do it. That's your trouble. That husband of yours can't keep it in his pants. He screws anything with tits." She paused. "Anyone who'll do it, I mean." "You're right. God, what an idiot I am. I got him when he played around behind his last wife." "Wait a minute," Paula said. "If you went up and caught him, how come you were coming downstairs naked?" "I -- I was going to surprise him, like I said. You know." She winked. "Big surprise. But fuck him. I'm getting out of here." Margit stood up. A pair of pajama bottoms fell out of her mauve skirt. She looked down at them. "Oh, right," she said. "Those are Pete's, the little shit." "Huh," Paula said. "Steve has a pair just like them." "You take them, then. Stick them in Steve's bag. I got 'em out of Pete's room and I'll be damned if I give 'em back." Margit handed over the pajamas and came down the stairs. Her bags were neatly stacked next to the cars in the garage. "Now I'm catching the next flight out and get to a divorce lawyer just as fast as I can." Paula stood naked, letting the rising sun warm her. She looked out into the empty street. "How are you going anywhere?" "We'll take her." Sam walked over, arm in arm with Bobbi Jo. "The rest of you should be able to fit in the other car later on. Just tell them we were in a hurry." With a wave, Paula went upstairs, past Randall's snores and into her bedroom. For a second it struck her that Steve might wonder where she'd been, if he'd woken in the night to find she was gone. But when she crawled into bed he actually snuggled up to her. She usually cold-shouldered him, but it was their anniversary weekend, after all. She rolled over to face him and put a hand onto his cock. It was soft, and Steve pushed her away. "I couldn't," he said, "I really couldn't." Paula shifted onto her back and turned her head to hide her frown. Typical, she thought. Who could blame her for getting a little on the side, with a dud like that for a husband. Steve put a hand on her stomach. She tensed. "But," he said, "it really has been the perfect weekend, hasn't it? I think this is just what we needed. You were right. Thanks, honey." She endured his kiss and then rolled onto her side. This, she thought, this was his idea of a perfect weekend. God, maybe Lucy is the one who should pity me. At least her husband's not a eunuch. THE END <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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