Chapter 4
Totally numb, Carol managed to get through the rest of the weekend without revealing just how shattered she was. The children had been wholly engrossed in their own lives, and Frank, good old proper Frank, had made only a passing reference to how tired she seemed. She had brushed off his mild concern by promising to rest more during the day.
Carol felt much older than her thirty-four years Monday morning as she sat at the kitchen table nursing her coffee. The family had scattered as usual, leaving Carol in echoing silence, her mind blank.
"Good morning," Marje called from the back fence.
"C'mon over, Marje," Carol invited, trying to put life into her voice.
"Hi, how's the coffee supply?" Marje was as enthusiastic as usual.
"Help yourself," Carol told her listlessly.
"Thanks. How was the weekend?"
Carol shrugged.
"Oh-oh," Marje said as she sat down, "let me guess. You owe me a fancy lunch." Carol sighed. "Yeah, I guess so."
"Don't take it so hard. He loves you, you know."
"I don't know," Carol said, sighing. Her feelings suddenly swelled upward in an unstoppable geyser. "Oh, God, it was just awful," she blurted out, dissolving in tears.
Marge sat stunned for a moment, then got up and pulled Carol into her arms. Carol fell into the welcome haven and bawled. After a few minutes, Marje guided Carol into the living room and settled her on the couch. As Carol tried to hold back her sobs, Marje got the bottle of brandy, poured a glass, and forced Carol to choke it down. The fiery liquid blazed down Carol's throat and warmed her belly.
Marje watched her friend closely and finally broke the silence. "I think I know exactly what happened."
"No, you don't," Carol denied, still choking on her sobs.
"Let me take a wild guess," Marje countered. "You were unfaithful to Frank."
Carol was caught by surprise. "How'd you know?" she gasped.
Marje shrugged. "Believe me, you were ready for it. All I'm doing is putting two and two together. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the sequence went something like this. Just when you were getting good and warmed up by your daydreams, Frank woke up and had to dash off to the golf course, right?"
Carol nodded mutely.
"So there you were, at home, alone, home as a Texas steer, and furious at Frank for breaking his promise. Right?"
"Uh-huh," Carol agreed, sipping the brandy.
Marje made a face indicating a sudden thought. "I saw that healthy young stud at your back door. He's the one, right?"
Carol nodded miserably.
"Well, at least you had the sense to pick a live one for your first shot at infidelity," Marje said approvingly.
"Marje, what a thing to say!"
"What's to say? Look, if you're going to get a little on the side, what's the sense in messing around with low-voltage stuff?"
Carol abruptly got up from the couch and went to get more brandy. "That's not the point," she protested. "I was unfaithful to my husband."
"So what's to be unfaithful to?" Marje shot back. "When was the last time he was a real husband to you?"
"Frank's a good husband," Carol protested.
"Bullshit."
"Marje, he is a good husband," Carol retorted. "He's a good provider, and he is faithful to me. I think. And I do love him."
"He's a good provider, you love him, and you think he's faithful. Oh, boy, that's a great basis for a marriage." Marje almost sneered.
"Well, what more is there?" Carol asked.
"How about a little companionship? What about being a friend and confidant? And I suppose it's too much to ask for a little love, affection, and consideration?" Marje replied.
"Oh, Marje," Carol sighed. "I don't know."
Marje softened her tone. "Look, don't get me wrong. All I'm trying to say is that it isn't the end of the world if you're unfaithful to your husband."
"It's not just that," Carol admitted, "though that's bad enough. It's the kids, too."
"What's the matter with them? One of them got a social disease?"
"Marje!" Carol exclaimed.
"So what's wrong with the kids? They're the healthiest children I've ever seen."
"They're growing up so fast," Carol replied.
"Yeah, kids have a way of doing that," Marje said wryly. "Been doing that for at least the last billion years."
"Oh, Marje! It's not just that. You think I'm a clinging mother or something," Carol said.
"Huh-uh," Marje denied, shaking her head. "If anyone in the neighborhood is going to be a Jewish mother it'll have to be me. I'm the only one who qualifies."
Carol had to smile at this. "You're too much."
Marje grinned back and chewed mischievously on the tip of her pony tail. "Feeling better?"
Carol grinned weakly. "Yeah, I guess so."
"Good. Now, tell Mama Marje all about it."
"Well, you were right about Saturday. I'll take you to lunch today."
"Oh, fiddlesticks, that's not necessary."
"No, a bet is a bet. And you were right about the rest of it, too. I was furious at Frank, and boiling hot." Carol went on to tell of her seduction of Mike.
"Wow, sounds like a real stud," Marje said. "Next time he comes around, let me have a shot at him."
"Marje! What about Paul?"
"What about him?" Marje asked with a grin, and shrugged. "How's he to find out?"
"Don't you ever get enough?" Carol asked.
"When it comes to sex, I told you, I can never get enough," Marje said. "Anyway, what's this about the kids?"
"Remember I sent them off to that beach party? You were right to worry about them. I should have."
"A real wild show, huh? What happened; did Pam get raped?"
"Darn near," Carol admitted. "It was a real orgy."
"How'd you find out? Did they tell you?"
Carol admitted to her eavesdropping and told Marje what she had heard. Finishing the story, she sipped the last of the brandy. "What should I do?"
"What's to worry about? I thought it was something serious. The kids are both still virgins, and they seem to know what they're doing," Marje said practically.
"At the rate they're going, they won't be virgins much longer."
"True, true," Marje admitted. "But I've always thought virginity was an overrated commodity. I mean, like I sure didn't miss mine when I lost it. In fact, I've always thought I gained quite a bit."
"But what if Pam gets pregnant?" Carol asked worried.
"Pregnancy is an avoidable state, you know," Marje said dryly. "Put her on the pill."
"At thirteen? And what about VD?" Carol protested.
"If they're old enough to mess around the way they have been, they're old enough for the Pill," Marje stated firmly.
"There's still VD," Carol insisted.
"There's also penicillin," Marje retorted.
"But I don't want my daughter sleeping with every kid in the neighborhood," Carol protested.
"Uh-uh, double standard." Marge waggled a finger in Carol's face. "That's a no-no today."
"Okay, I don't want Jack shacking up with every hussy in school, either."
"I don't know what you think you can do about it," Marje said practically.
"I don't, either," Carol admitted miserably.
"You want to know what I think?" Marje asked diplomatically.
"What?" Carol replied, surprised at Marje's tone.
"I think it's about time you had some faith in the upbringing you've given those children."
"I never brought them up to go to beach parties like that one on Saturday," Carol protested.
"Of course not," Marje agreed. "But I don't think you even considered parties like that a possibility when you were raising Jack and Pam."
"But I did try to teach them right from wrong."
"And you think what they did is wrong," Marje said. "Evidently, they think differently. What you have taught them is to think differently. What you have taught them is to think, which is at least as important. And, you've taught them to choose their friends wisely. Those things taken together should be enough."
"I don't know," Carol said. "Maybe you're right."
"Of course I am," Marje stated emphatically. "And now that we've disposed of that problem, let's tackle the case of the inattentive husband. I know a little something about the subject."
"What do you mean?" Carol asked.
"I had exactly the same problem with Paul."
"You're kidding!" Carol gasped.
"Huh-uh, I kid you not. After we'd been married about five years, he got his head buried in some real deep archeology stuff and a couple of coeds. Our whole marriage damn near went crash."
"What did you do?" Carol asked hopefully.
"What didn't I do? you mean. I used every dirty, underhanded, sneaky trick in the book. One problem I had that you don't was about twenty extra pounds. I dieted, took up archeology, and blew a wad on a new wardrobe, including coveralls and boots."
"Coveralls and boots?"
Marje chuckled. "Yep. And when he started off on his usual summer digging expedition, I invited myself along. A couple of coeds that were planning on wiggling their fannies for A's were the most unhappy little girls you ever saw. Especially when I turned out for the first day's digging in a bikini that would have been banned in the south of France."
"Oh," Carol murmured.
"Didn't quite get through to Paul the first day, so I had a little go with a male grad student; then things changed. I've never let Paul get away from me since. For example, how many times in the past year have you had a headache come bedtime?"
"Never," Carol answered firmly. "I always let him have me when he wants me."
"And you always respond, I suppose."
"Well, I try to," Carol admitted.
"Never mind." Marje got up. "If you're buying me lunch downtown, that gives us a perfect excuse for some shopping. Oh, and one more thing. If you're not getting it good from your husband, why should you turn down a free offer?"
"Marje!"
"Think about it. Now, let's get dressed for some shopping."
As she changed for the outing, Carol wrestled with what Marje had said.
Throughout the shopping trip and lunch, Marje continued to batter at Carol's puritanical defenses, leaving her completely unsure of herself by the time they returned home. A note on the refrigerator in Jack's handwriting informed her that the children would be a little late for dinner, and that Frank was working late. Carol felt a flash of irritation. Everything she had bought had been, under Marje's direction, chosen with Frank in mind.
Muttering curses under her breath, Carol stomped up the stairs. Tossing the packages on the bed, she stripped off her clothes. It was another hot, sunny summer day, and even the air-conditioned stores had been uncomfortable. Restlessly, Carol dug out the new purchase she was most unsure of. Slipping into it, she posed in front of the full-length mirror. The outfit was a bikini Carol regarded as being scandalously brief. The cups of the bra were a soft, clinging fabric barely strong enough to support Carol's full breasts. As she studied herself in the suit, her nipples peaked sharply for some reason and were plainly evident through the thin material. The bottom of the suit was cut so low that it exposed a few wisps of pubic hair.
"Maybe it'll be better when I shave," Carol muttered to herself. The fabric hugged her mound of Venus tightly, leaving nothing to the imagination. Carol dug out the razor she used on her legs and made a few quick passes over her belly, pushing the edge of the suit down and shaving under it to make sure no hair would show. Finishing, she stepped in front of the mirror to survey the effect. The suit still seemed indecent in its brevity and the way it clung to her. In the back, a little of the cleavage between her buttocks showed above the suit's bottom, and it had a tendency to bunch up between her buttocks.
"Very nice, very nice indeed," Mike Santucci said from the doorway, his voice making Carol whirl around in shock.
"Mike, what are you doing here?" Carol gasped.
The youth leaned negligently against the doorframe. "It's hot again, Mrs. Anderson. I didn't think you'd mind if I got a ginger ale."
Carol tried to still her fears. "The soft drinks are in the basement, Mike."
The youth smiled. "I know it. But I didn't think I should have any without letting you know."
"It's quite all right." Carol suddenly remembered how provocatively she was dressed and tried to cover herself with her hands.
"Shucks, Mrs. Anderson„ don't spoil the view," Mike said, grinning.
"I think you'd better get out of here right now," Carol ordered, her voice shaking.
"What? And miss out on this show? You must be kidding."
"I'm warning you. My husband will be home very soon, Mike."
"Huh-uh, untrue, Mrs. Anderson. I read the note on the refrigerator, too." Moving slowly, he stepped into the bedroom. He was bare to the waist again, his heavily tanned torso gleaming with sweat. As he moved with the easy grace of an athlete, his muscles flexed and rippled, riveting Carol's gaze.
"Le . . . leave me alone, Mike."
Wordlessly, Mike shook his head. His dark eyes bored into hers, making her melt inside. She dropped her gaze, trying to escape the power he exuded. Her eye was caught by the bulge in his pants and her breath caught in her throat. His hand took her chin and tipped her head back. Hypnotized, Carol froze as his lips descended on hers. The first touch sent a jolt of fire through her, and she felt herself responding despite her best efforts. As she melted into his strong embrace, his rough hands went around her. Carol felt her will to resist dissolving under the incredible heat of his embrace and kiss.
"You're a lot of woman, Carol," Mike whispered.
"Please, stop," Carol pleaded weakly. In response, his fingers stroked her back, his callused hands scratching her tender flesh. She tried to resist and pull back, but fell deeper into his trap. He smelled masculine, of sweat and the earth. Her head was nestled in the curve of his shoulder and neck as he stroked her back. Carol's knees weakened, her pelvis sagging in against him. She could feel the bulge of his cock through his pants.
"Let me look at you," Mike said, pushing her away from him. His fingers brushed over her, from her throat down to her chest, where his hands measured and weighed her full breasts through the flimsy top of the bikini. "You're beautiful," he murmured. "Take off your top."
Even as she tried to shake her head in denial, her hands reached behind her back for the simple buttons. In a second the top was loose. She dropped her arms and stood before him, head hanging. The bra clung to her breasts until he reached out and removed it, slowly sliding the straps down her arms. When her breasts came into view, her large nipples were sharp and alert before his gaze.
Dropping the bra, his fingers pinched and pulled Carol's nipples, making them almost painfully stiff, sending jolts of passion shooting through her.
Standing paralyzed before him, Carol pulled her shoulders back, offering him her breasts. "Oh, God," she moaned as her passions blazed higher with every touch of his fingers.
She stood, helplessly frozen, when his hands released her breasts and moved lower. Carefully, the youth rolled the bottom of her suit down over her full hips, slowly stripping her of her last covering. As the air reached more and more of her exposed skin, slightly stirring her pubic hair, Carol fought for breath. In a second the bikini was down around her ankles and she stepped out of the tiny garment, lifting first one foot, then the other. Totally nude, totally at the young man's mercy, Carol stood before him. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears of passion and shame trickling from beneath her closed lids. Carol felt as if her entire body were afire with passion.
"Strip me," Mike ordered softly.
"What?" Carol asked, dazed.
"Strip me," Mike repeated, a little louder.
Mutely, Carol reached for his wide leather belt and struggled for a second with the buckle before managing to undo it. The button and zipper of the pants went more quickly, and she tugged the tight garment down over his trim hips. To slip the pants down his legs, she had to kneel before him. His cock was erect and ready under his Jockey shorts, a massive pole tenting out the thin garment. Numbly, Carol eased his shorts out over the incredible staff and pushed them down his legs.
As she knelt before him, his cock bobbed in front of her face. She felt as helpless before it as a rabbit in front of a cobra. A tiny voice deep inside her was pleading with Carol to stop, but it was drowned out by her passion. Without his asking she reached for the big prick and gripped it with her hands. The purple head seemed to beg for attention, and her mouth was drawn to it. Slowly she sucked it in, a kiss she had never granted to her husband. Carol began to suck the big cock gently, drawing more and more of it into her mouth until she gagged.
"Enough," Mike gasped, pushing her head away.
Eyes pleading, Carol leaned back, looking up at Mike. His strong hands reached down, gripped her arms, and lifted her from the floor as if she were a feather. He tumbled her on her back on the soft bed, and she spread herself for him.
"Take me," she pleaded, and Mike complied, bearing down on her, his red-hot cock drilling into her slick channel. The first driving thrust blew Carol's mind to fragments, sending her shooting to a tremendous orgasm before the youth was an inch into her cunt. As he continued to drive farther and farther in, she roared toward another orgasm. She felt as if his impatient, youthful cock were tearing her wide-open. The room whirled and dissolved around her, leaving only that incredible poker pistoning in and out of her belly, in and out in a rhythm as old as time itself. She felt him quicken his pace and matched him, lifting her pelvis, grinding her pussy against him, her thighs gripping his muscular hips as he drove into her. The bed protested louder and louder as the youngster rammed his bulk into her. He began to come, and his hips moved in quick, hard, brutal strokes with every blast of his cock. His cum scaled her guts with every shot, wringing still another orgasm from Carol's tortured vagina, leaving her gasping for breath, struggling to remain sane in a world engulfed by passion and pleasure. Exhausted, he collapsed on top of her.
Finally the swarthy youth rolled off her, his now-reduced cock slipping from her. He lay next to her on the bed, one hand gently cupping one of her full breasts.
"You're quite a woman, Mrs. Anderson."
"I think," Carol said dryly, "under the circumstances you could call me Carol again." She looked deep into his dark eyes. "You're quite a man, Mike. Why did you come here today?"
Mike made a face as he toyed idly with one of her nipples. "I could say it was to work on the fish pond, couldn't I?"
"You could, but it wouldn't be true, would it?"
"No, it wouldn't. I came back because of you."
"You know I'm married, and that I love my husband," she told him.
"I know," he acknowledged. "But it doesn't matter. It's not important."
"But it is important," Carol said. "Love is very important."
"But this isn't love," Mike replied, tugging at her nipple, making Carol gasp. "This is fucking, something entirely different."
"Oh," Carol said, beginning to understand, feeling a surge of disappointment. "You don't love me."
Mike smiled, but not cruelly. "No, Ma'am, I don't. But you're a good fuck."
"Then fuck me again," Carol said. "Fuck me like you've never fucked anyone before."
"Yes, Ma'am," Mike agreed willingly. His hand traced a demanding path down her belly to her cunt, his finger prying knowingly into her eager channel.
Carol's passion flared to life again. Feeling totally wanton, completely debased, she spread her thighs for him, welcoming his rude intrusion into her cunt. As he brutally felt her up, she reached for his slowly rising cock with one hand and milked it to life, building its strength quickly until it filled her hand with its still-sticky length. It felt hot and hard in her hand, a red-hot ramrod ready to bore into her. The afternoon sun spilled into the bedroom, pinning Carol to the bed, its hot rays increasing her passion. This was the bed she shared with her husband, and the thought made lust and revenge boil higher in her gut. She rolled and twisted her hips as Mike bored his finger up her cunt. She gripped his big cock hard with her hand, her thumb stroking over the head.
Finally, Mike got up, tearing his hand from her cunt. Brutally, he grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her on her back to the edge of the bed, leaving just half of her hips on the mattress. He levered her legs up, bending her knees, driving her thighs up against her breasts. He stepped forward and his ready cock found her gaping cunt, slid inward, and he jammed full length into her with one stroke, making Carol cry out with shock, pain and passion combined. The tearing ache of his driving stroke vanished in a wash of pleasure as he screwed his cock around inside her by madly twisting and rolling his hips. Then he began to stroke in and out, pistoning his hips, his flesh smashing violently against hers, his balls swinging and slapping up against her ass with each violent stroke, until Carol began to come, a gush of juices spilling from her cunt and pouring down her ass. And still he drove into her, making her come again and again in a screaming, roaring series of shots into her belly. As his cock geysered into her, he collapsed on her legs, folding them tightly against her chest, bruising her breasts with her own thighs as he forced her into a tight ball on the edge of the bed.
He held her there while she milked the last oozing drops of cum from his cock with her cunt. Finally the tremors died to a whisper, and Mike let her roll on her side, and tumbled to the bed next to her. For a long time all they could do was fight for breath.
Finally, his cock drained and flaccid, he pulled away from her. As he stood up, Carol rolled onto her back, limp and exhausted. Too tired even to try to cover herself, she lay sprawled on her back, her pussy chilled with their drying juices, as he gazed down at her. She felt his hard, masculine stare, and it excited her, even in her weariness. She didn't move as she heard him dressing and leaving the room. When she was sure he was gone she got wearily to her feet and staggered to the shower to sluice away the sticky cum on her belly and thighs.
Exhausted to the point of collapse, she fell onto the bed, still nude, and dropped off to sleep.