Chapter 4
From old habit, Donnas' occasional turnings in bed had moved her back nearer the center of the bed. And naturally, from habit, she lay on her left side, her right leg raised and bent at the knee, so that her shortie nightgown, now above her waist, left her softly rounded ass completely bare.
And, as it always did, the sight of these smooth globes, divided by a dark, warm cleft, the main feature of which was two fat and pouting cuntlips which protruded in richly haired softness, drew Brad's roving hands.
They were both half-asleep, but Brad's lust was wholly awake as he gently placed the palm of his hand, fingers spread, across this humid valley and pressed his middle finger between the twin cushions which were closed demurely over Donnas' warm, wet inner labia.
He let the finger rest there quietly, gathering a film of the slickness which gathered in those pink folds. The strong and lovely girl-smell just reached his nostrils, causing his cock to expand gently, so that its red head slowly pushed out from the softly folded foreskin.
He drew his hand away and brought the finger up to his lips, holding it there while he breathed in his wife's fragrance. He ran his tongue out and licked the finger before greedily plunging it into his mouth. The taste was exquisite and he came awake with his hard-on almost at full rigidity and fullness.
There was nothing cut and dried about their lovemaking. And their search for variety had never sprung free a need to find new ways to incite a flagging interest. Without thinking too much about it, each of them had been moved by a loving desire to give greater pleasure. And naturally, each attempt to give a new pleasure had had its reward-a richer pleasure for the giver.
Brad's sleepy mind, freed completely of any strain or frustration, especially since he had won-or certainly thought he had won-the argument of the night before, concentrated on a manner of pleasuring Donna and himself. He thought of the smoothness of her ass cheeks and how they would feel against his cheeks. He thought of the considerable amount of lovely cunt-fluids which had accumulated behind those softly closed outer lips.
If he lay on his right side and laid his right cheek on Donnas' inner thigh, glued his mouth to her pink and hot little hole, with the rest of his face nestled against the upper globe of her ass, it would be a pleasant if not spectacular diversion.
He heard Donna stir and closed his eyes, pretending to be still asleep. When she sat up and swung her feet to the floor, he smiled inwardly. Fine. She would go to the bathroom and empty her bladder and return. She would be asleep again in a few minutes. Her cunt would be all the sweeter for the few stray drops of piss left over after she had sleepily wiped.
He lay there, half-dozing, until a strange and unusual fact pushed its way into his mind. Donna had not come back.
He had heard the wet hissing of a hard stream of urine, heard the toilet flush. And after that, nothing. But now he did hear something incredible-pans rattling, a chair being moved. Donna was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. It was obvious that she was not coming back to bed!
At first, he was furious. But then he remembered, somewhat shamefacedly, that he had been perhaps overly vehement in pounding home his logic the night before. And he realized that, in her current condition (her period was five or six days off and she was always unpredictable during those days) she still nurtured some obscurely female grudge. He smiled. Okay, she wanted to punish him a little. He would go along with it. She was always hotter than usual at a time like this. A couple of kisses, a gentle rub and squeeze of her tits and she would be laughing again. Laughing and ready and dragging him back to bed by his cock, her soft, warm hand massaging it as they marched along.
She was sitting with the paper and a cup of coffee and he was nettled to see that she was dressed, not in her gown, but in a pair of hip-hugger jeans and a knit cotton shirt, the latter showing the premenstrual fullness of her sweet breasts.
Brad walked around by her, put his hand down to knead and mold one of her breasts. Instead of responding, instead of raising a merry face for his kiss, she remained stock-still, patiently balancing her coffee cup.
Fashioning a grin of conciliation, Brad bent to kiss her. Her mouth, which normally would've opened eagerly, taking his tongue in to duel with hers, remained closed and cold.
Such a thing had never happened between them before.
In a cold rage, his silence matching hers, Brad ate the minimal breakfast which Donna grudgingly prepared. He dressed for the office in stony silence, leaving a good forty-five minutes earlier than usual. And Donna watched with tears in her eyes as he whipped the Buick out of the drive.
The fact that she was being unreasonable didn't escape her. Donna was no fool. She felt unaccountably lost and forlorn and angry with herself. Almost as angry as she was at Brad.
"I need a fuck worse than he does," she muttered to herself. She squirmed. Biting off her nose to spite her face was a painful thing. But she was suffused with what she thought of as righteous anger.
After all, his callous desire to swap her off without her consent, just to get a highly problematical promotion, wasn't too much in keeping with her marriage vows and his. At this, she had to grin wryly. Brad had been right, of course, about one thing: it wasn't really very rational to balk at a swap, not when she had eagerly accepted others.
Rational be damned! The stupid jerk knew she wasn't ever rational when her period was so close. He knew it and this time he hadn't responded. Didn't a girl have a right to be irrational at this time of the month?
"His fucking ego," she muttered. "Masculine ego!" she spat, as though it were an obscenity. Just because she turned him down! If only he had made one more attempt, one more squeeze at her boob, she would've melted. But again, honesty caught her.
"I'm kidding myself," she whispered miserably. "I wouldn't have melted."
Still, she thought crossly, he could've been a little more understanding. Maybe even sympathetic. No, that would've been insulting. Masculinity patronizing.
Donna sighed and went back to the kitchen. As she sat with her third cup of coffee, not enjoying it, she lost her anger and her feeling of self-pity.
An ache began in her guts, a dry, gnawing feeling in her pussy. Damn! She needed him so much!
She thought of his cock, so smooth and hard. The skin on the column was so soft. Like nothing else in the world! Fitting loosely around that muscled stalk, it slid up and down so freely, so pleasantly under her moving hand. And the head of it-like a huge plum and actually shiny when it was stretched to its fullest by passion. If she had it here, she would mouth it like a plum, enjoying its warmth and smoothness.
"I'm a fool, a miserable, stupid, bitchy fool!" she said aloud. She stood up and felt a warm trickle of lost love-juice run, tickling, into her hairs. Brad had always been reasonable, always fair to her and everyone. And so wonderful in bed!
She stood in front of her big mirror, critically examining her tear-streaked face. How ordinary it seemed in comparison with the shining youth of Maida, the smooth maturity of Alison.
She pointed a finger at her image. "It would serve you right, you idiotic little bitch, if Brad fucked one of them at the office today!" she said. Her self-pity came back in a painful wave and she sat on her make-up bench, crying softly.
In the brief passages between herself and Brad on the day before, Maida had made a discovery which was slightly dismaying. She had always liked him and had respect for his know-how and his ambition. But she had carried home the memory of his hands on her pussy, the sight of his cock, so impulsively displayed, so attractively colored, so instantly HARD.
Add all this to the fact that he hadn't become angry at her seeming coyness, but had been both good-humored and philosophical and it totaled up to a warm, intimate interest. That might be dangerous, Maida admitted to herself, but she was in a mood to court danger. In her most secret wells, as in Donnas', the moon was working its changes, but she was of a less moody temperament. Like Donna, her natural itch for sex grew greater as her period approached, but her mind became sharper, her humor more kindly.
She made no attempt to guess at a motive for Brad's glowering face, his grumpy response to her bright greeting. Since she, too, got up on the wrong side of the bed at times, she knew it could happen to others, even to a man. But when he refused to go for coffee, remained painfully morose in spite of her occasional friendly remarks and didn't comment on the joyful wiggle of her ass as she sharpened her pencils, she sensed that something was wrong enough to demand direct action.
It was quiet on their floor that morning. Most of the "planting" of stories had been done early in the week, even for the Sunday issues. Tom Sorden and Larry Menas were having lunch with clients or media men, their secretaries out, probably engaged in research. It was almost deserted throughout the public relations department.
She had finished typing three letters dictated the day before and now, presenting them for Brad's signature, she stood in exactly the same spot as she had when she had surprised him by saying, "Feel me!"
She noticed the way his dark hair grew heavily along the back of his neck and some stray feeling of maternalism moved her to touch him there. When he didn't look up, she bumped her warm belly against his arm and whispered again, "Feel me!"
One thing she didn't worry about-she knew that his hand would find the same wealth of slickness and warmth dribbling from between the blonde-furred lips between her legs. Whatever barricades she set up mentally against men in general, there was a complicated mechanism of nerves and mucous membranes and muscles and organs that worked together to keep constant heat in the sweet parts that made her a woman.
It gave her a deep hurt that Brad, with more pain than pleasure on his face, reluctantly put a hand up in the warmth between her thighs, touched her perfunctorily and withdrew his fingers almost absently. That was too much, she decided.
Brad found his head clasped by two strong, warm, bare arms, his face turned up to meet a lovely face locked in a smile of hundred-watt intensity and his mouth was enveloped by a warm pair of lips.
His spirits rose as Maida's tongue curled into his mouth to touch his own and bring it to life and he automatically raised his hands to squeeze her boobs as she shamelessly, happily, sucked at his lips and tongue.
He was smiling as she broke the embrace, cocking his head on one side in pleased amazement as she walked firmly to the door and snapped the latch.
They smiled in understanding silence as she picked up her phone and dialed one numeral.
"Hi, Rita," she said to the operator. "Mister Street has gone to lunch with a client and won't be back for a couple of hours, at least. I'm going to lunch, too and then I have to take some maps down to the courthouse to have them registered. I probably won't be back until two-thirty. So look. Tell anybody who calls that we're away and take messages. Okay? Thanks, Rita. You're a pal."
Brad still sat at his desk, but he had lost his look of ill-tempered concentration. Instead, he was both calm and alert, eying Maida with warm speculation.
She got up and faced him, reaching her hands across her body to take the fabric of her clinging shift in that careless and totally feminine gesture which ends with the dress leaving its wearer in one graceful and inviting movement.
"Last one naked is a dirty dish rag," she said and her lovely mouth was beautiful in a tremulous smile.
Brad acknowledged that he was, indeed, a dirty dish rag. "But I had more clothes to shuck off," he defended himself.
He knelt above her, smiling and bent to kiss that wide, warmly smiling mouth. Her hand came up to press at the back of his head and he read in that gesture her willingness and heat. His hand moved slowly down her smooth belly, following its gentle swell to the mass of fine, firmly crinkled hair above her slit.
He pulled up from the kiss to enjoy the sight of her-so packed with life, so much a woman, but still a girl. She closed her eyes, possibly not to distract him, boldly proud that she was a picture that any man would love.
A perfume that was composed of many factors surrounded him-whatever scent she used, dry and outdoorsy, exactly right for her blonde youth; the sensual redolence of clean sweat from armpit and belly; the ripe fragrance of a warm and healthy cunt, slowly opening at the certainty of pleasure; the sweetness of her hot breath.
He moved a knee to rub against the near breast, so full and generous that it lolled down in spite of its firmness. The coral-pink nipple had already begun to harden and pucker. He gently squeezed the other, enjoying its girlish springiness and his left hand, moving down between her thighs, found the opening lips and slipped again into that flowing stream of love-juice. His cock, starting to rise with their first kiss, was now rigid to the bursting point, the deep-red head swollen and slick.
Remembering his daydream of a rich crop of hair descending to surround her asshole, he pushed his hand farther, and to his amazement, found a deep, fine pelt of hair all the way up the crack of her ass, an inch beyond the anus.
Maida moaned gently, made a face and shook her head.
"What's the matter, baby?" he whispered. "Don't you like that?" He probed one finger against the puckered sphincter.
"Ugh, I'm so hairy, down there," she murmured and Brad laughed deeply.
"You silly child," he said, putting his face down to hers, kissing her lightly on the mouth. "I love that. I think that hair-fine, feminine hair, like yours-is crazy with sex!"
She pulled his head down again, this time aiming his lips at her breast and he sucked in as much as his mouth would hold of the smooth, spongy flesh. She moaned and pressed him down harder, wanting the wild pleasure of his pain. He nibbled and sucked with all his force, understanding her desire and under the hand lying against her open cuntlips, he felt a sharp muscular contraction. There were no lines of communication missing between her zones of womanhood and sensuousness.
As her warmth seemed to flow up and surround him, Brad felt a quickening in his entire body. With his head against her chest while his lips kissed and sucked at her nipples, her warm breath brushed against his ear and neck. One of her hands took a gentle grip on his cock, which throbbed a response and she bucked gently to move his head away, so that she could turn and put her lips against its hard stem.
Remembering the vivid reality of his fantasizing the day before and how some amazing form of ESP had brought the actuality of her hairiness into his dream-mind, Brad thought now of the imagined skill with which she had sucked his cock in the daydream. Presenting his cockhead to her mouth, he lay on his side and playfully tugged at her hip, inviting her to roll over to him.
It seemed hardly surprising that she turned, threw one thigh up across his face and rose to crouch above him, her pussy opening above his mouth.
From his seventeenth year, Brad had known the taste and flavor of pussy. From Donnas' on through numerous others in their swinging escapades, he had searched these slick, warm crevices with eager tongue and lips, their savor fully appreciated by his sense of smell as well as his taste buds.
He knew that the experience was as varied as the girls, that brunettes had a stronger flavor-and frequently a greater flow-than their lighter-haired sisters. Some were hairier than others, a fillip to his own tastes. On some, the outer lips were so fat and spongy that, after he had burrowed his mouth to the depths where the little hole flowed its sweetness, they enclosed his cheeks like a huge, wet mouth, warm and clinging. He had loved them all, even on the occasions when the strong aroma and the accumulations of semisolids, so like strong, soft cheese, had almost gagged him at first.
But he had never buried his face in a sweeter, juicer cunt than Maida's.
And, feeling her shudder with delight as he licked fully up to her clitoris on his first long kiss, he knew he had never lapped at one which was more responsive. Passion had made her fat cuntlips spread naturally. He had to open his mouth wide to suck in a mouthful of hair and these curly fibers, located at the mouth of her vagina, were crisp and tasty with the dried excretions from within.
And as she went down toward his crotch, with his cock sucked into her mouth with overpowering warmth, he felt the soft shock on his glands as his rigid pole went all the way in, striking the back of her throat and her swallowing muscles gripped the tender head in a pleasure that shook his senses.
His hands roved freely, squeezing the soft, firm boobs that swung above his belly, smoothing their way back along her flanks and down over the silken warmth of the big buttocks, spread wide above his face, tightened by her position. He pulled her haunches down so that he could lick solidly across her pink asshole, enjoying its strong savor and causing her to moan softly. The vibrations of this choked sound set up a new throb in his distended prick and he dug his thumbs into her ass cheeks in an ecstasy that raised his hips off the carpet, jamming him deeper into Maida's throat.
Her hands were around his thighs and one of her hands squeezed his balls, milking down on the hairy sac which held them, setting up a small pain which added zest to the raging waves of heat that shook him. The other hand traced frantically up and down his inner thigh, down into the crack of his ass, raking back through the thick dark hair on his powerful muscles, gripping spasmodically as the pending orgasm wriggled in her belly.
Whether it was the first convulsive jerk of Brad's cock, jetting a hot load of sperm into her mouth, or his deep suck that drew the walls of her vagina together in aching fury, made no difference to Maida. All she knew or cared about was that the gathering orgasm that trembled deep inside her seemed to burst like a rocket, flooding her with a pleasure that took her out of the world, into a dimension where all her body glowed and flowered in transcendent delight. Her knees spread and moved apart so that her flowing cunt came down on Brad's mouth and she felt her juices come in a rushing flood.
Her mouth relaxed, but maintained a loving grip on his dwindling prick as she slowly heaved her generously molded ass up and away from her young boss' face and she groaningly collapsed on her side, one hand still softly rolling his balls around in their soft pouch. A few drops of his semen had escaped from her busy mouth, leaving a shiny trail down toward her chin. Her breasts, still tingling with love-shock, showed the depth of her orgasm by their hard, out-thrust nipples.
Brad swallowed slowly, letting the hot mouthful of her come-fluids, so fragrantly reminiscent of their source, trickle across his taste buds. His face was thickly smeared with the warmth and wetness from her pussy. He pushed his face again into the hairy softness of her cleft, inhaling the strong, rich perfume of a sated and still warm cunt.
Now that the dull ache of anger had fled in this glorious and unexpected burst of sex, he grinned at the memory of their silent ferocity in coming together. "This is the best lunch I've had in months," he joked, raising his head and turning to survey the happy face of his partner. "No calories, either!"
She held his prick upright, keeping it from lolling over.
"That starch that held this lovely thing up so straight certainly tasted rich to me," she answered. "Too bad I was such a pig!" She seemed disappointed.
Brad turned so that they lay face-to-face and he kissed her deeply, tasting the saline flavor of his semen on her lips.
"You turned a horrible day into a wonderful experience," he said as their locked tongues slipped apart. He kissed her tenderly. "How can someone so young be so wise?"
To his astonishment, her face clouded.
"This wasn't wise, Brad," she whispered. "It may be the dumbest thing I've ever done!"
"You're crazy, Maida," he said. "It was what I needed and somehow, you knew it! I've never known anyone to be so generous, so sweet." He hugged her closely, flattening her warm breasts against him. "I've wanted you so much. But I held off because... well, I couldn't be so obnoxious as to force myself on you, just because I'm... well, you know what I mean."
She kissed him again. "You're like some chivalrous kid, Brad," she said. "You could've had me any time, but because you're my boss, you felt that it would be taking advantage. Right?" She pushed him away so that she could look at him.
The motion pushed their bellies together and he felt the soft warmth of her body against his. Incredibly, there was a stirring in his loins. He placed a hand on her soft, rounded rump, jamming her crotch tighter against him. His arm slipped under hers, so that the tug of skin pulled her breast taut.
"Hey, watch it," she whispered. "You'll get me hot again! I told you you'd better save up for me!"
Brad took her hand and put it on his prick. Already it was fattening, lengthening. The pressure of her hand, warm and soft, brought a throb from it. She laughed in excitement.
"Brad, you really are a man!" she gasped. "But, on the level, hadn't we better save it? I don't want to wear you out!"
He laughed comfortably, proudly. "Baby," he whispered, "with this hard-on, I can fuck for an hour!"
"Brad," Maida said, while they were enjoying the coffee and sandwiches she had brought up from the company cafeteria, "I think you've ruined me!" She pushed a hand against the bottom of her belly. "I actually ache inside. I feel like you've stretched me out of shape!"
Remembering the clutching tightness of her pussy, the way it's wet-muscled sheath had gripped his cock, Brad closed his eyes in an exaggeration of lustful memory. "You were so wonderful, you made me better than I am," he said and more than half-meant it. "Don't get me thinking about that sweet little cunt of yours-we'll be on the floor again!" He took a bite of his ham-and-cheese. "All I wish is that we hadn't waited so long."
Once more, she looked troubled. "I shouldn't have done it, Brad," she said in a low voice.
"Why not, baby?" Brad asked in honest surprise. "I would've had you Saturday, at the party."
"I don't know why I feel the way I do," the girl murmured. And then she flashed, "That's a lie. I do know. And I guess I'll have to tell you!"
She stood up, smoothing her dress down over her belly and hips, the taut fabric showing the warmth of her breasts, the hard protrusion of her nipples. "You can take this any way you want to," she said in a strained voice. "But the reason I kept you off wasn't because I didn't want you-it was because I wanted you too much!" She dropped her head and turned away, but not before Brad saw the gleam of tears on her cheeks.
"Maida," he said, "don't worry about it, baby! It's all right!"
She turned back to him, seeming to be under better control. "Maybe it's not so all right, Brad," she said. "If there was anything I didn't want, it was to fall in love with you. No!" she cried, as he opened his mouth. "Don't feel sorry for me! It's not for any noble reason! It's not because you're married, or my boss, or anything so simple and human!"
Her face worked and her voice sounded scornful. "It's because I'm bitten with the same bug that gets into so many of us here in this damned rat race! I'm so full of ambition, so determined to hang on to what I've got, to pull myself higher, to make more money-I'm just not human anymore!"
She sat down and put her face in her hands, rocking back and forth like a child in deep misery, too deep to cry. Brad got up and went over to put a hand on her shoulder. His voice was low and kind.
"Maida, look at me," he ordered and she showed him a tear-stained face. He bent and kissed her.
"Is it so bad to want to take care of yourself?" he asked softly. "If it is, move over and let me join the club. I'm ambitious; Donna says that it's ruining me. That's what our quarrel was about. To tell you the truth," and he smiled rather shamefacedly, "I wouldn't let you fall in love with me. I'm in the rat race, too. Does that help? That we're two of a kind?"
She clung to him, her face pressed against his crotch. She looked up, smiling without strain. "You rat," she whispered in obvious love. "You've made me feel better already. I suppose you're the only man in Bon-twat who would understand me and not kick me out. You know that I wouldn't care a snap if I broke up your marriage! Even if Derwin wouldn't stand for it. You know that I just wouldn't want Bill to think that I took a fuck all that seriously!"
She laughed wryly and rubbed at her tears with the back of her hand. The move was so childish that Brad was touched. He gave her his handkerchief and kissed her lightly.
"At least," he teased her, "I didn't have to wait until I became a major executive to have executive privileges with you!"
She made as if to slap him, really laughing. "You could have me if you were an office boy!" she exclaimed. "And without fear that I'd be a lovesick drag. And I'm glad we are so much alike. I could never really fall in love with anyone as cold-blooded as I am!"
Her tone had been joking, but Brad wondered as he drove home. It had been more than a good day. It had opened up-or almost opened up-some channels he hadn't remembered in a long time. He loved Donna. That was absolutely true. She was his wife, his possession, in a way. But he tapped a lovely vein of emotion that he had forgotten, years ago. He had found a friend, a woman who fucked like no one he had ever known in his life, who was as beautiful as anyone he had ever seen, who saw through him just as he saw through her and without dismay. A friend! Maybe it was better than love.
He drove faster, alarmed by the thought. Watch it, Brad, he told himself. You don't want to fall in love. So don't get too hooked on the idea of friendship!
In a way, Brad thought, a quarrel can be a pretty good thing, especially if you're young and virile and have a wife as sexually attractive as Donna.
She had met him at the door, warm and soft and sweet-smelling from her shower. There was thick sirloin for dinner and he had laughingly wiped his greasy hands between her legs. As she had on their honeymoon, she chided him and as he had done on that long-ago time, he had said, "Don't worry. I'll lick every hair clean!"
The two rounds he had had with Maida had only taken the edge off his sexual appetite. Donnas' cunt tasted even better to him-at least he thought so now-than Maida's.
She was on top now, her light weight riding easy on his cock, her tight, hot little pussy skinning the head almost painfully each time she slid down it. She had come as he ate her and again as soon as she worked the big head into her tight little vaginal opening. And a couple of times more.
He held his hands on her small boobs, not comparing their childish size with Maida's, any more than he compared the fullness of her tongue with the other girl's.
Her come-juice had pumped out until his entire mat of pubic hair was soaked and a warm trickle of it ran down into the crack of his ass. A delicious feeling!
She pulled her face away from his to look at him lovingly. The bedside lamps were on, because they enjoyed the sight of each other, of each other's genitals. With his head on a big pillow and the room lighted so well, Brad could see a reflection of Donnas' beautiful little ass in the big vanity mirror. . In the darkened valley in the center, he could even see the puckery little spot of pink and brown, her asshole and the highlight gleam of her come-juice on her dark hairs, on his cock as she slowly raised herself.
Donna was content with the fuck-joy she saw in his face. She was ready for another come. She could tell that he was ready, too. She squeezed her cunt muscles on his cock in a calmly delirious fever and he pulled her head down to him.
"I'm a lucky guy, baby!" he whispered. "I've got the prettiest wife in the world. And she just happens to be the best fuck in the world!"
Oddly enough, he believed it.