Chapter 6
After a hot soapy shower to wash the stickiness of Harvey's cum from her tits, Connie felt much better. Although it did little to ease her horniness, the caressing spray made her tingly and clean again, and it cleared away the weight of all the confusing emotions inside her. As the warm soothing water ran down her body and between her toes, Connie brought herself to re-examine the morning's events more rationally, although the memory of Paul and Irene together was still painfully vivid.
Why hadn't she stopped them? Why hadn't she called out to Paul, instead of standing there like an idiot and letting Irene seduce him? And then, when horny old Harve had "just happened to drop by", she almost got seduced, herself! What if she hadn't caught herself in time? Why, right at this very moment he might be sticking that enormous cock of his right up into her poor, tortured cunt!
That thought made Connie itch all over again, and hastily she pushed it from her mind and shut off the shower. As she stepped out and toweled herself dry, she heard the buzz of the lawn mower start up again, and peeked out the curtained bathroom window to see Paul once more dressed and busily cutting grass as if nothing at all had happened.
Dressing in short-shorts and a tight T-shirt that showed the sharp outline of her upright nipples, Connie realized how hungry she was and went down to the kitchen.
Paul had thought of everything. The refrigerator was well-stocked, and she was finishing her second cold ham sandwich when he came in, hot and sweaty and grinning at her in pure, blank innocence.
"Well, well, awake at last! Morning, baby."
He bent and kissed her lightly on the forehead, and a turmoil of emotions swept through Connie at the sweet-sour smell of Irene's reeking pussyjuice mixed with the acrid scent of his sweat. Suddenly, she wanted to clutch him to her, to cry out that she had seen everything. She wanted to admit what Harve had done to her and beg Paul's forgiveness. She wanted him to pull her to the floor and fuck her the way he had fucked Irene, jamming his cock brutally into her little cunt the way he had his neighbor's.
A warm glow of spreading heat flooded Connie's body as she imagined Paul doing to her all those things he had been secretly wanting to do, the things he had done with Irene. But already Paul turned his back to her and stood at the kitchen sink splashing cold water on his face.
"Paul ..." she said in a low husky voice, staring down at the triangle of sweat that soaked through his cut-offs, outlining the crack of his firm, taut, hairy ass. "Paul, Harve dropped Paul looked at her, his face dripping. "Yeah, I just ran into old Harve and returned his lawn mower. I invited him and Irene over tonight, if that's all right with you."
Anger flared in Connie at that, and she burst out, "You invited them over again? Haven't we seen enough of neighbors for a while? I thought this was our honeymoon! Aren't people supposed to have some time alone on their honeymoon?"
Paul winced like a little boy beneath her anger, and his tone instantly grew apologetic: "I'm sorry, hon. I should've thought ... but hell, I felt guilty after the way we acted last night, and I just wanted to make it up to them, show them that we're nice people, too. You know, they've really put themselves out for us."
Especially Irene! she wanted to retort stingingly, but didn't.
She knew why Paul had invited them over-he felt guilty, all right, but not about last night. He felt guilty because of the terrible lusting hunger that had made him fuck Irene's willing body the way he had. He wanted to make up for what he had done to Harve's lover. Paul wanted to soothe his guilt, not knowing that Harve had watched gleefully, not knowing what Harve's fat, ugly cock had done to Connie!
Paul wiped his face dry and came over to stand before her, and his hands dropped to her shoulders. "You don't really mind, do you, hon? I mean, we've got years together, and it's only one evening. I feel like we owe it to them."
"Oh, all right. Just one more evening," Connie relented, melting beneath the hot touch of his wet hands, despite her anger. Paul bent and kissed her again, and suddenly she wrapped her arms about him and clung tight, feeling the itching flow of her creamy cunt. "But that gives us all day, doesn't it?" she whispered, reaching for Paul's cut-offs.
Before he could react, she had jerked his shorts down, exposing his smelly, shriveled prick. Connie caressed it, cupped the weight of his hairy balls in her hand as Paul gave a startled gasp and chuckled: "Well, well, it looks like I should've finished what I started this morning. But really, babe, I'm pretty tired right now. Can't you wait until we get upstairs, and I've had a nice cooling shower first?"
"No, I can't," Connie said sternly, her face hardening with determination. She stood up under Paul's startled gaze and started unbuttoning her shorts. "If you're going to invite people over every night, then I'd just better get what I can while we're alone. And that means right here and now!" Still holding his balls in one hand, she jerked her shorts down and kicked them off.
Paul's gaze fastened on her steamy mound of glistening cunt-fur, and Connie drew herself forward, rubbing her bristling hairs against his limp cock. And despite its fervent workout with Irene, his prick began to harden.
Paul tore his eyes away and guiltily looked around the kitchen as though someone might come in at any moment. "I don't think this is exactly the right place, do you?"
Anger spurred Connie's hunger, and suddenly her cunt drooled even more and her mouth drew into a hard line. He had the utter gall to say that, after fucking another woman right on their lawn!
"Yes," she hissed, guiding his cockhead between her legs and rubbing the length of it against the stretched wet lips of her pussy. "This is exactly the right place, and you're going to fuck me right here, whether you want to or not. Understand?"
"What the hell's got into you?" Paul asked, puzzled. "Look, Connie, I just want to get cleaned up first, that's all. If you can just give me a couple of minutes ..."
"Your time's up, buster!" Connie said, using a commanding tone that clamped Paul's mouth shut in total surprise. His easy submission, his refusal to argue or fight back, made Connie even angrier.
This wasn't the Paul who had so violently made love to Irene, who had literally tortured her and pissed on her, who had laughed as his cock tore and dug into her asshole. This was Connie's Paul, the Paul she had thought she loved-weak and tender and submissive-hardly a man at all! Surging with her own growing rage and the fresh memory of that other Paul, she suddenly wanted to arouse him, to make him treat her the way he had Irene. She wanted to draw out that hidden part of him, make him dominate her and use her and possess her the way he had his neighbor.
She wanted to bring that other Paul alive!
"You're going to do just what I say," she ordered, shivering with horny anger. "And if I say I want it right now, then you give!"
Paul just stared, stunned.
Overcome by fury and his lack of reaction, Connie ran her fingers through his dark wavy hair, grasped handfuls of it and abruptly pulled his head down in a burst of horny strength.
"Hey!" Paul resisted momentarily as his head was forced down across her body. His knees bent. "That hurts!"
Connie smiled maliciously as that hint of the other Paul showed through. "Suck me, lover! See how you make me cream? Lick it all up, or Momma will have to hurt you some more!" And with that, she pushed his head down roughly until Paul's face rubbed her wet-tinged cunt hair.
At first, Paul pulled back, amazed at her behavior. Then the sweet scent of her pussy captivated him, and he grinned. "Sure, babe. Whatever Momma wants."
His refusal to resist sent a dull wave of disappointment through Connie. But then his tongue shot between her thighs, lapping at the juices that dribbled down them, and a shudder of delight coursed over her.
"That's it," she murmured, guiding Paul's head with small jerking movements that made him groan with pain. "Lick it all up like a nice boy! Now lick my cunt . . . slide your sweet tongue over my pussylips . . . ahh, yesss!"
Paul's tongue dipped between the lips of her cunt, and Connie pushed her hips hard against his face until he could hardly breathe.
"Now stick that wonderful tongue up into my pit, make it fat and hard and wet . . . oh, oh, yes, yes!"
Her legs parted wide as he followed orders and darted his tongue into her hole, shooting sparks of pleasure all through her. In the midst of this tremendous gushing sensation, Connie remembered what she really wanted and gave Paul's head another violent jerk.
He moaned at the pain, but he didn't fight back. His eager tongue slid in and out of her oozing cunt, making Connie writhe, pushing her hooded clit roughly against his face in spasms of hot delight.
"Oh, jam your beautiful tongue into me! Make me come . . .yes, yesss!" Connie heaved against Paul's face as he carried out her command, cramming his tongue, fat and slick, into her cunt as her hard little clit rubbed his face and sent her into a jolting climax. "I'm coming! Oh, baby, make me come harder harder! Oh, fuck, you're making me come!"
Her hips were grinding wildly, tearing at Paul's lips as cunt-cream gushed out onto his face and trickled down his chin. He greedily licked up the flood of delicious cream that poured from her twitching cunt, then looked up at her with a big wet grin.
"Enjoying yourself, babe?"
Sudden blazing fury overwhelmed Connie. He was actually enjoying the way she treated him! Now her anger leaped forth, mixed with waves of hot pleasure.
"You're not finished yet," she said haughtily, giving Paul's hair a sharp twist that made him blink in pain. She pushed him back on the cool linoleum floor and crouched down over his face, still clutching his hair. "Now the back door, lover. I want to feel that wonderful tongue sliding up my ass like a big prick. Now be a good boy, and do what Momma tells you!"
Paul obeyed her hungrily. His tongue flicked out, caressed the puckered ring of her shithole and slowly eased in.
Connie gasped, and her ass-muscles gripped his big soft tongue as it forced its way up into her and licked up the moist walls of her ass. She gyrated her hips as Paul's tongue slid in and out like a big soft cock, making her cuntal juices stream down his face. She heaved against his mouth and heard Paul's muffled gasp as her thighs crushed his head, shutting off his breath. His tongue was crammed deep into her asshole, and Connie cried out, hunching his face and once again coming in a sweet acrid torrent of cream. She pulled wildly at Paul's hair, mashing his face to her sopping cunt as she came again and again, sobbing for breath.
Vaguely Connie remembered her angry resolution to release the hidden side of Paul, and vaguely a new idea arose even as she surged in the throes of climax. It was time to take a page from Paul's own book and see if she could draw him out.
"I'm coming!" she cried out, not having to pretend. "Oohh, you're making me come so hard I can't stop. I . . . unnn . . . I'm going to piss! I can't help it . . . I'm pissing!"
And with that, she released the contents of her bladder on Paul's face. Steamy yellow piss flooded his mouth and nose and streamed down his face, and still his tongue dug into her slick ass, faster and harder than before. She was pissing all over him- and he liked it!
Connie didn't have time to be shocked. The sudden surge of piss down her grinding thighs, and Paul's increased vigor, made her forget all about her resolution as he lapped up piss and pussyjuice and jabbed again and again into her asshole.
She found herself stroking his hair and whimpering, "Good, baby . . . sweet, sweet baby."
He licked and sucked her cuntjuice. Connie couldn't help herself. Her trembling thighs slid urgently down from Paul's wet grinning face and hovered above his hardened cock, then she shoved violently down on it, stretching the tight lips of her pussy and filling her with his throbbing cock. Paul arched until her soft-furred split cuntlips rubbed his curling cockhair. She bounced up and down wildly, in complete abandon.
"Oh, fuck me!" she cried, gasping. "Fuck me, make it hurt! Oh, Paul, ram it into me until I scream! Fuck me . . . piss on me . . . bite my titties until they bleed! Oh, Paul, screw me until I can't stand it! Paullll!"
Her quivering cunt came down on his thrusting prick in a surging burst of oblivion, and Paul groaned as his sticky white load shot into her cunt in huge hot spurts, making Connie's head swim.
She gave a small scream and collapsed on him in a writhing heap, sobbing in ecstasy as her cunt soaked up his cum, draining him completely. Her inflamed cuntlips sucked the last goodness of his jism, and Paul's arms encircled her in a gentle loving embrace, their bodies twitching through the last dregs of orgasm.
He stroked her hair lightly, and he whispered, "Oh, shit, Connie, I didn't know you could be like that. That's my girl, my sweet precious little girl, my baby."
His words suddenly brought back to her the image of Irene, making Connie blush with anger. She heaved herself up and looked down at his tender expression, overcome with anger.
"I'm not a baby!" she blurted, letting the words come spilling out. "And what about Irene? Is she your baby, too? You certainly didn't treat her like one out on our lawn this morning, did you?"
"Connie ..." Paul's lips worked as he stared up at her with a stunned, guilty expression. "Connie, I . . . "
Connie felt the tears spring to her eyes, and her body shivered with renewed fury. "You certainly didn't treat her like a baby when you fucked her, did you? Or when you pissed on her and made her lick your cock clean, or when you fucked her in the ass and made her scream! Were you thinking of her as a baby then?"
Paul looked hurt and confused, his face reddening with guilt. "Honey . . . Connie, I swear . . .
I didn't mean ... it was just that ..."
"You didn't mean?" Connie sobbed out; her lips twisted with bitter sarcasm. "You didn't mean to fuck another woman, to do all the things you wouldn't dare do to me? You . . . oh, you bastard!"
And without even expecting it, Connie hauled back her hand and slapped Paul's face. Then, before he could stop her, she leaped up, causing his soft wet prick to make a slurping sound as it slid from her cunt, and raced, sobbing, up the stairs to her bedroom.
She slammed the door and locked it, then fell on the bed and began to cry as Paul's jism leaked from her cunt and onto the crisp sheets.
He knocked at the door, tried to open it, and knocked again. "Connie?" His voice was abject, sorrowful. "Connie, I . . . I'm sorry. I know that sounds lame, but you've got to understand, I didn't mean for it to happen, and neither did Irene. It was just . . . oh, God, honey, I wouldn't hurt you for anything!"
Jealous and hurt, Connie spent the rest of the day moping about in her new empty home while Paul, too ashamed and embarrassed to face her, puttered around in the yard. He didn't come in until night was falling, and the two of them ate supper in silence, neither strong enough to break the wall that had grown between them.
Finally, Connie finished her meal and forced herself to speak. "What time will they be here?"
Paul glanced at his watch and darted a look up, not quite meeting her gaze. "I told them to stop by at eight. About a half-hour."
"Then I'd better get these dishes done and clean up." She reached for the plates, but Paul was quicker.
"You go ahead," he said, eager to do some little thing that might melt the icy wall of his guilt. "I'll tend to the dishes."
Wordlessly, Connie turned and went upstairs, where she showered and donned a pair of white slacks and a sheer blouse, not bothering with underwear. She sprayed herself lightly with perfume, then stood before the bathroom mirror for one last critical self-examination. As she stared at her own petite reflection, her eyes began to burn in pent-up emotion. This had been the loneliest, most miserable day of her life. Not even the empty innocence of her past could compare with the hurt and yearning Paul had made her suffer. She had never known that she could ache so much, and all because of him.
If only it had been her instead of Irene this morning, if only Paul had let himself go with his own wife . . . Connie wiped quickly at the tears that threatened to brim over. The bastard! If only she could make him realize, understand that she was a woman, too, and not just the innocent bride he considered her ... If there were only some way to make him realize that she was a woman-and a horny woman at that-a young, strong woman with needs of her own ... If there was just something she could do to prove that she didn't want to be innocent ...
Thoughtfully, soothed by a possible solution to her problem, Connie ran her hands down her tits, feeling the stiffened pebbles of her nipples in a growing warmth that spread through her belly. He wanted to really let himself go, did he? Well, two could play at that game! Maybe it was just about time Paul Baker paid for his extramarital fun!
She heard a knock on the front door, the voices of Harve and Irene, and Paul's call to her up the stairs: "Honey, our guests are here!"
Pleased at her new frame of mind, Connie caught herself actually smiling in anticipation. "That's right, you bastard," she whispered vengefully to herself, "you're going to pay, all right!"
Warmed by this notion, eagerly, almost lightly, she bounced down the stairs to greet her guests.