Chapter 4
By the time Mabel had beautified her bloated features as best she could, Harry was fast asleep. Her dramatic, scented entrance into the master bedroom was wasted on her mate, whose snoring echoed off the wallpaper walls.
Far from being put off by his somnolence, for it was par for the course, she silently shut the door and stole toward the bed. On the way she caught sight of a numbered painting of Jesus and hoped the good Lord would help her get laid. After all, it was Harry's duty to hump her, it really was.
She pulled back the covers just as Harry broke wind. Damn him anyway, she cursed, retreating to less smelly regions where she studied the situation. After opening the window and spraying the room with a strawberry smell, she replayed the scene. Take two proved far more successful, for Harry had, in the interim, rolled over onto his back. She was glad for this, as he was hell to move when he was out. The problem now was rousing him to a state of cognizance. Otherwise all her efforts would be for naught instead of naughty. She giggled like an adolescent girl as she touched his hairy, heaving chest and began to massage the massive muscles lurking beneath a, as Harry put it, protective layer of fat.
He moaned, then rolled over so his back was to her. Why does he have to be so obstinate? fumed Mabel, wondering what to do. All the time she'd spent anticipating a revival of their marital relations had resulted in acute sexual arousal on her part, and she wasn't about to be put off by Harry's usual recalcitrance. Gritting her teeth in a show of determination, she grabbed his shoulder with her bowling grip and rolled him back onto his back. "Now stay there, hear?" she said insistently to his uncomprehending head. He tried it once again, perhaps out of reflex, and got his arms pinioned against the mattress. Mabel wasn't fooling around in her effort to get fucked, she meant business as Harry would soon discover.
Moving her muff into position astride the lump in his skivvies, she commenced to cover his hairy sleeping body with hot enticing kisses that made his alcohol addled body believe it was being attacked by bedbugs. He began squirming accordingly, even laughing when she licked his waxy earlobe.
"Will you please hold still?" she ordered, thumb pressed firmly against his Adam's apple. Unable to do anything else, he did as told. Once she had her sugar daddy docile again, Mabel pressed her painted lips to his just as he belched. She backed off, unable to believe his boorishness. Even for Harry he was awful. To bolster her courage for amatory combat with her sot spouse, she walked over to the cabinet where he stashed a fifth of cheap bourbon. She took an extended swig, then shook her head from its strong taste. Why couldn't Harry buy something good for a change? It's no wonder he's the way he is if he drinks this rotgut. She put down the bottle and went back to bed.
This time Harry was half awake. Apparently her earlier assaults were not without effect, for his jockey shorts were considerably lumpier. "You do want me!" she exclaimed, feeling his tumescence. "Oh, goody goody goody!" She covered his face, neck and shoulders with a shower of appreciative kisses.
Alarmed by the amorous attack, Harry awoke with a start. Sitting bolt upright in bed, he knocked Mabel off it. Not seeing the person responsible for his discomfiture, he wondered if he weren't going through delirium tremors again. I really must cut down on my consumption, he thought as Mabel's painted face reared its frowzy head. Her makeup was circa 1950 and rekindled many memories. He was a kid again, just barking on life instead of enduring it. Seeing Mabel as the stacked girl she used to be, he held out his strong, hairy arms and addressed her as "Light of my love, fire of my loins, come to me!" and helped her back in bed.
Surprised by his aid and change of heart, Mabel hopped rabbit-like to his side and began behaving like an adolescent girl in heat. Harry reacted accordingly, for in the dark he couldn't see her wrinkles and the aroma of cheap perfume was intoxicating to his nostrils. Who says you can't relive your youth? he thought while cupping her whale-like breasts. They're even bigger than I remembered! Peeling back the nightie as though it were a banana, he pressed his whiskery lips to her snowy heaving bosoms, the nipples of which rose to the occasion.
"Oh, Harry!" she gushed, running her fat fingers through his thinning hair, "That feels sooo good, please don't stop!" And he didn't. For the first time in years, he actually wanted to hump his wife. Not since that eventful night in the Ford when he'd forced his stiff prick past her maidenhead had he attacked her with such ardor. He just hoped he could contain himself until the right moment, such was his excitement.
Rubbing his nose between her big bosoms, Harry savored their perfumed softness. Maybe Mabel wasn't as firm as she used to be, but she sure was comfy. Like a leather chair that had formed itself to his features, she seemed made for his prick. He recalled with pleasure how good it felt to delve in her gooey warmth. Not unlike his old Buick, she was built for comfort, not speed.
Mabel couldn't believe her mate's behavior, but she wasn't about to stop it either. Harry hadn't acted like this since high school, nor for that matter had she, and it sure felt good to relive past pleasures. She lay back and groaned agreeingly as he kissed his way down her scented torso. Sure am glad I got me that perfume, she sighed, feeling his tongue describe her navel.
"You're too much, Harry baby, you really are!" She undulated her crotch to show him where to go, and he did. Finding the fringe of her panties, he playfully tugged on them with his teeth, then tore them off with a single savage pull over her stout posteriors. Her huge bush lay bare and beckoning. As he removed the panties from her toes, he studied the huge hairy puff spread before him, feeling like an explorer about to enter a jungle. What mysteries lay inside that scented muff, what magnificent unspeakable pleasures?
Starting with her ankles, he kissed his way up her phocine flesh with considerable ardor. The further upward he got, the wider apart he pried her marshmallow thighs. Upon reaching the wellspring of her menapausal desire, he paused momentarily to catch his breath, then buried his balding head in her hairy cunt.
He's going to do it! she exclaimed. He's going to eat my box! Will wonders never cease? This has got to be the greatest night of my marriage, because any husband can be hot on his honeymoon, but fifteen years later, that's something!
Her huge slit was hot, wet and salty to the taste. Harry lapped her loins like a thirsty hound, sucking in her slime as though it were Hamm's. She tasted that good, even better than she did at sixteen. For like fine wines, she had improved with age. Not that Mabel was to be compared with fine wines, but she was, at least tonight, all female, just as he was all male. Wallowing in their respective sexual roles, they played their parts with considerable enthusiasm. She wrapped her fleshy legs around his thick neck as he nuzzled her suppurating slit in the naughtiest way possible.
"Oh, you don't know what that does to me!" she giggled, grabbing hold of his sparse hair and giving it a yank. Somehow the pain spurred his efforts, for he ate her pussy all the harder. Swallowing slime, hair and pieces of spent Kotex, he gave his all to satisfy her mounting sexual appetite, definitely getting in his licks for a change.
Mabel moaned for more, and got it. Her buttery hips began moving in unison with his tongue, turning her on more than she believed possible. Caught up in the spirit of carnality, Harry licked her crack with such enthusiasm it began to snap back. To conquer her mighty cunt took more than a mere tongue lashing, it took a bull neck like his to keep constant the pressure on her snapping pussy. Naturally, the heavy thighs resting on his nape helped, as did the moist suction of her snatch. Pulled toward her pink labia by a force at least equal to that exerted by a plumber's helper, his lips became locked tight against her twat. Once this happened, her orgasm was imminent. Sweet, hot tremors raced through her privates as his stiffened tongue sank deep into her dewy slit.
"Oh, Harry, I don't know if I can stand anymore, it feels so good! Pleeease don't stop, pleeeease!" Soon her words gave way to moans and then shrieks as Harry held on for dear life. To keep from being suffocated by slime, he bit her cunt lip hard and this brought her over the brink into total unspeakable bliss. Wave after delicious wave wracked her huge orifice, hitting him in the face with the force of a football tackle. His ears were pressed flat against his skull by squeezing sweaty thighs as her body gave way to female climax.
"Oh, I never cummed so good in my life!" she screamed, cumming again when his pinched neck jerked spasmodically, triggering her twat. It was at this alarming moment that Harry became cognizant. Where in hell am I? he wondered, his eyes blinded by her box. Fearful of her flapping female parts, he suddenly became stir crazy and tried to free himself from her furry grasp. But struggle as he may, her muff was mightier. When Mabel wanted more muffing, she got it, period. Not until her nineteenth gooey climax did she relax her grip on his neck, and by then he was too tired to care. When she unlocked her thighs he just lay there, passed out against her pussy from the exertion.
"My poor baby," she sighed, patting his shiny head. Mabel then pried his lips off her slit and rolled him over on his back. Seeing he was glassy-eyed, she pondered mouth to mouth resuscitation, but decided against it. Instead she went to the bathroom and returned with a cold washcloth, which she used to wipe off his lust-sullied lips and face. Almost immediately he was coughing, then asking for more. She gave it to him, so insistent was his tone. After what he's just been through, he probably needs a snort.
Harry shook his head, attempting to clear it. He looked at Mabel, whose makeup had run, and had another drink. Still the funny taste stayed in his mouth. What have I done? Was I that drunk?
Wiggling her tangled pubic growth suggestively, Mabel moaned in an appreciative way and said, "You were fantastic, lover. Why don't you lick my snatch more often?"
"I-I did that?" he gasped, then gulped down a copious amount of cheap bourbon.
"You better believe you did, baby, and you did it just fine." She pursed her lips invitingly, then added, "And now I'm going to do the same for you, sugar."
Pushing her away from his prick, he told her to wait until he caught his breath.
"Anything you say, hubbie." Her soft, fat hand strayed downward to his crotch, where her fingertips fondled his hairy balls.
"Don't do that, it tickles!"
"I could always squeeze 'em." Her sweaty hand closed around the scrotal sac, imprisoning his testicles in her palm.
"N-No!" he "yelped, fearing for his manhood. Mabel's bowling grip was better than his, he suddenly recalled.
"I was only kidding." She let go of his balls and began softly stroking the underside of his cock, which had started to sag during their conversation. In a trice it was bobbing upward until it became bright red and rigid.
Mabel beamed at its meaty magnificence. "My, oh my, it looks good enough to eat," she said, licking her chops over his crimson drumstick. But when she pressed her painted lips to its surface, he grabbed her hair and pulled her off his prick.
"What'samadder, lover, don't you want me to eat you? I never heard of a man turning down a blowjob, why you?" Her pursed lips took on an adolescent pout.
"Did you brush your teeth?" he asked, having another nip of bourbon.
"Yup, even washed out my mouth with Listerine."
"Okay, then I guess you won't give me nothing." He let her head drop back onto his dick, then told her to get going. As her hot slavish mouth enveloped his cock-tip, he lay back against a propped up pillow and watched with approval the wanton sight of her sucking him off. At an earlier date, it had been his recurring wet dream to have Mabel go down on him. Even after he'd deflowered her she still refused this favor. When words failed, he resorted to force and she had retaliated by biting. It was only when he made eyes at a cute cheerleader that she had, as she put it, "degraded herself by doing such a perverted thing." But she had done it. After a while she had even grown to enjoy it, until he came in her mouth and she got sick. Once that happened, she refused, she refused any more such favors, especially after Cissy was born. Blowjobs were all right before one was married, she'd argued, but obscene afterward. No matter how much Harry had begged her to blow him, she had adamently refused. Pointing to Cissy sleeping in her crib, she would say, "Imagine how it would warp her young mind to see her mother doing such a thing?" And Harry had felt so ashamed he didn't ask for another for six months. Once or twice over the ensuing years she had deigned to lick his dick, but only for birthdays or because she was drunk. He wondered if she were drunk tonight, as he'd smelled bourbon on her breath, but that wasn't unusual. Mabel always had something alcoholic on her breath.
Gripping his cock firmly between her fingertips, Mabel imprinted a long hot kiss on his foreskin that had him gasping. She could feel his penis swell beneath her lips. To heighten the sensual effect, she softly toyed with his testicles and encircled the underside of his glans with her gooey tongue. Under such salacious treatment he became so big she could barely fit him in her mouth, but like her cunt, it too stretched to accommodate his swelling manhood.
Harry couldn't believe Mabel could give him such a great blowjob, but here she was, the mother of his child, doing to him what he loved her to do. If only she had done it more often over the years, they might have got along better. He had an inkling that their relations henceforth would be more amicable, if tonight was an example of what was coming. Speaking of that, he could feel semen surging up his shaft. He half wanted to tell her, but didn't want to spoil the surprise. Let's see how serious she is about sucking me off, he mused while burying himself into his balls in her mouth.
Nearly gagging on his enormity, Mabel began to turn blue as she blew him but knew it wouldn't be much longer. He always got big before he came, but never this big. Of course it had been a long time since she'd sucked his cock, and it might have grown as had his beer gut. To speed his climax, she squeezed his balls until they disappeared upward in his dick proper. Then she knew he was close and increased the luscious lingual pressure on his foreskin.
A few pearly drops signalled that sexual release was near, and she softly sunk her teeth into his foreskin to force the issue, and force it she did. Hot thick spurts of semen filled her mouth in an explosion of lust as Harry lay back against the pillow and gasped. Oh but it felt good, so good to cum in Mabel's warm, wet mouth. Harry felt better than he'd felt in years as she sucked even the final few dregs from his dick.
"I didn't know you had it in you, Mabel."
"I sure as hell did!" She spat out a mouthful of semen to show what she meant, then went to the bathroom to rinse out the rest.
Watching her naked form scurry away, he saw that in spite of her being overweight, Mabel was still quite a woman. Any female that could give him a fellatio like he'd just got was worth keeping around, even if she did bitch a lot. What's more, he decided to tell her so.
"That was sure some blowjob you gave me, Mabel, the best I ever had."
"Sorry, didn't hear you," she answered from the sink, "The water was running." She took another gulp of Listerine, then another, but still the cum taste remained. Maybe the bourbon will help, she thought, returning to the scene of the unnatural act.
"Wanna drink?" he asked, holding the bottle. "Sure do. After that, I need one." Harry looked hurt. "You mean you didn't like it?"
"Yeah, but next time I might make you wear a rubber." She took an extended gulp of rotgut and felt better. Compared to cum, this stuff's Chevas Regal, she mused, having some more.
"You mean there will be a next time, that this wasn't a fluke?" Harry's face brightened as he eagerly awaited her reply.
"Whaddaya mean, fluke? Was I that bad? What are you, an ingrate?"
"No, no, Mabel, you misunderstand me, I loved it, honest!"
"I thought so." She smiled and drops of semen dripped from the sides of her mouth. Harry was both repulsed and aroused at the sight as was she. Wiping off her lips with a Kleenex, she commented, "Forgot how messy blowjobs are." She put down the soiled tissue and saw Harry's smile. "But I guess if it makes you happy it's worth the trouble." She wiped off her lips again for good measure, then lay down beside her happy husband.
"Sure do appreciate your doing that for me, Mabel, and without my even asking for it. Why, you haven't done that in years. What changed your mind so sudden, if I may be so bold as to ask?" Needless to say, he had a big shit-eating grin on his face.
"Cissy," she replied deadpan, blowing his mind more than the blowjob had. "Come again?"
"If you want me to." She lay back and wriggled her snatch suggestively.
"I don't mean that way, stupid, I mean how did Cissy, of all people, change your mind? She used to be the one whose very presence stopped you, remember?"
"How could I forget? She didn't exactly tell me to do what I done, you know...." She blushed deeply.
"Sucked my cock. You don't have to be ashamed of it, Mabel, this is an enlightened age. Such things are perfectly acceptable between consenting adults, especially if they're married to one another."
"Quit trying to sound like a sex manual, okay? Even if it was wrong, you'd want me to do it, right?"
"YES!" He smiled evilly, making her laugh.
"Now you're acting like the Harry I had to marry. You know what I liked better than your football bod and big prick, do you?" She rubbed his hairy paunch in a circular fashion, then looked him straight in the face.
"My sensational stroke?"
"Not hardly, you were pretty bad in that back seat."
"But I got better later, didn't I?"
"Much later."
"You mean you weren't impressed by my lovemaking?"
"What had I to compare it with? You were my first and only lover."
"I thought so, it's pretty hard to fake a maidenhead, although I read in Playboy somewhere that they do in Japan."
"Will you please quit trying to sound sophisticated when you're not, Harry Putz? For chrissakes, you're a drain cleaner for Roto Rooter, not a college perfesser."
"That doesn't mean I'm incapable of improving my mind," he replied smugly, looking toward the numbered painting on the wall he'd done in his spare time.
"Just don't pretend you're sumpin' you're not, okay, 'cause I don't like you when you're like that, nor does anyone else."
"And just when do you like me?"
"When you're you, plain ole Harry Putz who's fun to be around, the guy who makes you laugh."
"You find me a joke, do you?" He crossed his arms in front of him, his lips formed in a little boy pout.
"No I don't. Honest, Harry, I never knew you was so thin skinned."
"I'm not, it's just that I don't like to be considered a joke by my wife."
"Now where did you get that idea?"
"You said you didn't like me for my lovemaking ability, or for my smarts, but because I make you laugh." He looked like he was about to burst into tears.
"And what's wrong with that? I think it's great you got a sense of humor. Why else do you think I stuck with you all these years? You ain't the easiest guy to live with, you know."
"So now I've got a rotten personality, too. Chrissakes, Mabel, you sure know how to cut a guy down after building him up. That blowjob made me feel like a million bucks, but then you gotta make fun of me. I know I got my faults, but nobody's perfect."
"Are we on different wave lengths, because I'm sure not getting through that thick skull of yours." She shook her head in exasperation.
Not wanting to pursue the argument further, Harry lapsed into silence, refusing to say another word. Seeing him thus, Mabel resorted to nonverbal communication. Where words failed her, body language won the night. She nuzzled up next to him, murmuring sweet nothings in his ear as her right hand played with His prick. Before he could shrug her off, his rod had started to rise. Once that happened the differences between them vanished, except for that one little difference that mattered.