Chapter 9
June was sitting at the kitchen table, still wearing her bathrobe-though it was nearly noon-and sipping, almost gulping down, her third martini of the morning.
She wasn't usually a morning drinker, by any means. However, James had really given her such a fright, such a shock, that she felt she had to have something in her system to get her through the rest of the day.
She shook her head, sipping her drink. She still couldn't understand how it had happened. Last night, James had been the best of lovers, better than he'd ever been for years, really fucking her where it counted. She had assumed that the switching was really working for him, that fucking Cindy was making him feel young and virile again, and that this feeling was also spilling over to her when he fucked her. How utterly wrong she had been! When, after a fast morning fuck before he went off to work, he'd told her that he wanted a divorce-She had almost shit her panties. That wasn't the way she had planned it; no, not at all. The switching was supposed to get her Tom as a lover and keep her James as a husband. The best of both worlds-fucked by the former, supported by the latter.
But, it wasn't working out that way, was it? So she had told herself.
James had said, "I've made up my mind, and if you try to fight it, I'll just collect evidence about you and Tom that'll make plenty of scandal for you, so you'd better get used to the idea."
Just like that.
He hadn't set any time limit, telling her they could all discuss that later. When she had replied, "What if I bring divorce action against you? Wouldn't that affect your job, your social standing, in the community? It would embarrass you much more than me," he had countered swiftly, moving toward her at the same time, with, "If you do that, and I lose my job, who's to pay you off or give you some money to live on? Will your boy friend Tom support you as I've done? You just think about that." She was.
Thinking about that.
The more she thought about it, the less she liked it.
The whole switching operation had been her idea, and now it was backfiring, right in her face.
She took another sip of her drink.
She wasn't exactly high, but she was feeling the gin and vermouth sluice through her bloodstream, and it wasn't helping her to feel good, either. What she needed was a good, passionate fuck-and, from who else but Tom?
The situation was this; somehow, someway, she had to manipulate Tom into helping her out, into getting this divorce thing out of James' head. There had to be a way-there must be a way-Tom was young and bright, he might think of something-together, she and Tom were bound to come up with something-She could feel her clit quivering as she thought of Tom's young, curly-haired face and his long, lean cock. Oh, did she want him-did she need him-right now-
She finished her drink, and, reaching for the extension phone, dialed a number.
The receptionist at Tom's place of employment answered, and soon switched her call in to Tom.
"Hello?"
She felt reassured immediately, the second she heard his commanding, masculine voice coming over the phone.
"Hello, Tom, this is June."
Silence for a few seconds.
Then, he said, trying hard to keep the irritation out of his voice, "I don't want you calling me at work, and you know why. Now, let me call you back on my lunch hour, I've got to hang up now-"
"Please!" she almost shrieked into his eardrums. "Please, Tom-I've got to see you-how soon can you come over here-"
"I'll call you later, good-bye!"
He hung up.
She signed; nothing she could do but wait.
She made herself a sandwich, and, since there was some ice cream left in the refrigerator-maple nut flavor-she ate a dish of that. She drank some cold milk to get the taste of booze out of her mouth, and to ease the feeling of the alcohol in her system.
Then, she took off her bathrobe, and changed to a purple peignoir that was really sheer, not to mention the sexiest garment she possessed. She put on some classical, romantic music on the stereo, and lay down on the couch to rest.
Feeling still somewhat erotic, she began to play around with her tits and clit, fondling her nipples and touching her clitoris until she had almost worked herself into a state of fucking herself. She was tempted to finger-fuck herself, at least to give her some fast sexual feelings for the moment, when she heard the phone ringing.
She got hold of it on the fourth ring. "Hello?"
"This is Tom. Are you alone."
"Well, of course I'm alone-James is at work-and I've already sent the milkman on his way-"
"Hey, June, I don't feel like jokes all of a sudden, you sounded pretty worried about something before. Now, I haven't eaten yet, I wanted to call you right away, because you said it was so fucking important-" He paused, adding, "Can't it wait until tonight?"
"No-Tom-please come over-please come to me-now-I need you-right now-"
There was a long silence on his end of the phone.
"Tom-are you still there-Tom."
"Easy on my eardrums."
"I'm sorry-but, please, Tom-I need you now-"
Another few seconds of silence, until he replied, "I'll be right over, but I can't stay long. Have your story ready, I don't want to waste my time. Good-bye."
As he rang off, she had a thought, an idea that went back to the first time she fucked him. She began to smile, thinking: I'll make him a vodka malted-I'll get him high-like I did before-then he'll do what I want-like he did before-
She did just that, using some of the maple nut ice cream, which had such a strong flavor that even she could hardly detect the vast amount of vodka she put into it. Sue made two-one for each-and put them in the freezing compartment of the refrigerator.
He was there within a quarter of an hour.
When she answered the door, he practically ran inside the house, keeping his head down and concealed in a corner of his suit jacket. He said, after she had closed the door, "I don't think anybody saw me, so we're safe. But I can't stay for very long, I've got to get back to work-"
"I understand that, Tom," she said, as politely and as understanding as possible. "Here, sit down, and I'll get you a drink."
Before he could object, she was in the kitchen, taking the vodka malted out of the refrigerator. She brought the two of them into the living room and placed them on the coffee table. He was sitting in a lounge chair near the sofa, and she sprawled herself on the sofa, making sure that her purple peignoir was revealing as much of her to his eyes as possible.
He took a tentative sip of his drink.
He smiled, and gulped down a good dollop of the stuff, as he said, "Hey-maple nut-one of my favorite flavors-"
"I thought you'd like it, Tom."
"Did you put much vodka in this stuff?"
"Just a taste, Tom-you can tell that, can't you?"
In truth, the malted was now slightly frozen from being kept in the freezing compartment, so that he could only detect a small amount of the total vodka expenditure. He felt only a touch of the booze going into his system, as he slurped away happily at the malt, while she merely sipped hers, slowly and easily.
"Now, Tom, we have a problem, and I'll make it short and sweet." She stopped, almost laughing, as she caught the significance of her own unrealized joke. "Well, maybe not so sweet, but sufficiently short-"
"That's a beautiful negligee, in case I haven't mentioned it before," he said, eyeing her boobs threatening to break loose from their folds.
"Thank you, Tom. I bought it especially for you, you know."
"I don't know, but I still like it. It's too tempting, though, I've got to get back to work pretty soon-"
He stopped in mid-sentence, because he could feel his prick responding to her sexuality. He could feel his instrument becoming harder. He struggled to keep a straight face; he crossed his legs, and sipped some more of his malted. He could feel the vodka going into him, but somehow it didn't seem all that strong or that there was all that much of it in the malted.
'Tom, James is in some strange sort of mood, , he's definitely upset by our situation-"
"What bout his situation?" Tom interjected, a trifle angrily, thinking of Cindy fucking James, which fact had never excited him then and did so even less now.
'That's not the point," she continued. 'The point is that James has become so aggravated by our arrangement that he's threatened to divorce me-
"Divorce?" Tom appeared stunned. He reached for his malted-it was about half-empty now-and took a generous gulp. "After all the years you've been married? What is it, ten or fifteen-"
"Twenty," she corrected him. 'Twenty years of a happy marriage, and he wants to throw the whole thing over. But, listen to this-" She got up from the sofa, her negligee flowing like a queen's train, and, standing next to him, her breasts almost at the level of his mouth, she whispered into his ear, "-he also wants to marry your girl friend Cindy."
"What?"
Tom almost dropped his malted in his lap. As it was, he did spill a few drops on his shirt and tie. He didn't mind that, though it would look sloppy at work for the rest of the afternoon. What had got to him was the fact that sweet little, sexy little Cindy had not said one fucking word of this to him-not one fucking word-
"Not one fucking word-she didn't say one fucking word-to me-"
He seemed in a daze, and he started mumbling incoherently. He gulped down some more of his malted, leaving only about an inch left in the glass. He really dug Cindy; and, for a moment, he wondered if June herself was to blame for this hideous thing that was now happening to him.
"June-this is all your fault-from the time you first fucked me-by slipping me-one of these fucking malted milks-"
Angrily, he pitched his glass across the room.
It smashed against the wall, the remainder of the malted dribbling down the wall. June gave him a stern, disapproving glance, but she said nothing.
She looked at his eyes, and she saw that the vodka was getting to him, as she had expected it to. She could feel a strange tingling along her skin; she could feel her clit and her nipples becoming taut and hard. Her cunt began to churn in expectation of releasing its delicious juice; she realized that Tom was indeed a very attractive young man, especially when he was angry, as he was now.
"Shit-I've got one old lady-she's not so fucking old, either-like you-and you had to get me fucking around-with you-with this switching scene-so now your old man-is fucking both of us-"
Tom stood up, but he was staggering a bit, and he was starting to sway. He pointed an accusing finger at June, and almost pitched forward on his face. He tried to straighten himself up; not quite making it, he slumped back into the chair again, and buried his face in his hands. He started to cry.
"Tom, don't be a crybaby. Be a man about this. Listen to me, I have a plan, I've thought of an idea that will work things out for both of us."
Not really.
That is, she had not yet; but, figuring it was as good a way to get Tom's attention as anything else at this time, she laid it on him.
He raised his head, peeping his eyes through his fingers. He mumbled, "What-kind of plan-tell me-let's get the fucking thing-in gear-"
She said, slowly, turning on every ounce of sex appeal she could and putting it right into every inflection of her voice, "I will, Tom-I'll tell you-but first, you should go to bed-you're very tired-let June lead you-to bed-"
"Fuck going to bed-got to get-back to work-"
"Just a short nap, Tom-sleep for half an hour or so-then I'll get you-back to work-"
She reached over, and patted him on the crotch.
He jumped up hastily from the chair, then threw his arms around her, as if she was his mother offering him love, warmth, and protection. Making sure her breasts were firmly pressed against his chest, she began to half-lead, half-drag him toward the bedroom.
It was a lot of work getting him up the stairs, but she managed. Finally, half-carrying him down the hall, she got him into the master bedroom and into the mistress' bed. She took off his shoes and socks, and removed his coat and tie as well.
Then she leaned over, and unzipped his fly. She placed his prick on her hands, and began to kiss him on the mouth at the same time, her tongue slipping into his mouth and caressing his tongue as her hands were caressing his cock.
She could feel that his cock was responding to her touch, and he could feel it growing in her hands. He was too exhausted to kiss her back, but he liked the warmth of her tongue reaming his mouth.
When she was finished, she let go of his cock and stopped kissing him.
She began to remove his shirt, and then she got his pants pulled off. Finally, off came his shorts.
She took off her purple peignoir, and covered his body with the garment as if it was a shroud and he was a corpse. He could feel the silky fineness of the garment on his skin. He could barely notice the incongruity of the rich color against his white skin.
'That feels good-I look like-a king-about to be crowned-"
"You've always been at least a prince in my book, Tom," she said, squeezing his prick again.
Then, she sat down on the bed next to him, her ripe buttocks nestling against his. She said, softly, with great seductiveness in her voice, "I have the perfect plan for solving both of our problems, Tom. But, I must insist that you help me out, do as I say, so that both of us can get through this trying period without any trouble."
He hesitated. Somewhere, in a part of his mind, a voice told him that letting June run the show could only lead to further trouble. It was an insistent, nagging voice, and he found it hard to dismiss its ideas.
But-he was feeling so beat-so tired-listen to her-maybe she did have-a good idea-on setting things straight-
And getting Cindy back to him for full-time fucking.
Which was, of course, farthest from June's mind.
She had indeed thought up a plan, what there was of it. It was the only thing she could think of at the moment, but it just might work.
"Listen carefully, Tom," she said, coming closer to him. "I think what James needs is to be discouraged from fucking Cindy any further. Don't you agree?"
He nodded. Of course, he didn't think of the corollary of that proposition; that is, that if that happened, then he should also obviously be discouraged from fucking June any further. That, however, was not what June had in mind at all.
"I thing the best way to accomplish that goal is for Cindy to turn on the power, the next time she fucks James-"
"Fuck James-I want to fuck Cindy-I don't want her-fucking James any more-"
She whipped off the purple peignoir, and lay down beside him. She took, hold of his prick again, and, drawing it toward her mouth, she kissed it and tongued it until it almost exploded right in her face. As she did so, she could feel her pussy getting wetter by the second.
"Listen to me, Tom-we get Cindy fucking James-three, four times a week-turning it on full strength-he's too old for that-he won't be able to handle her-he'll have to cut down-or have a heart attack-"
"She'll be-fucking him-that much more often-"
"No, Tom, it'll only be for a few weeks. By that time, he'll be so fucked out that he'll voluntarily call off the whole thing, come back to me and you'll have Cindy all to yourself again."
She snuggled closer to him; she picked up his right hand and placed it over her left breast. Almost automatically, be began to fondle her breast, and she began to get hotter as he did so.
"But, June-what does that get you-"
"What do you mean, Tom?"
"I mean-Cindy comes back-to me-what about you-and me-you'll have to give me up-too-otherwise-it won't be fair-"
She thought: goddam him, he's not drunk enough.
She said, 'Tom, well talk about that after James gives up Cindy. After all, I'm doing this for you, you know. Because you're my favorite young man, and you have been for a long, long time. And, don't forget it."
To make sure he didn't forget it, she climbed on top of him and rested her cunt lips against his cock. His cock was plenty stiff now, and she moved so that it touched her trembling clit.
A surge of sexual thrills shot through her, as she rubbed her clit against his cock, then brought the cunt lips back into position again. She began to descend on him, her cunt opening with great sucking sounds as she pressed her pussy down on his prick. Her muscles clutched his cock and started to work out as it slid inside her, inch by lovely inch.
Tom started mumbling something, but she began kissing and caressing him, and her cunt was soon completely filled by his cock.
She began to hump him, raising her body up and down, feeling his cock quiver in response. She could feel her juices flowing, and she could feel the both of them beginning to perspire.
Her breasts fondled his chest, and he felt warm and desired, petted and loved. He stopped thinking about Cindy and James and even, to some extent, her. He stopped thinking about everything; for, all he could feel was the beautiful, urgent passions of sex.
He felt his balls strangling in the confines of his scrotum, his cock choking in the clutch of her cunt. He reached up and got his arms around her waist, then dropped them to get a fairly firm grip on her ass.
She was coming like a waterfall now, her pussy pouring forth gallons of juice, getting both of them drenched in the process. He tried to thrust his cock forward, to make sexual connection with her cunt; it was a strain, and he could feel it in his back muscles.
Her vaginal muscles began to help him, as she felt his distress, they began to manipulate his prick, shoving it this way and that, making sure it touched all bases inside her pussy.
And, at last, he came.
like a geyser erupting, he came with that steady, spurting stream she loved so much. She used all the suction possible in her pussy to get his sperm flowing into her, to keep him going while she racked both of their bodies with orgasmic-convolutions.
She was really feeling pretty fucking good, as she got him fucking her, kept him fucking her, enjoying every orgasmic bit. Until she heard him mutter, "Cindy-fuck me, Cindy-keep on fucking me-Cindy-"