Chapter 6
"Will that be all, Mr. Smithers."
"Yes, and no phone calls for the rest of the day, please."
"Thank you, sir."
As he watched his secretary walk out of his office, swinging her sweet ass as always, James Smithers didn't seem to give a good goddam any more. It used to be, she could always give him a rise; now, no more.
Oh yes, he could always get it up for June, as he'd done throughout their married life. But, there was a new experience he was enjoying, and that was fucking Cindy. It was that young cunt, that was it, that was making him almost oblivious to everything else. Except June.
She was still as demanding as ever, insisting he fuck her every day-except Monday and Thursday, the new days for his switching-at least once, and often more. He was beginning to feel somewhat fucked out, and he'd noticed that he was slowing down at work, he wasn't getting out as much production as he used to.
To counter that he'd delegated a bit more duties to his assistants. He could manage in that vein for a while; but, he had to get himself back in shape some way.
He was working out at the gym once a week, and that was helping him to feel physically better. He had even lost five pounds; though, he suspected he'd fucked that weight away.
Well, the problem was that he was really putting too much energy into his sex life lately, and not as much as he used to into his job. But, if he kept up his gym workouts and studied a little yoga or something like that, he should be able to handle both his pleasure and his work without any conflict.
If only June wasn't so demanding, though...
It was almost as if she wanted to fuck him to death...
And, Cindy ... did she love to fuck, too!
She had objected so much, the first few times; she had been so anxious to get back to Tom ... yes, he remembered.
But, now she hadn't even argued about the new twice-a-week arrangements June had made for them all. That was surprising; but, what was even more surprising was the fact that she seemed to be genuinely enjoying their sex sessions together. it was as if every time she fucked him she was pretending that she was fucking Tom.
And, for all he knew, she was.
Well, this evening he was taking her out of town, to a cottage in the mountains, that he had "borrowed" from a friend who was out of town himself. No one from the town would know about it, much less see them together.
He tried to get his mind back on his work. He still had two hours to go before the work day was over.
He managed to get at least one hour's work done during those two hours, and heaved a sigh of relief when he finally got out of his office and behind the wheel of his car. He drove in a prearranged direction, and finally found himself at the intersection where she had agreed to meet him.
Yes ... there she was...
She was standing by the street sign, wearing a pair of bellbottoms and a big, floppy hat. A bright yellow hat, as she'd said she would; it was pulled so low over her face that he couldn't tell for sure if it was her or not. Next to her was an airline tote bag, jammed with what he assumed were changes of clothing. He pulled over to the curb. He stuck his head toward the right window, and said to the girl, "Cindy ... is that you..."
The girl, not looking at him, muttered something about "calling the cops to collect this over-aged rapist."
Panicky, he swung his body back toward his own side of the car. He was just about ready to drive off when the girl opened the right front door and hopped inside next to him, switching to her natural voice as she said, "Can't you take a joke, James? Who did you expect to pick up on this corner-Little Orphan Annie?"
She pulled off her hat and Hipped it into the back seat. Her lush red hair hung loosely over her shoulders and down to her breasts in front. She reached over and kissed him a quick one in the ear, giving him a bit of a bite on the lobe when she was finished.
Then, she moved next to him, snuggling quite close. Her hand found his crotch; she began to massage his prick, and they could both feel it start to rise to attention.
"Please, Cindy ... not when I'm driving "I want you to drive me home. Daddy," she said, giving his balls a big squeeze, before she removed her hand to the relative safety of his thigh.
He took one hand off the wheel to give her left breast a good squeeze, saying "Tit for tat."
"Tit is right," she replied.
She had taken to calling him Daddy lately, which he didn't really like. So, he corrected her as follows, "Listen, Cindy my sweet cunt, you either call me James or else..."
"Or else what?"
"Or else I'll cut you out of my will, along with my wife, and leave all my money to charity."
Her expression turned to a mixture of shock and disgust. It was as if she was really scared shitless that he wouldn't leave her any cash when he died. He had a vague premonition that her interests might not necessarily be personal; after all, she was pretty well used to fucking Tom and other young guys (previously), so maybe her sudden interest in him was feigned, not real.
He made a mental note to check that out at a later date and time. For tonight, he just wanted some good fucking without any analytical connotations.
There was a range of small mountains not more than 10 miles from the town. As they drove up the steep, winding mountain road, she kept snuggling next to him, still touching his thigh, keeping up a steady stream of conversation that was beginning to convince him she was no dum-dum, by any means.
Finally, they arrived at the mountain chalet, which was more of a shack than a chalet. They parked the car, and he got out the keys and opened the place up.
As they entered, he saw that it was only a one-room abode, with a set of bunk beds, a sofa, a few chairs and tables, and a pull-out kitchen. Still, there was a marvelous view of the mountains through the front window. And, as he checked the refrigerator, he found some white wine, very chilled, some ham and cheese and bread.
He made some sandwiches for them, and got some glasses and filled them with wine. They sat on the sofa, digging the view and each other, munching and drinking.
"That's a cool view," Cindy said, biting off a great hunk of Swiss cheese.
"It should be, it's always cool in the mountains," he replied.
"Here, James, pretend this cheese is my pussy, and eat me."
She held the cheese forward, and he grabbed a bite of it. She had put some hot horseradish mustard on it, and as soon as he got the taste in his mouth, he started coughing, and had to gulp down two glasses of wine to get himself straightened out again.
She looked at him mischievously, saying, "Don't blame me, I thought you liked mustard with your cheese."
Then, she pulled off her blouse she wasn't wearing a bra and spread some mustard on both of her breasts. She thrust them forward, saying, "This is mild mustard, come on and lick me off."
He hesitated.
She dipped her finger on her right nipple, and held it over his lips. "Just take a taste; I'm not kidding you." He tasted.
She was right; it was mild mustard. She leaned closer, her breasts looming large in his vision, like two boulders rolling into his eyes. He stuck out his tongue. He touched and tasted her left tit first. He licked his lips.
He began to lick the mustard away, feeling her breasts rising and falling, feeling the erectness of her nipples. He let his tongue roam over the tops and sides of her boobs, lapping all the way down to the base and back again.
Next, her right breast.
He used his mouth more than his tongue this time, and also he could feel his prick rising to the occasion, as he licked and sucked at her breast. Even when all the mustard was gone, he continued, feeling the fine silky touch of her flesh and the protruding nipple firmly in his mouth.
He had previously removed his coat and tie, and now she began to unbutton his shirt. She got it off him while he was still licking her right boob.
She was surprised to notice he was wearing an undershirt. She said, "What the fuck do you want an undershirt for? Are you afraid of sweating on your chest, or something?"
When he didn't reply, she started to rip it off.
He was too busy eating her breast to give a shit, so she kept on tearing the flimsy fabric until she had torn it right off his back. Then, she started to play with his curly chest hairs.
Even in the moonlight, she thought she found something when she said, "James, you've got a few gray hairs here, I don't dig that, let me take them off."
He was hardly hearing her. There was something about her right breast that seemed to capture and keep his attention. He was sucking away like a baby on a bottle of milk...
When she yanked out one of his gray hairs.
"Uiranm....ouch..." he mumbled, releasing her breasts from his mouth.
He admonished her, "Knock that childish stuff off right now, or I'll take you right home!"
She shrugged. "If you do, you're liable to run into your old lady, and you know she hates me so she'll probably clobber the both of us."
She had changed the subject successfully, for he replied, angered, "She doesn't hate you!"
"Well, she sure as shit doesn't love me, with me making out with you, now does she?"
"What does that have to do with us?"
"Nothing, unless you take me home, and your old lady's home, too, and we get into a hassle..."
He was getting tired of her silly conversation, but was too polite to tell her so.
So. . .
He took some of the wine from his glass, and poured it over her breasts. Then, he started to lick it off. As he did so, she reached down, and began to run her fingers through his hair, stopping momentarily at a bald spot that was beginning right on the back of his head.
Then, she moved her fingers on, as she felt his tongue and lips caressing her breasts. She had to admit he had a pretty good sense of touch and taste; he was smooth, subtle, and thoroughly arousing. She could feel her clit getting right up there like his prick, and some juices were also beginning to stir inside her pussy.
He continued licking until all the wine was gone from her boobs.
He drew his head back.
She looked at him, wide-eyed with admiration, and said, "James, you've got the greatest mouth in world, I think."
"Better than Tom's?" he needled her a little bit.
"Well ... " she hesitated, not wanting to get all screwed up in making comparisons. " ... Tom's pretty good, but I think you're better. I mean, you've got more experience, more maturity ... you know what I mean."
He smiled, showing his teeth. She had said the right fucking thing, for a change. And, strangely enough, she was beginning to believe what she'd said herself.
That is, she had been comparing James and Tom, ever since that first time with James. He had shown her that he was equal to Tom's youthful energy, but also added an extra touch of experience that Tom didn't quite have yet. She wasn't quite as torn between the two of them, any more, as she'd originally thought she might be.
In fact, she was beginning to think about other things with James as well. Among them-money.
Her job was poorly paid, and Tom wasn't pulling in all that much money, either. There were some things that Cindy would like to have. Not so much as some new rock records or a week in Los Angeles; but, more expensive clothes and perhaps specialized schooling and...
Yes ... why not?
A nice, long vacation trip, entirely paid for by somebody else.
Maybe that somebody else might be James.
Maybe he might even give her a new car in which to go traveling, too.
That would be something to think about.
"Who fucks you better, Cindy Tom or me?"
Startled, she mumbled something about that not being "A fair question" and "Are you tape-recording this?"
He repeated the question.
This time she said, "Look, you've got advantages and disadvantages, and you've both got different-shaped pricks, too. He's got the youth, you've got the experience, and that pretty well says it."
He wasn't satisfied with that.
He grabbed her by the hair, and yanked hard at the back of her head. He thrust his erect prick at her stomach, as if he was holding a gun on her, and said, obviously agitated, "Who's the better fucker, that's what I want to know! Who do you like to fuck Tom, or me? Come on answer me!"
"James ... please ... you're hurting me..."
He kept up the pressure, his eyes blazing with jealousy. She figured the best thing would be to agree with him; she had never seen him so jealous, so sexually frustrated, so childishly-demanding before.
For a moment, she was tempted to walk right off the entire situation, and call the whole thing quits.
Except ...
For the fact. . .
That he had her by long hair.
"You..." she finally blurted out. "You, James . . .you really tear me apart ... turn me on . . .your prick's like TNT . . .inside me . . .really tears me up..."
He let go of her hair.
He removed his prick from her stomach.
He leaned back, satisfied, his eyes still glowing with lust but without that slight trace of madness that had been there before. He poured himself a glass of wine, and gulped it down, chugalug.
"Would you go up against the wall for me, Cindy?" he said, his question abrupt and unexpected.
"Huh?"
"I mean, if I said ... up against the wall, mother..."
She laughed at the phrase she'd heard so many times lately, it was almost a cliche. She poured herself a glass of wine, sipping slowly. She was feeling more relieved now, more sure of herself.
"Yeah, sure, James. Only ... I'm not a mother, you know..."
"Would you like to be one, Cindy."
"Be ... what ... "
"A mother."
Weird, she thought ... what is this mother shit ... does this nut want to knock me up ... or knock me down...
She took a hefty swig of the wine. She was starting to shiver, and goose bumps were breaking out on her skin.
"I'm on the pill, James, if that's what's worrying you."
He looked at her, her white body almost ethereal in the moonlight. She began to feel colder; damn, she thought, let's fuck and get this weirdo shit out of our systems, shall we?
She moved closer to him, clutching his cock. She could feel it was good and stiff, and needed no further stimulation from her to get its beautiful job done.
She began to stroke his hair with her other hand.
"It's very romantic here, James, with the moonlight and the mountains and all that stuff. What do you say we get with it, OK?"
He tweaked her nipples with his thumbs, snapping them like fingers; she could feel the sensations start coursing through her nervous system. Her clit felt as erect as his prick, and her juices were beginning their free-flowing journey now.
"Sure, Cindy ... we'll get with it ... as soon as you ... get up against the wall ... "
He really meant it; he wanted to fuck her standing right up against the wooden wall, with the moonlight streaming in on both of them. She suddenly realized that he wasn't kidding, he meant exactly what he was talking about.
She sighed.
She began to move toward the wall, still clutching his cock. She braced herself in a corner, figuring at least it would be easier for her to remain on her fucking feet this way. He pressed his body against hers, feeling her breasts push against his chest.
She began to put his prick inside her pussy.
His eyes glowed like burning coals; they could have easily been the eyes of a madman, she thought, and maybe she was a little crazy herself to be fucking around with him like this.
Until she felt his cock enter her cunt. . .
And the width of his prick began to stretch her pussy membranes to their utmost. . .
She could hear him puffing with exertion this time, though. She wondered if his age was beginning to tell on him, if he was fucking too hard for his energy level.
But, she stopped wondering when he began to manipulate his prick around inside her pussy, and her vaginal walls struggled to accommodate him. Her pussy juice began to pour out. drenching them both; she started to arch her back, her body buckling against the hard wood of the wall. She could even feel a few splinters getting underneath her skin, which pricked at her and pushed her forward, closer to him.
He was really working her over now, battering his prick inside her pussy, battering her body against the wall .mother...
She grabbed him around the shoulders, dropping her hands to his waist, then down to his buttocks, where she got her fingernails into a good, tight, bloodletting grip. He didn't seem to care or notice; he just kept pounding away at her with his prick, and she could feel her pussy protesting by the unusual amount of juice she was releasing.
She was really fucking him now, going into orgasm after orgasm, her entire body like a vibrating, electrical charge of pure sexual energy. He could feel her fucking him, and he was trying to wait, to let his stuff loose at the proper time...
Cut, she was getting him much too hot to wait. So ... He came.
Right at the very end of one of her orgasms, surprising her with his spurting, jolting streams of sperm, catching her at the wrong moment. She struggled to start another orgasm, and as she did, his intensity increased, and she could really feel him fucking the living shit out of her.
Up against the wall ... Cindy ... you fucking mother . ...