Chapter 8
As James Smithers calculated it, Operation Switching-June would have called it Operation Fair Exchange-had been going on now for exactly two months, and for the past six weeks it had been a twice-a-week affair.
For him, it had had decidedly mixed blessings.
While it had indeed improved his sex life, causing him to really feel more like fucking, it was still getting to be a confusing, almost jealous, situation, with that virile young stud Tom humping his wife and getting her so fucking hot that he could barely keep up with her in bed. That, to him, was coming pretty fucking close to causing a matrimonial conflict.
Especially since Tom and Cindy weren't married, and therefore Tom had, financially speaking, nothing to lose. But he, James Smithers, had a lot of time-not to mention money-invested in his marriage, and if a divorce ever came about due to this switching situation, he'd lose his ass, again financially speaking.
For example.
On this Thursday evening, he'd invested a pretty penny in the chartering of a private airplane, swearing (with a fat bribe) the pilot to secrecy. He was going to wine and dine Cindy-not to mention fuck her as well-in the sky. Special situations were called for, to really impress the shit out of her, to get her hot for his body and not for Tom's.
Because, James felt as if he was really falling for Cindy. He had even thought of divorcing June and marrying Cindy. But-he was afraid-the cost of getting rid of June-might just be too prohibitive. Still-he was really digging her superlative young fucking cunt, and he had to have that cunt at almost any cost. She was like a Fountain of Youth to him; she was, he believed, responsible for his sexual rejuvenation, and he sure as shit wanted that rejuvenation to continue.
As he left his office, he chuckled. He'd also hired a cook to prepare the food for their airborne meal this evening. Of course, the cook and the pilot would strictly stay up front, so that they wouldn't lay eyes on Cindy nor she on them.
As he hailed a taxi-to make certain nobody noticed his car parked at the airport; he was getting almost paranoiac about people in the town possibly finding out his switching secret-he thought of his bank balance, which had dropped considerably during the past two months. This switching situation was almost pricing him out of the market-he had to figure out a way-to get Cindy for himself-without going broke in the process-He changed his clothes in the taxi. From his dull business suit, he slipped into a velvet shirt with a V-neck open almost to the navel, and a pair of tightass bellbottom trousers that really hugged his frame like a second skin. He'd taken off some weight in the gym, and was looking much more fit externally than he'd looked in years.
Internally, though, he was almost fucked out, from all the powerful pussy he'd been getting. That was another thing; he had to ease off his sex somehow, without alerting either female to the fact that he needed either some male hormones or more time to get it up, without getting a heart attack or burning his prick to a crisp.
Finally, they got to the airport, where he paid off the cabbie and checked into the waiting room. He spotted Cindy easily, despite the huge dark glasses she was wearing and the brim cap she had on, hiding her hair under the cap's covering protection. No one but Cindy would wear hot pants and see-thru blouse and knee-high boots and bullet chain around her waist, plus cap and glasses.
He couldn't miss her.
But, he hoped everybody else did.
She spotted him, and he walked outside, toward the private hangar where the plane, a two-engine job that normally seated six, was waiting. She followed him; he gestured toward one of the mechanics, who passed the word to the pilot.
James and Cindy climbed on board.
There were two seats, placed across from each other, both convertible into sleeping areas. A table was placed for their meal, and a stereo tape deck was installed to furnish them with music. It was playing some of Cindy's favorite rock records, interspersed with some of James' more romantically favorites.
Soon, the plane took off, and they fastened their safety belts.
When the plane was finally leveled out at its cruising height and speed, they removed the safety belts. He got up and got a bottle of wine for them, plus two glasses. It was rich red burgundy, with a full bouquet, and they clinked glasses together.
"To us, Cindy, my love," he said.
"Sure, James, I dig it," she replied. They sipped the wine.
She leaned back, took off her cap, and let her lovely red hair fall down over her shoulders. Her lips were full, looking a touch redder with a patina of wine on them; she looked very kissable, or as if she wanted to suck his cock, if not lick his lips.
He could feel his prick rising again. Well, he couldn't help it; cunt was cunt, after all.
He removed his shoes and socks.
She, noticing him doing so, followed his lead, and did the same with hers. She also undid a few buttons on her blouse, so that a touch of titties showed through.
Her nipples were getting taut right in front of his eyes, he noticed. He drank some more wine, and she followed suit.
She was thinking: I just might pull it off-I'm going to have to talk to him-get him to divorce his fucking wife-then marry me-and still keep Tom as a lover-why should I give up Tom-I want both-and I'll get it-if I play things-just right-He was thinking: I'll suggest that June-move in with Tom-if she won't give me a divorce-maybe I can dig up some dirt-and force her to divorce me-or be exposed as an adulteress-I'll get something going yet-because I've got to have Cindy-for my very own-
"Aren't you going to look at all this wonderful scenery, James?" she chided him, as she glanced out of the window. They were flying over the mountains, and also passing over some lakes and meadows, truly beautiful country indeed.
"The best scenery is sitting right across the table from me," he said, giving her a touch of footsie on her legs.
She responded with some tickling of his toes, as she said, "Thank you, James, that's a beautiful compliment."
"More wine, my dear?"
"I'd love it."
He poured her some more wine, still working his toes along her legs, and gradually moving up to her thighs. She returned his attentions with her own toes, and even got in a few digs at his crotch, which almost caused him to spill his wine all over the table.
"You really should look at the scenery, James," she said, pointing out the window.
"All right," he agreed, and shifted his view.
They had left the mountains now, and were ' flying over broad plains, stretching as far as the eye could see along the horizon. Looking at this, he began to feel lonely, as if he was the last man left in the world. It was too mournful a feeling, so he shifted his view back to Cindy.
She was removing her blouse, saying, with a half-apologetic smile on her lips, "It's a bit stuffy in here, don't you think?"
"Yes, it is a bit warm, but I can hardly open a window, you know."
She laughed. "I wouldn't want either of us to fall out without a parachute."
He took her hand, squeezing it, and added, "My dear, I wouldn't eyen want to fall with a parachute!"
Then, releasing her hand, he raised his wine glass in another toast to her beauty, saying, "I'd much rather fall on you, my dear, any day."
She assumed a look of mock horror, and said, "Please-James-not before dessert-"
They were getting along so nicely it seemed logical that they should have dinner together.
So, he got up, and pulled out some food from the portable oven, which was keeping it warm.
The main course, as befits a cruise over the lake country and mountains, was fish.
Broiled brook trout, with buttered peas and carrots, and a fruit salad.
They ate, mostly silent; it's hard to talk with your mouth full.
As they ate, he played more footsie with her, this time getting his foot right in her crotch, feeling her cunt and clit stirring beneath the pantyhose. And, she did the same for him, feeling his prick moving almost the second she touched him.
In fact, he'd had a hard-on of varying lengths ever since they'd taken off.
He couldn't help it; she simply turned him on. But, he certainly didn't want to run around all day with his prick outlined against his pants, either. Much less let her think he'd do anything for her, thus letting her get the upper hand in their relationship.
Although, in some ways-even he would have to admit it, if quizzed-she already had the upper hand. Because she always got his prick to go up, that's why.
He noticed her eyes growing warmer and more lively, the more he looked at her. He figured the wine was helping, for it was almost double-strength (he'd seen to that) and so smooth it went down quite easily.
The music was doing its job, too, because he noticed her body often shimmying to the beat, even while she was sitting down. Her head would nod, from time to time, as the beat got stronger and stronger, and he could feel her foot tap out the rhythms on his leg as she did her footsie thing with him.
When they were finished with the meal, she looked at him with undisguised admiration in her eyes and said, sincerely, 'Thank you, James, you really know how to treat a girl-"
"You're a woman, not a girl!" he interrupted, letting the words leap out so fast he hardly realized what he was saying. He immediately cursed himself for being too impulsive, for letting his feelings show too fast.
What was the matter with him? Why wasn't he playing things cool? What was he getting so excited about? She was just another young cunt among many young cunts-She reached beneath the table and unzipped his fly, causing his prick to pop out. He blushed, for a second, then smiled so that his tongue was hanging out a few inches as she played with his prick as she said, "What's for dessert, James?"
He almost replied, "You're already playing with it." But, instead he said, "That's a surprise. I'll get it right now."
He got up and went to the refrigerator, pulling out two covered dishes, the covers marked "His" and "Hers." He brought them to the table, setting them down in the appropriate place. As he sat down again, he said, "I'll show you mine first, then you can show me yours."
"Do you want me to take off my skirt and pantyhose right now?"
"No, that's not what I mean."
He lifted the cover from his dessert dish.
She stared at what she saw there, her eyes wide open, her mouth opening equally wide. They, she licked her lips, and started laughing in merriment as she understood what she was seeing.
It was a chocolate cunt.
That is, a cream puff baked in the shape of a woman's cunt and filled with whipped chocolate cream. It was, as one might say, good enough to eat.
"Now let's look at yours, my dear."
With great expectation and curiosity, she carefully removed the cover from her dish.
She gasped in surprise-then laughed out loud-
For, she was looking at a chocolate cock.
Like his, a cream puff constructed in the shape of a man's cock, and filled with chocolate whipped cream.
"You may take the first bite, Cindy."
"No, James, I insist that you be first, you're the host."
"But you're the guest, so you go first."
After a brief discussion, they decided to do it simultaneously. At a given signal, each of them dug their spoons into their dessert, and got a good mouthful.
Then, she passed her spoon to him, letting him lick off her spoon-licking part of the chocolate cock-and he did the same for her, allowing her to partake of part of his chocolate cunt.
They laughed at their private joke, and continued to eat their suggestive desserts until they were but a memory, cleaning the dishes completely.
They washed them down with more wine.
They were feeling quite full, after all that food.
But-
Not quite so full that they didn't feel like fucking around with each other.
Which was, naturally, the reason they were together in the first place.
He sat there, looking at her, admiring the curvature of her breast and the pinkness of her nipples. He took off his own shirt, and she reached forward, twinning her fingers in his chest hairs, which were curled as thickly as a bramble bush.
"You're really hairy, James."
"I guess I've got more hair on my chest than on my head, that's all."
"Bullshit, there's plenty of hair up there."
She reached her other hand to rub her fingers in the hair on his head. She noticed the beginning bald spot there, but she didn't say anything.
Then, she let go of him, poured herself some more wine, and placed the full wine glass over each of her breasts in turn, leaving a patina of wet wine on her nipples. She said, "Would you like some more wine, James?"
He got the message.
He leaned forward, his mouth open, his tongue hanging out like a thirsty dog. He began to lick the wet wine off her nipples, feeling the tautness of them and the softness of her breasts. She began to shiver with delight, and he could also feel his prick, still sticking out from his pants, began to stiffen appreciably.
She reached beneath the table and clutched his cock again, and he almost came right into her hand.
She sensed this, and let go of his cock.
She put her hands on top of the table, and an idea entered her head. She reached for his left hand, and, before he quite knew it, she had pried loose his wedding ring and was trying it on her third finger, left hand.
"Hey-what the fuck-are you doing-"
"I'm playing wife, that's all." She pouted at him. "I've never been a wife before, I wanted to see how it feels."
He looked at her, a quizzical, almost suspicious, expression on his face. He wasn't quite sure what kind of game she was trying to play with him now. And yet, he began to feel a different kind of thrill, as his imagination went to work on her suggestion.
Wife-married-legally fucking her-day and night-fine young cunt-built to last his lifetime and longer fucking her-exclusively-for all time-He gulped down his wine, and poured himself another glass. He knocked off half of that, then leaned back, licking his lips, his smile almost sinister, like a villain on a late, late movie.
She was still playing with his ring, twisting it around that particular finger. Of course, it wouldn't fit, so she ended up switching it to her forefinger, where it managed to stay in place.
"Are you going to give me my ring back, Cindy?"
She grinned mischievously, as she said, "Not now, I think I'll keep it-for a souvenir-a remembrance of our times together-"
"What do you mean, remembrance?" He was suddenly feeling both sick and suspicious at the same time.
She cocked her eyebrows, pointing her nose toward the ceiling, and said, "Well, I don't know-it seems to me-that our relationship-just isn't really going anywhere-"
Before he could comment, she quickly added, "Not with your wife still owning you, anyway."
"No one owns me!" he shouted, banging his fist on the table. Then, remembering something, he added, "And what about Tom? You're living with him, aren't you? How does he fit in with out-relationship-"
She reached beneath the table again, and this time she grabbed his cock so hard that he could feel her fingernails digging into his scrotum as she said, almost savagely, "Tom's just a boy, and you're a man!"
Both reassured and suddenly stimulated, he grabbed her hand and got her to let go of his prick. Then, he tossed the table aside, letting the dishes fall all over the floor. He stood up, his prick sticking out of his pants like a loaded gun; he unbuckled his belt and took off his pants, then dropped his drawers. But, he left his socks on, not bothering to remove them.
Then, he reached over and grabbed her by her skirt, and practically pulled it off, disposing of her pantyhose in the same way.
She smiled, secretly laughing. She knew now that she had him at her mercy, that she had really planted the seeds of suspicion, and that some beautiful flowers would result. She had got him hot for marriage; and, marriage must, in his case, logically follow divorce.
As his wife, she'd have his money. And, she'd still have Tom, too; though, she wouldn't mention that to him. Not here. Not now.
"Well, James, what are you waiting for? If you want to fuck me, then fuck me. But, first-" She dangled her finger with his ring in his eyes, "-we must legalize our relationship-"
He leaped upon her like a hungry animal.
Even she was surprised at the abruptness, almost the violence, of his approach, as he wrestled her to the floor and slammed his cock into her crotch. He covered her face with passionate kisses, as he struggled to get his cock inside her cunt.
She realized that she'd better fuck him right now, or he might get really violent, and no telling where that might lead. She got hold of his cock, and helped him get it inside her cunt, which sufficiently lubricated by this time to allow for easy, though hard-thrusting, passage.
He began to pound her pussy as if his prick was a hammer. She shuddered, almost as much in fear as in sex, as she felt her pussy juices flowing. Then, giving herself to the wonderful feeling of fucking, she let herself go into orgasm, her vaginal muscles clutching his cock in a tight, vice-like grip.
He humped and pumped her, feeling her breasts against his chest and her clit against his stomach. All he could think of was fucking her-of divorcing June-of marrying Cindy-he really had the unexpurgated hots for her-fuck Tom-fuck June-but fuck Cindy first-He came.
It was a violent, volcanic ejaculation, and he fired off his rounds one after the other, each hitting her pussy with the impact of a bullet. She'd never been fucked so violently, so erotically before, and she practically went out of her mind. All she could say was, "Divorce June-" as he mumbled in reply, while still fucking her, "I will-