Chapter 5
Rachel's knees buckled and she fell astride of Del in front of Patti. Still crooning her simmering pleasure, she lowered her tits onto Del's face, his hands puffing the orbs to his cheeks and mouth. But before too long he was pushing her up and away from his face.
"I wanna know what I missed," he said to her. "Slide your pussy up here onto my tongue."
It sounded good to Rachel. She fairly scrambled up astride Del's head and shoulders and wiggled her spread pussy into position against his mouth. She kept the pressure light, giving his tongue freedom to move, explore, taste, and enjoy.
From behind Rachel came a low moan that could only come from one thing -- the pleasure of riding a hard cock. Patti was in motion, and soon had Del moving under them both, his hips rising and falling against Patti's actions.
Clutching the headboard, Rachel held herself over Del's licking tongue. Sexually sated, she nevertheless enjoyed the contact and could feel herself begin to yearn for renewed enjoyment.
Patti was having the real fun. Her loud breathing and the motions of the bed told of her enthusiastic exertions, and her increasingly frequent moans of pleasure told the rest.
She was taking full advantage of Del's rigid length, lurching all the way up to his flared crown and driving down hard, almost slapping the cheeks of her ass onto Del's hips. Leaning forward, hands on his chest, her pace was quick and urgent.
Patti bounded on to her heart's and pussy's content, though it did not come as quickly or simply as that. She seemed to be at it forever. At it and at it, up and down, up and down, moving on that cock, grinding and scraping on it, going slowly out of her mind on it.
Del became rather still, despite the wild ride she was giving him. He seemed to have forgotten about her, having Rachel's sopping cooze to feast on. But that was all to Patti's benefit. She could steal all the fun she wanted.
His cockshaft was unyielding. It was a steel toy, just for her, and the more she played with it the more fun she had. It was getting to her mind now, taking her into a lushly erotic trance, focusing her entirely on breaking open the pent-up desires deep inside her.
Huffing, puffing, gasping with passionate exertion, whimpering from the carnal torment of her body, she twisted and turned and rose and fell and made it hap-pen.
Intense sensation bolted into her wildly running system. Her thighs and pussy and guts seemed to throb in response, as if her pulse beat had been magnified ten or a hundred or a thousand times, wrenching the ultimate in pleasure through her climaxing body.
The fiercest moments passed, leaving her shivering and shaking in descending aftermath, her strained voice softly sighing and cooing with gentler delights. The here and now slowly returned, and her eyes opened to the view of Rachel's twisting, writhing back, and the wide, twitching ass above Del's chin.
Patti bowed forward and kissed Rachel's dimples, the sudden contact giving the brunette a jolt of pleasant surprise. Rachel then laughed throatily, as if tickled by the wriggling tip of Patti's tongue as she flirted with the widened cleft of her ass.
Del took his tongue from Rachel's cooze and with his hands under her ass lifted her from his mouth. She went all the way up onto straight legs, though remained bent over at the waist.
"Now you," he said to Patti, and started drawing her up between Rachel's legs to take the brunette's place on his mouth. Rachel didn't have to be told where she now belonged.
Rachel backed up and sank once more onto his knees astride of Del's body. She took his greased fuck pole in hand and lifted the tip a notch or two to the wet gash of her cunt.
Sliding onto him, feeling the burn of his flesh inside her own, the slick ease of their joining and the way he filled her up with his throbbing energy simply snapped Rachel's desires and urges and enjoyment wide awake again. The low moan that came from her throat was almost a growl of animal passion.
Patti, meanwhile, was turning around to face Rachel as she fed her pussy to Del's greedy mouth. She crouched over him with her ass low and her head high, face flushed and eyes shining bright.
She looked scrumptious and delicious, and Rachel had to lean forward for a kiss. Patti's mouth yielded welcomingly, even hungrily, and the two women shared a lasting soulful smooch as Del's tongue began to grind at Patti's twat and Rachel started to lift and lower on his cock.
The kiss broke off and then formed again, the two women feeling erotically drawn to each other. They might have been having more fun than by rights they should have, but there was no stopping it. Unable to fight it, they gave themselves over to it completely.
Riding Del without stop, Rachel brought him to a terrific climax. Unable to deny himself, he writhed out of control under both women and went into urgent bucking actions as he shot his wad.
Forgetting about her own wants, Rachel did plenty of bucking of her own, drawing it out of him. His seed flooded her chute, flowed back along his pumping, shooting shaft, and out to slither down over his balls.
Del going slack under Patti and Rachel was not the end of the evening's pleasures, not was it even the beginning of the end. It was simply the end of the beginning.
From the bedroom they moved to the bathroom. They ran a tub of hot water and piled in, and for the next half-hour or so, they splashed and played about and scrubbed one another.
Toweled off, refreshed, naked, they wound their way to the living room. Drinks in hand, they congregated on the deep, roomy couch. Del lay back against one arm of it with Rachel snug on the inside, and Patti in the outside with her upper leg hooked over his legs as added insurance against rolling off.
Gradually, all by itself, Del's cock grew to full rigidity again. Patti and Rachel playfully pretended not to notice, but they did. Finally they let on, Patti still taking the lead.
"I wonder how many different ways there are for a threesome to do it on a couch," she said, eyes drifting down Del's body, letting the fingertips of her free hand trace the slanted line of his hard-on.
"I'm thinking about one," Del answered.
"Oh?"
"I'm picturing you two on your knees on the edge of the seat, bent forward, and little old me taking turns behind you."
"Not so little," Rachel remarked.
"Not so old," Patti added.
"I'll bet you'd have no trouble at all making that scene work," Rachel said then.
She was right. He didn't.
Next afternoon, lying on a lounge seat by the country club pool, there was a faint smile on Rachel's lips as she remembered the rest of her thoroughly enjoyable evening with Patti and Del. They'd each come up with an idea of how to use that couch to their erotic benefit. It had been some kind of good time, she concluded with a sigh.
She heard the splashy sound of someone pulling themselves out of the pool and knew it was her friend, Barbara. She was the only one who had gone into the pool in the last five minutes. It was a sparsely crowded afternoon at the club.
Rachel had known it would be. That's why she had come. Hanging around the house with the maid was no fun, but she didn't want to be in a crowd either. And so soon after last night, a fuck was out of the question. Running into Barbara in the changing room had been unexpected, but a happy accident nevertheless. Barbara had a knack for providing company without making a lot of demands.
She was Rachel's age, with light brown, almost blonde hair. Coming from the pool, she hand-combed it straight back on her gorgeous head. Green-eyes, delicate-boned, with the smoothest skin and whitest teeth, she really should have tried for a career in modeling. With her sleek chassis and ample endowments, she could have started as a center-fold for the classiest of magazines. She had on a French-cut white bikini that would have set off a tingle in the crotch of any man. She certainly had the lifeguard's attention.
But Barbara had wanted what she had thought would be a simpler life in marriage. That had ended, though, and now she was trying a life of living on generous and remarkably prompt alimony payments, with occasional fund-raising activities to keep her busy.
"Where were you last night?" Barbara asked conversationally, picking up a towel to run over her hair. "I called, Dwight said you were out."
"I was out," Rachel said simply.
Barbara responded with a tsk. "Honestly, you're so secretive sometimes I think you're having affairs."
"Would that be so bad?" Rachel asked.
"Well it wouldn't be the nicest surprise in the world," Barbara answered. A more serious look crossed Barbara's usually untroubled, flawless features and she sat down on the neighboring lounge, facing Rachel. "You're not, are you?"
"Why the sudden interest?"
"It's curiosity, and it's not so sudden, I think I've always wondered about you and Dwight."
"Oh?"
"He never seemed quite your type."
"How does he seem?" Rachel asked, not very interested.
"Available, well off, vulnerable. Ripe for picking."
"Are you insinuating something?" Rachel said to that, a little more interested.
"I'm asking," Barbara said, "do you care for Dwight, or did you just score a nice arrangement for yourself with him?"
"Goodness gracious, we're being direct today."
"One of us is."
Rachel turned her head to face Barbara. "Why?"
"Something tells me you are, or have been cheating on Dwight," Barbara answered, "and I don't like it."
"Something tells you!" Rachel said to that. "Is that your evidence? Don't you think you're getting worked up over nothing? If it's any of your business to begin with."
"You're right, it is none of my business, really. But I've been cheated on by someone I was married to, and if you're doing something that dirty to a nice guy like Dwight, I'm going to tell you how rotten I think it is."
"Fine. Do that, when you've got reason to. Meanwhile, find something else to think about."
"Will you answer one question?"
"What?"
"Do you love Dwight? Or even care for him?"
"Why don't you take a survey?" Rachel suggested. "I'll bet you anything that Dwight is the happiest husband in this club."
Barbara looked at Rachel for a few long seconds, then stood. "That wasn't the question," she said, and walked away.
"Barbara?" Rachel called after her, uncertain, not knowing just what Barbara meant by her action.
Barbara kept going. Her stride was not quick or angry, but slower, somewhat resigned. Or was it an indication of disgust?
Rachel's head dropped back against the lounge and she muttered a curse under her breath. She knew she could have handled the situation better. But it had come up on her so sudden, and she had been so unprepared, and coming from Barbara, of all people.
What was going to happen now? What would Barbara do next? Anything? Probably nothing -- because it was none of her business what went on in Rachel's marriage. And what could she do anyway? Blow the whistle? They had been friends a long time, and would she want to cause Dwight all the hurt? Unlikely.
Rachel relaxed. It didn't seem that very much was going to happen at all, except that Barbara was going to cool toward her for the next while.
Well, let her, Rachel thought. Nosy, judgmental, who needed that kind of friendship anyway.
The more Rachel thought about it, the more she resented Barbara butting in like she had. It had taken some nerve -- and the things she had said. The bitch!
Rachel sat fuming for the next few minutes, plotting various revenges against Barbara for acting like she had, ways to bring Miss High and Mighty back down to earth. But nothing seemed viable, and she had to let it go.
A new idea was taking over then anyway. For a moment there with Barbara, she had felt flashes of guilt, remorse and shame. Just flashes, but enough to leave her in a kind of funk. She wasn't about to go crawling to Dwight for a faresh start because of it tough. Her real urge was to reassert herself.
Damn it, she saw to it that her husband went off to work in the morning with a smile on his face. There was nothing wrong with her taking care of herself when he was away, or unable or unwilling to do it for her. She had nothing to be ashamed of and she would prove it. Barbara could sit and watch and blow as many fuses as she wanted. Fuck Barbara. To hell with Barbara.
Her eyes settled on the lifeguard, half a pool-length away. His tan skin glistened in the afternoon sun, muscled thighs resting tantalizingly apart, his blue trunks always seeming provocatively swollen. He was cute. His brown hair was curly, a little long, always tousled under his red sun visor. He was courteous, pleasant, but there was something distant about him, something hinting at secrets he would never tell.
He was nineteen. Too young for most of the wives at the club, but not too young for Rachel. For today anyway, and for the next little while.
Del faded into a memory as Rachel considered the lifeguard, whose name she believed was Sean. The sooner she had him, the better.
Rachel got up, slipped into her sandals, and started a stroll around to Sean's end of the pool. His raised chair was set right at the edge of the walkway, but he didn't miss noticing her approach him from the side, if not a little bit from behind.
"It is Sean, isn't it?" sloe began, looking up at him with the sun at her back.
"Yes."
"Well, Sean, I think you might want to consider wearing sunglasses."
"What's that?"
"So you can ogle all the flesh you want and not get caught at it."
"Meaning?"
"I saw you looking at my friend a few minutes ago," she replied simply, giving him a test.
He passed. He didn't blush, or look away, or become tongue-tied. He didn't deny it either.
"I was hoping she'd notice," he confided.
"Why's that?"
"She's one of the few women around her who's avail-able."
"What about all those nubile nymphettes who gather here on the weekend, when college is out?"
"I'm not old enough to appreciate coeds, or young enough. Guess I'm at an awkward age."
She liked that answer. She felt encouraged. "Then tell me something, Sean," she said, shifting closer to his chair, "won't I do?"
"You're married," he reminded.
"So?"
He appeared to consider her in musing fashion. "So," he answered finally, "if it doesn't bother you, I guess it doesn't both me."
"What time do you finish here, Sean?"
"Three."
"Got a car?"
"I walk a few blocks, then take the bus."
"Bet I could improve on that," she murmured.
"You're on," he replied.