From: losgud <lushgod@hotnomail.com>
Subject: <*>{losgud}NEW--This Is What Happens
Date: 13 Nov 1998 00:00:00 GMT
Message-ID: <17164eli$9811130529@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <364B34CB.2427@hotnomail.com>
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/17164.txt>
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Reply-To: see@iglou.com, end@iglou.com, note@iglou.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>

=========================
The following work is pure fiction.  All people, places & situations are 
complete fabrications of my imagination.  Any resemblance is wrong.  
Content includes GRAPHIC SEX.  If your laws state that you are too young 
to be reading this, grow up and change those laws.  Until then, duh, go 
wild in your own head.

©1998 losgud.  ALL rights reserved.  These words belong to me.  Don't 
fuck with them.  Write your own.  NO for-profit use, reposting, 
archiving [other than a.s.s.m & Deja News] etc.  Read, download, share 
with a friend.  Consider unauthorized inclusion in a personal web site 
as an infringement of copyright.
=========================
M/F  Cons  Inc(?)  Hum  &tc
NOTE:  This story is chock-a-block with the good stuff--as such, a 
certain suspension of physiological reality must be entertained in the 
obvious spots.  Got a problem with that?  Then don't read it.  
Otherwise, as always, enjoy!

  

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS


This is what happens.  

You got an old woman living alone in a far older house in a tiny 
northern town.  The house has been in the family forever.  The old lady 
has enough intelligence and taste to care for the roomsful of good taste 
she inherited.  Then she dies.

Guess what happens.

One guess, baby.

That's right.

It's instant family-reunion time.

There's the funeral and stuff, but even I didn't come up for that.

The old house is sold and contents up on the block.  Us rats arrive in 
unison to pick the skeleton clean.  Between us we hired out both of the 
U-Haul trucks on the local lot.

It's a full house, like back in the good old days.

Me and Lydia and our two boys.  Mom got Dad to come along.  Sally, my 
baby sister, and her husband Hank, rode up with them.  Our older brother 
didn't think too highly of old furnishings; the sister between us was 
stuck down in Florida pretending she could stake her claims over the 
phone.  And then, presumably, leave transport of said booty to one of 
us!  Rosemarie was getting the beat-up vinyl recliner from the late '70s 
with the attitude she was carrying.  Maybe we'd toss in the rubber 
doormat.

What actually did happen was this:  I got to meet Mom's first-cousin 
Jim--and his wife Mary--for the second time in my life.

I got to meet them the first time when I was fourteen.

Mr. and Mrs. Charme had four daughters comparable in age to the lot of 
us.  They too spent a week or two every summer up at Grandma's.  But 
only the once, finally, did the twain to meet.  Mostly, before and 
after, they lingered like some mirror ghost family, the proof of their 
presence always that either they'd just left, or they would arrive 
immediately following our departure.  We'd scour the house for clues, 
seeking any hint of these other kids who had slept in our beds, played 
with the same old toys we did, hid in all the same places we had, did--
surely!--much of the same things we always did.  We never found a sliver 
of evidence; Grandma had a thorough house-cleaner.

The one time our visits overlapped, my family slept in a motel for the 
first week, though of course we were otherwise constantly over at the 
house.  Our presence, we hoped, a hint to these usurpers to hurry up 
time so they would leave and we'd get the second week in the familiar 
beds.

I was, as noted, fourteen, and though I was pathologically shy back 
then, it was not to the extent that I didn't notice this houseful of 
beautiful girls.  Abby and Barb, the two oldest--bracketing me a year 
each in age--had long straight hair well down their backs, which really 
was my ideal of feminine beauty at the time.  I couldn't even talk to 
them.  They both had the makings of real breasts.  Gwen, the baby, was 
naturally too young for me to notice, except when she was being 
particularly endearing.  Kara, the third girl, was actually the one I 
interacted with the most.  She was gregarious, just on the cusp of 
passing over into that hormonal standoffishness.  I was of course the 
boy closest in age to her.  Her hair was cut just above her shoulders 
and didn't lay down.  Maybe she sensed the competition with her older 
sisters for my attention.  

There is no point in emphasizing any of this.  The familial lines were 
drawn, and a week wasn't near enough time for the two camps to much 
merge.  All I really remember is several times Rosemarie and Sally and I 
dragging out the croquet set, and Kara stepping in to join us.  Her 
foreign presence keeping the game from disintegrating into the usual 
family brawl.

I knew that Mr. and Mrs. Charme would be coming; they, along with Mom 
and Dad, had booked rooms at the same motel of lore--the one in town 
that was part of a national chain, hence _clean_.  This visit, it would 
be us kids who would have the run of the house.  There would likely be 
enough bedrooms to go around, with the kids' kids parked in sleeping 
bags on the livingroom floor.  I didn't know which of the long-lost 
cousins would be there; Mom wasn't sure either, though she did hint 
darkly that Abby hadn't even been notified.  She was married with a huge 
brood, but her family was part of a larger "Family"--some sort of 
unnamed cult--and the Charmes had decided it didn't make much sense to 
let Abby share in the spoils since it'd all be immediately turned over 
to the "Father" or "Master" or whatever head-honcho.

Barb showed up with her husband Bart and their three kids.  My memories 
of her seemed to have been false.  Maybe she had seen a full flowering, 
but the bloom was definitely long gone.  The skinny girl with a cute 
butt and nice tits had aged badly.  Probably she'd just been in a 
marriage-long ugly-competition with her ex-college-football-player 
spouse.  The kids looked alike, and all had names beginning with "B".

It was nearly picturesque, this extended family of ours sprawled out 
across the wide front porch of the old family house, spilling down the 
steps and out onto the lawn.  The kids playing a noisy game of croquet 
with the same goddamned set from when we were kids.  Gwen wouldn't be 
able to show, it transpired, because she was under lock and key.  She, 
it turned out, spent her life completing programs, vacillating between 
programs; PhD programs, on the one hand, rehabs on the other.  And she 
was currently under lock and key.  I got up and went inside to get a 
glass of water, having tired of Barb's gleeful use of the phrase _under 
lock and key_.  When I returned, Mrs. Charme was boastfully explaining 
why Kara likely wouldn't be coming; Barb's face was in a pouty shadow.  
I'd missed most of the gist--something about how Kara was fabulously 
successful in some trans-global high-glamour corporation.  How they'd 
left messages at the hotel suites she maintained in Paris, New York and 
Singapore.

Just then a yellow cab came rolling down the street, slowing up 
considerably the closer it got.

A yellow cab?  In this town?  There wasn't a yellow cab company within a 
hundred miles.  The closest yellow cab was in the nearest significant 
city, about 150 miles away.  Which also happened to be the only city 
within half a thousand miles to boast an international airport.  As the 
taxi pulled to a stop directly in front of the house, I could see from 
the lettering on the medallion on the door that my guess was correct.

"Oh . . . my . . . gawd," I dead-panned, "isn't this just _exciting_?  
Someone famous has come to see us!"

No one knew whether to laugh or not.

"Or else," I shrugged, "someone famous got some _very_ bad directions."

As the chuckles wore away, I turned to Lydia, amazement all over my 
face.  "Don't tell me you gave this as the delivery address to Ed 
McMahon and Dick Clark?  Hallelujah!  The family manor is saved!"

Lydia gave me a squirrely look, but I let my train of thought roar down 
the track.

"Can you see inside?  Do they have that cardboard check the size of a 
mattress?  Maybe it's in the trunk."

"Don't _bed_ on it," Lydia slyly slipped.

The porch was a chorus of hoots and groans.

I narrowed my eyes to look at Lydia.  "You owe me one."

She nudged an elbow in my side.  "I'd say we're even."

Right at that point, the passenger door opened.  A foot slanted out to 
the curb.  The foot became leg, and more leg, more leg, then even more 
leg.  The matching foot poked out, at a slightly different angle; it too 
anchored an endless leg.

The figure that emerged wasn't exactly tall, nor did she really have 
unending legs.  She just happened to be wearing a skirt so short that, 
given an inch or two less of fabric, would have done no good at hiding 
the juncture of these pair of legs.

"Kara!" the Charme side of the family sounded.

Kara gave a great false grin, a tiny wave, then turned back to the taxi.  
She bent over retrieving something out of the backseat. 

It was nearly a full moon at midday.

She returned, slipping the strap of a small travel bag over her 
shoulder.

Lydia leaned over to me and murmured, "Why look, it's your cousin the 
jet-setting slut."

"Oh hush!" I whispered back.

She suppressed a giggle.  "Certainly more interesting than your cousin 
the cow."

I slapped at her knee.  "Be nice."

The cabby never got out of his seat, so since it was like he wasn't 
really there, there was the chorus of Charmes badgering Kara about how 
she managed to get him to bring her all the way here. 

"Well, of course he started grumbling immediately.  All that parochial," 
she made her voice gravely low, "_I don't leave the city limits_ shit."

"What did you do?" Barb asked fascinated.

"I tossed a Ben Franklin into his lap and told him to shut the fuck up 
and keep driving.  I had to give him directions the whole way.  At any 
rate, I doubt he's unhappy.  The fare was astronomical, but nothing 
compared to the tip.  He'll be back in the city before his shift's half 
over, and already he's made the best week of his life."

"How . . . " Barb fairly stuttered.

"Expense accounts, darling," Kara brushed it away with a shrug.  
"They're simply _mah_velous."

"Though probably not as _mah_velous as the cabby's view up her skirt," 
Lydia continued for my benefit.

"Well, you likely pegged that right."

"She probably blew him on the drive over."

"Oh, stop it."

By that point, with a squeal of tires, the taxi was history.

Barb leapt to her feet, "Oh my god--Kara!  He took off with all your 
luggage!"

Kara's eyes didn't leave her sister's form.  "No he didn't."

"But . . . but . . . but surely that tiny shoulder bag isn't all you 
brought."

"Yes it is."

"But . . . you couldn't possibly fit everything you need into that!"

I had yet to utter a word within Kara's hearing; even so she flashed an 
unnerving smile at me before turning back to answer Barb, "Oh, I'll just 
go out and get whatever I really need."  Kara paused to consider her 
words, canting her hip.  "And whatever I _want_," she added.

Lydia hadn't missed that carnivorous display of teeth.  She'd never been 
a huge fan of affection in public, but she nuzzled my ear so intensely I 
thought she was trying to suck out my brains.  "I _bet_ she does," she 
breathed.  

Mr. Charme was up stomping his foot and smacking his hands.  "That's my 
Kara!  You always were a real go-getter."

"Maybe at times," Lydia spoke into my ear, "but I figure her for more of 
a go-gettim type."  Lydia waited for Kara to glance our way, then 
slapped a proprietary arm around my shoulder.  "Looks like I better lock 
you in a cage for the duration."

"Lydia, would you quit being so _evil_!" I muttered out the side of my 
mouth.

"Good in the face of evil."

Well, I've never been one to prey on other people's fears, but I spent 
the rest of the day eagerly awaiting bedtime.  In this age of 
preventative medicine, I thought I was guaranteed to get a damn good 
dose of an anti-stray inoculation.  Indeed, after I reached over to turn 
out the bedside lamp, I was ready for action.  I cuddled up behind 
Lydia, parking my erection in the groove of her ass.  She responded by 
wiggling those lovely soft cheeks back against me.  I couldn't think of 
a surer sign that all systems were go.

But then she reached back and patted my hip, gave a big sigh, murmuring, 
"I know we just got here, but I can't wait to get back home.  Back in 
our _own bed_.  Without so many other people all around."  She gave her 
bottom a single thrust back at me as a sort of punctuation point, 
clarifying her meaning.  Before I could think of a suitable line of 
disagreement, Lydia's breathing shifted, into that short ragged rhythm, 
signifying that behind her closed lids her eyes were darting about, 
seeing things that I would never know.   

This is what happens.

Breakfast had barely begun when suddenly the universal plan began to 
form.  Of course, the County Fair was on, and we'd all drive over and 
spend the day there.

Hell if I was!  That damn fair had been the bane of my childhood.  I was 
an adult now--I didn't have to go if I didn't want to.  _You can't make 
me, you can't make me, you can't make me!_

I could live off my memories of the stupid fair for the rest of my days.  
It is best not to overestimate the fun to be had at a fair when the 
largest city in the county numbers only a few thousand people.  Barns 
full of hams and briskets still on the hoof, lowing and grunting.  Flat 
fountain drinks full of ice in dirty dixie cups.  The _Rollercoaster of 
Death_ that looks about one busted bolt away from living up to its name.  

My plate started the stack of dirties in the kitchen.  From there, I 
went quickly to the cellar.  It was a damp dark earthy-smelling place 
that'd terrified me as a child.  I hid down there, listening to the 
sounds of everyone moving about the house, getting ready to go.  Finally 
I heard Lydia calling out my name as her hard-soled shoes clomped 
through the rooms.

"Down here!" I yelled out.

"Where?"

"In the cellar!"

"What are you doing down there?" the door squealed open.  

"Fighting off the Daddy Longlegs," I replied, knowing that would keep 
her from coming down the steps.  

"We're all ready to go."

"I'm sorry.  I came down here to check out the furnace and water heater-
-I've gotten a bit tied up.  You all just go on without me.  Hate to 
miss the fun, but if I leave now I'll forget what I'm doing."

Just like a kid, I squeezed my eyes shut and crossed all my fingers.  I 
have this mechanical aptitude that made my lie perfectly plausible.  But 
I didn't dare believe that I'd be let off the hook.  I didn't want to 
jinx myself in the silence that followed.

"Okay," came the long sigh at last.  I pumped a fist in the air!  "Suit 
yourself.  We won't be back 'til late afternoon, so you'll have to fend 
for yourself at lunchtime."

"No problem.  Have some fun for me, okay?"

"Okay."  A bit frosty in the tone.

"We'll go out to Lucky's Steak House for dinner, okay?"

No response.

"And I found a can of 3-in-1 down here, so I'll get those bedsprings to 
quiet down a bit, okay?"

"Oh, _stop it_, you," Lydia chortled, shutting the door.  I listened to 
her footsteps leading the long line to the front door, and then the 
house was quiet.  

I prowled around a little more.  Some lovely mason jars on a bench, but 
put to use decades before, and best not disturbed.  Several hand-forged 
tools that I placed out of sight on a high shelf, to be retrieved later.

Then I turned an eye to the waterheater.  "Keep working for a couple 
more days, you hear?"  Its gas burner fired up in reply.  I barely 
glanced at the furnace.  "It's summer; fuck you."

As long as everyone else was going to be gone, be away, kept out of my 
hair, I decided to go exploring.  Mostly I was keen to glean the scraps 
of Grandma's life.  The artifacts.  The pictures and letters and 
documents and kept objects of tiny size but enormous significance.  The 
stuff of which the rest of the lot would glance at briefly--_huh!_--then 
toss in the trash.  Such loot--I best remembered from the prowls of my 
last visit ages ago--was to be found in her bedroom, the top drawers of 
her highboy, the very bottom of the lowboy's big drawer.  Tucked in 
little boxes in the corner shelf piece.  Drop the leaf of the secretary.  
Boxes buried under blankets on the upper shelf of the walk-in, windowed, 
closet.

The door to grandma's bedroom was ajar.  There was no reason not to push 
through it boldly.

This is what happens.

When I entered the room, there was only one thing to notice.  The door 
gave a squeak, and then there was another little squeak.  Kara, 
apparently fresh from the bath, wrapped in a towel, was lying on top of 
the white chenille bedspread.  Actually, she was lying on top of the 
towel as well, herself having come unwrapped.  And she wasn't really 
lying flat; her legs were drawn up, knees having slammed together the 
moment I walked in the room.  Her hands were clamped between her thighs, 
the elbows awkwardly bent inward so the upper arms sort of hid her 
breasts.  She was as modestly covered as a naked woman can get.

She had to have known though that a cushiony hint of her sex was 
visible--she had to have known because I stood there gawking at it.

I should have turned my head.  I should have averted my gaze.  I should 
have blushed and mumbled a few sorry words.  I should have turned and 
sidled out of the room.  I should have done all this, and doubtless I 
would have done all this, but right at the moment I was about to do all 
this, Kara's knees began to separate.  With a groan, her legs opened 
like a drawbridge.  To allow passage of a tall-masted ship, no doubt.

Her fingers, trapped in the act, remained exactly as they'd been at the 
moment I bumbled into the room.  Then they shifted, spreading the lips 
of her pussy as if I wasn't already enjoying a grand view.

Oh, I still should have done this or that, but by then I was physically 
incapable of walking out of the room.  The smell of Kara's well-
exercised cunt struck me, literally, causing my knees to buckle.  I 
pitched forward, falling; fortunately the bed was between me and the 
floor.  And fortunately the spread of Kara's thighs was there to cushion 
my head.

Her pussy wasn't just inviting, it was an invitation.  I was raised by 
high standards of etiquette, so I decided to RSVP immediately.

I am not an unscrupulous person.  There were certainly some mighty moral 
issues to grapple with in regards to the situation.  I got all the 
grappling that needed doing out of the way in about two seconds flat.  
And then I parked my face between Kara's creamy thighs, darting my 
tongue out for my very first taste of her.

Her cunt was worse than a jumbo bag of Lay's potato chips.  But Kara 
didn't complain about the way I gorged.  Though after a head-crushing 
orgasm, she did pull my face up to hers, bathing me with sloppy kisses 
as my cock slid in to replace my tongue.

This is what happens.  

It went just like that.  I wasn't intent on penetration.  Hell, I was 
still half-heartedly grappling with the ethical consideration of having 
my face smeared with the juice of a pussy not my wife's.  But when Kara 
dragged me up the front of her, there was that slight bumping; then my 
cock glided effortlessly all the way up inside her.

Even Kara paused, surprised by this quick intrusion.  But then she 
pivoted her hips, tilting me down in even deeper as her legs spread 
wider, then bent down at the knees to cross against my back.

"Gotta hand it to the big guy, though," she laughed.  "Not only does he 
know exactly what he wants, he sure isn't shy about getting it."

I was startled by the lightness of her tone, but found it delightful and 
followed.  "What are you talking about?  I was just coming up to give 
you a little kiss," I slid out a little in approximation, "but then your 
cunt sucked me right up inside of you."  I thrust back firmly.

Kara swiveled her pelvis in answer, returning a pleasant gesture.  "I 
never said I was any different.  What Miss Pussy _wants_, Miss Pussy 
_gets_."  Her cunt squeezed and began milking my shaft, the muscles 
moving in inward ripplings, her cunt truly sucking my cock in deeper.  
She surrendered a chuckle, gazing directly into my eyes.  "There's no 
denying _that_.  There's no denying Miss Pussy and her needs.  Miss 
Pussy _wants_ to make big Mr. Cock feel _so-o good!_  So let's fuck like 
nuts, and let no one be the wiser."

Her final words rang like a clear bell.  I mean, I was in too deep to 
really salvage myself.  Things were past the stage of redemption.  _Oh, 
and by the way, honey, I fucked my cousin but it's okay:  I pulled out 
halfway through, cleaned up, and never got to come.  So . . . how about 
a blow-job for being such a good boy?  I promise I'll be real quiet._

But then Kara began rattling on like a long passage in a stream-of-
conscious novel.

"God, this is as good as that second time, that second summer when both 
our families were up here together.  Was that the very next year? or two 
or three later?  I forget exactly.  Except that I was so struck by you.  
And you barely noticed me.  Do you remember any of that part at all?  
For days I followed you around like a puppy dog.  I didn't even really 
know what I wanted.  It was like swooning over a cute boy on a t.v. 
show.  I was certainly used to _that_.  But this was so much more 
different.  My whole life was different, my whole body was changing.  
What was there about you?  I never made the connection.  Between you and 
why I was always so wet down there.  Why every night when I changed into 
my pajamas the crotch of my panties were so damp.  I thought I was 
starting.  Mom had given me _The Talk_, and I knew I would be _becoming 
a woman_ soon.  But there was never any blood.  It wasn't until Barb and 
Abby began teasing me about having hot pants for you that I finally 
understood.  The tingly feeling I kept having.  The _a woman secretes 
lubrication_ from health class.  

"But I know you remember that afternoon when we were all playing Capture 
The Flag.  And you slipped, then I tripped, and I landed on top of you.  
I kept lying there on top of you.  And then I started pressing myself 
ever so slightly against you.  Your eyes got so big, but not as big as 
your penis.  How you tried to cover yourself up when I finally scrambled 
off.  Your hard-on went away, but it came right back when the game was 
breaking up for dinner, when I trapped you behind that old maple tree in 
the side yard and snuck against you for that kiss.

"And _that_ night you will never forget.  How I managed to lure you into 
slipping out and joining me on the little back porch after everyone was 
asleep.  I sat out there waiting with an old blanket.  I was _so_ 
nervous.  I didn't believe you'd actually show.  And when you did, the 
sight of you had me instantly wet.  You knew what was going on and you 
were going to be so wise as to not let it happen.  But you didn't count 
on me.  I felt so _powerful_, seducing you and showing you my charms.  I 
_gave_ myself to you.  You took my cherry out on the back porch, 
staining the blanket for good.  At first it hurt, but soon it felt very 
nice indeed.  I won't pretend I had an orgasm that first time, but god I 
was nearly delirious when I felt you explode up inside me.    

"After that night, all the pain was over; there was nothing left ahead 
but pure pleasure.  I _pursued_ you, not that you were ever hard . . . 
except in the right place.  After having fucked my tight little pussy 
once, you couldn't get enough of me.  You were so easy.  Every chance we 
got, you crawled on top of me and I slid beneath you, like right now, 
fucking each other _crazy_."

Kara groaned her way through an enormous orgasm.  I was gritting my 
teeth trying to just hang on.  She quieted down for a few minutes with 
the big smile.  But quickly she got us going again.  Her cunt bunny-
fucking my cock.  There was no way I'd last to give her another blow-
out.  My lord!  And that was her m.o.  There were slim fingers between 
us, squeezing a ring around the base of my cock, a whole hand gripped 
down in the sticky jungle at our juncture.  Fingers juggling then 
stroking my balls.  A stray from who knows which hand tracing the rim of 
my anus, a circling motion begging further invitation.

My mind was a haze of genuine confusion as the moment stuttered, 
shifting between faux-past and present, slipping in and out of fiction.  
Kara certainly had me convinced.

She sure had exploded from the inside out, her cunt still rippling down 
then up my shaft.  I was what again?  Sixteen?  Just a step away from 
the sexual prime of my gender of this species.  What else could I do?

This is what happens.

My balls came to a sudden massive boil.  There was but the one release 
valve.

I began pumping what's known in legend and lore as a copious load into 
her waiting cunt.  

I was _churning_ that butter.

Kara held me belted in and there was no going but forward.  Humping her 
clit against my pelvis.  I had to be out of the special sauce for the 
moment, but tell that to my cock:  it was still jumping away inside her.  
By then, I was beginning to think she wouldn't make it.  Slamming my 
limpening self back up inside her, I was surprised to feel the squeal, 
the exhalation.  With a low moan sucking in air, Kara crested.  She 
crashed with abandon, her cunt rippling so violently the soft stub of my 
sex was quickly spat out.

We lay there like that, rolled on our sides face-to-face, giggling and 
touching at each other as the orgasmic edemas of our brains slowly 
subsided.

"So," I shrugged her a little smile as I let a finger trace the outline 
of hers.  "Did you . . . really?  Back then . . .  think about this?"

Kara snorted.  "Oh, get real!  I was what?  Maybe thirteen?  Maybe some 
girls are advanced for their age, but not me.  I hadn't even started my 
periods.  My tits were like a boy's.  All I knew about my pussy was what 
a weird way to have a pee-hole."

"Whatever the road, what a nice destination."

"Hmm!" Kara giggled.  "That was just my cunt talking.  Extemporaneously.  
Nice stuff, though, huh?"

"Can't argue that!" I rejoined.

We snuggled some more, Kara sort of humming against my neck.  Then she 
pulled her head back to look me fully in the face.

"Mmm, I certainly didn't expect to get laid on this trip.  And 
definitely not by such an expert cocksman," she grinned.

"Ohhh," I began modestly, honestly, leaving my commentary at that.  I 
could feel the blush creeping.  "If anything, I was, uhm, inspired."

"I mean it.  That was _grand_.  Let's do it again."

"We-ell, oka-ay," I tried to keep the future wide open.

"No, I mean like right now!"

I could help but agree with that.  At least technically.  There were 
those stupid physiological constraints that kept my response to just a 
smile.

"Oh _that_," she quickly guessed, cradling my sticky spent cock like a 
hatchling.  "No problem there," she gave a gentle squeeze.  Kara leaned 
in to whisper something in my ear.  Or so I thought.  The tip of her 
tongue danced on my earlobe, then darted out so fast and far I thought 
it'd come out my other ear.  She pulled away laughing, caressing the 
wilt of my bloom again.  "I'll take care of this situation.  I have a 
Miracle Mouth."

Kara really was attempting the impossible.  I wasn't some teenage buck 
with balls producing millions of sperm a minute.  Sure, I could remember 
suffering, throbbingly, through math classes in school so dull I should 
have fallen asleep, except there happened to be a girl sitting in front 
of me, a girl I didn't find at all attractive but who had washed her 
hair with a shampoo the scent of which fanned the flames in my brain.

Sure, I could remember that, but that was just memory.  While here I lay 
well past my sexual prime, thinking of my kids, thinking of her sister's 
kids, her sister and my sister and her sister's husband and my wife, my 
parents and hers, and how at any minute . . . 

Kara lifted her head, giving it a toss that didn't quite get the hair 
out of her face.  "I just love tasting myself on you.  The taste of me 
and you mixed together."

One plus one . . . it's the simplest arithmetic.  And by god I felt my 
extremities go numb as the blood concentrated itself elsewhere.

Even Kara got a surprised look, bent back down to work, suddenly finding 
her mouth absolutely filled with cock.

She sat back on her haunches looking terribly pleased.  "Time for more 
fucky-fuck."  She scooted up then practically jabbed me back inside of 
her.

She rode me at her leisure, gazing down at me with the smile of a saint 
transformed into marble.  She was Cleopatra, gliding along the Nile.  
Then she turned into a bitch, full flesh and of this age, teasing me, 
teasing my cock with her cunt.  Bringing me up just to let me down.

She allowed herself a long, voluptuous orgasm, then continued playing 
me.  But by then I was nearly delirious.  I hugged her hard down against 
me, and, before Kara could react, I rolled us over so that she was on 
her back again.

Kara's legs spread wide, but her eyes narrowed to slits.  "Fuck me hard, 
but _watch out_:  I _bite!_"

This is what happens.

I held her wrists down over her head as I fucked her.  I tried to 
smother her mouth with lips and tongue, but then she slipped to the side 
and tried to bite me.  She did bite me.  

So I bit her back.  Kara liked to be bitten almost as much as she liked 
to bite.  We snarled at one another as I started to slam in and out of 
her in earnest.  She got her hands free and then we were wild animals, 
rolling around the vast plain of the bed.  Her legs started out spread 
toes pointing to opposite heavens; now the toes still didn't agree, but 
her legs crossed at the calves, locking me against her.  Kara humped 
right back at me.  The sloppy wet slurping of sex against sex.  

The two of us banging away, steel striking against flint.  Then the 
spark that erupted as a supernova.  A double one.  While reeling between 
the spurts of my cock, I was vaguely aware of Kara screaming, the Grand 
Canyon echoing of a woman in the midst of complete pleasure.

Then we were like two tissues crumpled up into one ball.  The bed was so 
warm; Kara was so warm.  Kara was so soft; the bed was so soft.  Both 
Kara and her bed smelled so nice.  My brain chemicals were in an 
overload of the happy mode, and my eyelids were weighted with lead.

This is what happens.

Car doors started slamming, and I bolted awake, sitting upright.  Beside 
me, Kara's eyes opened dreamily.  Then she gave a little laugh.  "I'd 
say we'll be invaded in about two minutes.  Here I am, having a 
delicious little afternoon nap.  What about you?"

I was up and hopping around, trying to make my clothes work.  I stopped 
long enough to grab a corner of the sheet and try to mop myself up.  
Kara snaked over and gave my privates a little kiss right as I was 
getting my pants and underwear up.

"You still smell like pussy!" she declared.  Then she blew me a kiss, 
"Be a dear and pull my door closed when you leave, okay?"

I thought about rushing into the bathroom for a quick wash-up, but the 
front door was already opening when I got out in the hall.  I dashed the 
opposite way, and tip-toed down the disused back staircase.  I was 
coming out of the kitchen when the tribe came storming through the 
livingroom and diningroom.

Lydia came up for a kiss, which I turned instead into a hug, a quick 
peck through her mane of hair.  I didn't want her to catch a whiff of 
the lip gloss I was wearing.

She restrained me in the hug.  "Missed you.  So, is everything 
functioning properly?"

_Cellar_, I remembered after a half-skip.  "As, uh, as good as could be 
expected."

"Where's Kara?"

I about shat.

"Sneaky thing," she continued, "staying home.  No one noticed until we 
all got out of the cars."

"Oh yea," my mind whirled, "she was off reading or something, quieter 
than a mouse.  I had no clue--I thought I was alone--but then when I was 
making a sandwich, she suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway.  I 
about dropped of a heart attack!  Thought it was Grandma come back to 
fuss at me about something.  We had lunch together, then she went out.  
Came back and disappeared upstairs.  Reading or taking a nap, I 
suppose."

"What a splendid idea," Lydia replied.  "It's been an exhausting day.  
That's all the grown-ups have been talking about--a nap, that is.  The 
kids all know to park themselves in front of the t.v. while the adults 
rest for awhile.  And if they don't behave themselves, you won't be 
treating them to Lucky's for dinner."

I'd meant the meal to be a little more intimate than that.  But 
apparently the intimacies were to be performed before dinner.

Which left me in a panic, naturally enough.  Despite my efforts, Kara 
had been right:  my crotch was still so sticky it was a wonder the front 
of my pants weren't soaked through.  I cast a furtive glance down just 
to check.  I kept trying to get into the bathroom to freshen up after 
sex, but it kept being occupied by someone else freshening up before 
sex.  And of course I was busy coming up with a plausible excuse for my 
imminent impotence.  Because there wasn't a feminine charm in all the 
world that would stand me stiff again, not for awhile anyway.  About the 
last thing I needed in my life would be the end results of Lydia 
suddenly scrambling down to try to suck me to attention.

"Come on!" Lydia tugged at my hand as I lingered by the closed bathroom 
door on the way to our room.  "Time's a-wasting!  Don't worry about 
that; I'm a little sweaty myself, but who cares?  We're just going to 
get a lot more sweaty anyway."

Thus summoned, off to my execution I went.

Lydia preceded me into the room.  When I turned from latching and 
locking the door, she was standing over by the bed, her back to me, the 
sunshine through the sheers making her torso glow as she shed her shirt.  
She was just shimmying out of her shorts when a master plan struck me.  
Putting a spin on the old adage, I decided that the best defense was a 
great offense.  While she was still trapped at the ankles by her pants, 
I lunged for her, going to my knees as I gripped her tight around the 
thighs.  Ferociously I begin nipping and nibbling her rounded ass 
through the sunny yellow silk of her panties.

"What are you doing?!" she squealed in obvious delight.  "Can't wait?!  
Want it that much?!  Can't stand it?!  Need it right now?!"

I let her babble away with her exclamatory questions, then with a little 
lift tipped her over onto the bed.  She twisted and turned as I wrestled 
with her legs.  Finally I managed to get a lock around her legs, 
transferring them from the hold of both arms to just one, leaving me 
with a hand free.  Then, with one firm purchase on the waist of her 
panties, more than half the battle was done.  Like lightning my other 
arm let loose, grabbing the band at her other hip.  Before Lydia knew 
what was up I had her panties down past her knees, past those knobs of 
no return.

"So much for the need of foreplay," I heh-hehed, "if the crotch of these 
is any indication."

Lydia indeed had given up the fight, relaxing back into a position of 
total supplication.  Her legs fell wide apart, fully exposing the pouty 
arousal of her sex.  She just lay there like that, granting me a display 
like I hadn't seen for months.

_Get to work_, I reminded myself, methodically shucking my own clothes.

"God, you horny bastard, don't I even get a kiss first?"

_Excellent_ timing!  "But of course you do."  I began bending over her 
and she got a dreamy smile on her face, eyes closing, lips quavering at 
the edge, waiting for the touch of mine to force them to full pucker.  
But without mounting the bed I fell far short of the kiss she was 
expecting!

Lydia gasped, going wide-eyed as I gently kissed her cunt.  Any protest 
she might have been formulating melted away like butter, the creamy 
butter heated by lust that dribbled into my mouth as my tongue pushed 
past the swollen gates, inching up inside her eager pussy.   Deeply I 
lunged my tongue, feeling the flow of her tart juices slathering my 
lower face.  Then on up to feint with the treasure of her pleasure 
button.  My hands moved up around her hips to trace maddeningly light 
circles across her belly.  Her hands moved down, alternately stroking 
and gripping my forearms as her passions raged.

I licked Lydia to a resounding orgasm as I wondered what I could do 
about my cock.  With my face buried in Lydia's cunt, I began idly 
considering Kara's back porch fantasy.  I felt a bit dishonest--I felt 
like a total shitheel to be honest--but that did the trick.  When Lydia 
dragged me up over her, the pussy juice on my lips as we kissed was 
hers.  And though there were but bare drops of sperm in my balls, my 
cock was thick and stiff, sliding easily into her creamy snatch.  And 
then--third time's charm--I fucked her delirious.  In the pauses when I 
slowed down to tease her, the whole house echoed with a Greek chorus of 
shrieking bedsprings.

I thought of Kara, laying in her bed, fingers between her legs, 
listening to the creaking chorus.  With that image in mind, I shuddered, 
and groaned a great roar unrelated to the little dribble of spunk I shot 
up inside Lydia.

After a few minutes where she refused to let me move at all, Lydia 
finally slid us over onto our sides, a leg over mine keeping me firmly 
latched inside of her.  "You should oil my bedsprings more often, hmm?"

I tried to think of a witty rejoinder, but as I thought I drifted into 
unconsciousness.  It was a designated nap-time, after all.  Not that I 
was much aware of it at the moment, just that when I did wake back up, I 
noticed that she had joined me in this voluptuous slumber.

Lydia began to stir as I watched her sleep.  Though she was still on her 
side, latched against me, I had managed to complete the turn onto my 
back.

"Time to get up?" I asked her fluttering eyelids.  "Lucky's," I added as 
a reminder.

"Fuck me's?" she giggled.  "Fucky Lucky's.  Who needs it?  I've already 
had my fill of meat."

She brushed her thigh sensuously up and down, stopping with a mock-
quizzical look when the extremity of her arcing came to a nudge against 
my cock.  "_Mmmm_.  Not that I don't have room for _more_."

My erection was improbable--I suppose I had that advantage of having 
just woken up and in that usual state, and I did need to pee like crazy, 
but still!  But still, there I stood, tall and proud and practically 
scraping the paint off the ceiling.  And Lydia's hands were around it, 
squeezing it; pinching me--so to speak--so that I'd know I wasn't 
dreaming.  Then she rose and straddled me, her smile brimming as she 
sank me in to the rim.

There is such a thing as a well pumped dry.  But that doesn't keep the 
pump from working.  It only means that the pump overheats and explodes 
itself.  Lydia probably didn't get a spit of semen in her cunt, despite 
her efforts.  But explode I did, crying out as I was fucked to an 
intensity I'd never been fucked before.

Slowly, so slowly, Lydia lowered herself against me, the points of her 
breasts brushing heavily, knowingly, against my chest. 

"Did you just die and go to heaven?  Hmm?  I only ask because that's the 
way you look."

As if I was capable of the words to answer.

This is what happens.

I was in a daze for days.  I remember helping to go out and get a rental 
truck, and then another, even loading a few pieces of furniture.  
Arrangements were made with a greedy local realtor, and an auctioneer 
was called in to dispose of the furnishings left after we'd all 
scavenged what we wanted.  There were meals I ate, and nights I slept.  
I even got around to oiling the bedsprings, and kept waiting for Lydia 
to initiate a repeat of our commerce, but she didn't.  

In the meantime I avoided Kara as best I could, retaining my title of a 
regular family man.  The great dad always going somewhere or doing 
something with the kids.  But then she would catch my eye at breakfast, 
hers going dewy and to half-mast, and my cock would be nearly thumping 
the underside of the table like a bogus seance.

I certainly welcomed the pair of evenings out with the guys.  Not that 
we ever stayed out late or drank too much.  Nor that I particularly 
enjoyed the company.  The point for me was to be led away from 
temptation.  If this meant accompanying grown men for a night of serious 
bowling, so be it.  

At least that excursion involved Dad and Mr. Charme.  The final night it 
was just us boys, roaming the taverns downtown.  I'd call my brother-in-
law a moron, but that title was so thoroughly claimed by Bart, my . . . 
whatever you call your mother's cousin's daughter's husband--I certainly 
had no wish to be in the same hyphenated brotherhood with that loser.  

It was an odious evening.  Before our first round was half finished, the 
two of them were bragging and comparing what great fucks their wives 
were.  I did _not_ want to know.  Nor was I forthcoming on what a great 
fuck Lydia was, which kept the night's male-bonding glue from really 
setting.  

Then Bart turned to me, as if I had some authority on the matter, "So, I 
bet my sweet Barb was a hot little chick when she was younger, isn't 
that right?"

"Oh," I nodded my head, "I'm sure when she was fifteen she had her 
fifteen minutes."

His face was a slate of incomprehension.

"Sorry," I shrugged.  "Bad habit of mine:  paraphrasing Warhol."

Bart still didn't get it, but that didn't stop his look from turning 
darker.

So Hank jumped in, with a nasty tone, "Hey, Sally tells me you were 
always really mean to her when you guys were kids."

Oh great, I thought, a quarter of a century later, I'm going to get beat 
up for yanking out a hank of Sally's hair.

But then their focus turned to Kara.

"Fucking high-fashion lezbo, she is," Hank declared.

"No way," Bart argued, "but I bet she's one of those frigid bitches that 
just lays there and makes you do all the work.  And then tells you to go 
get her some kleenexes afterwards."

"Still . . . " Hank gave a tug at his belt.

"Oh yea . . . " Bart agreed, digging deep in his pockets.

I . . . really didn't think I should say a thing.  I turned my full 
attention to the tricky act of transferring the beverage from the bottle 
to my mouth.

Fortunately, _Guys-Go-Barhopping_ only lasted through a second round and 
a half-hearted discussion of going to a second bar.  Still, it took us 
_hours_ to reach that point.  I certainly wasn't sad when we left to go 
home.  The only real surprise was that the two thugs didn't jump me in 
the dark of the residential streets.

This is what happens.

It wasn't particularly late when we returned, but the rest of the house 
was asleep.  Hank and Bart tip-toed around as though it was four in the 
morning and the two of them were three sheets to the wind.

I snuck into our room and quietly stripped.  Lydia didn't even stir as I 
slipped into the bed beside her.  But god as I lifted the sheet was I 
ever greeted by a delicious warm mix of scents wafting off her.  Clean 
skin and expensive soaps, her shampoo-of-the-week, and that wholesome 
womanly scent of hers.  With just a hint of that tantalizing odor which 
always tells me when she's been having an especially sweet dream.  The 
rest of me was pretty sleepy, but my cock was suddenly wide-awake.

I gave it a thought, and a second thought, but with Lydia, when she's 
asleep, it's like trying to get a piece of the Rock.  I considered just 
sort of humping up against her bottom, and then I contemplated quietly 
jacking off, and then . . . and then . . . and then after maybe twenty 
minutes I was soft as a baby and swirling off to sleep . . . when I 
bolted awake.  I just wanted to go to sleep, I really didn't want to 
leave the snugly comfort of the bed.  But those two lousy bottles of 
beer had turned into a full keg in my bladder.  There would be no rest 
until I drained it off.

There wasn't the slightest interruption in Lydia's slow deep breathing 
as I snuck back out of bed.  Considering the hour, I didn't bother with 
any clothing.  And just as well:  it would have been such a bother.  I 
would have wound up wetting the floor.  Much easier to undress than get 
dressed in the dark.  

I shuffled my way in silence and darkness out of the room and down the 
hall.  Passing Grandma's--Kara's--room, I could see the door was ajar.  
Black as black and almost too quiet.  But that observation I knew was 
just my paranoia kicking back up.  Even so, I averted my eyes and kept 
moving towards the bathroom.  Once there, I gently closed the door--
carefully locking it--before turning on the light.

Of course, my horse-sized piss turned out to be a quick splash and a few 
dribbles.  Not nearly enough to risk waking the rest of the house with 
the roar of the toilet flushing.  So I returned to the door, unlocked it 
then turned off the light.  I waited for my eyes to adjust before 
opening the door.  

As I stood there in the dark, my mind started racing.  What was going 
on?  I felt forced out of bed for just _that_?  Christ, I should have a 
good thirty years ahead before I started having prostate trouble.  
Hadn't my full dance card last Sexday proven everything was in fine form 
down there?  Or had four loads in eight hours blown the whole damn 
gland?  But then again, hadn't I been ready and willing to snag some 
sneaky-piece off my sleeping wife not half an hour ago?  Finally one 
great truth clarified itself out of this cloud of nonsense:  I was a 
lunatic to be standing there at this hour in the darkened bathroom 
worrying about all that shit.

I opened the door and stepped out into the hall.  I took a few steps, my 
eyes adjusting to the different quality of darkness out there.

That was when I saw the ghost.  Oh lordy, what was keeping Grandma from 
her eternal rest? and why did it have to involve me?  The ghost of 
Grandma wasn't content to just waver; she began moving in my direction.  
And then she spoke.

"_Fucky-fuck?_"

Kara waltzed right up to me, invading my private space.  She stopped 
directly in front of me, her lips just inches from mine, nearly bumping 
my chest with her breasts.  Her pelvis swayed lightly against me.  
"Fucky-fuck?"

Her eyes laughed and danced and sparkled and did all those sorts of 
things that eyes aren't really capable of doing.

Then her pelvis melded with mine, rubbing up and down.  "_Fucky-fuck?_"  
She looked at me and gave her head a nod.

Her eyelids lowered to slits.  Kara reached around my waist and grabbed 
my ass, pulling me tightly against her, grinding out crotches together.  
"Fucky-fuck!" she nodded vociferously, "_right now!_"

She grabbed my hands and began walking backwards, pulling me along with 
her.  Her eyes never left mine, and yet she never made a false step, 
walking backwards, gliding us down the hall and into her room, across 
the floor until she came to the side of the bed.  She settled her rear 
down, and then began scooting herself towards the middle of the 
mattress.  The slack in our arms drew taut, but still she didn't release 
her hands' grip on mine.

Kara pulled me down on top of her, twining herself around me completely.  
That _mouth_, all over my mouth.  Lips slippery and tongues sliding, the 
bone clicking sound of teeth meeting teeth.  It was as though Kara was 
trying to prove that mouth-on-mouth was how humans had sex.  Kara was, 
indeed, like some sort of physical embodiment of the idea of sex.  As 
she seized at me, the pushing and pulsations of her mouth on mine, it 
seemed that her very breath reeked of cunt, that the saliva spilling 
across my face actually tasted of pussy juice.  That the sheen on her 
skin was cunt sauce oozing from her very pores.

I thought about pushing away from her greedy lips, moving my face down 
between her thighs . . . but why bother?  I could just lick wherever I 
pleased; her entire body was some sort of super attenuated clitoris.

And besides, she wouldn't let me go.  As we'd tussled around, she'd 
gotten my thighs locked between hers.  I of course had this arrogant 
stiff-spined alien sprouted from between my legs, who, given the 
confined space, was getting a bit impatient, battering his purple helmet 
against the slick soft ceiling of this earthly fleshy cavern where he 
was trapped.

We settled like that, moving slowly, the squirming of desperation 
subsiding.

"You know," I whispered, "this is just like a dream.  Excepy right about 
now--when I'm dreaming--I suddenly wind up alone in another room 
thinking, _Hey, wait a minute!  This isn't fair._"

"You're not dreaming," Kara cooed back.  She licked the tip of my nose, 
then ran her hands down my arms, all the way, from my shoulders to the 
grip my fingers had on her shoulders.  "And if you dare go off in 
another room right now . . . I guarantee you I will hunt you down and 
show you what's fair."

With that, Kara shifted her hips slightly, canted her pelvis, then gave 
a little thrust.  The first few inches of me were suddenly sunk up 
inside the delirious sensations of her cunt.

Her hands slid down to my ass, pulling me in even further.  "Do you have 
any idea what it means," she huffed, "when a woman wants a man?"

"_Show me!_" I managed to groan.

Kara's face broadened in smile.  "That's exactly what I intend to do."

"You're driving me crazy."

"Double ditto."

With that we settled into some of the most synchronized screwing I'd 
ever experienced.  We'd transcended ourselves and become Sexual 
Professionals.  It was all call-and-response.  Cunt crying for cock, 
cock crying for cunt.  And the both providing perfect satisfaction for 
the other.  I thrust into Kara, and her heard her gasp; then she thrust 
back upon me and made me gasp.  Throughout, we stared at each other, 
wide-eyed with disbelief, delight, our eyes finally closing as the 
convulsions of delirium swept across us both at once.    

I lay there, feeling spent and satisfied, sticky and sweet, sweaty and 
stuck to the warm soft stretch of heated flesh I held tightly against 
me.

Finally I sighed, "I suppose I better wash up and go back to bed soon."

I spoke into silence.  Kara's mouth stayed shut, though her body did 
stir, latching herself to me all the more firmly.

Timidly she began, sort of lapping at an earlobe of mine.

"You do that fucky-fuck very well, fine sir."

Her limbs began to function, the upper arm and legs sliding slow arches 
across my flesh.  Kara pulled my gaze to hers as her crotch started 
tapping at my thigh.

"That's quite a compliment," I grinned back, "coming from you."

"You must have graduated _magna cum load_ from _Fuck U._, isn't that 
right?" she hunched me harder.  "Sorry if I stripped you of your amateur 
status."

But then she relaxed.  Momentarily.  She shifted her body about.  Kara 
placed my hands on her breasts, said, "Squeeze me.  Make me even more 
juicy."  Her lips went to mine, her hair a tent around our heads.  Then 
her arms shot down rudely between us, her hands grappling with my 
equipment.  My flaccid cock and empty balls.  Kara handled them roughly, 
then lightly.

"What are you doing?" I finally broke.  "I mean, keep on doing what 
you're doing because it feels _great_, but, um, you know . . . don't get 
your hopes up."

Kara just kept smiling at me.  No she didn't.  Her smile broadened.

"Don't look so evil with that knowing smile," I hissed.

Kara bit her lip, then declared, "I know how to get it up anytime I want 
it."  With that she sat up on her heels.  Her left hand kept its grip on 
my cock throughout the contortions.  With that, Kara relaxed, slipping 
the index finger of her right hand right up inside her cunt.  She took a 
taste up to her tongue, declaring in our hushed vocabulary, "Mmmm!  
Sixty percent semen, forty percent pussy juice."  Then she twinned the 
fingers exploring her holy folds.

As if _all that_ wasn't enough, Kara turned and twisted, scooting down 
the bed until all I could reach of her was her head.  Her head that was 
swift to busy _giving_ head.

And then she stuck her finger up my ass.

So soon she had my cock standing gleaming, so stiff it nearly hurt.  
Kara straddled me, then paused.  "You said I drive you crazy.  _Now_ I'm 
going to _ride_ you in_sane_."

As she lowered herself down upon me, I quit breathing.  My whole body 
was aquiver, strung to the sensation as the taut plug at the tip of my 
cock pushed between the fat flushed lips of her cunt.

Kara's eyelids dropped to a sultry low.  "You can always wash up and go 
to bed later, _can't you?_"

I mumbled incoherently.

"Or would you like me to stop right now?" she asked, lifting herself 
nearly completely off my cock.

"_God no!_" I whimpered.

"Didn't think so," she grinned.

Then she began going up and down at no great speed, patiently riding her 
way to another orgasm.  Her eyes closed and a beatific smile spread 
across her face.  Kara looked for all the world as if she were at the 
fair, in the saddle, astride a pony on the slowest moving carousel.  The 
only thing missing was the pole, but then again she wasn't really 
missing the pole, it was just buried deep up inside her.  

I could feel her juices gush as the moment hit, the tightening around me 
as she held on to the glorified feeling sweeping her body.  Kara came 
quietly, and then nearly calmly she climbed off of me.  She turned 
around on her knees, lowering herself to her elbows, putting her 
Charme's charms on full display.  Her ass swayed lightly, invitingly, an 
incitement to further adventures.

I was on my knees and directly behind her in a flash, one hand spreading 
her slippery cunt lips as the other guided my cock back inside.  I sunk 
myself all the way in, then leaned down over her.  This was marvelous.  
I nibbled at the nape of her neck while my hands reached under and 
cupped her breasts; my palpitating hands the only barrier between her 
breasts and full gravity.

But really, this was an awkward position.  I straightened back up, still 
on my knees.  This enabled me to thrust into her all the more deeply.  
My hands gripped her hips, pulling her harder against me; my hands 
grasped the sides of her ass, squeezing those voluptuous pillows tight 
around me; my hands trailed up and down the wonderful lines of her back, 
completely delighting me.

"This is _so-o-o_ sexy," I goaded her, "the sight of you and me.  Me 
sliding into you.  You sucking me into you.  My cock, so thick and stiff 
because of you, shiny and slick with your sauce, while you kiss me with 
your cunt, the lips so puffy, glistening, oozing juices because of me."  
I reached beneath us and gave her clit a quick rub.  That was enough for 
Kara.

She came like a hurricane, squalling her sounds into the muffler of a 
pillow.  In doing so she pulled away from me, collapsing to the bed.  My 
cock popped out, and there I knelt.

Slowly she recovered, then rolled onto her back.  Kara looked up at me.  
"Come on down," she spread all her limbs, "come on down here and fuck me 
proper."

She wrapped herself all around me as I did just that.  Then Kara cooed 
in my ear, "This is for you, all for you.  In gratitude and 
appreciation."

With that understood, I began humping her in earnest.  I knew I didn't 
have long.  Kara had one hand cradling and fondling my balls, while the 
other squeezed a ring around the base of my cock.  She had her pelvis 
going back and forth, up and down, and round and round, all at once.  As 
well, she was giving her vaginal muscles a good work-out.  All the while 
she smiled up at me.  It was just minutes before I broke and burst, 
refilling her with seed.

I was still in my final throes when Kara rolled us over, managing to 
keep me inside her.  Then she raised her haunches and daintily lifted 
herself off me.  Running her hands from my shoulders down the sides of 
my ribs finally coming to rest on my hips, Kara moved back down the bed 
until her face once again hovered above my groin.

I groaned as she took my cock into her mouth.  "That won't work again," 
I gasped.  

Kara ignored my plea, sucking me for several minutes, then slurping all 
around the base of it.  Satisfied by her ministrations, she moved back 
up, lying on her side next to me.  She stroked my ankle with her foot, 
but that was the only point at which our bodies now touched.  Snuggling 
her head into the pillow, she looked at me with a smug smile.  "Would've 
if I'd wanted it to."

She reached down and gave my cock a brief, gentle pat.  "Okay, you're 
all clean; you can go back to wifey now."

I lay there for a few minutes absolutely stunned.  Then I moved to get 
up and collect my senses.

Kara had dozed off before I left the room.

This is what happens.

I stood at the sink and gave myself a thorough whore-bath.  Then I 
washed my face and brushed my teeth.  After a moment's consideration, I 
gave my genitals another good soaping.  Brushed my teeth again.  
Suddenly it felt like if I didn't pee immediately I'd suffer permanent 
kidney damage.  I stood there for hours it seemed, pissing gallons 
directly into the sink.  To rinse it away, I washed my hands, and cock, 
and face, then brushed my teeth again.

Only then did I dare exit the bathroom, retracing my original steps back 
down the hall to my own room.  My own bed.  My own woman.

As I got back under the covers, I thanked my lucky stars that Lydia was 
still solid with sleep.  She'd changed posture, but even more to my 
advantage:  on her side, at the far edge of the bed, facing away.  I 
settled in quietly, nearly in bliss, so eager for sleep to come and take 
me away.

I nearly died at the sound of a double groan--the first from Lydia, the 
second from the bed itself as she shifted and rolled over towards the 
middle of the mattress.  She gave a sigh; then I heard her lips smacking 
in the dark.  An even longer sigh, which turned into the two letters I 
didn't want to hear, "Hi?"

I responded with a tiny, sleepy sounding grunt. 

"Mmm, did you just get it in?"

I froze at her phrasing.  Maybe the _it_ I heard was her slurring out 
the final _t_ in _get_.  I relaxed, knowing that Lydia was still mostly 
asleep, and thus likely to be getting her words a little confused.

"Oh, just a little bit," I answered.

"Did you have a good time?" she asked.

"Not really, no, not at all."

"Mmm," her hand snaked under the covers to crawl up my hip, landing to 
tug me lightly in her direction.  "Then why don't you come over here and 
have a real good time?"

Her hand then reached for mine, pulling it along and down, placing it 
directly between her legs.  Her cunt was sopping wet!

Lydia was the gentlest drill-sergeant in all the world.  Nevertheless, 
my little private _jumped_ to attention.  As I rolled over on top of 
her, I could hear my balls grumbling among themselves, "_Jesus!_  Can't 
we get us transplanted to some guy who'll give us a little rest now and 
then?!"

I knew I was going to be in bad shape in the morning.  But in a very 
good sort of way.

This is what happens.

It was great to finally be back home.  Safe in my own place.  Though the 
images, the ecstasy, indeed even the smell of Kara still danced in my 
brain, I was relieved to be away from the danger of it all.  Wild, 
carnal, nearly carnivorous sex is one thing, but however grateful I was 
to Kara, I was sensible enough--in the afterglow of hindsight--to not 
want my comfortable, familiar life destroyed over it.  I mean, that sort 
of sex is common enough in the beginning of things, but nearly 
invariably it pales into a more civilized, refined type of lovemaking as 
time stomps on.

The major point being, of course, I kept emphasizing to myself, was that 
if Kara and I had been discovered, she'd still be, at this very moment, 
miles above in the sky.  My life would lie in ruins, while Kara returned 
to hers intact, across the International Dateline, thousands of miles 
away, across the greatest ocean on the planet.  A bit too far for my 
mangled heart to swim.

I gave great breaths of relief in the quiet late-night dark of my house, 
moving the manageable booty from our trip into the house from the 
garage.  Happy as a clam in its shell was I.

The boys, overtired and up too late, finally managed into bed by Lydia.  
An exhausting task for her, I was sure.  It was no great surprise when 
she never returned downstairs.  I'd find her sweet slumbering form in 
our bed when I finished up for the night.  My lovely wife.

There was a small fragile cherrywood secretary I wanted to put in its 
perfect location in the front hall before I went to sleep.  The bottom 
half of it looked grand; I went back into the garage to get the top, 
thinking how pleased Lydia would be to find it standing down there at 
the bottom of the stairs in the morning.  As well, I formed a mental 
calendar, trying to figure out how soon there might be an uninterrupted 
hour or two so that I might find myself between the legs of that 
wonderful woman.

One, two, three days, I thought, fitting the secretary together.  Then I 
ambled around, locking up and turning off lights.  But Saturdays were 
usually so busy.  I climbed the stairs in the darkness.  Maybe Sunday, I 
thought, turning into the bathroom.  Lock the boys out in the backyard 
for an hour or two in the afternoon.  I brushed my teeth and washed up.  
I stripped and tossed all my clothes in the hamper.  Damn!  Maybe if I 
snuggled up against Lydia, I might be able to wake her, perhaps rouse 
her into the mood and then . . . _naw-w-w_.  No way.  A pity there.  I 
turned off the light and left the bathroom, heading down the darkened 
hall to our room.

Almost immediately I bumped into something.  I was still a bit blinded 
from the light above the sink, but the something was very soft and 
bumped me back.  I took a few quick steps in the opposite direction.

"_Fucky-fuck?_"

I stood there paralyzed, my vision adjusting in the pause.

Lydia waltzed right up to me, invading my private space.  She stopped 
directly in front of me, her lips just inches from mine, nearly bumping 
my chest with her breasts.  Her pelvis swayed lightly against me.  
"Fucky-fuck?"

Her eyes laughed and danced and sparkled and did all those sorts of 
things that eyes aren't really capable of doing.

Then her pelvis melded with mine, rubbing up and down.  "_Fucky-fuck?_"  
She looked at me and gave her head a nod.

Her eyelids lowered to slits.  Lydia reached around my waist and grabbed 
my ass, pulling me tightly against her, grinding out crotches together.  
"Fucky-fuck!" she nodded vociferously, "_right now!_"

My heart was, naturally enough, dropped to the floor like a foot along 
with my stomach, making of me a quadruped of apprehension.

"Your cousin's quite the little vixen, isn't she?" Lydia finally spoke.  
Her crotch nudged mine in a friendly sort of way.  "Don't worry . . . 
I'm not angry."  She paused a breath.  "What right do I have?  After all 
.. . . Kara had me as well."

My jaw was all I had left to drop.  My penis, in protest, jutted towards 
the heavens.

"She found time to be alone with me, too.  And used that same _Oops, you 
caught me masturbating_ trick.  A big surprise for me.  _I've_ never had 
a _woman_ sucking away between _my_ legs."  Lydia's breath was hot on my 
mouth.  "I liked it.  A _lot!_  So much that my tongue explored every 
place that yours did."

My lungs heaved a great big sigh.

"Oh," she continued, "did I mention that the boys are going away to camp 
for several weeks later this summer?"

She hadn't.

"And did Kara happen to mention that she has a few weeks of vacation 
time she needs to use up by around that time?"

Again, no.

Lydia gave my cock a squeeze, then turned, returning down the hall to 
our bedroom.  She looked back over her shoulder as she sent an extra 
twitch to the swaying of her ass.  "Fucky-fuck?"

_Right now!_ I scampered after her.

This is what happens.  

I tore after Lydia's sweet ass; we made it into our room but she made it 
nowhere near the bed.  I lunged and snagged her legs, and as we tumbled 
to the carpet my face wound way up between her thighs.  My tongue was 
all over her cunt in seconds, my wetness lapping up hers.

Lydia was egging me on, "Yea, yea baby, oh that's so-o good, whoa shit, 
this is like having Kara between my legs, only better.  Mmmmm! oh my!  
Geez, you gotta get her down there with you sometime and give her a 
couple pointers."

There I was, licking and sucking my wife to a devastating series of 
orgasms, and having a wonderful time of it.  Yet at the same time I was 
thinking about how Lydia had busted me on Kara, and wondering why--
because I didn't really believe her--she'd chosen to accept it couched 
in terms of an affair herself.  I didn't believe that she and Kara had 
actually done the deed.  When would they have found the time?

When her thighs were relaxed enough to let me go, Lydia pulled me up 
until our faces were level, my cock sort of tapping against her cunt.  
She ground my mouth against hers.  Pretty soon, her mouth started 
tasting like cunt.  Her smothering lips so female.  And that exact taste 
upon them.  

Déjà vu _flared_.

"So _you're_ why her mouth tasted like cunt that night?  You listened in 
on the whole hallway scene?  You watched us fuck!"

Lydia smiled big, bigger, biggest.  "You thought I was making all that 
up!  Come on," she wriggled beneath me.  "The women get lonely when all 
the men go off to the bars.  And when the boys are away, the girls will 
play."

She reached between us, slinking down, grabbing my cock two-fisted, 
jacking it slowly while rubbing the head against the plump waiting 
wetness of her pussy lips.  "Though when the boy's around, the girls 
would love him to pound."

On that thought, she slipped the plum of me inside her, then let her 
arms steal away to reach around my back and cross, crushing me hard 
against her.

I glided in effortlessly.
  

=========================
Like? Yes? No? Comments welcome. losgud@hotmail.com
=========================
I am archived at DejaNews under "Author" name:  LUSHGOD@HOTNOMAIL.COM



-- 
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> |
| Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>


