mature xxx

My warm-hearted husband has always had a habit of picking up strays. I suppose that’s one of the endearing things that attracted me to Donny in the first place. However, throughout the past 30-plus years, I can’t count all the wayward dogs, cats, and even rabbits he “adopted” and I ended up nursing back to health. Thank goodness we were lucky to eventually find loving homes for these lost souls, or our house would resemble a zoo. Now that we’re in our fifties, and basically empty-nesting, I figure my days of playing Florence Nightingale to his Father Flanagan were over. Apparently I figured wrong.

“Come on Honey, it’s one thing to provide shelter to some kitten or puppy, there’s no way I’m going to take in a full-grown stranger,” I replied emphatically, after taking a sip of hot coffee.

“I know I’m asking a lot Barb, but we do have that spare bedroom, and it’s not like he’ll be here forever. Once he gets on his feet… hey, the least you can do is meet him; then maybe you’ll understand,” Donny pleaded.

Sitting out on the back deck, still in my low cut lacy nightgown under a long terrycloth bathrobe, I stared out across the long back yard and ten acres of mature trees. A brisk early October morning breeze swept through me. Clutching my elbows to buffer the chill, I bargained. “Okay, okay, you can bring him by the house sometime; but that doesn’t mean I’m saying yes to this,” I reluctantly relented.

“Great! I’ll go get him!” Donny shouted and headed back in the house.

“What? You mean he’s HERE? Not now, I look a mess,” I said, knowing full well my hubby was prone to pulling such stunts.

“You look just great. We’ll be right in.” I heard his voice trail off, as he trotted off through the house.

I barely had time to check the mirror, before Donny’s truck door slammed. Pouring another cup of coffee, I looked up to see his latest stray, and boy was he a big one. The bearded, scraggly-haired, overweight boy in his early twenties appeared older, as he warily raised his eyes through thick dark horned-rimmed glasses.

“Honey, this is Ben. Ben, this is Barb,” Donny introduced. I made my way toward them, clutched the neck of my robe, smiled and extended my hand.

“Hi Ben, nice to meet you,” I smiled up at the extremely shy, six foot tall stranger.

“Say hello Ben,” Donny prompted, hearing no response from the youngster.

“Hi Missus…” he slowly began.

“Oh, call me Barb; everybody does. No need to be formal around here.” I brought my smile to a grin, detecting the inkling of a smile from him.

“N-nice to meet you Barb,” he finally got out and comfortably shook my hand.

“Okay then, how about some nice fresh coffee?” I suggested, pulling my hand from his.

The boy’s smile broadened a bit. He nodded. The two guys took seats at the kitchen table, while I turned to get cups. Returning with the coffee pot, I hadn’t noticed my robe had opened, giving them a nice long view of my cleavage as I poured.

“Those are hot now, don’t burn yourselves,” I warned, then catching sight of their eyes glued to my chest, I realized the double connotation.

Suddenly embarrassed by inadvertently displaying myself, I turned my back to them and cinched up my robe. “So Donny tells me you’re doing some work for him…” I said, sitting across from them, folding my arms, and sipping my coffee.

The next half hour was spent prying Ben’s sad story from him. He lost his family in an auto accident, when he was a junior in high school. After his aunt and uncle took him in, he graduated, and has been living on his own since. Judging from his shabby appearance, I guessed he suffered from poor social skills, and limited experience with girls. Although he was socially ‘challenged’, he seemed to relax more, as we continued to talk.

He ragged appearance and introvert tendencies were two hurdles I knew he could overcome with a bit of help. Whether or not we could affect his lack of self esteem was a concern. However, after chatting with the less-than-attractive, but intelligent young man, I could see why Donny felt inclined to offer him a place to stay.

Hubby and I excused ourselves into the next room. Following a short private pow-wow, we agreed on some basic ground rules. “I’m mostly concerned about the privacy thing, Honey,” I admitted.

“Sure, I’ll make sure he knows to keep his distance from our bedroom, bath and stuff; that’s if you can keep from showing him your big tits,” Donny laughed.

“Hey, that wasn’t MY fault… oh forget it, you asshole!” I shook my head.

“Wow, this place is so nice and huge, compared to my apartment! I really DO appreciate this, Missus …, I mean Barb,” Ben’s face lit up, as he hauled two huge oversized duffle bags to our spare bedroom on the second level, and just down the hall from our master suite.

“Here’s a nice big bathroom Ben. Don’t be afraid to use it,” I smiled but made the comment with all sincerity.

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Our bedroom is down the hall,” I noted, more-or-less restating the section of our two-story house that was to be considered off limits.

He nodded. I explained more details about our schedules, and some minor things we expected from him. He was quite agreeable and seemed virtually thrilled to have the opportunity to stay with us.

*******************

Betty Lou Who?

After only a couple of weeks, I started to notice changes in the boy. When he and Donny were not at work, Ben spent most of his free time fixing things, and helping with household chores. He was bathing and eating healthy meals regularly, which improved his quiet demeanor dramatically. I determined that improving on his appearance might be the greatest challenge.

After dinner one evening I stopped by his room. I knocked on his door. After hearing some paper shuffling, he answered the door and let me in.

“So Ben, I was thinking,” I started and noticed the covers askew on his otherwise neatly made bed. Sauntering to the bed to sit down, I smoothed down a raised edge. “WE were thinking actually… have you ever given any thought to attending college?”

“Sure, I’ve thought about it plenty. That’s one of those things at the top of my list, once I can afford it,” Ben admitted, glancing down at the ruffled bedspread.

“I believe you could possibly qualify for financial aid, if that would make a difference.”

“Hmm, I should check that out. I only hope I’m smart enough to…”

“We’re not talking Harvard here! Anybody should be able to get through Tech. Besides, I can tutor you, if you need some help,” I offered.

“Damn, that’s right, you used to teach didn’t you Barb? That would be cool. I’ll have to check out registration and stuff tomorrow after work.”

“Great! I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Let me know what you find out,” I smiled and left his room, feeling glad he was excited about the idea.

The following day was wash day. With Ben gone, I headed upstairs to pick up any dirty clothes. I decided to strip the beds and Ben’s room was next. Pulling the sheets off his bed, I noticed the edge of a magazine shoved under the mattress. My memory flashed to yesterday’s conversation and Ben’s awkward glance at the bedspread. After already raising a son, I figured the magazine would be the typical girlie variety. Boys will be boys. Once I pulled it out, I was somewhat reassured in my estimate. What surprised me was the title, ‘Mature Bra Busters.’

The thought of a twenty-two year old male getting his jollies from a magazine full of golden oldies freaked me out at first. Then I felt a strange sense of pride, as I thumbed through the worn pages. I noticed one particular spread featuring a 52-year-old woman in various stages of undress. Although her (probably dyed) blonde hair was a bit longer, her body shape bore an uncanny resemblance to mine. Reading the accompanying - obviously fictitious - article, it was interesting to note that “Betty Lou” wore a 34-DD bra. It was even more interesting to note that someone (Ben) had underlined the size. Since my bra size was identical, how coincidental was that? “Better stop letting him help with that part of the laundry,” I resolved.

Turning the page, there was Betty Lou in all her glorious nudity, spreading her legs to prove she truly was a blonde. With a sense of cynical interest, I read more of the article… “Betty - her name inked out, replaced with BARB - likes nude sunbathing on her boyfriend’s boat and screwing two guys at once…” “God, who writes this crap? And he changed her name to BARB. Oh, my God!” Now I WAS embarrassed. I was clearly the object of the boy’s fantasies.

Stuffing the magazine quickly back under the mattress, I collected the sheets and headed downstairs to finish the wash. “Just shake those thoughts out of your head, you fool!” I said to myself. “All boys have their fantasies. It’s harmless,” I reckoned, trying to dismiss any further vulgar images.

From behind me, I heard the back door, “Barb, you were right. Tech accepted my application!” Ben yelled over the drone of the washer.

“Hey, there ya go Ben. Good job!” I shared in his enthusiasm, putting whatever fantasies he might have for me on a back burner.

“Yeah, I start night classes next week. I’ve got a counselor, books and a schedule. Now all I have to do is get smart,” his eyes rolled.

“I’m so proud of you. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble with these courses,” I stated, scanning his schedule, while clamping a motherly squeeze on his upper arm.

“Not as long as I have your help?” Ben’s eyes pleaded.

“I said I would help, and I will, okay?” I responded and wrapped my arms around him in a full hug. Pressing my chest into his, I felt his strong arms wrap around me. His warm hands moved gently to pull me closer. I backed away, with his hands still around my waist. He smiled and nodded, before letting me break away.

“Damn, I wasn’t here to help with the laundry. Did you find everything okay?” Ben asked.

“Sure, no problem. I decided to wash sheets too.”

“Oh, okay,” Ben acknowledged, before his eyes shifted toward the stairs.

Telling my husband about finding the seedy magazine would only serve to confuse him. Besides, there was something harmless and tender about the boy. I decided to keep that bit of information to myself, for the time being.

****************

Ugly Ducklings

I spent the following few weeks dedicated to cleaning up things outside. Bundling up for the approaching winter, I made my way through a glade of trees that led to our pond. “You gonna need some help Barb?” I heard Ben yell from the house.

“Always! And bring some twine with you,” I hollered back.

Stacking the debris from dead trees and brush around the pond, I caught sight of Ben heading my way with a roll of twine.

“I thought you had a bunch of homework this weekend. No need to help with this stuff.”

“Guess I just needed a break. But, if you’d rather do it yourself…” Ben smiled, exhaling gusts of billowing white steam.

“Don’t be silly. Damn, but it’s cold out here! You can wrap that one over there. I’ll start another stack here,” I advised and slapped my arms to keep warm.

Ben wrapped that stack and was tying up another bundle, when I saw a small group of mud ducks taking a water break. Tapping Ben on the shoulder, I pointed in their direction not far from us. The two of us watched as the younger ducks dutifully followed their mother.

“Now that’s one ugly duck,” Ben commented, at seeing a smaller duck who appeared to be the runt of the litter.

“Oh, I think they’re cute,” I remarked, now shivering.

Finishing up the tie job, he noticed my uncontrollable shaking and put his arm around me for shelter. “You women are all alike. C’mon now, that’s one ugly duck!”

“He may s-seem that way right now, but s-someday…” My teeth chattered.

“Right, I remember the story. Unfortunately, we don’t have time to watch the transformation, and besides it’s a mud duck. He won’t get much better looking. You’re freezin’ girl! Better get you back to the house NOW!”

A stiff northeast wind bore down on us, as we fast walked/ran back to the house. Slamming the door behind us, Ben looked on as I stood frozen solid. “G-GOD, I can’t move.” I said, as he took his parka off.

“Here, take that off and I’ll fix the fire,” he commanded, pealing off my heavy coat, cap and gloves.

“The ducks… that o-one ugly d-duck…” I started, trying to shift my brain from the pain in my stiff joints. “You just w-watch and see! One d-day…”

“Damn, would you just stop with the fucking ducks!” Ben rekindled the fire.

Coming back to me, he cupped my pale face in the warmth of his large hands. I felt the blood instantly return to my cheeks, while his gentle touch caressed me. Our eyes locked together for an eternity. His index fingers worked under my ear lobes. Then the slightest hint of his hands pulling me forward broke the spell. I averted my eyes from his and pulled away.

“Not for this ugly duck,” I heard him mumble, as I turned away.

“What did you say, Ben?” I asked.

“Nothing, just talking to myself,” he brushed off, lowered his head, and went back to stoking the fire.

I shuffled off to the kitchen to set us up with a pair of hot chocolates, and nothing else was said about ugly ducks. I knew he must have mistaken my brushing him off as a blow to his ego. If he really knew why I retreated from any further advances; that I was becoming attracted to him, perhaps that might have made a difference. If he knew this was my problem and not his? No, he didn’t need to know that.

Funny thing is, from then on, he underwent more obvious physical changes. The young man’s household routine started to include time on the treadmill and working out with Donny’s weights. He started eating less at meals, and virtually cut out colas, which had been his major addiction. Ben was trimming down, beefing up, and basically evolving into quite a stud.

Once they develop a mind-set, kids are amazing! In only a month’s time, Ben’s transformation was well underway. His once flabby overstocked belly and ass tightened up nicely, while his upper body grew thick with muscles. Except for the unmanageable hair, scraggly beard and horn-rimmed glasses, I would never have recognized him as the same twenty-two-year-old.

Considering that I might have been somewhat of a catalyst in such an impressive transformation, I was secretly proud of contributing to his makeover. Since I hadn’t verbalized my part in Ben’s new body, Donny (the Savior of Strays) gloated at what he thought was his casual influence.

“Old Ben’s sure coming around, don’t ya think?” My husband boasted during dinner.

“How’s that?” I played along.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how trim he’s getting?”

“Oh that, yeah I guess he is,” I replied, with a subdued smirk.

“Well, it’s all my doing, you know. I told him to shape up, if he ever wanted a chance with the ladies,” Donny stated, like repeating some ancient proverb.

“Hmm, and which ladies would that be?”

“Maybe the little honey I have him set up with this Friday night.”

“Oh really! And, who’s the lucky girl?”

“Her name is Alicia. She’s this cute little blonde receptionist that works for Watson Construction,” Donny said between bites.

“You keep saying how little she is. She’s not vertically challenged, I hope.”

“NO. She’s just petite, you know, about Meg’s size,” Hubby added, referring to our daughter. “Just a sweet girl – always bubbling about something or other,” he added.

“So, just because this sweet little bubble head has a crush on you, you think she’ll be interested in Ben,” I poked him.

“I never said she has a crush… geez, the girl is like twenty-one. She and Ben will have a great time… I think. I mean, you can never tell about these things. Who knows?” Donny shrugged.

“Well I’m sure Ben will give us an accurate play-by-play,” I smiled.

“Better than that; we’re making it a foursome. We get to watch!”

“Hmm, thanks for letting me know. God Donny, you never cease to amaze me,” I said, shaking my head. “And where do you - I mean WE - plan on taking these kids?”

“Dinner and dancing, whatcha think?” He suggested.

“Okay, and how fancy a place, so I know how to dress,” I prodded him.

After rattling off all the restaurants in town, we decided Grig’s Steak House & Lounge would be our best shot for having a fun night with a pair of kids thirty years younger than us. The food was good and the adjoining lounge had dancing. Dress was high-casual to low-formal, meaning we could pretty much wear anything halfway decent, without being stuffy.

Thursday, before the big Friday, offered a pleasant surprise; and I did have to thank my hubby for this one. He treated Ben to an early date with his barber. “Oh my Lord, what do we have HERE!” I said, almost in shock. “The barber must have had a field day with you!” I exclaimed, seeing Ben for the first time with short hair and a clean-shaven face.

“I think he butchered me,” Ben grunted.

“Nonsense, it looks great, Ben. Just look at you… you STUD!” I exclaimed, dragging him to the hall mirror. “See, just enough hair for Alicia to run her hands through, when you make your play for her,” I said, running my fingers through his shortened locks for effect.

“Right, I’m sure. I haven’t even met the girl.” Ben blushed.

Judging from his previously hidden pot marked complexion, I assumed the beard was more a practical than cosmetic decision. I’m sure he felt uncovered and quite self-conscious, as his reclusive body language indicated.

“You may not believe me, but I DO know exactly what you’re going through,” I empathized.

“You’re right Barb, I don’t believe you.”

“I was a bit younger than you, when my face was ravaged with acne. My mom was always hauling me off somewhere to visit another dermatologist. This was long before they have all the fancy meds they have today. Basically, nothing seemed to work,” I recalled.

“What did you do? I mean, you look… you’re beautiful,” Ben wondered.

“Yeah well, just don’t look too close. I still carry a couple of deep scars, and makeup does wonders. No, actually I just got older. I think I was about twenty-five when things started to finally simmer down. I also believe a positive attitude might have helped.”

“Telling me I should be happy about myself, and just forget what others say?” Ben recited something somebody must have offered years ago.

“Not exactly. Instead of wasting my time with that superficial bullshit, I just spent more of my energy on developing a captivating personality and a killer figure,” I laughed.

“Well it worked for you; that’s for sure. You’re a God damn knockout!” Ben’s eyes lit up.

“You goof, I was just kidding… but I’ll take the compliment,” I said, softly running the back of my hand against his cratered face.

“So, you got this whole date thing figured out?” Donny asked, downing his second beer, as he entered the family room.

“Sure,” Ben started, “First, we get her liquored to the max, and then I take the bag off my head and screw her ’til she falls madly in love with me –how’s that sound?”

“GREAT Ben, sounds like a plan to me,” Donny laughed and slapped him on the back. “Just remember lift off is seven o’clock, at least that’s the time I told Alicia we’d pick her up,” my hubby reminded, before sinking into his recliner.

As Donny became instantly engaged in whatever was on the tube, I could see Ben was anything but settled on the subject. I left for the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee. Heading toward the deck, I motioned for Ben to join me.

“Ben, will this be your first real date?” I asked, after we had sipped our coffee in silence for several long minutes.
He quickly shot me an expression of disbelief, that I could ask such a thing, before lowering his head to a slow nod. “And you’re nervous about that, or that it’s a blind date?”

“Both, I guess,” Ben quietly admitted.

“Well, since I have no real clue about this Alicia girl, I can’t guarantee how you two will hit it off. However, from what Donny says, she’s been around. That’s a good thing.”

“I hope you’re right. I can deal with being an ugly klutz, but I don’t want to embarrass you guys,” Ben said.

“Now stop that talk. You’re neither ugly nor a klutz. You are going to have a great time. Once you sweep her away with your charms, she’ll be dieing to be in your arms,” I reassured him.

“You think so Barb?”

“I guarantee it!” I promised and gave his hand a long, healthy squeeze.

****************

First Date: Play Ball!

It was slightly before 7:00 pm when we arrived at the girl’s house across town. Not wishing to detract from how I figured she would dress, I wore a simple skirt, blouse and sweater combination – kind of preppy for me. I needn’t have worried, the petite blonde was perfectly decked out for a night on the town. A night on the town, in New York City! The focal point of her diamond-studded belly button was set off by a revealing top that appeared to be painted on. Her super-low hip hugging jean skirt – I figured would have looked good on a twelve-year-old – just barely covered her ass crack. I didn’t get a peak at her elevated glimmer pumps, until we got to Grig’s Steak House.

The guys seemed impressed, and I guess that’s what it’s all about. As she sat in the back seat with Ben, cracking her gum and chattering on and on about her many job responsibilities, Ben barely got a word in edgewise – never mind making a play for her. However, miracles do happen. Give it some time, I thought..

Once we were seated for dinner, my belief in miracles went up in a poof of smoke. Feeling the effects of her first drink, she began hitting on my husband. What started as simply discussing things they had in common on the job soon escalated to comparing favorite colors, movies, and what is/isn’t sexy. Not that Donny and I are opposed to a little extra-curricular flirting, but this was a bit over the top. I felt like I was a hundred years old, while I’m sure Ben must have thought he was too slow to play catch up. We both sat quietly and watched the Donny and Alicia relationship flourish.

When we finished the longest meal ever, I grabbed Donny to pull him aside. Alicia bounced off to the ladies room, while Ben found us a table in the dancing side of the club.

“Alicia’s quite the spark plug, isn’t she?” I contained myself.

“Man, she’s fired up tonight!” Donny remarked with a smile.

“Yeah, and she’s aiming for you!”

“What? Oh, get serious. She’s just nervous being around new people, don’t ya think?”

“Babe, there’s not a nervous bone in her spindly little body. She hasn’t once acknowledged that Ben even exists, when she’s coming on to you like gangbusters.”

“Oh, you’re just jealous. Wait ’til we do some dancing and she feels more relaxed around him,” Donny insisted.

“Boy, I can’t wait to see her relaxed,” I chided and left him to find Ben.

Hubby and I found Ben sitting alone in a dark booth. “Where’s…” I began, when Ben interrupted.

“Little Miss Electric? She’s over there with the DJ,” Ben smiled sarcastically.

“You need to hit on that firecracker Ben,” Donny advised, before heading to the bar to place our order.

“Yeah right. She’s just my type,” Ben shook his head.

“Ben, I’m so sorry about this,” I apologized.

“It’s not your fault, or Donny’s. Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it,” Ben courageously smiled, tearing the label off his bottled beer.

My husband had just enough time to deliver our drinks, when darling Alicia slid across the dance floor to grab him. Ben and I sat back in the booth and enjoyed our drinks, as Donny and Alicia slowly melted into the crowded dance floor. We lost sight of them after a few upbeat songs and I resigned myself to refocus my attention on Ben.

Once Ben confided that he had never danced, I made it my task to break him in. “Oh come on Ben, it’s a slow one. Trust me; I won’t attack you,” I prodded him, pulling him up from the booth. He reluctantly but respectfully responded.

I had him wrap his long arm around my waist, as I took his other hand in the traditional posture. He had absolutely no clue what to do with his feet, as I tried to guide him through a simple box step. His first time clumsiness, though cute and endearing, left him feeling tense and nervous. Glancing around at the other partners dancing in full out embraces, I determined that approach might help him relax.

“Here, put both your arms around me. Don’t move, just pull me close,” I whispered, letting my arms encircle his neck. “There now, isn’t that better?” I smiled up at him. He returned the smile and nodded. “Closer Honey,” I urged. Turning my head to rest on his shoulder, I felt his hands and fingers pull my body close to his. I wished I had worn my taller heels, when he brought his pelvis to meet mine. As it was, I raised up tip-toed, when Ben’s warm hand settled in my lower back. Locked in a full embrace, we stood motionless.

“Mmm, this feels good. Are we dancing?” Ben asked.

“Not quite, I think a certain amount of movement is required,” I suggested, feeling the bulge of his package taking shape.

“You’re probably right,” he observed, but remained still.

“Maybe this will help,” I said, and began moving my hips next to his. His hands dropped to rest on my hips, as I accentuated the movement. The tear-jerking ballad droned on, as I stepped up the action down below. Rolling my hips in broad strokes against his, I felt the distinctive formation of his erection.

“Well, that seems to help,” he said. “At least one of us knows how to move,” he added, pleased with the result.

“I’m not the only one moving, Silly,” I laughed. Leaning my upper half back a bit to check his reaction, I ground my pelvis solidly against his hardon.

When he returned a blush, I shook my chest against him, and threw my head back for a laugh. “You’re quite the tease, aren’t you?” Ben countered and yanked my hips tightly against his crotch. His right hand fell from my hip to just above my ass. His legs, bent at the knees, mimicked my movements. Without regard to the rest of the dancers, he lowered and raised his pelvis, forcibly running the entire length of his cock against my mons. I rolled with his lurid dirty dancing for quite some time, until I felt his lips on my neck.

“My my, see what a dancer you are!” I exclaimed and pushed away from his emerging hormones.

“I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?” He feigned another blush, as I felt his left hand worm its way inside the back of my knit sweater.

“No, just getting a little warm in here, don’t ya think.”

“Yeah, down right HOT, if you ask me,” he said, letting his hand explore more of the cotton fabric of my blouse. Looking up into his dark brown eyes, I felt my pussy twinge.

The DJ, not wanting to loose the crowded dance floor, segued into another slow, sexy R&B ballad. For fear that I had come on too strong, I stopped swaying my hips. Ben didn’t. Feeling his hand lovingly caressing my back, and the length of his sizable boner pulsing against me, my juices started flowing. In spite of myself, I was succumbing to the warmth and wonder of his seduction. It was so “high school,” and so delightfully wrong at the same time.

By the time I felt someone tapping on Ben’s shoulder, I knew the crotch of my panties had to be saturated. Ben’s hand made a quick retreat from under my sweater. I unlocked my fingers from around his neck, and suddenly found myself in the arms of my husband.

“Having a good time?” Donny winked, as I sneaked a peak at Ben making his way back to our table.

“Me? Sure, and it appears you’re having one as well,” I winked back, as Donny’s familiar hands and body nestled into mine. “Having a mighty good time, I’d say, judging from that!” I remarked, feeling his hard erection against me.

“Hey Baby, it’s all for you.”

“Feels like sloppy seconds to me,” I derided

Ignoring my observation, he ran his hand down my thigh and hiked up my skirt. “A bit over dressed aren’t you,” he whispered, feeling my nylon pantyhose, before tonguing my ear.

“That little bitch did get you going didn’t she?” I replied, letting my hand fall to his crotch.

“I admit she might have started something, but I’d just as soon finish up with you,” Donny suggested, grabbing a good size chunk of my sweater-covered boob.

“Well I suppose in that case, perhaps I am a little over dressed. I can fix that.”

“Good… do ya need some help?”

“I think I can manage, but thanks for the offer,” I shot him a sexy glance, before pulling away from his grasp.

Heading directly to the ladies room, I caught a glimpse of Ben leading Alicia to the dance floor. “Well that’s good. Maybe the two of them will hit it off,” I thought.

Taking some welcome relief in the restroom stall, I peeled down my pantyhose and wet panties. Rolling them both into a tidy little ball, I stuffed them in my purse, and made my way back to the table. Drinks were lined up double, as I took a seat in the vacant booth. I had quickly downed my third vodka seven of the night, when Ben (sans the hardon) approached the table.

“Hey, what’s up? Thought I saw you two dancing?” I asked, scooting over make room.

“Yeah we were doing fine, until they started playing this shit,” Ben shook his head, as a booming rap song made normal conversation impossible. I only caught about a third of what he said through the din, but soon realized the reason for his dismay. Donny was happily making his dated dance steps, as spunky little Alicia approximated the dance of the seven veils around him. Taking every available opportunity to show off her goodies and rub herself against my husband, they were having a high old time.

“There’s no way I could (or would want to) compete with little Salome,” I thought. Ben’s polite, yet sad, smiles told me he was enjoying this every bit as much as I was. We both seemed to be on course to out-drink each other, as we struggled to sit through another mix of mind-numbing rap crap. Finally the two of them took a break and rejoined us.

“Gosh Barb, that man of yours sure knows how to dance! I hope you don’t mind me stealing him away – he’s such a retro stud!” She claimed, hardly able to contain herself.

“Hey you two do what you gotta do,” I simmered.

“You don’t mind, do ya Honey,” Donny smiled, as he gasped for more oxygen.

“Oh hell no. You guys go on and dance the night away. I’ve got a headache; think I’ll step outside for a breather,” I noted scooting out of the booth.

“You okay Babe? Maybe we should call it a night,” Donny offered, taking his best shot at being a gentleman.

“No, no, I’ll be okay; just need some fresh air,” I said and grabbed up my waist-length fur lined coat.

Initially, the booze numbed me against the cold, as I found my way to our car. Tripping the autolock, I climbed into the backseat and felt a piercing chill when my naked ass and legs hit the cold leather seat. I couldn’t have been out there in the dark November air watching my own steam for more than ten minutes, when I heard a tapping on the window. I opened the door and slid over to make room for Ben.

“Kinda chilly out here all alone?” Ben started.

“Donny sent you to keep an eye on me, didn’t he?” I asked, crossing my arms for warmth.

“What makes you say that? No, just wanted to offer some company, if ya want some.”

“You’re not a very good liar Ben.”

“Why not give me the keys. No reason for both of us to freeze to death.”

“Why don’t YOU just keep me warm. You’ve done that before, remember?” I said, uncrossing my arms. Grabbing his arm, I pulled it over my head and nestled next to him.

“I remember, but…”

“But what? Don’t want to be seen making out with a drunken old lady?” I smiled at him and ran my finger over his lips.

“God Barb, you drive me nuts. You’re not drunk or old. Besides we’re not making out,” he stated firmly, as I continued to tease his lips.

“Why not?” I asked, and disposed of his glasses. Folding them neatly, I slid them in his shirt pocket.

“Why not what?”

“Why DON’T you make out with me? Just not your type, huh,” I teased, undoing the top couple of buttons on his shirt.

“Oh God, if you only knew…but, you’re married – married to my boss, for Christ sake!”

“Goodness, that’s so admirable of you,” I said, pulling his zipped coat apart. “I should also mention what an admirable hardon you had on the dance floor,” undoing more buttons.

“Give me the keys so we can start the heater,” Ben said, ignoring me.

“You find ‘em and you can have ‘em,” I smirked, reached into my pocket and hid the keys in my grasp. Spreading my fists apart, I gave him the go ahead to search me. When he reached into my pockets, I faked putting them down my sweater with one hand, and shoved them between my legs with the other.

“You’re making this difficult,” Ben grimaced.

“What’s difficult? I know you have a fair idea where they are. Are you too “admirable” to go after them?” I challenged, keeping my arms spread apart.

“Okay girl, if that’s the way you want to play,” Ben stated, nervously pulled off his gloves, and accepted the challenge. Once he undid my coat, I wiggled completely out of it. Running his hands over my sweater from front to back, he was cautious to avoid to chest. When he backed away to reassess the situation, I reached down, crossed my hands, and pulled the bulky sweater up and off.

“You know, if you gave me a kiss, I might be inclined to be more helpful,” I offered, as he started undoing the buttons on my blouse. “Anybody watching right now would think we’re making out anyway,” I reasoned, when he suddenly stopped at the fourth button.

“Shit! Okay, but then you’ll give me the keys, right?” He bargained, tearing his eyes from my opened blouse.

“As long as it’s a decent kiss,” I added, pulling his head close. Closing his eyes, he pressed his closed lips hard against mine. I heard a short, deep moan, as his tense lips pushed my head back against the seat. It suddenly dawned on me that he had obviously never kissed a girl before. I let his version of what kissing was all about continue, faking a few moans for some enhancement. He pulled back slowly, sensing something was wrong.

“There, how’s that?” He asked. A tiny tear escaped from the corner of his eye, before he sadly lowered them. When he started to back away, I lifted his chin.

“Never back away from a kiss, Sweetheart. Come here, I want you to feel something,” I said, drawing his face close again. “Close your eyes, relax, and let me kiss you.” Starting at his forehead, I gave his entire face tiny, wet smooches, while my index finger prodded his tight lips to relax and open slightly. I ran my wet tongue ever so softly under his upper lip, soothing his pot-marked cheeks with my hand. His entire body seemed to take a giant exhale at that point. Feeling the tender touch of his large hand on my neck, I went to work on his bottom lip. Lacing it with my saliva, I then closed my mouth around it. When I gently sucked our mixed saliva from his lower lip, his hand lowered a few inches, weaved its way inside my collar, and massaged my bare shoulder.

Both of us were rapidly breathing together into each other’s open mouth. I moved his hand from my shoulder to the front of my blouse. Opening my mouth wider, he followed suit. When my tongue darted in and out of his mouth, his fingers edged their way inside my bra. Gently pulling his hand from its intended destination, I needed for him to savor each part of me separately, and in order. Besides, as bad as my pussy was flowing again, it was all I could do not to reach down and pleasure myself. Pressing my fingers against his, he knew I wanted him to undo the rest of my blouse. My darting tongue also achieved the desired response, when his tongue answered. Turning my head slightly, the kiss I worked so diligently to promote finally began to emerge, as his fingers fumbled with my blouse.

With our mouths completely open, our tongues met in a fiery repartee of conflict and resolution. The coldness of the back seat was almost a welcome obstacle, like a splash of reality on the heat of our passion. With my blouse undone, I invited him to take it off, while begging for more and more of his thick tongue. Our moans and whispers of desire filled the frigid air, as I tugged and yanked at his oversized parka. Sitting with nothing but my bra and skirt, my goose-pimpled arms reacted to the chill.

“GOD DAMN! I never knew it could b-be,…” Ben tried to explain.

“You know Darlin’, there is something special about everyone – something that’s simply perfect,” I began, pulling the straps of my bra down. “You, my Dear, kiss perfectly!” I stated, glaring straight into his eyes, as I reached behind to undo my bra.

“Only because of you Barb… you showed me. Oh GOD, talk about PERFECT!” Ben exclaimed, leaning back at the sight of my bared melons.

I smiled, then grinned, before arching my back, and shaking my hair back. “Yes, I’ve been told that. But thanks, I’m glad you approve,” I snickered and shook them for his pleasure. Needless to mention, but the arctic air had an immediate effect on my nipples, which were rock hard.

“Can I…” Ben pleaded.

“I wish you would, please,” I interrupted and leaned forward. As he slowly cupped and filled his large hand with one of my double-d’s, I thought I saw shadows passing outside. Wiping the frozen condensation from the rear window to make a hole, I spied what looked like Alicia and Donny in the parking lot. “Our ballroom buddies are back,” I said, pulling my sweater back on. Ben helped me back into my coat. Stashing my blouse and bra under the seat, we heard the doors unlock. I felt the warm set of keys hidden under me, as I scooted away from Ben. Donny opened the back door first to let Alicia in, until he saw the two of us.

“Here, you’d better sit up front, Alicia,” he said, shutting the back and opening the rider’s side.

“Jesus CHRIST it’s c-cold! How come you didn’t start the car?” Donny asked, jumping in the driver’s side.

“I don’t know. Didn’t want to waste gas, I guess,” I answered lamely.

“Feels good to me. I like cold weather!” Alicia bubbled, clearly drunk on her ass. “Here Donny, I can warm you up,” the perky blonde offered, as she leaned over to rub my hubby’s legs (I assume). “Ooops, I mean, if that’s okay with you Barb?”

“Well, I must commend you Bitch; at least this time you asked,” I mumbled.

“So, what’s up with you two? Alicia here wants to check and see if her boyfriend is cheating on her. Isn’t that right?” Donny said, starting the engine, while Blondie continued her massage.

“Hey, we were just about to discuss sports, weren’t we Ben? You guys go on and have your little adventure. Don’t mind us,” I said, moving back next to Ben.

Lifting and wrapping his arm around me again, I reached between my legs to retrieve my set of car keys. “Guess you can stop looking for these now,” I winked, shaking the keys in Ben’s face. Ben’s expression of exasperation was priceless. Considering where I had hidden the keys, Ben could only imagine how fruitful his quest could have been. I laughed, as Donny pulled away from the restaurant.

Alicia’s incessant chatter whined on, while she moved as close as possible to Donny. I begged Donny to flip on the radio, before snuggling under Ben’s arm. “So, we were discussing sports?” Ben asked.

“Not yet, but I’m thinking we should. I think baseball would be a good one to start with,” I said, crossing my legs.

“Baseball?” He replied, taking note of my exposed leg.
“Yeah, you know… getting to first base, second base, and so on,” I whispered, holding his free hand in my lap.

“Hmm, you know I’ve always wondered just what constitutes reaching those particular bases,” Ben said, nervously glancing at the rear view mirror, to see if Donny was watching.

“Well ya know, like any sport, you have to have the balls to play – that’s important,” I said, forcing his hand underneath my sweater.

“Balls, I see. So it doesn’t matter if one player uses some other guy’s equipment?” He asked, letting his hand slowly feel its way over my bare tummy.

“I figure turn-about is fair play.” Bringing his hand up to fondle my tits.

“Let’s get back to my first question about the bases,” the boy took a deep breath, as he squirmed next to me.

“Okay, remember when you kissed me?” I asked, rubbing my hand over his thighs.

“Y-yeah.”

“That was nothing. Well maybe stepping up to the plate,” I laughed, making longer strokes.

“Oh, so…” He started, as his hand switched to my other jug.

“When we kissed the second time, that was first base,” I explained, letting my hand find his erection.

“First base is good. I like THAT a lot,” Ben admitted, taking a shorter breaths, while my fingers outlined the length of his cock.

“You’re sure this is where he is?” We heard Donny from the front seat. “It’s like the middle of a fucking cornfield!”

I hadn’t realized how far out of town we were, until I looked up. We WERE damn near in the middle of a fucking cornfield! Except for a sprinkling of trees, this place was barren. Alicia instructed Donny to drive slowly to the treed section with his lights off. Not knowing what to expect, I stopped working on Ben and watched. Coming to a halt some 10 or 20 yards from of a few other parked cars, Alicia strained to see if her boyfriend’s car was among the herd.

“Good, he’s not here,” Alicia said, quickly perching herself near Donny again.

“So now what?” Donny asked, after driving clear to kingdom come in search of some spacey chick’s (probably fictitious) boyfriend.

“Mmm, how about…” I heard a zipper, “some of this,” Alicia said, before diving head-first into my husband’s lap.

“OH SHIT!” Donny yelled, and immediately swung his head around to check my reaction.

In the darkness of the back seat, I reached again for Ben’s crotch. I gave Donny a wicked smile and shrugged my shoulders, as if to say, “Well, what did you expect?” Donny’s confused expression soon morphed into one of surprised arousal, as his head hit the headrest. Hard sucking, popping, and slurping sounds broke through the silence, as I coaxed Ben’s cock back to attention.

“Does that make you feel better?” I whispered, as we listened to the popping slurper.

“And you’re okay with… with her doing that?” Ben wondered.

“Trust me Ben, that little twerp has nothing on me. Donny knows that. I know that. I’m letting him have a little fun. Is that so wrong?” I asked, lifting my sweater high enough to show him my boobs.

“And I suppose he’s returning the favor?”

“I really don’t give a shit about favors. I made a promise, a guarantee to you about tonite. I’m just making good on my promise. Don’t you think that’s admirable of me?” I purred, and licked the tip of his nose. When he nodded and smiled I opened my mouth on his. This time his fat tongue met mine. Pulling my tongue back in, I waited for his. When he thrust it in my mouth, I immediately sucked it in deeper. With his hand fondling my tits, I sucked it hard, pressing my chest tight against his hand. Once again, he followed my lead and roughly grabbed one of my melons. Switching his grip to the other, he twisted and pulled my nipple hard, exactly how I like.

“Oh God Ben, you’re there!” I hard-whispered in his ear. “If you wondered about second base…” I gasped.

“I feel like I could explode!” He whispered back, rocking his pelvis back and forth against my hand. I had yet to undo his jeans, when his entire body went stiff. When he held his breath for a good ten seconds, I was afraid he’d pass out on me.

“It’s okay Baby, let it go,” I urged in his ear, as my grip tightened around the outline of his thick manhood. I managed to stroke it the best I could, considering his dick was still tightly embedded in his jeans. “Mmm, yeah Baby, come for me, yeah,” I implored him, rubbing it harder and faster. “Don’t forget to breathe,” I kissed his cheek, and felt his throbbing organ about to pop.

“SHIT! Oh shit!” He stifled a yell, as his body stretched back. Gently smoothing my hand over it, I felt unmistakable globs of cum pulsating through the length of his rigid shaft. His hand jerked from my breast to somehow catch the residue. However, by the time he had undone his belt buckle, it was too late. The entire front of his jeans and part of his shirt were soaked in sticky virginal cum.

“Jesus, I’m sorry. What a damn mess!” He apologized, as if he’d just broken my favorite vase or something.

“Ben Honey, don’t be upset. You just got to third base, and not much before me,” I smiled, and massaged his cum-covered tummy. “You should never be ashamed of producing such a nice big, tasty load. I’m impressed,” I grinned and licked my fingers clean.

Judging from the grunts and moans coming from the front seat, I was certain that Donny and Alicia were entirely oblivious to our baseball antics. As Alicia continued to display her limited proficiency in hydraulics, I opted to play some more with Ben.

“You’re not the only one whose wet, ya know,” I winked. Spreading my legs, I hiked my skirt up just high enough to show I wasn’t wearing panties.

“What happened to your…”

“My pantyhose? Same place as my panties, in my purse. It’s a long story.”

“I hope you’re not as wet…” he started, while I dipped a few fingers between my slit.

“Oh good gravy, no. I’d be swimming in it by now,” I laughed. “Just thought you might like a taste,” I said, wafting my fragrant fingers under his nose. His tongue darted out for a lick, but I pulled my fingers away, and lifted my sweater again. Lacing my hard nipple with some fresh female fluid, I reached behind his head to draw him to my chest.

“Mmmm, need more of THAT!” He demanded, after enjoying a few long licks.

“That will have to do for now,” I said, running my fingers through his short hair. Suddenly his mouth opened fully. After sucking in as much of my boob as he could take, he switched to my other tit. I reached down to rub my clit, while he feasted on my fleshy mounds. Knowing I would soon reach the edge of no return, I pulled his head away. Still grasping his hair, I pushed his head back against the seat, and shoved two of my cum-soaked fingers into his mouth. I twisted and turned my flavor-rich fingers in his mouth, as my tongue joined in the pussy tasting.

My tongue took over again, while my hand fell to his damp jeans. He was plenty ready to shoot another load, as my hands quickly tried to undo his jeans. Fighting my way into his soaked shorts, I was barely able to get my hand around his missile when he launched another volley of starchy jism. At least this time I was able to get him off. Jerking forth several long streams of steamy cum, I deep-sucked his tongue. He snorted bursts of air, as thick man gravy thoroughly coated my hand.

“Incredible,” was the youngster’s one word response, as he slowly came down from a succession of climaxes he’d never before shared. My free hand dug through my purse. Digging out my soiled panties, I cleaned up, as my hubby’s orgasmic scream pierced the night air. The sound of Alicia gagging, then taking and savoring my hubby’s load had little effect on me. In another circumstance I might crazy jealous and ready to bust some heads. Glancing over at Ben putting his glasses back on, I smiled. I knew this thing with him was just the tip of the iceberg. If that large, hard, young tool of his felt half as good in my pussy, as it did in my hand… now that was something to look forward to.

The uneventful drive home was quiet. Dropping Alicia back at her place, I reclaimed the front seat without a word. Once back in our garage, Ben beat a path for his room, while Donny and I made our way to bed.

“So, what’s the deal with Ben?” Donny casually asked, as we undressed.

“Not much. I was just making good on a promise. What’s with your little hottie?” I asked, pulling on my nightgown.

“Hmm, I guess some things don’t always work out the way they’re planned,” Donny admitted, repressing a smile.

“I suppose so,” I agreed. Then again, sometimes they work out just fine, I thought. We kissed, said our goodnights, turned and rolled over. Right then and there I figured the subject was closed.

****************

Second Date: A $500 Investment

Regarding our brief sexually charged encounter, Ben was able to suspend whatever crush he had on me – only trying to cop a cheap feel on one or two rare occasions. I made it clear on the last occasion that such contact would not be wise. A healthy distance between the two of us was the only feasible approach, for keeping our limited relationship and my marriage in perspective. “We both had a little innocent backseat action and it was fun, but that’s all it could ever amount to,” I reasoned. “You need to spread your wings now and try some of that new-found technique on some sweet young thing,” I admonished. A dejected, but amiable Ben regrettably agreed.

“Honey, I heard Sonny boy here has done found himself a gurl!” Donny twanged with a nod to Lil’Abner.

“What’s this?” I turned to Ben for the lowdown, as we finished up dinner. It had only been two weeks since our memorable dining and dancing episode with the bubblehead. I was happy to hear Ben didn’t let rejection get him down – always best to get back on the horse (so to speak).

“Her name is Christy. I met her at night school; we’re taking many of the same courses,” Ben announced.

“That’s wonderful! So tell us all about her.” I pressed him.

“Well, she’s divorced with a kid, works at Mickey’s Club during the day, and she likes me, I think… I mean, we get along,” He amended.

“Wait, whoa, back up! She works at Mickey’s?” Donny’s eyes opened wide.

Mickey’s Club, located at the end of Main Street, is our one and only official strip club, and local den of iniquity. One would assume, if you were a female employee, you must be a stripper. Donny drug me over there once, in our younger, wilder days. I wasn’t all that impressed – mostly a scummy hangout for horny old guys in plaid Pendletons.

“Easy boss, she’s a waitress – that’s all!” Ben stated.

“Hmm, too ugly for stripping huh, too bad.” Donny’s sensitivity runneth over.

“Don’t pay attention to him Ben. How old is she?” I broke in.

“I’m guessing she’s in her thirties, and she’s anything but ugly. She used to dance there, but since she had a kid she’s trying to turn her life around,” Ben submitted.

“She have big hooters, or is she just your run-of-the-mill droopy has-been?”

“God Donny, you’re so crass,” I admonished.

“Actually, Christy IS quite well-endowed,” Ben admitted, sneaking a broad smile under his water glass.

“Well, good for her. I’m glad you’ve met someone. She sounds nice.” I said, trying to smooth over my husband’s rude remarks.

“Yeah, sorry old man. Bring her by any time,” Donny offered.

“I appreciate that. We haven’t really been out on a date yet. I’ve been mostly just helping her with homework assignments and stuff.”

“Maybe you should bring her over, say Saturday night. We don’t have any plans, and it would be nice to meet her.” I suggested, subliminally playing the matchmaker.

Rubbing his eyes, Ben agreed to ask Christy out and maybe stop by to introduce her.

“How’s it coming with the new contacts,” I asked, clearing away the table.

“Not too bad. My eyes itch a little at night, but I’m getting used to them,” Ben said.

By now, Ben’s transformation from an over-weight, homely kid into young stud was nearly complete. He would never win a beauty contest, but with his new tight physique and grooming, he was turning into quite a catch for some lucky girl. To say I was proud to be part of his personal accomplishments would be an understatement.

The further development of his outgoing personality was equally impressive. No longer did he fear being with girls or females in general. Moreover, with his keen sense of humor, he thrived in the spotlight, and was quite relaxed, at least in my company. I soon found this quality extended to include his recent acquaintance as well. Saturday rolled around all too soon.

“You know, Ben and his new friend will be over anytime,” Donny reminded me.

“I suppose so. So, what’s your point?” I asked, relaxing in my robe as we watched the TV.

“I was just thinking you might like to change, you know something a little more flattering wouldn’t hurt,” my hubby recommended.

“So, you expect me to somehow compete with a former stripper?” I laughed, getting off the couch.

“No, I just think you’d feel more comfortable in something else, that’s all.”

“Hmm, and what do YOU think I’d be more “comfortable” in?”

“I don’t know, how about that white halter top? You hardly ever wear it anymore.”

“And, with good reason!” I said defiantly. “If it will make you happy, I’ll put something on, but not THAT.” Digging through my closet, I found a cute knit top that I felt less conspicuous in and threw on some jeans.

It was around 9 o’clock when Ben’s late model pickup pulled into our circle drive that Saturday night. “My God, she’s an Amazon!” I yelled, peering through the blinds at Ben’s date, as they made their way toward the door.

“Hi guys, this is Christy; Christy this is Donny and Barb,” he introduced the tall brunette.

“Hi it’s really nice to meet you guys. Ben has nothing but sweet things to say about you both!” The six-foot tall striking woman replied. With her thigh-length leather jacket and deep red thick lips, she did resemble more of a dancer than a student. The phrase “built like a brick shit house” best describes this woman. “This gal is a waitress? Except for her stunning facial features, her hard body resembled that of a bouncer or lady wrestler,” I thought. A highlight of their arrival was yet to come, when Donny asked to take her coat.

“Well, Ben said he met this sweet girl at school. I’m glad he brought you by to meet us,” Donny said, without an excessive amount of drooling. “Here, let me take that for you,” he added, helping her off with her tight fitting expensive jacket. I instantly felt my 50-plus year old double-d-cupped hangers sag lower, as out jumped Christy’s 40-inch store-bought boulders. I thought Donny’s jaw would have to be super glued or nailed on from then on. Her alluring, never-ending legs in that short miniskirt and slim waist line were palpable attractions, but they couldn’t hold water to her volleyball-sized bosom.

Inviting the couple into the family room, I interjected a fair amount of small talk to break the ice. My husband and Ben were gone in a flash to mix drinks, as the two of us got acquainted.

“So, I hear you and Ben have some classes together?” I started.

“Oh yeah. God, if it wasn’t for Benny, I don’t how I’d get through those English courses,” she reflected, rolling her eyes. That grammar stuff is SO boring, and hard! Just the other night we had to work on comparative adjectives and adverbs. Thank God Benny knows this stuff.”

“Yeah, old Benny, he’s pretty sharp,” I said, recalling it was I who tutored him on the exact same exercise the night before. I thought he’d never get it.

“So you work at Mickey’s,” Donny said, handing Christy a glass of wine. Ben was bursting with proud smiles, as he joined her on the couch.

“Yeah, I’ve worked there for like seven years. I used to dance for them, you know,” she said, trying to cross her long gams as respectfully as possible. “Now, since I have Sarah, that’s my little girl, I need to clean up my act – a little anyway,” she winked.

“I’ve heard some str… dancers can make good money,” I said, finding myself sitting up a bit straighter.

“You bet Barb. I made GOOD money. How do ya think I could ever afford to pay for these!” She laughed, and proudly stuck out her unreal chest. We all laughed. “I still make pretty good wages as a waitress and other stuff.”

“I’m sure you do. You’re still a knock-out,” Donny butted in.

“You know Sweetheart, I do believe this is the first time we’ve ever entertained a dancer,” I said, directing my statement at Donny.

“Oh let’s be real here guys. Dancer is just a PC way of saying I’m a stripper. I’m not embarrassed. I am a damn good stripper!” Christy cut through the bullshit.

“I KNOW you were,” my hubby acknowledged a little too quickly.

“Hmm, I thought you looked familiar, Donny,” Christy smiled.

“I take it that you had the pleasure of seeing Christy perform?” Ben asked, before glancing over to catch my expression.

The fact that my husband frequented titty bars was no earth-shattering news. “Ah yeah, I think I might recall watching her perform on occasion,” Donny admitted. “You were very good!”

“Thank you kind sir, but I’m STILL damn good – one of the best Mickey’s ever had,” Christy proudly smiled, brushing back her long dark locks.

“I guess I’m one of those jealous women whose horny husbands came home all hot-to-trot,” I concluded. “I suppose I should really be thanking YOU for all that good sex,” I chuckled.

“You’re welcome. But hey, I wasn’t doing anything any wife couldn’t have done in the privacy of her own bedroom,” Christy explained, taking another swig.

“Yeah right, any woman with a 40-inch chest!” I winked.

“Forty-two actually, but those are just for show. Seriously, it’s all about the dance,” Christy emphasized, before rising again to her feet. “Here Barb, let me get you a refill,” she said, reaching for my wine glass.

“But you don’t…” I started, but handed her my glass.

“Sorry, it’s the waitress in me. The shrinks call it caretaker syndrome,” she laughed. I joined the unpretentious Amazon in the kitchen. “I just really enjoy making people happy,” she went on. “I really do miss the stripping. Is that awful of me?”

“Hey I’m sure you brought great pleasure to lots of guys,” I reasoned, as we sat down at the kitchen island.

“Yeah, and women too. You’d be surprised how many women get into it,” Christy added, downing another glass of port. “I think a fair amount of them just couldn’t get the old man up, you know?”

“Maybe they just wanted some pointers – dance steps from a pro.” I smiled, as Donny switched on the sound system.

“Oh I gave ‘em plenty of pointers,” the tall beauty said, lightly springing to her feet, to sway to my hubby’s carefully chosen R&B mix.

Young Ben and not-so-young Donny huddled at the other side of the kitchen, like a pair of eavesdropping voyeurs trying to catch a free show. Of course Christy knew she had an audience for most anything she did. However, her attention was focused on me, and I was taking a liking to her down-to-earth, matter-of-fact attitude. She was definitely her own woman. Her self-confident, yet light-hearted, self-effacing demeanor was refreshing and fun to be around. Her voluptuous body may have resembled an authentic life-size replica of a Barbie doll, but her inner self equally shown to me, was that of a tested, determined survivor.

“Barb, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you really resemble my old dancing partner, Tiffany. I don’t mean SHE was old, well you know what I mean.” Christy laughed.

“Really? Hmm, guess I should take that as a compliment,” I said, standing and straining to reach a snack bowl on the third cupboard shelf.

“Yeah, for sure! Tiffany totally kicked ass, when it came to dancing!” Taller Christy silently, but easily reached over me to get the bowl. “You know that movie, ‘Dumb & Dumber’? Well, we were affectionately referred to as ‘Big & Bigger’, she grinned.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the tray from her. “Sometimes I wished I had taken dance lessons when I was a kid,” I admitted, filling the bowl with chips.

“From what I can see, you have a kind of natural rhythm and flow,” Christy observed.

I must have blushed, before quietly taking another swig of wine. Feeling the effects of her two glasses, Christy glided to the heavy R&B beat, adding a well-placed bump and grind when the music moved her.

“Come on Tif…I mean Barb – God, I’m sorry! You really DO resemble her,” Christy took my wrists to pull me up to join her. Glancing at the wide eyes of our male vultures, I got to my feet and joined in her little impromptu dance. “I just love Marvin Gaye, don’t you?” She stated, letting go of my wrists to take her wine, as she continued to gracefully step in time.

I nodded, smiled and let the music envelope me. As the song played on, I got more into it. Sensually moving back and forth, I mimicked her steps stride for stride, until we both seemed to move as one. Kicking off her tall pumps, she came closer to my height in heels. Christy took advantage of our parallel symmetry and moved to within a few inches of me. When she fixed her eyes on mine, with the look of a sex-starved vixen, I totally lost it and started to laugh. Still holding her wine in one hand, she laid her other hand on my shoulder to draw me closer. Embarrassed by my anxious laughter, I quickly did a 180, to avoid her pseudo come-on.

This move caught her completely off guard, and suddenly I felt liquid pouring down my back. She had inadvertently spilled her port wine down my back. “Oh GOD Barb! Shit, look what I’ve done!” Christy apologized profusely, as the cool, sticky juice settled into my top’s absorbent fabric.

“Don’t worry. I think I can take it out,” I proclaimed, streaking upstairs to our master bathroom.

Yanking off my top, I surveyed the damage. Reaching back, I could feel wetness on my bra straps as well. Unhooking my bra, it was plain to see both items were soaked with the deep red port wine. Standing frozen my brain raced, trying to recall every household remedy for wine stains. Unfortunately that was the same brain I’d just recently drained a few hundred cells from, coincidently using the same diabolical substance.

“I’ve heard talcum powder works,” Christy’s voice surprised me, standing in the doorway.

“God Christy, I didn’t see you!” I exclaimed, crossing my arms to hide my bare chest.

“Here, let me see,” she said, gently pulling my arms down. I thought she meant the stained top, of course. “Oh God Barb, they’re perfect,” Christy said quietly staring directly at my bosom.

“What?” I asked, considering the seemingly irreversible damage to my clothes.

“Your boobs – they are perfect,” she repeated, restraining the desire to feel them.

“Oh geez Christy, you’re not…”

“A lesbian? No, I’m not queer. It’s just I’m so fucking jealous,” she added, eyeing every aspect of my round melons.

“YOU JEALOUS!? Give ME a fucking break, Miss 42-E, or however huge those things are!” I exploded, trying to recover my tits.

“Don’t you understand? If I had anything close to that, I could have saved five grand! Instead, I get to strut around with this huge shelf, which has like zero give. It sucks.” The tall, brick house confided, then proceeded to open enough blouse buttons to bare her extensive cleavage to me. Taking my hand in hers, she made me feel the super taut flesh-covered silicone.

At first taken back by such a lesbian-type activity, feeling her tits became more of a curiosity – a study in the marvels of modern enhancement. Christy was only too happy to discuss every facet of her preposterous prosthetics, showing me more and more of them as she spoke. As in so many similar cases, I assumed the reason for her augmentation started with a man.

Wanting to please her ex-husband, who was less than accepting of her original C cup size, seemed to be the initial motivation for the addition. Off came her blouse, as she described how the changes would benefit her job at Mickey’s. Off came the industrial-strength brassiere charged with the daunting task of supporting such over-sized howitzers, as Christy told all the gory details of her operation.

“See Barb, you have this large, lovely natural set, and you have no idea how priceless they truly are!”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far. At my age, I simply prefer not to advertise them,” I replied.

“Mmm see, more than handful for sure, but so damn supple!” Bare chested Christy said, as her hands and fingers respectfully fondled my hooters. “God if it were me, I’d be showing them off regularly,” she declared.

“I’m sure Donny would be thrilled with that,” I smiled derisively.

“So, give him a thrill. Don’t you love him? Don’t you want the best for him? Hell, I say when you’ve got the best to give, GIVE him the best. He’d be so proud,” Christy determined.

“Maybe I shouldn’t always keep them under wraps. I’ll consider it. How’s that?”

“Tick-tock Lady! Now aren’t you glad you don’t have to haul these around?” She stated, shaking her mammoth mangos against me. I laughed. We both laughed, as I carefully hoisted her volleyballs to check the elasticity. “No need to be so tender with ‘em. The only really sensitive parts are my nipples. I can barely stand to have guys suck on them – it’s painful actually.”

“God, I couldn’t stand not having mine sucked, and sucked hard,” I reflected.

“See how lucky you are! Now, let’s find you something to wear, until we can fix those wine stains,” Christy advised, as she pulled her heavy-duty harness back on. Still lying on the bed, my white halter caught her eye. “What’s wrong with this?” She asked, picking it up.

“It’s way too tight anymore and outdated, I’m afraid.”

“Nonsense, it’s a classic; plus you don’t need a bra with it. Here try it on,” She decided. As I slung the collar over my head, wrapped the one-piece halter around me, and tucked in my double-d’s, Christy rummaged through my closet. “Great, why it looks terrific! Now here, try this on with it,” she said, holding up an also dated dark miniskirt.

“My God Christy, my boobs are practically falling out the way it is, and you want me to squeeze into this old thing?” I challenged, gazing at the once-sexy skirt.

“Just satisfy my curiosity. Besides it’ll be great for dancing.” She threw it at me, as she buttoned up most of her un-tucked blouse.

“Okay,” I caved in, and pulled my jeans off. Pulling the flimsy skirt up over my broad hips, I remembered how frilly it originally felt. Surprisingly, it hadn’t lost that feeling over the years. Looking in the mirror, my first reaction was to let out another uneasy laugh.

“Jesus Girl, you’re in great shape all the way around,” Christy approved.

“Well, I have lost a few pounds. Maybe, with some nice pantyhose…” I rethought the notion.

“What for? You’ve got nice tanned legs. Screw the pantyhose!”

“If you promise not to dance with any more wine bottles,” I smirked, stepping into my heels.

“I promise! Now, let’s give those two a show they won’t soon forget,” Super busty Christy bubbled.

“Just so you know Christy, I’m not planning on stripping for these guys,” I made myself clear.

“I understand. Oh, and just so YOU know, I DO plan on attacking young Ben, if that’s okay?” She responded as we headed downstairs.

I jiggled like a bowl of fresh chilled Jell-O as we bounded downstairs. Donny’s martini shaking came to an abrupt halt at seeing me. If his falling jaw needed fixing before, it was in desperate need of repair now.

“Close your mouth Honey. You act like you’ve never seen tits and ass before,” I said. Judging from Ben’s similar facial expression, I felt like the new hot slut in town.

“It’s been a while. God, you look scrumptious!” My hubby uttered, handing me an ice-chilled vodka martini. Christy went directly to Ben’s side, stealing his drink in the process.

“We should toast something,” I announced.

“How about that outfit,” Donny’s eyes confirmed that any perceived competition between Christy and I was unwarranted. He’s sweet that way.

“How about Ben’s birthday?” Christy blurted out.

“Birthday? Ben, I had no idea! Is today your birthday?” I asked, feeling slighted that he hadn’t shared such important information. Ben’s eyes shifted briefly to Christy, then back to me for a discreet wink and a smile. That’s when I figured it probably wasn’t really his birthday; but perhaps a ploy to play on Christy’s “giving” nature. “By all means, yes we must toast Ben and his birthday,” I returned his smile and decided to play along.

Presented with the peculiar combination of wine and martinis, I decided together they produced a pleasant euphoria – an ideal combo for dancing and romance. The four of us paired off; Donny and I in the family room, while Christy and Ben remained in the kitchen. Lights were lowered. Music became a bit more sensual, and the kisses much more passionate.

Rolling around on the floor after a brief game of tug-of-war with my halter top, Donny was able to wrestle it away from me. The two of us hadn’t had playful sex for so long, it was fun to rekindle that flame as well. When he went after my skirt, I pulled the large comforter off the couch. It wasn’t long before we were naked, wrapped together in the cocoon of the warm blanket. Foreplay consisted of cock tugging and clit rubbing, mixed with whispers of off-color jokes, and frequent frisky kisses. I got a major case of the giggles, but somehow managed to mount hubby’s stiff hardon. With the comforter loosely wrapped around the two of us, Donny settled into a nice fucking rhythm.

The dimly lit family room afforded just enough light to see a tall shadow approaching us from the kitchen. “Sorry to interrupt; just need to use the bathroom,” whispered a nearly naked Christy, as she passed through. I thought little of the intrusion and went back to riding Donny’s cock, adjusting the blanket to keep us both covered.

By the time Christy returned, Donny and I were in full fucking mode. Riding high, hard and heavy, my tits flayed and circled, as the security blanket slid down around us. “God you guys, that’s SO damn sexy!” Christy exclaimed, suddenly appearing in front of me. Deep in the throes of a long sweet orgasm, the best response I could offer was an open-mouthed glance up at her. Standing tall in her heels and thigh-high hose, she practically straddled Donny’s head. I’m sure he got quite a view of the brick shithouse beauty. A vision that certainly didn’t diminish his desire to fuck my pussy.

“Would you guys mind terribly if we borrowed your couch?” Christy asked, fingering her pussy and fondling one of her massive mounds as she spoke. Under any other circumstance, I would have strongly refused. As it was, both Donny and I were beyond the point of no return, regarding our impending climaxes.

“Do what you want,” I blurted out, before gritting my teeth and throwing my head back. Rocking and reeling from the mutual explosion of our first shared orgasm in some time, everything around me became a blur. It was several minutes later, basking in the afterglow and feeling my hubby’s juices seeping from my pussy, that I noticed the naked couple making out a few feet from us on the couch.

Questioning what was normal behavior at that point would have been ludicrous. At the least, I probably should felt self-conscious. However, I (or should I say we) had a vested interest in Ben’s ‘education’ and strictly from a clinical point of view, it was interesting and fun to observe the results of our handiwork. Poised on the couch, on all fours, Christy reached back to spread her cheeks, while Ben on bended knee edged his 10-inch long, thick rod between her slit.

“That’s it Baby, give it to me,” the stripper beckoned.

Watching Ben’s toned rock-hard torso joining Christy’s more mature, but equally tight and toned super body was like bathing our eyes in pure pornography. Not that Donny and I were minced meat by any stretch, but just observing two such well-suited naked forms was a sensual delight. Shaken from the eye candy by Donny’s obvious throat-clearing, I realized I wasn’t the sole voyeur. “Sexy together, aren’t they?” He said, flexing his semi-erect tool inside me.

“Not bad for a pair of good looking kids,” I understated, grinding my pussy to force a further response.

“I must admit, that makes me feel a little inadequate,” Donny said, motioning me to focus on Ben’s sizable vulcanized manhood. The youngster’s long thrusts in and out of the older stripper were genuinely a sight to behold. I’d be lying to say the idea of riding or consuming such a delectably sturdy shaft didn’t affect me. However, I’m no fool.

“You know what I always say,” I prompted.

“I know, it’s not the size that matters; it’s how you use it,” my hubby quoted. “But…”

“But what? You think it’s easy to watch you drooling over a stripper. I mean, talk about feeling inadequate!”

“Don’t be silly. You know I’m only TRULY turned on by the likes of you.” He appeased me, as I climbed off of him.

By now, Christy had turned over to assume the missionary position. Any changes in arrangement mattered little to young Ben, as he continued to drill for oil. I had to fix myself on another diversion soon, or I would be drawn into considering nothing else but having his young tantalizing cock. Lying flat on the floor, I prodded Donny to go down on me in a sixty-nine. This way I could jack and suck him back into shape. Besides the fact that my husband gives some of the best head ever.

Performing sexually for our less than captive audience, I still delighted in emoting for effect. I was perhaps halfway into delivering a world-class blowjob when something odd dawned on me. I had to slow down and cut back my generally loud sloppy sucking to listen for it. I didn’t hear it, hmm? There was nothing to hear.

The low moans, the groans, the audible affectations of two souls immersed in the art of making love – there were NONE! The panting, the verbal lust, and tactile sounds of lovemaking that Ben and I shared in the backseat of Donny’s car only a few weeks ago, where were they? I found myself literally obsessed with the absence of any sound at all coming from them. Sure, one could hear the slippery, gooey, slapping sounds of the act itself, but absolutely no sign that either one of them were enjoying or even appreciating each other.

Donny was oblivious to the eerie silence. When it comes to sex, nothing short of an atomic device could distract him. Shrugging off my aural obsessing I returned to orally obsessing. Within seconds, I was back to power sucking speed, and about to savor another orgasm from hubby’s tongue. Throwing convention or nervous frustration to the wind, Donny and I both loudly reveled in our orgasms. Perhaps this was our boisterous curse at inadequacies, or was it just over emoting? Who the fuck knows or cares. It felt REALLY good to let go.

Sometime during our thunderous copulation, the other couple must have achieved their own quiet level of carnal bliss. They were both in about the same stages of re-dressing, when Donny and I concluded our act with a final kiss. Suddenly feeling modest, I covered up, wrapping the comforter around me, as Donny put his clothes back on.

“Hey guys, how about a nightcap?” Donny offered, as if we just finished a set of gin rummy.

Combing through her long hair with a brush, Christy stated it was past her bedtime. With a combined look of pride and frustration, Ben gathered up their coats. After a series of short cordial goodbyes, they were gone.

“I’m not at all sure they actually had a good time,” I remarked, picking up empty glasses.

“I know what you mean. It was kind of weird. Oh well, I got a fine piece of ass!” Donny rationalized.

“Why yes you did, and don’t you forget it!” I returned and smiled.

It was maybe an hour later, when we heard the familiar sounds of Ben’s truck on the gravel drive. A door slam, steps, and the key at the door. Donny had already crashed. I was downstairs still naked under my bathrobe.

“Oh, you’re still up?” Ben said, locking the door behind him.

“Just checking the thermostat. So, Christy seems nice. What’ya think?” Shoving aside my mother’s intuition.

“She SEEMED nice, didn’t she?” Ben shook his head.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Did you ever wonder how she was paying for things like tuition, books, and raising her kid, especially since the kid’s father is long gone?” Ben asked rhetorically.

“I assume she gets good tips. It never occurred to me actually,” I answered.

“Me either! I should have paid more attention when she said, “and STUFF!” I believe her exact words were, “I still make pretty good wages as a waitress and other stuff.”

“Ben, you’re not saying she CHARGED you for tonight!”

First his eyes lowered, then his head, before he nodded. “She’s a fucking whore,” Ben mumbled.

“Are you serious? How much?” I stormed.

“Five hundred,” Ben shook his head.

“Oh good God. What a fucking bitch! You can’t afford that!”

“That’s beside the point. I suppose it’s the price ya pay for being a dumb, unsuspecting sap. No woman looking that good wants somebody like me,” Ben said.

The empty wallet was one thing, his poor ego was torn to shreds. Whatever self-confidence he had reconditioned lay before him, like some terrible experiment gone wrong. Taking hold of his arms, I forced him to face me.

“Listen Babe, it’s late. Get some sleep and we’ll talk this over tomorrow. I’m so sorry,” I said. Fighting back sympathetic tears, I turned away. He shook me back to face him.

“It really wasn’t a total loss. I would have paid even more to see you like I did tonight,” Ben said, staring straight into my eyes. “Hell, considering the wonders of you, I look at that five hundred as a minimal investment.”

His tight grip on my arms confirmed how serious he was. Speechless in his grasp, my eyes flitted, as I searched for a quick, polite response. There was none. I couldn’t bore him with some trite brush off. At the same time, I dare not reveal my growing feelings for him. My stone-cold silence would have to suffice. Studying his sad sensitive eyes, I sensed it just might have for the moment. His hands fell away. He turned and walked upstairs.

****************

Early Morning Apparitions

By the time I returned to our bedroom, Donny was sawing major logs, and was definitely down for the count. Sleeping in the raw is not my normal M.O. However, when we were younger, hubby and I would sleep commando after a nice sex-filled evening. He must have considered tonight one of those special nights. To keep with the program, I threw off my robe and settled my naked self in next to him.

Expecting to drift off into a normal sleep, I found myself tossing and turning. The combination of recalling Ben’s beautiful long cock at work, and the sight of his pained expression when he arrived back home, was enough to keep me restless. Opting to examine the sensual side of my recollections, my hand slowly massaged my labia, until I dosed off.

A dream took hold of me. Of course, now I have no clue what it involved. I only know it was sexual and vivid enough to have me in a sweat. Climbing out of bed, I pulled my robe back on. The digital clock read 5:30 a.m. Once in the bathroom, I took a nice long drink of cold water. Staring into the mirror, I ran my fingers through my hair. Erotic remnants from my dream popped into my conscious. It was Ben. One suspended thought hung in my tired, but titillated brain: the overwhelming urge to have him.

Flipping the light off, I told myself, “Get to bed. Sleep it off.” That’s what I said, leaving the master bath. Imagine my surprise, when my body turned instead toward the bedroom door. Making my way down the hallway, I realized the urge was too strong to deny. “This was one of YOUR rules, you fool, and you’re about to break it,” I cursed myself, thinking back when the scraggly-haired, young stranger first showed up at our door.
The morning’s earliest light crept halfway up the wall in the warm guest bedroom. It was too bright. He would wake. Closing down the blinds to leave in just enough light, I turned around. Laying full out on his back, young Ben slept. “God, could he BE any sexier?” I rolled my eyes at the sight of his half-exposed body. Slimmed down, muscled-up, strong shouldered, with those tight abs, the hunk was naked down to where the bedding covered his lower half.

Undoing the front of my robe, I let my hands imagine his broad hands caressing my body. Biting the side of my upper lip, I allowed his hands (my hands) to wander over the warm softness of my torso. Grasping my boobs, did my dampened squeal of delight stir him? Pulling the white robe farther back and down my shoulders to rest in the crux of my arms, I dared not go further. Stirring and turning in his slumber, Ben’s covers inched down to just above his pelvis. My short labored breaths bordered on panting, as my greedy eyes needed to see more. That sensual, naughty part of my being shamed the pristine clarity of that holy dawn. I could hold back no longer. Edging my nervous fingers across my hips, one hand pampered and soothed my mons, while other fingers caressed the inner lips of my pussy. “This wouldn’t take long,” I bargained with myself for extra time to savor the taboo. With two fingers rubbing my clit, I tore my other hand away. Taking the quietest of steps forward, I leaned to uncover my unsuspicious guest. Gently lifting the covers, I immediately lost whatever voyeur status I had. That’s when the cobra struck.

With the speed and accuracy of best slight-of-hand artist, Ben’s hand caught my wrist. Holding on tight, his eyes slowly opened. “SHIT!” I half-yelled, and desperately tried to pull away, with no effect. Tightening his grip, he scooted back against the headboard.

“Well now, isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” Ben said smiling, while my other hand did its best to cover up. “Could this be the guardian angel I was just dreaming of?” he yawned, but held fast.

“I’m not feeling very angelic, Ben. Please let go,” I implored him, feeling lower than low for attempting such an unforgivable indiscretion.

“Not angelic huh, perhaps a little devil made you do it?” Ben quipped. Letting go of my wrist, he watched as I quickly covered myself and cinched up. Shaking my head in humiliation, I headed for the door. “There is one thing that concerns me. Maybe you could explain something for me?” Ben asked, stopping me in my tracks.

“Okay, okay, what is it?” I figured I owed him something for treading on his private territory.

“Come back here, where I can see you. I promise, I won’t bite,” his eyes sparkling.

“Okay,” I replied and calmed down enough to cut the distance between us in half.

“It kinda concerns that thing with Christy…” he stated, then pulled down the covers to reveal himself. “Actually, this thing,” he said, as he slowly stroked his ten-inch erection.

“W-what seems to be the problem?” I tried unsuccessfully not to stare.

“I just always figured it would be different – fucking, you know?”

“How’s that? I mean, I saw you screwing the bitch,” I declared and felt my pussy spasm.

“Her, her hole, vagina – whatever was… I mean I was too small for her, I guess,” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed with a deep concern, as the rhythmic stroking continued.

Here I am gazing at his utterly delicious cock, and trying to concentrate on his apparent dilemma. The distraction was unbearable. Unclenching my grip on the collar of my robe, I let my hands fall to my sides.

“Ben, would you please stop that?” I took a deep breath to relax.

“Why, isn’t that what you came to see?” He teased, jacking his perfect tool faster.

Not really wanting him to stop, I endeavored to refocus on his question. Resting my hands on hips, the cinch job on my robe became loose. “All women are different, when it comes to size and stuff,” I lamely remarked, lightly spreading the terrycloth fabric of my robe.

“And stuff, AGAIN! Can’t women ever be specific?” Ben asked, slowing down his strokes to long, tight twists.

“That’s REALLY throwing me off,” I sighed, and gripped more fabric. Now only the slightest amount of the fabric’s elasticity kept my robe from opening.

“I wasn’t hoping to throw you off,” he winked.

“Ben, here’s the deal. Christy is used goods. She’s been around the block, down the highway, and likely across the state, if you catch my meaning. She’s probably stretched out a bit,” I smiled.

“Oh, I see. But, what about the “stuff” part?” He asked, pumping a thin coat of precum over one of the most perfectly formed and circumcised heads I’ve ever seen.

“Oh God,” I shuddered and felt my robe come apart. Reaching for relief, my hand went to my pussy. Fingering myself, my other hand roughly massaged an exposed melon. “The stuff part is the intangible delights that come from the tangibles, well at least for me,” I explained, while his pole seemed to grow bigger.

“So, other women, say yourself, might be okay with this.”

“Oh GOD YES!” I confirmed, as I rubbed and fingered myself to the crest of an orgasm. “Tighter Ben – that’s how it would feel inside me. Tighter Baby!” I urged, feeling my legs going limp.

The stud gripped his cock firmly. Using precum for lubrication, he began jacking harder and faster. “Damn Barb! That would be SO good!”

“It IS! It IS… GOOD! Feel your big cock inside me now. Come with me Baby!” I yelled. My dam broke at that point, imagining his thick manhood filling me up. Deeply fingering my pussy and rubbing my clit, I watched his eyes roll back and tightly shut. His mouth opened. His back arched and heels dug into the mattress, while his young pulsating cock exploded a long stream of white cum.

“OH GOD Barb, you feel so fucking good!” He got out, before a jolt sent him to another climax. This time, gobs of sperm poured out and soaked his tight fist. Pumping and jacking his noisy, sloppy cock, out burst yet another small load. It was all I could do to refrain from jumping on him to savor that sweet reserve of warm cum. The look of shear lust, intense desire, and satisfaction on his face was remarkable. I can’t recall ever giving a man as much pleasure without touching him.

The fragile silence that followed was thick with our mutual desire to somehow complete a shared masturbation. I literally had to pull myself from the magnetic urge to have him hold me. Kisses and sweet caresses would only make things worse. Simply sharing such intimate desires, even miles apart, was so wrong – so naughty – so sweet. The affection and yearning in his eyes had to be enough.

****************

Hostess With the Mostest

Thanksgiving hardly registered on the holiday scale this year. Dinner with Donny and the kids at a posh restaurant, and that was it. It wasn’t until the following weekend, that hubby discussed plans for our annual holiday bash.

The party is one event we both look forward to every year. It allows Donny to splurge and put on a good show for the local construction firms. Since his drywall business relies heavily on their recommendations, it is imperative that everything be top notch and sparkle.

I particularly liked the parties for two reasons: one, we got to have all the food catered; and two, hubby always had me dress to impress. For me, it was like being queen for a day. Considering the guests would be mostly men, Donny notoriously had me dress “festively.” I was generally cool with this, since it meant I’d get plenty of added attention. This year would be no exception, he said.

“Here, see what ya think of this Babe,” he smiled, handing me a large rectangular box tied in velvet ribbon.

“A new party dress for me? How sweet!” I eagerly tore into the wrapping. “My God it’s RED!” I exclaimed pulling the floor-length gown from the box.

Not fire engine red, not candy-apple red, this dress was Santa Claus, deep scarlet red. Holding the strapless garment up for size, the pure white boa-type fringe collar made the dress resemble a giant, curvy red candy stick with icing. The back featured a deep v-cut, essentially ending where my asscrack begins. Trying to visualize what to wear under it, I was pleasantly surprised to see it had built-in cups.

“You haven’t noticed the main attraction, well maybe the second main attraction,” Donny added, pointing to a long revealing slit strategically located dead center in the gown.

“Hmm, how convenient,” I laughed.

“I’m sure you’ll be outstanding in it,” Donny winked, trying to picture me squeezed into such an illuminating outfit.

After a few closed-door fittings, judging from ample amount of skin showing, my husband was correct. I would definitely be the ‘Hostess with the Mostest’ in this creation. The sturdy wired support cups (one size too small) made my double-d’s jut out like a melon vendor’s pushcart. Thank goodness for the white fringe, which buffered that effect somewhat. Dressed in my tallest pumps, the slit ran from the hem to my upper thigh. Depending on how I stood or walked, the slit would open to show a little or a lot of leg. Since I know hubby prefers me in thigh-highs instead of pantyhose, I was concerned whether the netting would show or not. Not wishing to come off like a complete slut, I was happy to find a pair that offered just enough coverage.

The big Saturday arrived a few weeks later. The food, Christmas decorations, and refreshments all went off without a hitch. All I had to do was make sure I made a favorable impression. Guests started arriving before I was absolutely ready to receive them. Re-fixing my ash blonde hairdo one final time, I scrambled out of our bedroom only to bump into Ben in the hallway. The boy hadn’t seen me dressed and was instantly stunned and captivated.

“WOW, don’t you look… appealing.” He settled on a proper adjective, while his leering gaze never strayed from my opulent melon basket.

“It’s not too over the top, is it Ben?” I fretted. Backing away from me, Ben took in the whole ensemble. Silently scanning all of me, I could see he was torn trying to make a practical assessment. Then his hand moved to shift his expanding package. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” I smiled. He returned my smile, just as the doorbell rang again. “I DO apologize kind sir, I must prepare to greet our honored guests,” feigning Scarlett O’Hara.

“Oh wait, I know what I needed to ask you…” Ben suddenly snapped back to reality.

“What’s that?”

“I’ve got a paper due for school and my PC just took a major dump. Can I possibly borrow your laptop?” He asked.

“Sure, it’s on the desk in our bedroom. Just remember to come down and join in the festivities, okay?” I said, scampering off the best I could in elevated heels. Since my stories are password-protected, I had little fear that he would discover anything juicy on my laptop PC.

I lost track of Ben after that, as a growing crowd of men and a smattering of wives arrived. Being surrounded by a bunch of well-dressed, burly, booze-guzzlers pretending to be gentlemen does have its perks. The fact that most of the middle-aged droolers had but one thing on their wicked minds didn’t bother me in the slightest. A woman, at any age, loves basking in the glow of testosterone energy.

The champagne flowed freely. Donny’s jokes were funny. The food was delicious. The flat-chested wives that opted to attend were all underdressed, which only allowed me to garner more attention from their spouses. Basically, everything was right with the world.

The party had been underway for a couple of hours, when Donny stopped me in the kitchen. “Honey, would you check on Ben. I sent him to the basement for more champagne quite some time ago,” my husband interjected between sharing another off-color joke with his cronies.

“No problem, I’ll be right back,” I agreed and turned the corner to attempt the basement stairs in high heels.

The lower level of our house is mostly open, with one unfinished section set aside as a wine cellar. In case the party overflowed, we decorated the still vacant open area. “Ben, are you down here?” I yelled, then caught sight of him facing away from me in the cellar. “What’s up? Can’t you find the champagne?”

“Y-yeah it’s right here. I was just about to…” he hesitated, as I approached.

“So, is there a problem?” I wondered, since he had yet to turn and face me.

“W-well kind of, yes. You see I can’t seem to fix this,” he said, turning around. Watching his eyes lower, I spied his problem. With his zipper down, he had a raging hardon proudly on display. Judging from the pool of cum at his feet, I’d say he had relieved himself more than a few times.

“BEN! What the hell is going on?” I screeched, putting my hands on my hips, and looking like an outraged – but extremely sexy – Mrs. Claus.

“I-I can’t seem to make it stop,” the boy admitted, reaching to continue his endless masturbation. The sight of his reddened cock still leaking from his last climax was entirely unexpected. I would have been completely embarrassed, if it weren’t for that perfectly shaped cockhead. Instead, I let him proceed with the twisted act.

“But how… why now?” I begged for some sort of logical explanation.

“Seeing you in that dress, then I stumbled on something,” he caught himself.

“Stumbled on what?”

Seeing I wouldn’t settle for vague expressions, he took a deep breath and spilled everything. “I started working on my school paper and stumbled on a file called The Process, and I’m pretty sure you wrote it. I KNOW you did!”

Although all my final stories are protected, I generally leave my working journals without passwords. Obviously he read my draft. Now it was me turning an embarrassing shade of crimson. My Pandora’s box of x-rated feelings for the lad had been opened.

“SHIT! I wish you hadn’t found that,” I replied harshly. “Those are very private things. You had no right!” I became more incensed, the more I recalled how sordid many of my writings were.

“I’m SO SORRY Barb. I really am, but…”

“But WHAT?” I grew more pissed off by the second.

“Reading your words made me realize how much I wish you knew what’s been eating away inside of me,” he said, jacking his bruised erection even harder. “How you, how WE couldn’t touch each other, and how we can’t do a damn thing about it. It drives me crazy. YOU drive me crazy!”

“That’s beside the point, Ben. You had no right.”

“I have no right to want every part of you? I have no right to want to throw you down right now and fuck you forever?” His eyes burned, as his cock-stroking became a blur.

When he took steps toward me a fear swept through me. I’d never seen such a lust-filled intensity from him. Stumbling backwards, I tried catching myself on the wine racks. My precarious hold on the shelves left me unbalanced. Ben reached out with his free hand for my shoulder. I don’t know if he was reaching to help me, or push me down. Either way, I ended up on my knees, practically ripping my gown. I pushed back to return to my feet. That’s when I was greeted with his cock inches from my face.

“NO! No!” I pushed against his pelvis. That strong free hand of his slid behind my head. It may not have been the most opportune time to indulge our fantasies, considering my state-of-mind and circumstance. However, one can not always pick just the right moment. At least that was my last contemplation, before opening my mouth to accept his ready weapon.

His pre-lubed manhood easily filled my mouth, as I reached to replace his hand with mine. Gripping his thickness, I heard him utter a wonderful sigh, like he’d just conquered Mt. Everest. Being this was his cock’s maiden voyage into a female mouth, I definitely wanted to leave him the sweetest of memories. His deep moans and groans told me I was on the right track.

Bobbing my head back and forth, I felt more pressure on my head. Quickly ripping his ten-inch rod from my mouth, I forewarned him, “Let me do this my way Darlin’; next time we’ll do it your way.” I looked up and gave him a devilish, all-knowing grin. He nodded and let go of my head.

After running my tongue in rapid circles around his perfect cockhead, I opened up and consumed it. Inching more of his young beast into my throat, I tripped my gag reflex and forced more and more of it inside. Grasping his ass with both hands for leverage, I totally deep-throated his incredible love muscle. This sent him floundering in a sea of super charged emotions. His deep, sweet masculine groans of ultimate pleasure mixed with my feminine pleas for more.

“Yeah Baby, let me have your hot cum. C’mon now, fill me up,” I urged, jacking and sucking his rock-hard dick.

“Oh Jesus, I can’t… can’t HOLD it!” Ben yelled, as I clamped my teeth just behind his large, finely chiseled circumcised head. Throbbing with an unconscious primal desire, his thickness grew slightly larger. “OH GOD!” The inevitable release. Like a loaded 45, his young spunk shot clear to the back of my throat in one long stream. Full-throttled pulses followed, pumping more starchy gravy into my mouth, until I could hardly keep up. Trying to grip the base of his rod, to sustain and heighten his pleasure, was out of the question. This first go around had to be a quickie. Intuition told me tasting this young man’s syrup wouldn’t be limited to a singular event.

Savoring his sweet virginal juices, I got to my feet. “GOD, I’ve never felt anything like that EVER!” He exclaimed, reaching over to rest his hand in my cleavage.

“I’ll take that as a Thank You,” I smiled, but smoothly pulled his hand away. “We don’t have time for this now. Guests and everything. Grab a few bottles here,” I advised. Taking a couple of bottles of champagne myself, I turned and headed back to the stairway. Sensing we’d been downstairs for a while, I quickened my pace up the steps. I assumed Ben was directly behind me.

“What a fun, yummy taste, but I’d better rinse my mouth,” I thought, as I deposited the unopened bottles and walked down the hall toward the guest bathroom. As I reached for the door knob a hand gripped my wrist from nowhere.

“In a big hurry there little lady,” a tinny male voice said.

“Kip! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” I answered, pulling my hand from the knob.

Kip Sinclair, Bob’s son is the heir-apparent to Sinclair Construction, and a generously spoiled fuckup. Just the touch of the nerdy little weasel made me queasy.

“Having a good time?” I asked, still trying to figure why he was still holding on.

“Not bad, but I expect to have an even better time now,” he piped up, with a trebly voice reminiscent of an ex-gymnast.

I finally twisted my wrist from his grasp. “Oh, and why is that?” I wondered. Actually I couldn’t care less what kind of time he had. Donny was more into placating his father. Kip was no more than a squeaky wheel his father had to grease, so his wife wouldn’t bitch.

“After what I just saw, I think you and I should have a great time,” the weasel smirked. Staring him straight in the eyes, it was evident that Ben and I had an unexpected audience. Scanning the hallway and ceiling for a clever, calculated response, I was at a loss. “I mean, unless you’re okay with all your guests knowing you’re into screwing the help?” Kip threatened.

“Shit! Come here you,” I said, quickly opening the bathroom door, and pushing him in. The 35-year-old loser reassembled from my push and assumed his perception of a power stance, while I checked my makeup in the mirror.

There was no way I would let this little creep upset my husband’s party. Moreover, a scandal, even reported from such a weasel, would be extremely detrimental to hubby’s chances at winning any future contracts. The infidelity issue was something I could explain to Donny, but the repercussions from something like this could wipe us out.
“Okay Kip, what will it take to shut you up – a blowjob, will that do?” I asked, briskly turning to face him.

“S-sure, we could start there,” the spineless turd gloated like he’d just won the lottery.

Spreading the long slit in my gown, I reached and grabbed enough fabric to hike it up, before going to my knees. Like the common whore I’m sure he thought of me, I unbuckled and unzipped him. Fishing around inside his boxers, I found his mini-mackerel. “Jesus, this flaccid worm can’t be more than a few inches long,” I thought, whipping out his pencil dick. Heaven knows, I’ve dealt with my share of short skinny dicks, but this was possibly the worst case.

Shaking my head in disgust, I jacked – actually just stretched – his dick, trying to get something of size to work with.

“Just SUCK it Bitch!” He clamored, after the stretching had little effect.

Swallowing my pride, certainly not Kip’s poor excuse for a wiener, I closed my mouth around the entire whopping length of him. Applying the same skills to his miniscule manhood was virtually impossible. Instead, I tried to make the process at least sound like a blowjob. After about three minutes, the poor guy’s erection was about as hard as it would get.

“Man, you don’t suck cock worth a shit! Get up here so I can fuck you,” he demanded.

“Oh THIS should be interesting,” I said to myself, getting back on my feet. Hiking my gown up, I pulled my dark red panties down. Turning around and leaning over the basin, I made a mental bet with myself. There’s no way this little pipsqueak could possibly accomplish anything close to fucking me. After attempting a lame poke at my pussy, he opted to do me in the ass.

Gritting my teeth for any number of reasons, I felt his dick rimming my asshole. Considering I was completely dry, I was somewhat surprised when he was able to edge it inside. Problem is, pleasurable ass-fucking requires a certain state-of-mind, at least from the fuckee’s perspective. Unfortunately, all I could think was how I needed to squeeze out this turd. On the other side of the fence, Cowboy Kip was having the time of his life, guffawing and slapping my ass like he just mastered bronco riding.

Kip’s accompanying whoops and ass smacks must have been loud enough to get someone’s attention. The next thing I knew, the door flew open and Ben grabbed Kip in a combination choke/arm hold. Out plopped the turd, as Kip coughed and pulled against Ben’s death grip.

“Jesus Ben, don’t kill the little fucker,” I said, seeing veins on Kip’s face about to pop.

“I can’t believe you want to do this idiot,” Ben stated.

“HELL NO! The son-of-a-bitch saw us in the cellar. He said everyone would find out, unless I did him,” I explained, pulling up my panties.

“Oh, so that’s the deal,” Ben released his grip. “Listen you little shit. If I hear ANYTHING about that from ANYBODY, I’ll hunt your sorry ass down, and that will be the end of you. Do you understand?”

The sputtering cowpoke could manage little more than a sheepish nod, as a normal color returned to his face, and he tucked himself in. Heading past him toward the door, I took the opportunity to add an exclamation point to Ben’s threat, and slapped Kip full on the cheek. I wondered how things would play out with Kip down the road. However for now, Ben took on the added dimension of hero in my eyes. Mousy Kip disappeared quickly after that. Ben and I returned to the waning party, without mentioning the incident.

****************

The Gift That Keeps on Giving

“It was a pretty good showing, don’t ya think?” Donny asked, as the two of us undressed for bed.

“Yeah, everybody we invited showed and most everyone seemed happy. I’d say it was a success,” I added, prying the sexy gown off.

“Most everyone? Did we have a party pooper?” my husband asked, crawling between the sheets.

“Let’s just say, I doubt if Kip Sinclair had a very good time,” I smirked.

“That little prick, what’s HIS problem?”

“I think you hit that nail right on the proverbial head,” I snickered, pulling on my nightie.

“What’s so funny?”

“Okay, I wasn’t going to mention it, but…”

“But WHAT already?”

“Promise you won’t be too upset?” I begged for a little understanding.

“Hey, I’m not promising ANYTHING; now tell me.”

I started from the beginning, including going down on Ben in the cellar. This got a raised eyebrow and some mild head-shaking from Donny. Next I reported Kip’s attempted blackmailing antics in the bathroom, and Ben’s subsequent solution. Donny was expectedly quite upset with Kip the weasel, but seemed relieved to hear how Ben handled the predicament.

After pondering the whole distasteful sequence, Donny added, “Do you realize that boy may just have saved my business, and certainly my standing in the community! I know Kip. He’ll crawl under a rock now and no one will ever be the wiser.”

“I hope so. I’m just glad you’re not too upset with Ben and I,” I said, running my hand over his upper arm.

“Upset? Hell no. I’ve seen the looks between you two. I figured you had gone a lot further than blowjobs, by now,” hubby smiled and kissed the palm of my hand.

“Actually that was his first one, from me or anyone else,” I admitted.

“Really? What about the Christy, the brick shithouse?”

Donny was amazed that he had missed out on the whole tragic scenario with Ben and Christy. I assumed guys tell each other stuff all the time. Apparently Ben didn’t feel the need to, or was too embarrassed to discuss it with his boss. Of course, I left out my early morning masturbation fun with the boy.

I could hear Donny’s wheels churning, as he silently processed all this new information. I nodded off to sleep. Following a long silence, he shook me awake. “So, what would you say to fucking him?” Donny blurted into my ear.

“Who… Ben?”

“NO, the damn milkman. Yes, Ben,” hubby waited.

“Hmm, I not sure. Depends on whether you could deal with it or not,” I passed the buck.

“Don’t worry about me on this. I KNOW you love me. We love each other unconditionally, right?” He submitted.

I nodded, realizing that may be the true essence of our long-term relationship. No matter what happens; no matter how many Alicias and Bens come along; we know we will always have a special bond between us. A bond that keeps the light of our marriage on and the passion burning. Heaven knows we put that bond to the test quite a bit when we were younger. The years rolled on and we didn’t have the same chances to see if the bond was still intact. Evidently it is. I peacefully rolled off into slumberland, without really giving him a concise response regarding Ben.

The following uneventful week trudged along like any other work week. The three of us went off to our jobs, with nothing more said relating to the party, etc. That was until Friday afternoon. I answered my cell phone. It was Donny calling, “Be at the Best Western tonight at 8 p.m., Suite 12-B, and dress for sex.”

“That’s it? What should I…” I searched for words, when I heard a click on the other end.

He hung up on me. “Hmm, guess I’ll figure the rest out myself.” Donny hadn’t pulled anything unexpected like this for ions, so I was genuinely surprised.

The spontaneity and mystery of his call left me in sweet anticipation for the rest of the day. Having several hours for self-beautification and shopping for extra naughty lingerie worked neatly into my schedule. By eight o’clock, I had made my way across town and checked into Suite 12-B (otherwise referred to as their Wedding Suite).

I choose virginal white for my sexy ensemble. However, after scanning myself in the room’s floor-length mirror, perhaps virginal is not the first description that came to mind. A lacy white satin bustier with matching garter belt, hose and French cut panties came closer to resembling a post-Victorian streetwalker’s attire. Donning a super-sheer, see-though white peignoir, I pried my size sevens into a new pair of 3-inch tall white patent leather pumps. Brushing back my ashblond locks, I attached both extra long silver earrings, and gave my lips an extra swipe of deep red gloss. The contrast of my newly acquired golden tan and highlighted blonde hair against the pure white satiny backdrop was subtle yet sensuous as hell. “If I do say so (and I do), I look just as delicious in white, as I do in black or any other damn color,” I defied the mirror.

Checking the time, it was now close to twenty after eight, and still no hubby. A knock on the door followed by, “room service” came a few seconds later. Wrapping the gown tightly around me, and not knowing if this was another of Donny’s pranks, I answered the door. It wasn’t Donny. It wasn’t motel staff either.

“BEN, what the hell?” I almost shrieked.

“Hi, glad to see you too,” Ben was toting a magnum of champagne already chilling in its container, as his eyebrows danced at seeing my outfit.

“I – I thought Donny…”

“Before you start jumping to conclusions, can I come in?”

“Ah yeah, I suppose,” I remained somewhat stunned, as Ben hauled the champagne inside.

“Maybe this will help explain,” he said, producing an envelope from his coat pocket.

Closing the door behind Ben, I opened the envelope and read the note. The handwriting was unmistakably that of my husband. It read: “The bearer of this note is a gift to you for tonight. Have fun, and know I love you madly, Me.”

“What’s it say?” Ben asked, popping the cork.

“Just that… that I should enjoy the champagne. How sweet of him.” I lied.

“You’re lying,” Ben smiled. “He discussed everything with me, before dropping me off tonight.”

“You bastard! God, are all men bastards!” I said, taking a full glass of bubbly from him, and downing it immediately. “So, what did he say to YOU?” I asked, letting him pour me another glassful.

Young Ben recounted Donny’s appreciation for his dealing with Kip Sinclair at the party. In fact, he was most appreciative. He went on to inform the young man that he was aware that there were feelings between the two of us. “What really freaked me out was when he asked if I wanted to make love to you,” Ben recalled.

“So, what did you say?”

“Like I said, it really freaked me out. I kinda froze,” Ben admitted.

“Well, I’m SO glad he feels free to offer me as some sort of reward,” I said sarcastically.

“That’s really not how he came off. I think he was and IS quite concerned about you and how you feel about the idea. He said you two had discussed it.”

“Yeah, he brought it up, but nothing was resolved,” I stated, downing another glass.

“He must believe it was resolved, or why would he set us up like this?” Ben wondered. “I can understand if you’re pissed about all of this. Maybe I should just leave,” he added.

“Maybe you should,” I agreed, and poured another glass. Ben turned to leave, when the sudden shots of champagne finally hit me upside the head. Standing and trying to keep my balance in the new pumps, I reached to his turning shoulder for support. He stopped dead in his tracks, while I shook the initial jolts of the alcohol from my spinning head.

“At least you could notice my new wardrobe,” I said, begging for some sort of male appreciation.

“Oh I noticed! You look incredible, Barb. I mean, you always look great to me, but this… WOW!” He exclaimed.

Pushing back from him, I struck a more suggestive pose, and opened the peignoir.

“Yes, very nice!” He said.

I pushed both his shoulders, hard enough for him to fall back onto the king-sized bed. Pulling the gown over my shoulders, I shot him a sexy glare.

“Barb, what are you doing?” Ben asked, as I left the gown fall to the carpet.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I smiled and batted my lashes.

“Are you be trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson?” he quipped.

I laughed, “Why Benjamin, what makes you… that’s funny, your name IS Ben!” I snickered at The Graduate implication. “I suppose I could be trying to seduce you,” I said, turning my back to him and raising my hair. “Would you get that please?” I asked, turning my head, as he slowly undid the long zipper on my bustier.

“I know I’ll kick myself for saying this, but you really don’t have to do this on my account,” Ben said, smiling from ear to ear.

Turning around to face him, I slowly pulled away the bustier. “The note said you’re my gift for tonight. See, I’m not the type of girl that gets a gift and leaves it up on a shelf to admire it. That’s fine for blown glass. No, I like to make use of MY gifts.” I said, peeling my panties over my broad hips, down my white-hosed legs, and off. “You’re certainly not blown glass now are you?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Ben shook his head. “I don’t think I could ever give permission for another guy to have you, I mean, if you were my wife,” Ben lamented, as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

“That’s sweet Ben, but it hardly falls under the category of things you should worry yourself about,” I said, scooting back to prop myself against the headboard. “You wouldn’t be trying to talk yourself out of this; I thought you found me appealing?”

“God YES, you know that!” He turned to face me. Spreading my legs, I raised one and ran my hand seductively between them. I could easily ascertain he was at war with himself. Morality versus infidelity – a classic conflict. Peeling off his shirt, he stood at the bedside, while I began pleasing myself. I reached with my free hand to undo his fly. He kicked off his shoes, stripped his socks down, and unbuckled. As his pants fell in a heap, I dug in his shorts to collect his expected hardon. His thick fleshy muscle, although an admirable handful, wasn’t close to being the long rigid shaft I expected.

“All this IS bothering you, isn’t it Ben?” I asked, slowly jacking his sleeping beast.

Ben’s eyes said it all. He was at once ashamed of his lack of arousal, and still bewildered about the right and wrong of everything. I scooted farther over to make room for him to join me in bed.

“Here, lie down. Let’s talk about this. If it bothers you that much, we should discuss it,” I offered my hand. Pulling the bedcovers back, I crawled between the sheets.

Lying together, nearly naked for the first time, I turned on my side to face him. Drawing imaginary circles on his bicep, I incidentally rubbed my fleshy jugs against him. “I wan