Bean Counter Ch. 06byCreamer©
I had taken great care in setting up the living room for the evening – there were scented candles everywhere, and some very mellow jazz on the sound system. I had opened out the obscenely expensive fold-out sofa bed that Mary had insisted upon and we had never used, and put the most luxurious sheets I owned on it. There was a bright, nutty merlot breathing in the night air, and a fire in the fireplace helped bathe the room in a soft, flickering glow. I ate a Spartan dinner and popped a little blue pill. If I was going to be fucking my wife, one last time, I wanted to make the occasion . . . memorable. Viagra would help me do that.
It was almost nine-thirty when she showed up. She was wearing that same long cloth coat of her mother's, and a somewhat grim expression. I had purposefully refrained from spying on her in order to be genuinely surprised at what outfit she had chosen. As I let her in from the chilly night, she walked by me and I smelled her hair and popped an instant boner.
She looked a little guilty, but I needed to remind her about the "pretend to enjoy it" part of our deal once – after that, she smiled and did seem to get into the idea a bit. I inquired about Tim to the extent that I heard he was out of jail – and that mention, alone, was enough to make her blush guiltily. She nodded, and asked for a glass of wine.
I ushered her into the living room, which made her gasp a little.
"This is gorgeous, Bill," she admitted quietly. "But why not in the bedroom?"
I felt my gut tighten. "That's my marriage bed," I said, quietly. She stared a moment, then nodded. "Where do you want me?" she asked, unbuttoning her coat in a half-hearted show of seduction.
"How about you dance for me for a while?" I asked, sitting down with my drink on the loveseat.
"Dance?" she asked, forehead wrinkled. "Like, how, dance?"
"Like you're an expensive whore entertaining a client, dance," I supplied. She started to argue, a bout of self-consciousness starting to overcome her, but then she relented, shrugged, and dropped her coat in a heap on the floor.
I inhaled involuntarily. She was wearing a black teddy and garter-belt combo, with real silk stockings and enough lift in the bra to give her bust a lot more cleavage than she was legally entitled to. She turned around and waved her sexy silk-panty-clad ass in my face. I reached out and caressed it. "Dance," I repeated.
She swallowed hard and then surprised me by actually giving it a try. She moved a little stiffly, at first, but by the time she had drained half her glass she was gyrating her body very attractively. Ordinarily Mary is quite demure when it comes to displaying her body – she almost never got on top because of her self-consciousness. But the particulars of her situation apparently gave her adequate reason to throw propriety to the wind and shake that ass.
"Lovely," I whispered appreciatively. I let her entertain me thus for a good ten minutes, then I nodded towards my crotch. "Suck me off, first," I commanded. "I don't want to explode too soon. Don't worry," I added as I set my drink down. "It'll count towards your total."
She nodded silently and sank gracefully to her knees. I let her do the honors of actually unzipping my fly and bringing my raging erection out into the candle light. She blew softly across the head a few times while she stroked the shaft, bringing a copious drop of pre-seminal fluid to the head, where she daintily licked it off.
The constant practice must be having an effect, I thought with a lustful sigh as she studiously encircled the head of my cock with her tongue. She licked the tip playfully and slowly, alternating butterfly flicks with long, strong suction of just the head. Meanwhile her hand pumped steadily on the base. She even managed a small moan as another big dollop of pre-cum rose to the top.
She slowly sank her lips down the length of the shaft, taking more of me in her mouth than she had ever done before. I could feel the head pressing up against the back of her throat. She lingered there, with my cock deep inside her mouth, and then she started slowly bobbing.
It was slow and methodical, but it was not perfunctory. She was enjoying this, I could tell. Whether it was the whore clothes, the whore job, or the simple fact that she was horny as hell and had a dick in her mouth, I couldn't tell – nor did I care much. This was the kind of blowjob I'd gotten plenty of our newlywed year, the loving variety. She was performing, here, demonstrating the depth of her feeling. Whether or not I was part of that sensual equation in her head, I didn't know. I did know I was reaping the rewards, however, and I encouraged it.
I let her steer. She made her own pace and tempo, keeping it slow even when I desperately wanted her to speed it up. But I resisted the temptation to insist, and let her work. Twenty minutes later, while she was cupping my scrotum in her soft hands and sucking powerfully on my glans, I could stand it no more and I unloaded a silver stream of sperm into her mouth. She sucked it all down and swallowed without visible discomfort. Could it be she was actually getting used to swallowing?
"Better?" she whispered softly, her lips parted and moist from my load and her saliva.
"Much," I agreed, letting out a huge and heartfelt post-orgasmic sigh. "That was superlative."
"Thanks," she said, airily. "I've been practicing."
I didn't rise to the bait. Instead I got up and refilled both of our glasses. While she was drinking I asked her to pose for me, and watched as she shifted from one exotic position to another. She showed off her ass to me. She cupped her own tits for me. She spread her legs invitingly and gave me sultry looks. Either the inspiration at her form or the Viagra was responsible for my second erection – I didn't much care. Ten minutes of casual poses had put the lead back into my pencil, and I was ready for more before she finished the second glass of wine.
I directed her to join me on the sofa bed, where I lay down and removed the rest of my clothes. I caught her staring despite herself – I had been working out quite a bit, and it showed. She joined me and started stroking my chest. I tried to pull her in for a kiss, but she pulled away. "Whores don't kiss on the lips," she reminded me. "It's too . . . intimate."
"So noted," I said with a shrug. Her sister didn't mind kissing – but then again, her sister wasn't the whore tonight. I let her rub me down instead, feeling me from my thighs to my neck, then retracing the path with her swollen nipples. She would grab my cock and give it a few firm strokes before moving to other parts. After another five minutes of this treatment, Mr. Happy was as stiff as a life-sentence.
"How do you want to do this?" she asked casually. She might have been playing coy and disinterested, but I could see the fire of arousal in her eyes.
"Just climb on for now," I commanded. "We'll shift positions in a moment." She nodded silently then moved to straddle me, and for the second time that day she was getting my full length deep into her pussy. Despite her usual protests about the light being on or otherwise being uncomfortable, she began rocking herself on my cock with determination.
Now in six years of marriage, I had rarely been able to last more than a half-hour, even after blowing my wad the first time. Thanks to Viagra, however, I was just getting started a half-hour later, not even panting for breath or desperately willing my orgasm away. I was primed for long-term fucking.
Her first climax arrived quickly, a long and shuddering explosion that contorted her hips in an obscene ballet. She leaned forward, involuntarily, and put her tits within the reach of my mouth. I didn't hesitate: I leaned up, captured a nipple through the whisper-thin cloth of her teddy, and began sucking and nibbling. That sent her into orgasm #2, and after that I quite worrying about her pleasure and started focusing on my needs. I grabbed her hips as they made slow, intense circles and began controlling their direction and speed to suit my needs.
My forceful gesture had an effect – orgasm #3 – but I barely paid attention. I wanted to pump this bitch on my cock like she really was a whore. I tilted my hips and slammed into her from undernethe for a good ten minutes, leaving her sweaty and worn and her eyes glazed over from too much stimulation. But she wanted it, or acted like she did. She pumped her ample hips up and down in my crotch, and I noted, for the first time, that she was putting on just the barest hint of weight around her pregnant tummy.
For some reason that infuriated me, and after enjoying her fucking my cock like that for a while I flipped over and began to hammer at her missionary style. I was inspired – there's no other way to describe it. I was convinced that tonight she'd walk away convinced that she had never had been fucked like that before in her life. I pounded into her with barely-restrained ferocity, grinding her clit between our pelvic bones like a lone grain of wheat in a grist mill. The expression on her face was priceless: sexual enchantment, surprise, and just a hint of fear. I found that gratifying, and redoubled my efforts.
When I had fucked her on top for a good twenty minutes I pulled out – eliciting a disappointed moan from her – and silently encouraged her to flip over and offer me her glorious buttocks. I gave them a playful slap as she got unsteadily into position, then brutally hammered into her pussy from behind. She collapsed onto her shoulders, giving me even greater access, and for another half-hour straight I used her damnably. Her moans became shrieks, her shrieks became screams, and we both quickly lost count of the number of brain-chilling orgasms her body forced out of her. I watched with satisfaction as the sweat on her back pooled in the very middle of her lumbar region, and vowed not to stop until I was damn good and ready to.
By the time I pushed frantically into her cunt one last time and unleashed my seed into her occupied womb, she was nearly unconscious. I smiled with satisfaction before I collapsed on the pillow, breathing hard.
"Damn!" she whispered, when she found her voice again. "Just . . . damn!"
"That was pretty good," I conceded, catching my breath.
" 'Pretty good'?" she repeated, astonished. "That was the best you've ever fucked me. Ever."
"It wasn't really about you," I pointed out.
"You know, I didn't mind so much," she breathed with a grin. "Damn!"
We lay there in the firelight for a good ten minutes, silently watching the flames and letting the endorphins take over. She had her head on my arm. For the smallest of moments, it was like we had never split.
"Bill?" she asked, finally. "Who were you out with when I called last night?"
"Just a lady friend," I answered, after a pause.
"You're . . . dating?"
"Not that it's any of your business," I said. "But yes. Why wouldn't I?"
"Well, I am giving you head pretty often," she pointed out. "I just didn't think that you'd . . . need . . . anyone . . ."
"Dating is more than just sex," I chided. "I'm going to be back on the market, soon. I've got to keep my prospects open."
"So . . . you aren't having sex with her?"
"That's really not—"
"—my business, I know," she admitted. "Just curious. It's just hard to imagine you . . . with another woman," she finally said.
I had to laugh. "You know, I felt the same thing about you," I said, coolly.
"That's a little different," she objected. "I fell in love with him."
"And I'm sure I'll fall in love with one of them, too," I countered.
" 'One of them'? Then there's been more than one?"
"Mary," I began, warningly, "you didn't come here to discuss my personal life."
"I know," she said, a little bitterly. "I came here to f-f-fuck you. And I did," she added.
"Yes, you surely did," I sighed, amused. "And pretty good, too. Hey, you wanna make a little extra? A tip?" I asked, suddenly inspired.
"What do I have to do?" she asked, warily. "And . . . how much?"
"Another fifty," I said, casually. "And I just want you to suck me a little longer."
She shrugged. "Okay. Let me get a washcloth," she said, starting to rise.
"No," I said, grabbing her arm gently. "Don't bother."
"But . . . it's all . . . icky!" she complained, making a face. "I mean, it's got ME all over it!"
"Yeah, I know," I said, grinning softly. "That's what makes it worth another fifty."
I watched the wheels turn as she debated with herself over the act – she had never enjoyed even the smell of her own juices, much less the infrequent accidental tastes she had had over the years. To do what I asked was quite foreign to her. I honestly didn't think she'd do it – but I had to ask.
To my surprise she slowly made her way down to my groin, and after some soul searching and some cock-stroking, she started licking the head again. I could feel our combined juices, already drying, coming off in her mouth as she cleaned my cock. Still under the influence of Viagra, it wasn't long before I was hard as stone again. Mary didn't slow down. She might have been making a horrible face the whole time, but from my angle I couldn't tell – or care. The fact that she was doing it was reward enough – well worth the money. She stopped after a good ten minutes, and then, to my utter astonishment, she slid on top again.
"I can't help it," she moaned. "It's my hormones. I've been so ridiculously horny since I got pregnant." While that made me mad again, she was riding the baloney pony like the best cowgirl on earth. I let her work herself up to a fevered pitch, then flipped over and pounded her again from the top.
The third time for me was, by definition, going to last a while, and I did. Hell, it was my fourth orgasm of the day, after four the previous day. If it hadn't been for Pecker's Little Helper I would have collapsed dead an hour before. But I rose to the occasion and fucked her with every ounce of fury I had in me. It took most of an hour for me to reach climax, in which time she had half a dozen. When I finally came, deep inside her, I rolled off. "That probably put some dents in junior's forehead," I quipped.
She wasn't amused, but she was too wasted to say anything about it. I let her recover, then got her coat for her. I slipped fifty dollars into her bra before she buttoned it up. She was on her way out when she noticed something.
"Hey, where did the pictures go?" she asked, pointing to the entertainment center that once had a visual chronicle of our life together.
"I thought it prudent to relocate them," I explained. "Hard to seduce a woman with your ex-wife's pictures sitting around. Makes them a little uncomfortable."
She stewed about that, but didn't have a ready answer. I could tell it hurt her feelings, though, that I had left pictures of her parents and sister up. But of her there was no trace. I could also tell she didn't like the idea of me seeing other women, or having them over in what she still considered her house. That amused me all the more, and as I heard her shitty Gremlin cough to life and head down the road I fixed myself a drink and reflected on the events of the day. In half an hour I booted up the computer and brought up the window that spied into her new world.
Tim the Dickless was sitting in bed, naked – a less than pleasant sight. He had moved the television into the bedroom, and from the noises it was making he was extremely engrossed in a bad zombie movie. It took Mary another ten minutes to get there, and I answered email and otherwise killed time until I heard the front door open.
"I'm home, jailbird!" she sang.
"In here!" Tim called out. "I'm naked," he added a few moments later.
"I'll alert the press," she shot back.
"Have a good dick sucking?"
"You're so goddam crude!" she replied, annoyed. She still hadn't come into camera range.
"What?" he protested. "That's what you were doing, weren't you?"
"Yeah," she agreed, after a moment's hesitation. "But I hate it when you talk that way. It's a . . . business relationship. And I'm doing it for you," she reminded him.
"Yeah, I know. I feel so . . . loved." Asshole.
"Don't sweat it, baby," she soothed. "I think he's getting bored. I only got to do him once, tonight."
"Only . . . how many to go?"
"Less than a hundred and forty," she said, wistfully.
"That's a lot of sperm."
"Yeah," she agreed, tiredly. "Yeah, it is."
"Sorry about that," he said. "I didn't think it would go down like that. I figured he'd knuckle, the moment we got in there with the lawyer."
"Some lawyer," she said derisively.
"Yeah, I know. Hey, you wanna come watch this?"
"Yeah, let me change, first," she said.
"No, no, I wanna see what Dollar Bill got, tonight. I was asleep when you left."
Reluctantly she came into view, wearing the same outfit she had left here in. Somehow she didn't look so enchanting in the grainy, low-res camera. In fact, she looked kind of cheap. But Dickless was impressed. "Wow!" he said, immediately grabbing his dick. "What the fuck?"
"It was part of the deal to borrow the money," she said, resigned. "He wanted a little more control over the blowjobs. A little more fantasy fulfillment. It doesn't bother me," she said, just a little too intensely to be credible.
"So you have to wear slutgear for him, now?"
"It's not as bad as all that. Hell, he bought it for me," she reminded him. "He's seen me in it before."
"Yeah, I know," he said, a little miserably. "When you agreed to do this, I just remember hearing how it would be a series of quick drive-by BJs. I don't like the thought of him staring at you like that while you suck his cock."
"Look, it was before you got yourself arrested," she countered. "He was pretty decent about the whole thing, actually. In a coercive sort of way. But he never made me do anything, and he let me set the schedule. This is just a little . . . extra. For getting you out of jail, it was a small price to pay."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said, glumly. Then he got on his knees, slid over to the side of the bed, and began kissing her. It went from 'tender and romantic' to 'I want to sodomize you' in less than seven seconds. He stuck his hand in her panties and invaded her pussy with his fingers, while holding her hand at bay with his other hand. He broke the kiss.
"Jesus, you're soaked!" I could almost feel her embarrassment in palpable waves.
"I . . . can't help it," she said. "The clothes, the . . . I got a little warm, is all."
"And swollen up, too! DAMN you must be horny!" he said with a leer.
"Actually, I'm kind of tired," she said quickly, pulling his hand out of her panties by his wrist. "I'd really like to crash. It's been an eventful day."
"Bullshit! You're panties are SOAKED! Oh, no, I can't let my woman suffer like that," he said, pulling her down on the bed. "That would be bad for the baby! Let me help you out with your little problem," he said as he pulled her panties off of her. Despite her protests, he buried his face in her furry twat and started licking her.
I almost fell off of my chair, laughing. He was licking up my spooge.
This was better than football! I watched with glee as he went after her sore clit like a dog after a bone, making hungry noises all the way. Mary looked terrified, but his tongue on her hypersensitive clit was soon taken prisoner by her young lover. "You really don't have to do that!" she insisted. "Oh, I love eating pussy!" he said, and sounded so stupid I almost fell off my chair again. He went back to her clit with renewed gusto, and she came a moment later. I give him some credit – he was enthusiastic – but I also would have to guess that Mary was so sensitive the Gremlin would have given her an orgasm on a particularly bumpy road.