Cock of Ages Ch. 04

"Wanna find out?" she asked, sultrily.

"Aren't you married?" I reminded her. Just being a gentleman.

"To a buggerer," she said. "And an adulterous buggerer, too."

"Do two wrongs make a right?" I teased, touching her arm intimately. She shivered.

"Right now they do," she assured me. "He hasn't touched me in months. I hardly know you, but since we're trapped down here for the next hour, anyway . . . well, it's getting pretty hot in here, don't you think?" she asked. She was right. I nodded. "And if that hatch up there works properly, it should keep out radiation. It would also keep some secrets in, too."

I smiled wolfishly. "You don't need to convince me," I said. "I thought you were beautiful the moment I set eyes on you."

That's all it took. She was in my arms in a flash, passionately kissing me while trying to strip off her shirt at the same time. I returned her passion in the kiss, and helped her with the disrobing. Her boobs weren't huge, about B-cup, actually, bigger than I thought, but once I loosed them from that Maidenform monstrosity they were quite charming, with little pink eraser-tip nipples that begged to be sucked. So I did.

She let out a loud low groan as my lips captured them, one after another, and she scooted in to face me, clutching my head to her breast. I reached around and grabbed her ass through her skirt, felt how firm it was, and then sought out her knees to I could get my hands under her skirt. I pulled them over the length of her thighs, caressing all the way, and she damn near swooned. She had firm, slightly skinny legs, but she also sported a pretty decent ass under all of those clothes.

"I can't . . . I can't believe I'm . . . doing this," she panted in the stifling heat of the shelter.

"You deserve it," I encouraged her. "A man shouldn't deny his wife like that, even if he does prefer sucking dick to eating pussy," I said, crudely. I had a feeling about Patricia, and I was borne out a moment later when she attacked me. She had a dirty mouth, and her 1950s sensibilities were just waiting for permission to cut loose with it. When I got crude, she got her permission.

"That son-of-a-bitch never eats my goddamn pussy," she breathed, in between kisses. "But he still wants me to suck his tiny goddamn dick! Nothing but a goddamn faggot-assed bitch!"

"And this pussy needs some tending to," I replied heatedly, as my hands dug their way into her panties and found her furry bush. I roughly probed the excited labia and fingered it until I found her clitoris, then savagely rubbed it. This was no time for tenderness. Her knees buckled in response. I knew it. She wasn't in the mood for delicate romance.

"Oh, GOD, that feels good!" she moaned as she brazenly pressed her cunt against my hand.

"So does this," I said, pushing her to the chair and unzipping my fly. She batted my hands away and did it herself, quickly, and let my dick spring forth. Her eyes got wide. Apparently her homo hubby didn't have this much pork in his pocket.

"I didn't know they could get that big," she said, in awe. If only I had a nickel for every time I heard that.

"More than a mouthful is a waste," I quoted. "Let's see how much you have to waste." I pulled her head to my groin and she took the bait, swallowing my dick as deeply as she could in that first thrust. She gave a little moan of fulfillment as my meat filled her mouth to overflowing. She wasn't shy, however, and her tongue was instantly busy welcoming every spot on my cock she could reach.

"That's the stuff," I sighed. "Suck that cock, you randy little slut!" She moaned again at the words, her lips sliding gracefully up the length of the shaft, then back down again. At least Albert trained her up right for that. Or she had some natural talent. Either way, I was enjoying the ride tremendously.

"Do it in my mouth," she begged when she took a break. "I want you to fuck me, but I want you to spray in my mouth, so I know what real man cream tastes like for a change!"

"Oh, I can fuck you, too," I assured her. "I haven't gotten laid in over a year, and you're the sexiest bitch I've seen in all that time!" Both were lies, of course, but they also served to encourage her to redouble her efforts to make me cum. Her hand worked its way under my balls and began a lovely massage, while her lips pressed tightly against the shaft of my dick.

I decided to help her out a bit, and took her head in my hands and fucked her face for a few minutes. She reveled in the loss of control, but pushed my hands away to catch her breath a moment later. "God, I love that!" she declared between breaths.

She sucked on the head while she stroked the shaft, licking the glans delicately. Pat stared up at me with those big, sad eyes, and I moaned in delight. She wanted real man sperm? I'd give her a healing load to swallow that she'd never forget. Sensing I was close, she started pistoning her head down again, and in moments I was blasting her tonsils with my spooge. She swallowed with only a little difficulty, but seemed to relish the taste as she did so.

"Damn! I'm almost satisfied with that!" she said, happily.

"I'm not," I replied, gruffly, and picked her up to sit her on the table. Mission said I had to fuck her, so she was gonna get fucked. I took her seat and pushed up her skirt. I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her panties, and then paused as she stared at me, dazed. "When was the last time someone really ate you good?" I asked, my eyes narrowed.

"God, since long before Al!" she said, lustfully. "He says it makes him ill."

"Who?" I inquired.

"A . . . boy in the neighborhood," she admitted. But I knew she was lying.

"You sure?"

"I was there," she agreed. "Boy next door, only he was two doors down. He snuck into my window and ate me all night long." I could tell by what her eyes were doing that she wasn't being totally honest with me. And I think I knew why. The randy little hypocrite had had a female pussy licker! I didn't want to push the issue and cause a scene, not when I was so close to fulfilling my objective. So I tore off her panties and pushed apart her thighs so I could bury my face in her bush.

Pat liked that a lot. She laid back on the table and let me ravish her neglected pussy with my tongue. She was soaked, I mean literally dripping juices in a pool under her ass. I ate her lustily, making her squirm on my tongue as one savage orgasm ripped through her after another.

Just as I was bringing her to perhaps her third major climax, I stood and buried my dick into her twat without warning. She squealed at the intrusion -- she was as tight as a sixteen year old -- but she was quickly pushing her hips up to greet me. Ordinarily I would have done her like this and then spun her around, doggie, but in deference to her horrible marital life I decided she deserved a little face-to-face time while she was getting fucked. So I sought out her mouth with my own, still sticky from her juices, as I relentlessly pounded into her.

She had to grab the sides of the table to steady herself. I pulled her into a slightly better angle and worked at the cervix-bruising power strokes she seemed to enjoy the most. Having already cum, I hammered into her, standing fully for better leverage, for at least half an hour. Most men go about eight minutes. She'd know the difference after this.

I watched as her climaxes lit her up like a pinball machine, and she screamed. Thank God we were under ground, or the neighbors would have called the cops. When I couldn't hang on any longer, I released a torrent of my super-fertile seed against the far wall of her pussy, and then covered her heavily in the aftermath. The longer I kept her horizontal, the better chance there was of insemination.

"That . . . was amazing," she said, wide-eyed. "I haven't been fucked like that . . . ever."

"Sorry, got carried away in the moment," I said softly, kissing her some more.

"Good. I love it. After Al's limp dick for the last few years, I'd almost forgotten what a proper fucking was like."

"Glad I could be of service," I quipped. "That was some really good pussy, you know?"

"Thanks," she said, gratefully. "I almost thought it didn't work right, what with him . . . going elsewhere."

"Seems to work fine for me," I laughed. "As a matter of fact, I could stand to double-dip, if you're interested."

"Again?" she asked, shocked. "You want to go again?"

"If you're willing. We still have ten minutes or so before the test is up. But lets move to one of the bunks," I suggested.

Our second coupling was far less frenetic than the first, but just as enjoyable. Pat was at that place in her life where she was just discovering her body, in many ways, and she had something to prove about her femininity. I pumped her silly for another half-hour, and then injected her with another load. We laid there for a long time afterwards.

"Damn," she breathed.

"I concur," I said.

"Serves the bastard right," she threw in, slyly. "You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to wipe up with my panties and stick them in his goddamn 'fitness' magazine, that's what I'm going to do. So the next time he comes out here to whack off, he'll know."

"Won't that cause some . . . problems?" I asked, feigning concern.

"No, because I'll keep the creepy little love-letter. He tries to give me any shit, well, it would all come out in court."

"That will serve him right."

"Damn straight. I was mad, before, but you set me right, David. Gave me some perspective. He can keep his little butt-boys, I'll get what I need on the side. If he doesn't like it, well, he can suffer."

"That's the spirit!"

We slowly got dressed, which felt like putting on blankets in the stifling heat, and finally opened the hatch. I watched as she placed her sticky panties ceremoniously between the pages of Al's magazine and stuffed it back under the mattress where I found it. Then we both emerged into the sunlight the sweat still clinging to us, and I made a show of looking for bright green stains. I found none. Go figure.

"Here's my card," I said, handing her one of the fake ones I'd printed. "You ever dump that . . . butt pirate, let me know." She took it gratefully. That was one of those little things to keep her from having "cheaters remorse" -- the feeling of being used some women have after a clandestine quickie -- and to assure her I wasn't just fucking her and heading for the horizon. Of course, that's exactly what I was doing. When and if she called, she'd find out all too soon that "David Meyers" wasn't a Baltimore city employee, and that the Civil Defense program didn't really inspect newly built shelters. By that time, however, she'd be safely pregnant -- something else which would cause some issues between her and Al -- and I would be safely in Tampa, ten years from now. On my way out she stopped me in the house and kissed me.

"Thank you," she said. "You made me feel more like a woman in an hour than Al has in years."

"Just doing my job, ma'am," I said with a grin. For once, I wasn't lying.