tagLoving WivesO'Scouries Valentines Day Wife

O'Scouries Valentines Day Wife

byscouries©

Hi, thanks for clicking open my story. It's an official entry in LITEROTICA'S Valentines Day Contest. So please, when you get to the end of the story, take a couple of extra seconds and cast your vote.

WARNING: This is a Loving Wives Category story that features graphic sex as well as an unhappy marriage breakup. All sexual acts are committed by consenting adults 18 yo or older. It is approximately 9500 words long which comes to about 2 ¾ LITEROTICA pages. If this is not what you were expecting please click away now. To the rest of you -- please enjoy!


*

February 14th 2008, Valentines Day

I watched her through hooded eyes as she slipped into the bedroom, and then tried to control the grin I felt growing on my lips when I saw what she was wearing.

Fuck, she's still capable of giving me a hard-on I thought as I watched her full, round breasts moving under the diaphanous, ivory colored, silk babydoll she was wearing. To her husband of fourteen years her already hard, dark pink, half dollar sized nipples indicated her excitement, the wetness I knew I'd find when I explored through the trimmed triangle of blond pubic hair that highlighted her sex.

"Wake up sleepy head," she whispered in my ear even as one of her hands lightly touched my nipple, actually tweaked it before she moved it lower.

Christ after all these years together she can read every nerve in my body I thought as I felt her tongue probe wetly into my ear. I was already hardening, lengthening when she closed her soft palm around my penis.

I groaned, then arched my body in a languorous stretch before I opened my eyes slowly.

"I know you're awake," she accused in her sexiest voice.

"Do you?" I asked my ex-wife. Mind you she didn't know yet that her status had changed from loving wife to ex. Today was the 14th of February 2008, St. Valentines Day, the day for lovers, the day I was going to tell her her new status. But before I did I was going to sample the charms of the unfaithful bitch for one last time.

"Daddy's cock is so big today," she whispered huskily, "does daddy want to put his penis in mommy?"

"Suck it," I ordered her harshly, then put my hand on the back of her head and slowly forced it down toward my straining prick.

"Is this my Valentines candy?" she asked leering, then she stuck out her tongue and flicked a drop of cream from its tip.

"Jesus," I moaned as my hips involuntarily tightened, lifting my ass from the sheets.

"Daddy's big lollipop," she said between licks of her moist tongue that trailed wetly from the thick base of my shaft right up and over the ridge that separated my prick's Valentine heart shaped cockhead from the piston that supported it.

"Suck it bitch," I ordered as each of my hands grabbed a handful of her long, silky blond hair.

The slut still hadn't realized that something was wrong, that within an hour her world would be turned upside down. I let my eyes rove over her still stunning thirty-three year old body as her head bobbed in my lap, making me wonder for just a second if I'd made a mistake. Because, even after all the crap I'd silently endured for the last eight months, I knew I'd always want her. Fuck that, I thought as I tightened my grip on her hair and violently pulled her head off my cock.

"What baby? You don't want to cum in mommy's mouth today?"

I simply threw her to her back and rolled on top of her, then drove deeply between the engorged lips of her cunt in one brutal push.

She cried out in protest at the attack but was ready when I made a second and even deeper thrust. She had her ankles locked behind my back by the time I'd pumped my prick into her for the fifth time, then was moaning, urging me on as I started to rhythmically pound inside her.

"Slut...bitch...cock sucker," I yelled as my orgasm approached, language which just seemed to excite her more.

"Hurry baby...HURRRRY...I'M READY," she suddenly screamed as her back stiffened and arched off the bed.

And then it didn't matter what I thought of her. The sudden tightening, then the first release, almost painful but also euphoric, then feeling my sperm as it hurtled down my shaft and then splashed violently deep into her vagina. And then again...again...fuck again... Her cunt was tight around him, pulsing as I bucked my creamy spunk into her.

I finally rolled off her, lay panting on my back, gasping, my anger almost drained from me.

Still hungry the bitch straddled me, her now bright pink, exposed sex leaking cum down onto my stomach. She threw her head back and yelled, sending her long blond hair swinging in a wild, mesmerizing dance. "Giddee up big boy, mama's in the saddle now, show me what you got," she urged as she slapped my butt like a jockey might whip his steed towards the finish line.

Looking up into her face for a second I saw the face that had seduced me so easily so many years before. Two babies and fourteen years later she could still pass for the coed I'd fallen in love with.

I saw her for the first time on September 14th, 1993, fourteen and a half years ago. We'd both been eighteen years old.

She was one of those rich girls, the daughter of a Wall Street tycoon-- I was the son of the Irish working class, I'd needed a scholarship.

I was a virgin -- she, it turned out, wasn't.

Both freshmen, we'd been on campus just seven days....

September 14th, 1993, Middlebury College, Vermont

It was just one of those Freshman Week social gatherings, a party that had brought together half of our class to meet and mix. A class that was made up of the sons and daughters of the ruling class with a few scholarship students like me thrown in. They didn't take us because of our brains -- hell the school had a good enough reputation that if it wanted to it could fill itself up with just smart, rich kids. No, the working class kids like me (and the token Latinos and Blacks) were wanted to expose these private school kids to the kinds of people they'd rule for the rest of their lives.

I'd been asking myself all week why the hell I'd enrolled at this snotty college filled with little snob bitches and preppy assholes. That is until I saw her!

It was her blond hair that had first drawn my attention that night, swinging like a golden halo around her head as she turned from one rapt Middlebury boy to the next. Although surrounded by these fawning, potential beaus, I could see at a glance that even in this company she was someone special. It wasn't just her beauty (and she was beautiful), nor the way she was dressed, nor the regal way she carried herself. She had something else, a sexual charisma that effortlessly drew the eyes of every boy in the room. And it was clear to me as I watched her that she was aware of her power and would readily exploit it. She pissed me off even as she excited me.

I found myself grinning at the way she played the crowd around her even as my virgin penis hardened in my pants. And then she looked up and caught me. Just for a second I caught the question in her eyes, 'what's he laughing at' before she dismissed me and flicked her eyes back to the group around her.

An hour later as I stood waiting for a beer at the bar I felt an elbowing nudge in my back and turning my head found my blond friend.

"Oh sorry...I didn't see you," she said imperiously as she slipped in front of me. Then she looked me up and down, a slow appraising glance that was exceedingly rude coming from a classmate and someone my own age.

Fuck her I thought. "Yeah, I did read that you had trouble seeing...I think they said you had suffered some rare childhood ocular disease," I said as I lightly nudged her aside and put my arm on the bar.

"What? You read about me? Where?"

"Yes ma'am," I said as I turned towards the bartender and signaled to him with my finger.

"Ma'am? I'm a student...here...at Middlebury you imbec..."

"Nice try miss...I saw you giving your autograph to those guys," I interrupted without looking at her.

"I'm a freshman...in Hopwell," she insisted, referring to a residence on campus.

"C'mon, I know you're Miss August...I saw the picture spread." I said as I turned and let my eyes zero in on her chest.

"WHAAAAAAT!"

"But you don't look that bad in clothes either ma'am... are you here promoting some product? Beer? Are you giving out condoms?" I asked as I slowly ran my eyes up and down her curves.

"I'm a student you dolt...from New York City...Manhattan...you have heard of it haven't you? My name is Victoria Penelope Smyth-Worthington. I'm in Fine Arts!"

"Is that your stage name? Could you sign this napkin for me," I asked feigning a boyish, leering enthusiasm.

"Do you even go to this school? What's your name?" she asked in a tone that the most officious Dean of Students would have trouble matching.

"O'Scouries ma'am, Patrick O'Scouries."

"You're Irish?"

"From Brooklyn miss...we're sorta neighbors. You can call me Paddy ma'am," I offered with a smile.

She sneered at my suggestion that we could possibly be neighbors, she looked as though she doubted we were from the same planet. "You're a student here?"

"Can I call you sometime?" I asked, ignoring her question.

Stopping, she turned her head and asked, "Call me what?" She'd had a funny little smile on her lips when she'd spoken but it was her eyes that captured me, the challenge in them clear -- Do you really think you're man enough for me?

"Call you what? Yeah that is a tough one...I mean given your weird name," I said with a grin as I turned and moved away from her and back into the mob surrounding the bar.

"My weird name?" I heard her screech at my back.

*****

"Hi... is this Miss Vicki?" I asked, even though I'd recognized her voice. Her number had been easy to find in the student directory.

"No it is definitely not MISS VICKY...Who is this? What time is it?"

"Paddy...Patrick O'Scouries," I answered.

"Who?" I just laughed down the line in answer. "The boy from the party?" she finally asked.

"You know in that Penthouse article they said you were pretty smart."

"Fuck you!" But she hadn't hung up! And I'd heard the curiosity in her voice.

"Do you know why I'm calling?" I asked.

"Because you have a sleep disorder? What time is it anyway?"

"Three fifty-seven a.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time," I replied after checking my watch.

"You're nuts. Where are you?"

"Across the street."

"From where," she asked.

"From the Hopwell Residence for Unwed Women," I answered.

"You are?" then after a couple of seconds silence she said, "Where? I don't see you?"

"The phone box...where are you?"

"Look to your right...second floor," she instructed. I looked up and quickly spotted her standing in the middle of the large plate glass window. She was wearing a short little white nightie that stopped at mid thigh.

"Hi," I said into the phone as I waved up at her.

"So what do you want?" she said impatiently.

"Do you want to go get a pizza or something?"

"Are you crazy? It's the middle of the night. I was sleeping." But I'd caught the hint of amusement in her voice.

"I like your pajamas," I answered.

"Pajamas? This is a House of Versace Italian lace, embroidered chemise that I bought in Paris you twit. But I don't suppose you know where Paris is, do you Paddy?"

Twit? "Is that the town down in Texas little missy?" I snapped back.

"Paris, France you ass!"

"Throw it down."

"Throw what down?" Victoria asked and then, "Why?"

"I've never touched a garment from the House of Versaaaacee," I answered with a grin.

"So I should throw a three hundred dollar Couturier creation out my window because some hick from Brooklyn has never seen one."

"I'd also get to see you naked...which wouldn't be all bad. Are you really a blond?"

She looked down at me for seconds without replying, then suddenly slipped the straps off her shoulders and let her nightie fall to the floor. Then she flicked on a lamp and then walked right up to the window and pushed her body against the glass. "Well?" she finally demanded.

She was definitely a blond! "I'm a virgin," I said softly down the line as the realization hit me that I'd just fallen in love with this girl

She stared right down at me, pushing her eyes into mine across the twenty yards that separated us. "Show me your penis"

"My penis?"

"You do have one don't you?" she demanded.

And so I lowered my zipper and fished around and finally pulled out my cock, which proved relatively difficult given its state of full erection.

"Do you always get hard-ons when you're on the phone?" she asked, a new huskiness in her voice.

"Only with dumb blonds," I answered as I grabbed my penis in my left hand and started to wave it.

"Are you really a virgin?" I nodded my head, then my cock. "I'll meet you at the front door in thirty seconds," she ordered, then the phone went dead.

I was waiting at the locked, glass front door of the Residence, my cock still hanging out, when she appeared on the opposite side of the lobby. Still naked! She stood watching me through the glass for seconds, her eyes flicking back and forth between my face and penis, almost as though she was trying to decide between yes and no.

"People get arrested for that," she said pointing at my cock after she'd finally opted for opening the door.

"I better put it somewhere where no one can see it then," I answered.

"Yes, I think you'd better," she agreed as her left hand closed around my shaft.

And then I, Patrick O'Scouries, an eighteen year old virgin, pulled Victoria Penelope into my arms while her hand directed my cock into the most perfect spot it had ever been. Impaled, I walked her over to the glass door where, standing up, I proceeded to pump my penis into her until, for the first time in my life, I splashed my sperm deep into a woman's pussy.

Finished, but still hard and deep inside her, her legs still wrapped around my waist, I stood smiling crazily at her.

"What are you smiling at?" she demanded, but in a tone that was more happy than angry.

"Thank you," I finally whispered.

"What? Oh...so it was..."

"Perfect," I finished for her.

"You weren't that bad yourself...for a novice anyway. In fact...pretty good," she conceded.

"Do you think we could do it again?" I asked.

"I think you already are," she said, then giggled as she looked down between our bodies to where my penis was half buried in her vagina. We ended up on the couch in the lobby, both of us butt naked, me pounding wildly into her while she screamed out her pleasure. It was a miracle (or the fact that Middlebury was a rich school and had spent a fortune on soundproofing) that no one interrupted us or called the cops. I lasted much longer the second time! And I was one hundred percent sure, as I watched her panting at my side after we'd finished, that Miss Victoria Penelope Smyth-Worthington had no complaints about the Irish boy from Brooklyn.

"C'mon," she finally urged, grabbing me by the penis as she stood, "we'll go to my room." From which we didn't leave for the next forty-eight hours.

So I lost my virginity to a girl I knew nothing about, and had just met, in the lobby of a college residence in my first week at university, my first week away from home. And somehow got incredibly lucky. Or so I believed at the time.

We fell in love. Impossibly in love. Shit, I'll admit it - it was the sex at first, nothing but the sex. We were like two animals that first couple of weeks. We made love in the library, in the stacks between the high rows of leathered volumes...on the college's common at midnight...fucked under the shower in the women's locker room in the Athletics Center...on a professor's desk after a Philosophy lecture...and of course in our rooms.

We were a perfect match -- it was only years later that I realized we were extraordinarily super sexed, that what we were doing wasn't just normal sexual behavior. There was no shyness, no embarrassment as we coupled. Relatively naïve by today's standards (pre Internet) we innocently tried every sexual position that occurred to us. Anal, oral, bondage -- whatever popped into our heads was acted on. Enjoyed by two lusty teens.

And yet it didn't turn out to be one of those two week college flings. Yes, in many ways she was the rich bitch who I'd normally hate, but she was also smart. Somebody who forced you to think before you opened your mouth on a topic. Who'd whimper as you rode her but who'd cut you apart if your arguments lacked thought.

She was different than the girls I'd known in high school. Confident...funny...forever surprising me with her originality, her intellect. I fell for her hard. I'm not sure what she saw in me but she fell just as hard for me. And so as that fall passed we became both lovers and friends.

"Well, I guess I better take you home to meet the family," she told me one night in late October.

"They probably won't like me."

"That's for sure Mr. O'Scouries," she agreed with a grin on her face, "but if you think you're going to marry me without meeting them you're crazy. We'll go next weekend, everyone's going to be at the big house on the island." She'd already described the family 'house on the island' to me, it apparently was a fifty room mansion far out in the Hampton's that the Worthington clan used as a summer residence and for special occasions.

"Marry you? Who's the crazy one?" I kidded, pretending the idea had never crossed my mind.

"It'll be the luckiest day of your life," she crowed.

"Well I don't know about me but at least you'd get a normal name out of the deal...just think, Vikkiiii O'Scouries," I said laughing as I tousled her hair.

"Hah! You'll have to take my name you nut," she promised laughing as she pushed my hand away.

And so, a week later, after much cajoling by my love, I was led to the slaughter. No, it really wasn't that bad. Yes, they were a bunch of right wing Republicans who believed that all union members were communists. And that somehow they had earned every one of the millions of dollars they controlled even though they'd inherited most of it. That the poor were lazy...that the immigrant tide had to be stopped (even though they employed teams of illegal aliens as cooks and gardeners and chauffeurs)...that capital punishment was absolutely necessary...that God was white and had voted for Ronald Reagan...

But, even though everything they represented and believed in was diametrically opposite of just about everything I believed in, by and large they were a pretty nice group of people. Which is always the problem with labels -- no matter their class, or religion, or color, or ethnic origin, most people are pretty nice and have much the same concerns and hopes as the rest of us.

Mind you there are real bastards in every crowd! And sixty-two year old Reginald Andrew Smyth-Worthington, who was clearly the biggest prick I'd ever met -- good old Reggie, who happened to be only five foot, four inches tall, also happened to be Victoria's father. He hated me...and the feelings were mutual.

...We visited my parents for Thanksgiving. Victoria didn't particularly like Brooklyn but surprisingly she got along well with my dad and mom.

...We each went home alone for the Christmas holidays but I was invited to spend the week after Christmas and right up to New Years at the Worthington's Manhattan town house. And I got down on my knees and asked Vikki to marry me just seconds after 1994 dawned. Sweet girl that she was she hiked up her skirt and insisted I perform cunnilingus on her before she'd give me her answer. Then she screamed out her acceptance as her orgasm washed through her.

Reggie was a tougher sell! My wife-to-be reported that I'd been called everything from a low life piece of Black Irish scum to a gold digger out to steal the families millions. Then he got really ugly!

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