Betsy - Reawakened Ch. 13

© 2022, All rights reserved -- mimaster

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Betsy groaned as she crossed the kitchen floor. Every step she took, she felt a part of her body ache. She winced as she reached up for the cupboard next to the sink where she kept a lot of their every day type medications.

"How am I ever going to swing a golf club today," she sighed. Popping three aspirin along with her morning vitamins, she knew full well they weren't going to help her recover in time for their afternoon golf lesson with Joel. She began to wonder if she'd have to beg off and just watch Neil on the range.

The strong cup of coffee revived her faculties, but that wasn't the remedy for her aches and pains. She could only hope the aspirin would kick in sooner than she expected, and that taking three would help. She was kicking herself for not thinking to take any before she went to bed.

"I don't think I've ever been in this bad of shape after sex," she whined as she went to the front porch to get the Sunday paper she'd never brought into the house, let alone gotten to read. She tried to bend at the waist, but ended up squatting instead. "Jesus! Apparently I've become an old slut. I have got to get in better shape if I'm going to be doing that more often."

It was early Monday morning, and Diane and Keith had left around two in the afternoon the day before, after coming over to their house after dinner Saturday night. Once they were gone, she and Darren cleaned up the basement, and then showered together before lying down for a short nap. At five, she got up and got dressed. Darren did the same, driving to pick up Neil from his weekend stay over. Dinner was on the table at six as usual when they got home.

Thankfully, Neil was exhausted from his weekend, heading to bed at nine, which was very early for him during the summertime. That allowed Betsy and Darren to turn in early as well. They were sound asleep soon after Neil crashed.

Because they'd gone to bed so early, Darren woke up well before six in the morning. He was usually a late riser, being a night owl. Betsy was the one that always got up early.

She had just walked into the kitchen and started that fresh pot of coffee when she sensed his presence behind her. It surprised her when she turned around to find him naked, his cock throbbing from staring at her ass through the short, sexy robe she was wearing. She had no idea he'd been lurking in the shadows, waiting for her to wake up.

Seeing the lustful expression in his eyes, she asked if he had something on his mind.

"Pussy. Someone's been fucking yours."

"Someone's been fucking more than just my pussy, if you must know," she smirked.

"I can smell it," he snarled, inhaling deep.

"Hey! I showered! You were with me," she giggled, loving where their conversation was headed.

He inhaled again, shaking his head. "Nah. I can still smell it. It needs marked with my scent."

"Just my pussy? Or do you plan on re-marking all the territory that got claimed yesterday," she giggled.

"Pussy now. I'll mark the rest back tonight when I get home."

"I don't know. That's pretty risky," she said, licking her lips as she winked at him playfully. "My mouth and throat were particularly dirty. They probably could use a good scrubbing first, don't you think? I can still taste my slutty decisions from last night."

"Good idea. Get that sweet ass of yours back to the bedroom."

She shook her head, untying the sash on the front of her robe. Opening it, she let it fall off her shoulders, leaving her standing there in just the heels she'd worn the day before.

"Real hunters don't lure their prey. That take it down where they find it."

"I don't hunt," he chuckled.

"You used to. There are two guns on the wall downstairs that prove it."

It was true. While Darren no longer hunted, it wasn't like he wasn't proficient at it. When he was younger, growing up, his family was very poor. They hunted and fished just to put meat on the table to go with the food they grew in their big vegetable garden. When he became successful in his career as an adult, he swore off that life. He just couldn't understand the idea of hunting for sport when he was forced to do it in his youth just to survive. Now that he could afford it, he bought what he needed at the grocery. Still, he had a twelve-gauge shotgun and a twenty-two caliber rifle on a gun rack mounted on the wall behind the bar; reminders of his past and where he came from.

Yet he got her point, saying, "So, right here then."

"This is where you found the pussy you were sniffing out, isn't it?"

He growled, his nostrils flaring as he nodded.

"You hunted me here, you need to take me down here," she shrugged.

He stepped forward, a threat in his stride. She acquiesced and dropped to her knees, beckoning him to come closer with her finger. In seconds she'd engulfed his cock right there by the sink.

Forty minutes afterward, she'd been thoroughly ravaged by her husband, who lied to her. After fucking her mouth for a bit, he lifted her by her hair and twisted her quickly, bending her over the counter. He stuffed his cock into her cunt with a purpose, taking her just like he'd promised. But it didn't stop there when he came inside her. Instead, he forced her back to her knees, making her keep him hard.

He ended up taking her ass as well, putting her on her hands and knees. He squatted, his feet wide, stuffing his fat prick into her. She was thankful once again for his foreskin. Otherwise it would have been an angry, painful entry. As it was, she became worried about floor burns on her knees and elbows.

He left her there lying on the linoleum, cum dripping from both her lower holes, her body reeling from the sweet torture it had been put through the last day and a half.

He literally walked over her twenty minutes later, grabbing a mug from the rack on the countertop. He was shaved, showered and dressed in a sharp suit, heading for a business meeting downtown.

"Breakfast?" she said shakily from her position beneath him on the floor.

He was downing a quick cup of coffee, but stopped to say, "I'll grab something it town later. I can't be late. Zoning board meeting."

"What time is it?"

He moved again, stepping over her a second time like she was an obstacle. "A quarter to seven. I have to go to the office first to get my notes, and the land assessment for the plot I'm looking at. I'll see you for dinner. I love you, Bets."

"I love you too, you animal," she winked.

She got to her feet some ten minutes after he left, checking her skin for abrasions, happy she was no worse for wear than a few red marks that would soon disappear. Picking up her robe, she slipped it on, letting it hang open for the time being. It was then that she took her aspirin and vitamins with that first strong cup of coffee. Remembering she'd never gotten that Sunday paper off the porch, she kicked off her heels, shuffling through the house barefoot to the front door. She didn't care if anyone noticed she was basically flashing the neighborhood at that early hour. Her mind was on how she felt. It surprised her, what with the amount of pot she'd smoked. But that was on Saturday and early Sunday. She wondered if she should have smoked more before she'd gone to bed.

She was going to sit at the kitchen table, but decided perhaps some fresh air might do her good. Yet first she noticed the cum on the floor, marking the scene of the kill; the very spot she'd been taken by the skilled hunter.

Part of her wanted to drop back to her knees and lick it up. It was what she would have done years before, if given the chance. All she could bring herself to do this time was drop a dish towel on top of it and use her foot to sop it up. Bringing the towel to her hand with her dexterous toes, she tossed it on the counter, too lazy to put it in the laundry basket on top of the washer in the mudroom just off the kitchen to her left.

"Fuck, even that hurts," she griped as she slid open the patio door. Stepping into the morning breeze, she basked as the cool air washed over her bare skin. For a moment she forgot where she was, only remembering to cover up when she heard the sounds of soft jazz playing in the distance.

She peered past one of the bushes guarding the cement patio she barely used, noticing her neighbor in her backyard, lying on a large beach towel in the grass, doing her morning yoga, like she did promptly at seven each morning.

Knowing the time by her neighbors punctual routine, and that Neil would likely sleep in until she got him up, she became inspired. They would be heading out to the country club later that morning, having one stop to make before their ten o'clock lesson with Joel Sampson, the golf pro.

Betsy rushed through the house as quickly as her body would allow. Ten minutes later, she was dressed in a forest green bikini, and she was feeling the relaxing sensations of the huge joint she'd smoked as it began to take effect. "Yeah... I should have smoked one of these last night before I went to bed."

Carrying a beach towel of her own under her arm, she traversed the plush dewy grass of her yard to that of the Capers, her only neighbor to speak of. With no house to their left, or across the street as of yet, Tim and Elaine were the only couple that could be considered the next door variety.

The Capers were a wonderful couple in their early sixties. Tim was rather tall, very handsome and in incredible shape. His silver hair stood out against his dark, tanned skin, giving him a very distinguished look. He worked for the city management department, heading the economic development agency. He also belonged to the country club, he and Darren being frequent golfing buddies. Darren had also been bending his ear regarding the rumors of the interstate coming through the area.

Part of Tim's job was to do everything in his power to make that happen. He'd been working with Darren. In fact, he was actually on the zoning board, and with the information Darren had been providing, he would be at that meeting to support him. He'd read the Washington newspapers. He knew all too well the importance of changing the minds of some of those opposed. Changing the zoning early along the proposed southern corridor was key to drawing other businesses to come and invest in the area. Some of the board members argued the northern route being proposed was close enough, but by being twenty miles away, it could keep their town the quiet, sleepy village they liked.

For Tim, as far as the economic impact on the area, twenty miles might as well have been two hundred. Businesses would not locate that far away from the proposed interstate. He had a half-dozen independent studies to prove it. It came down to two theories. Change the zoning first, and businesses would start to come knowing they'd get prime real estate along the southern route. Or, wait to change the zoning until the actual route was announced, so that if it wasn't near town they wouldn't have to deal with angry business leaders that were stuck too far away from the interstate.

Tim was firmly with Darren's point of view. Change the zoning right away. The more enticing they could make it, the more likely the state would push the federal government to use the corridor near town as the route they'd choose.

He and Darren had spent countless hours together, either in an official capacity, or a personal one that more often than not morphed into the same subject. Besides golf, they'd wander over to each other's houses to pick each other's brains. They'd become close, beyond the mutual 'one hand washes the other' necessity that their respective jobs required.

Elaine was a recently retired teacher, having spent thirty years educating elementary students. She loved children, which made it all the more interesting that she and Tim didn't have any. Betsy always found that as odd.

Elaine was an incredible woman, inside and out. Brilliant, funny... obviously well-educated. She was also gorgeous. She could easily pass for Betsy's age, looking twenty years younger. She was medium height, with a luscious, curvy body that spoke of her sexuality. Her long blonde hair was natural, and she had a tan that rivaled that of her husband. She spent more time outside than in, tending her many gardens, vegetable, floral and otherwise.

She'd retired as soon as she was allowed, and had let her personality flourish in the couple of years since. No longer constrained by the binds that the job as an educator put on her, she'd embraced the generational changes in the country. As much as Betsy looked at the sexual revolution for inspiration, Elaine took a similar approach. She was the closest thing to a hippie as Betsy had ever come across.

Elaine saw her approaching, a happy smile flashing across her face. "So, you finally decided to take me up on my offer, I see."

"Hard for me not to be interested, now that you've taken to wearing bikinis."

"In that case, I'm surprised that your husband isn't joining us. I started wearing them for him," she joked.

"Are you being serious?" Betsy laughed.

"Partly. It would be disingenuous for me to say he wasn't a part of the decision. I rather enjoy him looking my way when he's working in the yard. Gives an old woman like me a bit of a jump, to be honest."

"Ha! Interesting word choice. He'd probably jump you given half the chance. And you're anything but old. You look better than I do. Hell, you're in better shape than I am."

"Aw. That's sweet of you to say, even though it's not true."

"It's all true. I know he looks at you. He's said as much. And he wouldn't be if you looked your age. My goodness Elaine, I pray I look like you do when I get older."

"Well, the key to that is managing stress, and taking care of your body. Hence the yoga. Are you serious about doing this? I don't like quitters. If you start, I'll expect you to stick with it."

"I would like to try," Betsy said as she spread out her towel. Struggling just to get to the ground, she groaned. "I can't say I'll be any good at it, but I need to do something. I'm so sore today it's not funny."

"What's got you so sore, honey?"

"I'm old. I've been talking golf lessons."

"I know. Neil was telling me. But that would have been Friday. Surely you're not still sore from that today."

"Neil told you?"

"He's a very bright child, Betsy. He's also so personable and quick-witted. I would have loved to have had him as a student, although I'm pretty sure I would have had to note on his report card that he talks too much. He's very social. And mature for his age."

"Wow. You've just said what every teacher has ever said about him. He does love to talk. I don't know how to get him to stop doing it in the classroom."

"Don't. We're paid to critique our students. If we don't, the administrators think we aren't doing our job. If his grades are good, and that's the only negative they've bothered to mention, it's nothing to worry about. Being a social butterfly is not a crime, and no child is perfect. But he's pretty close from my perspective. You and Darren are doing a marvelous job with him. The fact that he's comfortable stopping and talking to me as freely as he does is testament to that."

"I cannot tell you how much it means to me that you said that, Elaine. We never hear that at parent-teacher conferences."

"Because they don't want us to become too close to the kids anymore. It's one of the reasons I retired. The world is changing. We need the education system to change along with it. I got frustrated by the restrictions. So, I've started tutoring instead. It gives me more freedom, and it allows me to teach the way I want with each student to reach them better. If Neil ever needs any help, let me know. I'd work with him for free."

"Damn, where were you when Gene was in school?"

"Teaching elementary school. He was in junior high when you moved here, wasn't he?"

"Oh, yeah," she giggled.

"Is he okay? He's in college now."

"He's fine. He just has to work harder academically than Neil does. It's like they're complete opposites. Neil has to work harder at athletics. That's why we're doing the golf lessons. Gene's a natural. But Joel at the club really thinks Neil will end up being better."

"That's not surprising. Having an older brother he looks up to and wants to emulate, and a better work ethic? That's bound to pay off. Which is why you and Darren deserve kudos. You're investing in him. I admire that. But I still can't understand why you're sore today if the last time you swung a club was last Friday. You're certainly not in that bad of shape."

"Okay, it's not really from golf... I'm just not sure I'm willing to talk about the real reason," she chuckled.

"Say no more."

"That's it? No follow up?" she grinned.

"None needed. If there's one thing I've learned living next to you this short time, it's that you obviously have a very good relationship with your husband. And I also know he has a very unusual job. He just got home Friday after being gone for a week. I can only imagine how you must have spent your weekend, reconnecting with him."

"Actually, you probably can't, but you're certainly on the right track," she giggled. "At least it's good to know I don't have to be so discreet about the subject around you. Right?"

"Heavens no, Betsy. One of the benefits you're going to find with yoga, again, if you stick with it, is that it makes good sex great, and great sex phenomenal. I don't know if it helps bad sex. I don't think I've ever had the displeasure of experiencing bad sex, to be honest. Then again, I'm pretty choosy about whom I have sex with."

"I would hope so. You're married to him."

"Aw, it's cute of you to think like that," she giggled.

Betsy wasn't sure what to make of that. She felt like she understood, but she didn't want to press. She was happy just to be able to have a chat with Elaine that even lightly broached the subject. The world was indeed changing, the dawn of the sexual revolution having exploded on the horizon just a half decade or so before, but that didn't mean everyone embraced it. Betsy always felt she was on the fringe, being a little older than those leading the charge. Yet here was a woman some twenty years older, and she seemed very comfortable in her own skin. Most of it showing in her rather skimpy bikini.

"Are you ready to get started?" Elaine asked.

"Yes, please," Betsy replied excitedly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Do you want to go in with me, or wait in the car?" Betsy asked Neil.

"I'll just wait, mom," he replied.

"I won't be long. I'll leave the radio on for you," she smiled.

He'd been listening to the beginning of Long Cool Woman by The Hollies on the local AM station. She almost wanted to stay and listen to it with him. It was one of her new favorites, even if the lyrics were rather odd, what with both the FBI and bootleggers mentioned. From her perspective, she could at least relate to a long, cool woman in a black dress who had it all, even if she was only 5'7" instead of the 5'9" the song described. Neil loved it for the catchy guitar riff that opened the song.

It was one of the many things she appreciated about being with her boys. They loved that she liked the same music they were listening to, and she loved more that they didn't seem embarrassed by her being so enthusiastic about it. It was something they shared, mostly silently. But she felt the connection.

Gene had struggled a bit with it when he was younger, but he came to realize she was sincere in her love of rock and roll. It wasn't some device she tried to use just to bond with him. She was genuinely into most of it.

He'd discovered her dancing in the kitchen one Thursday morning when she'd thought he'd left for work. He'd come home for the summer after his freshman year at college, and she'd assumed he'd already gotten up left for the golf course where he worked. He was usually up and out the door early, needing to be there at dawn. He'd mowed fairways and greens during previous summers, loving the fringe benefit of all the free golf he could play when he wasn't working. It was a different course than the quaint country club his family belonged to, and it gave him another place to play to his hone game.