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The look of ecstasy on Alexa's face as she told this story was palpable.
"Then, when the meal was over, I started to clear the plates when Tyson grabbed my hand. He said, 'Sweetheart, it's been a long time since I've been in the presence of a woman like you.' And I started to blush, and then he put those big hands around me and I just, well, I melted!"
I leaned back in my chair, entirely confused about the erotic turn in Alexa's story. Samantha, however, stretched forward, totally engrossed. I don't know why my wife was so curious about her friend's sexual romp with this dangerous man.
"He stripped me naked right there, at the dinner table, and bent me over the seat where I had just been sitting. I felt so naughty, feeling my ass and hips pawed at by this stranger, but it also felt so good to finally be touched like that. Since we had the kids, my life with Carl had been so focused on parenting and the drudgery of day to day life. Now, I could finally just be the woman I always was, and get fucked!"
I stared over at the big man flipping meat on the grill and imagined him inserting his fingers into Alexa's bare pussy from behind, like she had described.
"He was working my pussy so good, I honestly feel like I just disappeared inside my mind. I was leaking all over those clean kitchen tiles, he was so good with his hands!"
I looked over and saw those sliding glass doors. Inside was the dining table. That was exactly where Alexa had been bent over the chair and fingered by the man over there.
"Then, he pulled it out. I wasn't facing it at first, but he plopped it down on the small of my back and I felt its weight! It was enormous, just a masterpiece of cock and--"
"What was that?" came a deep voice. We all looked up to see Tyson, standing before, speedo strutting out immensely, as he held the tray of barbecued meats.
"Dinner time," he said, setting the tray down, "What were y'all talking about?"
"Nothing," Alexa said, "Just some good memories."
"Alexa says you all have been friends for a long time," Tyson said.
"Yes," Samantha answered, "She and I went to college together. And the boys were in business school."
"The boys..." Tyson said, looking confused. He pointed at me and then looked around to find out who else Samantha was referring to.
"I mean, Alexa's husband Carl. Or, well, ex-husband..." My wife let out a little giggle, which I couldn't for the life of me figure out.
"Oh," Tyson said, letting out a big hearty laugh, "That bitch."
Alexa leaned her head onto Tyson's big chest as he laughed thinking about Carl.
"You know, I almost admire the guy," Tyson said. He was scooping big piles of bacon, hamburgers, and sausages onto each of our plates, "He made a little fortune for himself over the years. Of course, he didn't know how to hold onto it!"
He laughed, and Alexa and Samantha joined him in denigrating Carl.
I felt badly for the man. He was rotting away in a prison cell somewhere while his beautiful wife was draped over this strange large man, eating his food, sleeping in his house. It didn't seem to bother my wife Samantha, who noticed how uneasy I was.
"Relax," she said quietly to me, "Carl did some bad things. He deserved it."
Still, I wondered why Carl's crimes were worth throwing him to the wolves while Tyson, who we knew had been in prison for 25 years, was able to live in luxury like a king right now.
"Tyson's paid his dues, right?" Samantha said, turning for confirmation to Alexa.
"I did," Tyson answered. I hadn't realized he could hear me complaining, and I gulped a little out of fear. "I did do some bad stuff."
Alexa ran her fingers over his chest delicately.
"I got my baggage to carry," he said, turning his eyes downwards solemnly. Both Samantha and Alexa reached their hands out to touch him out of sympathy.
"Let's eat then," Samantha suggested, lightening the mood, "This sausage looks completely appetizing!"
As we ate, I became aware of just how massive Tyson was. The food moving down his gullet looked like a tiger feeding, and with Alexa's delicate white hand massaging his chest, he really did seem like a wild animal at chow time.
"Having Tyson here this last week has been amazing," Alexa said, "Not only has the sex been good--" here, we all looked at Tyson for a reaction, but he kept eating unfazed, "But the household has never been better managed."
"Never been better managed? How so?"
"Well, the staff has been tip top. Our cleaning service used to do an OK job, but Carl was never very good at making sure they actually scrubbed every inch and he was too generous with the tips. Tyson here saw one of the butlers leave a room that still had dust on a shelf and he tossed him off the balcony!"
I gasped, imagining the man throwing someone to their demise off the second story balcony.
"He landed in the pool, of course," Alexa said, chortling, "But he learned his lesson."
"There's no pool in the clink," Tyson said, "When a fella gets tossed, he lands in the concrete, you know?"
Samantha saw this as a joke and laughed. I knew he was serious.
"Plus," Alexa continued, "Tyson has been just amazing with the boys. They were so spoiled when Carl was around: getting everything they wanted and gorging themselves on fatty foods and sweets. They had just gotten so heavy these last few years. Tyson immediately had them running laps around the house, skipping meals, and overall they learned pretty quickly that life isn't all pretty roses."
"They're not bad kids," Tyson said, biting off a piece of hamburger, "They just have never encountered a man like me." There he grinned.
"And like I said, it's turned the house into such an amazing place. With the kids staying out, I can finally express myself the way I like."
"Express yourself how?" Samantha said. She was so curious about what Alexa could mean.
"I had a certain modesty as a mother and wife," Alexa said, "That's now just completely gone."
I always remembered Alexa as a bit of a slutty dresser, even when Carl was around, so this self-assessment struck me as wrong.
"For example," she said, my wife eagerly listening, "I might come down to breakfast wearing nothing but an apron. I'll cook something nice and hearty for my man: eggs, pancakes, bacon... and then I'll know he's ready when he's given me a nice firm slap on my bare bottom."
This kind of scene sounded like something out of a porno, not like what a rich housewife with two kids would do.
"Then, while he's eating, I'll make myself nice and comfy under the table and make sure he starts off his day nicely by blowing a hot load down my mouth."
The vulgarity shocked Samantha and I, but Tyson was unfazed. Still just shoveling food into his face.
"Honestly, a lot of the improvements around the house Tyson has made have had to do with me," Alexa said, "The first day after we fucked, when I didn't have dinner ready for him, he took me by my hair, slammed me down, pulled off my panties and started spanking me. I had never experienced that before and the mix of humiliation and arousal... let's just say I haven't forgot to do any of my duties since then."
"Just 'cause I was away for 25 years doesn't mean I forgot how to treat a bitch," Tyson said, "They need to be kept in line, right?"
He looked over at me and Samantha, but she just laughed.
"As if! My relationship with Drew is so much more sacred than that. He would never debase me that way by stripping me naked and spanking me!"
Tyson just laughed.
"If that's how you two make it work, sure," he said, "I just know that bitches have a hunger in them for some order, and any kind of real man that gives them that is going to own that pussy, you hear me?"
Now, Samantha was frowning, upset at the misogyny that her friend's new man was spouting.
"Why don't you serve the dessert?" Samantha asked Alexa, "I think I'm about ready to get out of here."
"Sure thing," Alexa said, and as she got up, Tyson gave her a nice smack on her plump bottom.
"Listen here," I said to Tyson, feeling emboldened by my wife's disgust now that Alexa was away, "How are you doing this? How have you so completely brainwashed poor Alexa in such a quick time? When we were here last week, she and Carl were a happy couple. Something just isn't right."
Tyson barely listened to me, waving his hand over his face.
"You don't know a thing," he said, "This girl is happy for the first time in her life. She's getting good dick. She's feeling sexy out in the world. She's done serving her shitty quack husband who never cared a second for her. And you think the only way I could make Alexa happy is by tricking her?"
Tyson shook his head severely.
"You don't know shit."
I wasn't sure what to say and neither was my wife. Alexa returned with some brownies and a handle of liquor which only she and Tyson partook in.
Samantha looked longingly at the brownie, but she turned it away.
"I'm watching my figure," she said, then shot a look at Alexa who was eating her second.
"Oh, Tyson loves when I eat. He says it keeps me happy and fills out my body." She scooted over to his lap, where she folded her arms around his neck and dug her ass cheeks against the fabric of his speedo. She gave him a big kiss on the cheek, and he turned his head so she gave him a kiss on the lips, and then he grabbed her head and kissed her deeply, making out with her sensually right then and there.
My wife nervously shifted in her seat as her friend french kissed this stranger for minutes uninterrupted.
"Hey!" came a small voice, "Are those brownies?"
It was my oldest son, appearing out of nowhere. He suddenly lurched forward clumsily across the table, the way kids do, to grab one of the brownies. But in doing so, he tripped over Tyson and Alexa who were making out.
"The fuck?" Tyson said, looking up and seeing my kid trying to grab a treat.
"Get the fuck out," he shouted, and in one swift motion, he sent my boy flying. I swear, he vaulted him fifteen feet in the air, soaring over the entire pool deck before landing with a splash in the deep end.
"Honey!" my wife shouted, starting to get up to help.
"He's fine," Tyson said, without looking, "Let him be."
Samantha surprised us all by obeying Tyson's orders. Instead of checking on her son, my wife sat patiently at the table across from Tyson the ex-con, not even glancing over as the boy sheepishly crawled out of the pool and away.
"Now," Tyson said, a thread of heavy saliva dangling between his lips and Alexa's, breaking and falling onto Alexa's breasts, "You should really have one of these brownies."
"Yes sir," my wife said, and did.
--
The car ride back was completely silent. Both boys sulked up to their rooms, and I followed Samantha up to our bedroom for what was sure to be a heated chat.
"Well?" I asked, when the doors were closed.
"Well what?"
"Are we going to talk about what happened?"
Samantha sat down on our bed, taking off her shoes and earrings distractedly, "About what that happened?"
"About Tyson throwing our son into the pool!"
Samantha paused, as if she had to remember that that even happened.
"Oh yeah," she said, "I suppose that was a little uncalled for. But he was getting in Tyson's way, and that ultimately was rude. I think, while neither you nor I would have done something like that, it probably was what he deserved, no?"
I couldn't believe my wife's words. Was she really okay with what Tyson had done?
"I mean, Tyson seems to be a misogynistic pig, a gross and hypersexual monster who has Alexa drunk on cock and supporting his lavish ex-con lifestyle. It's sad to see. But a lot of my friends make bad decisions. Tyson seems about as bad as anyone to me."
"You mean, you think this is just a phase for Alexa?"
Samantha nodded her head side to side in contemplation.
"Maybe a phase, maybe not. He's gross, for sure, and I don't condone his words or foul language. But I don't see how he did anything wrong tonight. It was his house. Our son rudely stepped on him, while he was making out with his woman no less. He had the right to do anything he wanted."
I couldn't believe it. I said that that was the most unsafe and scary experience I had ever seen.
"Oh relax!" Samantha said, "Just because you don't like Tyson doesn't make him unsafe. He seemed like, at the very least, a loving partner to Alexa and a good father to the boys, even if he is rude."
A good father? Their real father, Carl, hadn't even been gone a week.
"I don't quite like Tyson either," she continued, "But maybe he'll grow on us as we see him more."
"You can't be serious. You'd go back there, to their house again? For BBQ?"
"Yes, of course," she said with nonchalance, "Alexa invited us again. Every Sunday. Of course we're going."
I was shocked. It seemed like the world had gone mad, both my wife and her friend were accepting this stranger!
"Hey, calm down," she said, and stood up to face me. My wife, now bare foot and without her jewelry, shed the rest of her clothes to the floor. She stood facing me, long black hair tied up in a knot, as her magnificent large breasts hung towards me, only in a hefty wire set of black lingerie. Her stomach was perfectly smooth and her hips shook as she walked towards me.
"I am so hot right now," she said, coming forward to kiss me. I held her in my arms, feeling her bare juicy bottom in my palms as those amazing breasts pressed against my chest.
"How about we try something different," she suggested, laying her stomach down on our bed and wiggling her ass at me, "I want you to touch me as deeply as you can. Really work me."
Excited, I got now on my knees and began to knead her ass with my hands. I worked my knuckles down to her pussy lips, which were wet and dripping already down her legs. I started massaging her insides, and she responded by moving her hips against me, positioning my hand exactly where she wanted it to go.
"That's so good," she said, and I leaned close, her asshole and pussy inches from my face now. I sniffed, instinctively, smelling how wet and juicy my wife was getting. And then, without hesitation, I plunged in.
Samantha wasn't expecting my tongue, so she let out a girlish squeal. I ate her asshole, her pussy, and back, lapping up her juices as she squired into me. My cock was so hard, but something about worshiping at the pussy of my wife just felt right.
I guess in my subconscious, I understood that this was almost the story that Alexa had told, of Tyson wearing her like a puppet bent over at their kitchen table, but I felt like I was going deeper, burying my nose in her as I ate every drop of her.
"Fuck, I'm cumming!" she shouted, and she exploded a jet stream of fluids directly down my mouth. I felt like a fire hydrant that had just been thoroughly claimed by my wife's splash.
"Mmmm," she said, Curling up and looking at me. She giggled: I must have looked curious, sopping wet from her pussy and ass as I kneeled in front of our bed.
"How about I take care of you?" she suggested. I went to turn off the lights, but she suggested to leave it.
"I want to try with the lights on," she said. My wife positioned me up on the bed and then kneeled exactly where I had been, in a puddle of her own juices. As I wriggled off my pants, she scooped up some of the slimy excess from her thighs and grabbed my dick in her hand.
"You're so hard," she said, giggling, as she watching my dick throb in her hand. Usually, the lights were off, so she didn't get such a great view. Now, as she stroked me, she seemed fascinated by every twitch of my shaft and every wrinkle of my balls.
"You're my big man," she said, and got up off the floor to straddle me.
As I slid into my wife, I felt like I was in heaven. She did all the work, bucking her hips and taking my cock in her life she was meant for it. I was getting ready to blow, even as she confidently smiled and told me, in a rather motherly reassuring way, that she wanted me to fill her up.
"What if we get pregnant?" I asked, suddenly breaking the fantasy.
"I don't care," she said, moaning, "I want you to cum inside of me."
But I was suddenly awash in the thoughts of new bills, the expenses, the work it would take to bring another child into this world. And at the last moment, I pulled out my cock and fired a load upwards, where it landed on her startled face and breasts.
"Drew!" she shouted, wiping cum off her nose, "I said to cum inside me!"
"Sorry," I said nervously. She got off me and went to the bathroom to clean herself off, but when she returned she was all sweet again.
"I love you, Drew," she said, cuddling naked up against me.
"I love you too Samantha."
--
Later that week, I got a call while I was home for lunch alone. It was my son's school.
"Hi Mr. Lokkens," the voice said. I recognized it: it was the sexy young administrator who I had met with recently.
"I have an update for you about your son," she said, "Could you please come and meet with me?"
I had to cancel my afternoon schedule, but the memory of those bare tits in that sheer bra of the photo compulsed me forward.
I sat down in front of her and asked her why she called me.
"It's good news, actually," she said, "The issues with your son... they seem to have resolved themselves."
"What do you mean?"
"Your son came into school on Monday very differently," she said. I hadn't noticed anything. "He marched right up to the basketball team as they were gathering and apologized. Now, they may have beat him around a bit at first, he did randomly approach them and all, but after they realized what he wanted, they accepted his apology and moved on. That was a good sign that your son has finally started to learn his place."
I gulped. They had beaten my son and she said that was good news?
"Additionally," she said, "He came to me and apologized as well. I wasn't going to accept his apology as easy as the team had, however," she paused here for a grim smile, "So I told him to really show remorse, he would need to show a grand gesture."
"A grand gesture?"
"Yes, Mr. Lokkens. So we came up with this plan together."
She threw down a stack of papers onto the table. It was a lot of documents!
"First," she read off, "Your son is committing to spending every one of his afternoons cleaning out the basketball team's locker room. Now, those boys can get a little rowdy, so it will be good to have someone like your son on hand to make sure everything is spotless after."
I didn't know what she meant, but the idea of him doing work like that didn't seem like the worst idea.
"Next," she said, "Your son volunteered the idea that he should be supporting the basketball team at every one of their games, primarily by joining the cheerleading team. This was his idea, and we've never had a male cheerleader before, but the girls say that they don't view your son as a threat or anything so they're happy to have him. I asked, gently, if your son was gay, but he assured me he was not, he just felt more comfortable cheering than playing. Do you follow?"
I did. This seemed strange to me, but I didn't know if I should object.
"Third, he said he wants to commit more to the world outside. So, he's going to sign a document that says he will have 9 months of community service done by the end of the school year."
I counted on my fingers: there were nine months left in the year, so that seemed fair.
"Sign here please," she instructed me. I didn't see any problem, so I signed.
"Great," she said, locking all the papers away in a drawer. "Now that you've signed, let's return to the topic of those community service hours. Nine months of community service hours, let's say 30 days in a month, 24 hours in a day, that's 6,480 hours of community service that will need to be completed by the end of the year. Since your son has classes, duties in the basketball locker room, and cheerleading practice, and I presume he needs to sleep a little, someone else will need to be helping out to make sure all those hours get done before the end of the year. I suppose your other son can pitch in, certainly he has the time, but there will still be more hours that will need to be covered."
