George and Martha Pt. 03

"George ... I'm ready for another baby, you think we could add another load of baby batter to what exists, increasing my chances? Close the door, no more little eyes in the dark."

After undressing and spending some time with foreplay we made slow sensual love. Culminating with a nice thick load of sperm in my fertile field. Next day there I was, nervously awaiting the little kindergarten bus to stop at the end of our drive, it was like a damn family reunion, all three gramma's were there, milling around, checking her clothes and hair, Weezy giving her a spit bath to wash off the jelly on her chin. I thought to myself, how in the world did I miss that? I'm sure I washed her face.

Our little princess walked onto that bus without a moments hesitation and my heart dropped to the cement. Not a tear, not a sad look backward, what I got was my angel stopping at the top step, turning and waving to me with a smile across her face. As the bus drove away I was bawling my eyes out. Weezy slapped my ass and told me to get over it,

"She gon be back at eleven girl. You gon do dis three mo times, you best get yo head straight suga."

I knew she was 100% correct, but I still wanted to be a mommy and lament my child leaving my side. Shannon took to school like a duck to water, waded right in and never looked back. I could afford to have a nanny come in five days a week and chose to do so. Not only was she good with the kids she was a workaholic, I never created more work for her, but if she saw something needed doing, it was done. She's of Polish descent, in her early 50's and finds our young family of multicolored babies interesting, the only one as brown as me was the second, the other two have that kind of Halle Barre hue. When she first did laundry she was red faced as she sorted the basket from the master bedroom.

"Mrs. George, you wear these things? He make you dress like this?"

"He doesn't make me wear them, I wear them because he likes them, they're part of the reason I've been non-stop pregnant, or so it seems. George loves my body, I want to do anything I can to make him love it more."

"I think my Igor like this too, not sure about me though."

"Why don't we sit down after lunch, when the littles are napping and we'll go through a couple of catalogs together. I think you'll find they have sexy things for older ladies just like they do for younger ladies, and ladies who have as many babies as I do."

With the kids down we paged through, Amelia blushed at several items I said I had that sent George over the moon, especially the bra with open nipples. I told her it sent George into a fit of horniness the first time I wore it, him making love to me three times that night. Next morning I almost couldn't walk, she laughed and said she remembered those days.

"I think maybe Igor not want to look at me anymore, been married a long time. These not for old ladies with saggy boobs anyway."

"Let's give it a try, it'll be my gift to you. We'll order one of these, and let's get you a nice lace bra, semi-transparent. What kind of panties do you wear?"

"Regular kind."

"You mean white full briefs?" She nodded yes. "Let's get you a few pair of hip hugger bikini panties, they're a little higher than what I wear, you'll be more comfortable in those to start with."

"What you wear they don't cover nothing."

We placed the order, when I told George about it that evening he said poor old Igor will have a heart attack when he see's his wife dressed in "fuck me" underwear. With that in mind I put my open nipple bra on along with a micro-thong. As I walked out of the bathroom I watched George's cock go from limp to rock hard in seconds. As he reached for me I kissed the top of his head.

"Do I still turn you on Puddin, even with the stretch marks and breasts that have been sucked on non-stop for years?"

He lay back, slid off his underwear and pointed at his very erect cock. "Baby, you still have it, now climb on and slide that little chocolate treat over my vanilla swizzle stick."

Lowering myself we watched as he disappeared inside my body, after all these years of being together and making love, the integration of our bodies is still something we cherish watching. He was big, strong, at times demanding in our love making, but in the end, it was always me who was in control.

That powerful muscular man beneath me, the one with the hairy muscular chest and tight tummy could do anything he wanted, and I would be helpless to stop him in the natural. Except it was a tiny pink, wet, warm, slippery opening between my legs that always brought my Samson to his knees. Secretly I loved the fact that all his power was saved for me, for a tiny pink slit that gave him so much pleasure. Breasts that had seen their better days still able to arouse his desires, a tummy that was once taught if not flat, now had the permanent pooch to it that having kids will cause.

Yet in all of these shortcomings in my eyes, my Puddin still loved to squeeze me ass, suck my nipples, kiss me passionately, and claim my pussy with his sperm. I lowered myself on top of that stiff tool enjoying the sensations as it scraped along the sides of my vagina, opening it wider, penetrating until just before my cervix. My pussy knew her lover, the cock that filled her so graciously, that fed her the creamy goodness we call cum, she was pliable and readily received the intruder more easily than she did years ago. The tightness may not be there any longer, but the stimulation certainly was.

As I picked up pace, George pulled me down so he could suck the nipples sticking through the bra, I had pulled the thong to the side when we started and it was in the way. George lifted me, pulled the thong off, put me on my tummy and raised my ass up by my hips. I knew where we were going and I literally squealed, we hadn't been able to do it like this in some time. As quickly as he raised me I shoved two pillows under my tummy and pushed my ass as high as I possibly could, I felt George at the entrance and pushed back onto him with my hands against the headboard.

My snatch swallowed him in one gulp, one long slow gulp, both of us making a soft satisfying noise when he hit bottom. My God, the stimulation and depth were out of this world. With my back arched, my hungry little slit swallowing his meat and me pushing into him as hard as I could my first orgasm came quickly, my abdomen was shaking and gyrating around, I had never cum like that before. George stopped to see if I was okay, me telling him not to stop, give me everything he had, I needed cock, more cock.

Puddin did what I asked, he laid pipe with enthusiasm and focus, making full strokes and hitting my ass with his body on every down stroke.

"George cum baby, I can't take much more, please cum."

I'd no more than said it when the second orgasm ripped through my body, causing George to unload as well, pushing against me, spewing all that creamy goodness I so desired inside my vagina. My vaginal muscles contracting, squeezing, drawing out every morsel of sperm in that magic shaft. My hips were still undulating and the sensations so overwhelming I finally threw myself forward off his dick, I simply couldn't take it any longer. George grabbed a towel off the nightstand and slid it beneath my gaping, leaking pussy. He said the lips were moving in and out like a baby's lips when sucking. Well I suppose so, my pussy was sucking one very long and fat nipple, why wouldn't it want more?

Amelia's package arrived a few days later, she was both excited and apprehensive as she opened it. She held the red nippleless bra up against her body and her face was nearly as red as the bra. I had only heard her belly laugh a few times, and I had never heard her giggle until today. Holding the panties against her dress she beamed and moved her hips in a suggestive manner.

"I think Igor like this a lot. Maybe after I wear this I don't walk so good next day either. Be like Mrs. Martha, with smile on my face and sore between my legs."

Before she left that afternoon I told her she could use the dryer for her cotton panties if she wanted to, but not the bras, they should be air dried. She could also air dry the panties, they would last longer that way, it was up to her. Friday she was as active as usual, she hadn't worn anything different for Igor yet, she was saving it for Saturday night, their once a week love making night. I thought to myself that would not fly in this household, if one isn't horny it seems the other one is.

On Monday she walked in with a smile and hugs for the kids, walking gingerly. I smiled and raised my eyebrows, she winked and said, "at coffee I tell you."

I was so excited to hear of her Saturday night I was nearly giddy.

"I put on panties and special bra under my robe, I tell him he have to take it off before he make love to me. He like a school boy when he see me. Tongue hanging out, through his pants I see him get hard, he reaching for my nipples. Old saggy boobs he don't care, he suck nipples like a new baby. I tell him take off his clothes and pull panties off with his teeth, he don't do that for a long time."

"Was it exciting for you Amelia, did you enjoy it?"

"I like very much, feel so sexy, he put his face between my legs like he used to, then he make love to me two times Saturday night. I think maybe is all we going to do this week, but yesterday he make love to me on kitchen table and last night in shower. Maybe sexy clothes not so good for old lady."

After a laugh I told her she was not old by any means, there were many years of romance and love making ahead of her, as soon as the novelty wore off Igor would stop trying to screw her every day. We did however sit down after lunch and she ordered more lingerie, saying she wasn't going to let the moment get away from them. Sex was fun and enjoyable again, she wanted that to last as long as possible, telling me Igor walked out of the house this morning like a stallion who would be ready to come home and service his mare at days end.

Amelia reached the point where she was wearing sexy panties and skimpier bras everyday, never revealing to anyone other than me and Igor she had become a closet slut for her husband. She told me there was more than once he walked through the garage entrance into the kitchen wearing nothing but an erection. He'd lift her dress, put her on the table or counter and lay the pipe to her as an appetizer for later on. Being well past the age of conception she said sex was fun and exciting, anytime, anywhere.

There isn't as much drama in our lives concerning race differences as when we were first together, people have seemed to accept us as we are, or maybe we've all grown up a bit more. George isn't so quick to fly of the handle, and people don't seem to address their inner feelings as publicly anymore. There are those who say it doesn't happen any longer, yes, it does, just more subtly than before.

Dairyland Power was having a big shindig at the La Crosse headquarters, coat and tie for the men, cocktail dress for the women, George was to be promoted into the supervisory position he'd been working toward for several years. It was to be announced during this gala affair at the Radisson, there was no way we could miss this one without ruffling feathers.

I found a gorgeous light blue knee length dress with a drop neckline and three quarter sleeves. I had plenty of sexy attire for beneath, choosing sheer white silk stockings with a white belt, peach colored sheer panties and a matching bra. George saw me without the dress and I damn near ended up on my back with my legs spread, that man is such a cock hound. (And yes, I'm glad he is, as long as it's me he's screwing) I wore the pearls and earrings left by my mom, the very jewelry I'd worn years ago when George had defended my honor.

We booked a room at the Radisson so we wouldn't need to leave the facility afterward, neither of us drank heavy, but two or three will get you a DUI, why risk it. Leaving our room there were folks from other branches of the company milling about near the elevator, some nice, some not. George turned to address a foolish young man who was staring at us with contempt, shaking his head, I had George by the arm whispering in his ear, "No hitting tonight."

As George towered over the guy his wife stepped in and began to verbally chastise her husband. George and I didn't need to say or do another thing other than get on the elevator and make our way to happy hour. People were extremely kind, welcoming us, congratulating George on his promotion. A middle aged black lady hugged me and pointed toward a handsome young pair of men at the bar, a black and a white man, telling me to steer clear of them if possible. They think they're God' s gift to women, talking trash all the time, the white guy really hits on black ladies heavy, just be careful.

"But I'm the mother of three and with my husband George, surely they'll see that and not bother me."

"If they know you're a mom, it'll be even worse, they use the euphemism MILF, which I'm told means, (she lowered her voice to a whisper), moms I'd like to, well, you know the word. Like I said honey, avoid them, stay with your husband, whom, if I might say so, is cute."

I flashed her a smile for complimenting me on my hubby's cuteness. I maintained a leery eye on the duo, noticing the white guy stared at me a lot, which made me scoot my chair closer to George, who knew my signals well enough to recognize I was scared. Putting his hand on my thigh he lightly patted, letting me know he was aware I was afraid. During appetizers and salads I noticed George watching my eyes, when he figured out the issue I leaned in for a soft kiss, then whispering, "No hitting, please baby, not in here."

"They so much as make a pass at you I'll put them in the ground, especially that cocky little prick in the blue blazer." (the white guy)

"Please Puddin, not here. I'll give you lots of warm creamy you know what later if you can be a good boy."

The night went well, the meal was excellent, conversation at our table was pleasant and interesting. It was a table of eight with a young couple directly across from us, him being from Kenya and very dark skinned, she being from Haiti and lighter in color. We hit it off right away, they wondered how we met and all the rest, as we told our story the entire table listened. The gentleman to my right, older very distinguished and proper, his wife the same with a banks worth of expensive but not gawdy jewelry, began clapping his hands lightly as we finished.

"That is one of the sweetest and most romantic things I've heard in years. It's obvious you two are very much in love."

His wife proposed a toast, we felt singled out, and somehow special at the same time. No idea who these folks are, but they certainly are kind. When it came time for the promotions and awards the announcer asked the company president to please join him on the platform. As the man next to me stood my stomach jumped into my throat, holy shit, did we behave ourselves, did my hair look alright, oh my gosh, we've been sitting next to the president of the company and we didn't even know it. Should George have known who he is? Oh crap, I wasn't expecting this curve ball.

By the time George was being called forth the only ones left at our table were us and the young couple across from us. When George was about half way to the stage I noticed blue blazer out of the corner of my eye, headed toward me, sitting where George had been. In a flash the young black guy was on the other side of me. As George was shaking the presidents hand he looked my way and started off the platform, the president stopped him and asked where his lovely bride was.

"She's back there being harassed by those two idiots, who are about to wish they'd never bothered my wife."

By the time George got to the table there were several men making sure he couldn't get to the two as others had them by the arms dragging them away from me. The company president took the mic and asked what crew those two young men were on, from the side an older man stood. The president pointed at him and said, "Find them and be in the lobby in fifteen minutes."

The young couple was talking about how the two kept saying I wasn't getting enough sex at home and that George was probably a pencil dick, that I needed them to show me a good time in bed. The president's wife had come to the table immediately and had heard everything they said. Sitting next to me she patted my hand, "Sweetie, this isn't happening on Harold's watch, this will end tonight, my promise to you."

I could see the hurt and rage in Georges eyes. I felt so sorry for him, all he wanted to do was take me out and share his promotion with me, once again others ruined that and he ended up having to protect me. Lots of folks came around to congratulate us, George would be the youngest supervisor in company history. As we were about to leave we learned the company president not only fired them but had gotten the HR people involved and Dairyland would be filing sexual harassment charges against them.

Walking to the elevators he stopped in the middle of the hall, bent down, hooked his arms under my butt and lifted me eye to eye, laying a wet smacking kiss on me.

With a smile he asked, "Do I still get my reward? I didn't hit anybody."

"Only one reward? Gee, maybe you are a pencil dick if all I'm going to get is one load tonight."

He growled in my ear, "Pencil dick, I'll shove this thing so far up your snatch you'll think it's in your chest. Pencil dick indeed."

Setting me down we walked arm in arm to the elevators, glad there'd been no one near enough to hear our conversation. In the room we acted like a pair of newlyweds, on fire with lust, falling asleep after the second go round. In the morning I asked if he'd like to go again.

"Baby, I hate to beg off, but your sweet little cunt sucked every bit of life out of me last night, I've got nothing left."

"Oh thank you, I didn't know if I could go again or not, I just knew I wanted you satisfied. Let's go home, I want to see our babies."

Number four was in the oven and due in six months. When Lois arrived, we talked about how many more we might have, deciding on one more than having my tubes tied. About the same time Auntie and Weezy decided they would cash in their chips and retire, wanting to focus all their efforts on spoiling our babies. Carlos retired, again, this time for good. We now had three delivery vans going eight hours a day Monday through Friday and a half day on Saturday, delivering as far as fifty miles away. Sydney is still with us, as are two other men with down syndrome, hard workers, grateful to be needed somewhere.

George has been in his supervisory position a year and a half, it makes me feel safer knowing my love, my protector, my essence for being, is no longer 30 feet or more in the air in a bucket truck. The kids keep me occupied full time, I've hired a full time accountant for the business and a production manager for the large bakery, both answering to me at a weekly staff meeting. The manager is a short white gal almost as round as she is tall, married to an average looking white guy. Don't let her roundness fool you, she knows her business and she isn't afraid to let others know it. The accountant is a tall black skinny drink of water married to a black girl as average as I am.

We've only been back to Fort once, Dee's has expanded into the old deli next door, Ted and Irene do less and less of the baking now, in any of their stores. Their time is spent running their enterprise. When Georges dad passed away we moved his mom into a duplex right across the street from Auntie and Weezy's, they all live separately, while looking out for each other. The three of them are quite the topic of conversations as they toodle around town. Two old black ladies and an old white lady, best of friends and into mischief most of the time.