Happy Birthday, Beautiful Boy

Happy Birthday, Beautiful Boy

Jim Bennings was beside himself. Sweat streaming down his face, chest, and back, he stared down at the smoking lawnmower in disbelief. It was bad enough that the pump in the hot tub went out when the first cool streak of this summer was due to come only a day or so later. When his attempt at repair became too frustrating, he figured he would mow the lawn to take his mind off of the tub (usually he paid Jared, the next-door neighbor's kid, to do it) and the mower, with an ear-shattering POP! and belch of blue-black smoke, announced in no uncertain terms that it was having none of that shit. He didn't know whether to laugh, cry, start cursing a blue streak or get shit-faced drunk. Laughter was definitely not an option; he was far too pissed off. Jim wasn't the crying type, it was too early in the day to get hammered and he was afraid if he started swearing he would be unable to stop. That left only option 5; start dismantling the mower to identify what part -- or parts -- needed replacing. He and Marie weren't poor by any measure. However, they were determined to get their mortgage paid off early, by the end of the year if possible, and had been playing things very tight in the belt lately. At the moment a new lawnmower was just not in the budget if they wanted to keep on schedule.

So what to pay for first, the mower or the tub? Jared usually cut the lawn using Jim's mower; surely he could use his dad's for the next couple weeks. Jim would throw in a few extra bucks for gas and the use of their equipment. He really wanted that damned hot tub functional for the week of cool evenings coming up so he and his wife could soak without cooking to death. Their small in-ground pool was nice to splash around in and cool off in the heat, but they were both looking forward to some warm, bubbly jet action. Their younger daughter was away on a two-week camping trip with old high school friends, leaving the couple the freedom to play, indoors or out, in whatever ways that pleased them. And many of the things that pleased them involved gratuitous nudity and the sorts of activities that, generally, most people would prefer not to see their parents engaged in. They'd hoped there'd be some of those activities taking place in that tub.

He heard the glass patio door slide open behind him. "Jim, what the hell was that?" He turned around and Marie was standing there looking slightly disheveled, her face flushed with a sheen of sweat. She must have been working out.

She stepped through the door with a look of concern on her face. He looked back at her with an expression that was equal parts helplessness and frustration, but, his eyes wandering over her appreciatively, he managed a weak half-smile. "Damned lawnmower just shot craps on me."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, baby," she said as she moved to him, circling his waist with her arms, "This hasn't been your day, has it?" She rested her head on his shoulder and hugged him tightly, sliding her right hand up and down his perspiration-slicked back.

"It just got a little better. A good boobie-hug goes a long way to taking the edge off a rough day."

She leaned back and grinned up at him, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "They're very versatile... that's just one way they can save the day." She winked slyly and gave a quick, teasing little caress along the length of his cock through the fabric of his shorts and gave it a few squeezes for good measure.

He gently grasped her shoulders and smiled, pushing her back at arms' length and running his eyes up and down her luscious, curvy body.

Goddamn she's gorgeous, he thought for the trillionth time. How the hell did I end up with her? I'm a 52-year-old working class schlub and I'm married to a woman who could be a fucking pornstar.

Jim knew he was no slouch. He stayed active, working out regularly, and his machinist job involved a lot of heavy lifting of metal stock and large parts. His chiseled good looks and touch-of-gray hair looked distinguished rather than old, and he sometimes noticed -- often with his wife's teasing commentary -- double-takes and admiring glances from college-age and even high-school girls. But Marie was quite simply the sexiest woman he'd ever met. If she were blonde, she'd be considered a Blonde Bombshell, but she wasn't -- she was a redhead, which, to Jim, made her far sexier. 26 years of marriage and, at the age of 46, she still was outrageously sexy. With her baby-smooth skin, virtually devoid of wrinkles or crows-feet (she was religious about skin care), she could easily be mistaken for a woman in her early thirties. Yes, the years and two kids had added some extra pounds, but damn, were they distributed well. She was always a bit on the statuesque side, but over the years she'd filled out to buxom, shapely magnificence. Her long, wavy naturally red hair cascaded over her shoulders like ringlets of dark, coppery fire, and her emerald-green eyes twinkled with playfulness and the promise of sensual delights to come. And come they did, in abundance.

Jim and Marie had come to the conclusion, years ago, that the secret to a good and lasting marriage was to never stop fucking, and to make sure your partner came regularly. Okay, maybe that was a bit simplistic; there were a lot of other important things too, but that one was absolutely carved in stone. Fortunately, this was not a difficult oath for them to stick to. They absolutely reveled in each other's bodies, and their imaginations abounded with ways to surprise and please each other. Sex was a smorgasbord for them; a little of this, a bit of that, try something new, go back for seconds, thirds, fourths, fifths if you really liked it, and hell, it's all you can eat so just go for broke. They sampled pretty much everything... roleplay, bondage, dirty talk, some light BDSM, shooting home videos -- Marie especially liked that -- and never stayed with something so long it became routine. Rotation, rotation, rotation. Keep it fresh. Both of their daughters were away... their oldest had her own place and their younger girl was away at college -- but still came home for the summer -- so they had the whole house to themselves for nine months out of the year and they had the freedom to play like they did when they were a young couple starting out. They were even members of a local swinger's club. They'd only swapped partners a few times, and usually then only for oral sex (they'd both gained notoriety for their skills at oral pleasure and were regularly hit up with invitations for play.) Most of the time, however, they just went to the club parties to fuck like jackrabbits in the group areas and bask in the unbridled atmosphere of sexuality there. Like true exhibitionists, they always went the extra mile to put on a good show and actually got applause from the group a couple times, which was a lot of fun.

"I think you need to come inside... get a shower and cool off." Jim snapped out of his reverie and sighed. Right now he really wasn't in a state to concentrate on repairs and her suggestion sounded like the best possible option at his disposal. "You look way too pissed off right now to get any real fixing done."

The woman can read me like a book, he thought. "Um, got anything in mind to take my mind off of my mechanical aggravations?"

"Hmm," she hummed, tapping her jaw thoughtfully and gazing off into the air, "I'll have to think on that one. I'm sure I can come up with something. Go get yourself cleaned up and I'll let you know."

"Yeah," he sighed, I'll just get these tools picked up first and -- "

"Now, mister!" she ordered, spinning him around by his shoulders and giving him slap on the ass. "You're sweaty and you stink. Hit the showers!"

"As you wish, boss." He headed inside, a slight lopsided grin on his face.

Marie checked her watch. "T-minus... mmm... five minutes." She turned around and picked up the handful of Jim's tools lying near the open service panel of the hot tub, put them in his toolbag, and brought the bag in the house. She then kicked off her flip-flops and waited to hear the water run in the upstairs bathroom. On hearing the shower start, she trotted up the stairs, stood outside the door, and stripped off her shorts and halter top. She undid the clasp on her watch and held it, watching the seconds tick down. "Two minutes thirty seconds and counting," she muttered, the fingers of her other hand finding their way to the lips of her pussy, still swollen from the epic hour-long masturbation session interrupted just minutes ago by the detonation of the lawnmower.

Jim stood in the shower, letting the cool water cascade over his face and head, as the sweat and heat of the day ran down off of his body and swirled down the drain. Already he was starting to think more clearly. As he faced up into the spray, eyes closed, he heard the glass shower door slide and smiled. "Think of something?" he asked cheerily.

"I'm always thinking about it," she purred as her soft hands glided over his wet hips and around his waist, working their way up his chest. "You know me too well to even ask!" She leaned into him, pressing her large, sumptuous and miraculously gravity-defying breasts into his back. "Yikes!" she yelped. "It's cold!"

"Hmm, let's see what I can do with that!" he quipped teasingly, putting his hands over hers and trapping them against his chest, leaning forward so the cool spray flowed over his back and onto her warm, cushiony tits.

"Aieee!" she squealed as her nipples leapt to immediate attention under the chilly water. "You sneaky, sneaky bastard!" she laughed. "Just look what you've gone and done!" Her erect, rubbery nubs jabbed into his back like two stiff fingertips poking him.

"Can't see anything from here, but I can sure feel it." He cranked the handle of the tap to give the spray some warmth for Marie and turned around, giving her a quick peck on the lips. "Let's see if we can warm these back up and get them to relax a little..." Jim lifted her right boob and lowered his mouth to her nipple while simultaneously trapping the other between his thumb and forefinger. "Mmmmm..." he hummed. He was definitely an ass man, but Marie's bountiful tits were two of his favorite playthings.

Marie's head fell back as she drew in a deep breath. "Mmmm... you can warm them that way but if you think they're gonna relax and go back down you've got another thing coming, mister." She sighed contentedly as he rolled and pinched one nipple while tongue-teasing and lightly nibbling the other, and then switching sides.

He sucked on her erect nub and pulled back until it left his lips with an audible "pop." "I know I've got another thing coming... at least she will be soon."

"Oh, promises, promises." she replied, a dreamy half-smile on her lips, as she twined her fingers in his hair and brought his mouth up to hers. "You'd better be ready to keep that one, buddy." Their lips met and their tongues darted forward, the tips lightly and playfully swirling around each other.

"Mm-hmm" he answered into her open mouth. Their lips separated as he pulled his head back and he looked at her with a quizzical, furrowed brow. "And since when have I not come through with a promise like that?"

She gazed out past him and her voice took a sudden businesslike tone, "Well, as I recall there was that one time in '98 when you -- AIEEE!!" she shrieked as her eyes went wide, her hands flying to her freshly pinched nipple. "Oh, you dirty mother f --" and was stopped short as Jim's mouth crushed against hers, his tongue probing deep. Her back was pressed against the wall, one of his hands grasping her hair while the other got a generous handful of her ass, his fully erect cock pressing against her abdomen. She laughed nastily into his mouth and groaned with want. She turned her head to the side, panting. "Oh yeah... that's my caveman... you fucking barbarian... what are you gonna do to me, huh? Fucking animal!"

Jim pushed back from her, turning her face toward his with a hand to her cheek and looked her in the eyes, recognizing that glazed look and slightly crazed grin. When she cranked up that sort of trash-talk it meant she was seriously worked up, and they'd only been in the shower for a couple minutes... his face broke out in a broad smile. She was already worked up before the shower. It made sense; the mussed hair and clothes, the flushed face, the randy come-ons, her insistence on him showering Right Now... she hadn't been working out while he was on the patio, she'd been diddling herself. She was already mega-horny and warmed up, and he'd been too distracted and pissed off at the time to notice. Well old man, time to set things right.

He slid his hands to her shoulders, down her arms, and grabbed her wrists, pulling them down to her sides. He gave her a quick peck on the lips and jerked his head back to avoid her when she tried to go for a deep kiss, landing a quick little tongue-tip flick on the end of her nose. She growled, a lascivious smirk playing on her lips. He slowly lowered his face to her throat, tickling it all over with his tongue and adding a few nips here and there with his teeth. He started slowly squatting, keeping the teasing going down between her heaving mounds, down the center of her body, slowly making his way to the soft curve of her abdomen. Pressing her hands to the cheeks of her ass, he stopped for a minute at her navel -- one of her favorite erogenous zones -- and, still maintaining eye contact, started teasing and probing the sensitive little crater with his tongue. Her breathing hitched and shuddered, her abdominal muscles involuntarily spasming and relaxing as he tormented her, and he could smell the rich, musky scent of her arousal rising from below in invitation.

"You look good enough to eat from down here, lady."

She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. "Well what the hell are you waiting for? That thing won't lick itself, you know."

He laughed and dropped down into a full squat, planting his mouth squarely over her vulva, his tongue spread flat over her glistening lips and upper teeth pressed against her clit. She jerked and squealed, as he just remained squatting in place, motionless, a wide grin surrounding her sex. He gazed up into her eyes and raised and lowered his eyebrows a few times, Groucho-style.

"Oh, you are NOT gonna just kneel down there and tease me, motherfucker!" Her voice was almost quavering with desperation. She tried to furiously buck her hips and press her aching pussy into his mouth, but he moved his hands -- still clasping her wrists -- to her hip bones and pushed her against the wall, pinning her in place. She whined. He slowly licked upward, his tongue parting her slick folds and delving into the sweet recess between, maintaining the pressure of his upper teeth upon her clitoris, and she groaned. As he languidly licked upwards, his teeth slid up over her throbbing clit and released it from their pressure, and she grunted. When he finally made it to her precious pink jewel, the tip of his tongue exited her cleft and darted over her hood, pressing down, circling her clit three times, and then lashing across the exposed head. "Oh, FUUCK!" she hissed. He repeated the cycle, over and over, savoring her sweet juices and musky aroma, and basking in the symphony of moans, gasps, hisses, strangled cries, and other assorted sounds that an oversexed and overheated woman can make while being tortured with pleasure and denied release.

At one point her wrists escaped his grasp and her right hand dove straight to her clit as she frantically attempted to push herself over the edge, and he swatted her hand away with a ferocious "NO!" He grabbed both her hands and again held them in place. "NO, NO TOUCH-A DA POO-SAY!" She glared back down at him, her eyes smoldering with frustration and lust. "Put your hands wherever you like but this..." he gave a quick lick up between her labia, "Territory..." (lick)... "Is..." (lick)... and in a savage growl... "MINE!!"

With that he released her hands and they immediately shot upwards to her tits and started pinching and rolling her hard, prominent nipples, and he went to town on her sopping, throbbing pussy, devouring her like a ravening beast. He licked, he sucked, he nibbled her soft folds, he tongue-fucked, he feasted like it was his last meal before execution, and her incoherent babble of grunts, groans, barks, and squeals increased in intensity as she leaned her head back against the wall, eyes clamped shut, her face a rapidfire slideshow of expressions straight out of the Spanish Inquisition.

Jim sensed her approaching her tipping point and slid two fingers into her hot, slopping sex, stroking her vaginal ceiling. As he caressed the rough, spongy strip of trigger he knew so well with rythmic, "C'mere" beckoning motions, he moved his other hand between her thighs and under her ass to support her weight against the inevitable loss of leg strength that was sure to come. He let his middle finger slip between her butt cheeks so he could press on her perineum and anus as his thumb slipped into her vulva, pressing down on the little spongy pad on her vaginal floor. Her breathing became ragged and hitching. Jim felt her starting to jerk in random, uncoordinated twitches, he saw little miss clitty retreat for cover under her hood... he put his mouth over her clit and sucked...

And the bomb went off.

The cumulative pent-up sexual tension of a full hour of masturbation -- fingering, dildo, vibrator, fantasizing -- combined with the expert ministrations of a pussy-pleasure maestro who knew her body better than even she did herself -- exploded like a supernova. Marie was shuddering, vibrating, as her vision was drowned in waves of sheet lightning and high voltage arcs connected her clit, her pussy, her ass, her heart, her lungs, her nipples, her brain. A raspy, unintelligible animal cry issued from her throat, like the cry of a wildcat echoing across a frozen lake. Her thighs were trembling, vibrating, and her knees buckled. Jim's hand was under her for support, but one-handed he could only slow her descent as she slid down the wall. And then she was sitting on the shower floor, frog-legged, her knees spread wide while Jim's squatting knees hugged her sides. She gazed at him, her eyes half-lidded, panting for breath with a wide, drugged-looking smile. And she knew with certainty that it wasn't over. She had an idea what was coming. Her smile grew wider and nastier. Bring it on, fucker.

When Jim was confident she'd caught her breath and could support herself again, he grasped her wrists, stood up, and pulled her into a standing position, her arms outstretched over her head. They locked gazes; her wrists pinned to the wall, she looked deep into the sparkling, mischievous eyes of the strong, capable man who held such power over her, and knew that the trash-talk resistance play was over. She was his ragdoll now; she would be subject to his every whim as he positioned her, bent her, shaped her to his lusty desires, used her to extract every bit of pleasure he wanted from her -- and goddamn, she was ready for it. She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, and in a quavery, little-girl voice,

"Mister... Wh-what are you gonna do to me?"

With a wide, feral grin, he released her wrists, grabbed her upper arm just below her shoulder, and whirled her around to face away from him. She laughed lustily, and braced her hands and forearms against the wall, anticipating the onslaught from her favorite position. Of course, every position was her favorite position at some time or another, but this one was her favorite at the moment. He grasped her hips, pulled her back toward him, and used his feet to spread hers farther apart. Her legs were spread wide, his throbbing cock nestled between the cheeks of her magnificent ass. He paused to revel in the scene before him, drinking in the view before guiding his cockhead down, between her ass cheeks, over her puckered asshole -- eliciting a sharp gasp from her -- to her waiting, slick and quivering pussy lips. He pushed forward slightly and paused, neither in nor out, until she growled and pushed back against him, trapping the head of his engorged prick into her inner sanctum. He tightened his grasp on her hips, locking her in place, and waited.