Happy Birthday, Beautiful Boy

There was no fear of her slipping. Jim had installed the spacious shower stall himself, with function in mind. Visitors who saw it were effusive with compliments. It was beautiful; the floor and three walls were dotted with differently colored polished river stones, embedded in cement. It took Marie awhile to get accustomed to the bumpy surface barefooted, but the unsmoothed cement made textured bath mats unnecessary. No one bothered to question the presence of handicap grip rails in a shower that was clearly not wheelchair accessible... it wasn't designed to be wheelchair accessible, it was designed to be horny couple shower-sex accessible. The floor provided excellent traction, and the various handrails enabled a wide variety of stable positions in which to thrust, squirm, and bang away, which they did rather frequently.

Marie stood, forearms pressed against the stone-studded wall, feet gripping the rough mortar of the shower floor, loins aching at the stillness of her husbands cockhead pressed at the entrance of her womanhood. She knew a powerful fucking would soon commence, but not when, and knew that the timing was not in her command. She inhaled deeply, and blew a blast of air from her nostrils. She needed fucking; and needed it badly. She gritted her teeth.

"Oh, God, Jim... please... don't fucking tease me... give it to me... please."

He pushed forward slowly, ever so slowly, into her slick, swollen passageway. Her forehead found a flat spot between the polished stones and she let the world shrink around the sensations of her nether regions. Jim gradually eased himself in until he was buried to the hilt, his thighs pressed against the backs of his wife's, and Marie sighed with pleasure. Slowly backing out, the crown of his cock at her entrance, he then pushed in, a scant inch or two, pulled out, and repeated. He fell into a quick rhythm, short-stroking her, only fucking the first two inches of her slick cunt, and she was soon panting. He then, in one long, smooth stroke, buried himself deep inside her. She gasped. He pulled out and repeated. Her eyes rolled back. He went back to those short, shallow strokes, using the head of his plump tool to rake across her G-spot as her energy rose and rose and then plunged deep, again and again, before returning to short-fucking the vestibule of her tunnel. There was no pattern she could get used to... 3 short 2 deep, 10 short 4 deep, 5 short 1 deep... the unpredictability of his plunging was maddening, and her sexual tension and frustration rose and rose. This man, this sex machine, had been fucking her, studying her, for years -- decades -- and was playing her like a violin. The teasing and torture continued for what felt like hours, until she heard that low, drawn-out growl that signaled it was time for the crescendo.

She braced herself for the storm, and the storm was unleashed.

Jim could restrain himself no longer. He held onto his wife's hips and thrust into her, hard and deep, with wild abandon. His loins and thighs clapped wetly against her plump ass filling the small room with steady applause, his animal snarls and grunts met with the counterpoint of Marie's grunts, barks, and squeals. He reached around and found her clit and started frigging furiously. Her thighs trembling violently, she pulled one arm away from the wall and pinched and pulled on a nipple, and that's all it took. Her muscles convulsing, her body came alive in wave after wave of electric sparks and she called out in shouts that were equal parts laughter, yelping, and tremolo groaning. Her cunt clamped down on Jim's swollen, hypersensitive prick as it sawed through her slick, spasming tunnel and the sensations racing through his member burst forth, blasted up his spinal cord and down his legs and set off jet after jet of hot cum deep into the body of his lusty goddess. It seemed to go on forever, and neither could recall how they'd made it down to the floor but there they were, gasping, laughing, and spooning tightly together.

As their breathing returned to normal they realized just how damned cold the shower was. Having completely lost track of time, they'd emptied the water heater tank. Hastily turning off the shower, they toweled off and headed to their bedroom.

After Jim blow-dried and brushed his wife's hair, they canoodled and joked and Marie bemoaned the fact that they hadn't bothered to set up a camera to capture their steamy shower session. When he pointed out that they already had several videos of previous showers, she immediately opened up their folder of home recordings and searched for previous wet and steamy romps, and soon they were watching a recording of the two them fucking in the shower at the Hilton from last year's New Year's Eve party. This gave way to a really nice one shot at home (which included three different camera angles) when they broke in their new shower installation. Then came the shower sex they shot in the now-closed hotel where they attended a hot swingers party two years ago. This led to them tossing the remote aside and attacking each other for a good solid hour of bouncy-bouncy, with lots of speed and style change-ups, followed by a half hour of requisite cuddling and pillow talk. This was followed by ravenous hunger when they realized they hadn't eaten in 7 hours. As neither were were willing to fuck up a perfectly good post-coital glow with kitchen prep, they opted for digging out a couple bottles of wine and ordering a pizza. By the time it arrived, the sun was setting and the air had cooled enough that it was comfortable to sit outside. They sat on the patio, enjoying their pizza and sipping wine, and watched the sun slip below the horizon.

"So what do you plan on doing about the jacuzzi and the mower?"

"Well... I haven't priced pumps for the tub yet... and when I tried to take the bad one out this afternoon some specialty fitting cracked apart so I'll have to replace that too. I'll run over to the tub & spa place tomorrow to see if they have the parts in stock, but this is an old model so they'll probably tell me they have to order it, and who knows how long that'll take. Pisses me off. I take a day off from work so I can drain the tub, refill it, and have it up to temperature in time for the cool front this weekend and the damned thing suicides on me. God, I hope it doesn't take longer than a day or two to get those parts... we haven't had a good soak in almost four weeks, it's been so hot and humid, and it's supposed to go back to being swamp hell again by Thursday or Friday."

"What about the lawnmower?"

"Well... I'll open it up tomorrow and see how much of it's salvageable, but I don't have a good feeling about it. A new drive motor will probably cost as much as just getting a new mower, and I don't know what the tub job will run. I really don't want to use the credit cards; we've been really good about that this year. I'd just as soon hold off for another pay period and Jared can use his old man's mower. I'm sure Tony won't mind as long as I send it back clean and cover the gas."

"You can tell Jared when he comes by for his pie tomorrow."

The Bonginos had moved next door when Jared was eight. Jim's wife was instantly smitten with him, and the boy returned the adoration with interest. Upon first tasting her apple pie, he declared that it was the best apple pie in the whole wide world (Jim had to agree with him there,) and from his ninth birthday on Marie made it a point to bake him a small pie of his very own. He never missed one, and received every one of them joyfully and with effusive thanks. Shy, polite and good-natured, he made Jim and Marie feel like he regarded them as family -- as close as his own -- and they enjoyed his occasional visits. Marie fawned on him and always referred to him as her Beautiful Boy. And truly, he was. Slight of build, with fine facial features and large, expressive dark eyes, he looked like a young prince from a fairy tale. He'd grown into a very handsome young man, but maintained the slimness and elfin features of his youth. Women would be inclined to use the word "pretty" to describe him. He more resembled a young Adam Ant or David Bowie than a Jason Momoa or Chris Pratt, but a lot of females really dug that look, as a glance at most Boy Bands of the last 20 years would confirm.

"Know when he's coming over?"

"Helen said he'd be by around 2 when he gets home from work. I'm going to bake in the morning before the day heats up."

"Blows my mind the kid's actually working part time and taking summer classes. When I graduated high school I just wanted to spend the whole summer driving around, getting laid and finding out who could score us beer or weed."

"He wants to be ready for advanced classes at Uni. He's a responsible young man with goals. I like that. And as brilliant as he is beautiful. My beautiful boy..." Marie gazed out into the night sky with a gentle smile and a dreamy look in her eyes. Jim watched her and had to repress a chuckle. She'd always been fond of him, but over the past year as he matured her admiration had taken on an additional layer. She was crushing on him. Hard.

"You really got it bad for that kid, don't you?" he quipped. She giggled.

"Oh, do I ever. And it's the big one-eight tomorrow..." She looked over at Jim with a twinkle in her eyes and an indecent smirk on her lips. "He's legal."

"Oooh, Jared, look out. Cougar on the prowl!"

Marie tipped her head back and laughed an earthy laugh. "Oh, what I could teach that boy!"

"I see you've been giving it some thought!"

"Ooooh yeah," she breathed, swirling her wine glass and closing her eyes. "That I have." After a pause, she looked over at her husband with a slightly confused expression. "How is it that he doesn't have a harem of girls following him around? He's so sweet and good-looking, he should be up to his eyeballs in horny high-school pussy. Lord, he could be a male model. Those big dark eyes, and that disarming smile, and..." She searched for the words but they eluded her. "...that lovely, almost androgynous look... that's a look that moistens a lot of panties and can spread a lot of thighs if you know how to work it."

"That's just it, babe. The 'working it.' He's shy. Always has been. And now that he's older, he's painfully shy. He takes a lot of shit from the jocks and the thug wannabees because of his build and his appearance. They make fun of him. He sees the girls throw themselves at those bad-boy clowns and figures he doesn't stand a chance. If he built up some confidence and figured out how to take the suave, flirtatious route, I agree, he could end up being a real ladies man. But right now he's afraid to even make the first move and talk to girls."

"Do you think he's still a virgin?"

"I know he is. He's never even gotten his dick sucked. He's had a few make-out sessions and got a couple handjobs, but that's it."

Marie looked back in surprise. "How do you know all this?"

"He told me. Two weeks ago, when we were working the lawn. While you were out grocery shopping we took a break from the sun and he asked me some awkward -- at least they were for him -- questions about women. And sex. I guess he felt it was easier asking me than his parents."

"Well, that needs to change." She refilled her glass and idly swirled it for a quiet minute or two with a thoughtful look on her face. Finally she spoke up, "You know, eighteen is quite a special birthday for a teenager. It deserves more than just a pie." Jim could see the gears turning in her head and waited for the conclusion. "I should give him a blowjob."

He looked back at her incredulously, open-mouthed. "You serious?"

"Yep."

"Um... you know who this is we're talking about right? Jared? The kid we've known since he was eight years old? The kid we watched grow up?"

It would seem odd to most outsiders that the source of his astonishment was not the idea of his wife sucking someone else's cock, but only the identity of the cock-holder. Jim had watched her go down on other men before at the swing club, and actually felt a flush of pride at her ability to rock their world with her oral skills. She had an almost spooky ability to monitor and gauge a guy's arousal and response, like she was patching into his nervous system through his prick, and could time almost to the second when he would pop his cork. The fact that a guy could experience her talents, knowing that she was Jim's loyal woman and he could -- and did-- get that anytime, anywhere, made him the object of envy and made him feel like a stud. She felt the same way about his ability to drive women into a screaming, squirting frenzy with his mouth and hands. So that was no big deal. But this kid was like their surrogate son.

"He's not a kid anymore, Jim. He's a young man. A very inexperienced one, but still a young man. He needs to know what he's missing, what's out there for the taking if he'd just steel himself up and take a chance. Build some confidence that he's sexy and attractive and has what it takes to get in on the action that he's denying himself."

"Oh, and that's all, right? It's all about character building for Jared? Nothing else?" he gently taunted her with a knowing smirk.

"Uh... well yeah, that and I've got the hots for him and I really want to suck his dick."

"That's the Marie I know!" He poured another glass of wine. "I'm just surprised you'd go through with it. While he was growing up he was like the son we never had, and he looked at you like his second mom."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, honey, let's be real here. That mommy shit went out the window the moment he hit puberty. He's been checking out the goods since he was about thirteen or so, and these past two years he hasn't been able to keep his eyes off me."

"Truth," he agreed, pausing for a sip. "His eyes keep homing in on your ass like it was magnetized, and he's constantly locked in a superhuman struggle to keep from ogling your tits. With, of course, all the success one would expect from a horny teenager."

"I think it's cute! He's such a gentleman. He at least tries to not stare. Or at least to not get caught staring. A lot of guys his age don't even make the attempt. They just gawk without ever looking up at your eyes, looking you over like you're a piece of meat in a butcher shop and you should be grateful and turned on by the fact that they want a bite. It's gross. My beautiful boy's horny but he's not creepy. He deserves a reward for being sweet and respectful."

Jim leaned back in his patio chair, eyes closed, stretching and taking in a long, deep breath. With a wry half-smile twisting the corner of his mouth, he let it go, exhaling a sigh of resignation. She'd won. If he'd truly objected, she'd have dropped it and not mentioned it again, but she'd convinced him. Jared wasn't jailbait anymore. He could use the ego boost. And goddamnit, where the hell was the horny MILF neighbor passing out pies and blowjobs when he was eighteen? He would have killed for a birthday present like that. It's every teenage boy's fantasy; why not indulge him? He's always been a good kid. He deserves it.

"Alright, Svengali, just how is this going to go down?"

"Well, I..." she giggled, "I saw what you did there!"

"Hey, what can I say, I've got a way with words."

"You're quite the cunning linguist. Let's see..." She stared out into the night sky, tapping her jawline and thinking... "Well, you know it's going to be pretty hot tomorrow afternoon, so I'll probably want to go for a swim..."

They spent a little while plotting, scheming, and finishing their wine before heading in for the night and climbing into bed. After the heat of the day, the wine, and the two energetic sessions of very satisfying sex, they spooned and felt themselves melting together, their weary bodies pulling them down into a deep, blissful sleep.

It was 10 a.m., and Jim was feeling the heat. He had awakened just after dawn, carefully getting out of bed so as to not wake his wife. She'd be up soon enough; they had turned in pretty early the night before and they'd conked out pretty quickly. He wanted to get to work as soon as possible to beat the inevitable rising temperature. By now his shirt was soaked with sweat, along with his shorts. He'd need a shower and change of clothes before going to the tub & spa store. His suspicions about the mower were correct: It was a goner. The cracked, warped, blackened components lay at his feet like a stripped carcass on the Serengeti. He channeled his best DeForest Kelly and growled, "It's dead, Jim." He'd salvage whatever parts he could later; maybe the blade could serve as a backup for the new mower if it had a compatible mount.

He'd managed to wrangle the pump out of its housing under the hot tub, along with the pieces of the broken fitting. He put them in a burlap bag he'd found in the garage with Marie's gardening supplies, wiped his hands off on a shop towel, and retreated into the blissful air conditioned house. Inside, he was immediately greeted by the heavenly aroma of his wife's Whole Wide World-Famous apple pie. He looked down at the two bumpy, golden-brown discs of heavenly delight cooling on the kitchen table and his mouth watered.

"Don't even think about it, buster. One is for Jared, the other we don't touch until after dinner."

Jim groaned. Keeping his hands off of Marie's apple pies was almost as herculean a feat as keeping his hands off of her ass. Almost.

"I'm gonna go shower up and hit the tub shop. You need me to pick anything up while I'm out?"

"No, I think we're good. Need any help scrubbing your back?" she asked in that impish, teasing tone he loved so.

"Uh, gonna have to take a rain check on that, babe. Jared's gonna be here in about four hours and I want to get that tub fixed and filled by this evening. Your shower assists have a way of causing major delays."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Party pooper."

Jim lathered quickly and efficiently and savored the deliciously cool water as it sloughed off the sweat and stink of his labors outside in the swampy, sticky heat. He toweled off, donned fresh shorts and shirt, and made his way to the patio to retrieve the broken parts.

At the tub shop, he was gobsmacked when the assistant informed him that they had in stock not only the proper replacement pump but also the specialty fitting. Holy shit. Fate had finally smiled on him and cut him a break. When he expressed his surprise, he was told that the pump, although a newer model than his old one, was compatible with the old pump housing with the addition of a few adapter brackets -- fifteen bucks; totally worth it -- and the plastic fitting was pretty much universal for all tubs in that product line for the past 10 years. Jim couldn't help pumping his fist in that universal "Yess!" gesture of victory.

The shop guy laughed. "Getting ready for the cool spell this week?"

"Oh, hell yeah," he replied. ""The wife and I are long overdue for some serious tubbie time."

"I hear that. When my girlfriend saw the forecast she was almost doing cartwheels. It's been too hot to soak for weeks." He glanced around and added in that quiet, conspiratorial tone reserved for fellow Guys, "She asked if she can invite one of her girlfriends to come over and join us. I don't know if that means anything or not, but... I got my fingers crossed." He grinned.

"My dude!" Jim gave him a fist bump. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you too. Good luck!"

"Yeah, thanks, man. Oh hey you need any chemicals or filters or anything for your refill?"

"No, thanks, I got all that. I just gotta get this pump in place today." Jim paid out, thanked the assistant, and headed for the door.

"Thank you for your business! Hope you and your lady enjoy your tub time!"

Jim turned to him one last time and winked. "Oh you can bank on that."