Just a Swingin' Pt. 05

"Maya!" he shouted, as the little maid rounded the corner then immediately reentered the hallway and walked towards him.

"Is everything OK, Señor Blake?" she asked, her young voice light - her accent heavy.

Blake pressed his palm on the door to open it further, and Maya peeked inside and stared at Krystal, naked and bound to the headboard.

"What do I do for this?" Maya asked, staring at the 50 dollar bill Blake was holding up in front of her.

"Nothing," he said, placing his hand on her back and guiding her into the room, "Just watch."

"Now you're talking," said Krystal, smiling and nodding her approval, as Maya took a seat on the edge of Blake's bed, and he shimmied out of his boxers.

"MUCHO GRANDE!" exclaimed Maya, her brown eyes wide.

"Thank you," said Blake, blushing just a little.

"Now where were we?" he asked, as he crawled between Krystal's legs.

"You were about to fuck my married pussy."

"Wrong answer," he said, bending to peck his way through Krystal's silicone valley, down her tanned plateau, to her ambrosial wetlands, "and please watch your language. We have a guest."

Blake gripped the insides of Krystal's toned thighs, and pressed them apart. She was still hard, blood-flushed, and dewy. He licked her bottom to top - his pussy palate primed from his recent field experiences with Kenya and Tina.

"Mmmmmmm," he buzzed against her entrance, then lengthened his tongue into her.

"Please Blake," she said, "I've waited long enough."

"I'll decide when you've waited long enough," he said, turning to wink at Maya, and surprised to find her drawn into the drama. She'd unbuttoned the emerald green uniform to her waist, stretched her basic bra beneath her conical breasts, and lowered her cotton panties to her knees.

"Jes?" she said, pointing first to him and then to herself. And when Blake smiled in the affirmative, she stood, and bent over the bed.

"I think Maya's hot for me," said Blake, getting to his feet, gently sliding Maya's dress up over her narrow hips, and squeezing her tender bottom.

"Don't tell me you're going to fuck the maid!" said Krystal, drumming her feet on the mattress in frustration.

"Do you have to be so crass, Krystal?" asked Blake, tearing a Durex XXXL package open with his teeth and rolling the condom down his rolling pin.

"Hurry Señor or I miss my ride!" fretted Maya.

Helpless to lay a hand on herself, and hornier than a lesbian in a hardware store, Krystal watched Blake prepare to doggy the maid, and hoped he wouldn't be gone in 60 seconds.

"Vaya despacio, Señor Blake. Soy diminuto."

"First Kenyan and now Spanish," he groaned, as he fought for every half inch of her, "I really need to learn a second language."

And having introduced himself properly, it was now time to really fuck the maid - and hard - not because his goal was to satisfy her as much as it was to crank Krystal crazy.

"On your knees, Maya," he said, lifting her onto the bed and over a stack of pillows, and when he drove deep into that satin, Latin tunnel, she squealed at an almost ear-splitting pitch.

"Damn this feels good," said Blake, "Hey Krystal, how do you say, 'Cum on my big 10 inch,' in Spanish?"

But Krystal didn't know and couldn't have answered if she did. Somehow, the unassuming and bashful Blake Cary - the perfect gentleman - had turned the tables on her, rendering her speechless.

"She's right there, Krystal," he said, getting on his feet and squatting, holding Maya's hips steady so he could thump her without sailing her headfirst into the wall, "and I'm right there with her."

"Blake no!" Krystal pleaded, finding her voice, "What about ME?!"

"ME HACES EXPLOTAR! JES! JESSSSSSS!!!"

"Oh my God, Krystal! I'm going to . . . OH FUCK!"

"STOP!" shouted Krystal, "I'M BEGGING YOU!"

"WHEW!" said Blake, dropping onto his back and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, "That was close."

"You come back" said Maya, rushing to put herself together, "You ask for Maya. I clean your room better and I do more this," she added, swirling her finger in the air.

The door slammed behind her.

"Adios Maya!" Blake yelled after her, his hands cupped to his mouth, "What a nice young lady," he added, squinting with some discomfort as he removed the johnny from his jackhammer, "and tighter than the skin on a hot dog."

Pleased with his newfound personality, Blake joined Krystal on her bed, then noticed she'd quieted, softened, and there was no fight left in her. He thought maybe he'd taken the playtime too far, although she hadn't broken into a rousing rendition of Oklahoma to stop it.

"Is everything OK?" he asked.

"I want you to do something for me, Blake," she said, peering up at him, "It's dangerous, but please say you'll do it?"

"What is it, Krystal?" he asked, reaching to remove the bungee cord from her wrists, concerned by her drastic change in demeanor.

"I don't want to fuck," she said, tearfully, "I want you to make love to me."

Blake smiled softly at his neighbor, his golf buddy's wife, Krystal Dollington, but the beautiful girl looking back at him with pleading eyes, glassy and sapphire, was Crystal Barnes, and at that moment, he fell in love with her all over again.

"I've wanted that for as long as I can remember," he said, placing his palm on her cheek and wiping away a stray tear with his thumb, "and right now I don't care how dangerous it is."

He rolled on top of her, soul finally meeting soul on the lovers' lips, and that emotional connection, absent in their previous exploits, elevated their union, and attuned their thoughts to the metaphysical. The kissing, tenacious, but tender and unhurried, served as the undercurrent for what followed: her legs, floating open without conscious will or effort - his hips slowly sinking between them, finding her waiting, welcoming, drawing him into the smoldering center of her universe. And once fully coupled, she bloomed - so deliciously passionate in his arms, that he mused if this was plain old vanilla sex, it had to be the purest most powerful form of it, and a wicked addiction.

"I'm waiting for you, Blake!" she said, breathlessly, "CUM INSIDE ME!"

And more than happy to obey that order, he got his broad hands under her ass, and jerked her up to meet his escalating momentum.

"Let go, baby," he groaned in her ear.

"YESSSSSSS!!" she cried, digging her nails into his back, her convulsion coercing his load from his loins - their mash-up of moans mingled in a singular declaration of unity, so perfect, so poetic, it defined love-making at its transcendent best. And when it was over, he knew it wasn't.

"Hey," said Krystal, dreamily, as he melted away from her, "Know what I just realized?"

"No," he said, his hand finding hers and squeezing it.

"You never told me what I taste like."

"Notes of pineapple, pear, vanilla, and butter. Krystal - you taste like Kendall Jackson Chardonnay."

********

Blake's morning wood was begging for a sanding, but it would have to wait. "Ladies first," his father had always said, and so he found himself dining at the Y once again - the entree the same - the flavor decidedly different. When the salty, mineral cream coated his tongue, he recognized it for what it was - it was him - and the thought of it unleashed an unbridled enthusiasm that brought Krystal to a quick climax, rattling his mouth with thunder and showering his lips with her full-bodied rain. Anxious to repay him for the wanton wake-up call, she got on her knees and endeavored to improve on her previous performance. His robust eruption caught them both off guard, and as he succumbed to the sweet surprise, she took it on the chin - literally. He was barely conscious when he heard her in the shower, and managed to rally.

"May I be of assistance?" he asked, sliding the steamy glass door open and stepping in.

Krystal handed him the bar of Cupidity's signature soap, and he began to exhaust it on her, beginning with those bionic boobs.

"How can you get hard again so fast?" she asked, feeling him expand in her sudsy hands.

"It was probably the pill I took, although it expired over 2 years ago - maybe it's just you, Krystal," he said, kissing her, "Hey, can you bend over and place your palms on the floor keeping your legs straight?"

"You know I can," she said, chuckling, and she did, prompting Blake to lather up her hindquarters, and when she rested her elbows on the bench and spread her legs wider, he slipped his middle finger between them and found her starfish. He tickled it for a bit and wondered, would she? Could she?

"Don't even think about it, Blake," she said, "I'm no Kenya either."

Blake grinned as he centered on her preferred target, then took her in one thrust. She gasped with the sudden fullness and braced her palms against the shower wall, and he got his foot up on the bench for better leverage, and reached around to pinch her nipple and flutter her nub.

"I'm going to fuck you rough like this on the flight to Newark, and I'm going to pay the flight attendants to watch," he said, freewheeling some dirty talk - hey, it worked for Little Dickie, "Now squeal for me just like Maya."

And when the orgasm tore through her, she did squeal just like Maya - only in English, and that's when Blake gave himself permission to pearl jam her. Wrung out and weak in the knees, he gripped the handicap rail to steady himself, feeling more like a man than he had in over 20 years.

That was then; this was now. And as the cab driver whisked them away from Cupidity, en route to Barb and to Ken and to the lies they would be compelled to tell them, Blake and Krystal silently ruminated on what had happened. Yes, it was unplanned, but any objective observer would have seen it coming as surely as a train on the tracks - lights blazing and horns blaring. Living with the consequences, just blocks away from each other in the closely knit Country Club community, would be the high price they would pay for their heavenly indiscretion, and it would come due in unending installments beginning that afternoon.

Meanwhile, back in Cranbury, Ken's temperature was rising as he paced up and down the driveway, readying himself mentally to drive to the Newark airport and pick up his wayward wife. How had it ever come to this? He should have listened to mother:

"That Barnes girl has more testosterone than the entire Princeton University football team, and she's clearly not the girl for you, Ken."

But he had to have a trophy wife, and it had to be Crystal Barnes. He'd managed to live with her outsized libido up until these last few years when it had begun to feel like a threat. Now she'd gone too far, and this cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof had to be declawed. As for that son-of-a-bitch Blake Cary, he'd gone full Brutus on him, and it would be all Ken could do not to punch him square in the nose, but that would be unwise. Cary was in great shape, and obviously not the milquetoast he pretended to be; he was in love with Krystal, and he might do more than just defend himself. More importantly, though, Ken didn't want to show his hand - that's why he hadn't provided proof of the subterfuge to Barb. Although it was a somewhat extreme solution, he'd figured out a way to thwart the nefarious affair, and without looking like a fool.

Checkmate motherfucker!

"Texting Barb?" Krystal asked, buckling her seat belt.

"Yeah, I always do, just before takeoff," said Blake, a weak smile under his sad eyes.

"That's sweet," said Krystal, quietly, with intent to do the same, then "WHAT?! Oh my God! Listen to this!"

They turned to face each other.

"Ken's taken a contractor job at Patrick Space Force Base, and we're moving to Florida . . . in TWO WEEKS! How could he make that decision without asking me?!"

She slapped the armrest.

"That ASSHOLE!"

Then slowly, their faces morphed from confusion, to consideration, and finally to comprehension, and at that moment, everything changed and they embraced. For unbeknownst to Ken, the thousand miles he'd employed to isolate them from each other, had ironically saved their relationship - a relationship that may have destroyed them and those they loved.

"So, Cupidity," said Krystal, as the engines roared to life, "Any interest in going back?"

"That depends," said Blake, "Can I have one night with my holmies at FemDom? And can we ask for Maya?"

"Sure," she said, as the plane lifted off, "As long as you can see your way to reciprocate with some double-double dating."

"I think I'm OK with that now," he said, patting her knee, "So, same time next year?"

Krystal smiled and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Same time next year."

THE END