Lamia Ch. 04

Christine and I spent Friday night together in my bed. I was tired and had intended just to hold her, but the temptation of her warm, soft body against mine was simply too much. With a groan of need, I reversed on the bed and knelt above her as she lay on her back, my mouth on her luscious pussy while she sucked the head of my cock. I brought her to orgasm first, giving her only a small respite before pushing her to a second climax only a few minutes later.

She kept pulling at my legs, and I finally realized what she wanted. Straightening my knees, I let my cock sink further into her mouth. I hit the back of her mouth but could feel the start of the narrow passage that must be her throat, and all the while her hands at the back of my thighs encouraged me to go deeper. There was resistance, but I felt her shift, tilting her head back, and I began to slide further in.

I had paused in licking her so I could concentrate on what I was doing, and her fingers took over for me, making little circles on her clit. The space was tight enough to exert a gentle pressure all over my cock head, and still she urged me deeper. I must have been four inches down her throat when I hit bottom. I could feel the breath through her nose, tickling the hairs beneath my testicles. I withdrew a few inches and pushed forward again, enjoying the heat, the tightness, and the novel experience.

Finding a rhythm now as I face-fucked her, I pulled her knees toward me and began to tongue her little ass while her fingers kept up their frenetic rubbing. It didn't take long for her to cum yet again, bucking beneath me, her cries nearly silenced by my thick cock. All of a sudden, the muscles of my pelvic floor tensed, and I moaned loudly as I pumped semen directly down her throat.

"Holy fuck," I breathed, slowly withdrawing from her, leaving sticky white tendrils that clung to her lips. I was still hard, still horny as fuck, and wasted no time reversing so that I could bury myself in her pussy. This hole was just as tight as her throat, and I didn't hold back as I used it, slamming into her so hard with each stroke that it forced a grunt from each of us. I leaned close to nibble and suck at each firm nipple.

She came again, warm liquid jetting from her cunt, splashing my groin and thighs. I never let up, groaning and panting in my efforts as our bodies collided violently. I finally came with a roar, hilting inside her and growling as I filled her.

I collapsed on my side next to her and gathered her against me, heedless of the mess we had both made. I laughed out of simple joy, and Christine did the same, pushing her butt back against me. "You're still hard?" She asked incredulously.

"Don't...get...ideas," I panted. "Need a break."

She giggled and started bucking and swirling her hips. "Patricia will be home tomorrow. I'm trying to get as much of you as I can before then. Why don't you lay back and let me drive?"

I flopped to my back and she wasted no time mounting me. She locked eyes as she found the tip of my cock and began to slowly impale herself. Her eyelids fluttered, but she forced them open and held my gaze until she hit bottom. Her eyes closed and she gave a long, soft moan. "I'll never get enough of this thing."

"I love you," I said, and contracted my muscles, causing my cock to flare and twitch inside her. This led to a series of responses, as she would squeeze me and I would flex inside her. I brushed my fingers through fine, tousled hair, and she turned her head to rub her cheek adoringly against the back of my hand.

"Fuck me," I said.

Christine opened her eyes and smiled. "Anything for you, sir." And she did.

I woke the next morning with Christine's body next to me. One hand draped over her to cup a perfect breast. She had cum three more times last night while riding me before she managed to coax one final burst of semen from me. My cock began to rise to attention immediately at those thoughts, but I had other bodily functions to attend to.

I shouldn't have been surprised that Christine was already awake and turned to regard me as I extracted myself from the bed. Since she didn't actually need sleep, she could have been lying there all night just to keep me company.

"Going to the gym this morning?" she asked, slipping out of bed herself.

"Yeah," I called over my shoulder on the way to the bathroom. Fortunately my wood had subsided enough by the time I reached the toilet that I could relieve myself without resorting to contortions. That done, I started the shower and stepped inside.

A moment later, the door opened and I glanced over to see Christine, still naked, sitting down on the toilet. I chuckled in amusement that my robot needed to pee like any other person would.

"Hey, at least I don't get periods," she said, getting another laugh from me. She flushed and got into the shower with me, leaning in for a sensual kiss as the water streamed down our bodies. Then she reached past me for Patricia's shampoo and began to lather her hair.

I watched her for a moment, my eyes drinking in the jiggle of her breasts and ass as she moved. That was all it took for my dick to begin throbbing it's way back to hardness. Realizing that I was staring, I turned away and poured out some body wash, starting with my face, neck, and arms.

While I was scrubbing away, Christine reached around me for the body wash. She poured some into her palm, then reached back again to wrap her little hand around my hard cock and began to pump slowly up and down the shaft. I grabbed hold of a bar to steady myself as her other hand joined the first, squeezing and rolling over the head. I felt her breasts and a lock of wet hair press into my back.

"You really can't help playing with it," I said, and she mewed happily. I turned around in her arms and put a hand possessively around her throat. My cock pressed against her smooth belly as I kissed her once more. "I love you, Christine."

She nodded in response and made to kneel in front of me, but I stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. I got a fresh helping of body wash and coated both hands. Then I slipped my right hand down her front, and the other down her back. One set of fingers wedged between her ass cheeks, while the other found the folds of her vulva. I scrubbed at her gently with both hands, cleaning her thoroughly on the outside.

She leaned against me, going partially limp. I curled two fingers of my right hand into her, penetrating her easily, then doing the same with one soapy finger at her asshole. I pumped and swirled my fingers inside her with the pretense of cleaning her, though my palm rubbing at her clit must have given the game away.

She clutched at me, squirming and crying out softly until she came with a shuddering whine. I rinsed my hands and then washed the rest of our bodies while she held onto me for balance. When I finished, she looked up at me with bright blue eyes. "Can I suck your cock now, sir?"

I was tempted. In the last week, Christine had made me cum more times than the previous two months with Patricia. Any time I thought I had reached my limit, her beauty and her insatiability inspired me to go further.

I laughed and shut off the water. "Not now, my love. I've got to get to the airport in a few hours, and I have things to do."

Her bottom lip came out in a pout and her fingers sought out my cock, finding me still rock-hard. "But I want it."

"No," I said firmly. "You got to cum. You'll just have to be happy with that."

"Fine," she groused, running her hands up and down my shaft a few times. "But you need to come see me after Patricia goes to sleep."

I felt a little pang of guilt at the surge of anticipation that came from the thought of going behind my wife's back. I bent my neck and kissed the wet hair on top of her head. "Okay, I will."

I took an hour at the gym, showering there to avoid more temptation, and Christine messaged me that she had tidied up the bedroom and changed the sheets. A breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast was waiting for me when I got home. She served me nude, probably in the hopes of enticing one more tryst out of me, but I stayed strong. I did not want to raise suspicions by being late to pick up my wife.

Christine saw me to the car, and didn't ask to go with me. "Ring Aidan Clarke, please," I said aloud, once I was underway.

My rig acknowledged the request on my HUD with the prompt "Calling Aidan Clarke...". It rang several times, and I started to think through what I would say in a voicemail when the line picked up. "Hello, Stephen," a voice answered in a brisk English accent. "I was on another call. How have you been?"

Aidan's family had moved in next door to me in my childhood home in Bayview when I was eight. Our parents had become friends, so the two of us usually ended up at one or the other's house, though more often at his, since he had a pool. Though he was three years older than me, he had always treated me as a friend and an equal. I, by contrast, looked up to him, but it wasn't until I turned ten that he let me see his workshop.

What had once been the Clarke family garage had been converted to a makeshift laboratory full of wondrous things. There were half a dozen bipedal robots in various states of construction, old video game consoles that he had restored or rebuilt, drone aircraft that he had designed himself, and a working rail gun, though he made me swear not to tell his parents what it actually was. They thought it was some kind of directional antenna.

Everyone knew that Aidan was headed for greatness. He had gone to Austin to start college just as I began my sophomore year in high school, but he dropped out halfway through the first year. It was not because he couldn't hack it, but because he wanted to start his own company and figured that the university wasn't teaching him anything he didn't already know. He managed to raise the considerable investment capital needed for his startup before I graduated high school, and though he now spent much of his time on the east coast, we had maintained a close friendship. We had each been best man at the other's weddings.

"I've been good," I said. "I was wondering if you might be in town?"

"Not today, but I'll be flying out in a few days. I would love to meet up."

"That's great. There's someone I want you to meet. It's...well let's just say I think you'll find her very interesting."

"Her, huh? Well you've piqued my interest already. I'll let you know when I'm in town. I have to go. Tell Trish I said 'hi'."

That done, I relaxed and sat back to watch the scenery rush by. I thought of Christine's attempts to drag me to bed one more time and smiled. She acted as though she loved me, even if she professed not to. I hoped that Aidan might help me to figure out what had happened to her.

I found Patricia at the baggage claim, and she gave me an enthusiastic hug and kiss on seeing me. She seemed to glow, despite rising early and flying for four hours. While we waited for her luggage to appear, she began to regale me with all of the things she had seen, restaurants she had dined in, and people she had met. Describing her tour of New York, one name kept coming up.

"Craig wants me back at corporate before the end of the week. He'd like me to stay longer next time so that I can collaborate with the team on designing my campaign."

"That's the Vice President, right?"

"Yes, and he's the head of viral marketing. He secured funding for me a few days ago. God, I'm so excited!"

I smiled at her joy at her big break, but my enthusiasm failed to match hers. I knew that I didn't care as much as I should have. Adding to that, I was pretty sure that the next thing they would want to do would be to move her out there so she could be at the office full time. Virtualization of the office had come a long way, but in the end, people still preferred to meet in person. One thing I knew with certainty was that I did not want to move to New York City.

On the way home, I kept quiet for most of the trip, letting my wife do the talking. She seemed oblivious to my mood, which in turn irritated me. It felt like a stranger rode back to my house with me.

Christine appeared as we pulled into the garage, tastefully dressed in one of the less revealing outfits that I had bought for her and asked that she wear while Trish was home. She went to the back of the SUV and unloaded three large bags before I had even gotten out. They looked to weigh next to nothing when she handled them, though I knew that their combined weight was close to 200 lbs. Trish did not travel light, and one of those bags was new.

"Oh, good," Trish asked, when she saw that there was only her carryon left. "I trust our new maid is still working out well?"

"Splendidly," I said, careful not to show too much emotion. "So far, she's been worth every penny."

Trish took the lead as we entered the house, heading for the living room. Suddenly, she raised one hand and poked at the air with it a few times. "There, I just told it to unpack and put my things away."

So she was back to "it" again. "I thought you might want Christine to make you some lunch."

"That can wait." She turned to me and pressed her body against mine. Her hands roved my back. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too." I almost flubbed it, hesitating a fraction of a second, but she didn't seem to notice. I quickly bent to kiss her and cover my mistake. She surprised me by taking my hand and deliberately moving it to her breast.

"Make love to me, Stephen," she said, and lifted a leg to rub against my thigh, "right here, right now." It was not so much the tone of a sultry seductress, but more like the commanding voice she used when speaking to an intern.

I dutifully undressed for her, not quite hiding my shock at the strange turn. She stripped out of the modest skirt and top she had worn for the flight, kicking her shoes across the floor. Her bra and panties were cast aside. Another kiss, and then she was pushing against me, forcing me back. My calf hit the edge of the couch and I toppled. She followed me right down, straddling me. My cock was only half hard, but she grabbed it and began to stroke it roughly while leaning down to kiss my neck and chest.

"You're like a tigress today," I remarked, which got a chuckle and a mock growl from her. I couldn't recall the last time she had done something like this. She lifted her body, positioned my cock at her entrance, and began to sink slowly down its length.

We groaned in unison as I bottomed out inside her. It wasn't the tense grip that I got from Christine, but it still felt amazing. Trish began to ride me, grunting with effort. She closed her eyes and drooped her head down next to mine, letting her hair fall like a swaying curtain.

I put one hand on each pendulous breast, gently massaging them as she bucked. I was starting to enjoy this new, wilder side of my wife. Each time she dropped down and back, I thrust up to meet her. "You love to ride that fat cock, don't you?"

Without stopping in her rhythmic movements, she gave a quick shake of her head and replied in a breathless voice. "Don't."

Whatever pleasure I had been feeling became a strict matter of physical sensation. I couldn't keep the look of anger from my face, but she was too focused on her own pleasure to notice. I stopped thrusting back and let her do all the work.

Five minutes went by, then ten. Trish would take little breaks to catch her breath and resume. It could take me a very long time to reach orgasm even when I was excited for sex. Right then, I just felt used.

Trish had never been one who could cum from intercourse alone, but I could tell that she was trying her best to figure it out, varying her angle of attack and rhythm. She must have found something that worked, because her cries became abruptly louder and higher in pitch. With one final, screaming exhalation, she fell forward into me, her sweat-soaked hair still covering her face. I put my arms around her without thinking, though I was still irritated nearly to the point of disgust.

"That was," she gasped, "amazing."

Her words made me doubt the way I was characterizing what had just happened. Was I being selfish? She had never cared for dirty talk, had made it clear early on in our courtship. It wasn't fair to always be comparing her to Christine. "It's demeaning to women," she had said the first time I tried it. And back then I hadn't had a counter argument to the way she felt.

"Welcome home," I said, caressing her back, and we both laughed. I let my head fall back on the sofa and spotted Christine on the balcony that overlooked the living room. Once she saw that I had spotted her, she quickly turned and moved out of sight.

"We haven't been apart in a while," I said to Trish.

She was idly playing with my chest hair. "Mmm hmm." She leaned back, brushing the hair from her face. "I should get a shower. And I'd like to take you up on that offer of lunch."

I messaged Christine to come downstairs as Trish hit the shower. She appeared a moment later with a laundry basket, handing me clean clothes and picking up those we had discarded. "I'll have your meal ready in about fifteen minutes," she said, all business now.

I caught her arm before she could go. "I'm sorry if I upset you," I said, trying to think of words that might make it better. Christine watched me impassively. "She's my wife and...."

Christine smiled. "I know she's your wife, and I'm not upset." She paused for a moment. "You didn't look like you were enjoying yourself very much, not until it was over."

"It's complicated," I hedged. "With you, things are a lot simpler. I'm not trying to make you jealous."

"I'm not jealous," she said. "My purpose is to serve you."

Whatever she might say, I could sense the conflict within her. She might accept our situation, but I was pretty sure she didn't like it.

Lunch was delicious, as usual. Christine made us carnitas tacos with rice and beans. She had slow-roasted the meat overnight in preparation. The intense heat hit me right from the first bite, and I looked with concern to my wife, but apparently hers were much more mild. She complimented Christine's cooking when she came to bring us drinks.

"So what's this about going back to New York again already?" I asked.

"Well, Craig told me to take a few days to rest and take care of things here, but he wants me to fly out again on Wednesday and stay through the end of the month."

"So almost three weeks?"

Patricia took a sip of her Sangria, looking at it appraisingly as she set it down. "Wow, that's excellent. Yes. Like I said, he wants me to work closely with the team to get the copy and the art just right for our demographics. After that, the process is pretty standard."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I'm not sure why I said it, but something about this whole situation seemed off to me.

Patricia's brow furrowed and her nostrils flared. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"

I fumbled in my thoughts to salvage the conversation. "It's just that it's a very long time to be away from home."

She scoffed. "You think I can't take care of myself?"

"No, that's not--"

Her voice notched up in heat and volume. "This is my big break, Stephen. I might not get another. I thought you might just be happy and, I don't know, maybe a little grateful with the lengths I'm going to to make sure we have a secure financial future."

I didn't rise to the bait and shout back, though the anger boiling in my veins certainly wanted me to. "Our future is fine. I'm getting more business all the time and--"

"It's your ego, isn't it?" she said, suddenly going from anger to venomous amusement. "You can't stand the thought that soon I'll be making twice what you make."

If she meant to goad me further, she had wildly miscalculated. I laughed. "I love the work I do. I'm almost never stressed out and my clients all thank me right to my face. Can you say the same?"