Madonna Ch. 04

Chapter Four

I was still up to my elbows in a big Peerless transmission when Beau, one of the mechanics, said, "Damn Dave, are you trying to starve us to death?"

I glanced up at the clock and laughed.

"LUNCH!" I yelled, and cleaned greasy hands with GoJo, and headed for my standing lunch date.

She met me in the doorway this time, naked, and threw her arms around my neck and kissed me right there. I think she was kind of hoping someone would see.

In the kitchen, she had two lunches laid out. This time she had cooked, well, had warmed up anyway, chicken and mashed potatoes and corn. I suspected Colonel Sanders had been the chef, but I didn't say anything.

As we ate, the country music on her radio a soft background, she would break into a spontaneous giggle from time to time. The third time, I said, "what?"

She smiled at me and said, "I'm just thinking of how much you've changed me."

I chuckled at that. "I think I just figured out what you wanted," I said.

"Maybe," she said, looking thoughtful, "maybe I wanted to change. But I sure have."

She met my eyes and giggled again.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh, just wondering," she said, that giggle in her voice, "how you'll react to what I want today."

"Well," I said, chewing and meeting her eyes, "what is it?"

"Oh no," she said, a big grin on her face now, "not until we've eaten."

So I shut up and finished lunch.

We did dishes, companionably, and then she turned to me, very serious.

"Make me a whore, David," she said, "let me get on my knees and give you a blow job," and she giggled at that, "that's what you call it, right?"

"Yes," I said.

"And when I've satisfied you," she went on, "just toss some money on the table, whatever you think I'm worth, and walk out."

It was my turn to grin.

"I can do that," I said.

She dropped to her knees, strangely gracefully making me wonder if she had been practicing it, and started on my belt. Her hands were trembling, but I didn't help. I figured if she wanted to be a whore, this was a pretty basic skill to use.

She finally got the belt undone, and the button, and got me unzipped and pulled my pants down just past my ass. Just enough for the business she wanted to transact.

She smiled up at me and opened her mouth, reached up, and pulled out her upper plate, and laid it on the table. Then the lower. She smiled again, her face changed completely without teeth, her lips collapsing in that way of the toothless. She grinned and pink gums showed before she took me into her mouth.

As blowjobs go, it was mediocre. She was obviously not very experienced, but she was certainly trying. Her gag reflex was very sensitive, and there were several times I thought she was going to throw up. But she made it through, and she did understand my tells and slowed down as I got close, making it linger.

As I say, an average blowjob, but she demonstrated talent and with practice I figured she could get very good.

As I started to cum she jerked back, holding my erection in her hand, pointing it at herself. My semen spurted onto her forehead and into her hair, the second pump drawing a thick white line across the bridge of her nose, and the third a thick white glob, covering her lips and hanging like a string from her chin.

I smiled down at her, patted her head, said, "whores shouldn't wash their faces after something like that. Think of it as advertising."

I pulled up my pants, took out my wallet, dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table, and left her there, on her knees in the kitchen, her face a mess, but smiling.

"Oh shit," Bonnie said, when I told her about the day's encounter, "David, I HAVE to meet this woman."

I grinned. "I think she's ready," I said, "maybe a double date Friday night?"

She giggled and said, "yes, please," as she dropped to her knees, obviously intent on demonstrating that she was better than Madonna.

I chuckled and said, "you don't have to prove anything."

She laughed and said, "I know, but you know what they say."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life," she said with a giggle and got back to work on my belt.

As blowjobs go, this was excellent. The fact that it was my second in about 8 hours helped, but mostly it was my bride's technique. She brought me along slowly, taking me to the edge and then allowing a little rest so she could take me farther yet. My wife is a true artist with her mouth and tongue, and she kept me going until I was a shuddering, trembling wreck.

Like Madonna, she pulled off and accepted my ejaculate on her face and in her hair, adding a final suction, right on the tip, drawing out the last tiny drops.

She finished making dinner like that, and I enjoyed watching her.

"Let's take her to dinner," she said over her shoulder, finishing the spaghetti sauce she was working on, "and then bring her home. Make sure she understands it's for the weekend."

"You're really looking forward to this, aren't you," I said.

"Of course I am," she said, giggling, "and you're looking forward to seeing us together. You know you are you pervert."

I laughed. You know I am.

Thursday I took Madonna doggie fashion, her on hands and knees, me from behind. I had her going "woof, woof, woof" with each thrust, and when she came it was wet and loud. I hadn't cum, though, and I held her skinny hips, not releasing her.

When she had her breathing back under control I leaned forward, still deep within her, making her carry more and more of my weight.

When she finally collapsed I pulled out and used my hands to spread the skinny cheeks of her ass wide. I guided myself until my glans touched the tiny opening of her anus.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"Please, no," she said so I guided myself a little lower and entered her vaginally again, quickly finishing.

"I love this so much it scares me," she said.

I pulled out and moved around to nuzzle her tit, that long thin nipple fitting nicely in my mouth.

"I won't be here tomorrow for lunch," I said after we had both calmed down.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked, a tear suddenly falling from her right eye.

I laughed.

"No, Madonna," I said, smiling and then kissing her, "I'm taking you to dinner, and then we're going to spend a weekend together."

Her eyes got big.

"What about your wife?" she asked.

I flashed The Grin and said, "You let me worry about her."

At home that night, after dinner, Bonnie and I plotted Madonna's new life.

"She said 'no?'" Bonnie said when I told her about trying to get Madonna to try anal.

"Yep," I said with a chuckle, "she seems to think it's icky."

"Wellllllllll," she said, "I'll have to teach her."

She rolled over and got the tube of vaseline we kept in the nightstand and squeezed out a healthy line in her palm, and then began lubricating my cock, bringing me almost instantly erect.

Then she rolled over onto her belly, moved her knees forward so her big ass was straight up, her back arched, and her face in the pillow. She reached back and spread her cheeks. "All yours baby," she said, into the pillow but to me too, "but you'll have to work for it."

As I moved behind her, chuckling, she squeezed her ass and I could see the tension as she clenched her big muscles back there.

It's a big ass and we both enjoy it. I slapped it hard enough to make her yelp and leave a red handprint, but she held the tension.

I put one hand on each cheek and started pressing. She held her tension for quite a while, I didn't exactly put a stopwatch on it, but I just kept leaning, letting gravity and my weight do the work.

She gave up in stages, trying to squeeze back but I kept my weight on and she weakened.

I LOVE anal sex with my wife. First, there's the look. Her big ass, her cheeks spread, that very smooth circle of skin with that puckered opening that she liked to hold shut as I tried to take her. It made a distinct round ridge. When I guided my glans to touch it, it was very hard too.

But she had me very slick.

I had to push hard and she fought it but in the end, I suddenly entered her, all the way, in one sudden thrust, making her gasp and her fingers dig into the mattress.

Now that I was inside I released her ass and reached up to her shoulders. I hooked my fingers and drug them down her back, deliberately scratching, not drawing blood, but leaving eight parallel red lines that turned white as I watched. Her fingers scrabbled at the mattress and she made a soft "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" sound. I did that three more times, once more vertically and twice horizontally, leaving her back looking like a couple of dozen tic-tac-toe games were ready to be played.

She made that same, soft, "ahhhhhhhhhhhhh" sound with each one.

"Say it," I said, my fingers digging into the soft saddlebags at her hips.

"I love it," she said, into the pillow.

"Say it all," I said, digging deeper, pulling a groan out of her.

"I LOVE IT!" she said, "I love it when you fuck me up the ass."

I chuckled and patted the ass under discussion and began a rhythm, taking my pleasure.

But giving her pleasure too. Soon her hips were matching my movements, she was pushing back, taking my entire length. "Yes," she was groaning, with each thrust, and when she came she wet the inside of her thighs.

I pulled out after she came and she squirmed around and took me in her mouth, doing double duty, cleaning, and finishing me.

She's a good girl.

I kissed her when she squirmed back around to share my pillow while we talked.

"How can any woman," she said, still a little breathless, "not enjoy that?"

I chuckled and patted her hip. "Dunno," I said.

We laid our plans then, for what should prove to be a good weekend.