Mary's Movie Night Ch. 02: Chicago

The skirt was going nowhere, as it was narrower, even unzipped, than her thighs. I could see a line of darker public hair dawning above the hem of the garment. I could reach my hand in the open back and cup her squared-off chunky ass. Her hand was inside my boxers, measuring my tool, so I squeezed it, feeling the flesh move.

She waggled her hips the other way and the skirt slipped down further. Her dark bush began to rise like a negative sun. I stepped forward and the mountains of her chest and belly blocked the view somewhat. The hips wiggled back and the skirt was descending, as she pushed it with some effort past the immovable boulders of thigh meat. Finally, it crumpled to the floor.

I was now too close to see the view this revealed. But my other hand explored upwards to find a thick pad of fatty mound, covered with a tangled forest of wiry hair. My middle finger found the desired trail, and followed it to find a pair of thick drooling lips guarding a pool of hot juicy arousal. There was a hot stream flowing around the tiniest hard nubbin of pleasure.

I was knee deep in pants and a small rational part of me stood apart here and wondered at it. A week ago, in this very place, I had been a faithful, stolid husband. I had a good job, a mortgage, and a loving (if not particularly amorous) wife. Yet, here I was, by the couch where I had probably impregnated one neighbor, my infidelity illuminating the room in technicolor while fingering my unattractive neighbor and contemplating burying myself in another level of trouble.

Mary seemed to sense my hesitation, the return of guilty thoughts. She took the upper hand and guided me back to the couch. I sat down and began to tell her again that we had to stop. But she was not listening. She was pulling off one shoe, and with it a pants leg. Then the other. She pulled my shirt off over my head. I was trying to tell her what we couldn't do. But she wasn't listening, she was just doing it.

"Shh!" She put her hands to either side of me, on the couch back, the better to hold herself up. She wormed her way closer, her huge thighs around mine. I leaned back against the back of the couch and felt the sheer bulk of her body nestling against me for the first time. My hands naturally reached around to hold her hips and butt. She smiled, the first really genuine smile I'd ever seen on her. She shifted her pelvis and hovered in the air, like a hummingbird over a particularly sweet flower. She hovered her sweet honey pot just upon the tip of my waiting, stiff, and throbbing cock.

"Oh. Oh my." I think I said. I could feel a certain perfect heat welling up from inside her only to drip down onto my engorged tip. I could feel the waiting gap between those thick, luscious lips that wanted to be filled. I felt her settle, nestling, pushing my thickened member down against my body, my tip against that so very small nubbin of pleasure, not quite aligned with the forbidden hole.

Sitting up straight like that, it wasn't possible for her to get me inside her. But I could feel that I was perfectly positioned right underneath her hole. It was like we could both feel the attraction, the glove wanting the hand to be inside it.

We were face-to-face, with her massive thighs drawn up around me, her hands gripping the back of the sofa. I could smell her breath, with a faint tang of white wine.

"Don't you want me, daddy?" she whispered. There was a plaintiveness to her, and again my heart sensed her vulnerability. It sounds crazy, but I wanted to make it alright. I wanted to comfort her. Those dark, close-set eyes didn't seem so hard for just a moment. I explored the feeling of letting my cock find her entrance. I was so close to it.

I realized I needed to respond to her. I needed to tell her I was Susan's man and that we had to stop. That I thought she was a wonderful gal, but that we just couldn't. But the jumble that came out was "you're wonderful..."

Hearing that as desire, she cut me off with a kiss. I tried to turn my head, but she read that as something else as well. She twisted us to the side and I found myself sliding down to lie prone under her on the couch. She kissed me again and this time I gave her some tongue. I felt all of her weight upon me, a solid sort of pleasure. I brought my legs up onto the couch.

She sat back and I felt our nether regions brush together. Her slick wet pussy engulfed my stiff rod. I could see the tip peeking from one end of her meaty gash. Crouching, she slid her moist folds back and forth in a stripper's slide. It was a thing I'd only read about, but here she was, performing it. My hands went to her hips, guiding her. I wasn't in her, but I was getting off on it. Maybe if I came fast, I could avoid further disaster?

Her tits bounced against her chest with each thrust of her hips and then dangled down the slap my chest. She concentrated on each sliding stroke, not going quite far enough for me to enter her, but teasing herself with the possibility. There was no protection anywhere and I was suddenly acutely aware that I might be preparing to seed a second neighbor. The picture of the first such encounter was right there, lighting up the room, in case I had forgotten.

"Mary?"

She didn't pause.

"Mary!" I gasped. I could feel that maybe things were getting close. I didn't want any accidents.

"Oh, daddy!" She leaned down and kissed me. That caused my overexcited cock to pop up slightly. As she started to sit back up, my head caught in her tight wet hole. We both froze.

"Don't do that. Let me be on top, like a man should," I promised, only halfway hoping the pause would be a true reprieve. But it was too late. She was unexpectedly small inside, but she was so very wet that I was already all the way in her, buried deep, as far as it was possible for me to go. Her piggish nostrils flared as my hands grabbed her hips. Instinct took over and I pressed deep, grinding back against her.

"Mmm, we're joined as man and woman. Make me yours, daddy! Please! Promise me." Almost angrily, I used my grip on her pelvis to make four hard quick strokes inside her, grinding her clit against my pubic bone and making us both moan.

Then she pulled off and, leading me by the hand, drew me back into her house, up the stairs and to her bed. I went meekly, her juice dripping off the end of my engorged prick. The angry lust of a moment ago was out of me, but I was certain at this point that we were going to finish what we had started.

Her bed was filthy and unmade and she sprawled out flat on her back in the middle of it. I crawled up between her ponderous thighs and contemplated the sight before me. Each thigh was probably as thick as Belle's body. She drew them up, opening her slit to me. The slot between her thighs was thatched all around with blondish hair and there were purplish lips jutting from the edge. I moved up to cover her, positioning my head between them, waiting to enter her. Her tits sat askew, flopping across her chest, as she panted out, "yes, daddy, I'm ready. Don't worry, it's safe today. I just want you inside me. Don't stop daddy, don't stop..."

Using my hand, I teased her by moving my cock up and down beside her opening. The sounds of her wetness slurping with each pass were intoxicating. I could smell her yeasty cream and her acrid body odor as I positioned again outside her waiting hole. Then, looking into her eyes, I entered her hard and fast. She was tight and hot. Not vicelike, as Belle had been. Not soft and welcoming as I remembered Susan being.

The massive thighs embraced my hips. I began to stroke in and out. Each push deep made Mary grunt. Soon her tits flying back and forth, obscenely snapping to a stop around her jawline, then tumbling back down. I could feel the quiver of each thrust pass wavelike through her thighs. I could hear a droning sound leaking from her lips. She was building up. She was going to erupt in orgasm. Her hands flapped uncontrolled, alternately trying to grab my butt and clench the sodden sheets. Her back arched. She was going to have a big one.

Dimly, from far away, I too got the feeling that things were coming to a head. I was swelling bigger and my balls tightening. It wasn't the familiar itch I would get when I was close. It was something else, huge and undeniable.

She came first, screaming out her climax, eyes twitching. A huge volume of hot fluid sprayed out of her. I could feel the flood soaking my balls and drenching the sheets. As she came down from this peak she started to look into my eyes again. I saw her awareness, a dark intelligence, as my control slipped and was washed away by her emissions. I felt her thighs holding me in, her arms welcoming me, her body adjusting to take me and cradle me perfectly as I filled her up in a long steady unending gush of seed.

She hummed a few words from the movie we'd watched: "Come on, babe, we're gonna brush the sky. I betcha Lucky Lindy never flew so high.." as I pulsated over and over.

I laid there a long while before, eventually, slowing pulling out. We held each other for a short while before she said, "you'd better go. You'll be missed."

Somehow I found clothes and drew them on. The missing button from my pants I couldn't find. Stepping into the darkness outside, I started my walk of shame towards home. I reeked of sex, I was certain. But Susan was sleeping quietly, behind her wall of pillows, and nothing was said in the morning, when I arose from a deathlike sleep.

There was an email from Mary to both Susan and I in my inbox. My heart skipped three beats to see it pop up. But it said simply, "your turn to choose the movie next week. What'll it be?"

My head was spinning as I pondered my choices.

I the back of my mind I could hear Catherine Zeta-Jones's voice: "I come back, open the door, and there's Veronica and Charlie doing number 17, the spread-eagle. Well, I was in such a state of shock that I completely blacked out; I can't remember a thing. It wasn't until later, when I was washing the blood off my hands, I even knew they were dead."

Perhaps I was already doing number 17.