Riders on the Storm

Kody did what he habitually did and paralleled his wife's familiar tactic. He too, stayed still; his eyes closed tightly, his fisted hands insistent at the back of her head. Enjoying his hardness, she looked up just as he looked down.

She had tears in her eyes. The ultimate realist, Kody recognized they were not the consequence of his wife's throat strained to its limits. Hers were tears of regret that she had not vigorously campaigned in Queens and Staten Island; they were tears of hatred for her obnoxious opponent, Patrik Wolff, who snatched victory from the jaws of defeat; there was disgust for the women who intruded into her marriage.

Once he realized her vile emotions were not the result of his selfish shenanigans, Kody did what his wife wanted. Slowly, he withdrew his cock from her lips, and leaning his six-foot frame, he kissed her as he lifted her from her place of humility.

"Mmmmm," he murmured. The low, familiar sound, his signature subtle whimper, brought an inviting smile.

Calpurnia knew his whimper. She had heard it the first night they made love and resented that others knew it too. Putting that out of her mind and appreciating that he was finally hard, she relinquished his scrotum.

Turning away, she parted her cheeks again; she held her breath, fixated on the floor, and waited as he stretched her. "Fuck me," she whispered. "Do it deep. Fuck your little whore, fuck her!"

He hesitated. "Don't stop," she insisted. "Push!" Still, he vacillated.

"Lube, precious," he suggested, his eyes frantically searching the hotel's sterile surroundings. "There's none here, and it'll hurt. I wasn't...I mean, I didn't expect this. It's been a long time and..."

"Hurt?" she repeated. "I'm a woman, Kody. I do things that hurt!" Impatient, she reached back, nosed the tip of his erection into the furrow of her damp pussy, wet it, and guided him back to her waiting anus. "Push!"

"But sweetness," he persisted.

"Don't you get it?" she asserted. "IT NEEDS TO HURT! Push, Kody...now!"

He pressed his cock against her bottom's inviting opening, but his exasperated wife took the initiative and stunned him with a vicious reverse lurch. He was in her, nearly filling the long empty void of her bottom.

Time, for the couple, stood still. Then, with a grunt, Kody pushed further. Calpurnia released a screeching sigh; it was a woman's want, her bitterness, the erotic and bewildering compulsion to feel a man, and the pent-up anger at this man she was more in love with than anyone knew.

Riders on the Storm...................Part 6

"Fuck me," she repeated. "Come in my ass like you used to," she hissed. "I want it! Give it to me!"

"I hear ya, pet," he too timidly consented. "I didn't mean it with those other girls. You know that, right?"

The couple negotiated. Withdrawing half his length, he played his high card and then waited for her to answer before gifting her more. Calpurnia, her eyes blank but open, said nothing.

"Those women were trash," Kody insisted. "You're all I could think about when I was...you know...when I was with those bitches. They were just convenient, that's all. I didn't have...you know...I didn't have real sex with those women. And what I did...I mean, what they did, well, it only happened because you stopped giving yourself to me. I missed you, Cal; you kept me away and..."

"...stop it!" she snorted. Calpurnia pulled her hands away from her buttocks and grasped the barstool to retain her balance. "Deeper," she ordered, changing the subject. "It's not enough! I need more."

Kody did as he was told. But, by then, he was in her as entirely as his ample length allowed. Their bodies had merged, his cock, stretching her anus, his ball sack, a natural appendage of her inviting bowel.

Calpurnia, knowing if only for the moment she had him back, whimpered. For now, their fleeting intimacy filled in the blank space left by her botched election.

Backing off again, Kody was careful to leave the head of his penis just inside. He reached around her. He moved his hands under her blouse and cupped her breasts. Squeezing her nipples through the heavy material of her bra, he felt the tips harden. He smiled, remembering the time he discovered she needed them bitten. He recalled their sweetness. He recalled kissing her, turning her lifeless eyes into shimmering pools of affection.

He was right. With the passing years and word of Kody's dalliances lighting up the scandal sheets, she did what any woman would, withheld affection. She lashed at him, saying, "Don't you ever touch me again, not after those shameful women sucked you off!"

For years, she pushed him away. She found comfort in the arms of Kendra Dillard, her stunning and mysterious Girl Friday. Kendra tried her best to fill the emptiness but succeeded only to the extent that another woman compensated for a man's ravenous skill.

Both women hid their sexuality from their spouses, but eventually, the affair was an open secret. They found favor in a favorite toy, a girthy, ten-inch, curved strap-on dildo with which Kendra vaginally penetrated her superior. To her dismay, however, Calpurnia declined to return the favor, not beyond deep kissing. Instead, playing ice queen, she took everything and yielded nothing.

Kody drove into her again. She gasped again. A knock at the door broke the moment, but the former mayor, despite the couple's compromising position, retained his focus. He calmed his wife by pressing himself into her ass while lightly raking her spine with his fingers.

"Kody," Kendra called from the next room. "I need to see Calpurnia! Fox News is all over me! Staten Island and Queens just announced for Wolff! There's no hiding it, Kody. She needs to concede the race!"

Kody shifted his fingers. Gripping his wife's large areolas, and with Calpurnia still bent over and desperately clutching the back of the stool, he shouted at the door. "It's a bad time, Kendra! She's got a splitting headache, a migraine. She can't be talking to that prick! She'll call him when I'm...um...when we've finished here. That'll be later, not now!"

Calpurnia, trusting his judgment, stayed quiet. Kendra Dillard was smart and did not argue, though she knew Wolff's people would use it as proof of a middle-aged woman's weakness.

Half-heartedly, Kendra returned to her office to phone the Mayor-Elect about postponing the traditional concession.

Kendra cared about Calpurnia. But Kody knew exactly what his wife needed right then because trauma invariably triggered her urge to connect with him. With Kendra dispatched to do their dirty work, the pair rode out the final gusts of the stormy moment in privacy.

Kody released Calpurnia's nipples. Her body went limp. He caressed her ears, the most sensitive part of her body. Her head fell back in the way it does when arousal overtakes her. He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck, first to one side, then, as she tilted in invitation, to the other and back again.

He caressed her wide hips, his hands resting on her shapely buttocks. "Better step out of those," he urged, referencing the half-discarded pantsuit.

Kody fumbling with his toe, tried to propel the unruly garment away. She helped by lifting her foot, and in the moment it took to kick it free, Calpurnia closed her eyes again. She was self-conscious about her weight and had lost a measure of raw, youthful energy. To complicate matters, she knew Kody knew everything about her, including her love affair with Kendra.

"There, there, sweetheart," he whispered. "Don't you worry. Daddy's here to take care of you and that Wolff character too. We'll get him. The boys and I have a plan."

He pushed his cock bullishly, and her rectal walls held him vice-like. Calpurnia's lazy eyes widened, her expression smoothly turning from defeat to regret to passionate revenge. "What are you saying, husband?" She groaned as he pulled back partway. "What kind of a plan? Will I be mayor?"

"Never you mind, Calpurnia," he assured her. He lunged, and she grimaced. "It's an insurance policy, that kind of thing, he grunted. The boys downtown are on it, but right now, you just do what you need to do...this is your moment; it's just for you and me."

"Fuck me, Kody," she squealed, her breath coming in short bursts. "Fuck your girl. Don't hold back," she ordered. "Push!"

A moment more, and with a further, near-violent thrust, he lurched into her. Her eyes widened, and she blinked uncontrollably. To hold her body steady, she let go of the wobbly stool and gripped the edge of the polished mahogany bar. "Deeper," she frantically demanded, shoving her ass at him. "Deeper!"

Kody pushed again and then stopped. "Want it in your pussy, angel?" He asked artlessly. Calpurnia stayed quiet, and Kody listened for her labored breathing as her breasts heaved with excitement.

Sensing more hesitation and without answering, Calpurnia, in frustration, reached down, snatched her panties, bunched them, and shoved them into herself. She moved her broad pelvis forward, though not far enough to where they separated. At just the right place to accommodate his remaining length, she stopped, pushed back at him, and re-established their rhythm.

"No," she commanded. "I want it there. Just do it harder. Fuck your baby girl, Daddy. Fuck her the way she likes it!" Kody asserted himself. His wife liked him in command, controlling her, doing it so she did not have to look at him.

Back when they were dating, she demanded it dirty. She insisted enemas spoiled the moment, that to be satisfying, indiscretion had to be spontaneous. For Calpurnia, anal was an acquired taste. Her cravings turned into an ever-escalating addiction that superseded any desire for vaginal sex, even to the point of delaying Embeth's conception.

Calpurnia attended to her husband's breathing. They understood one another's bodies. Each knew when the other was about to come, and Kody was close. "Give me your man milk, Daddy," she pressed. "Pump it...into my ass. PUMP!"

He emptied into her. As he stiffened, her brain registered spurt after venomous spurt. She grinned that on this awful night, she retained the power to take what was hers.

Listening to his final groans, she pushed back at him. As her engorged anus sucked away his last drops, she let go, and wildly wrenching her head to one side, she revealed her excruciating expression as she ground herself against him and squawked, "She's coming, Daddy...your little girl...she's coming!"

She convulsed, streaked to orgasm, and, just as quickly, subsided to a sigh. He pulled away, and semen gushed from her bowel. It tumbled to the floor in thick droplets from her tight sphincter, its inevitable squish proof she was human.

Calpurnia stood and faced him. Expressionless, she drew her panties from her dripping vagina and, reaching back, used them to wipe her behind before pulling on her pants. The pair collected themselves and, acting like self-conscious teens, silently avoided eye contact as they dressed.

"That was awesome, Cal-Gal," he affectionately remarked.

With the tempest over, Calpurnia turned to leave. Pausing at a full-length mirror near the apartment's exit, their eyes locked in the reflexive glass. He approvingly grinned as she smoothed her tousled hair and fussed with the buttons of her blouse.

She placed a hand on the doorknob and blankly regarded him before departing. With the door left partially open behind her, Calpurnia followed the roar of her chanting well-wishers on the floor of the Garden, there to speak of bright futures and doors left ajar.

The press would insist that her election setback was her greatest disappointment. Those in the know knew better. Though never publicly acknowledged, the election night tryst held the keys to what truly mattered, an out-of-place marriage Calpurnia Van Court shared with a man she loved to hate and hated to love.

♫..♫..♫ˑ........................Girl you gotta love your man...♪♪

♫..♫..♫ˑ........................Take him by the hand...♪♪

♫..♫..♫ˑ.............................Make him understand...♪♪̪̪̪...The Doors

ˠˠ END ˠˠ