The Merry Widow Ch. 04

Chapter Four

For the next month, we lived very quietly. I would wake up, often, hell, usually, to the feeling of her hands or her mouth as she, as she put it, "woke me with a smile." She was getting VERY good with hands and mouth and it seemed that her favorite position, at least for wakeup, had turned out to be mutual oral, laying on our sides as we pleasured each other.

We would make love, in one fashion or another, and then shower together. She made breakfast and, coffee. We'd eat then and I'd lock her into the belt before I went to school.

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I had 9:00 classes to teach, Tuesday and Thursday I didn't have anything 'til eleven. More important, Monday and Friday I was done at one in the afternoon. That meant we had, effectively, a three-day weekend every week.

We had at least one date night every week. Typically it was Friday, sometimes Saturday, sometimes both. We pretty much always reserved Sunday night for recovery. As the weeks passed, I talked her into wearing things that were more and more, well, sexy. On this night I had her in a halter neck sundress in very bright yellow that looked good on her darkly tanned skin and her very dark hair, dark again with very expensive treatments at her favorite hairdresser. Her breasts were free but I allowed her a pair of french cut panties. With the high-heeled platform sandals, she could pass for 50 without a question and for 40 in a bad light. Well, VERY bad light.

It was a party at the Vet's Corps, and, as always, she drew looks. It was a big crowd and many of the guys had dates. Besides that, our parties had gained a reputation, and more than a few girls showed up looking for a party and, presumably, to get laid.

Of course, since most of the guys there had had her, there was a certain familiarity as we circulated, drawing looks, anger and jealousy, from many of the girls.

I absolutely loved the reaction and kept a hand possessively on her hip.

One of the girls came over at one point and took my arm possessively.

"Come on, honey," she said, "try someone more age-appropriate."

Marie, bless her heart, had learned and gained confidence since we had been a couple. I could see her thinking. And then she stood.

"Hey, everybody," she said, not yelling but loud enough to be heard, "this little girl thinks I'm not," and she looked at the girl whose name I had never caught, "how did you put it, dearie, age-appropriate."

She reached behind her neck and pulled the string that held the halter top up, and let the two triangles of material fall, her sagging breasts on display.

"Come on, honey," she said, looking at the girl, "show us your tits and let the men here decide."

The chant started almost immediately - tits out, tits out, tits out.

She looked, well, I had seen the word "nonplussed" written before, but this was the first time I truly understood it.

She looked nonplussed for a second but then flashed a smile and reached down in the crossed-arms-in-front way women seem to understand from puberty, and peeled her T-shirt off.

"Tits out, tits out, tits out," came the chant again, since she had a bra on.

Marie laughed, and it seemed to me to be a genuine laugh, not forced at all.

"Oh Jesus," she said, "I got out of training bras at 12."

The girl flashed a look of pure hatred and did the double-jointed thing only a woman can pull off and look graceful at it, and unhooked her bra and threw it out to the crowd.

"And you call those tits?" Marie asked, reaching out to touch her small breasts, very small mounds on her chest with small pink nipples, almost boylike.

"These," Marie said, lifting her own breasts, pushing them together until a full 8 inches of cleavage showed, "are tits. Now go find someone who likes girls, David prefers a woman."

Fred, the Vet's Corps Commander, not something we normally paid any attention to, but we needed someone to sign things and he had been elected, called out, "ALL TITS OUT girls," with a grin, "let's see how Marie stacks up against you girls. So far, pretty fucking good."

I was laughing then, and Marie had that shiny-eyed look of good pot mixed with too many beers. She stepped up onto the little stage we had constructed at one end of the great room for when we had the occasional live band or something else that might require a stage, and did a little shimmy.

"Bring 'em up, girls," she said, "let's see what you've got."

"MOVE IT!" Fred called out and started shooing girls toward the stage.

Within about three minutes there were a dozen girls standing on the stage along with Marie. The youngest appeared to be 18, the oldest maybe 22. And honestly, Marie looked very good in that company.

"TITS OUT!" Fred cried and the chant started up again - tits out, tits out, tits out.

Marie lifted hers and did a slow half turn, pointing her nipples out across the room.

The girls looked at each other and then started unbuttoning or pulling off or untying depending on the kind of top. I was surprised that all but two of them has bras.

The chant went up - no bras, no bras, no bras.

Meanwhile, Marie had picked up the rhythm of the background music and was doing a passable hula, hips and breasts moving in a delightful opposition and setting up some truly lovely Hawaiin waves.

Finally, everyone on the stage was topless and, I was happy to note, Marie looked DAMN good up there. She sagged, of course, but her heavy boobs were bigger than any but one girl's, and she seemed to be enjoying herself.

Fred started again. "Jack," he called across the room, "music. Something with a beat please."

I watched as Jack scrolled through a playlist on the TV screen and called up something called "Music to Strip By."

The music started, very brassy, each piece sounding more or less like David Rose's "The Stripper."

"Number One," he called out, pointing out to the girl on the left, "do your stuff."

And she was terrible. First, the girl barely had any boobs at all. Mostly, though, she had no sense of rhythm. It was almost painful to watch.

The second was better. She at least filled her A cup, and her nipples were interesting, very big, very dark. She understood how to pick up the beat but really didn't understand how to use her body to dance.

The third was a cute little butterball all bouncy and bubbly and round and soft. And she was having fun with it. Like many fat girls, she had dimples everywhere. I guessed her a B cup although her belly made them look smaller.

Number four was Marie, and she stole the show. First, she cut the tempo in half so her moves were slow and sensuous rather than bouncy. She did the thing with her hair, her right hand reaching around and brushing hair back from the left side of her head. Our time dancing and making her practice had not been wasted.

Number five was the only girl with boobs to rival Marie's. She was one of those buxom plump brunettes with dusky skin, a round face, and great pillow boobs sagging dramatically of their own weight.

The only other girl I found even remotely interesting was number 8. Lana was one of those perfectly pear-shaped girls that I have always thought were sexy. She was short and very flat-chested, her barely-A-cup breasts tipped by big, very pink nipples. Her waist was only slightly smaller than her bust. But her hips and ass spread into a wonderfully wide shape that made me understand where the word "broad" had come from. I guessed her at 5-foot nuthin' and 32-30-50. I LOVED her look. The fact that it looked like there was not a single hair on her body below her neck only added to her overall image of pure sex appeal.

"Bottoms off now," Fred called.

As the younger girls were kind of milling around, looking at each other, Marie undid the button and zipper at her hip, let the sundress fall, and pushed her panties down too. She turned, ass to the crowd, bent and picked up the clothes drawing a loud string of whistles, and tossed them to me before striking a pose, one of those classic pinup poses with her right arm straight up, her left leg raised, knee bent, and looking over her shoulder at us, well, at me.

The cries of "Yeah Baby," were loud and heartfelt.

The other girls were slow to respond and I knew Marie had won.

She looked womanly, matronly, a woman among girls. Her saggy, fallen breasts, her pot belly, those interesting little scars, the dimples low on her back, and the cellulite dimples on her ass and hips, all set her aside. They made her unique among that group. I thought they made her desirable and, yes, beautiful.

"All right, all right, all right," Fred called, as he mounted the stage, doing a passable Matthew McConaughey impersonation, "the decision is in annndddddd," he drug out the last word dramatically, "it is final."

"NUMBER THREE," he intoned and laid his hands on Lana's shoulders. "No boobs but WHAT an ass."

"NUMBER TWO," he called and laid his hands on Number 5. "Breasts like these cannot be ignored and should always be cherished."

"And the WINNER of the First Annual (and first-ever)," which drew laughter, "Vet's Corps Chick Review," he pointed at Jack and got a drum roll out of the stereo, "THE ABSOLUTELY LOVELY Marie," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

She smiled, did a slow turn, and held her arms out in a silent embrace of everyone there.

"Oh," Fred added, almost as an afterthought exactly as he wanted it to appear, "and by the way, ladies, you can pick up your clothes on the way out."

Marie came down the stage steps, head high, almost regal, and I couldn't help but think what a contrast this was from the way I had to force her to give herself to the Corps that first time.

The music had started and Fred intercepted her on the way to me.

"I claim primosomethingorother," he proclaimed, and led her onto the dance floor.

There was something so damn erotic about it that I couldn't look away. She had both arms around his neck, her body molded to his, while his hand explored up and down her back, finding her shoulders and her ass in turn. The contrast between her nakedness and his being fully clothed made it something out of a well-done porn video.

The girl who had started it all with the "age-appropriate" comment came over and stood in front of me until I met her eyes.

"Yes," I said, looking up at her with my best, imperious, teaching assistant look.

"I just wanted to apologize," she said, an embarrassed smile on her face.

"For what?" I asked, actually looking at her for the first time.

She was cute rather than pretty, in that curly-haired, round-faced, brunette way of a young woman still coming to terms with, well, being a woman rather than a girl. She was clearly an athlete, I guessed either a gymnast or a runner based on the leanness of her body. Her breasts were small and the word "perky" might have been created to describe them. Small nipples and areolas were almost boyish and it would obviously be years before she would fail the fabled "pencil test." Her pubic hair was very dark, you could call it black and no one would argue with you, and straight, lying flat against her mons which was prominent. Her labia were full, making her sex a mere slit. No delicate pink inner lips peeked out. She had nicely flaring hips and good legs. All in all, a girl I would have been all over before I had found Marie.

"I, well," she started and then obviously searched for the right words.

"I insulted your girl, and that was rude and stupid," she finally said.

I was surprised at such an admission from one so young.

"Well thank you," and still her name wouldn't come if I had ever heard it.

"What IS your name?" I asked.

She smiled and said, "I'm Chelsea," and held out her hand.

I grinned and shook it.

"Well, Chelsea," I said, not inviting her to sit, wanting to keep my position of control, "what would you be willing to do to make it up to Marie? That's her name by the way."

"Do?" she asked.

"Yes, sweetcheeks, do," I said.

"I feel bad," she said, "I guess I'd, well, I'd 'DO' anything."

"Well," I said standing, "let's put that to the test."

I patted her on the shoulder and said, "stand right here, and do NOT move."

I looked across the dance floor and spotted Marie, doing a very passable fast dance to some song I didn't recognize. Her breasts were swaying freely and her hips were very active. She looked good and I just watched for several seconds before I approached her.

I laid a hand on her shoulder and smiled at Simon, once again wondering about parents who would name their son Simon Lagree, and said, "you might want to watch this. I think Marie is about to experience something new. Think of it as getting ready if you would like."

He grinned, kissed her, and offered me her hand.

"Now what do you have in mind for me?" she asked as we walked back to where I had left Chelsea.

"A new treat," I said, flashing that Grin I practice in front of a mirror.

"Ooooooooh," she said, giving a shimmy and making her tits make circles as I had taught her.

Back at Chelsea, who was, to give her credit, standing exactly where I had left her.

"Chelsea here," I said, "is sorry she offended you and has offered to do, well, anything to make up for it."

"I see," Marie said.

"On your knees," I said, pointing to Chelsea.

Her eyes got big and she actually said, "what?"

"You're not deaf as well as rude," I said, "on your fucking knees."

"Cute, isn't she," I asked Marie.

She smiled and said, "for one so young."

"Soooooooo," I said, theatrically, aware of the small group that had gathered to watch, "step forward and get your first old-fashioned American blow job."

"Oh my," she said and her grin was predatory.

"Look up," I said and Chelsea looked up.

I took Marie's hand and walked her the two short steps to close the distance to Chelsea.

"Go on," I said, patting Chelsea on the head, "I'm sure you know what to do."

She reached up, slowly at first, and laid her hands on Marie's ass, pulling her forward.

It was interesting to watch. Marie enjoyed oral sex, I knew that, but as far as I knew, this was her first time with a woman. Maybe the first time standing, it wasn't something we had done.

She seemed almost reluctant at first but then as the applause started she accepted what was happening. Her fingers found Chelsea's thick hair and twisted, pulling her harder against her sex.

Her hips were thrusting then, and her head was thrown back in her pleasure.

Her womanscent was heavy in the air.

With a grunt and that soft "aaaaiiiiieeeeeee" sound I recognized, she came, her fingers in Chelsea's hair twisting even more, holding her face where she wanted it.

A second wave took her and a third, drawing more applause.

She released Chelsea finally, pulled her back so her neck was bent painfully and she was looking straight up. Her face was shiny with Marie's release. It dripped from her chin and her hair was slick with it.

By then, the Bukkake had started. She was surrounded by four erect cocks and the sound of zippers was clear. I wondered how many of the other girls would take advantage as I handed Marie her dress.

"Come on toots," I said, making her giggle with my use of that word, "I think you've made your point and I'd like some alone time myself."

She grinned, a grin she had copied from me, and said, "yes, baby, I think I'd like to try one of those old-fashioned American blow jobs administered by a man."

I handed her the sundress and she pouted. "Do I have to?" she asked.

I laughed then and took it back and said, "Hell no."

In the car, I said, "I think I'll have you go in and get a six-pack on the way home."

Her eyes got big but then I said, "no, I don't think you're quite ready for that yet."

She looked at me speculatively and said, "I will, you know."

I laughed and said, "I know, maybe another time."

At the house, we walked hand in hand.

In the front room, I turned her and knelt before her.

I looked up and met her eyes with mine before I slowly moved forward.

She parted her legs and I found her with my mouth. She was already swollen and obviously sensitive the way she started squirming almost immediately.

I used my lips and tongue in that way I knew she enjoyed to bring her along, my hand cupping her slightly oversize, soft ass, holding her to me.

I felt the tension in her body as she got close to her release, and I slowed what I was doing, making it last for both of us.

"Oh Jesus," she sort of hissed, her hands settling on my shoulders, holding me for balance.

This was a first for me too, and I found I liked it. There was something about being on my knees before this woman that I genuinely liked that felt, well, "natural" is an overworked word, but "right" seems, well, right.

I used my palms to spread her cheeks and my fingertips to lightly caress the circle of her anus as my tongue probed and my lips sucked gently, tasting that delicious nectar, salty and oily and wonderful.

I brought her along very slowly then, slowing when I felt the tension of approaching climax, speeding when she relaxed, taking her to the edge and then beyond.

Her entire body was trembling when I finally finished her.

I used my tongue at the end, and she came like a garden hose. I drank her sweet honey and then bowed my head, allowing it to soak my hair, and then looked up and accepted it on my face as she finished.

I squeezed her ass and said, "again."

She groaned, "I can't."

I went back to work with my mouth and she came again, but weakly. She was clearly exhausted, so I held her, my hands holding her to my mouth, but allowed her to finish and then relax.

I had to support her with my hands on her ass as she relaxed so completely. When I felt tension again I stood, kissed her with my slick lips, took her hand, and led her to bed.

I had her sit and pee, wiped her, and then turned down the bed and helped her in.

I went in and brushed my teeth and peed. When I got back to bed she was snoring.

She didn't wake as I took my own pleasure.

It was kind of fun in a weird, necrophilic way.