Three Wives Ch. 01

To my utter amazement Mrs. Johanssen kept her lips around my shaft and continued stroking me into her mouth as I came; it was like she wouldn't let up until I was totally satisfied, and she seemed to swallow most of it.

When I finally finished spurting she kept me in her mouth for a while, sucking me clean. At long last Mrs. Johanssen sat up and leaned back. In a gesture that was both crude yet at the same time strangely lovely she gently wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and said, "I just wanted to do that for the longest time!"

I must have come a lot; her slightly parted lips were visibly splattered with goo, and a line of the shiny thick white stuff was splattered across the side of her cheek. Up until that point I'd never had a woman swallow my cum. It seemed the right thing to do to express some kind of gratitude for this nice service so I leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.

I never had any desire to taste my own cum before but at this stage of the game it seemed like sharing her wet mouthful was the right thing to do. We kissed, my tongue went into her mouth, and the musty taste and smell of my clammy liquid was smeared all over between our lips.

When we finally broke our kiss. I was in some kind of state of disbelief, of course. I just sat there. Mrs. Johanssen reached back down into the cooler on the floor of the truck and said, "You want another cold Coke?"

The two of us just sat there in the front of the truck for a while, enjoying our cold Cokes and looking out at the sunlight coming through the trees by the creek. The front of Mrs. Johanssen's shirt was still unbuttoned low enough to offer a good view of her round tits, encased in the lace-edged cups of her bra, and her hair was a bit disheveled. I'd pulled up my jeans after she'd finished doing me, but my belt was still undone and my fly was wide open. I looked at her and she looked at me and we laughed like a couple of kids over what had gone down, then we kissed again, long, slow and lovingly.

Mrs. Johanssen finally broke the kiss and said, "We'd better get back to the house. It's getting late."

And Mr. Johanssen will be coming home any minute now,I said to myself.

We were halfway back to the house when Mrs. Johanssen said, "We never even got any of that brush cut. Well, at least the afternoon wasn't a total waste of time."

* * *

It was when we got back to the house that things really got weird. Old Mr. Johanssen was puttering around the garage when Mrs. Johanssen and I pulled up in the truck. He was a big guy with a full head of silver-gray hair; must've been in his seventies if he was a day. Despite the warm weather he was wearing some kind workman's coat, and he was kind of bent over as he walked around the garage.

Mrs. Johanssen killed the ignition, put on the parking brake, then climbed out and breezily walked up to her husband and kissed him on the cheek like nothing in the world had ever happened. "Hi,hon!"

"Mmmm," he grunted, "What have you kids been up to?"

I could have died, then and there.

"We were down by the creek. I've got Sean clearing up that underbrush by that stand of birch," she said, all business-as-usual-like.

When Mr. Johanssen glanced over at me, it was like that old movieMoby Dick when the one eye of the whale looks at you and I swear he could read my thoughts.I made out with your wife, I thought.Your wife sucked my cock. She sucked me off until I came in her mouth.

"I'll be getting along, ma'am," I said. Mrs. Johanssen looked at me with this expression on her face and for one panicky split-second I was afraid she was going to ask me to stay for dinner. And dessert.

"Very well, Sean. Tomorrow, then? Same time?"

* * *

Of course I figured our relationship was going to change somewhat, but I was in no way prepared for how much. When I pulled up to the Johanssen place the next day, Mrs. Johanssen didn't even go pretend it was about clearing out the underbrush down by the creek.

"Oh, hi Sean," she said cheerfully as she met me at the door. She was wearing the same kind of shirt again, a man's shirt, unbuttoned just enough to offer a generous view of her bountiful hills. Instead of the khaki trousers, though, this time she had on a tight pair of Capri pants that showed off her nicely turned calves and ankles.

I hadn't figured out yet if what had happened was some kind of a one-time deal or if we were going to take it further. Mrs. Johanssen erased any and all doubts as to the nature of our relationship as she wrapped her arms about me and damn near choked me to death on the kiss she gave me. Then she took my by the hand and led me straight downstairs to the guest bedroom.

It was a bright, sunny room with a big double bed, an adjoining bathroom and wide picture windows that overlooked the pool and a good deal of the property. We kissed again and by now my boner was straining against layers of clothing, poking right onto her pussymound.

Mrs. Johanssen indicated for me to lay on the bed while she pulled the drapes. The room was plunged into darkness and she lay on the bed next to me and we started making out. Our tongues going hard at it while my hands found the buttons on her shirt and went to work undoing them. I put my hand inside her shirt and grasped a handful of tit; she had a pair of really big ones, and her nipples poked right through the thin fabric of her brassiere.

At the same time Mrs. Johanssen was undoing my jeans and as soon as she got past my belt and unzipped my fly she had her hand inside my shorts and was fondling my rod. The palm of her hand felt soft and cool against my hot meat.

And then she was down to her bra and panties, a nice matching black lace set. For an older woman Mrs. Johanssen really had it going on; her legs were long and lean and muscular, she had a nice round ass and a wide pair of hips, her waist narrowed in and she had a flat stomach, as tight as a snare drum. Her black brassiere must have had some kind of steel reinforcement; it had her huge tits jutting out like a shelf, pushing them up with a bursting roundness like a pair of ripe tomatoes.

"Omigod, you're so beautiful," I whispered, running my hands up and down her form in genuine awe.

Mrs. Johanssen smiled at me, then she moved over a bit and leaned down to my midsection and took my length fully into her wet mouth. "Mrs. Johanssen," I whispered, indicating for her to come back up. I figured in the front of the truck we couldn't have taken it much beyond a blowjob, but it was my intention to reciprocate this afternoon, going all the way.

"I want to, Sean. I like sucking your dick." As she said this she was palming my shaft up against her face, licking her tongue up and down my entire length and making it wet. "You know, you've got such a beautiful cock, Sean," she said, stroking it lovingly before taking me in her mouth again.

"Thank you, Mrs. Johanssen," I said, not know anything else to say.

"Mmmmf," was her reply, as her mouth was now full of cock. Then she released me once more, pursing her lips up at the very tip of my penis. "You're welcome." Her tongue came out, darting in the slitted hole on the end of my cock, then around the head as she expertly polished my knob. She opened her mouth again, this time just taking in the head and concentrating her lips and tongue about the rim of my helmet.

"Mrs. Johanssen," I whispered through gritted teeth. I had to fuck her now or never; I couldn't take much more of this pleasurable torture.

She released me and moved back up the bed; I practically ripped her panties off. Looking down I was amazed to see Mrs. Johanssen was practically hairless down there; she wasn't shaved or anything, her pubic hair was simply so fine and thin. As I searched in vain for the clasp on the back of her bra she began laughing. "Here, let me," she said as she demonstrated the first front-clasp brassiere I had ever encountered in my brief career as a cocksman. She sat up, undid the thing and her large breasts burst out, free at last.

Mrs. Johanssen' tits were simply beautiful. I got up on one elbow and held one, nuzzled it and kissed and licked her nipple. They were surprisingly full and firm for an older woman, big and round like a pair of grapefruits. I kissed one, then the other, held them, felt their roundness, their fullness, hefted their weight. "Oh, that feels great," Mrs. Johanssen sighed, as I kissed and sucked her nipples. "That feels s-o-o-o g-o-o-o-d!"

I rolled her over on her back and moved between her legs, the head of my throbbing cock poised right on her slit. I could feel her female heat right on the very tip of my cock. Mrs. Johanssen draped her arms sumptuously about my neck and shoulders in anticipation of her pleasure.

"Uh, do you want me to put something on?" I asked. I was terribly embarrassed and didn't know what to say or do about it, but I remember thinking it was the right adult thing to say, the responsible thing to do, to show some concern about birth control.

"It's okay, Sean," she said simply, "don't you know I'm past the time of my life where I have to worry about having a baby? Go ahead and stick it in." She reached down and parted her labia with a couple of fingers and helped guide my cockhead into her wet pussy.

She was hot, wet, and surprisingly tight! I went slow for a couple of strokes, then sped up the tempo; in and out, in and out of her hot, wet love tunnel. Mrs. Johanssen moved her legs, wrapped them around me, put her arms around my back and held on for dear life.

When I looked up our eyes met and all of a sudden it seemed so unreal, so incredible that we were connected: I was between the legs of Mrs. Johanssen, I was making love to my high school vice-principal! Her hair was all about her face, spread out on the pillow, and her big round tits were pressed flat between us.

She sensed my thoughts somehow. She smiled and pulled me close, almost like a mother to a favorite child, and we kissed long and slow. Then I reached down and held her ass, squeezed my fingers tight into her ample asscheeks as we resumed our lovemaking.

Mrs. Johanssen grabbed my butt, began pushing me up and down in sync with my thrusts; the pressure started building up in the head of my cock and I sped up again. The muscles of Mrs. Johanssen's twat began gripping and clenching about the sides of my cock; my brain melted and my cock began shooting my load of hot cum into her wet pussy.

We lay together in silence afterward, trying to make sense out of it all. I was facing her, she was looking up at the ceiling. Then she turned to look at me and she smiled, gently ran her fingers across my face. "Your cum feels good in my pussy," she said.

It was strangely exciting to hear an older woman use such common and crude terms. We kissed ever so slightly with our lips barely touching, then parting so the very tips of our tongues could tickle and tease.

When I think back about the whole thing, I think this moment captured the very essence of our affair. From my point of view, Mrs. Johanssen represented mature respectability. Making love with her, indulging in the incredible and tantalizing sex we were having, was for me an extraordinary crossover to adult sophistication.

Then we just looked at each other for a little while, studying each other's faces, just getting used to the idea that lovers now. When she trailed her fingertips down my neck, down to feel my chest I put my hand on hers and placed it on my cock so she could feel I was hard again already. Mrs. Johanssen said, "Omigod I forgot how it is with a younger man," but it was time to get moving because Mr. Johanssen would be coming home soon so nothing became of it.

The guest bedroom opened onto the pool area, which was convenient; I was able to scoot out of bed and into my clothes, go right out back and make like I was clipping the hedge or cleaning the pool when Mr. Johanssen pulled up front. Meanwhile Mrs. Johanssen got dressed, straightened the sheets and then went upstairs to greet the old man when he came in.

* * *

And so it went. I'd show up at the Johanssen residence right on time and half the time there was legitimate work to do around the place. Sometimes Mrs. Johanssen would go over my college work with me. But by now I my studies in auto-pilot, which gave us a lot of time for each other. This was good because there was a lot of fucking going on.

My parents play bridge, and it was their turn to host a bridge night. Mr. and Mrs. Johanssen showed up; they were regular bridge players. I made an appearance, did the sociable thing and said hello to the guests, shook everyone's hands and when it got to be the Johanssen's turn to say hello it was weird beyond belief.

My mom announced to everyone that I was working over at the Johanssen's place fixing up whatever needed to be fixed up and doing yard work and cleaning until I got back into college. As she said this Mrs. Johanssen just nodded and smiled like all I was doing was what my mother said, while old Mr. Johanssen gave me a look that could slay an ox.

I just nodded and smiled and made my way to the door, grabbing my coat on the way out, saying I was going to hang out with some friends downtown. I got into my old beater and headed off into the night, not going anywhere in particular and wondering what I would find when I got there. A case of youthful angst, I guess.

* * *

The vibes I was getting off her husband were killing me. Soon after the bridge party episode I broached the subject. We were down by the creek, where it all started. This time we were actually working on clearing that underbrush.

"You really told your husband about us," I said.

"Of course, darling!" To my confused look, she continued, "Don't you know it's impossible for two people to be together for as long as we've been married and not know everything the other is up to."

"Then how . . . . . . what . . ." I stammered, confused.

"When I told him, we weren't doing anything yet. When he brought up his suspicions, I could have honestly denied it, but what was the use? He suspected, and anyway I could see something happening with us."

"So us . . . . . . our thing . . . . . . you planned on it happening, all along?"

"Not exactly. I mean, the thought crossed my mind, sure, but I never imagined that we'd get this far, never mind that it would be going on like this. But why deny it and then later, when and if the thing ever happened, have to go on with false denials? I headed the whole thing off by simply acknowledging what he wanted to believe from the very beginning."

"You're unbelievable." I was totally amazed at this remarkable woman, her forthrightness in dealing with the whole situation.

"It's like this. Mr. Johanssen is an older man, a lot older. You give me something he obviously cannot, and he knows that."

"And he deals with that?"

"Why not? He had his fling, many years ago. A younger girl, a hot spicy young thing, and how could I compete with that? What's good for the goose is good for the gander, it's a simple as that." Her turn of phrase was incredibly apt.

"And so what do I do?"

"Nothing. We continue as we've been doing. You come over. You work. I coach you with your college studies, and when the time is right we make love. Don't you worry about Mr. Johanssen; he's dealing with it just fine. As long we're discreet everything will be fine. After all, he's the one who set the precedent."

And so we carried on. I'd show up at the Johanssen's place and half the time Mrs. Johanssen would set me to work on some kind of bona fide chore. I must have been motivated by pussy because I never worked harder in my life cutting and clearing brush, painting or cleaning out gutters and Mrs. Johanssen knew it; she was getting her money's worth out of me and then some.

We did our share of sex, too, of course.

As we became comfortable with each other we progressed beyond the kind of simple cuddling type of lovemaking to where we were doing it any and every way I could imagine possible. We took showers together; we did it in the shower standing up but I couldn't come that way, even though Mrs. Johanssen did, so she ended up on her knees sucking me off.

We developed a method of doing it where Mrs. Johanssen laid out on her belly in the prone, legs together, with me holding her wrists together above her head with one arm while I fucked her from behind like a madman.

It was almost as if I was raping her ass. At the same time I was fucking her like this I would reach around with my free hand and diddle her clit with my other hand. I don't know which got her off more; the total pervertedness of it all or the intense pressure on both the inside and outside of her pussy. She would writhe and moan beneath me as she came in warm, wet waves.

But we were more than a pair of perverted little fuck monkeys; we were truly lovers. She was older than me, of course, and it was accepted without being said that I was in a transitory stage of my life and that sooner or later I would move on, but in the meantime we were sharing something beautiful; it was that simple. The fact that she was a generation older translated into a sort of mentoring theme to our relationship. Mrs. Johanssen assumed the role of a sort of teacher as she took me by the hand and tutored me in the ways of physical love.

And so we enjoyed the pleasures of each other's naked bodies; in the guest room downstairs, skinny-dipping down by the creek or even in the pool by the house. One memorable afternoon Mrs. Johanssen instructed me on the finer nuances of cunningulus; the art of eating pussy.

"Yes, right there," she was saying, "on my clit. Yes. Lick it."

I dutifully did as I was told, gently lapping up and down on her little love button.

"Do the alphabet."

"Unnggghhh?" I said, which is what 'What?' sounds like when I've got a pussy clamped over my mouth.

"Do the alphabet. On my clit. With your tongue." Her words were coming out in abrupt phrases as her breaths became short. I did as I was told, describing the alphabet on Mrs. Johanssen's clitoris with the tip of my tongue. Up, down and across; A. Straight up, then two 180-degree turns downward; B. I got all the way to the letter O when she said, "That's it. Now suck. Suck my clit. Yes . . ."

I looked up from where my mouth was buried in her crotch to study the look of concentration on Mrs. Johanssen's face. It was fascinating to observe this older woman as she took her pleasure. Reaching down to hold my head in her hands had the effect of forcing her boobs up between her upper arms. As I sucked her clit into my mouth she flung her head back, "THAT'S IT! YES! YESSS!!!! YE-E-E-S-S-S-S-S-S-SSSSSSS!!!"

* * *

Our affair went on for a year and a half, incredibly enough, during which time I completed a second years' worth of college classes, through correspondence courses. Mrs. Johanssen was good to her word; she got me set straight back on the path to academia. My parents were eternally grateful to her when I was able to put in my paperwork and get re-accepted at State. Mrs. Johanssen even came with my parents to see me off at the bus station the day I left for college the second time.

There was a lot of pride that day. The look on my Dad's face was a combination of pride and relief; relief that it looked like his money wasn't squandered and I was actually going to make something of my life. Mom was just bursting with motherly pride, nothing more. And Mrs. Johanssen, who had coached me and rehabilitated me, looked at me with a different sort of loving pride.

I always wondered if my parents ever detected the subtle message of romantic love that passed between the older woman and I. It was difficult to restrain myself from grasping her, pulling her body close against mine and kissing her full on the lips right there in front of my parents and everybody else. To have done so would have totally scandalized our little town, of course. I allowed my hand to go to her hip as my lips grazed her cheek, and was pleasantly surprised as Mrs. Johanssen held my face and whispered in my ear, "Goodbye, Lover. Do great things."