Today Was Different

Today was different. Today she wasn't going to.

She watched her husband's steel-gray Jaguar pull slowly down the driveway. The summer sunlight glinted off the hubcaps as it backed into the street, reversed, and was gone. She supposed she had better clear away the breakfast dishes. Or maybe she'd take a break and read a magazine. Something to pass the time, anyway.

The decorators were coming at eleven about the new drapes, it occurred to her, so there wasn't much time -- but, she corrected herself, it didn't matter. She didn't need the time, because she wasn't going to do that today.

She looked at the breakfast table and sighed. Maybe she should go out shopping this morning. There was the charitable gala this weekend to think about, and she needed to make a hair appointment as well. She looked at the pictures on the walls, wondering for a moment whether they were leaving squares behind them when the rest of the wallpaper faded.

She didn't look out the window across the street; she wasn't going to. Because he'd be there, damn him. She could complain to the company, maybe. The other landscapers had t-shirts. He was probably supposed to wear one, not haul around bags of mulch shirtless, where any woman couldn't help but - Anyway, it wouldn't matter after this summer, because he'd be going back to college. Probably. She realized with a start that she didn't even know how old he was.

While she was thinking, she had accidentally come to stand next to the window. Her glance happened to turn across the street. Sure enough, he was there, and he was watching back. How does he know? she wondered, as a shudder of what she told herself was fear raced down her spine. He always knows!

He put down his rake and began casually walking across the street.

No, no. Not today. She set her lips into a grim frown of resolve, and hurried towards the door. But not in an excited scurry. A swift walk, rather, full of resolve.

He didn't even knock; instead, he was simply there standing on the front step when she opened the door. That same old smirk was on his face; the one she always felt like slapping clean off it. She drew a breath and hesitated, preparing to deliver the speech she'd rehearsed in her head all morning.

Before she could speak a word, he pushed past her, walking into the house. He smelled of gasoline and cut grass, and the sweat clung to the muscles of his chest like it had been painted there.

"No," she hissed at him. Flustered, she clutched her housecoat together before her in an awkward bunch and glanced around to see if anyone was watching the house. He was already heading for the kitchen to get a drink of water. She slammed the door and stalked after him, her cheeks flushing hotly.

He put down the glass as she came in, and leaned against the dishwasher watching her.

"Who do you think you are?" she hissed again, but he only laughed. Her eyes narrowed. "You can't just come in here like this." The blush setting her face afire seemed to be spreading slowly down her neck. She kept her eyes on his.

"Yeah, I can," he said. He looked her up and down with the same easy grin. Taking a dishtowel, he slowly mopped off his forehead.

"Get out," she protested, coming nearer. Her bare feet padded on the terrazzo floor. "You don't belong here."

"Is that for me?" he said, tossing the dishtowel aside and gesturing at her. Looking down, she realized that her housecoat had fallen open. Under it she wore only a thin blue negligee, slit at the hips. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his blue jeans, smiling.

"No," she snapped. "It's for my husband."

He nodded. "Oh." With an unhurried gait, he crossed the kitchen towards her. She felt filled with anger now, a furnace that warmed her all over. Fingertips, ears, toes... all hot and tingling with indignation. Realizing with sudden shame that her nipples were growing visible under her nightgown, she pulled her housecoat closed again. Furiously, she squeezed her thighs together.

"I can't believe you. You make me sick," she spluttered as he came close. The front of his blue jeans had swelled unmistakably -- the fly forced outwards with a threatening bulge. He doesn't even try hide that he's hard, she thought disgustedly. Young men shouldn't walk around like that.

He didn't say anything. Ignoring her protests, he put his hands on her shoulders and firmly stripped her housecoat down and away, letting it crumple to the floor. She gasped at this liberty. "Stop that!"

"Yeah?" he breathed, leaning close and taking her sheer-clad ass in his strong hands. "Guess you better stop me." She could smell his musk now, unmistakably clinging to him. He leaned forwards, his rough stubble scratching faintly across her cheek, and kissed her neck. She closed her eyes unconsciously as his hot skin pressed to hers, his lips drawing across her collarbone, slowly pressing kisses towards the nape of her neck. His fingers sank into the flesh of her rounded cheeks, kneading shamelessly.

"This is ridiculous," she complained, her eyes still squeezed closed. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to break free. "I can't believe this. I'm old enough to be your mom."

"Guess you're lucky I'm not your son," he smirked, his hands now caressing up her back. One thumb trailed for a moment between her ass cheeks, and she jumped.

"That's disgusting," she spat as he released her, too angry to move. Her whole body was quivering now. She could feel her pussy, treacherous as usual, suddenly sprung to life with eager juices that were already starting to slicken the tops of her thighs, and her nipples were tiny jewels aching to be squeezed. But something else itched with need too. Her knees shaking, she squeezed her cheeks together as tightly as she could, trying to block out the shameful tingling.

He smirked, taking her hands and guiding her down to bend lewdly over the counter, her large rounded ass jutting out humiliatingly. She grunted in protest at the indignity, and spread her legs apart slightly, shaking her hips into a more comfortable position. Her face pressed against the granite countertop, eyes still squeezed shut in rage. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded, as the throbbing fire behind her grew more insistent.

"This," he replied cooly, kneeling down behind her. He slowly drew up the curtain of her skirt, piling it atop the curve of her cheeks. She shuddered at the brush of the material against her blushing ass, and the sudden feel of cool air. Her plump cheeks were parted very slightly, giving a hint of soft, dark hair dampened with her dew. Hot with embarrassment, she tried to squeeze her cheeks together again, to conceal her lust from him, but he simply waited until she tired and the plump globes released. Slowly, they parted once more, exposing her shame.

"Open wide, 'mom'," he smirked, slowly taking her ass cheeks in his hands.

"You son of a bitch," she hissed, trembling.

Even the feel of cool granite against her face could not relieve her skin's humiliated burning as he gently spread her, displaying the delicate pink of her puckered rosebud. It betrayed her, she could feel, throbbing lewdly under his gaze, itching for his touch. She whimpered deep in her throat in shame at being displayed like this -- bent over her own kitchen counter, her negligee gathered around her waist, her ass spread open for this boy. "I don't want this," she managed to pant.

"That's what you said last time," he smirked. And then his tongue was against her -- his face buried between her wide cheeks, his hands gripping tightly to splay her ass open. The contact sent an almost painful shock through her, and she whimpered again. Slowly at first, his tongue whirled and darted around her rosebud, but then pressed in teasingly, circling around and around, slurping and penetrating gently.

"That's so nasty," she breathed, pushing back at him in irritation. "God, you're sick. Why would a man do that?"

"If your tits were big enough to be worth it, I'd be sucking on those instead," he replied, his face muffled by her flesh.

"Fuck you," she retorted icily. Waves of pleasure began pouring through her as her needy asshole was glutted with his lust. He slurped and lapped lewdly, rimming her like a man starving. She bit her lip and wriggled her ass cheeks, trying to pretend that this horrible experience wasn't happening. Bead after bead of lust began to collect in her neatly trimmed hair, dripping down from her pussy. His panting breath came in hot gusts which tickled against her thighs.

Finally he pulled his face free of her ass and let go of her cheeks. Her breath caught in her throat as the overwhelming sensations from her ass dwindled away to a faint glow. Barely sated, her asshole continued to pulse, craving his driving tongue.

"I hope you're satisfied, you sick bastard," she said softly, her eyes still closed. "Going down on my fat old ass like that."

He said nothing, but she heard his pants unzip, and his audible sigh of relief. "If you think you're going to fuck me, you're crazy," she said haltingly.

"Not going to pass this up," he smirked. Arrogantly, he spanked her ass with his thick cock, shaking it into full erection. The slap of hot flesh echoed in the silence.

"I guess you can't stop you," she whispered, arching her back disapprovingly.

He looked over at the kitchen table. The bottle of hand lotion was still there from last time, and he picked it up, beginning to slicken up his cock. She winced at the disgusting sound. "No," he said softly, "I don't think you're going to stop me."

"You're fucked up in the head," she whispered. "You need help. Licking my ass like that and then maha- ha-king me—" She gasped as he suddenly leaned against her, popping his fat cockhead through her yielding asshole. He felt immense inside her, hot and foreign and possessive, lustfully invading the sanctity of her body.

"So I guess you don't want this at all, huh?" he murmured mockingly. He held himself still for a moment, letting her passage squeeze at him eagerly.

"Take it out," she whimpered, wiggling her ass. "It hurts."

He laughed, letting his cock sink deeper into her bowels. "Didn't hurt before," he said.

She mumbled an incoherent retort, lost in the sensation of him feeding inch after throbbing inch up her clinging ass. It stretched her obscenely, driving up deep inside her until she could almost feel it in her stomach, a thick alien shaft pulsing with lust. Then he drew back almost all the way, and began to pump her, driving his swollen length up her unwilling ass again and again.

Not making a sound, she held perfectly still, unable to stop him from satisfying himself in her. His cock slurped and slid in and out of her desperately clinging asshole, stretching and emptying her in a firm, dominating rhythm. His heavy balls slapped firmly against her soft ass.

Finally she spoke, lifting her head to glare back at him. "If my husband were here, he'd kill you," she said hoarsely.

"If your husband were here, he'd probably be watching and jerking off."

"Fuck you," she spat again. Her asshole clenched hungrily around his shaft.

"Doesn't he ever give it to you in the butt? He doesn't know what he's missing."

"Don't talk about my husband," she growled.

"Well, you brought it up." He put both hands on her shoulders now, thrusting hard enough to make her grunt. She felt like her insides were shifting, giving way before his stabbing member, as if her whole body were surrendering to his manhood. She could feel his cock thickening as his pumping grew more excited, more powerful, and closed her eyes again in helpless anger.

"Fuck, your ass is hot," he grunted. She thrust her hips back at him to meet his plunging strokes. "You're the hottest girl I ever fucked."

"You pig," she hissed between clenched teeth. Her clit was throbbing now, and, unable to stop herself, she reached down to rub at it. The moment she touched it, a shameful sensation began deep inside her, echoing back and forth in shuddering waves between her plump clit and her cock-stretched ass. "You should be fucking girls your own age," she said in a strained voice, "not coming here and forcing yourself on me."

"Girls my age aren't slutty enough to take it up the ass like you," he panted, stuffing his cock into her ass with frantic strokes. "You must want it pretty bad."

"No, no," she whimpered, nearly speechless with outrage. "Don't say that..." Her body was quivering now like a plucked harp string, and she flicked again and again at her juice-slickened clit, wriggling her hips to glut her greedy ass on his cock.

"What a whore," he breathed raggedly. "Spreading your fat ass for me to come fuck. Never met a girl who needed it as bad as you. Guess you'd probably go crazy if you didn't get this thing up you every day-"

An explosion tore through her, and she threw back her head and screamed. Again and again she howled, squeezing her throbbing clit between her fingers, frantically thrusting her ass back to engulf his impaling length. The room spun and swam; she fought desperately to keep her grip on the countertop, and still she wailed and came and came and came. Stars erupted behind her tightly-jammed eyelids. Somewhere in the storm she felt the hot, obscene gush of his seed pumping into her guts, and dimly heard him snarling out his own orgasm.

An eternity later, the room came back into focus. There was blood on her lip where she had bitten it, and her knees were trembling and shaking, threatening to buckle. A line of sore spots on her shoulders marked where his fingers had gripped her in his own frenzy. Her throat was hoarse and raw from her cry.

He slowly pulled free, her clinging insides reluctantly yielding up his softening cock, leaving behind a hungry void and a wet warmth.

In silence, he pulled on his jeans. She could barely hear the sound of his zipper over her pounding heartbeat. Finally, he turned to go.

"See you later," he offered over his shoulder. She was too ashamed to reply.

His footsteps disappeared down the hall, and the front door opened and closed.

She stayed bent over the counter for a long time, trying to catch her breath with stinging lungs, her exhausted knees wobbling. His seed was beginning to seep from her swollen, sated ass, a thin cool trickle down her thigh.

That was it, she thought. Never again.