Women I Have Known: 11 Marge

Two thousand two hundred eighty-nine words, nine minutes.

Marge was going to Europe for the summer, and I was to care for her parrot, named, 'Pussy.' The parrot was not used to being loose in the house when Marge was not home, so when I would arrive to feed it, I should expect it would screech and holler a jillion swear words as long as it thought I could hear because it wanted out.

The first evening when I arrived to care for it, I found that Pussy had been loose for at least a couple of days, and the house was nearly destroyed. I guessed that Pussy figured out how to slip the bolt on her cage door.

The kitchen curtains were torn and stained. One curtain rod was pulled from the wall on one end. The shower curtain had streaked bird shit down both sides, and the bar of soap on the vanity looked like a shotgun target with pecked holes and tears. The fruit bowl was broken on the floor, and fruit debris was smeared and partially eaten.

Toilet paper was shredded and scattered throughout the upstairs. Nearly all the potted plants had been tipped over, while some were broken on the floor. The safe was open. Wait. The parrot opened the safe? I don't think so, and neither did the cops.

I called Marge, the parrot's owner, and she said she would contact the police, insurance people, and her son, and then told me I was done and that her son could handle repairs.

A few days later, I learned that the house had been broken into through a cellar window, and the safe was cleaned out. The bird was released, and the crook was caught at the pawn shop in Las Vegas attempting to sell Marge's coin collection.

Marge had returned, interrupting her scheduled time away, and through the police, her son and a neighbor figured out that a friend of her son had pulled the heist and was actually hiding in the house when Marge caught the taxi to the airport.

She had cleaned and fed the parrot the last thing before she left, so I was to go over every other day to feed and clean up after the parrot. So the robber had almost two days to pull off the robbery and clean out her house. The parrot most likely attacked the thief as soon as she released it, as the parrot was not friendly with most people.

Marge said later she thought the parrot had made the thief pay for the crime the entire time since the parrot would have been screeching and swearing at her the entire time Pussy was locked in the cage. The thief had to leave almost immediately when the parrot was freed because Pussy was fearless once released from the cage.

Two weeks later, Marge called and invited me to meet her at 'The Office Lounge' on Northern Lights Blvd for an after-work cocktail. She was sitting at the bar beside the waitress station when I arrived. I sidled onto the next stool, squeezed her, pecked her cheek in greeting, and ordered us a drink.

The drinks went down smoothly, and Marge admitted that she had a motive for dragging me to a bar. She kept reordering drinks until we both felt no pain and had become immersed in a conversation about Miss (Grace) Trodick. Marge admitted that she had called me to parrot-sit because she had pumped Grace, who said she had a 'Stud' in her life, and then admitted who and told Marge so many details that Marge looked me up.

I had been friends with her son on the social scene in town, and he later admitted that he turned her down for the parrot's care because he couldn't stand her screaming parrot.

When Marge mentioned my name, her son said I would be perfect for watching the bird because I was such a 'loner.' The kids at school had been friendly but judgmental, and that was his story, which worked well for Marge to ask me to parrot sit and to introduce herself, thinking I was a 'Stud.'

Grace had gone on about how I was secretive and that I had kept their relationship an absolute secret and could be trusted. Marge took all of the information from Grace and cogitated about calling me but her horniness finally called me.

"Are you Dale?"

"Yes. Who are you?" I replied to the telephone receiver, not recognizing the voice.

"My name is Marge, a friend of Grace, who told me you were dependable and that you might be interested in making a little money for watching my parrot."

"I am interested."

"Dale, why don't you come to see what I have to offer and see if you can do the job for me."

We made an appointment for late that evening. When I went over later that evening, Marge had made a lemon meringue pie, so we visited while eating. Everything seemed normal until Marge said, "I was going to take a sauna this evening. Do you want to join me? I am enjoying visiting with you, and we can continue in the sauna."

I was surprised because Marge had not implied anything more than the parrot care, and I felt like she had asked me on the spur of the moment without thinking about it in advance. The truth I learned was that Marge had plotted to get me naked so she could at least see what Grace had been enjoying in her bed.

Not being dumb, I immediately knew Marge had an ulterior motive, and she was a stone-cold fox. I was about half erect just sitting and watching her eat that pie in the most suggestive chewing, inserting the fork in her mouth, and moaning with the flavor. (She was knowingly teasing me.)

We were sitting at the breakfast bar on tall stools. As we finished the pie, she swept her finger through the crumbs and licked her finger after sucking on it obscenely. Marge moaned, squirmed a little, and said, "Wanna taste?"

"Excuse me? What?"

I have a delightful finger full of pie. Do you want to taste?"

"Yeah, sounds interesting."

Marge swept her fingers across my plate, gathered a big gob of leftover lemon filling, and started it toward my mouth when the glob fell onto the zipper placket of my pants. She looked at me with a sheepish grin on her face; I took the chance to test her intentions and asked, "Do you want to lick it off?"

Marge looked me in the eye as I placed my hand behind her head and gently pressed her down off of her stool. I released her when she began to bend over my crotch. She licked it off as she undid my belt and pants button and then stood, removed her apron, and kissed me wetly. I was surprised by how fast she had my pants undone.

Standing up, I pushed my pants and underwear to my shoes and climbed back on the stool, where she grabbed my cock and began to suck and lick it.

Gobbling my cock, she pulled away, saying, "Come with me, Dale."

She turned and pulled her top over her head as she started to walk away. I noticed she didn't have a bra strap across her back. I kicked my shoes and pants off; and followed her with my cock rigid and swinging, pointing at her chandelier as I walked toward the hall where she had disappeared. I had come oozing, so rather than leave a trail of come on the floor, I started wiping my cock and licking my fingers.

I entered her bedroom and noticed the iron rings and eyebolts beside and above the bed. She had bent over to remove her socks and displayed her bare ass and protruding vaginal lips between her legs, so I slid two fingers up her vaginal crease and bumped into and held onto her clitoris. She attempted to move away at first as my fingers picked her clit, but when she felt how good it felt, she relaxed onto my fingers.

She turned to look over her shoulder and said, "Do you like what you see?"

I replied, "I love what I see. What pleases you the most? Oral? Penetration? Or foreplay?"

When she didn't reply, I said, "No complaining if you don't tell me what you want. However, I am ready to do whatever makes you the happiest."

She replied, "Just do it!"

No further encouragement was needed, as I could fist her vagina without a struggle, lube, or even gentle probing. She squirmed around and said, "Let's go over to the bed."

We laid on the bed, her ass in the air, my wrist deep in her cunt, and her mouth blazing on my cock.

Sex with Marge was interesting, She mostly wanted ass play, and I wasn't as interested in that as I was the wrist in the pussy idea. I was hard, dripping, and ready to come when she asked, "Will you fuck me now?"

Removing my wrist and hand, I expected her pussy to be sloppy and huge. I didn't expect to feel snug as a bug in a rug or anything near that, but I was surprised to learn that the fisting didn't remove the friction of her pussy on my cock.

When she offered me her pussy, I decided to taste her since I could smell her as we played. The astringent-like taste differed from my experience, so I relished the uniqueness. I was steadily dripping come and was very hard. She said she wanted to ride me like a jockey on a horse. I wanted to continue eating her pussy. We settled on sixty-nine, with her on top. As I became more aroused, it was inevitable for me to come. I warned her, and she swallowed my cock to the pubic hair as I filled her throat and mouth with warm slime.

Laying beside her, she said, "Let's look at my video?"

"Okay," as she rolled off the bed, opened the nightstand drawer, pulled a remote out, and started the TV at the foot of the bed.

Getting post-coital sleepy, I expected to go to sleep.

Nope.

The video was Marge and me from just a few minutes ago!

We were obviously not video stars. Marge's muffin top and saggy tits, my tiny ass, larger than average cock, and not being handsome made for a true homemade porn video. It was about seven minutes long, and by the time it ended, Marge had me hard again.

"Fuck my ass, Dale."

When I started to enter her tightened, puckered opening, she screamed so harshly that I refused to try again. Instead, we went back to sleep, cuddled together and warm.

Inevitably we woke, fondled, and played. Marge told me about her ex-husbands and how her son didn't know that one ex was a cat burglar and had been nearly killed when he was shot in a woman's bedroom wearing a black vinyl suit.

The woman shot him three times, firing five times. She blew his right hand off; his right knee was now locked in an extended straight position, and part of the right side of his mouth and cheek was gone.

The woman no longer lived in the same town, but rumors still circulated among the women in town that the shooter had been fucking him, and they had a fight when she tried to kill him. The rumor mill said she had killed a prior husband, but the law didn't prove it because a body never showed up.

Marge was all fired up again, so I managed to satisfy her orally for a long while, and then she again wanted to be a cowgirl.

"Dale, I will ride you until the end of my orgasms. Then I want you to eat me, and I want you to then fuck me as long as you can without coming. I once was impaled by a man for ninety-seven minutes. When he came, he forced his cock deep into my vagina and seemed to piss his come into me. I didn't feel him pulsing, jerking, throbbing, or coming."

"He did because afterward, his come drained out of me in a steady stream. My vagina was numb for two whole days. I was beginning to be concerned when feeling finally returned. The absence of feeling was weird. I wonder if you can fuck me long enough to make me numb again?"

Marge got out of bed, moved her VHS Camera, returned to bed, and then we fucked cowgirl. She got up onto her feet beside my hips, impaled herself on me, and, dragging her nipples along my chest, began to ride me and swing her hips forward and back in an increasingly fast cycle. I felt like a dildo because I wasn't involved as Marge worked at her orgasms. She stopped, squatted beside me, and licked her come, ooze and sweat from my cock, balls, and pubic hair. She remounted me and then fucked me until she fell asleep on my chest, with her pussy sliming my abs as she relaxed and the fluids slid from her swollen, inflamed labia. I was still hard and was long ago ready to come in her.

I recalled that her son was due home early in the morning when he got off work, so I slid away from her bed, got dressed, and left the house through the back door. When I drove past the front of Marge's house, I saw her son arrive home, so our secret was safe.