9781618856357HavingItAllStorm

by Troy Storm

  “But you think if a bunch of you were put together in one room…”

  “Yeah. It’d be hell at first. You know how high school kids are. But if there was somebody like Mr. Parks in charge. Somebody who could really talk about stuff to us. Who could really give us maybe some answers.”

  “You think the guys would listen to Chad? Mr. Parks?”

  “Sure. He’s a good guy. I hate his guts, but he’s a good guy.”

  Syble looked shocked.

  “He’s always ragging me about my weight.” Andy shrugged. “But guys like him have better genes than guys like me.”

  “He was overweight like you, too.”

  Andy stared at her. “He never told us that.”

  “That’s why he constantly works out. He says he has to. Sometimes when we’re up in the stacks, he’s doing push-up while I’m looking through books. He says it’s important for him to be a good role model.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “See, Andy, as smart and perceptive as you are, you still can learn things, too.”

  He shoved a couple of books into place. “You guys need a place to work. I’ve finished here. Okay if I go look around?”

  “Of course.”

  An hour later, he returned, flushed and pleased. “You wanna see what I’ve done?”

  He had found a worktable and a couple of chairs and had put them in an alcove near where the librarian and the assistant coach usually met in the closed stacks, and had enclosed the area with a folding screen.

  “Andy, that’s awesome.” Syble knew what the table would be used for as soon as Chad saw it. “It’s a perfect place to study, privately. You might want to use it yourself sometimes.”

  “Could I? Could I bring my laptop up here? That would be cool.”

  “And I see you’ve left enough room for Chad to do push-ups.”

  He grinned and shrugged.

  “You might come up here and work out a little yourself on your breaks. That smart mind of yours in a smart body, right? Nobody to pressure you. One step at a time. You might turn into a pretty good role model yourself.”

  Andy laughed. “As if!” But she could see she had made her point.

  * * * *

  “Do you know what your guys think of you?” Syble dug the soupspoon deeper into the carton of frozen yogurt.

  She and Chad were lounging around naked in her kitchen. They had had sex on the breakfast table earlier, both clothed, when he had dashed in late, full of himself from a very pumped up nighttime soccer team practice. She had then told him about Andy’s contribution to their prospective sex lesson plan.

  He wanted to try the table thing out, right away, he had said, sexily advancing, slowly unzipping his jeans, before dealing with the worktable in the library stacks.

  Doing it on the breakfast table had worked fine, except she was concerned about possible bruises from the hard surface that might worry Stephen, which is why they were both now naked. Chad had examined her thoroughly, and she had reciprocated, leading to another bout in the middle of the kitchen floor on a very underused yoga mat, which had worked even better, and which Syble then planned to be sure to take to the library.

  “I don't give a shit what ‘my guys’ think of me,” Chad said, somewhat belligerently, leaning against the refrigerator in answer to her question, between gnaws on a cold chicken leg. It was somewhat disconcertingly the same color as the smooth foreskin of his now-flaccid dick, and, even more disconcertingly, almost the exact pebbled texture of his tight nut sack tucked firmly underneath.

  In further answer to her raised eyebrow, once she had pulled her gaze from his crotch, he replied, “Sure, I want ’em to like me so they’ll do what I tell ’em to do. But I’m not looking for teenaged adulation. They can give that to the coach. Which is fine with me. So far, the kids and me haven’t killed each other. Why should I care about what they think of me?”

  “I’m beginning to feel this could be pretty important, what we’re doing.”

  “Damn right, it’s pretty important.” He moved to her and clamped his greasy lips to her mouth as he ground his quickly re-filling organ into her crotch.

  “I mean the sex thing.”

  “So do I.” Talk about mantras. He bent his knees and worked his hips to aim himself at the plush, open lips of her pussy, as he continued sexily gnawing on the chicken leg.

  She ignored his speech, but not his positioning. “Wouldn’t it be great if we could really do some good?” Rising on her toes, she arched her hips and opened her thighs—ah, those lovely ballet lessons from so long ago. Open up those thighs! Turn out! Open! Open!

  He slipped inside easily. Neither of them slowed their snacking. Chad began fucking her slowly…like dessert.

  “Y’know we’re gonna be shot down by the school board.” He tore a bite of chicken off with his big, white teeth, his heavy-lidded blues sucking her in, as she sucked him in below.

  “We’ll have a carton of smelling salts ready for their reaction to our suggestions. And if the whole thing is really…well…thought…out…” She met his thrusts with her own, the liquids from their earlier table time making a thick, wet slurping sound. “If it’s a really good lesson plan, we can maybe even threaten to take it to the parents themselves at a town hall meeting. We haven’t had one of those in years!”

  “You’re really getting carried away,” Chad muttered. His mind was obviously more occupied with the actuality of their present sex act than the probably doomed-to-failure discussions of possible teenage ones and the possible consequences thereof. “I like that.” He fucked her harder.

  “Yea-uh.” Her pink tongue slid firmly over a spoonful of frozen yogurt. “A demonstration on the stage of the school auditorium in front of the whole village, showing how to properly responsibly appreciate your partner.”

  “Yes!”

  “I hear the guys just lean back while the girls blow them.”

  “Yes!”

  “Chad, you’re eating the chicken bone.”

  “Yes! Dammit! Yes!”

  “Stephen will be so proud of us…”

  “What the fuck.”

  “Doing something really worthwhile for the kids. Maybe he could help somehow. He feels so utterly helpless these—”

  “You’re talking about your husband! While I’m screwing you?”

  “Oh…right. I’m, I wasn’t really thinking about him…not while… It just popped out.”

  “Well, I’m about to pop out, too.” Chad looked down, glumly, at his less than at-its-best. “Dammit!” He bit the chicken bone in half, spitting and lobbing the pieces into the sink. “Dammit!” Grabbing Syble’s hips he pulled her solidly against him, trying to keep his semi-soft stuffed inside.

  “Hold on,” she said, pushing his hands to her bottom. Grabbing him around the neck, she swung her legs up to lock around his waist. The angle of their hips glued them together. Almost immediately he began to stiffen.

  He started to put her down on the hardwood floor. The yoga mat was across the room.

  “The den is carpeted.” She pushed her breasts against his chest. “You think you can carry me twenty feet?”

  “Do you and dear old Stephen ever do it on the den floor?”

  “No.”

  “Yeah! Virgin territory. Babe, I could carry you around the block, if I had to.”

  They both started to laugh. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about what the neighbors might be thinking.

  He easily carried her into the den and gently laid her down, and was instantly back to where he had left off—maybe with even more determination to empty himself inside her, to pump her full of himself as quickly as possible. To claim her. To wipe out any thought of dear old Stephen.

  Syble gave herself. He was driving headlong toward the finish line. He deserved it. She had made him work hard enough that evening. And it gave her a moment to think…though she was quickly losing her focus.

  Strange that she had thought of her husband just a
t that moment, and the neighbors, and the high school kids. To think that Stephen would be pleased with what they were trying to do for the kids and that the neighbors would be appalled at the idea of bringing teenage sex into the open and that the kids themselves would probably think it cool.

  She wasn’t at all sure what she herself thought. Her quiet, librarian life as a long-suffering, neglected wife had suddenly turned into a wild roller-coaster ride with a lot of screaming teenagers.

  But it seemed okay.

  So far.

  Then came the weekend.

  Chapter Three

  Even near forty, five years older than she was, fifteen years older than Chad, going through the inevitable, inexorable meltdown of the career he had been slowly and passionately building for years—he was still a force to be reckoned with.

  His hair was beginning to gray at the temples and his body was softer than it had been ten years ago, softer than it usually was even now. He had slowly given up the fight. The career he had worked so hard for was dissolving in his desperate grip. The prospect of having to face a new start!

  The tears came in a rush, unbidden and unexpected.

  “Syb, what is it? Did I hurt you? Damn, when I haven’t seen you for so long…” Stephen’s anxious voice, a deep bass viol, underscored her quiet sobs and grounded her, even as her tears became a contented melody dancing on top of the full orchestral underscoring. The man she had married for better and for worse was back where he belonged. In her bed.

  The indie band she had been boogieing to all week was great, new, and exciting, with fantastic new tunes, but now her orchestra was back, full-throated and reassuring, classic.

  Digital could be great, but nothing could replace vinyl.

  She snuggled against his naked chest, feeling the stiff, curly hairs brush against her cheek like a late summer breeze.

  “I am just so supremely happy to have you home again.”

  He cocked his handsome head and lifted a thick eyebrow. “Supremely happy?” he muttered, ruefully. “Considering everything that could happen, that sounds a little…optimistic and grand. Not that I…”

  “Okay,” she stopped him and thought for a moment. “It’s just so fucking awesome to have you pile driving my pussy again in that studly, manly fashion that you do so well.” She bit his nipple and yanked his nuts. He yelped.

  “Yo ho! That’s my foul-mouthed, appreciative broad.” He opened his mouth and clamped onto her breast. She gasped as the suction instantly hardened her and drove the tingling nub deep into his silken mouth. He released her. “Sorry. What I meant was, ‘that’s my foul-mouthed, appreciative, supremely sexy broad’ who’s still able to get a rise out of her loser of a loutish husband.”

  Her fingers curled around his thick, half-filled shaft, the throbbing veins flattening against her tight grip. “Oh, there it is, supreme manliness. I had almost forgot, lout, amidst all this cultural chitchat. It’s been all of…what? Five minutes since we did it? Sounds like it’s time for the manliness to stomp back into the sexy broad and show her who’s boss.” She crawled on top and straddled him.

  The viol scraped up the scale into a chortling guffaw. “Damn right, it’ll come back in, but it already knows who’s boss. Beat me into submission again, lady.” He sighed as she guided her beloved husband’s loving meat inside her, but his contentment almost instantly vanished. “Not that I haven’t been beaten into submission enough these last few months.”

  “Not in this department,” she snarled, lustily riding him slowly and thoroughly. “Maybe you should stalk into the middle of the board room stark naked and challenge all those Messer-uppers of the Universe to grow some balls.”

  He laughed. Syble gasped. Steven’s dick did wonderful things inside her when he laughed.

  As did Chad’s.

  “If it were only that easy,” the man underneath her said. “I’d have my balls out and shaking in their face before they could lose another billion.” The grim look returned, even as the horsecock she was riding remained solid as a post. “This may be the end, babe,” he noted grimly. “The acquisition fell through. The big boys have gone to the Feds to bail us out and they’re probably not going to do it. They want us to stew in our own…ooohh…juices.”

  “More juices!” She galloped toward the finish line. “I won!” Her two fists shot into the air, raising her breasts, as she crowed and her lush body shook and she rode the crest of the deep-rooted organism erupting from her molten-lava core.

  Steven’s eyes narrowed on the impaled curves arched and writhing over him.

  She fell forward, her hands ironing over the firm planes of his chest, her breasts flattening against him.

  Big, male hands cupped her ass with a sure grip, holding her firmly in place, as he too drove himself home. His liquid fire shot into her deepest recesses, painting hidden walls and secret tunnels only he had discovered these last ten years.

  With a yell, lusty curses, and a final animalistic shuddering of his limbs, he settled beneath her, his muscular thighs spread wide, cradling her exhausted body; his thick biceps stretched above, bracketing his smugly satisfied, handsome face.

  “Glory be, woman,” he rasped, his voice heavy with contentment, “You make me good! For that I thank ye.” He stretched, tensing his extremities, arching his hips, knowing Syble wouldn’t be dislodged, then slowly, luxuriously relaxed, releasing the tension.

  Syble rode the wave and settled onto her man. She was glued to Stephen, and not only below the waist. She would stick with him through thick and thin.

  Thick and thin.

  Employed or unemployed.

  “Will you ever forgive me?” The sudden despair in his voice hurt more than such a silly question ever could. Syble held on to him more tightly. They had given up a lot for him to make his play for the big time. He had put up with such crap this last year. Friends betrayed him. Bosses lied. He was too good, too trusting. But…she didn’t want to go there, not right now. These last weeks had been exhausting and debilitating for her and Stephen, such an emotional roller coaster. She was always amazed that he could come to their bed and satisfy her so thoroughly, that he would smooth her prickly annoyance at not having had him all week and then drive her to such heights and afterward leave her calm, so complete…again…that she would forgive him.

  She liked to think without her to come home to, to rebuild his ego, to salve his wounds, he wouldn’t have made it, but she knew better. Stephen was a survivor. She was a survivor. They made a great team. This wasn’t the first time they had been tested.

  And it wouldn’t be the last.

  “I may have to chain you to the bed to get back all the forgiveness I intend to get out of you.” Her lips brushed his throat, where his pulse pounded more strongly than ever. “I’ll suck all the forgiveness right out of you,” she nipped his chin, “and you know what with…and then you won’t have anything left to whine about.”

  “Syb, we may lose the house.”

  “There are other houses. In fact, nowadays there are plenty of houses to choose from and we could buy at a great price. Home,” she nipped him more firmly, “is where I hump you.”

  He suddenly grabbed her with a ferocity that was almost painful, encasing her with his arms and legs, hanging on for dear life. His breath was ragged. “You are my life. I would not exist without you.”

  Syble’s breath caught in her throat. Stephen seldom showed this much emotion, and never this much desperation. He was easy-going, secure, the rock on which she built their comfy, suburban existence. He wasn’t used to the shifting sands that had appeared under his feet this last year, or the sucking waves that appeared from out of nowhere and came from incomprehensible directions.

  “Now who’s being grand?” She stroked his broad back and his firm buttocks and ran her fingers through his thick hair until the sudden overwhelming tenseness began to ebb. “You’d survive.” She stuck her tongue in his ear and swabbed. “You’re too hot to cool down, even if I popped off.
And I have no plans to go anywhere, big boy.”

  A resigned, deep sigh welled up from his relaxing limbs and he laughed raucously until he was okay again. He pushed her back and gazed deeply into her eyes.

  “Damn debentures!” he bellowed.

  “Fuck futures!” she answered.

  “Shit on unsecured securities!”

  “Piss on puff-balled prognostications!”

  “What…?”

  They both erupted in hoots and hollers as he grabbed her and rolled her over to get on top and proceeded to cover every inch of her with kisses and licks and nibbles and gnaws. Stephen could ignite every fiber of her being. Like the undiscovered caves inside that he alone could emblazon with his golden semen, he could take a totally unprepared part of her—like between her fingers, or the backside of her heel—and before he was finished it was as sensitive and sensual and urgent as her volcanic vagina at the end of a lonely week.

  She had jacked him off once with her knee nuzzling into his scrotum and they had both been so shaken with the possibilities of what their tuned bodies could accomplish they hadn’t gone back to doing it ‘naturally’ for days.

  Those were the days. Kama Sutra days.

  Suddenly she sucked in her breath. His tongue was raking through her pubic hair. The dark forest gating her entrance gleamed wetly and glittered under his liquid laving. She had once mused about getting one of those bikini wax jobs and Steven had strictly forbidden it. He wanted her in all her glory. Fluid bubbled on the lips of her pussy, was licked off, re-tasted, and devoured by his open mouth and his strong, hungry lips.

  She grabbed his head, digging her nails through the thick waves, and shoved it hard into her center. His prickly cheeks sandpapered the straining tendons radiating from her slit. He launched his pebbled mouth probe, thrusting the gasping folds aside and drove deep into her, finding her clit, devouring it, dancing around it, enlarging it, expanding it until the delighted, engorged nerve endings were coursing through her entire body. She was a roiling mass under his determined ministrations, shrieking, begging, wailing for release, furiously fighting it, determined to dance at the peak for…ev…er…until suddenly she was sailing into space, always astonished, amazed. She exploded and rocketed into perfect bliss.