DarklyEverAfter

by Allistar Parker

  In the moment my wife entered the room, I knew she did not get her wish. The short stubby guy following her couldn’t possibly hold a candle to the hung fellow we had seen earlier. When I asked how things went, she smiled and suggested we go home for some alone time. Once was never enough for her. Three times might be too many for me, but I would try.

  In the car, I asked Susan if she was disappointed about her choice of keys. She smiled, speaking eloquently about a cowboy’s way of life. The metaphor did little to explain her situation, but I continued listening.

  “You see, honey, it’s not the length of the barrel. It’s how the guy handles it. And my guy’s tongue performed much better than his gun.”

  “He’ll make a good lawyer some day.”

  The two of us rode down the street near our house. The chit chat felt a little awkward, like we had been away for months and now we were trying to find common ground.

  “So, the guy’s dick didn’t find his way home?”

  “Well, it served a purpose,” she said while looking out the window.

  The phrase bothered me a little. Not that she hadn’t every right to screw him, but she had said his tongue was better. What else could she have meant?

  Leaning in my direction, she whispered loud enough to be heard outside, “Some men are better in the mouth than the pussy.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? I don’t take blow jobs well?”

  Nothing in our past had ever indicated that I was a poor blow job partner. I usually just lay there and let her do all the work. I warn her before ejaculating to give her time to pull away, prepare to swallow, or whatever move she might want to make.

  “It’s not that you are not courteous. You just don’t force the issue like he did.”

  “Like what?”

  Some questions should never be asked, especially about what others have done sexually. I didn’t need to know that this guy jammed his dick down her throat. Neither did I need to know that he forced her to swallow every drop of semen. The more I found out, the harder it was for me to continue the conversation.

  There was no way, however, that I was going to park this car until we straightened this problem out. I turned left and headed to the community pool. At that time of night, even the teenagers copping a few feels would be gone. In the cool of the evening, I rolled our windows down and turned the car off.

  “I’m too nice? I thought that was what you wanted.”

  “Not always.”

  “You complained when I forced you to let me come in your mouth.”

  She looked confused. “When was that?”

  I thought for a minute. “I don’t remember exactly. We were still dating.”

  I knew the minute I said that, it was wrong. Twenty-some years ago, she didn’t even like to be touched below the waist. Things had changed. I had not.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Having cultivated the poor puppy dog look over the years, I rolled my eyes in her direction and poured out my heart in one look. She could never resist that face.

  “So, what did you find interesting this evening?” she asked.

  I pondered my thoughts for a moment, making sure not to make the same mistake every guy makes, bragging about how great the other woman was in bed. The moments passed rapidly while I tried to formulate the best answer. My wife’s few harrumphs in my direction signaled her impatience. I had to speak soon.

  “Oh, the strap-on felt a little weird.”

  Nothing could prepare a guy for the look on his wife’s face when the discussion comes up about strap-ons and their husbands. Shock and Awe would describe her face. It was if I had asked her to grow a penis and start her own kink festival in our living room. Perhaps I should have kept that one for later.

  “What else did the little slut do?”

  The first bit of luck came my way when I remembered the shower. I didn’t have to mention the blow job or the other stuff. I could simply say we cleaned up and got dressed. As the news of normal swinging behavior seemed to calm my wife, I searched my brain for other normal activities that would carry me out of trouble.

  “Did you come more than once?” she asked more sheepishly.

  “No, heaven’s no. You know better than that.” The little lie seemed more appropriate than the truth. Just the mention of her sucking me off in the shower could have caused another round or fever. I was sick enough.

  As we talked, I noticed my wife was absent-mindedly running her fingers over her nipples. Not so anyone could notice it, but she would drag a finger gingerly over it and return her hand to her thigh. For the first few minutes, I thought it was accidental, maybe some Fruedian moment that came from some deep seated childhood need to be angry. It just kept happening, first one hand and then the other. I was about ready to write the whole process off until I caught her slipping her hand under that sexy little skirt.

  She was quick. I almost didn’t see it. Those finger crawled under her skirt, made a fast blitz to her pussy and pulled out, all to the rhythm of the radio and are harsh words. Looking up as if nothing happened, she continued grilling me on what that other Bombshell did. In an instant, the smell of a woman in heat drifted passed my nose as if someone had just sprayed an arousal room freshener. She was hot for the story.

  “You know, I think I remember her bending over in the shower and letting me see that large clit wink at me.”

  That vivid look of acute tension crossed Susan’s face. Her stoic look would have normally fooled me, but I was on to her tricks and I knew how to handle this. Facing the outdoors, I strained my eyes to see her crotch as I pretended to be as angry as she pretended. There, before my watchful eye, she slid her finger back under her skirt. A small noise escaped her throat as she pulled her hand back out again.

  Her other hand was now circling her right nipple with a fever pitch. She thought it was hidden in the dark, but the side mirror gave me a clear view of her actions. I loved how she pushed and pulled, eventually grasping it between her thumb and finger for one good squeeze.

  I couldn’t resist. I slid my hand under her skirt to find a sopping-wet, hairy pussy. It surprised me so much that I never even questioned where her panties were. Burying my finger two-knuckles deep, I stroked her favorite spot with ease.

  “Don’t you dare,” she said with vibrato. “Don’t you dare make me come, here.”

  I never listen to women talking in vibrato. It seems so pointless. They never tell you what they really want or desire. I kept the finger rolling on her g-spot while I leaned in to kiss her. Our tongues met in a twisted accident of knots in her mouth before pouring over into mine. Soon we were trapped into a mind absorbing rush of fingers, tongues and passion so deep that we hadn’t even noticed the police car pulling up behind us.

  With a rap on the fogged window, the officer got our attention. “All right, kids. Come out of there.”

  Withdrawing my fingers from her pussy, I rolled the window down as Susan straightened her skirt. “Hi Officer.”

  “Hi Officer,” she echoed.

  “Folks, you know you shouldn’t be out here.” The more he shook the night stick at me the more I wanted to hide in the back seat. “Ma’am, you should button that shirt up. You might catch cold.”

  As he walked away, I thought how much I hated this scene when I was a teen. The thought of having my parents called at this hour at my age seemed more punishment than I deserved.

  “Yes sir. We’re leaving.” As he drove off, my wife flashed him her bouncy tits and stuck her tongue out at the officer.

  “That’s just plain childish,” I said, starting the car.

  I pulled the car into the driveway next to the house. The kids were all gone somewhere, perhaps our daughter to her boyfriend’s house and our son to his bud’s apartment. Whatever, we were alone. I looked at my wife for the first time since our event in the parking lot, and I really looked at her. I could see the fire still glowing in her eyes, and her rosy cheeks cherry-blossomed from all that flustered sexual tens
ion released from her body. She was gorgeous.

  “He doesn’t know what a lucky guy he was to have you tonight.”

  She smiled. “Who? What do you mean?”

  “No one will ever get that chance again. You are now all mine.”

  “We’ll see.”

  For the first time in years, I opened the door for my wife. As I lifted her from the car and shut the door, I pulled her to my body and wrapped my arms around her in the tightest embrace we have done in years. I held her close as she stared into my eyes, partly surprised at my actions and partly hoping for some real action.

  I cupped her chin in my hand, pulling her face to mine. Our lips touched, gently at first, but the fire in our hearts welded our lips together as my tongue searched the reaches of her mouth. I held her close with one hand on her head and one lowered to her butt. I felt her push her groin to mine. Just like in the first days of dating, I slid my hand under her dress, finding her panties missing. All I could feel was a sticky spot here and there and a smooth leg attached. She moaned as I slid my hand around her thigh to that one spot between her mons and hip that always makes her crazy when I lick it.

  Susan forced her face away from mine. Giving me more room for my hand, she leaned back on the car door, smiling broadly, her eyes closed to the world. I took the hint and ran my hand across her furry triangle. My finger followed the widening gap between her legs, tracing the lines of her pussy lips until my finger struck a wet spot. The sound of delicious pleasure coming from her mouth told me I was at the right spot.

  My middle finger wandered down her lovely slit. until my other knuckles rested on her lips. With a come-hither motion, I began to stroke my wife slowly and methodically. An exhaustive rush of air exited her mouth as she rolled her head back against the car. Her hips had begun to gyrate clockwise. She felt swollen and full as she motioned around and over my hand. A sudden rush of liquid rolled out of her pussy onto my hand. There were several moans and a lot of squirming before my beautiful wife of many years settled back on the car. Grabbing my hand, she licked my fingers one-by-one, smiling and cooing as if she was eating the best tasting frosting in the world.

  “You’re not done, yet,” I said as I knelt down in front of her.

  The fragrant odor of her cunt was overwhelming. I barely kept my cool as I slowly edged my face to her raven hair. A little nudge to her clit with my tongue made Susan jump. The small squeal was delightful. I licked again, this time with more force and with deliberate strokes circling the swollen button. The smell of her essence flowed from her like she was trying to make me crazy for her. It was working. She twitched with each stroke, but she held me tighter to her, encouraging me to return to her clit.

  I lifted her leg over my shoulder so I had better access to her slit. My fingers found their way back to that rough edge just inside her vulva and I began my now-famous finger stroke again, teasing and egging her closer to orgasm. Every dozen licks or so, I glanced at her face staring down at me. I wanted to see the pleasure in her eyes. I wanted to know she was enjoying this. I wanted most of all to know I could do her better than that other guy.

  Her face told it all, the intense feeling my finger was giving her, the depth of pleasure she was feeling and how much she wanted me to continue. The touch of my tongue on her clitoris made her eyes roll back. I had her where I needed her to be.

  The closer she came to orgasm, the more I worked to stimulate her. When she finally reached the peak of pleasure, I slowed my attack and let her settle down. Her facial expression fell. When she slowed to just the right point, I again attacked her clit with vigor and strength until she was cruising high on my hand. Her breath was short. Her muscles tensed with each stroke of my finger, and fluid again trickled from her pussy.

  “No, not yet. Not till I tell you.” I stopped completely. A single finger-stroke every other second to keep her senses heightened but not enough to allow her to go over the edge. She nudged my face against her pussy, harder with each small stroke. I kept her on the edge with only enough stimulus to keep her there.

  “Let me see your tits,” I said just before a gentle lick to her clit.

  She hesitated. I looked at her eyes wondering if she was about to cry or explode. “No more until I see you licking and sucking your tits.”

  Susan slid her hands under the straps on the dress and let them fall over her arms. The dress slid low enough for her to take one breast in her hand. Her brown nipple sprang to life when my wife’s tongue began to run circles around it. She squeezed her breast, teased the nipple, moaning through her closed lips.

  I rolled my tongue over her clit gently, just once. Then I licked it twice. The three licks in a row allowed me to pause for just a second to watch her masterfully suck on her own beautiful breasts, first one nipple and then the other, switching back and forth with a precision of a clock. Viewing my wife in such an action had my dick as hard as nails. I had to find release in a few minutes, but for now, there was no better rush than what I was giving my wife.

  My fingers began their magic dance once more. Her hips followed suit. I would stroke and she would grind her hips into my face. Licking and sucking on her clit made her body begin to shudder. Her back arched and there was no stopping her now. I rubbed and stroked her with every trick I had ever learned. I pulled her clit into my mouth, holding it there with my lips and licking along the bulb as fast as I could. Her breath came with great difficulty. Her chest heaved each time she inhaled. Still, she kept sucking and licking her tits. In a swell of tense muscles and shivering thighs, she let a small but audible moan escape her lips. Her guttural sound echoed through her body so that I could feel her quivering all the way down in her pussy.

  “Oh shit. Harder. Harder. Damn! Deeper. Do it harder!”

  I felt a river of fluids flowing out of her, spurting onto the concrete with each contraction of her orgasm. She nearly squeezed my finger off in her pussy, but I never relented, fingering her throughout what I considered the first phase of the night. As her moans subsided, I slowed my strokes and licks to a minimal level, allowing her to relax.

  Lying back on the car, my wife had gentleness in her posture. She looked ever so relaxed and spent. I thought of how she looked when she arrived at the hall with that cowboy and I wondered if I really had bested him. To be sure, I knew she needed something else.

  I kissed her lips, full and deep, with all the love I could muster. I ran my hand along her legs and down to the back of her knee, a place she loves to have rubbed. Kissing my way down her neck and onto her collar bone, I let my hand wander to her breast. The soft feel of those dainty nipples felt good in my fingers, so good that I let my mouth devour them.

  “Now, honey. Those are a little sensitive.”

  “That’s the point, I think.”

  She pulled me up to her face, kissing me with her tongue pressed against my tonsils. I loved the aggressiveness of her play, but I wanted her tongue batting something else. Not able to reach her knee anymore, I moved my hand to her ass, still pressed against the car.

  “Let me help you down,” I said as I unbuttoned my pants.

  That damn grin of her always makes me hard, but this time her fingers had beaten her mouth to the job. She used my own lubricant to rub her hands up and down the length of the shaft. My poor bulbous head, purple from the strain, begged for some attention, but just as I had withheld some from her, she kept clear of that gland. Instead, she worked her hand up and down my shaft, with an occasional lick to the head. One stroke every couple of seconds. That timing felt familiar. She was paying me back.

  It didn’t matter. I was so juiced by my own skills and what I had made her do that I had to fight not to come then. She was out of luck. Nothing she could do would stop the orgasm, even trying to deny me stimulus.

  To my dismay, that wasn’t her plan. It seems she had a new trick of two for me. As I was beginning to jerk and bob, the dance I always do, I felt her left hand creep around my hip to my crack. I often dreamed of her forcing m
y dick deep in her mouth by leveraging herself with my hips. Her plan involved my ass, but not the way I envisioned.

  As the last controllable spasm traveled down my thigh, I felt two of Susan’s fingers sliding deep in my ass. She twisted her fingers in a come-hither movement as she buried her face in my crotch, sinking my dick past her mouth and deep in her throat. My toes began to curl. My heart pounded so hard I thought she could hear it. The air leaving my lungs struggled to exit. As soon as my back straightened, I exploded in her mouth.

  She fingered my ass in rhythm with my orgasm. Sucking and pulling on my dick, she milked me and my prostate as if she had done this for years. I moaned and grunted like a little pig until the last drop of semen rolled out of the end of my dick. I was exhausted and spent.

  Never had I orgasmed like that before. I spent the largest load I’d had in twenty years. I fell against the car, landing my head on the roof with a thud.

  “I love you, honey,” I said as I forced myself erect. “Want to go upstairs and go to bed?”

  “Sure, but what about a warm shower first? Just you and me and some hot water.”

  I thought if I had to go again tonight, I would die. What the hell? You live once.

  Chapter Eight Something to What You Say

  The soft lilt in her voice echoed over the patches of grass along the edges of the pond. The more I watched the sun unfold across the distant mountains, the more I wanted her.

  A little deer stood at the edge of the clearing, eating. A small sparrow sang in the sunlight a song of tomorrow. The fresh breeze, the consciousness of being alone played in the crevices of my mind. The melancholy whispers in the ripples of the pond as the wind danced across the surface made me dream of her.

  I closed my eyes and there she was, a vision of radiance. Long legs. Sculpted facial features. Perky breasts that begged me to suckle them. I thought it was a dream, but dreams don’t call to their lovers with passionate kisses. Her lips swept across mine in delightful anguish. The more she explored my lips, the more I wanted. When I was engulfed in her spell, I knew I would go on forever with her.