Pool Party

by K T Morrison

  The judge gripped her hair tight making her wince and chirp a painful noise, but it didn’t stop that narrow tongue still licking all over—and then the white dashes came. An eruption of bubbling at first, like an overflowing. And Skyler licked it up, but then he started shooting it; long wriggling ropes that landed somewhere in Darren’s sheets before Skyler’s mouth locked around his glans and he pumped it inside her.

  Skyler took it, her breath snorting out her nose, her face turning red, tendons standing out in her neck as he gripped her hair and ran his cock in an out of the tight ring of her lips. He roared like a lion, then did it again, hips driving, her cheeks billowing. His body shone in the pale light.

  He was done, his cock falling out, still dribbling, and he collapsed down on one hip and watched Skyler. Madison was up, nails grabbing over Skyler’s body, the two of them coming together to kiss. Darren saw Skyler’s mouth open and Madison’s did the same, tilting her head back, and Skyler let a mouthful of slimy white spew into Madison’s waiting maw. Everything that the judge had deposited inside Skyler being given now to Madison who drank it.

  Madison returned it then, twisting Skyler in the bed so she lay on her back, getting over top of her and letting what was left spill over her open lips. Both of their faces shone wetly from the judge’s sexual product. Then they were making out, kissing lovingly, their hands going over one another, and touching each other’s breasts.

  Madison began to kiss lower, down between her breasts and over her belly and then between her legs. Skyler gasped, drew her knees up and Darren reached out to hold one. Skyler put her hand over his. While Madison ate her out, humming a tune while she did, she blew wet bubbles through Skyler’s sex.

  His wrist was grabbed, and he looked to see a large masculine hand circling it, pulling him to the edge of the bed, the judge guiding Darren, holding him by the back of the neck. He pushed his face to Madison’s upturned rump; forcing him between her cheeks.

  He stuck his tongue out, let its breadth run wide on the hot, wet, coppery flesh between that young girl’s ass cheeks. He ran it up and down; the judge guiding him, forcing him to do it. He didn’t need to be forced; she tasted amazing.

  Then he was pulled back, roughly, and the judge guided him to lay on the bed and Darren worried that he was going to be mounted again. Only now it was Madison the judge assisted getting up, and Skyler climbing on top of him. She straddled his hips, her knees next to his ribs, her face over top of his, her hair sealing him off from the room; it was just the two of them in the tent of her shampoo-smelling mane.

  She locked her lips on his, and he loved kissing her, her hand scratching at his neck and around his ears and through his hair. He tasted the judge in her mouth, didn’t care, gave her his tongue and she sucked it. Her mouth was wet with another man’s semen, but she was kissing him and that was what mattered.

  He jumped then, feeling himself trapped underneath her, his erection unprotected and open below her rump; someone was scratching his thighs, someone was running a hand over his scrotum. Then he felt a wet warmth encircle it. A mouth taking him fully inside. He could feel the scrape of teeth, could feel the probing of a tongue. Then they were bobbing, going up and down on him and he was so close. Could picture the judge now, his mouth wrapped around Darren’s cock, humiliating him and his much smaller penis, taking control of it, not allowing him one of these beautiful girls.

  But it felt incredible, and he was so close. He pictured it as Madison—his eyes darting out to the left and right, hoping to see the judge at the head of the bed but seeing only beautiful lustrous locks. Then a finger went between his cheeks, another hand pushing one of his knees high. He didn’t fight it; the finger went into him, stroking along his seam up past his prostate and then up into his anus. His balls disappeared inside his body, into his stomach practically, and he exploded.

  Everything that had been inside him squeezed forcefully from his balls like they’d been slammed in a heavy book, jets blasting out of the end of his cock and into someone’s mouth. Skyler kissed him furiously, holding his face firm, shoving her tongue into his mouth biting at his lips. He snorted and grunted wetly into her kissing, heaved and choked, felt hot wet splashes shooting into someone’s mouth, felt them gripping him. His hands went up her sides, cupped her breasts as he enjoyed the most powerful orgasm he had in a decade.

  Skyler bit his lower lip hard and pulled it away from his face and he looked to see her smiling, his flesh pinched between her perfect white teeth. She giggled, let it snap back. She rose up over him, knowing he had ejaculated, knowing the job was done. His humiliation was complete.

  But then Madison was there, climbing over her shoulder, the point of her chin slipping up Skyler’s collar, Skyler turning to meet her. Madison opened her mouth and Darren’s semen dribbled from it; running down from the curve of her pouted lip and to the point of her chin, and Skyler sucked it up then kissed her.

  Darren groaned and cried with itchy ecstasy and watched them until he went black.

  Chapter Eleven

  Darren never even heard the car door. Head filled with whisky-soaked cotton, the first foretoken Lynn arrived home was the sound of footsteps downstairs in the foyer. He bolted upright.

  He lay crossways on the bed, his knees bent, feet dangling above the floor. On his right side, laying next to him, was Skyler. She was face down with the blankets bunched up underneath her as though she were hugging them. She had a pillow under her head. At the head of the bed he saw Lovelace, laying up against the pillows on top of the covers, his legs parted, his huge but deflated thing laying down on the sheets. Cuddled up next to him with a pillow between her knees was Madison, peacefully sleeping with her cheek on his chest and his arm around her.

  He jumped up, an urgent and pounding sense of dread beating its way through him. He ran to the walk-in closet and found the clothes he’d worn before settling into the trunks to go swimming with two twenty-year-old girls. The walk-in closet was a mess, all of Lynn’s clothes pulled from hangers and scattered throughout. He found the shorts he’d worn laying under layers of Lynn’s things.

  He pulled them on, whipping them up his legs, zipping them as he ran back out of the closet, panicking, turning right for some reason and running to the bedroom window that looked down over the front of their home. There in the driveway, he saw Lynn’s Cayenne pulled haphazardly at the front of the house, nosing into the driveway but not fully off the end of the crescent. Her driver door remained open. Parked in the driveway, behind the girls Hyundai, was a black AMG Mercedes SL with the top down. It must’ve been Lovelace’s car. She knew someone was here.

  He heard the footsteps now, mounting the steps. She was coming slowly, feet heavy, probably worried what she would find. If she had looked out in the backyard what would she say? Had she gone to the kitchen? It was a mess in there.

  His heart was pounding, and he ran to the bed, thinking he would wake them, but there was nowhere to hustle them, nowhere to hide them. And he didn’t imagine the three of them would be compliant in any way. All three of them probably getting off on the fact that Darren was about to lose the love of his life, was about to hurt the woman he loved and destroy his family.

  He made his way down the passageway that led to the hall, slipping along the right side on his tip toes, trying to avoid the broken glass, and stepped over the smashed table lamp. The door to the bedroom was open, the sound of her footsteps in the hall now. He trotted to make it in time, slipping backward into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

  Turning now, he saw his beautiful wife frozen midway from the stairs to the bedroom. She knew. She wasn’t sure what was in the bedroom but she knew that their marriage was over. He could see it in her face, her mouth drawn in absolute horror. Her cheeks sunken, her eyes wide and watery, her mouth had fallen open as if she had no power in her jaw.

  He stood shirtless, just a pair of shorts and bare feet, his shorts not even done up properly, the top button not closed. She was dresse
d for travel, a nice and light silky sleeveless blouse and a charcoal gray skirt that came above the knee, her horsebit Gucci loafers. Her thick, honey-blonde hair was tied back, but a strand had fallen free and dangled from her hairline down along the side of her face to her collar.

  He croaked, “Lynn ...”

  “Darren ...” she whispered.

  “Lynn, honey ...” He made to move toward her, anticipated that if he somehow managed the strength to make it the fifteen steps to his wife, he wouldn’t be met with anything but a slap across his face or an attempted kick between his legs. So he approached her slowly, his hands held up, palms facing her, open and surrendering. “Baby ...”

  She cried, “Who’s here, Darren? Who’s here?”

  He went to her, her posture slumping, her face twisting up even tighter, her cheeks glowing red. He put his hands out and she made to move around him. “Please, Lynn, don’t go in there. I can explain ...”

  “Oh no,” she gasped and covered her mouth.

  “Just let me explain. It’s not really how it looks, Lynn, baby ...”

  “Oh, no, Darren. Who’s in there. Just tell me. Is it a man? ... It’s a man ...?”

  A man? She thought he was with a man? His wife was upset, thinking her husband had been gay this whole time. It made sense, putting her recent coldness in perspective; he wasn’t satisfying her, and she assumed he was gay. But it didn’t even make sense—they’d been together so long, what signs would he have given her? “A man?” he said.

  “Is he in there?”

  “Who?” he said, and all that worry and fear washed away with sudden indignity, mad that she thought he had a male lover. But seeing her face, seeing the look of a woman who had her entire world ripped out from under her, seeing all that in her wide and spacious eyes he was instantly supplicant again. He dropped to his knees and held his hand out to her.

  She put hers out, and he took it, looked up at her, said, “Lynn, please, honey it’s not what it looks like. I don’t know even know how to tell you ...”

  She wasn’t even looking at him, she was looking past him down the hall. He threw a look over his shoulder, saw the door closed, saw that she only looked to the possible horrors beyond. She cried, “Oh no.” He squeezed her hand tight.

  “Lynn, it’s okay ... Please, come down to the kitchen,” he said, and he went up on one knee, holding her hand to brace himself and pulled himself to stand. Still she looked around him, looked to the door. “Lynn,” he said, pulling on her hands, yanking on her arms to get her attention. Her eyes slowly moved away from the door, tracking ever so slowly until they met his.

  Her eyes welled, a spate of tears overflowing down her cheeks. “Jesus, oh, Darren ... I’m ... I’m so sorry ... Oh, no ...”

  “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, “I’m sorry.” He crushed her in his arms, squeezed her tight, and she felt disconnected from the universe, standing with absolutely no strength in her body. If he let her go right now, she would collapse on the floor. “Baby, Lynn, it’s okay ... Come to the kitchen with me.”

  Now she was shaking, her body taking on a tremor starting in her arms but quickly working its way through her back, and he felt it in her legs, too, with hers pressed against his. Then he heard it, the sound of the bedroom door open behind him. He went instantly cold, a frozen bolt shot through him, up through his anus into the center of his brain, his whole body clenched suddenly tight.

  Then a soft familiar voice. Skyler’s, and she brightly sang: “There she is.”

  Lynn gasped, “Oh, Jesus, oh, no ...”

  “Lynn,” he whispered, and then stiffly turned to look over his shoulder. There was Skyler leaning against the door jamb, completely naked, her arms folded across her breasts, one leg crossed casually over the other, a bold scruff of hair at her crotch.

  Her head turned to the right, and she said into the bedroom, “Lynn’s home now.”

  Lynn’s voice, constricted with fear, whispered past Darren’s ear: “Oh, fuck, oh, no. Skyler ...”

  Now Darren could hear from their bedroom the voice of Lovelace: “Bring her to me.”

  He saw Skyler nod, then turned to regard both of them again. She grinned. She said to Lynn: “You’ve been naughty.”

  Lynn darted a look to Darren and her mouth worked to say something to him but only a creek came from within her throat somewhere low, near her clavicle.

  “Lynn ... What’s ...? ...”

  Skyler said, “You’re going to keep him waiting?”

  Lynn’s eyes dashed away to the young girl that used to be a friend of their daughter’s. “No, I ...”

  Now Madison’s head came bouncing around the corner, peaking at them, buoyant, with an exuberant smile. She said, “You better get your ass in here,” her tone harsh and parental. Then Madison was gone, and it was only Skyler extending a hand to them now and curling her finger, drawing them to her.

  “Lynn, what’s going on?”

  “I’m so sorry, Darren. I’m so sorry ...” She let him go and left, walked away, and he watched her back as she went toward Skyler who continued to curl that finger.

  Darren called after her, “Lynn? Lynn ...?”

  But she ignored him, and now he watched her bare legs work, saw the flexing of her toned calves as she padded to the gap in the French doors, walking past Skyler and disappearing into the bedroom. Skyler made a funny face at him, shook her head and then she followed behind Lynn closing the door behind her.

  “What the fuck?” he breathed.

  He went to the door, turned the lever. It wasn’t locked, and he opened it. He saw Lynn walking around the broken pictures and the shattered glass. Lovelace sat naked on their bed, hands curled over the lip of the mattress, legs open, toes on the floor, his genitals draped down the side. He was looking at Lynn very sternly.

  Darren followed down the hall and saw Lynn stop in front of the bed before Lovelace. Skyler was watching, her arms folded. She turned to regard Darren approaching her, and she snapped her fingers and pointed toward a Louis XIV chair in the corner. She nodded her chin toward it as well, her mouth firm and her eyes mean.

  He said to her, “What the fuck is happening?”

  She said, “Just sit over there,” jabbing her finger angrily. He looked and saw Madison in the walk-in closet again. She was rooting around through drawers, her breasts swaying.

  “Lynn,” he said firmly. She didn’t turn. “Lynn,” he repeated, but still she stared at Lovelace.

  Lovelace breathed deeply, a man of great patience though it was wearing thin now. He looked to Darren, and he said, “Darren. Sit in the corner as Skyler told you.” He said it slowly and purposely as if there were no other thing for Darren to do, and he was wasting everyone’s time.

  “Just tell me what the fuck is happening here.”

  Lovelace said, “I’m not going to ask you again.”

  Skyler gripped him just above his elbow and her nails dug deeply into his flesh, hurting him.

  “Hey,” he said, and pulled his arm away but she gripped him tighter.

  She said, “Get in the fucking chair, Darren.”

  “Lynn,” he said. “Should I call the police?”

  Without looking at him, Lynn said very quietly, “Darren, just do what he tells you.”

  Lovelace confirmed what she said. “Darren, if you call the police I want to remind you that the Sheriff was also playing golf with me yesterday. Do not make things complicated because any entanglement you cause will only tighten on you.”

  “Lynn,” he said, not approaching her, for some reason keeping his distance. “Are you okay?”

  Madison emerged from the open closet doors, standing tall in her heels near him. He saw that she held an alligator Gucci belt of Lynn’s, the brass buckle gripped in her fist. She twirled the dangling belt like a lasso, and she regarded him meanly. In a low voice she said to him, “For fuck’s sake, Darren, get in the fucking chair.”

  Lynn said, “Darren, just do it.”

  “O-okay,
” he said finally, feeling a weakness through his back; like he had jumped out of a plane without a parachute, and all he saw around him was the enormity of what he didn’t know about his life. None of this made any sense.

  He walked around Lynn in a circle, heading toward the foot of the bed, aiming for the chair in the corner. There was a whip crack next him, Madison snapping the belt in the air behind him as he walked.

  Chapter Twelve

  He picked up the pace and went to the foot of the bed, sat down in the chair and gripped the arms of it tightly in his clawed hands. Madison continued to twirl the belt now, strutting slowly toward Lynn, placing down the point of her heel and then letting the toe clomp on the hardwood. Then she was on the Persian rug standing behind his wife.

  Darren faced her, watching from the foot of the bed seeing Lovelace’s shoulder, seeing his wife standing before this man who was a stranger. Lynn knew this man though, didn’t she? Her nemesis. A man she had faced in court many times, a man who had almost always bested her, she said. The few times she won, Darren remembered popping the cork on a bottle for her and they would drink champagne and toast her success.

  He looked at his beautiful wife and she stood, feet almost together, arms at her sides, dangling loosely, though he saw her hands clenched in fists. There was a fear on her face, an expression of worry. And he was coming to grips with what he was seeing. This had nothing to do with him in the slightest. His infidelity meant nothing to her. At least not at the moment.

  Right now she was under control of Lovelace just as he himself was last night. His wife had fallen victim to him. He began to clutch the armrests tighter; the chair squeaking underneath him as he grew more and more uncomfortable. Lovelace remained silent, just regarding Lynn from head to toe and saying nothing. He could see that his wife was trembling.

  Madison leered around her shoulder, trying to intimidate her by looking closely at the side of her head. Skyler, however, leaned against a wall, arms folded, eyes narrow. She looked far more in-control than she did yesterday. It was an intimidating factor to her, and he only caught glimpses of it yesterday.