Rachel was standing on tiptoes, putting away the cups and glasses, when a pair of hands encircled her body. They lingered for a moment at her waist, then slid upward as if magnetically drawn toward the full, soft curves of her breasts. "Oh!" she said, nearly dropping a cup in her haste to turn round. "Oh," she said again, lips curling into a gentle, loving smile. "Hello, darling."
Jon's answer was a kiss, planted firmly upon her warm moist-lipped mouth. She melted into his arms, enfolding him as he enfolded her, and they clung together, merging souls in that kiss. Her heart fluttered against his body and, as she pressed closely, she felt the stinging of his cock. The penis rose inside his pants, a rapidly erecting muscle, and she strained to feel its masculine pressure touching her loins. His hand stroked up and down her back, feeling at last to cup her buttocks, and Jon pulled her even closer while Rachel squirmed passionately at his erotic embrace.
"Now," he whispered, moist breath dampening her cheek and upper lip. "I want you now, darling!"
"Come upstairs," she invited, breathing huskily. "Come upstairs with me. Strip me. Throw me on the bed and mount me. I want you, too!" Her hand moved into the space between their bodies and she traced the outline of his throbbing cock inside his trousers. He was rampant now, and she shuddered delightedly as she fingered his hard steely lance.
"I can't wait," he laughed slyly, relaxing his hold. Rachel stepped back, her ass bumping into the kitchen counter, and the instant she stopped moving, Jon's hands flew to the buttons of her blouse. "Here," he said. "Let's fuck right here. In the kitchen. Now."
He unbuttoned her blouse, flinging the shirt open. His hands immediately closed upon the white-cupped mounds of her tits, and he squeezed and kneaded them with a passion that walked the thin line between savagery and tenderness. Rachel closed her eyes and took a deep breath, causing her tits to lift and rise, filling his eager hands. Her nipples were up, as stiff as his pecker, clawing at the soft nylon of the brassiere in their desire to be bare and free and available to him.
By that time he'd leaned in to his work, tongue scraping on the lightly tanned flesh just above the lace trim of Rachel's bra. She quivered when he touched her there, a lovely delicious quiver that tingled her from head to toes. She put her hands on his head, messing his hair as he licked her skin. "Darling!" she said.
"Now," he repeated, tugging at the white bra until one cup yielded, fabric pulling low to allow the escape of a beautiful brown nipple. His tongue slapped her teat back and forth, the limber bud moving as he licked it, and then he had her nipple in his mouth, sucking, pulling as if the tender pap were a string of flexible taffy. Rachel's fingers dug into his scalp, her head and shoulders tossed back, and she was trilling a soft wordless cry of joy into the pleasant afternoon.
In another moment he had the bra unhooked, and she was bare to the waist almost before she realized. "Oh, hurry," she told him breathlessly as he fondled and kissed her naked tits with hungry excitement. "Oh, hurry! I can't wait!"
Jon straightened up, his eyes glazed with passion as they scanned round the kitchen. "Where?" he asked her. "On the floor? On the table?" Then he brightened, and be tugged at Rachel's hand. In two giant steps he led her to the dishwasher in the corner, and his hands went crazy on the fastening of her slacks.
"The curtains!" she gasped, using her hands on his face. "Close the curtains! The neighbors may be watching!"
It took him almost no time at all, and he was with her again before her hands had a chance to fall to her sides. He undid her slacks and dragged them swiftly to her ankles. Rachel stepped out of the fallen pants with a soft, almost girlish giggle, and his fingers were already running back up her legs, hooking into the waistband of her panties. Down they went, and she raised her legs to help him get them off. "Up," he commanded, grabbing her around the waist. Effortlessly, as if she weighed scarcely an ounce, he lifted Rachel and sat her atop the dishwasher. Her legs opened automatically and he spread them a little wider. He caressed her legs as he feasted his eyes on the pink slit, visible among the auburn curls of her beaver. One of his hands moved into her crotch, twining through the silky curls of hair, fingertips brushing up and down the line of her well-defined gash, and she squirmed and moaned when one of those fingertips dared to make the most unobtrusive kind of entry between her cuntal lips.
"Ohhhh yessss!!" she purred, swiveling her hips and scooting toward him as his fingertip slipped into her pussy. She wiggled her bottom, rippling cuntal muscles all around his intruding digit, and he thrust a little deeper, this time showing her conclusively that he was in earnest. "God!" she sang in a yipping, happy voice, "you certainly know how to hit the spot!"
"Try this," suggested Jon, extracting his finger and angling his face into the spread of her legs. He braced his hands on her legs and rubbed his chin on her dampening gash. Rachel sighed and cooed and clutched her tits in a vain effort to soothe the aching throb which coursed through their rounded curving mounds about twice as often as her pulse beat. Her nipples stood up, thick and swollen, between her fingers and she squeezed at them, obviously relishing the little stabs resulting in erotic harmony.
His tongue paddled through the delicate splay of her pink pussy – quite snug for a woman of Rachel's age ranging up and down the slick vulva flesh, lingering a long, dreamy time in the neighborhood of her hot cunt. Dear God, he had a way of using his tongue on her trigger that… that… Rachel closed her eyes and trembled with the petite explosion of a mini-orgasm, and she tried to close her thighs upon Jon's neck, to trap him forever in the musky hotbox of her cunt that he might never cease giving her this lovely kind of head, the most beautiful she'd ever known.
The only kind she'd ever known, as well, but that didn't matter. He was the only man who'd ever done this, or anything else of a sexual nature, to Rachel, and he was the only man she'd ever wanted. Not in her thirty-eight years had she ever felt the slightest twinge of desire for anyone else. Except perhaps Marion Brardo in Desiree, but that was only a movie and she wasn't sure it counted. And moments like this – ah! Ahhhhh!! – they were the proof that she'd given her heart and pussy with true wisdom.
His tongue snaked a serpentine pattern around her glistening, sex-charged cunt, and he kissed the hot dew-misted bud with the same passionate eagerness he'd given to her mouth. She was just coming down from that first climactic high, and his lips on her button nearly sent her floating again. She moaned, knowing that it was as good now as it had ever been. She squeezed her tits with vigor.
She squeezed until they ached like beaten, bleeding flesh, and it was enough. "Oh, Jon, darling," she told the man, "give me all your tongue! Lick me inside and out! Oh, please put your tongue inside me!"
He was only too happy to oblige. Fingers prying wide her delightfully snug-lipped twat, Jon thrust his tongue up Rachel, into the juicy inner swamp of her sex, and she groaned with renewed arousal. But if his tongue was so satisfying, how much more so his cock.
"Your prick now," she begged. "Give me your prick!!"
Again that tongue shot up her pussy, probing as if he wanted to test her readiness. Well, she was sopping wet inside, and if he couldn't taste the cunt-honey she was secreting so profusely, he needed a new tongue. Five minutes ago she'd been busy putting away the dishes, like any suburban housewife – the dishwasher was still a little warm, but not half so warm as Rachel's hot ass – and now here she was, naked, nipples quivering as her fingers mauled their brown erections, cunt dripping sweet sticky juices all over Jon's tongue and lips.
He raised his head from her loins and she could see the wet mustache of pussy fluid ringing his mouth. She wanted to kiss him, to lap her secretions from his face, and she dragged him up, toward her, lips already parting as she anticipated his cock.
Rachel heard him unzipping, unbelting, unbuttoning, as their mouths crushed together and tongues did playful battle, for supremacy. She heard the swishing of his trousers as they fell, and a second rustle as he lowered his shorts, and then he was pushing into the gap of her spread thighs and she was scooting closer and closer to the edge of the dishwasher, more than ready to meet him.
"Yeesssss!!" she moaned into Jon's open mouth as his nude, fiery pecker point made its first tactile contact with the yearning slash of her twat. She wriggled and swiveled atop the dishwasher, thinking, God, what a convenient appliance! It was just the right height! When he straightened up, his dick and her gash were level. They'd have to screw here again, and soon, she thought. And the tip of his cock wedged open her pussylips, sinking just far enough into Rachel's liquid core to set off an even greater flow of vaginal saliva, whose stickiness greased the knob of his cock.
It was the same stickiness, the same fragrance she could taste on his mouth, and without any vanity, Rachel could understand why he loved to eat her, why he thirsted for the opportunity to bury his face in the hair-fringed center of her body and suck until honey flawed into his gulping mouth. She only wished there was time to return the compliment now. To kneel before him and adore his prick with her lips and tongue, gobbling and swallowing and teasing from Jon's rod the thick, tangy male fluid that had turned Rachel Messenger into a devout cum-addict such a long time ago. But there wasn't time. He was pushing into her with a little more force now, his cock thrusting at the coy tightness of her snatch, and she was opening bit by bit to receive him in the hungry hole that must have been created with Jon and his cock in her creator's mind.
"AHHHH!!!" she screamed as his cock slammed into her. It was very long and very thick, and he filled her majestically. Her cunt spread to allow him entry, then closed up over him like a fist, melting into place around the bulky throbbing intruder, and she clung to him, breasts heaving against his chest, mouth glued to his, as they relished once again the perfect fit of their organs. Like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, she thought. We were made to be together.
Rachel lifted one knee, pulling it up to her chest, offering ion her foot as a handhold, while she wrapped the other leg around him for leverage. Her cunt was offered more fully now, split wider, the pink inner lips out around his imbedded tool, and he pressed inward to stuff even more of his marvelous cock up her willing pussy. Rachel sighed at the feeling of sexual fullness and overflow. "Nnnnnhhhh!!" she called, her head failing to one side, eyes shut tightly. "Darling, fuck me now! Don't waste another precious second! Rape me!! Take me!! I'm all yours… I'll always be yours… only… please…"
"Yes, yes, yes," he chanted back, wiggling his penis in her accommodating tunnel. Her foot rocked up and down, grasped in the cup of his palm, and he reached around her with his other hand to pet and caress the ripe curve of her womanly hips. Angling back with his midsection, he withdrew most of his cock from her, then slammed home to bury his bone once again. He held it in place there, grinding his pelvis against hers, cock shaking and quivering inside her body. "It's still good, isn't it, Rachel? It's still good for us."
"And getting better all the time," she moaned, tears beginning to well, in the comers of her big brown eyes. They were large eyes, soft and gentle as a dos, and the moisture spread a film across them so that they glowed and glimmered. Her soul embraced him as well as her pussy. Rachel pulled his face close to hem and she kissed him hungrily as he began to work his cock in and out of her wet, ready snatch.
Her ass bounced up and down in the warm ceramic top of the dishwasher as Jon put it to her, and she twisted her ass this way and that, swallowing his peter up the vacuum tube of her cunt. He stabbed her deeply, hard, fast, in quick penetrating succession, just the way she liked it, just the way she'd always liked it, and she rode his fuck tool, purring as her body moved closer and closer to the big one, the orgasmic explosion he could always coax from her with his beautiful tool.
"Harder, harder!" her voice sings out. "Fuck me harder!!" It was as if part of her was taking in an active share in the proceedings and the rest of her sitting back on the sidelines, watching, cheering on that other Rachel.
Jon did fuck her harder, his loins pummeling hers so that their pubic hairs mingled and his dark wiry strands absorbed some of the moisture from her profusely leaking pussy. When he was fully, completely immersed in her, his belly rubbing Rachel's, his balls nestled against the lips of her pussy, he had a kinky but welcome habit of shaking his ass and causing his dick to rotate that made her want to climb the walls. She clawed and clutched at him, nearly ripping apart the skirt he'd lied no time to remove. He'd have to take it off later, anyway.
Lipstick was on his shoulders, where she'd nuzzled him with her mouth in aroused gratitude that left ripe red prints bright on the clean white fabric.
"Uhhhh!!" he called suddenly, lurching against Rachel, driving his dick even deeper, at an angle which stirred new peaks of erotic response from her throbbing body.
"Oh, not yet!" she pleaded aloud. "Wait for me, ion!" At the same time she tried to use her pussy like a sucking mouth, sheathing and unsheathing his saber in the warm wet sleeve. Her body was not quite at the point of release, and she wanted more than anything else to come with ion, to feel his convulsive shudders against her own trembling body while they shared the sweet intimacy of a simultaneous orgasm. Usually they had no trouble, but he seemed to be racing ahead of her this afternoon. "Wait," she whispered, "wait, wait, wait."
Somehow he restrained himself. She felt the hardening of muscles in his shoulders and back, saw the strained effort obvious on his face, and she put her own face into the juncture of his neck and shoulders, dampening his skin and shirt and the tears of her need. Into her pussy he thrust then, again and again – perhaps a dozen more strokes in all. They were long, satisfying plunges, and Rachel moaned aloud with each of them, her cunt swelling and tingling like a tiny bell as release drew even closer. A breath caught in her chest, throbbing like an engorged heart gone mad with passion, and Rachel closed her eyes as they began to roll about in their sockets. Murmuring her pleasure, she bit softly at Jon's neck and allowed the climaxing contractions of her snatch to sweep and suck at the intruding barrel of his prick. "Now," she whispered, "now… I'm coming!"
"OH, GOD, RACHEL!!!" he shouted, thrusting his engorged cock deep, so deeply she was positive its tip must be wedged somewhere inside her stomach. She could feel – even amid the contracting ripples of her pussy – the shudders of his gushing cock as it filled her belly with hot sweet cum, and she clasped him with her arms and legs, locking her body to his as they shared the sexual bliss that meant everything to Jon and to Rachel now, as always.
She clung to him, moaning as his cock finished unloading semen deep within her clutching vagina, and her legs were awash with sweat where they locked him in a fleshy vise. His hands stroked love and assurance into her body, his feeling for her seeping through the pores of her skin.
His cock went soft in her, going limp with the release of his sexual tension, but her cunt held on, unwilling to let him go. It eased past the cling of her vaginal muscles, slipping free at last, and she felt his cum begin to leak from her pussylips as he pulled out. Still they held one another in that comforting embrace. She kissed him, flexing her thighs as his dripping sperm clotted thickly in her pubic hair, some of it oozing into the crack of her ass where she could feel it, hot and sticky, the evidence of his love.
"God that was good!" she said finally, unclamping her mouth. "But it's always good," she added with a pert smile, pushing gently at his chest, ion stepped back and took her waist, helping her down from the dishwasher. She went into his arms as soon as her feet were on the floor. Jon reached low, catching the bare sweaty cheeks of her ass, and he lifted her against him. Their loins rubbed and touched, and both their bellies were sticky from the cum that had seeped from Rachel's pussy. The soft stub of his dick scraped wetly on her belly, tickling through her pubic hair. His fingers slid joyously on the moist flesh of her buttocks, caressing, kneading, and she stroked him in reply.
"Oh, my God," she said, laughing self-consciously. "The kids… the neighbors… let me go, you sex fiend! I have to get dressed! Decent housewives don't run around naked in the middle of the day. And they certainly don't get fucked on top the dishwasher." She nuzzled him with her moist lips. "Don't you get enough in bed?"
"I never get enough of you," he replied, very serious-faced, helping her pick up the clothes he'd stripped from her. The kitchen smelled of sex, despite the antiseptic air-conditioning, and Rachel inhaled deeply of that scent, loving it. Her thighs were still juicy from the male fluid dribbling into their upper curves from her cuntal gash, and she stood up for a moment, working her legs together so she might bask in the pleasant abundance of his cum.
"Ah, Lord!" she said in satisfaction, one hand rubbing her tummy just above the triangular patch of reddish-brown hair. "I needed that."
She was a compactly built woman, about five-three, with a sturdy, well-proportioned body. Her tits were full, round, brown-nippled and, at thirty-eight, just beginning to sag. That was nature, and she couldn't do anything about it. Jon didn't seem to mind anyway. Her thighs were firm, as was her stomach, and her ass was wide but womanly-wide rather than fat-wide. Unlike most short, busty women, Rachel had, a definite waistline which flared out into caressable hips and further down, to pleasantly long, athletic legs.
Auburn-haired, above and below, brown-eyed, straight-nosed, red-mouthed, firm-chinned, nicely bodied, she supposed she was an attractive woman for thirty-eight. But the only person whose opinion mattered at all stood a few feet away, and he'd just shown her now much she still attracted him. For Rachel Messenger, nothing else counted. She eased her tits into the cups of her white bra, turned for Jon to fasten her up, and she didn't resist or chide when he slid his hands around for yet another caress of her breasts.
"Don't start anything you're not prepared to finish," she warned finally, as his fingers roved up and down her titty curves, tickling around the lace edges of the bra, then across the cups to tease the nipples lurking on the other side of that thin wall of cotton. The possibility of another fuck tingled in Rachel's tits and God knew she could dig it, but there were so many things still to be done before they caught the evening plane. "Enough!" she laughed, dancing away from him as she buttoned her slacks.
Rachel eyed him over her shoulder. God, she loved him! Tall, six feet and a fraction, and well built, they played tennis a couple of times a week, which kept both of them in fine trim – his hair was a little darker than hers – basically the same shade but just beginning to frost with gray here and there. She found the silver streaks attractive as hell and she loved to run her fingers through his marvelous head of hair every chance she got. Especially while screwing. It was fine to touch him any time, but during sex was far and away the best. At forty, Jon hadn't even begun to cross the hill, sexually, and their love life was fantastic. Let it, she prayed, be that way always!
"Where are the twins?" he asked. "Shouldn't they be here, helping you get things together?"
"Oh, that's not that much, to do. I washed the dishes, so they'll have something to eat from – though I doubt if they'll even bother eating, as busy as they generally are. Alex is helping one of his friends overhaul a motorcycle, and Amy had a date for tennis this afternoon. With that Carver boy from school. Really, darling – I'm nearly finished. All I have to do is take a bath, fix my face, and slip into my traveling outfit."
"I like your face just the way it is," Jon informed her. "And why don't we take a bath together? You could soap my back and I could…"
"I know exactly what you have in mind," giggled Rachel, "and we'll probably miss the plane, if you get started on what you're thinking about."
He smiled, acknowledging the truth. "Ah," he said, shaking his head. "Motorcycles… tennis dates… they're growing up, aren't they? It seems like only yesterday they were babies and you had one on each knee…"
Rachel closed her eyes remembering. It did seem like only yesterday. Where had the years gotten away to? The kids were eighteen now, and that meant that it was almost eighteen years since – no, she mustn't think about that. Now, now. She opened the curtains, allowing sunlight to flood the kitchen once again, and she looked out the window. Suburban tract houses, all of them built from the same blueprint, varying only in color. And in whether the two-car garage was placed on the right or left side of the house. And above it all, the azure canopy of southern California sky, white clouds seeming to hang motionless, the sun a constant yellow blaze. Day in, day out. Winter, summer.
God, sometimes she missed the snow, the rain, and the change of seasons. In Pennsylvania the sky was blue in summer, deep, and rich blue, turning by degrees to gray as summer deepened to fall and fall to winter. She remembered the heavy overhang of snow clouds, the blizzards that fell occasionally, two or three feet of snow blanketing everything. The Susquehanna coated with a thin sheeting of ice when the temperature dropped far below zero. And the magnificent unfolding of leaves, the bluing of the gray sky, as spring returned again. She hadn't seen a real winter, spring or fall in eighteen years. Only the monotonous year-round California summer. Turning to Jon, tears once more misting her eyes, she said softly, "Do you ever have any regrets?"
He moved to her side quickly, his arm gripping her quivering shoulders. Rachel felt his strength and love flow into her and she drew courage from him, and assurance. "Of course not," he said, kissing the nape of her neck. "What has there ever been to regret?"
This was a mood, that sometimes struck her, most often in the fading of sexual afterglow. Rachel's heart felt very heavy in her bosom. "What about the twins?" she challenged. "Some day they're going to ask questions. God, I'm surprised they haven't already! The Carver boy – Amy's been dating him for weeks. His mother belongs to the DAR and the Mayflower Society. Suppose… just suppose… that Amy marries him, and Mrs. Carter invites her – well, can you see our daughter investigating the family tree to find out if she qualifies? Can you see…"
"I see Amy as a perfectly normal eighteen-year old girl, and that's plenty of seeing for the present. For Christ's sake, Rachel, you're trying to marry her off already! Let's keep her as a child for just a little while. Okay? Besides… we've worked out our genealogy, haven't we? Your discovery as a foundling on the steps of an orphanage, foster homes, the whole bit. So let's not worry about things that will probably never happen anyway."
Normal? Rachel thought. Normal? Were her children really normal? They appeared to be, and of course they hadn't been born with two heads for any other deformities, and they weren't subject to fits of madness or epilepsy, so perhaps they were as normal as any other eighteen-year-olds in captivity. But their parents? No, no, no, no, no! she told herself. Listen to ion. He's right. Don't even think about what might or might not happen. Enjoy the happiness, the love, the affection, now. While it's here, strong, sweet, tactile. She leaned against him, enjoying the presence of his body behind tiers, the reassuring touch of his hands, the gentle kisses he planted on her neck and shoulders. "Yes," she said. "Of course. I'm so glad you're here, to keep me safe and sane and satisfied. Without you… without you… oh, let me go! I have to take a shower and get dressed, if we're going to catch that plane."