She fretted through a cup of coffee that cloyed the top of her mouth, rinsed the cup and put it away. Then Lauralee said the hell with it and poured herself a drink. Out at parties with her husband, she had managed to nurse a weak drink most of the evening, and only took two, at most. Now she didn't mind a jolt or three, to loosen things up; another surprise for Marshall.
Oh Lord, she thought; what a miserable, uptight woman she had been, clicking off all her little pat answers as to what was right and what was grievously wrong, and never imagining that she could be mistaken in anything. It was a wonder that Marshall put up with her for so long. He must have loved her.
Lauralee had another drink, sipping it slower this time, and wandered about the room, at last slipping one of Robbie's soft rock tapes into the deck. The primitive beat echoed a throbbing within her body, and she felt an anticipatory tingling, the rising of her nipples against the delicate, whispery material of her gown.
Marshall wouldn't refuse her; she would damned well see to that much. She would show him what a tempestuous, volatile woman she had become, demonstrate all her newly acquired skills in ways he couldn't resist. Then, after she had fucked him down to a limp nub, after she had drained the semen from his balls in the furious wildness she was now capable of, then if he was able to walk out on her he didn't deserve all she could give him, and the hell with him.
Swaying to the music, rocking her svelte hips from side to side, Lauralee dampened her lush lips with a pink tongue and waited.
When she heard a rattle at the front door Lauralee flinched and quickly finished her drink. A pulse hammered in her throat and she felt her tummy jumping. With an effort, she made herself be calm, even though she knew she didn't have any idea what she was going to say to Marshall. Maybe he hadn't been home; maybe Robbie couldn't find him.
But suddenly there he was, standing uncertainly in the entrance to the living room where he'd once watched ball games on TV and napped after a hard day. Lauralee's breath hung in her throat; he hadn't changed at all. He was still tall and wide at the shoulders, and Marshall hadn't put on a belly, didn't seem an ounce beyond his usual two hundred pounds. His hair was still light brown and unruly, and his hazel eyes were nervous.
Why, she thought, he's as scared as I am, and stood up to move undulating toward him, holding out her hand. "Hello, Marshall. It's so good to see you."
Behind his father, Robbie murmured about having to go down the street. He winked at her before slipping away to leave them alone, and there was a world of meaning in the gesture.
"Lauralee," Marshall said in his deep voice. "I didn't expect – and when Robbie said you insisted on seeing me…"
Warm and strong, his hand closed over her own, and Lauralee clung to it. "I wanted you to see ME," she said. "I've changed, Marshall."
His eyes swept over her long body, taking in the diapbanous negligee and the way it clung to the molding of her breasts, how it snuggled to her hips and dipped in beguilingly at her crotch.
"Yeah," he said. "You look different, somehow."
She led him to the bar and brushed her hip against his thigh when she went around to pour him a drink. "Do I look sexy?"
He nodded, then frowned. "But you always did. It was like icing on a cake, but empty inside; no goodies beyond the froth."
Lauralee leaned over the bar top and the gown fell apart to give him a good look at her breasts. "I didn't know, Marshall. Now I do. Here's to knowing."
Drinking hurriedly, he said, "I don't know what the hell this is all about, why you're coming on like this, and…"
She tossed down her own bourbon and slid back around the bar. Whipping off the filmy negligee, she stood with her legs apart and her arms out from her sides. "This," she said throatily. "This is what it's all about, Marshall – me. You AND me. Look at me; I'm aching for you; my nipples are so stiff they hurt, and my pussy is wiggling inside. I want to fuck you, Marshall – right now."
Stunned, he could only stare in disbelief at her transition, at the words she used, at the nakedness she had always kept hidden from him before. Lauralee moved to him and picked up his hands to cup them against her tits, holding them in place while her belly rolled suggestively and her mouth reached for his.
She pried apart his lips with her tongue, and ran it far into his mouth, sliding it over his own and clashing her teeth against his, mixing her excited breath with his gasp of shock. His hands tightened upon her breasts, and Lauralee ground her hairy snatch into him with savage, hungry arcs.
Hotly searing flames leaped within her, and she tugged at the man, yanked him from the barstool and dragged him to the center of the room, her hands ripping at his slacks. Marshall couldn't get himself together, but when she pushed him to the carpet and stripped away his pants, his shorts, her ex-husband's prick leaped out strong and thick, the rosy head glowing and blue veins bulging along the swollen staff.
"It's a perfectly beautiful cock," she breathed. "I never knew how lovely it was, how powerful and big."
"L-lauralee…"
She didn't even let him get his shirt off. Fiercely, she pried his legs apart and kneeled between his hairy thighs to bite his belly. Marshall twisted in surprise, and she took a good grip upon the base of his rigid shaft, plunging her mouth over the distended cockhead, sucking it along her flicking, coiling tongue, pulling it back to caress the velvet chalice of her throat.
Lavishly, she fondled that pulsing knob, bobbing her head up and down in a steady, lascivious rhythm. She felt this new-old prick responding, this wonderful hard meat she had never before tasted. For a shivering moment, Lauralee considered blowing him all the way, eager to know the spurting cascade of his semen in her throat. But she wanted to be screwed more. There would be time later to give Marshall all the hotly siphoning head he might crave. Lifting her mouth from around his slippery rod, she crawled astride his body, coming up on her knees and clinging to his pole.
"Now," she panted, "now I'm going to show you how I can fuck, baby. I'm guiding this big, sweet cockhead up into my cunt lips, into these hot lips that are wet and slidy for it."
Pushing the bulb into her labia, Lauralee gyrated sensuously, forcing her weight down upon it and knowing the sensation of the sponge-hard glans moving into her opening. It was familiar in shape and texture, but different now, strange and exciting because she wanted it, WANTED it.
"So hard," she moaned, "so good, baby." His upright cock slipped on up into the greasy clenching of her aroused vagina, and the satin glove caressed it, drew it full length, until her crotch came down upon his pelvis and it was buried to the stem.
Rotating her ass, churning her belly, Lauralee whirled upon the embedded meat, forcing the ballooned knob around inside her pussy, grinding the thick trunk against her inflamed clitoris and pumping, pumping. Marshall was gasping, and his hands fumbled out to find and hold onto the swinging cheeks of her trim ass. He was thrusting back, lifting it up into her, meeting her driving strokes with his own and being screwed as she had never laid it to him before in all their married life.
But before he could get too turned on, she pulled at his hips and made him roll over on top of her. Now, she thought dizzily, now it feels deeper and longer, and it's possible to get legs around him. Long and sleek, smooth and lean, her legs made a net over his heaving body, and Lauralee tilted them up as she went back upon her shoulders.
"Fuck me, fuck!" she chanted, trying to squeeze him ever deeper into the seething cauldron of her snatch. "Jam that meat hard into my pussy, darling – harder – harder! Ah, that's the way!"
Seesawing up and down, swivelling her hips and banging her greedy pelvis into his, Lauralee screwed her lover furiously, demandingly, wringing her juicy snatch around his pistoning club and humping him with animal hunger.
"Lauralee!" he grunted. "Oh baby – never before – ahh, I can't hold it back – your pussy is too hot and slippery, too damned good – all soft and gripping – uh-uh-uh! Coming, baby – I'm coming!!"
"Squirt your hot come into me!" she hissed, raking her clawed fingers into the cheeks of his ass and biting into the base of his throat. "I want to feel your semen, lover – oohh! Yes, yes, that's it – all bubbling and frothy, all thick and creamy – ooh! You're doing it, darling; you're pumping me full of your wonderful come and making me come, TOOO!"
His cockhead continued to flex convulsively as spate after spate of boiling liquid rinsed down her twitching vaginal walls and drenched her womb. Lauralee could feel his balls leaping into the cleft of her ass and hear his breath sobbing, feel his chest lurching. His ecstasy was her own, and she squirmed wantonly, voluptuously upon his spitting prick.
When Marshall sagged, all his power momentarily gone from his body and his cock stilled while the syrupy milk bathed it inside her caressing snatch, she cradled him in her arms and crooned wordless love sounds into his ear, punctuating them with dartings of her tongue.
An eternity later, Marshall sighed and said, "Oh damn; that was the finest piece of ass I ever had. It was something I always wanted from you, Lauralee – that fire and fury, to go with your gorgeous body. But I never thought it would happen, baby. What – how the HELL did you manage to change so damned quick, and so completely?"
Lauralee hesitated, grinding slowly upon his still-hard shaft, relishing the greasy, slippery feel of it. She had practically raped this man she used to be married to, hammered him and screwed him with feral savagery, and Marshall had adored it. Should she tell him now, describe what had happened to her through Bettina and that X-rated motel, the wanton scenes with their own son?
Later, she decided, and backed off his throbbing club, kissing his chest and licking hotly at each of his nubby nipples, biting gently at his hairy belly and sliding down, ever downward. There it was, sturdily upright against her throat, and Lauralee rubbed her cheek against the distended meat, exulting in the soapy residue that was still dripping from Marshall's cockhead.
Nibbling at the stem of his rod, she licked around into the wet hairs, and tenderly drew his balls into her mouth, tugging upon them as she bathed them with her actively seeking tongue. He flinched and shuddered, and she began to lick a tingling path up the length of his prick, tormenting the underside of the foamy glans with the tip of her tongue.
"Now," she breathed, "now I'll eat you, darling. It's something we've never done before, and we're long overdue for this. Umm – your cock really looks delicious."
His voice flowed down upon her. "Lauralee, are you sure…"
Then she gulped at his turgid cockhead, pulling it between her eager lips to cram her tongue tip into the sticky slot. She knew how to do this, and do it well; her son and Chris called her a natural-born cock-sucker, and she loved to perform the act, to know the private flavors, to feel a man writhing and heaving as she brought him wildly to a tremendous orgasm.
Concentrating upon Marshall's pulsing meat, she went to work, bumping the blunt glans tip into the ultra-softness of her throat, fondling the shaft with cheeks that dipped in and out, and always, always, her trained and highly educated tongue was busy.
His hands pawed down and tangled themselves in her hair. Lauralee moaned around his knob, picking up the rhythm through the bobbing of her head and quicker stimulation of her tongue. She sucked and released, tantalized and promised, her fingers deftly adding more arousal through caresses of his balls and the stem of his slowly churning shaft.
"Ahh, baby!" he gasped. "Oh Lauralee – I can't believe you're – ahh! Your tongue is driving me out of my head – darling, darling – quick! I have to pull out, or I'll let go into your mouth."
When Marshall tried to yank away his throbbing prick, she fought to keep it, to hold it prisoner, clinging to his balls and gobbling furiously, even ringing his club with her teeth in warning. Marshall was so new at this that he didn't realize she WANTED his semen to explode in her mouth and slide down her avid throat.
Jerking and wiggling, her ex-husband tugged at her hair, but the pressure building to a frenzy within his testicles was too much for him. Lauralee felt the thunderous release of his come as his cockhead went off like a blasting cap. His semen ricocheted within her siphoning mouth, splattering into her throat and drenching her tongue, so that she had to swallow time and again, in order to catch her breath.
Perfect; it had been a magnificent climax for him, she knew; he was still drawn taut in a form of exquisite torture, his body arched and straining. Even Marshall's skin seemed to be twanging, and Lauralee continued to draw upon his oozing glans, to lap for a final sweet droplet of slippery juice. She held to his prick for a long time, adoring it gently, tenderly, until the last waves of his orgasm subsided and the man fell back, panting.
Marshall's overworked prick was already turning soft as she allowed the knob to slide from her lips with a final kiss. She craved to do so much more to him, go all over every quivering inch of his body, fuck him from every angle, draw his head between her own thighs and feed him the flowing honey of her cunt. But the poor man was all pooped out, at least for the moment, shaken and surfeited by more aggressive sex that she'd ever shown him before, possibly more than he'd ever experienced from any other woman.
Lauralee smiled her way back up his supine body, lingering to nuzzle his chest hair, pausing to tease each nipple with her teeth before progressing to his mouth. Forcing her tongue between his lips, she allowed Marshall to learn the flavors of his own semen.
"I missed having your sweet prick," she murmured. "I just didn't know how much, because I was so damned dumb, Marshall. But no more; no more. We'll do it all, darling; I'll make up for all the pain I caused you, all the frustration."
When she slid away from him and climbed to her feet, he blinked up at her, his eyes still a bit out of focus. "I still don't understand how or why you got turned on," he said as she sway-hipped to the bar to pour them more drinks. "But whatever – or whoever – did this to you, I'll be eternally grateful."
"Good," she said. "I feel the same way, but I wasn't so sure about your reaction. You won't be jealous, or shocked, or disgusted, if I tell you?"
Marshall sat up, his sated prick dropping to one side. "Well, I flgure you found some guy who taught you how to ball, really ball. I guess I ought to be jealous of him, because I never could find the right buttons to push."
Lauralee tilted the bottle of bourbon over their glasses and hesitated, frowning down at the amber liquid. Marshall had his own ethics, of course, his own brand of morality; would knowing that Robbie was the male who got her going upset him too much? It was possible; a couple of quick and passionate fuckings might not change that. Her frown deepened, because now that she had Marshall back she certainly didn't want to lose him again. There was so much she could share with him.
A shadow moved in the hallway and she glanced at it, to see Robbie hiding there and beckoning to her. Composing her face, she passed the whiskey to Marshall just as he struggled erect. "Be back in a moment," she said. "Little girl's room."
Catching Robbie at her own bedroom door, she hissed at him. "I don't think your father is ready to learn who…"
The boy cupped her tits. "Wow; what a fucking you gave Dad. He was really shaken up."
"Robbie…"
He cut in on her. "I've got the others tucked into my bedroom; brought them through the garage, just in case. I figure we ought to turn Bettina and Jessica loose on him, too – with you, of course. You three hot cunts should be able to change his mind about anything. He'll need to catch his breath some, but after that…"
She kissed her son on the mouth. "You're right, darling. Especially when your father discovers he's been fucking his own daughter-in-law in the orgy. Marshall won't have a comeback then; he'll HAVE to accept the fact that you and I are fucking. Wait until I feed him some more booze, and titillate him a bit, then send them in to us."
Smiling, she went to pee and hurried back to where her former husband was sitting slumped on a barstool. He brightened and straightened up when he saw her still nude, and rolling her sleek hips suggestively. "Thought maybe I'd been dreaming," Marshall said, "but I see you're for real."
She poured him another drink and saluted him. "More than you know, darling."