Danny objected to going to school. "No!" he yelled at her. "It'll be hours before Dad gets home! That's time for all kinds of games!"
"Dan Fredericson, you're going to school! We've both had enough for one session!"
He shook his head, childish stubbornness clear in his features. "Mom! You spoil everything!"
"I didn't notice you complaining about my spoiling things last night!"
"Oh, that was different! I mean making me go to school when you're right here!"
"Well, that's too bad. Maybe I need the rest. Now get ready, before I get mad!"
He grumbled and kicked at each chair he passed, but he got ready for school. When she went to the door with him, he paused as if for her customary "good-bye" peck. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, her hands resting against his chest, and he gathered her to him. He grabbed one of her boobs, massaging it eagerly, then pulled up her skirt and thrust his hand inside her panties and dug his fingers into her cunt. She squirmed wildly but without success, and when Danny withdrew his hand and opened the door, she was a quivering mass of confusion. She blew him a kiss and muttered, angry at herself for losing control of the situation and at her son for his impudence.
She raced through the most urgent of her housekeeping chores, her thoughts far from domestic routine. Danny's hasty feeling-up had thoroughly aroused her, and she was angrily conscious of the fact it would be hours before Art got home. She argued with herself.
"You've really made it," she said. "All the way. When a woman turns her own son into a cunt-crazy machine, she's hit the bottom!" She gazed through the window. Oh, God, Helen! Just what have you done? What's going to happen? she shuddered.
She drained the sink and dried her hands. Pulsing with raw sexual desire and seething with self-contempt, she rushed from the house. And what's the big fuss? she asked herself. You were afraid you were going to lose your husband! You did what had to be done, didn't you? Sinking to her knees before a rich-blooming rose, she inhaled its sweetness. "Oh, God!" Did I? How can the things I'm doing possibly give me the happiness of a secure home? And yet Art wants a physical woman! He's got to have someone who goes wild with sex hunger with him! And if I'm going to be that self, that's what I'll have to be. There's only two of me – the one Grandma made and the one I inherited from Mama and Daddy. If I can't be one, I've got to be the other.
She choked back a sob. It didn't seem right to cry about it. She'd been free to make her decision and her father had repeatedly sneered at people who spent their lives regretting their decisions. "Christ Almighty!" he'd always said. "When a guy makes up his mind, he shuts a door on the other alternative! He's got to live with what he took, and there's no damn excuse for looking at the bad side of that!"
There's no damn excuse for looking at the bad side of it, she repeated now. For fifteen and a half years I've fought with myself I've stamped out every dirty thought the instant I had it and frozen every wiggle of excitement. That's the way it had to be if I wanted to be like Grandma. All right! The dirty-minded, cock-hungry slut was the natural me all the time! Now I know that's what Art wants, and it means doing what my impulses say, that's all!
She raised her eyes to gaze at tiny, puffball clouds as they drifted across the sky. All I have to remember is that's good, now, instead of bad! Let yourself go, Helen baby! Do what you feel like, and the dottier the better! She squeezed her jugs and felt a surge of warmth, then grinned ruefully and shook her head. "No, stupid! Not like that!" She unbuttoned her dress from the throat to the waist and shrugged out of it, then struggled out of her bra and squeezed the naked globes. She trembled at the hot flush of pleasure. "Like this!" Teasing her own nipples, she flung back her head and laughed with joy. Her old self would hate the new, but life was going to be another thing when she could give herself without reserve to the sensations that arose around her.
And then there's Smokey! I'll bet he doesn't care if I'm tied up or not! And I'll bet it would be a lot better if I weren't! She swung her bra by its strap and let her dress dangle from where it had settled, riding low on her hips. She shivered with a sense of wicked pleasure at the risqu? picture she made, her boobs swaying, her navel exposed, and most of her lower belly visible as she strode towards the hidden corral and the frustrated little donkey.
She undressed and hung her clothes over the top rail before she went in. "The hell with the gate!" she exclaimed. More fun to climb over! She perched astride the rail for a moment, squirming at the harsh intimacy between it and her pussy. Then she scrambled down and dug her toes into the organic soil and crossed to the feed table.
"Smokey?" she called. "Smokey! Come on, baby! Come and get some pussy!"
Smokey shuffled towards her, his neck extended and his ears forward. She lay across the narrow plank, gripping its edge tightly and raising her knees. As the ass came closer, she spread her thighs and let him sniff her pussy. Her licked, his tongue rough and impatient on her cunt, and he probed deep into her snatch, making her belly writhe.
"Good! Good baby! Oooh, Smokey, that's scrumptious!"
Smokey jerked his tongue free and tossed his head with a snort. Helen twisted to look under his belly and saw his cock swelling and lengthening. The beast quivered and pawed the ground.
"Wonderful! Wonderful, Smokey! You know!" She lowered her feet, touching the earth with her toes, her thighs widespread. "Come on, baby. Up between my legs!"
The donkey snorted again and reared on his short hind legs, taking a series of short, clumsy steps to position himself in the notch her legs made. She caught his forelegs to guide them clear of her belly, then reached under him and guided his prick to her cunt. His rump prodded and the bulky cockhead began to work against the tightness of her cunt hole. She swung her legs around him and pulled fiercely, jerking herself onto the great cock and gagging happily when it crowded her guts.
"Ahhh! Ohhh, Smokey baby! Fuck me good!" She grabbed his neck and hauled herself against him, his bristles stabbing her belly and gouging her fits. She pumped her ass, bouncing on his enormous shaft, and he banged at her until she was battering against the plank.
"God, yes, Smokey! Hit me! Hit me hard, baby!" Her cunt flamed with hunger and gulped the grotesque feast it held. Helen let go with her hands and flung her arms back, letting herself arch backward over the edge of the table. Her boobs jounced crazily and her fingers brushed the ground. She knew she'd see the moving lump on her belly of the buried cockhead, if she only wanted to look. But she was starting to come, and she didn't need to see. Her thighs clamped convulsively on Smokey's sides, his stiff hair digging at her tender flesh like handfuls of needles. Smokey backed suddenly, as if startled at something, and she felt herself dragged off the table. She hung head down beneath him, supported by the grip of her legs and pulling herself against his belly, his cock fully implanted in her twat. She continued to pump while she came, and Smokey's hindquarters continued to oscillate savagely.
His cock leaped abruptly and his hot jizz filled her. He threw his head up and brayed. His widely planted forelegs shook in Helen's grasp and she sobbed with overwrought awareness. When the pulsing sensations at the mouth of her cunt subsided and the donkey's cock started to go soft, she loosened the grip of her legs and let herself slide off him to the ground. She rolled weakly aside, clear of his hooves, and pushed herself erect.
"Thank you, you walking cock, you. Thank you!" She went to him and hugged his ugly head, rubbing her tits against his face, then went to the corner of the corral and used the watering hose to flush off the thick cum that trickled from her pussy. She took a cold douche and got dressed, leaving the corral with a bouncy step and a satisfied smile.
"All right!" she called to the clouds. "Okay! You saw that! Am I dirty enough? Am I doing all right or not?"
She returned to the house and made a perfunctory effort to straighten it. But she was too impatient for Art's arrival to care whether there was dust in the corners or not. At ten o'clock she made up her mind to shock him. "Like he'd want to be shocked," she said confidently. She found the bra and panties Danny had brought to her the night before. She stripped quickly and got into the revealing garments, then waited nervously.
She heard Art's car, peeked through the window to be sure it was he, and went to the center of the living room. When Art opened the door, he dropped his briefcase.
"Holy Jesus!" he exclaimed. "Is that you, Helen?"
"Of course! Honey, I've missed you something awful!"
"Son-ov-a-bitch!" He sprang across the room and crushed her in his arms.
"Honey!" she exclaimed over his shoulder. "Honey! You left the front door wide open!"
"Oh, shit! What's wrong with me!" He swung around, holding her in one arm, and went back to the door. Her toes dragged on the floor and she clung fiercely to him. He teased her, holding her before him in the open doorway and fingering her twat through the slit in her panties.
She was torn between hard-dying inhibitions and her new determination to ignore them. "Art!" she gasped, her glance darting up and down the street. "Art, honey! My God, somebody'll see us!" And then, pressing her head back against him and thrusting her knees apart, "To hell with it! Let them! Oh, rub, honey!"
Art crushed her clitoris with his fingers and she thrashed in his grip. She heard the solid "chunk" of the closing door.
Art carried her to the couch and dropped her on it. She lay as she fell, legs a-sprawl and arms extended, and watched him through half-closed eyes while he undressed. When he pushed his shorts off his hips, his cock leaped, dark with heat, the head halfway out of the foreskin. She rolled off the couch to her knees and flung her arms around Art's hips, kissing the heavy prick eagerly. She ran the tip of her tongue around the edge of his foreskin and lipped the tip of the cockhead.
Her husband buried his hands in her hair and tilted her head back, gazing into her face with a puzzled expression. "What's with you, baby?" he asked. "I don't know where you hid, Helen, but you're sure as hell somebody else!" A grin grew slowly.
Helen trembled. "I'm me," she murmured. "I'm me, with the pretending gone. I'm who you really married." She pressed her boobs against his thighs. "Want to know about me?"
"Sometime," he said softly. "Not right now. I want to get to know you."
He loosened his grip and she put her lips to the nose of his cock. She sucked at it for a time and then forced her mouth over the entire head, biting gently on the foreskin and pushing it back onto his shaft. She played her tongue over his slit and listened to his breath hiss. To her delighted surprise, the sense of guilt that had nagged her for the past twenty-four hours evaporated. In its place, she felt a glow of pleasure in the knowledge she was giving him pleasure. And that's not just cock hunger! she thought. I'm dying to get this beautiful cock into my pussy, but that's a different feeling.
The appearance of tension in Art's belly grew more pronounced. His flesh twitched and he twisted his hips slowly. At last he caught her under the armpits and raised her to her feet. "Come on, baby. Time we tried out these fancy-pants." He glanced at her nipples, out-thrust by the upward force of her bra's half-cups, and his eyes gleamed. "And that titty-vendor," he added with a grin.
He took her to the dining room, where he pulled one of the straight chairs away from the wall. Seating himself on the edge, he drew her towards him. She straddled his lap, her twat hovering above his cock, and he straightened the rigid tool with its head nuzzling her crotch. She pulled the slit of her panties open and squatted, breathing deeply as she felt the knob of his cockhead settle into her gash.
"Mmm! Mmm!" she exclaimed. "I'm so hot for you, honey! God, this feels good!"
Her cunt stretched to engulf Art's cockhead and she let herself slip down the erect shaft. She lifted her feet, hooking her insteps over her husband's thighs, and rocked on his cock. He balanced her, his hands at her waist, and bent forward to suck at her nipples.
He pulled his mouth away for a moment. "If it's all right, that is," he said.
"If what's all right?" She shook with pleasure and made no sense out of his remark.
"Sucking your tits."
She whispered, "Don't be mean now, honey. Just fuck!"
Amazement flashed in his eyes. "Did you say what I thought you did!"
"Please!" she wailed. "Don't spoil it!"
"Sorry, baby. All the way this time, huh? Nothing barred?"
"Oh God, honey! Do I have to draw a picture?"
"No. Just wiggle that pussy a little harder, okay?" He grabbed her nipple again and began to chew it.
She levered her hips, grinding her pussy on the base of his cock and feeling the head thrust back and forth in her belly. Her hands fluttered. She caught Art's face between them and fingered his temples, rocking her head back and gazing at the ceiling.
"Honey! Ohhh, honey!" she exclaimed. Shudders of pleasure racked her body. "Whew! Whew! Mmmm, yesss!"
Art let go of her tit and grunted. "Hey, baby! I'm about to get it off! You think you can come?"
"Try me!" She forced the words past clenched teeth. "Oh, quick, honey!"
He arched, his neck on the chair back and his ass thrusting upward off the seat. She straightened her legs, extending them to the sides, and felt the hardness of his hip joints digging into the flesh of her inner thigh muscles. His fingers squeezed her waist while she clutched fiercely at his wrists.
"Ummmmh! Baby! BABY!" She swayed with the pulse of her lust.
Art uttered an explosive grunt and spewed jism into her horny cunt. She flinched at the violence of her contractions and ground her teeth together. When her orgasm released its grip on her, she fell forward on her husband.
"Darling! Oooh, darling! I love you! I love you so much!"
He stroked her back tenderly and touched her forehead with his lips. "Yeah. I love you, too, sugar. I've got to say, you're some kind of pussy today! What's the story?"
She told him of the childhood she'd kept secret from him. She mentioned the bad feeling between her grandmother and her parents and of her own worship of the hard-bitten old lady. And she described in vivid detail the crucial day in the wilderness area.
"Grandma died when she found out I was pregnant," she said. "There was only one way I could think of to make up for that."
"And that was turning into the sterile kind of bitch she figured a broad ought to be?"
"Yes. I wouldn't say it like that, but yes."
"You're not that icicle today! That's for damn sure!"
"No. Or ever again. I'm the other me."
"How come?" Art grinned and touched her lips with his fingertip. "Let me guess. Dr. Davis, maybe?"
"Ugh! Lecherous psycho! I'm never going there again!" She shuddered. "In a way it was him, though. He made me mad enough to start thinking. And Vanessa was there to think, too."
"Van. Yeah, she's got her feet on the ground."
"And her butt, with her legs spread, if a man looks interested!" Helen gasped, startled by her reaction.
Art pushed her away from his chest and stared at her. "Huh! What brought that on?"
"I saw. Art, I saw the way you took advantage when I was helpless that night. And she'd been waiting a long time! It was in her eyes!"
"Ohhhh!" Art whistled. "Things moved too fast for you!"
"You two moved fast enough! If I'd been able to think, I'd have thought the two of you had set me up so you could get together!"
"You mean that, don't you?"
Helen hesitated. For a moment she was aware of herself as if her consciousness were a third person. She felt the intimacy of her flesh with Art's and the emotional tension between them. And she had a weird sensation of clinging to him in some other dimension with slipping fingers.
"Art!" She heard the edge of panic in her own voice. "Honey, I'm sorry. I don't care about what you do with her. Just save enough for me!"