It was astonishing how good she felt, walking from the car to the house. Her step was light and airy, and she was whistling and humming a Broadway show tune. She couldn't remember what it was but it sounded good and it was really a gorgeous day, too, springtime in all its glory. If she could only figure out how to pay Tom back, perhaps it would be the nicest day of her whole life.
She was in the kitchen looking for a snack about five minutes later when she heard the doorbell ring. A traveling salesman? Probably. Shit! She closed the refrigerator door and went out to get the door, mentally rehearsing her stock of snappy putdowns that would get rid of whoever was come to bother her this busy afternoon. She opened the door and couldn't think of anything to say. Except maybe, "Ronnie?"
It was. Ronnie Spencer, the boy from yesterday. Joanne blushed scarlet as she stared at him, and she reached up to fiddle with her hair. She was at a loss for words, and she kept seeing flashes of that cruddy trailer and herself going from one to another of those three boys, not stopping until she'd fucked or sucked them all.
"Can I come in?" he asked. Joanne nodded. Maybe she should have slammed the door in his face? God, she thought as he stepped past her into the house, how in the bloody hell had he figured out where to find her? She had not been that drunk the day before. She hadn't told him her last name or anything about her identity.
"How…"
"Did I find you? Well, I told you that I knew I had seen you somewhere, right? And, in case you forgot, I cut your husband's class yesterday. There was a writing assignment in class, and I went in this morning to see about making it up, and as soon as I knocked on his door I remembered. Your picture. It was on his bookcase. Funny, I didn't see it today, but I remembered it as clear as day. And I didn't forget what you'd said about him, either, about how you used to fuck him. Remember? That's what you were talking about when they threw us out of the Blue Ball? So I put two and three together and came up with five. Your number's in the phone book, and your address, and I just walked over from campus. I-I wanted to see you again, and tell you I was sorry…"
"Sorry for what? Maybe I should apologize to you. I must have been a real spectacle yesterday, Ronnie. And I did leave you in the lurch. But I was drunk, and I was pissed off, really, and, well, I just wanted to do things I'd never done before, all kinds of things. I thought maybe it would make me feel better."
"I guess I blew it, huh, when I told you about your husband and Alice Custer?"
"No, of course not, oh, sit down, will you? I can't talk standing up. It's not civilized. Better." They were both on the couch, perhaps a foot apart, and he kept looking down at the floor, a little sheepishly. Poor thing, Joanne thought. He's really rather shy, isn't he? She reached over, took his hand. He looked up. "I'd really found put," she said. "All you told me was her name. And, thinking clearly, I should be a little grateful." She smiled, then, impulsively, she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth.
His lips were warm against hers, warm and slightly moist, and she thought they tasted rather sweet. The slightest tang of beer on his breath, and he'd eaten something with anion, too. She put her hand on his shoulder and her tits touched his body. She was wearing a pullover she'd borrowed from Alice to replace her torn blouse, but her boobs were bare underneath and, as she pressed against his chest, she felt her nipples engorging. "Ohhhh," she hummed into Ronnie's mouth, and she felt his tongue flick against her lips.
His hand came up, and he was touching her stomach. Why not? Joanne sighed, and she reached down, guided his hand up to her breast. He cupped her, gently at first, and then he began to squeeze, feeling her taut hard nipple. She could feel it, too. Her tongue stabbed into Ronnie's mouth and he began to suck it vigorously. Oh, hell, why not? she thought then, and her hand dropped into his lap.
Didn't she really owe him one? He hadn't gotten the chance to do her yesterday, not all the way. They'd been rocking and rolling in mid-fuck when his roommates barged in, and after that – well, she didn't want to think too long about after that. It was all in the past. Yesterday she was a woman scorned, a woman out to get sexual revenge. A little dank, too, and beyond the paint of caring. Now, she was kissing Ronnie, feeling him and being felt in return, knowing that her body was responding to him, that she was responding to him as well.
What could it hurt? After all, wouldn't Tom Hickman be pumping his dick into Alice Custer's sweet tasty crack in another two or three hours? God, she thought, amused, he gotten more fucking in the last twenty-four hours than I have in the last three months! And she was on the verge of getting some more, if that bulge in Ronnie's pants meant what it seemed to mean.
"Well," she said, "what would you say to picking up where we left off yesterday? Before your friends came along?"
"They're not my friends," he said stoutly. "We had a fight. I moved out of the trailer this morning. Later this afternoon I'm supposed to see a couple of people who have places for rent."
"Did you fight about me?" Joanne asked, squeezing his pecker bulge. He shifted about, looked uncomfortable, then nodded. "Oh, that's sweet! Do you know that nobody's fought over me since I was in the third grade? And you didn't come out of it too badly. No scars. Makes it all the nicer to kiss and touch you. Oh, don't be so skittish! Are you tight because I happen to be your teacher's wife? Well, I'm not sure if your teacher would care all that much, even if he knew you were here and that I was unzipping your pants and taking out your pretty cock and bending right down, just like this, and…" She had the tip of him in her mouth, and she knew as she sucked that he wouldn't get soft until he finished the job he'd started yesterday at the trailer – until he shot a thick hot load of his cum up her twitching twat. And that was fine with Joanne. Super.
When she was naked, standing by the couch, he put his hands on her ass and kissed her belly. His tongue flitted in and out of her navel, then licked gently downwards into the curls of her dark bush. She felt him touch her labes, but it wasn't the knowing, sure kind of licks she'd gotten from Alice today. Maybe it was true. Maybe only another woman could make oral love to a pussy in that perfect way. But as she clutched Ronnie's head, pulled him into her moist crotch, she knew that with a little experience the boy could do a damned good job all the same. And she was pretty sure where he could get the experience he needed. Why not? If her husband was entitled to a playmate, wasn't she? "Don't bite, darling," she whispered, stroking his head. "Just make love to me."
Actually, she was still excruciatingly tender-twatted from the lovemaking she'd gotten at Alice Custer's apartment. The slightest touch of his tongue on her labia reminded Joanne of the frantic eating she had both received and dished out a little earlier in the day, and she closed her eyes, seeing it clearly, the two of them rolling on the bed, mouth to cunt and cunt to mouth, sucking and biting and licking until the flames of orgasm fired up in each of their bellies and they smeared their wet juices all over one another's mouths. Afterwards they'd kissed the sticky goo off each other's lips, tasting their own cuntal secretions, and it had been so sweet, so lovely, she knew she'd have to do it again, and soon, and she didn't care if Tom found out. He'd lucked onto a good thing, but he couldn't hog it for himself. No, she would have to have her share of Alice, too. But that was for later. Now was for Ronnie.
He caressed her ass while he licked her twat, and she groaned. "What's this?" he asked, leaning around and staring at the scratches on her hips. They were reddish streaks, the claw marks Alice had made when she was deep into the act of receiving Joanne's cum. There were similar scratch marks on Alice's thighs and ass. Each of the women had kissed those, too.
"Nothing that you should worry about," she said, and she pulled Ronnie to his feet. His stiff cock was sticking out of his unzipped pants, and she stared down at it, lusting, drooling. She didn't know if she'd rather suck him dry or fuck the cum out of his rod. Ah, sweet temptation! She grabbed his pecker, squeezed it up and down while he stood shaking with his need, and then both of them were undressing him, pulling off his shirt and pants and shorts, getting him down to the bare essentials as quickly as possible.
"I think I want you to fuck me," she said. "You can even throw in a little rape, if that idea gets you off, mnmmmm? In fact – if you want me, you'll have to catch me first!" She pushed him and he fell back onto the couch, his cock sticking up. Joanne turned and ran, her bare ass wiggling, and she heard his patting footsteps coming after her in hot pursuit.
She went to the kitchen door, considered running into the backyard. But the neighbors would see and probably call the police. No, it would have to be inside. Damn it. If she ever got a house of her own, it would have a high hedge, protecting her from the peering eyes of busybody neighbors. And if she wanted to fuck her ass off in the grass, she could do it. God! She was just turning to take another course when Ronnie came up behind her. He grabbed her sore buns and spun her around, and they melted into an embrace, his bare cock hard and stiff between their pressing bodies, and she swallowed his tongue until she couldn't stand another moment of waiting. She broke loose from his lips, dropped to her knees, fed his cock into her mouth and began to suck him with the voraciousness of a hungry tiger.
"Oh, yeah!" he panted in delight, holding her by the skull while she worked her lips up and down on his prick.
She took him deeply, almost to the balls, and her mouth hungered for still more. She worked his cock with her fingers while she suckled his knob, and she was rewarded with the sweetest drop of early cum. It oozed from. Ronnie's dick onto the tip of her tongue, and she savored it like an oenophile with a glass of 1864 Lafite-Rothschild.
"Mmmmmm," she purred, swirling her tongue around nun, randy and ready, almost hoping he'd disgorge his sweet load of jism and fill her mouth with the delicacy of his semen.
But he didn't. His cock throbbed, and as it pulsated against her lips and tongue, she knew that she wouldn't be content until she'd fucked him, fucked him to a blistering orgasm that mingled both their juices. Both their juices!
She moved her thighs together, squeezed off her pussy, felt the abundant flow of viscosity from her gash. She was ready! God, she was more than ready! Joanne stood up, offered him her lips to kiss, and she said, "Let's do it right here. You've caught me. I'm all yours." She moved past him, to the dishwasher. "Here?" she said. "Can you reach me with your prick? Climb up here and open my legs and pooch out my little cunt for you?"
"If I can't, I'll get a stepladder," Ronnie said in a low, growly voice. He came toward her, his cock wiggling and red-knobbed. She spread her legs and he seemed to melt right into her. Neither of them touched his dick. They didn't have to. It must have smelled the arousal of her dripping twat. He leaned close and his cock jumped right into her open, wet hole. She put her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and she pulled him into her sex, and he began to fuck her, precisely the way she needed to be fucked at that moment. Hard and fast, his prick stabbing into her again and again and again, till her well-used cunt screamed for mercy but her body wouldn't give that mercy, because her body needed to be used, again, now!
"That's it," she said, "that's really it! Oh, Lord, Ronnie, were you doing this well yesterday when we had to stop?"
"Fuck yesterday!" he said. "Let's fuck for now!"
"Sounds – great – if you can – oooohhhh – deliver…"
"Try this on for size, Mrs. Professor Hickman," and he started working into her from three or four different approaches, banging Joanne all over the top of the dishwasher. She'd have fallen off but for the grip of her legs around his waist and thighs, for she let go with her arms and waved them above her head…
"Ofuckinle!" she yelled. "Hey, toro!"
His cock was a raging bull in her cunt. Not a big cock, but Jesus, it felt big enough to do the job and what else really counted? He did the corrido into her, out of her into her again, and he kept lifting her legs higher and higher, slipping down to let them past Joanne rocked back against the wall and her legs were slung over his shoulders and he had her lifted as high as she would lift and still allow his cock any penetration of her pussy. And when he penetrated! Sweet God! She wasn't sure she'd ever been touched in some of the places Ronnie Spencer was pumping his pecker, and she wanted, needed, to be touched there again. "Fuck me, Ronnie!" she whimpered. "Oh, really fuck me! Shove that cock into my belly! God, I can feel it coming up into my throat!"
She grabbed one of her tits – Ronnie was hanging onto the other one – and between them they managed to squeeze the hell out of her nipples. Her tits ached from the heavy sucking Alice had given them, and they felt so fantastic when they were tweaked now, a mixture of pain and delight that she found absolutely intoxicating.
Her other hand she dropped into her lap. She touched his cock, ringing it with her thumb and finger as it stroked relentlessly in and out of her twat, and sometimes she let her knuckles brush the nubby tip of her clitoris, making series of throbs and quivers shoot through her entire body.
"Yes," she told him, "this is what it's all about – what everything's all about – give it to me, do it to me, fuck me fuck me fuckkkkkkk!"
And like magic the quivering began inside her belly, no more than an inch or two front the depth his prick was reaching with its speeding plunges, and she knew that she had only to let go of her emotions, that she was almost there. Do it, she thought, do it! Come for him, Joanne!
And she came. In sobs and moans and gushes of hot juice around the barrel of his cock. She twisted and arched her back and writhed all over the flat top of the dishwasher, and he kept pounding his cock into her cunt, driving it deeper and deeper and faster and faster, and she caught a fleeting glimpse of his face, saw the agonized intensity written all over his countenance. She thought, Yes, he's almost there too, and he's going to spill his fuck juice up me, right where I want it, where I need it, to drown the blazing fires in my belly.
But it won't drawn them, she reminded herself. It will only intensify the things I already feel, and that's best of all, really.
"Do it!" she told him. "Come with me, oh, please come with me!" His face was twitching into the grimace men always got just before they blow their nuts. She'd seen it so often on Tom. His monster mask, she used to call it, and they'd laughed about that, back in the days when they still laughed, when he had time to be with her, to love her, to fuck her. Was all that finished? She wasn't sure.
And then she couldn't think about it at all because Ronnie was moaning and his lips were drawn back to show his clenched teeth and he was going "Uhhhhhhh…" and his cock lunged up her pussy tube and it began to shake inside her, and she could feel each blast of his ejaculation as it poured out of her belly. The cum, the sweet cum, the nectar of life, blasting into her womb, her pussy clenched tight around his cock as he fired and fired and fired, and she lost count of how many separate jolts he hammered into her, but there were a lot of them, and she felt his cum all thick and cloggy in her tube long before he went soft and slipped out of her. The jism, too, began to leak from her snatch, thick, white as milk where the big drops of semen clung to her dark-colored pussy hairs.
Ronnie slouched, stepped back, panting like a runner, and his cock hung limp and sticky, smeared in white, and she was limp and sticky and her pussy smeared with white, too, the white that ran from her slice in a little stream of cream. She looked down at his dick, at her hole, and she saw the fluids running out of her, wasting. She couldn't stand that. Impulsively, Joanne reached into her crotch, used a finger to scoop up the leaking semen. She brought her white finger to her mouth, licked it pink, stabbed it downward again and brought more of the sweet cum to her hungry lips. Ronnie watched, his eyes big, his face flushed with pride and masculinity.
It was an occasion for champagne, but the closest Joanne could come to it was a bottle of Rhineskeller Moselle that was cooling in the refrigerator. She poured big glasses for herself and Ronnie, and they went naked and satiated, for the moment, into the living room, sprawling on the couch. It was a little after three o'clock.
"It was good," Ronnie said. "I don't think it's ever been that good for me. I really didn't think I was much of a fuck, but now it seems to me that maybe I just hadn't met the right woman, you know?"
"Sssshhh," Joanne teased, rubbing her finger across his lips. "Don't get in too deep. Remember, I'm a married woman."
He frowned. "It's not fair," he said. "I mean, your husband doesn't want you. He's found another woman, and you know what they say, in the dark they're all alike? He doesn't want you and I do. If he's happy in the dark, I'd like to be with you. In the light. Do you know what I mean? I'm not even sure if I do."
"I think I do," Joanne said, and her eyes were sparkling. Wheels were turning behind those eyes, and she shivered.
"Wait a fucking minute!" she said, putting down her wineglass and turning to the telephone. "I think I have it! I really think I know how to straighten everything out! And preserve some of my own dignity in the bargain." She began to dial the phone. Ronnie was stroking her ass, and she turned to him. "Please," she said, "I'm liable to forget this brainstorm if you distract me. And if things work the way I'm sure they will, you'll have plenty more chances to touch my ass. Or anything else of mine you feel like touching. Know what I mean, hmmmm?" She smiled, and he had a lost, forlorn look about him, as if she'd just told him to put on his pants and get his feet moving down the street. Oh, if she got bleeding-hearted now, she'd miss her chance, and she couldn't afford to do that.
"Hello, Alice?" she said. "Its me, Joanne. Listen close. He isn't there yet, is he? Don't expect him till a little after four? Okay. One of your classmates just gave me an inspiration. Not to mention one hell of a fucking. But right now the inspiration is what matters. Tell me if this sounds ridiculous, but do you think that maybe you and I could arrange to [missing text]."