Laurel Willis awoke early, as she always did. It was a habit with her, after years of sending the kids off to school. Her husband Sam was still asleep, and that was a habit of his. Her leg moved beneath the covers, bare and sleek, and it bumped against his hard dick. At least part of him was up early, she thought with a grin.
Well, he deserved to sleep a little. How often did a couple celebrate their seventeenth anniversary, anyway? And this one had been a corker. Dinner, dancing, and a few more drinks than either of them really needed at the Sportsmen's Club in Reckardsville. And ten the long drive to Lancaster for a night's shack up at the Columbus Pike Motel. Old memories, Laurel, she thought. They'd been there before.
Seventeen and a half years ago, to be precise, and it had stirred memories of her long past embarrassment when they pulled in last night.
Laurel was a junior at Reckardsville when she met Sam for the first time, and once their relationship had begun, there was no question of ending it.
Sam was a senior in business, preparing to join his father in the realty business there in town, and he was a college girl's dream. Gorgeous and lithe, even if he wasn't so awfully tall. But Laurel was just over five feet without shoes, and she thought their respective sizes were perfect mates. It was clear that he liked her, too, and they'd gone out the next night. Although she'd given him some encouragement just enough to keep him interested – Laurel was careful not to let Sam go too far with the necking and petting.
And he'd been quite the gentleman, too, respecting her wishes. But he'd also made a date for the next weekend and she found herself accepting with excitement. Two or three more dates and Laurel was certain that she wanted no one but this man for the rest of her life.
It was early spring, too cold really, but they went to the drive-in just north of town, and they watched a Doris Day film, getting more and more involved with what they were doing inside the privacy of his father's car. During the intermission they moved into the back seat and, when the second picture came on screen, they hardly noticed. By the halfway mark of the film, she'd been divested of her panties and Sam Willis was getting ready to insert his condom clad prick within her trembling pink cunt.
He knew she was a virgin, that she was making the supreme sacrifice for him, and he was gentle with her. His cock fumbled its way inside her gash she was pretty sure Sam hadn't done much fucking breaking her cherry. There was a moment of sharp, almost unendurable pain, but her cunt spread to accommodate the presence of her lover's dick and she found herself thrusting with him, riding the barrel of his pecker joyfully. The latex of his rubber teased the flanges of her cunt and there was more intense stimulation of her clit than she'd ever gotten with her fingers during virginal diddling. She came before he did, and when his cock exploded, the battering bursts of cum that filled the tip of his rubber sent her skyrocketing into rapture.
After that there was no stopping them, nor any need to. Sam was considerate enough to wear a rubber when he fucked her, and she loved him for his concern. The next weekend they collaborated on stores to deceive their parents and they set out to find a motel where they could camp fill Sunday.
They'd rejected all the motels around town. What if someone saw the car and word got around? Lancaster, though, was a different story. Columbus Pike was the ideal spot for a shackup. Sam could park in the back and not be seen from the highway. So here they'd gone.
And what a weekend, Laurel thought. They'd tried everything. They'd even dared to use their mouths on each other, and she knew she'd never forget the first time Sam's cum bubbled out of his throbbing cock and filled her cheeks with its viscous saltiness. Laurel swallowed it without thinking twice. How many times since then had she done precisely the same thing? Now sucking Sam off was like second nature to her, but she couldn't forget that first, trembling time she had given him a blow job, and it made her smile.
On Sunday afternoon they returned to Reckardsville, no one the wiser for where they'd been, and in three more weeks their engagement was announced. After graduation they were married.
And it was a good marriage, too. Both of them were pushing the dangerous age of forty but they took pride in keeping fit and healthy. How could they be getting older when they felt so good?
Last night they'd come finally to the Columbus Pike Motel for a nostalgic reunion. This was the room they'd shared on that secret weekend years ago, and it hadn't changed much. Neither had the Willises. There was no one around to whom they owed explanations, and they'd fucked their brains out, Sam rising to the occasion time after time.
How could his cock get so hard so fast and so often? Laurel asked herself wonderingly. Didn't his dick ever tire? Thank God it hadn't. She'd impaled her cunt on that sturdy rod of his with wails of acceptance every time it was presented for her approval and, look she could see the sheet tenting up now as his hard-on thrust up from his sleeping groin. Her hand moved beneath the sheet to clutch his boner, to reassure her that it was indeed real and all hers.
Sam's eyes fluttered as his wife began to feel his dick and he breathed a grunt as he awoke. "What you doin'?" he mumbled.
Laurel smiled. "Just touching you," she said. "I love to touch you. Did I ever tell you that?"
He caught her hand beneath the cover and kept it on his cock. "I think I want to touch you," he said huskily, awake now.
Laurel's eyes went innocently big. "You're a monster!" she protested with mockery in her voice. "I think you're absolutely insatiable. They should write about you in those psychology magazines. A satyr. Is that what they call it?"
"Horny for you is what I call it," he corrected, and he moved towards her, meeting her halfway, for Laurel herself was in the act of climbing aboard his body.
She surfaced atop him, kicking the sheet which tangled at her heels, at the same time lifting her crotch to receive the head of his cock. Sam's prick entered her cunt easily, and she slid down to take his cock all inside her juicy twat. "Oh," Laurel sighed, "that feels good!" She wiggled her hips to suck his rod in deeply, and her cunt seemed to mold like hot plastic around his dick.
He had a big cock. A younger Laurel had found his prick breathtakingly big, but after two children and seventeen years of married sex, her snatch had no trouble accommodating his tool. Still, Sam filled his wife's cunt with his dong, and she felt wonderfully stuffed as she writhed upon him. His hands clutched the flanks of her body, smoothing her smoothness, and Laurel went onto her side, lifting one leg high to give him better leeway into her cunt.
"This is crazy," she said. "It's an indecent hour to be making love. Why, it can't be seven yet."
"What's crazy?" he panted, screwing his meat into her eager cunt. Sam lunged with sure, loving strokes, burying his cock and jiggling his balls in the cleft of her ass. She moaned each time his prick rammed inside her hole, her fingers digging his shoulders. After a full night of their most uninhibited fucking in several years, Sam was still as ready to put the prick to Laurel as she was to take it. Last evening she'd come till her pussy ached, but this morning there was a hungry hole between her leg, one that needed a dripping breakfast of jizz to make the day worth living.
She worked her cunt muscles to make his ride worthwhile, massaging his dick as it fucked in and out. Now and then he thrust deeper than normal, bumping his cock against the end of her cunt, and Laurel wailed to feel the insistent pressure. They had a solid marriage, indeed. It was as good for them in bed as anywhere else, and she knew that she was a lucky woman. A quarter of modem marriages ended in divorce and there were reports that the institution itself was dying. Not for Laurel and Sam Willis, she thought smugly. Not for them. Sam gave a cry of passion and he rammed his spurting prick into her quivering snatch. Laurel's own cum boiled out to meet his and they shuddered together until the heat of the moment had left them glowing and embraced.
Later Sam lay on the bed, sheet tossed over his deflated prick, watching Laurel as she dressed. She pulled her panties into place, smoothed the nylon, then slid the sweater over her head. Last of all she donned her slacks, turning to her husband with a shake of the shoulders.
Laurel leaned close for a kiss and as she did, her nipples made provocative points in the clingy stretch of her sweater.
Sam covered one tit with his other hand, squeezing it through the fabric. "Honey," he said apologetically, "I wish you'd wear a bra more often."
"What's wrong?" Laurel asked. "Don't you like my breasts any more?"
"It's not that… it's… well, it's Sean." Sam appeared to be just a trifle embarrassed. "Haven't you ever noticed the way he stares at you sometimes? Like when you wear that white top the one that's so thin and tight. Hon, you can see pink through the material."
Laurel shook her head, making "tak-tak" noises at her husband. "You're nothing but a dirty old man, Sam Willis! I'm his mother! I nursed him from those very same nipples, and if you're trying to imply – oh, you're just making fun of me! I can tell! Besides, if you were a woman, you'd know just how confined a brassiere is. Thank God some girl finally had the courage to throw hers away!"
She waited a moment to see if he wanted to carry on the discussion, but he didn't. Triumphantly Laurel picked up the phone and called the desk. No, there had been no telephone messages for the Willises, and Laurel hoped that meant everything was under control at home.
The Hocking River used to flood parts of Reckardsville and Reckardsville University each spring until the Corps of Engineers stepped in and dredged a new channel for the Hocking. In the process a lot of private property was condemned and acquired by the state of Ohio, though not all this property was used. One house, for example, on what used to be Meigs Street was still standing, its windows long since broken out by vandals who had desecrated much of the building, but withal it was in good shape. Certainly good enough for the boys to make it their hangout.
There were mattresses in an upstairs room that they'd salvaged from the county dump, a cooler for their beer, a few centerfold pinups tacked to the wall. It was a good place to stay. Sometimes they even spent the night there, when they had nowhere else to go. But every time the boys looked around their decorated room, they felt a silent reproach gleaming at them from the walls, for it was here they'd planned to bring their dates and pickups for pleasant evenings of fucking, sucking, and drinking beer. So far, though, the only girl they'd managed to get inside was Timmy's cousin Marie, who would do anything but wasn't quite right in the head. And that cut into the fun a hell of a lot.
They were three, inseparable Punch Schroeder, his brother the Spider, and their friend Timmy Duff. They'd always run together, except for the two years Spider was in the Army, and they'd furnished this refuge with their own hands. And here they'd spent last night, brooding and drinking, tossing beer cans out the window to splash into the Hocking River. It was morning now, a chilly post-rain morning, though the sky was blue and bright to eastward where the sun rose out of the Ohio.
Punch's stomach was growling, so he opened a fresh beer to take the edge off his appetite. Timmy lay on a mattress, playing with his cock. He seemed to have a permanent hard-on and he was always jerking himself off. Fuckin' car smelled like a whore's panties from all Timmy's jism.
"Goddamn," Timmy muttered. "I'd been counting on sticking this up somebody's asshole, too. Guess it's goin' to waste."
"We tried," Punch commiserated, wiping beer from his lips. "Must've asked half a dozen bitches if they wanted to fuck, and not one of them said yes."
Not even Maxine, the fat waitress at the Blue Moon, out on Sugar Creek Road. She'd screw or blow any guy for a couple of bucks, but when they asked her, she only laughed and told them to get lost. Timmy bounced a beer can off her fat ass as she waddled away, but all that got them was thrown out on their own asses by a couple of husky construction worker types. Bad night anyway you looked at it.
"I need some nookie," Timmy chanted, jacking his prick harder. "Need some nookie real bad."
"Tell me if you find any," Punch said sarcastically. "I could use a little cunt myself."
The Spider sat on another mattress, his back against the wall, his Fidel Castro hat pulled down low and covering his face. Punch had supposed his brother was still asleep, but Spider flipped up the brim of his hat and his eyes were bright with nostalgia.
"When I was in Korea," he said, "we didn't fuck around with this nicey-nice shit. See a gook bitch with a wiggly ass, you just grab her by the cunt, drag her into the bushes, and get your rocks off." He smiled, remembering his Army days. Spider had only been a civilian for a few weeks and the old memories were strong and sweet.
Tim grunted as his cum squirted out to splash onto the dusty floor. He wiped his peter on the tail of his shirt, then zipped himself up. Spider crushed his beer can in a massive paw and flung it viciously through the window as Timmy panted in after-cum delight.
"The only way we're gonna get any pussy is to take it," he said, "Like men! You know what we ought to do? Same thing we always did over in gookville. Just go cruisin', and grab the best piece of pussy we can find. Like at the Pizza Shack or the Tasty Freeze. If she's good enough, we just [missing text]."
"Like that cunt we scouted last night?" Punch suggested. "Robin what's her name?"
"Fuckin' A!" Spider agreed. "That puss especially. Jeez, I can still remember the way those tits of hers swung around in that halter. Bet she's got more movin' parts than a wristwatch. Hot, too. Not like them gooks. You stick your cock in and they just lay there breathin' hard, like you're fuckin' a piece of dead wood."
"Christ, we could get in trouble," Timmy ventured.
"Shit, too!" Spider blurted. "Give some bitch a taste of what you've got in your pants and she'll be on her knees screaming for more. What's wrong, Tim? Don't you have any balls! You afraid to get your twat like a real man? Or would you rather sit around playin' with your dick all the time, like you do now?"
"Fuck you!" Timmy snapped. "I'm not afraid of nothin'!"
"So how do we do it, then?" Punch asked.
Spider flipped open a fresh beer. "Just like I said. We go cruisin'. Drive around town. We'll start early, so we can have a long time after to play, and we'll pick up the best piece of snatch we can find. Somebody really good."
"Like Miss Tits?" Punch suggested, snickering. "Right on!" Spider laughed. "How about you, Tim? You gonna come along or would you rather watch while we get some hot snatch?"
"Don't count me out," Timmy said. He had a curious voice, quivering and high-pitched, still changing. "I'd rather fuck a hot cunt than eat my dinner."