Divorce, of course, was the only alternative that Ernie would consider. Even though I begged to be forgiven, he was adamant in his desire to end our marriage.
"How could I ever look the other truckers in the eye," he bitterly explained, "when I knew my wife was probably cheating on me while I was on the road. A man who can't control his wife is no man at all."
I tried to tell him that I had only been unfaithful because he was on the road so much and I was so desperately lonely for him, but Ernie had no sympathy for this excuse.
"I just want to be rid of you," was how he summed it up. "Right now all I want to do is to be able to drive my rig without having to think about what my wife is doing at home with any punk who comes along in pants."
"What about Susan… and the house?" I wanted to know.
"Tomorrow I'm finding the best boarding school I can to enroll her in," Ernie snapped with finality. "As for this dump, you can have it. I never want to step inside these walls again."
The days passed with excruciating slowness. Each twenty-four hours was like an eternity. I thought about going out and looking for a job, but I just couldn't work up the gumption. My self-confidence was completely shot, and besides I had no marketable skills anyway. When all the money in the bank account had run out and I was starving, then perhaps I would venture into the outside world-but now I just couldn't hack it.
During the second month of my isolation it all became too much for me. Without a soul to turn to when I felt the need' for human companionship, I became a masturbating wreck.
Around the house I never wore panties so I could finger my cunt on impulse. My thighs were always sticky with congealing pussy juice.
Especially on the weekends I would look wistfully out the kitchen window at the neighborhood wives and their home-from-work husbands. These guys were mostly balding and paunchy, but, God, how I envied the frumpy women who were married to them. Believe me, by the time it was spring, I was as restless as a jungle cat in search of a mate.
I realized that I had to overcome my shyness and establish ties with somebody or I'd go crazy. My next-door neighbors, the Chandlers, seemed to provide as good an opportunity as any to test out the waters.
One day, when I was hanging up a row of panties, the chubby middle-aged man from next door came over to say hello.
"Hi," he gushed, obviously attracted by the brief bikini I was wearing. "I'm Steve Chandler. How come we've never gotten acquainted?"
"I-I don't know," I said shyly avoiding eye contact and inadvertently looking down in the process toward the crotch of his plaid Bermuda shorts. To my shock, there was a significant bulge there.
He noticed me glancing in the direction of his tell-tale groin and started hemming and hawing even more than I had been doing. "I-I'm in insurance," he lamely informed me.
For some reason it made me feel infinitely better that he was so nervous. Unexpectedly I suddenly felt in control of the situation. A surge of unbelievable confidence pumped through me like I was experiencing an orgasm without benefit of sex.
"What else do you do with yourself besides sell insurance policies?" I purred, rubbing against him.
"G-golf," he gulped. "I-I play golf a lot."
"Do you ever fool around, Steve?" I brazenly asked him.
He was struck dumb. And no wonder, I was uncontrollably coming on like a whore on the make.
"Would you like to fool around with me, Steve? Want to fuck me right now?"
"Oh my God!" he gasped with disbelief. I guess it isn't too good for a man to have one of his teenage fantasies come true for the first time when he's fat and forty.
Frankly, when the color drained from his perspiring face, for a moment there I thought old Steve was going to have a heart attack before I got a chance to ball him.
He pulled through, however. I think it was my stroking of the bulge at his throbbing crotch that mostly did it.
All of a sudden I had his throbbing hard-on out in the open, and it was the only meat about which either of us cared.
Steve's dick was even bigger than I'd expected. I hadn't guessed they grew them this formidable in the staid suburbs.
"Quick, in my house," I urged him, yanking his prick. "I just made the bed and the sheets are all crinkly."
I efficiently used the trip from the backyard into the bedroom to strip the bikini from my body. When I jumped joyously into bed and spread my legs for a fuck, I was stark naked.
With his eyes bugging at my flexing, hairy snatch, and his mouth watering, Steve Chandler started removing his clothing, also. Of course, not being as slender as I, and so agitated that smoke was practically coming out of his ears, he was much clumsier than I in the task.
Quite frankly, as I've already suggested, Steve Chandler was not your body beautiful. With all the flab hanging all over him, he was more of a body bountiful.
However, in my lust-crazed condition, he seemed like a sexual superman. Anybody with an available cock between his legs was a Greek god as far as I was concerened.
"Sock it to me, Steve!" I impatiently urged. "Fuck me until it hurts!"
He was completely nude by now, and when he advanced toward the bed, the loose fat jiggled all over his torso. To me, though, it seemed like oiled, rippling muscles.
And, of course, the biggest muscle was between his hairy legs. The one true gem in his anatomical arsenal.
Jumping off the floor, Steve put all of his wheezing energy into a belly flop on top of me. As the breath whooshed out of my lungs from his impact, his hard-on whammed into my cunt.
Curling my toes, I gained imaginary traction for the digging in I was set to do. I was expecting a long, hard, grinding fuck.
Imagine my surprise when the son of a bitch came like a geyser!
"What the hell?" I blurted as his cock recoiled out of my snatch and spurted most of its premature goo all over my belly and tits.
"It… it's a problem I have," he stammeringly apologized. "Premature ejaculation. In other words, I come too quick."
My mind clicked like a computer, instantaneously figuring out his story. The frustration and anger I had felt immediately turned into compassion.
Sheepishly he nodded his head, looking for all the world like a little boy confessing his guilt to his stern mother.
He was trembling, making his outer layer of flab quiver like jelly. I stopped seeing him as an unlikely Greek god and started to regard him as a scared, chubby little boy. Let's face it, I liked frightening him.
"Maybe I can cure you of your problem, I leered. "It could be that you just need a little discipline. Perhaps a spanking."
"I-I won't do it again, I promise," he whimpered.
"Shut up!" I snapped. "I'm running the show here. Bend over my and knee take your punishment like a man."
He meekly did as I ordered. His bulk spread across my thighs, the cheeks of his ass rising like two overripe melons at a produce counter.
With its pinkly dimpled flesh and complete hairlessness, Steve's ass was like a giant baby's. He apparently hadn't developed a muscle other than his cock since infancy.
It was with great pleasure that I began whacking his butt. I loved the way its tender flesh turned crimson from my brutal slaps. For the first time since Ernie had moved us to the suburbs, I felt in charge of things.
While I was spanking him, I could feel Steve's cock hardening to full strength between his body and mine. Needless to say, the knowledge of this caused me not to pay much heed to his verbal protests about the so-called pain I was inflicting on him.
Then, right after an open-handed clout that splayed Steve's buns to the core of his crusty brown asshole, I received another premature surprise. Without warning, his prick lurched and suddenly spewed its second load of cream within mere minutes.
I coolly assessed the situation. "I'm afraid you're going to need a lot of work, Stevie."
"Do it-please do it," he whimpered.
"It's always a pleasure to punish the-cringing," I hissed, and then got into position for the retribution I had in mind.
Placing my knees alongside his neck, I straddled his upturned face. Angling my pelvis downward, I aimed my cunt right at Steve's gaping mouth.
"Have you ever heard of an eye for an eye, Stevie, to make wrongdoers behave?" I suggestively queried. "It means you're punished in the same way in which you offended. You made me dirty with your cock, now I'm going to return the favor with my twat."
Then I pissed on him. A golden shower splattered against his face, and then flowed in rivulets down his flabby chest. By the time I was finished drenching him, he was also crying.
"Oh God, I deserve it. I deserve it," he sobbed. "I've been so bad-so bad."
"Indeed you have, Stevie," I agreed, giving him a quick slap across the face for good measure. "But something tells me, despite your sniveling, you're improving. Ready, perhaps, for a real test."
"What if I fail?" he slobbered.
"You don't have the nerve to displease me," I chuckled. "You're my total slave."
I brought my loins to a spread position over his groin. Even though I'd hoisted my crotch nearly a foot in the air, the head of his stiffly regenerated cock was already brushing my pussy-lips.
Purposely I didn't lower my cunt right away. I wanted to tease him. Force him to be scared shitless of another premature ejaculation.
His lower lip trembled.
"Afraid you're going to come all over my thighs instead of inside my cunt?" I taunted.
I slapped him again, and dropped my crotch for the first few inches of penetration. His entire cock-head plugged the mouth of my twat, and he hadn't come yet.
Now I began wriggling my butt, encircling his prick with twisting motions. He panted.
Four… five… six inches were within me. Over half his cock. My cunt was clutching like a vise and he was still dry.
I would only be satisfied when Steve's cock was in my box to the hilt and he still hadn't shot his wad. When his balls were pressing against my labia, the time would be ripe. At that point I'd make him come all right-but strictly on my terms!
As inch after inch of his prick was swallowed by my pussy, Steve babbled with fear. The poor schnook was so afraid he was going to blow it.
"You're forgetting, Stevie," I reminded him, "I'm not that bitchy wife of yours. I want to see you be a man, not castrate you."
His dick was eight inches into my fuck-hole. It felt like I was sitting on a railroad spike. Before I was through I wanted it to seem as though I were sitting on a baseball bat.
"Hold on, Stevie," I me owed, "because your whole tool is going to feel the inside of a cunt for probably the first time in your life. Don't have a coronary on me."
Literally plopping on the rest of his phallic expanse, I finally took him to the hilt. Every inch of his enormous hard -on was inside my pussy. His nuts were rubbing against the outer petals.
"Now I'm going to teach you how to fuck like a man instead of an inexperienced boy," I said triumphantly.
I began grinding my hips, rotating them in a wide sweep. His cock must have felt like it was being torn loose from its roots.
"Move your ass, Stevie," I instructed him. "Lord knows it's big enough to set up king-size vibes."
When he didn't respond, I took matters into my own hands. Well, actually, a single finger.
Pressing past his cock in my cunt, I slid my right index finger up his flabby crack and found his sweaty asshole. Pulpy with hemorrhoids, his anus provided no resistance for my finger thrust.
When I was fingerfucking his ass to the last knuckle, I altered my stroke downward just enough to strike the knot of his prostate. It was easy to find-enlarged by soft living, the gland was the size of a lemon.
Well, with the kind of action I was giving him, you can bet old Steve moved his hips at last…
And his ass. And his thighs. His belly. And just about everything else about him.
But most of all his cock!
His huge, stiff cock vibrating within my tight fuck-hole felt like a giant-size tuning fork. Never had I enjoyed such friction from a fuck.
Most remarkably, he still hadn't come. He was screwing a woman the right way for a change, and holding the grand finale for the appropriate moment.
I was glad for him, but, of course, I couldn't show it. Obviously all of my power over him derived from fear.
So I slapped him a few more times, called him a turd, and spat in his face. He loved it.
I started to get down to the final business.
"Now I want you to come!" I sharply ordered him. "I'm ready for you!"
Clenching the sinews of my cunt into a noose, I yanked Steve's friction-producing foreskin all the way to the tip of his cock-head. Then I thrust back my ass and abruptly expelled several inches of prick.
Just as abruptly I recaptured it. The noise of pumping suction filled the room and drowned out whatever was going on outside.
Then I was out again. In again. Out again.
Fucking!
Bringing him to orgasm.
Steve moaned deliriously, totally out of control of his own body. His huge dick was more clearly an extension of my body than of his own during these electric moments.
Steve's jizz came just at the instant the smell of burnt meat filled the bedroom. By now the smoke was choking the place.
Then the sirens engorged the previously quiet spring afternoon. The hysterical screams of a middle-aged woman became simultaneously audible.
Steve Chandler's cum was flowing into my cunt while commotion raged outside. My pussy was awash with thick spunk, and climaxing like crazy.
Of course what had happened was that Steve's neglected steaks had finally caught fire while he was in my bedroom fucking me. His wife had panicked because of the billowing smoke and had called the fire department.
Long after Steve's coming stopped, the hiss of escaping liquid continued to fill the air. Fire hoses-drenching my suburban lover's barbecue pit.
"Get out there, you turkey!" I finally regained my wits. "Your wife's going crazy. You'll blow everything."
Sadly I watched his still-dribbling prick pull obediently from my twat.
Oh well, there was always tomorrow…
If that stupid jerk Steve didn't mess up.
After struggling into his clothes, Steve slipped out the front door, and then came running around the far side of my house with a garden hose he'd snatched in a moment of inspiration from my front lawn. "Fire! Fire!" I could hear him yelling, giving me confidence that we'd gotten away with it.
Certain that I had called the shots to perfection, and worrying about nothing, I got up from the bed and started toward the bathroom and a long, luxurious hour or so in a hot tub.
A crying teenage girl was sitting on the toilet seat, holding her face in her hands as she uncontrollably sobbed.
"Susan!" I blurted incredulously to my distraught daughter. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at your boarding school?"
"I got homesick and ran away," she blubbered.
"Why didn't you call first?" I asked desperately, wishing I could turn back the clock.
All of a sudden the tears stopped. "And miss this?" Susan said with chilling sarcasm, fixing me with an icy stare. I'd never felt so small.