Babysitting

“This is a true story of the scintillating memories my first long-term girlfriend and I enjoyed during the months before we went off to college.”

We were both just twenty (birthdays only a week apart) and had been dating for three years. In that time we had begun babysitting for friends of my parents who had two daughters. The littlest girl was only seven when we started, but her elder sister, Heather, was a precocious fifteen.

Over the three years we got to know and like Heather, and I was particularly interested to watch her evolve from a gawky, awkward early teen into a lithe eighteen year-old, with a killer little figure and dazzling smile. She grew her hair long, something which my girlfriend, Susan, and I always remarked upon whenever we babysat, which became a habitual once-a-month when her parents treated them selves to a night out. By the time our last summer of babysitting came around, Heather’s hair had grown from a short crop to a silky dark mane which reached down to mid-back. She wasn’t far off leaving high school and looking to go to college herself. Being only two years and a bit younger than us, she’d become pretty familiar - as you do when you get over the early teens age ‘gaps’ which are basically nothing - and quite ’sisterly’ with Susy; meaning, of course, they discussed girly things together which us blokes had neither knowledge of or interest in. Bright green eyes, and finely-boned features had certainly made Heather come of age in a way that perplexed her parents.

Her dad always used to half-joke with me that he couldn’t keep the boys away and that he’d seriously considered buying a gun.

On the night in question, Heather’s little sister was well tucked up in bed, her parents out and not due back ’til the early hours. Heather was at a party at a friend’s house and we’d been told she was under instruction to report back for a midnight curfew. Her parents were still pretty strict with her and as far as I’d known she wasn’t prone to being a rebel so we expected her back on time.

By eleven o’clock, Susy and I had watched all we wanted to on Tv, had drunk most of the alcohol Heather’s parents left for us (a bottle of wine and some beer) plus some of our own vodka we smuggled in to keep us going, and we were feeling a little frisky.

With an hour or so to spare, I reckoned on getting some of my girl’s hot delights before hometime. Susy was a slim blonde with shoulder length golden tresses that had just a hint of a natural curl about them, an all-over light tan (good sunbed use) and a great pair of boobs – I loved her 36cs atop her slim torso – they sat very buoyant. She also had long legs which showed up superbly in a pair of shorts, and a delightfully firm ass – not boyish but just tight enough to stir the loins.

As usual, I made a move with some long, hot kisses and nibbled her ears – a favourite of hers. With the alcohol rushing around after our hormones we were in an energetic mood and up for a bit of devilment.

She tried the old, ’stop, we can’t – not here’ stuff but I could tell her resistance was low. Seeing as we had never fooled around while babysitting before, I thought the forbidden nature of it was definitely exciting her.

I put that to the test by challenging her to “Strip off for me here in the lounge with the curtains open. ” As we hadn’t bothered to close them when the night drew in, the dark windows reflected our shadowy selves back at us as we rolled around the couch, the Tv and ambient lighting of the room glowing against the pitch of outside. The room looked out onto the back garden so there was no passing traffic – a bit of a disappointment to me; the thrill of her stripping with an audience appealed.

Susy hesitated, but looked from the window to me with a challenging glare. She bit her lower lip and stated emphatically, “Right, I’ll do it. But you better get it out and let me watch you jerk-off as well.” I shrugged – no problem. But I was a bit apprehensive. I hadn’t really done anything like that with her – I know we’d been dating for 3 years but sex was mostly straightforward; the only time she’d ever seen me jerk myself was finishing off after I’d pulled out of her.

“I didn’t know you liked that,” I said undoing my belt with a smile.

“Sometimes. . .” was all she said, a bit sheepish, and quickly took a big slug of my beer.

“Hey,” I exclaimed – a striptease is one thing, but when they steal your beer…

“Oh, shut up and get hot.” She then gave me a hell of a buzz by flicking on another lamp - we’d been getting by with just two small ones and the Tv. The extra illumination – it was a tall standard lamp – made everything a lot brighter, clearer and real. I suddenly stiffened up pretty quick; in my pants that is; my nerve was fine.

I now got a great, detailed view as Susy flipped the Tv to some late-night music channel and began to undress in rhythm. Her tight halter top went first, revealing a bra that held those perfectly firm breasts together in a world-class display of cleavage. I let a small breath escape – it was always full-systems go when those beauties came out; transformed her from demure girlfriend to raring sex kitten.

She moved slowly, rolling her ass in her tight jeans, and uncatched the bra with one hand while stroking her body with the other.

Her beautiful breasts spilled out, those pink nipples hard – they jutted out quite far, about nearly half an inch; Susy was usually embarrassed about them but when she was really horny she’d display them proudly – like she was then, rolling each between her fingers, smiling a wicked smile at me.

I was transfixed, watching the light play on her golden skin. She snapped me out of it - stopped moving, and said, “Come on, drooler – your turn.”

I laughed, tried to undo my belt enough to get my own jeans down, got muddled, then decided what the hell – kicked off my trainers, socks and whipped off both my jeans and underwear in one go.

I sat back, t-shirt up about my stomach, dick pointing rock solid up at the ceiling.

“Wow” Susy said, both jokey and serious – I saw the glaze come over her; no result of alchol. This girl was getting seriously horned-up.

She looked from my dick to my eyes, all question.

I grinned and grabbed the base of my shaft. Then slowly started to pump my fist up and down.

Susy made a little moan and started to dance again. She undid her waist button and slipped a hand down into her panties.

“Cheater,” I smiled, loving every moment as she drifted into her sexual fugue. I’d never seen her so damn hot.

Then I thought I glimpsed something past her, at the window. I never actually saw an identifiable object, but just the shift in light against the dark glaze caught my attention behind Susy.

I squinted. But Susy swayed in front of my view as she danced. I turned my attentions back to her.

She turned away from me and wiggled out of her jeans. She kicked her sandals at me, laughing, pointing at my cock. I’d stopped wanking, distracted momentarily. There was a shine of precum over my swolled purple cockhead.

“Let it see this,” Susy said, shaking her thong-clad butt cheeks at me. She brought them close enough that I could smell her sex, then dipped down so her firm cheeks rubbed on my cock. I think she got as much of a sizzle from that as I did – she shuddered and drew away as I tried to pull her onto it..

Then she danced again in only her white lace thong, one hand down the front. I did my duty and jerked, careful not to push too close to the edge.

I actually heard Susy’s fingers squish into her pussy as she moaned and then said, “Oh fuck. . .I need these off.”

She whipped off her thong – no standing on ceremony – and stood still in front of me, legs parted shoulder width. Her pussy was one of my favourite things – a full mound which stood out from her flat stomach. At first she’d had a light downy brown bush but had come to favour shaving over the time I’d known her. That night, her normally neat, smooth, bald coochie – just usually a slit between her thighs - was swollen for fun, her outer labia open enough under their own excitement to allow me a view of her soaking inner lips protruding and her small clit peeking out of its hood. Her delicate flesh glistened with arousal and she could not resist opening up like a flower with her fingers and asking me in a breathless moan, “You like?”

Stupid question. I wanted to bury my face in it. But as I leaned forward she drew back and groaned, “Pull that cock. . .”

Language like that was not usual either. I guess the drink and situation had gotten to her. It certainly brought no complaints from me. I did as asked and she fairly pounded her pussy with her fingers. I always imagined her masturbation might be a gentle exercise but here she was standing before me, unashamedly spreading her pussy lips with one hand and thrusting juicy fingers in and out with the other whilst rubbing her clit intermittently with her thumb.

It was all I could do to keep from cumming.

She did, yelping, and bending over as orgasm took her.

I got the shock of my life.

The window. A face. Definitely. Just a white orb in the black night. But recognisable: Heather.

I gasped, but it was lost in Susy’s cries of pleasurable agony.

I stopped jerking my cock, eyes fixed on Heather’s. She’d met my gaze and we were both like rabbits in headlights – or in my case more like a horndog in tittylights. To this day I’ll never forget the tumult of emotions on her face – shock, guilt, and definitely curiosity, bordering on fascination/lust.

Then Susy dropped to her knees in front of me and engulfed my cock with her mouth. No surprisingly, I blinked, looked down at her lovely bow-lipped mouth and blonde head bobbing up and down my dick – who wouldn’t - and when I looked back Heather was gone from the window. I only saw my own reflection in a faded dimension, with the dark figure of a naked young woman knelt before it. Not a bad view, right enough.

I was breathing heavily, shock having the dual effect of adding to the horniness and also distracting my mind from the desire to cum.

In fact, after I’d reconciled what I’d just seen with some vague sense of morality, I decided it was a GOOD thing and thought what the hell, I’ll give the young hottie a show if she wants.

I pulled Susy up and made her clamber – willingly – onto my solid erection. I took my t-shirt off so I was as naked as her. She not so much started to bounce up and down on me as frantically grind her clit against my pubic bone. She was so wet her juices were flooding down over my balls onto the couch. I worried about stains, but only for a fleeting second.

I grabbed her ass with both hands, a flexing cheek cradled in each palm, and began to join her rhythm. I alternated between each nipple as Susy thrust her smooth full breasts across my face. Each budding nipple was like rubber, flexible and chewy. My attentions sent spasms of pleasure down her body. She started to come and come again, thrashing atop me. The smell of her hot flesh, her sex juices and her gorgeous banner of golden hair as it caressed my torso was overwhelming; I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer.

I told her so in gasps and she groaned back that I should get on top and finish both her and me off. So I kind of flipped her round, trying not to slop out of her as I got her lying on her back on the sofa, her feet spread on the floor and I was able to kneel on the carpet and continue to pound between her thighs.

Plunging into that tight, sweet pussy, gazing down at her shuddering tits and beautiful face creased in orgasmic delight was an unforgettable experience, heightened by the thought young Heather was still watching at the window.

I glanced round, hoping to find her enthralled by my thrusting buttocks but there was only the night looking in.

Heather was in the room.

My heart stopped. She was cloaked by the gloom just inside the doorway to the hall. The hall light was out, I remember – my doing to let the youngest one sleep tight. But the flickering light of the television revealed Heather’s gorgeous eyes peering wide and wonderstruck from the shadows.

I stopped screwing Susy, pulling out as I rose up to my haunches, not knowing quite what to say. I think I uttered, “Oh…”

I think Heather repeated it back.

I do remember Susy though, writhing around, opening her eyes expecting me to be shooting a load of cum over her but instead I was apprehensively gazing over her shoulder at the doorway.

“Andy?” she said – my name, yes – wasn’t really important up til now was it?

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” Heather said as she heard Susy speak.

Susy saw her. “Heather!”

Heather kept apologising. But her eyes drifted down to my cock, which had lost a bit of vigour. Susy followed her gaze. With this renewed attention, my dick engorged fully again.

“Let her watch if she wants,” Susy said in a breathless sigh, reaching for my cock. “I need more of this. . .”

I was shocked. My demure Susy? Prepared to have sex in front of a girl we’d babysat for 3 years? Well, technically we’d already been having sex in front of her, but not to Susy’s knowledge.

Susy read my shock/confusion. “Heather’s no blushing innocent. She’s held a few. . .Right?”

In the gloom, Heather must have blushed. She mumbled, “Well, I’ve had some boyfriends. . .”

Susy giggled, “Well when you lose your virginity properly at least you’ll able to say you’ve seen the real thing first hand before trying it out.”

Heather found this embarrassingly amusing and stifled a nervous little laugh with her hand. So that’s what they chatted about. Goddamn.

“Come on Andy. . .You might not get such a chance to impress the girls again,” Susy grinned and guided my dick towards her gaping wet hole. She wrapped her legs around my back as my cock head parted her slippery lips, just in case I was getting cold feet.

But I was over my shock and getting a real buzz from the thought of cumming in front of this young hottie. So I thrust forward with a grunt and Susy moaned, “Oooh, come and see, Heather…Come and see. . .”

It occurred to me then she might be getting as big a kick as I was, if not more.

I picked up my pace. Susy drifted back into orgasmic mode, her voice raising a few octaves as she vocalised her pleasure.

I had my eyes fixed on Heather who was approaching round the couch into full illumination. She was wearing her best party clothes - a vest top and short little white skirt. The little pump heels she had on accentuated her exquisitely shaped legs. I watched those firm thighs of hers slide ever so softly together as she brought her young body to within touching distance. She had a fuller curves than Susy, apart from her tits, but everything was ripe and toned. She was young-glamour-model fit as opposed to Susy’s athletic fitness.

Heather’s boobs were only an arm’s length away. She was fascinated by our union, staring at our colliding crotches. I was equally awestruck by those firm puppies and the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra – both nipples were showing their approval, fairly peaking the thin material of her top. They were smaller than Susy’s but only by a cup letter or whatever small size increment counted, I reckoned, and beautifully formed, symmetrically as perfect as I’ve seen – perfect teen titties one might say.

Heather’s mouth was formed in a small ‘o’ as she watched and heard Susy tip over into another orgasm. She saw me gazing at her; slight embarrassment took her again in that lovely innocent way she had – I mean, she’s three feet from me fucking my girlfriend buck naked, but she looks at me like she’d been caught dipping the cookie jar.

She bit her lower lip, smiled nervously and asked in a small voice, “Are you going to come, Andy?”

I felt empowered – the break and surprise had lengthened my stamina. I felt positively energised. And a little wicked. Like Susy had said, I might get only one chance. . .

I said to Heather, “Are you?”

She looked confused. She stuttered, mouth opening but nothing intelligible coming out.

I kept sliding in and out of Susy, talking to Heather between breaths. “you’ve been watching us screw. . .You must be turned on,” I said, grinning.

She looked both terrified and excited. “A. . .A bit. . .”

I took my chance. “Want to show me?”

Heather looked between the two of us. For effect I tweaked and rubbed Susy’s breasts and nipples. Susy was twisting with lust, and frigged at her clit with one hand while the other clutched the back of the couch. She gasped up at Heather, “Do it. Make him cum. Make him cum . . .let him see you. . .”

Heathers’ breathing increased noticeably in speed and volume and she shivered a bit, like her knees had suddenly gone weak.

Susy growled through an orgasmic rush, “Show him your pussy. . .Uh, show him your cunt. . .Make his cock shoot. . .”

Then she lost it, going over the top for what must have been about her half-dozenth cum of the night. She always got off fairly easily but never with such intensity.

I was feeling it a bit myself with the way Susy spoke to Heather and the rush of the possibility that was about to unfold.

I prayed it did. And it did. Heather seemed to release a long deep breath and used both hands to hike up her skirt. I was so close to a pair of white bikini-style panties I could see the wet spot in the shadows between her thighs.

I felt my own balls tighten. I was looking at a beautiful camel-toe sculpted in white.

I told her, “Higher. . .And turn. . .”

She lifted her skirt right out of the way, tucking it up like a belt round her midriff. Taut flesh, white lines revealed behind the panty perimiter as she turned like I said, just slightly so the lamplight showed me everything without hinderance.

“Wil you cum?” she asked.

“If you will, too,” I gasped as Susy squeezed my cock with her pussy contractions. I was trying to hold on, but I was fighting a losing battle. I sensed total defeat when Heather gave a little moan and reached between her legs.

She started to rub over her panties. I groaned and said something like, “Wow. . .” as she scratched at her clit area with one of her manicured nails. I remember she had a little decorative gem glued onto the nail which gleamed in the light as it moved back and forth, round and round.

Susy must have thought I said something else, like “now” or suchlike, because she hissed in a whisper, “Show him it, show that cunt to him. . .He’ll cum…He’s going to cum…”

Heather’s thighs parted as her knees bent slightly, as if a huge rush had knocked the wind from her. She cried, “Oh God,” and with her other hand wrenched her panties aside. I saw her pussy completely exposed: a dark bush trimmed to neat length so that while it completely covered her pubic area, it hid nothing. Her pussy was a pink gash, swollen lips soaking wet, and she used both hands to pull them apart, to reveal a pretty large clit – I hadn’t seen a bud quite that big and it being on a young hottie almost broke my dam.

Susy watched Heather, and squealed, “Yes, yes. ..Now shoot it over me, Andy. Shoot it!”

I pulled out. Susy worked at her cunt with both sets of fingers, dipping, rubbing, splashing juices everywhere. She was wild in her abandon, staring lustily at my cock as I wrapped my fist around it.

I looked back at Heather – a great view wherever my eyes went. Heather gave into her desires and copied Susy. It took my breath away to see this babe finger her pie. That big clitty was pinched and pulled, She squatted down as her legs gave into her own onrushing cum.

“I want to see your tits, ” I gasped.

She took one hand from her pussy and pulled at the front of her top. In her desperation, only one tit was freed, but it jutted out at me beautifully, rounded, smooth, with a perky brown nipple that was swollen to the max.

“I know, but you’ll shut up just the same when I say so. Be sure and turn your face to the audience. We can’t have them looking at your feet.”

With my lips pressed into a line, I turned to look toward the empty seats. My eyes landed where my family had sat so recently. “Was I there only last night; Mom, Dad, Sarah and me, right there?” The pain was such that I could not even answer my own question. I tried to turn my gaze to the heavens and perhaps ask why God had allowed this to come to pass, but even this I could not do. Constrained by Gino’s words, I could but look at the rows of benches, suffer, and weep.

Three hours later, I endured it all again, my agony magnified by the presence of a crowd that found it all so amusing. After the torture of the box, having Gino throw knives at me was a blessing of sorts. I found myself praying he would miss the balloons that surrounded my body and thus end my misery but, just as in the rehearsal, the blades flew true, curving to find their target no matter what direction he tossed them.

After we took our bows, I had some hope we might just go home, but I soon discovered whose job it was to clean the peanuts and other assorted refuse left on the floor by discourteous patrons.

“Good job,” the magician said when we at last we slid between the curtains. “You deserve a little reward.”

I closed my eyes and sighed. “I don’t suppose it’s a Hershey bar?”

Gino issued that subtle chuckle, the one I was already sick of. “We can get you one of those too, but for now to the dressing room. Take off your costume and prop one leg up on the counter just like before.”

My feet started carrying me toward the dressing room. “Aren’t you worried I’ll get pregnant?” I protested over my shoulder. “I won’t be able to fit in the box.”

The magician’s chuckle turned into a laugh. “Those ovaries exhausted their egg supply long ago.”

My brow fell. “What?”

“Better quit asking questions and … ”

My lungs emptied with a grunt as I walked into the edge of the dressing room door. Staggering back a step, I shook my head and clutched my shoulder.

“… and watch where you are going,” Gino continued in a tone that reminded me all too much of my father’s sarcasm. “A good wife doesn’t ask so many questions. Now shut up and do what I said.”

Under his leering eyes, I disrobed in silence. Once naked, I put one foot on the floor, the other and both hands on the counter top. Wearing that same sickening smirk, Gino dropped his trousers and moved behind me. I could only stare at the red eyes and pouty lips of my reflection while the magician stroked the rubbery head of his cock over my moistening sex. I closed my eyes and awaited his penetration, almost hoping it would hurt; but it didn’t even though he plowed the length of his member into me with but a single thrust.

My eyes snapped open. I grunted, then looked into my wanton eyes while I savored the fullness of having him inside. Grasping my shoulder, he began to fuck me in earnest, long, powerful strokes; nothing gentle about it. I watched as my eyes widened in time with his thrusts. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. I told myself it was heat from the light bulbs surrounding the mirror, but I knew better. Soon, my breathing came in bursts, my chest matching the bulging of my eyes and the movement of his cock within me.

Gino moved his lips near my ear. My eyes shifted from my face to his. His right hand left my shoulder, snaking under my arm to find my bosom. His groping was like his fucking- hard, urgent, primal. The warmth of his breath reached my ear a moment before his words.

“Repeat after me, slut. I will not masturbate without permission.”

I wasn’t sure what the word meant, but I repeated the sentence just the same.

“Go ahead,” Gino whispered. “I give you permission when I’m fucking you. Touch yourself. You know where.”

My hand slid across his groping fingers and over my tummy, then down to the apex of my crease. There, my fingers turned slow circles in my supple flesh. At once, my abused clit responded to their caress, sending tendrils of warmth coursing through my loins, and beyond. Breaths exited my nose in labored bursts. The muscles of my ass began to flex in a rhythm that matched the movement of my fingers. Soon all of my body quaked and relaxed in time with my fucking.

I swallowed as I recognized the hot tingling spreading within me, more powerful than any electrical current. “If I’m going to be tortured,” I reasoned, “I may as well enjoy what I can.” And I did.

An hour later I sat on the davenport and devoured the chocolate bar Gino had purchased for me on the way home. “Home.” I shook my head, loathing myself for thinking in those terms though one glance at my surroundings confirmed it was simply the truth.

I stopped eating and glanced to my body. “It’s you now,” I admitted with a sigh. “Your body. Your life. You better learn to make the best of it.” My chest rose and fell through a second, larger sigh.

My eyes again found the Hershey bar. “Him giving it to you doesn’t make it taste bad, does it?” I took another bite, confirming that it did not. “Maybe his cock is just like the candy,” I reasoned. “Yes! It’s just like that, a gift; separate from him.” My eyes widened. The ends of my lips curved upward. “It’s ok to enjoy it. You can like his gift and still hate him.”

Still sporting a broad grin, I moved my mouth back toward my chocolate treat.

* * * * *

Over the following few weeks my life continued in a surreal fashion, me serving my husband’s needs in both the classic ways, in the kitchen and the bedroom. Except it was often not the bedroom. He fucked me in every room of the apartment, save the one I was not allowed to enter. But that was in the evening. Except when we had a performance, he left me alone during the day.

I cooked and swept and scrubbed, but even after I had cleaned everything twice, I still had too much time on my hands. Finding I could still not open the front door nor go upon the balcony, I but stood and looked out the windows of the French doors. Hours I must have spent staring at the distant waves, wondering what Christine was doing in my body, and what my parents might be thinking of her strange behavior.

My new body exhibited some strange behavior of its own. My loins seemed always to be tingling, like a simmering fire waiting to be stoked. This stoking I did often with my own fingers, discovering I did not need a man to take myself into the realm of quaking pleasures, as I had come to think of it.

At the beginning of the second week, I made what I thought at the time to be a mistake. After several days, I forced myself to do something that seemed productive; read. One book beckoned above all others and I finished the massive tome on sex in but three days.

I had hoped to learn why my body responded to his touch in the manner it did, but much of the text focused instead on demographics and social norms. What I learned mostly was that I wasn’t alone amongst women in my lust for the feel of a man upon me and within me. Far from it, my desires were common, shared by most. Society may have told us we weren’t supposed to like it as men did, but our bodies knew better.

To my chagrin, I also learned in no uncertain terms what masturbation was, and in that instant, my own words bound me. After that, I could no longer satisfy my wants with my fingers; I had to wait for my husband’s return. Soon my heart raced and my sex warmed at the sound of the door handle in the evening. I loved the way he served my carnal hunger. And I hated him for making me love it.

After finishing the book on sex, I continued reading the classics, and also the newspaper. The latter garnered most of my attention, but even the death of James Dean and the Dodgers victory over the Yankees could not eclipse a tiny article Gino found one Friday morning.

“Look at this,” he said, sliding the folded newspaper across the breakfast table.

My eyes fell to where his finger tapped an article. My brow dropped with my heart as I read of the upcoming nuptials of Megan O’Reilly and Thomas Collard.

“I like how she’s already dyed her hair for him,” Gino added. “Although, I confess I did like her pigtails the way they were. Rather cute and innocent, but I guess that wouldn’t be appropriate any longer, would it?”

I barely heard him. It was the date, not the color of the girl’s hair that had caught my eye. “November eighth,” I muttered. “That’s barely a month.”

“Yes. Thirty-two days to be exact. Our dear Megan is moving fast. I like how the announcement doesn’t come from Megan’s parents.”

My mind flew to my family. “I’m sure my father is appalled. I bet he won’t even give me away.”

Gino chuckled. “Interesting, that. A century ago, most fathers would have been thrilled to have their daughter marry a successful businessman.” He paused for a lengthy, sarcastic sigh. “Ah, the good old days.”

My eyes dropped to the picture beside the article, the picture of me and an old man, both smiling. I looked away, my thoughts going to my family. A tear crept out, and down my cheek.

“Now, now,” Gino chortled. “You needn’t be unhappy. I asked Thomas not to wed on a Saturday. I knew you wouldn’t want to miss the happy occasion.”

With a gasp, my mouth fell open. “I don’t want to go.”

He smiled. “Sure you do. It’ll be good for you; help set things straight in your mind. Tell you what. Don’t make dinner tonight. Put on that red sweater and the tan skirt. A little makeup too. We’ll go someplace nice and celebrate.”

My lips set into a line. There was only one thing I needed to get straight in my mind; I was still Megan, no matter where he took me, no matter what he made me say or do.

“I know what you need.” He stood, and loosened the sash of his robe. “Lean over the table.”

Ten minutes later, when his body stiffened and he spent himself within me, I found a wry, satisfied grin on my face. For the first time, I hadn’t enjoyed it.

* * *

That evening, ’someplace nice’ turned out to be a Chinese restaurant in Flatbush. Though it was pleasant enough and was a welcome change from sweating in the kitchen, I had been expecting something more.

Afterward, Gino and I strolled hand in hand along the sidewalks in the cool of an early autumn evening. In spite of being so obviously accompanied, almost every man I passed gave me a look. I knew it didn’t help that Gino had insisted I don one of those sweaters like movie vixens wore. Some men but cast a glance until my eyes met theirs; others downright gawked. I confess I found the first few ogles a thrill; guys had never looked at me before. Soon though, the attention grew tiresome, even a bit scary. I knew what they wanted, and it wasn’t me.

With my eyes fluttering to the concrete, my mind rushed to the only boy who’d ever looked at me, Ricky. He’d always looked me in the face and smiled. My eyes moistened. He liked me. I knew he did. He had to. I clamped my eyelids closed and I started to ask for his forgiveness, that I hadn’t saved myself for him. Then I realized he couldn’t forgive me. He didn’t even know. I opened my now-clouded eyes. All Ricky would ever know was that Megan had married some old man.

“Unless I find a way to stop it!” My teeth found my lower lip. “Yes”, I determined with a puissant breath. “I won’t give up.”

“Wind the clock,” Gino instructed later as we settled into bed. “And set the alarm for eight.”

I rolled toward the bed stand and extended my hand toward the clock. “Eight?”

“Yes,” he replied. “No more sleeping late. It’s time for the next stages of your instruction.”

I picked up the clock and began winding the spring. Me eyes wandered. Though I hadn’t enjoyed my earlier fuck, I still found my body craving his touch. My touch would have done just as well, but this was now forbidden. Beneath the sheets, my loins clenched their want. I slid my fingers down, but they only got to my navel.

Passing a sigh through clenched teeth, I rolled and sent my hand to the genitals I was allowed to touch, his.

Gino grunted. His hand found mine and shoved it back to my side of the bed. “That’s a nice enough way for a wife to ask,” he said, “but not tonight. I’ve something special in mind for tomorrow and the waiting will make it all the better.”

I swallowed and opened my mouth to ask, but in that moment, he continued, “I grew up when women didn’t wear makeup, so I often forget how contemporary men like it. After you get dinner in the oven tomorrow, put some makeup on and some nice clothes too, just like you wore tonight. It’s time you learned how a good wife greets her husband when he gets home from a long day’s work. Now shut up and go to sleep.”

With that, he rolled over, leaving me with but the ticking clock and my own anxieties for company.

* * *

As instructed, I wore a blouse, skirt, and makeup when my husband arrived home the following evening.

“Good,” Gino noted. “Except you must meet your husband at the door. Let him know you were waiting for him. That makes a man feel important.”

I nodded, and walked toward the door.

“And say,” he continued, “something like, ‘Welcome home, can I do anything to ease your tension?’ ”

“Welcome home. Can I …”

“Wait,” Gino interrupted. “When you’re saying it, lick you lips and look to my cock. Let me know just how you intend to relieve my tension.”

With a swallow, I nodded, then spoke the words, licking my lips and looking to his loins.

“Very good,” he said. “Your husband will almost always agree. Then you come forward and snuggle your body to his, then rub your palm along his cock and ask him what he wants. Do it.”

I stepped toward him, then leaned my body unto his. Between our forms, I brought my hand to his member. He was already hard, and my own loins warmed and clenched their want in response to his.

I forced my eyes to his. “What did you have in mind?”

“A blowjob would be nice.”

My head fell to one side.

“You don’t know what that is?” he asked.

My mind reviewed what I could recall from the sex tome. Unable to recall the term, I shook my head.

“Good. It’s always better that way.” He strode past me to the davenport and unfastened his belt. Thinking to undress as well, I reached for the buttons of my blouse, but he stopped me. “You don’t need to take anything off. Just get on your knees.”

At once I leaned forward, coming to rest on my haunches. His hands moved to his belt and my eyes followed. My attention remained fixed on his fingers while he loosened his pants and freed his member. I inhaled a crisp breath the instant his rampant form sprang into view.

“Still have no idea what a blowjob is?”

The question snapped me from my trance. I looked up to his face and shook my head.

He smiled. “It’s the best way to relieve your husband’s stress. You’ll do it often, maybe more than fucking. Come here, hold me in your hand.”

I sidled forward and extended my right hand. Forming a fist about his shaft, I squeezed. He was hard, much like a broom handle surrounded by a thin sponge, but also hot in the way only a living thing can be. I squeezed harder and moved my fist, feeling the skin slide over his shaft within my grip.

“Nice,” he whispered. “You are quite the little slut already. Now, lick the side toward you, right along the bulge, all the way from my balls to the head.”

My face contorted. My lower lip fell. “Surely he can’t mean…” His acrid flavor assaulted my tongue. My eyes widened. I had already started!

“Yes,” he said. “That’s right. All the way to the top. Run your tongue all over the head, especially lick the hole, then do it again.”

“Lick the hole! That’s where he pees!” Before I had time to be revolted, my tongue was already there, exploring the tiny slit. I did it, over and over, licking him up and down, his shaft growing harder and hotter with each pass of my tongue. In spite of everything I thought I ought to feel, there was something enticing about feeling his want of me grow thus.

Soon his hips began to move upon the cushions. “Good,” he whispered. “Now give me a nice slutty moan when you taste my salt.”

“Taste his salt?” I barely had time to wonder what he meant before my tongue encountered a saline droplet at the apex of his crown. A moan resonated within my throat. Below, my stomach clenched its revulsion.

“Good, little slut,” he said. “Now go ahead, take my head between your lips.”

Before I could even think, I had done it. His thing was in my mouth!

“Yes,” he hissed. “Just pinch the head with your lips.”

I obeyed, clamping my lips about his rubbery crown and massaging it. Yet more of his flavor seeped into my mouth.

“Lick the end,” he said. “Get used to the feel of a man in your mouth.”

My tongue roamed the smoothness of his head, pushing at his supple skin, teasing his aperture, sampling the fluid it produced. Soon I found a smooth spot just below his cleft, one that induced both moans from him and additional seepage from his aperture.

“Good, slut,” he whispered. “You are learning things you will never forget. That’s the beauty of the human mind. You’ll remember how to suck cock long after you’ve forgotten all about fat little Megan. Now, take more of me in your mouth. Slide your lips back and forth over me just like your mouth was a cunt.”

I complied, of course.

He inhaled a crisp breath through his teeth, then continued, “Use your tongue too. Lick all over the end, and underneath. Oh! And watch your teeth. Cover your uppers with your lip and keep your tongue over the lowers.”

This I did, moving my mouth back and forth over several inches of his length. My tongue explored the bulge of his head, the folds of his foreskin, the smooth underside, all of it hot with his want of me.

“Don’t forget your hand. Squeeze me a bit. Move it in time with your mouth. And keep looking at me, just like that.”

I barely had time to comply before he dispensed additional instruction. “It’s called cocksucking for a reason. Start sucking on it as you pull your mouth back. Let me see your cheeks flexing in and out.”

At once, I started drawing on the outstroke. What had been but a seepage became a steady flow. But seconds later I could taste nothing other than his subtle saltiness.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “I can tell you’re already going to be a great cocksucker. Keep it up. Just like that.”

Hearing his praise, I felt my chest swell with a breath of pride. At once I hated myself for it. “What is he doing to me?” I wondered. “I can’t like this too!”

But I did. The subtle flavor of him touched something in my soul. The heat of him within my mouth stirred a similar heat within my own loins. Before I knew it, my hips were moving, undulating. My free hand fell to linger just below where I longed to put my fingers.

I looked up, hoping he would grant me permission to touch myself. Instead, one of his hands found my head. He wrapped his fingers in my hair and pulled, urging me to take more of him into my mouth. “I’m ready. Suck it harder. Faster.”

I had no clue what being ready meant, but I did his bidding just the same, increasing the tempo and force of my suckling. His hips soon joined his hand in motion, compelling my mouth to accept yet more of him.

“Oh, yeah,” he gasped. The force from his grip within my hair increased. His ass slid back and forth on the sofa, taking his cock with it, compelling me to follow. “Keep sucking. Here it comes. Lick the bottom as I’m coming, but as soon as you taste my seed, the rest of your mouth must remain still. Keep all of it in your mouth; don’t swallow or spill any.”

“Seed?” I wondered. “What’s that?”

My answer came in the form of a wad of goo deposited upon the length of my tongue. Unlike his previous subtle flavor, this was a sharp, sour, pungency; a taste that was no way appealing. My impulse was to gag, to spit, but my body obeyed his orders instead of my instincts.