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Subject: {ASSM} (REV) Manning the Yard Sale (M/F, masturbation, pregnancy, adultery)
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Date: Mon, 22 Jun 2009 08:10:02 -0400
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[Generously edited by CopyCarver from Literotica.]

My wife Susan spent all Friday getting ready for the yard sale. She
painted the signs, typed up the Craigslist ad, and alerted her
Facebook friends. She has a couple hundred of those, most her age, and
a fair number recent mothers or pregnant. I used to give her grief
about all the time she spent online, but her network would come in
handy for the yard sale.

We both sat in the living room. Susan folded and sorted baby clothes.
I watched TV. She had her back to me, and I noticed she'd changed into
an old pair of gray, thin, lounge-around pants. No panties.  She felt
more comfortable walking around like that. Her pert ass, not too big
but shapely and compact stood out like a round piece of wood trim,
only soft and rubbery.

I got up, put my hands on her waist and went in for a kiss on her
neck. She pulled away.

"Come on, Mike, I'm busy." she said.

"Too busy for me? Come on." I looked at her.

"What? Are you going to help?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Please, Mike, you wouldn't know where to start."

I gave up, sat back down, and pretended to watch the commercials.

"I'm going to keep the sentimental stuff," she said, and stroked her
short blond hair away from her face. She's very pretty. She had a
committed look to her. I felt bad.

We have two girls, eight and ten, from her previous marriage. She was
going to sell their baby clothes. She figured, why wait? We'd held
off. We weren't going to have any more kids. We dreamed about a boy.
We tried. She tracked her female cycles. Fertility nights loomed as an
occasion. Lingerie, oral sex, the works. She brought in marital aids:
oils, powders, flavored creams. She went out-of-the-way. Something new
every month. Where'd she gotten the idea? Probably the Internet.
That's what I thought.

Then a month ago she went to the doctor. The doctor ran his tests. She
passed with flying colors. Nature made her to have babies. My semen,
though, scored poorly. The stupid idiots swam in circles.

Just like that, the sex dried up. The Honeys, and the Dears, too. I
cut her some slack. I felt the disappointment, too. But that wasn't
enough. Two weeks ago, my sissy boss called me in. He smiled and
offered his apologies, anything he could do. All the usual crap. I
lost my job. Company right-sizing.

Shame and inadequacy came to live with us. It seeped in. I got it. I
couldn't provide. I'd never father kids of my own. I'd never get the
chance to get my wife pregnant, see her change before my eyes, see her
get rounder and bigger.

Susan's a nurse. To help with the bills, she started working longer
hours at the hospital.  She came home late into the night, sometimes
early morning. She said her line of work called for a greater level of
commitment than I could understand.

And now we're having this yard-sale. The girls were visiting with
their dad. Susan said this was a good time.

"I remember when Caroline wore this." she said. Caroline's our
youngest daughter.

"She was so adorable, and this one...Oh, I can't get rid of this one."
She wasn't talking to me.

"I want the girls to have these when they have kids of their own," she
continued. I turned off the TV, excused myself, and went into my
office. I listlessly read some of my books. I couldn't get anything
going, so I turned on the computer and watched porn.

"Mike, do you have any books you want to sell?" she yelled. " I only
have these pregnancy books."

"No. Nothing. Sorry." I clicked away my porn folders. I turned around
to the hundreds of books piled ceiling-high, all around my office.

"Maybe I'll look tomorrow," I said. I'd have to sell them, eventually,
if I didn't get a job.

I grabbed a bottle of whiskey, blew the dust off a glass, and started
my drinking for the weekend. I thought of all tough breaks, and when
things would return to normal. Little did I know.

It was past midnight and she continued folding and sorting. On my way
to the bedroom, I wrapped my arms around her waist and tilted her
head. My lips rubbed across her unresponsive mouth. She planted a
quick kiss, and went back to her business.

"Good night, Mike," she said.

I got into bed and fell asleep before she joined me.

---

Next morning, I woke to the sound of birds and children playing
outside. The sun warmed my face. I yawned and turned over. I
remembered her coming to bed. I'd put the moves on her, got rebuffed
and slunk back. Now, she was gone. I laid in bed, and drifted in and
out of sleep. Then I heard Susan speak from just behind the bedroom
door.

"Mike, do you know where you keep the big stapler? I'm going to need
it to hang the signs," she said from the living room.

"I'll have to look for it," I said into the pillow.

"Hurry," she said. "I have to finish setting up. The yard sale's at
nine."

I hung my head over the bed.

"Can you hang the signs?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Mike. Let's move it. Just do this for me. I wont ask for anything
else. You can have all day to yourself. I won't bother you, again."

"Okay."

I needed a shower, if I expected to get anything going. Why did I feel
so tired? I slid off the bed and trudged into the bathroom. I slapped
my hand against the wall in back of the toilet and whipped out my
cock. I shook it, and the piss flowed.

I ran the hot water, stripped off my boxers, and got in the tub. I
stood underneath the jets for a while, the water slammed into my tired
body. I tried not to think. I squeezed a bottle of bath soap into my
hands. It was minty and oily. I stood up straight and spat water out
my mouth. I grabbed my cock and squeezed it in a tight grip. The bath
could wait. I pulled back on my foreskin and let the hot water flow
around.

I quickened my speed and turned my head around my neck. I grabbed my
balls with my other hand, and squeezed my genitals together. I slowed
the pace. Relaxed into it, moved both hands up and down my eight-inch
cock. I stroked myself for a few minutes. Then, I felt it rush
forward. I felt the familiar start, the shiver, the tingling all over.
I clenched my ass and curled my toes. Muscles behind my stomach
tightened, and I fell forward a step. Fluid started from deep within;
flowed the length of my cock, shuddering nerves.

"Ah."

Three times. Streams of white ejected into the choppy ankle-deep
water. I ran my palm over the purple head. Ecstasy. A final electric
shiver jerked my body.  I squelched the desire to groan, and, instead,
tightened my face and banged the tiled wall.

I stood in that shower for a few more minutes, not washing or
anything. I felt the tension flow out of me. It would return, of
course, but for now it emptied out with the semen. Things were so
different a month ago. I didn't have to cum in the shower.

I dried myself and shook the hair in front of my forehead. I'm forty,
going on fifty. I dressed in a pair of jeans, a green t-shirt and
sneakers. Then, I went into my office, found my stapler, grabbed the
yard sale signs, and walked down a steep hill.

I found the perfect place for the first sign. Anyone driving this way
would see it. I pressed my forearm against the tree, and slammed a
staple-- WHAP -- right into its bark.

---

When I returned from assignment, Susan was in the process of laying
out the merchandise. I looked around, peered inside boxes, underneath
tables.

"Don't worry. I'm not selling any of your things," she said.

I walked by her.

She leaned in. "Mike, I need your help with more boxes."

"You're kidding. You don't have any more space out here."

She smiled. "There's more in the bedroom."

"Okay, but then you're on your own."

"You can relax, read a book, sit in your office." She gave me slap on
the back.

I found the boxes and pushed them out the door. With nothing else to
do, I grabbed a beer and went into my office. I sunk back in my chair,
opened a book, flipped on the computer, and did my best to entertain
myself. An hour later, around nine, people starting walking up the
driveway.

I heard the voices, mostly women, but some husbands and boyfriends,
too. My wife sounded cheerful and animated. The yard sale ran right up
against my office window. I heard them talk.

How much for this cookie sheet? Five bucks. Will you take one dollar.
No. I can sell it for 5. Any boy clothes? No. Just girls. Does this
really work? Do you have any tools? Anything you want to get rid of?
Anything you want to donate? I'm looking for a drill.

I had a hard time tuning them out. I kept obsessing about Susan
selling my tools. What if she thought those were 'ours'? After half an
hour of muffled conversations, I went into the kitchen to grab another
beer. I counted them. I only had seven to last me until I had a new
job. Susan's rules. We didn't have the money, she said and I agreed.
But I needed to drink. At my rate, I'd be out by Sunday. And man,
Sunday's when you really need it.

I walked out into the yard with my bottle and a book.

My wife turned around. "Mike, come here," she said. "I need to ask you
something. Don't get mad."

"What?" I asked.

The flat brim of her gardening hat covered her face.

"Mike, you remember Karen from choir?"

"No."

She cocked her head, hand on her waist. "She invited me to a get
together with the girls. It's a last minute thing. I have to go."

"What about the yard sale?"

"Mike, I don't get out much. You know that. This came up. I'll have to
leave in a few minutes."

"What? How long does the yard sale run?"

"Not too late. Four."

I stared at her in disbelief.

"You can keep anything you earn," she said.

"How long are you gone?"

"A few hours," she said. "The rest of day, I don't know. You know how
these things go. Maybe we'll go out for dinner, perhaps get some
drinks. It's just the girls." She arched her eyebrows and curled her
top lip between her teeth.

"Susan, this is not a good time for that. I don't know how to run a
yard sale."

"It's easy," she said and smiled.

She showed me the money jar and gave me a few pointers. Keep the money
in the house. Let them browse. Don't talk too much.

She went inside. When she came out, for no good reason that I could
see, she'd changed her clothes. She put on a tight, form revealing
yellow summer dress. I'd never seen her wear that. She'd imposed a
moratorium on spending. How'd she buy it, and how'd she keep it
hidden?

She rushed into the car, and without another word, drove away.

Crap.

I had a good mind to wrap it up. But then I'd have to deal with angry
pregnant women, and with Susan. I refilled my beer and sat out under
the shade of a large avocado tree.

It wasn't long before I had my first customer.

A tall brunette rummaged through a rack of clothes at the edge of the
driveway. I'd missed her coming over. Probably a neighbor.

She had on a white tank top and a pair of tight butt-cut lemon yellow
shorts. They barely contained her ass. I kept looking. She stood a
little taller than my wife, not quite so thin, and her legs were
fuller. I stared at her muscular, bronzed legs.

Then she turned around. She wore a pair of expensive looking brown
sunglasses. She held a hanger with a pair of draped pants next to her
red neck.

"How much are these capris?" she asked. Her glossy lips pressed into a
hard smirk.

I knew the ones. I looked at her shapely legs and back at her face.

"Those aren't going to fit you," I said.

She looked at me hard. "They're not for me. They're for my daughter."

My face pulled back in embarrassment. I looked along the fence for
prices. Surely, Susan had written down prices somewhere.

Women's tops and bottoms, five dollars. "They're five," I said.

She lifted the hanger above her head. "They're a little frayed. I
don't know, I'll give you three."

"I don't know," I said.

She arched her eyebrows above her glasses.

I rubbed my head and smiled. "Okay, three."

She gave me a bunch of crumpled bills, and didn't say a thank you or
anything, just pranced away. Her ass slammed up and down. Another
happy customer. Her sandals shuffled vigorously across the driveway. I
heard a door shut, the engine start and a gold plated, late model BMW
speed away.

I drank down my whole beer after that.

Pretty soon, I had more customers come over. After my incident with
Ms. Capri, most of the women were either pregnant or had young kids.
Word must have gotten around. They came by themselves, sometimes with
their families or a kid or two. Then they started coming in droves. I
don't know. They looked like a herd, full of chatter and constantly
moving. Big round happy women.

I peeped behind my book. I admired their bellies, their enlarged
breasts. Most of them were a little older, more than thirty. They
didn't dress like it, though. If anything, they dressed up, wore more
revealing clothes, tops and stretch pants that accentuated their
conditions. It was like a parade.

Some of them hung around quite a while. I brought out some lawn chairs
I offered them something to eat, graham crackers and water. I was
getting the hang of this. The hours went by. The money jar filled with
dollars. I sold a lot of our knickknacks, as well as some stuff from
Susan's previous life, photo frames, kitchen appliances, things I'd
never seen.

This was easier than I thought. Eventually, the time came to shut it
down.

Just as I was about to take down the signs and move the remaining
merchandise up against the house, I had my last customer.

She must have been in her early twenties. She wore a pair of designer
sunglasses and a blue sweat outfit-- in this heat. She was a brunette,
petite, and small featured. Her stomach showed a small bump, like a
small beach ball. She drifted from table to table. She kept rubbing
her stomach and smiling. When she spoke to me, her speech was slow and
deliberate.

"Where are the newborn?" She wasn't from around here.

I asked her where she was from.

She smiled and told me she was Armenian. She flitted her tongue
against her top teeth when she spoke. She had a smooth curvy face, the
slightest roundness under her chin. She was beautiful. I imagined
Susan like this. She would have looked just like her, same build,
different hair color, but just as trim and slight, like her. Her name
was Lucine. I told her it was a pretty name. She smiled a wide
unselfconscious smile, full of teeth and pink cheeks.

She built a little pile of clothes. She asked me a few questions. How
many girls I had. How long I'd lived here, what my wife was doing. I
told her. She half smirked. Shook her head.

Lucine had married a young man from her country. This was her first
child. But her husband wasn't around. His mother had died and he'd
gone back home. He was supposed to have returned after two weeks, long
enough for a service and to spend time with the family. Two weeks
turned into two months. She called his mother's home. Emailed him. She
hadn't heard a word since he'd left.

I don't know why she chose to tell me all this. I couldn't guess.
Maybe she didn't have any friends. Maybe she was all alone.

She bought a small bundle of clothes. She handed me the money. Her
fingers rubbed my palm. I looked at her, she smiled. She turned and
walked away. Her ass was pert, her legs tight, and a fair amount of
baby fat rolled under her legs. My eyes glued to her backside. She
looked behind her. She saw that I was watching her. I smiled and
nodded. She winked, stuck her ass out, slowed down, and with a few
steps, she gave me the best walk I'd ever seen.

She drove away. I walked to the fence and gazed into the end of the
street.

"Nice girl, Mike. Do you want to follow her?"

Misty.

"Hi, Misty. A guy can look, can't he?"

She walked from across the street. Misty's my neighbor, also a very
good friend of mine.

"Sure, looking's okay," she said.

Misty's pregnant, with two girls in her belly, as it turned out. She
was huge.

"I was wondering when you were coming over," I said.

She wore a black polyester outfit with thin white stripes that ran
down the sides of the jacket and pants. Somehow she'd managed to zip
the jacket in front of her stomach. She draped the elastic hem just
below her navel.

"You looking for some clothes? We got a few. I can cut you a deal.
Good neighbor discount."

"Got any pants that'll fit me?" She brushed her hair with her hands.
Her wavy brown hair fell halfway down her back.

I looked her over. "Maybe," I said. "How much longer, Misty? When are
you done?"

She laid her hands on her stomach and rubbed the sides. "I'm nine
months, so any time. It could happen right here in your driveway."

"Wow. Should you even be walking?"

"I could sit down, if you have a chair." She walked up to the gate and
I noticed she had two black bricks dangling by some wires like dead
rats. "Can I ask you something? This should be easy for you."

"Sure," I said.

"Thanks, Mike. Hopefully, this won't take long." She sat down.

She told me about her problems replacing some old fluorescent lights.

"Yeah, you got the right one. You just need to wire them differently.
This one's the old style. Have Tim come over. I'll make sure to
explain it right."

I handed her the transformer.

My dull eyes went straight to her tits. Her white shirt bunched and
creased obscenely at her large breasts. I followed her legs. They were
shapely below her hips, just rounder, fatter. Her legs had gotten
thicker around her thighs. Sitting down, her thighs spread out like
dough. The rest of her was plump, too. She looked hot and ready.

"My husband can't understand what to do," she said.

"I'll talk to him. It's not that hard, but I know how awkward these
get."

"You can tell me, Mike. Tim's not home right now. He's going to be out
for a while. Probably won't return for another few hours. In the
meantime, I have a dark kitchen, and no way to feed me and the baby."
She fluttered her eyes.

I smiled back. "Come inside the house. Yard sale's done. You can make
yourself a sandwich. Eat anything you want."

I pushed open the door. She walked in. Her ass rolled under the tight
pants.

"I hope you're not climbing ladders on your own, Misty."

She didn't answer. She sat down on the nearest sofa seat in the living
room. I realized she was doing this work by herself.

I said, "I'll wait for Tim to come back. Misty. I wouldn't feel right
if you fell, hurt yourself."

She smiled, shook her head and once the act was done, she frowned
weekly. That's when she started to cry.

"Misty, Misty," I said. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

She looked down at her stomach, hair in front of her face, and avoided
my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mike. It's nothing you said. I understand. I'm sorry." She
turned and started to get up.

"Misty, wait. I'll do the wiring for you. Just flip off the breaker
for the kitchen and I'll be right over."

She looked at me with streams of water pouring down her red face. She
smiled and shook her head. "It's not that." She looked at me with a
pained look.

"This isn't about the lights, Mike. Can I tell you something?" she
asked. "I don't know who else to talk to."

She laid into me about her problems with Tim.

"I shouldn't be saying anything, Mike. I'm just so alone. No one to
talk to. What would my girlfriends say? That I was crazy. A man will
do these things." She opened her huge brown eyes at me. Her forehead
creased. "He's cheating on me, Mike."

She paused.

"I'm so sorry, Misty."

"Can I talk to you, Mike? Do you mind?"

"Go ahead. Get it out."

"He has another woman. He's visiting her, right now. I know it. I've
read some of their emails. He knows that I know. Her name's Heidi.
They work together." She breathed out. "I even think I've met her,
shook her hand. She's young, tall, pretty. He'll stay with her all
night. He doesn't even excuse himself. Just comes back whenever he
feels like it."

She looked at me for permission to continue. I nodded.

"He's probably fucking that Scandinavian bitch, right now," she said.
"He hasn't touched me in seven months. You think that's right, Mike?
What kind of man does that? I'm carrying his baby, for fuck's sake. He
doesn't even look at me. He doesn't like how this pregnancy's changed
me. He needs someone with a perfect body, young and flawless."

"I'm sorry, Misty. That's horrible. There's no excuse. A guy has
responsibilities." I tried again. "You're a very beautiful woman."

She half smiled. "You think so, Mike?"

"Absolutely. It's too bad your husband can't see it." I pressed her
knee with my hand.

"You're sweet," she said.

"You deserve someone better," I said.

"No shit."

She didn't say anything for the longest time. I scooted myself next to
her and put my arms around her neck. She pawed my back.

"Thanks, Mike. You don't know how much I needed that."

Just then my phone rang. I answered. It was Susan. She'd been paged,
she told me. She had to go into the hospital. Don't wait up for her,
she said. I hung up the phone.

"It was Susan," I said.

"Mike," she said. She stared at me, darting her eyes all over my face.
She looked like she needed to say something and had a hard time
getting it out. "Mike, it's not my place," she continued. "I just
think you'll hate me for it. But I want to be honest with you, and
you're such a nice guy." Her words came slow. "You deserve better."
She pressed my hand.

"What?" I asked.

"Mike, Susan's having an affair. I'm sorry Mike."

I must've looked like I'd been gutted. I turned and fell on the other
end of the couch.

 "Mike." She got up and sat next to me. She searched for my hands.
"Mike, you okay? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you."

I gazed at her. "It's okay. Thanks for telling me, Misty. It's good to
know."

She groaned and struggled to get down into a squat in front of me. She
held my trembling hands in hers.

"I don't believe it," I said. "How can you be sure, Misty? How do you
know? How? When?"

"I've known for about a month. He comes to the house a couple times a
week. I see them mostly mid-day, when you were at work. She kissed him
outside your door." She pulled her dark hair away from her face. That
gesture reminded me of Susan.

The doctor, the yard sale. Of course she had to go looking for some
other man's cock. Of course she'd get herself pregnant by someone
else. I'd raise the man's kid. My mind flashed across possibilities.

"Anything else?"

"He's here all the time, during the week. Sometimes she leaves with
him. He's dark." She paused.

"Go on."

"He's tall, probably in his 20s. Athletic." her eyes bounced over my
face. "He's good looking. Dark."

"A black guy?"

She nodded. I tossed my head back. She got up and put her hands around
my head and pulled me against her stomach. She felt warm and
mothering. Her bare leg touched mine.

We talked for a while more. I dropped a few choice epithets about my
wife. I had to come up with something. I don't know what I would have
done if Misty wasn't pregnant, and I wasn't afraid to upset her.

"Mike, I'm so sorry."

"I needed to know, Misty. I'm better off knowing," I said.

She kept looking at me like she had something more. "Mike, if there's
anything I could do." She kneeled on the cushion and held my hand
between her legs. She moved her face in front of mine. I had a choice
and I kissed her.  She grabbed the back of my head. I held her small
face. Her lips moved over mine, hungry and biting.

We kissed with her over me until she got tired and fell back on her
legs. I lowered my sore neck and looked across at her. She sucked in
her lips. It was my turn to smother her. My face crushed against hers
and I sucked her lips into mine. She opened her mouth and spoke.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she said.

"Why not?"

"Right." She laughed.

I moved my hand around her hip. It was soft and round. I caressed her
flesh in my palm. She pulled me closer. We kissed for what seemed like
an eternity. Her hand glided across my rough cheek.  I ran the tips of
my fingers against her stomach. I pressed gently and felt the movement
inside her. Our kissing was full of looks. She took my hand and shoved
it behind the pants' elastic. I palmed her lower stomach and touched a
thin pair of sheer panties. I twisted her slick pubes between my
fingers and slid my fingers against her swollen cunt. She oozed
wetness. I searched out her mouth with mine, locked lips, and sucked
on her tongue.

"Mike, I don't know how long I can last."

I asked her what she meant.

"You know. Down there. Before I need you to fuck me."

I laughed at her.

"I'm not kidding," she said.

She lifted her shirt. Her breasts sagged against her stomach.

I looked on. She squared her shoulders. "They're beautiful," I said.
"Nice, dark-pink tips." I passed a finger down and across her nipple.

"They were nicer before. Smaller. Firmer. Not so saggy." She lifted
the undersides with her fingers.

"No, these are better."

She shook her hair. "I like you, Mike. More and more," she said.

I took a nipple into my mouth.

"Careful," she said. "I'm sensitive. Every day the feeling gets more
intense. The slightest touch sets them off."

She climbed over me, again, sort of sideways. Her face against the arm
rest. She maneuvered her heavy tit into my mouth. I lapped it up.

"Gentle," she reminded me.

I inhaled her mound and sucked. I got back cries of pleasure. I tasted
the trickle of something sweet. Suddenly, milk shot into the back of
my throat.  I took a deep breath and swallowed. The excess poured out
the side of my mouth.

"I'm sorry," she said, laughing.

I patted her thigh. "It's good."

She laughed with a touch of embarrassment. She held steady while I
drank a few more ounces. I rather enjoyed it. I palmed her belly with
my left hand.

She staggered out the words. "Mike. Fuck me. Please." She sat down
next to me.

"Not here. Let's go into the bedroom."

"I can't wait," she said. She searched around the room. "Over there by
that wall." She walked to the entryway by my office and leaned
forward, "Come over here."

I walked to her and pressed her backside with my crotch. The outline
of her panties showed through her pants. She wiggled her ass. I rubbed
her bottom and pulled her pants and green transparent panties just
below her hips. Her cunt was dark and hairy. I couldn't see her
vagina, nothing but the mat of hair between her legs. She spread her
legs and shifted from foot to foot.

"Come behind me," she said.

I walked down and put my hands on her hips. I pulled the rest of her
pants and panties below her knees. My hands moved over her cold
dimpled skin. She was fully naked, mounds of flesh, waiting for me to
fuck her.

"Hurry," she said.

I undid my pants and took out my cock. I stepped into her and slid my
penis between her two mounds of perfect white flesh. She reached
behind herself and pulled my penis into her hole. With a gentle push
on my part, she introduced me into her tight clenched pussy. She
winced and banged the wall. We both groaned in unison. I grabbed the
flesh above her ass and pushed in slowly. She held my arm to control
just how deep I went. I did my best to ignore the sharp points of her
fingernails digging into my arm. I made slow progress into her vagina.
My penis squeaked. She relaxed after a while.

"It feels good. Just like that."

I fucked her in quick, shallow strokes. She squeezed her vagina in
gratitude. One long tight interval and then flashes whenever I slowed
my pace.

"That's good," she said. I started pumping her faster. "Oh god, oh
god. Michael, my god. Fuck me harder. Harder."

She was too much. My heart raced. I came inside of her. My balls gave
all they could. I pulled out and gazed down between us. The semen
surged out of her red swollen cunt. I didn't know if she realized it
or not. She kept humping my dick. I massaged her broad back. I didn't
want to disappoint her. I wasn't done yet.

I increased my pace. She lowered her head and pushed her ass as far as
it would go. She'd meet me half-way.

"Ah, shit," she said. "Ah, shit, ah shit, ah shit. I'm cumming,
Michael. I'm coming." She shuddered. Her feet scampered across the
floor.

She screamed loud enough to alert the neighbors.

"Oh shit." She covered her mouth, and laughed. She shut her eyes and
got lost in the pleasure that coursed through her body.

I kept on fucking her. I jammed it as strong as I could. Her meaty
thighs slapped against mine. I climbed as deep as she'd take me. She
pressed herself close to the wall. My chest pushed against her back,
now. She turned her face to me and I kissed her open mouth. She
grabbed back and pulled my ass into her. She slowed down.

"Stop. No more," she panted. She clenched her ass and with that we
were done. I popped out. She panted and licked her wounds. She rubbed
her pussy lips. "We got carried away."

No kidding.

She turned toward me. She had her hands on her knees. Her tits and
stomach hung like some Mayan fertility goddess, which she was. She
curled her arms around my neck, slipped me kisses and passed her
fingers through my hair.

"Mike, whatever it takes. Whatever. I don't care. I'm leaving that son
of a bitch. And your wife's a whore."

I smiled. "Yeah. I think I know that."

Misty washed up. I watched her get dressed. I helped with her socks,
pants, and shoes. We hugged. We told each other we'd do this again
soon. I made out with her on the sofa. We kissed lazily, and drank
each others spit like high-school kids. She was tired, she told me.
She had to go home, take a bath, and fall asleep.

I saw her out the door. It was dark outside. She unlatched the gate,
and walked out across the street. She disappeared behind a tree. A
moment later she turned on her front lights.

I closed my door and took inventory. The house felt cavernous and
empty. This was not the end. Nothing like it. Things like this never
end easy. This was a far cry from a one-night stand. This didn't end,
not tonight. I'd dug myself a hole. The cunt's a trap. A cheating
wife, an affair with a pregnant neighbor. This was a screwed up place
to be. Call it what you want. I say, I felt fear behind my skull.

I could've gotten a divorce, walked away from Susan and our kids. But
I didn't. That was like pulling out the veins in my arms. I had to
stay. I had to deal with the situation. I had two women. I'd fuck
Misty, next chance I got, and I would love it. Then there was my wife.
She had it coming, too. My heart filled with rage. I wanted to fuck
her more than ever.

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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