("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Killian and Marlene Goodson by Marc Diamond (address withheld) *** A lonely married woman has had all the celibacy she can stand. She knows what she wants, when she wants it and who should give it to her. She also wants it for her daughter, but Killian, doesn't know it yet. (MFF, wife, cheat, 1st, oral) *** Chapter 1 Singing loudly, I barely heard the doorbell over the Eagles album. Lifting free weights and grunting out the words to Desperado had become a Saturday morning ritual. But there it was again. Fuck! Why do people want to interrupt my Saturday morning? Grudgingly I put down the weight and sprinted to the door. Winded and sweating, I opened the door and was surprised do see Marlene Goodson. She seemed flushed but at least her skin tone complimented the sheer peach dress. Sensing something wrong, my aggravation quickly changed to kindness. Mrs. Goodson is a confident yet soft-spoken woman in her early forties – about 5'7" and packaged in a mouth- watering tanned hourglass figure - very attractive. Her husband had been the county judge until about four years ago when he suffered a massive stroke, which left him totally immobilized. Though I've never had occasion to visit the Goodson residence, like many in our small community, I had heard the reports that his only response was eye movement. No speech or movement of any other kind. It would have been nice if I could have felt sorry for him, and I guess in a small way I did, but the truth was he was a notorious womanizer, a lousy judge and generally an all-around hard man. I didn't know him personally, but through the years there had been plenty of rumors that he had been both physically and verbally abusive to Marlene and her daughter. Apparently the judge had been one domineering tyrant. And even though he is little more than a vegetable, it's difficult to fine anyone that has any compassion for him. Judge Goodson, fortunately, over the years has accumulated a great deal of wealth, which enables Mrs. Goodson to employ home health care givers. She had a room built on the rear of the house for him with both video and audio feeds. Considering what she has had to put up with over the years, she ought to have the bastard institutionalized in some backwoods hell-hole. But she didn't; she hired some help and kept him at home. The woman is a Saint and really deserves for something good to come her way. It has never been my good fortune to find a woman like that; they're always taken. * * * I met Mrs. Goodson and her daughter Mauri at a community 4th of July picnic three years ago. Alice lived away but was visiting her mother for the holiday. Since then there have been several occasions in which we bumped into each other. On one occasion I had the privilege of dancing with Mrs. Goodson. She is a good dancer and didn't seem to be offended when I flirtingly pressed against her. She had a superb body – still does. I was envious at how easy and graceful she moved as we danced. From side to side and forward and backward, no matter which way I turned, she moved perfectly with me. Holding a woman like that in your arms is more than a little arousing – full hips and a pair of 36-Cs never felt so good. I couldn't help consider that if she can match and move with me that good on the dance floor, how wonderful would be her movement in bed - moving together, as one. I don't believe she noticed the slight swelling between us, but even if she did, she never let it have an effect on her dancing. Marlene Goodson was a very fine woman – very classy, but still reserved and quite. I assumed her crude husband had a great deal to do with her reticence. Sometimes it's just easier to present a quiet diplomacy, especially if you're married to a fool like George. It had been nearly a year since Marlene had approached me regarding some rental property. Her daughter and son-in-law wanted to relocate to the area and were seeking a place to rent until they could find the right piece of property to purchase. We made an appointment, I picked her up and we drove to look at several properties. Our conversation was open and filled with lots of laughter. I couldn't conceal it; she knew I was smitten with her. I hadn't been this goo-goo over a woman since I used to look up Mrs. Moreland's dress in the third grade. Of the available rentals I owned, she selected one she felt would be satisfactory, signed a lease agreement on behalf of her daughter, made a down payment and that was that – daughter Mauri and son-in-law, Harold, moved in the following month. Since there were no pets and still no children, I presumed they would make very dependable renters. The day the moving van arrived Mrs. Goodson called and asked if I could be present when Mauri and Harold moved in. No problem. I jumped at the chance to see her again. There was something about this woman. To me she was like an opiate. Mauri was a beautiful young woman in her mid-twenties – 5'8" and like her mother, very put together. I could easily imagine that in a mini skirt and 3" heels, Alice would steal the hearts and eyes of every man in a room. As a young woman she had the kind of looks that other women hate but secretly envy. It was easy to see where she got her looks. She was just a younger but taller version of her mother. She too seemed like a person that had paid a terribly high price for being raised by a heavy-handed father. I wanted to cuddle her and tell her how beautiful she was, but that wouldn't have been appropriate. Hopefully her husband would bathe her in praise and compliments. If he didn't, he was as big a fool as his father-in- law. Meeting Harold, Mauri's husband, was the surprise of the day. Harold was about 5'6" and maybe 130 pounds. Maybe it had something to do with being raised by such an overbearing father, but I didn't get it. I'm not sure Marlene could understand it either. She never said anything; she was not that kind of person. But there was just something understated in her manner when she was around Harold. It is a truth that sometimes what we don't say is a good indictor of how we truly feel. Marlene was indifferent to Harold. While assisting them with their moving, she had very little to say to Harold. She never said it, but I distinctly got the impression she would have preferred Mauri marry someone more the 'tall, dark and handsome' type. Who knows, maybe she imagined her future grandchildren. Also, every mother knows how important it is for a young woman to be satisfied in bed, and this would include her Mauri. When a mother looks at her son-in- law and can't keep from wondering what he would be like in bed, she is usually content that her daughter will be satisfactorily serviced. I didn't detect that Marlene was happy with anything about Harold. On moving day Marlene introduced me to everyone. Following the introductions, I volunteered and helped rearrange some of their furniture. Harold watched as the two women lifted one end of the couch and I lifted the other. I joked with them how it took two good women to wear me out. It was despicable and not too subtle, but I was trying. There were smirks and sly smiles from everyone but Harold. The quip passed over him. When I suggested we move to the bedroom and set up the 'adult playroom,' Mauri rolled her eyes. Not a good sign. I made no further comment. Over the course of the next several hours I was surprised at how easily our brief friendship was developing into something that was quite warm. When Harold was out of the room the sexual innuendoes and chemistry were obvious. There were times we were openly joking and I found myself lusting for Mauri and more than a little obsessed with Marlene. Though they were both married, and even mother and daughter, there was a sexual chemistry that should not have been there – but it was – and it was with both of them. There was certainly the potential for things to get complicated, but as I thought about things, that was highly unlikely considering they were such fine married women. Marlene was the wife of Judge Goodson, and Mauri was ten years younger than me. While it was easy, even natural, to fantasize about these two beautiful women, my fantasies were impractical. I dismissed them as best I could – yet here is Marlene Goodson ringing my doorbell on a Saturday morning. * * * "Hello Mrs. Goodson. Please come in." Closing the door behind her, I led us into my larger living room. She seemed hesitant and uncomfortable, as if something was troubling her. "Please sit down. How may I help you?" That was all I could think of to say. Her unexpected presence had me somewhat stunned. She sat down on the edge of the couch then rearranged the hem of her dress to the top of her knees. Rather than sit in the chair that was some distance away, I pulled the round Ottoman closer and sat down facing her – our knees nearly touching. No pantyhose – I noticed. Maybe the nearness would make things less threatening. Very shapely legs. "Killian, please call me Marlene." I nodded in affirmation. "How may I help you?" "Well, I've come about my daughter... I've come to make a very, very unusual request," her voice was soft and she seemed to choke the words out. Catching her eyes traveling down my body and finally resting on my crotch made me very self-conscious. Suddenly I was aware of how I must appear. Rushing to the door I had failed to cover up; I was only wearing some faded gym shorts, and they were too small. My legs were open in the typical male power position and the absence of underwear allowed a now very noticeable bulge to be easily seen. And I was covered with sweat from my workout. It wasn't the most pleasant sight or smell. But I hadn't planned on entertaining. Had I not been interrupted, I would have completed my exercises then proceeded to the shower. Assessing the situation, I quickly apologized. "Mrs. Goodson... er, Marlene, please forgive my appearance. I normally work out every Saturday morning. Had I known you were coming I would have been more appropriately dressed. I feel badly about my appearance. Please excuse me while I take a quick shower and put on something more appropriate. Let me get you something to drink while you wait. Coffee? Something cold? I promise you I won't be but a second." "Killian," there was a pleading in her voice, "please don't shower on my part. This is difficult for me..." She then stood and took a step toward me. We were now very close, except I was still sitting. Looking down she said, "I don't know how to say this without sounding like a terrible person, but it's been a long time since I've been around a man that smelled like a man." Her words, coupled with her body language, were a clear signal. I knew what she was implying or at least I thought I did. She may have initially intended to say something about her daughter, but that was not her primary reason for this Saturday morning visit. It was simply the pretense. But a gentleman never embarrasses a lady or makes her appear foolish. If he does he is a fool. And it's for sure it will cost him knowing the full sweetness of her charms. "Marlene, nothing you could ever say or do would ever make me believe you are a terrible person. With what you have had to deal with over the years, I think you are a Saint. And though I've never said anything, you already know how I feel about you." With that said I extended my arms and let my hands softly touch the outside of her knees. I felt her tense as the reality of what was about to happen was sinking in. She was having last minutes thoughts on whether she should let things go further or not. This was not the moment to aggressively push my hands up her dress. When or if she wants them there, she will let me know. So keeping my hands where they were, I continued to softly caress her knees and upper calves. I let my face drift to the front of her thighs then slowly press in on her legs. I was against her love triangle. Silently exhaling a stream of hot breath onto her legs, I knew the heat of my breath would be easily felt through the thin material. It was only a few moments later when I felt her relax. She had decided. She wanted to continue. Her need had won out over her apprehension. There was also another reality. I knew that if I stopped now she would perceive that as a rejection and would be humiliated. In coming to my house and offering herself to me, she was going against her own nature and taking a risk. I realized and respected that. I had no intention of hurting this beautiful woman in any way. The die was cast. It was much more than her sexual needs that she was entrusting to me, it was also her heart. If I had taken the time to fully consider how difficult all this had been for her, I'm not sure what I would have done. It's probably good that I didn't. I may have ended up on the floor blubbering how unworthy I felt - that she didn't need. So while I couldn't give her a lot, I could provide her with something hot, hard, thick and eight 'n one-quarter inches in length. It would have to do. When that's all ya got, that's all ya got. But it was hers. As I prepared to enjoy the feast that she was offering in her luscious maple valley, I again marveled at the daring it had taken for her to make this decision. After four years of a sexless existence, living and faithfully caring for a man that had never personally loved her, she had reached the end and could take it no more. And I was not going to disappoint her. Slowly, in up and down caressing motions I moved my hands on her legs and thighs. Her legs were like heated marble and her inner thighs were like silk. I was driven now to bring my mouth to her caldron of passion. She was probably wet when she arrived and had only gotten more moist. There was a succulent elixir of love continuing to flow from her. It was mine and I needed to get to it, but I still needed to exercise patience. She had waited four years for the kind of fucking she wanted, so a few more moments wouldn't matter. For years no one had had kissed or sucked or licked her. Sliding my hands to her upper thighs, I moved my fingertips around to the back of her thighs, then up on her butt, then down and back to the front of her thighs again. She tensed slightly when I moved my thumbs to her inner thighs, but just as quickly relaxed. I backed off from touching her heat. She wanted it. Desire is such a great aphrodisiac, isn't it? Circling my fingers again around to the back of her thighs I gently put pressure on her to come a half-step forward. She responded without hesitation; she was now between my legs. I continued to softly caress her legs, occasionally letting my hand rub the lips through her panties. They were noticeably swollen and her panties were soaked – even the inside of her thighs were wet. She smelled delicious and was no longer tentative but ready and waiting on me. There was a slow gyration of her hips toward me. But I wanted to raise the intensity of her desire even more. It had been four years since she had been with a man and after all the troubles she has had over the years, she deserves to have her every desire fulfilled. When I enter her I want her to come back at me with reckless and unrestrained abandon. I don't know why but I decided the best thing to do is bring her to orgasm before I fuck her. It could be dangerous, but still I think she will enjoy it more in the long run. I believe when that 'fuck glaze' comes over her eyes, she's going to metamorphosis into a throbbing 140-pound pussy. And quickly doing the math, a 140-pound woman in orgasm is equivalent to a 263- pound man in PPSIT (pounds per square inch of thrust). I use my own chart. And that makes for one bone-jarring fuck. As I think about it, there's no way that little Harold can ride Mauri. He doesn't have enough battery juice to turn that big motor over, let alone run it. Many a person has lost their life trying to ski behind a boat that is too big. I knew Marlene was getting close when I felt her hands on the back of my head pulling me into her. I loved her scent and couldn't wait to taste her. Her sweet aroma of sex was strong. Nothing smells any better than a woman wet with desire. I'd done very little to her; all that was happening to her was primarily due to her own anticipation. Giving yourself permission stirs the juices. I moved my hands from her butt around to each of her sides and let my fingers slide over the waistband of her panties. Slowly then I began to pull them down. Deliberately slow – a little in the front and then moving my fingers to the back of her panties, I pulled down just a bit. I continued that slow process of pulling her panties down, all the while letting my fingers softly caress her skin. Her depth of breathing was noticeable. As my fingers began to move through her pubic hair then around to the cheeks of her behind, I couldn't help but grin. While I was deliberately slow, I could tell that she was ready for things to progress much faster. She repeatedly kept lifting her sex to me in a slow back and forth rhythm. "Ummmmmm. Killian, please. It's been so long." I knew she wanted her panties off. When women heat up and are ready to fuck, they get impatient. They want to get naked. And Marlene was definitively impatient. She wanted her panties down, off, and me busy with her pussy. But I stopped pulling her panties down when they came to her knees. Marlene had been pulling my face to her pussy so I decided to spend a few minutes gently biting her thighs and mound through her dress. She responded like I knew she would. She widened her stance as much as her panties would allow and lifted herself to my mouth. "Ahhhh... please, Killian... please... Ummmmmp... Ohhhh..." She was close and I didn't even have her panties off. But it was the anticipation of what was coming. She had held back and denied herself – but no longer. Today she was letting go. Today she was allowing herself the sexual pleasures that for several years she had only imagined. Today there was no more denying her needs as a woman. Today she had decided to satiate herself and fulfill her sexual needs. Maybe love tomorrow, but not today. Today she wants a fuckin'! Gripping my hair she pulled my head back and lowered her head down. Her voice was low and guttural. She was intense and her eyes were dazed and darting back and forth. "Killian," she said through clinched teeth. "Your smell of sweat and sex is driving me crazy. I want it, Killian... and I want it now!" She was ready – more than ready! Wasting little time now I pulled her panties to her ankles and she stepped out of them. Standing up, I moved her back several steps to the couch and eased her down. Anticipating the fuck, she pulled up her dress, leaned back on the couch, grabbed her legs behind her knees and opened herself. She was a spectacular sight. I felt like Moses looking over into the Promised Land. Her outer lips were swollen and her valley glistened with a heavy winter frost. She was wet and open and ready. I heard Joshua and Caleb whisper, "There's giants over there, but we can take 'em." 'Till then I had forgotten about the music playing in the background. I hadn't turned it down and now I heard the Eagles playing the introduction to "Lyin' Eyes". Wafting through the hallway came the words: "City girls just seem to find out early how to open doors with just a smile, a rich ole man she won't have to worry, she'll dress up all in lace and go in style. "Late at night the big ole house gets lonely, I guess every point of refuge has its price, and it breaks her heart to think her love is only, given to a man with hands as cold as ice. "So she tells him she must go out for the evening, to comfort an old friend who's feelin' down, but she knows where she's goin' as she's leavin', she's headed for the cheatin' side of town. You can't hide your lyin' eyes, and your smile you can't disguise, I thought by now you'd realize there ain't no way to hide your lyin' eyes..." (Eagles Greatest Hits 1971-1975). Kneeling down between her legs, I hoped the words hadn't spoiled the mood. They hadn't. She'd waited long enough. She knew what she wanted, when she wanted it, and who she wanted to give it to her. I was one luck fucker. On my knees I moved up between her legs 'till they were draped over my shoulders. It felt natural. I looked at her with as much love as I could gather. She looked at me knowing all the time what I was going to do. "Marlene, I have no reason or right to say this, but I love you." Then without another word I lowered my head and our lips met. To be continued... Marc00diamond@yahoo.com * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 38