Hey Folks, Happy Thanksgiving,
I wrote this one with the idea that it would be a nice long Holiday read. It's a bit different from my usual Turkey Day stories. Believe it or not this time the turkey surives. There is no flying food in this story. It is a long one, so those of you who just need a quick two page story should steer clear of it. This year as usual, I'm thankful to have all of you out there reading this and al of my other stories. I'm thankful for my wife and my family and Mustangs. I'm also thankful for Barney-R editing this story and all of the other ones, while writing great stories of his own. Those of you who haven't read his lates one, should look for it. Anyway, here we go. SS06.
The tingles started in my pussy and radiated outwards until they filled my entire body. I was lying on my side with him behind me. He lifted one of my thick legs over my head to give him access to my core. I slammed my big ass against him just as hard as he slammed his dick into me.
The wet squishy sounds of body hitting body filled the room. His grunts, and my moans were barely louder than the smacking sounds that we made every time we slammed into each other.
"Fuck me harder," I moaned. "Come on give it to me."
He was puffing away as if he was on the verge of exhaustion. "Come on yourself Sarah," he wheezed. "I've already fucked you three times. I'm dead."
"You're only twenty years old," I said. "Besides, the second time was in my ass. That doesn't count."
"How the hell does Mr. Miller keep up with you?" he gasped.
"My husband loves me," I said seriously. "He would push himself until he had a heart attack to please me if I needed him to. But I think he's just in better shape than you are. He runs a lot."
"Well maybe you should get home and wait for him to come home and finish you off," he wheezed. "I'm drained. And I do have a girlfriend that I occasionally screw."
"You already told me that she hardly ever gave you any," I said. "What are the chances that she'll be in the mood tonight?"
"We'll surely your iron man husband will be ready to go all night when he gets home," he said. "If he floats your boat so much, why do you need me?"
"Get over yourself," I snapped. My anger flashed so quickly that it surprised even me. "Dennis, makes love to me. What he gives me is romantic and emotional. He gets me off without thinking about it. I LOVE HIM ... like there's no tomorrow!"
"I'm sorry Sarah," he said. "I didn't mean anything by it."
"No Brad," I said. "You're right. This has gone on for far too long. You just reminded me of something that I guess I forgot."
"What are you talking about, Sarah?" he asked. "Don't take me seriously. I'm just exhausted. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."
"Brad, I love my husband. You were only a distraction. Sometimes I feel old and fat. Sometimes I need to just have some no-strings fun, or to try some wilder, weirder sex, you know? But I've been feeling kind of weird lately. It's time to stop," I told him.
An hour later, I was at home. I looked around at the house I loved, and I smiled. My life was awesome. I wondered why I wanted anything else. I showered and made myself fresh. I decided to give Dennis a very special night.
I needed to hurry though, he was due home in about an hour, and if I was freshly showered when he got home, he'd wonder why.
I showered and cleaned myself inside and out. Then I started on dinner. Almost like clockwork, I heard the sounds Dennis coming up our driveway. His Mustang's exhaust system was easy to pick out.
"Great job, Honey," I heard Dennis say. He was always complimenting me on something or other.
"Thank you, Daddy. Your car is so much fun to drive. It's almost like all I have to do is think about what I want it to do," said a voice I recognized as my sixteen-year old daughter Chelsea. "Can I drive your car when I take my test, next week?" she asked.
"Anything for you, Sweetheart," he said.
"Frankie is going to be sooooo jealous," said Chelsea. She bounced her way into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of chips and a soda.
"Chelsea, no snacks, dinner will be ready soon," I told her.
"Mom, I want to eat with Daddy. And he's going out to run, first," she said. Dennis went straight up the stairs without coming in to see me. That was unusual. A few minutes later, I heard him come down the stairs and go out the door. I knew that he was headed for the local park. There were running trails and a track there.
A little over an hour later, he came in and headed straight to the shower. He got something to eat and headed out to the garage. One of our neighbors came over, and they were doing something under the hood of the Mustang. I finished cleaning up the kitchen and went up to our room. I watched TV for a couple of hours while I waited for him to come to bed.
He poked his head in after taking a shower and told me that he'd be in later. He had something to do on the computer. I pulled the comforter off of me and showed him my tight and sexy new lingerie.
"That's a nice color," he said. I was very pissed off.
"You can stay down there on that fuckin' computer all night, Dennis," I hissed at him.
"Fine ... I will," he said. I have no idea what was going on with us. What had just happened was so unlike us that I was having trouble figuring it out?
For the rest of the week, we barely spoke to each other, and Dennis seemed to be fine with it. On Friday, I went to my doctor's office and got the shock of my life. I was pregnant. It couldn't be happening again. Our son was twenty years old and away in college. Our daughter, the Apple of her daddy's eye, is sixteen years old and will be going away in a year and a half. At thirty-nine years old, my child rearing days are behind me.
I was sure that the baby had been conceived when Dennis, and I went up to his parent's cabin in the mountains. There's something about that fresh mountain air that does it to me every time. Chelsea and her brother were both made in that Damned cabin.
I had him. My husband Dennis aka Super Dad would step up to the plate as soon as he discovered that "WE," were having another baby.
I waited triumphantly for his return, knowing that whatever funk he was going through would be trumped by my news. As I thought about it, I remembered several times in the past when we'd gone through things like this.
The last one was at the dream cruise a couple of years before. He'd gone to several of the vendors there and discovered that his motor was out of date. All of the newer Mustangs that had the 5.0 motors were running a 4 volt system. Even though he had more horsepower than most of them, he was running a 3 volt motor, and a lot of the new mods wouldn't work on his car.
He pouted like a baby for nearly a month before announcing to me that he had to buy another car for the sake of his fragile emotional state. I asked him how much he expected to get for the trade in on the old car, and he looked at me like I had pissed in his cornflakes.
Dennis had a plan in mind that there was no fucking way I would go along with. His plan was to rebuild our single-car garage or possibly add to it to turn it into a three-car garage. He would then buy another Mustang, keeping the old one and having the garage space for a third one sometime in the future. He was out of his God Damned mind, and I told him so.
"Dennis, we have two kids to put through college," I reminded him. "You are not Jay Fucking Leno. You have two choices here. Choice A is to trade your Mustang in and get a new one. Choice B is to put on your big boy pants and love the car you have. Stop being a follower and realize that you don't always have to have the latest greatest tech out there. You sit there and ooh and ahh over vintage Mustangs. Well ... Part of being vintage is having your car get older. As long as YOU love it, that's all that matters."
He sulked like a baby for another two weeks and finally decided that he loved his car too much to give it up. I was sure that the news of the baby would beat out whatever he was upset about.
When he came through the door preluded once again by the sound of his high-powered Mustang's exhaust system, I could hardly wait to spring the news on him. But once again, he'd stopped off and brought Chelsea home.
"Daddy, I could have beaten him," whined Chelsea. "It was a friggin Honda. And that greasy cowboy driving it was all hat and no cattle. That would have been..."
"That would have been your first and last ticket," said Dennis. "Neither of you noticed the cop car behind the Burger Queen. The Urban cowboy may have wanted another ticket, but you don't even have your license yet."
"Dad I want this car," said Chelsea. She had her serious face on. "You wanted a different car a while back. This is your chance to get it."
"Chelsea, I am not giving a five hundred horsepower Mustang to a sixteen-year old girl," he said. As I watched, Chelsea stuck out her bottom lip and her dad's face changed. I knew that my husband was about to start bargaining. He simply couldn't bear the thought of our daughter, or our son, for that matter, being unhappy. And Chelsea had been manipulating her dad since she was still wearing diapers.
"Chels, I really love my car," he began. "So I really don't need a new one. Maybe we could start a family tradition you know... ? Maybe we could get you your own Mustang?"
"The same color as yours," she asked. He grudgingly nodded.
"But you're getting a v6," he said as if he was being tough. She frowned and nodded her head as if she had just been forced to eat liver.
"Convertible," she threw in.
.... There is more of this story ...