Chapter 4

The family had their dinner in silence. RJ soon tired of trying to provoke a meal time discussion of the day's events and retired to listen to the radio in the parlor. Hiding behind the newspaper, he planned his next chance to indulge himself with Elsa's charms. RJ rested the paper on his lap, concealing the large bulge that had grown as he imagined the slight redhead on her back, lying naked on his desk and begging for him to fuck her.

The family had resumed its normal routine, but only on the surface. As soon as they had been excused from the table, Bud and Rebecca had disappeared upstairs to do their homework. Safely out of sight in the bathroom, Bud washed away the sticky traces of Millie's juices. He paused to hold his cock in his hand and wonder if it was really as big and thick as she'd said.

Across the hall in her room, Rebecca lay on her stomach, her hand burrowed between her pussy lips as she replayed her session in the laundry room. Her hand made wet, squishing sounds as her fingers plunged in and out of her pussy. She bit down on one of her rag dolls to keep from crying out as she came, the vision of Tyrone's cock drilling Millie's tasty quim filling her mind.

In the kitchen, Harriet scraped the dishes for Millie to wash the next morning. For her part, she stood at the sink and tried to be patient; vainly trying to fend off the lustful feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. The scene she'd witnessed between Millie and the deliveryman was etched in her mind: The way Millie's breasts had bounced as his mammoth cock plowed into her, the wet slapping sounds as their bodies met at the end of each stroke.

Harriet tried to compose herself. She was over-reacting, she told herself. She was, after all, a mother, a member of the PTA and the Church Women's Auxiliary. She'd been married for 18 years and had never once felt the temptation that burned inside her now. She chewed her bottom lip, desperately searching for a way to take the edge off her needs before anyone found out.

In the back of her mind, she kept remembering that tonight was "the night." In the past, it had become a chore that Harriet had come to dread, but this week she needed her husband's cock inside her. She looked at the kitchen clock and wondered if she had time to use the thick handle of her hair brush, a handy tool that had met her needs quite a few times over the last months. She also knew that the extra lubrication would help RJ finish quickly.

Before she could slip upstairs, however, she heard a sound behind her. RJ had come into the kitchen for a drink. He put his hand on her hip and leaned to give her a quick peck on the neck. His idea of foreplay, Harriet thought bitterly. But, in her state, even his casual touch made her weak in the knees.

Harriet stumbled back as one ankle wobbled and landed in RJ's arms. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his unmistakable bulge against her backside. She reached behind her and pressed her hand against the outline of his manhood. His hands had caught her around the waist, but now they reached up to cradle her heavy breasts.

"RJ, what about the children?" she asked.

He buried his face under the pile of auburn curls at the back of her neck. His hands fondled her breasts. Her nipples poked through her dress, scraping against his palms. Her squirms only succeeded in increasing the friction between his rapidly swelling manhood and her ripe, round bottom.