February 14th 2008, Valentines Day
I watched her through hooded eyes as she slipped into the bedroom, and then tried to control the grin I felt growing on my lips when I saw what she was wearing.
Fuck, she's still capable of giving me a hard-on I thought as I watched her full, round breasts moving under the diaphanous, ivory colored, silk babydoll she was wearing. To her husband of fourteen years her already hard, dark pink, half dollar sized nipples indicated her excitement, the wetness I knew I'd find when I explored through the trimmed triangle of blond pubic hair that highlighted her sex.
"Wake up sleepy head," she whispered in my ear even as one of her hands lightly touched my nipple, actually tweaked it before she moved it lower.
Christ after all these years together she can read every nerve in my body I thought as I felt her tongue probe wetly into my ear. I was already hardening, lengthening when she closed her soft palm around my penis.
I groaned, then arched my body in a languorous stretch before I opened my eyes slowly.
"I know you're awake," she accused in her sexiest voice.
"Do you?" I asked my ex-wife. Mind you she didn't know yet that her status had changed from loving wife to ex. Today was the 14th of February 2008, St. Valentines Day, the day for lovers, the day I was going to tell her her new status. But before I did I was going to sample the charms of the unfaithful bitch for one last time.
"Daddy's cock is so big today," she whispered huskily, "does daddy want to put his penis in mommy?"
"Suck it," I ordered her harshly, then put my hand on the back of her head and slowly forced it down toward my straining prick.
"Is this my Valentines candy?" she asked leering, then she stuck out her tongue and flicked a drop of cream from its tip.
"Jesus," I moaned as my hips involuntarily tightened, lifting my ass from the sheets.
"Daddy's big lollipop," she said between licks of her moist tongue that trailed wetly from the thick base of my shaft right up and over the ridge that separated my prick's Valentine heart shaped cockhead from the piston that supported it.
"Suck it bitch," I ordered as each of my hands grabbed a handful of her long, silky blond hair.
The slut still hadn't realized that something was wrong, that within an hour her world would be turned upside down. I let my eyes rove over her still stunning thirty-three year old body as her head bobbed in my lap, making me wonder for just a second if I'd made a mistake. Because, even after all the crap I'd silently endured for the last eight months, I knew I'd always want her. Fuck that, I thought as I tightened my grip on her hair and violently pulled her head off my cock.
"What baby? You don't want to cum in mommy's mouth today?"
I simply threw her to her back and rolled on top of her, then drove deeply between the engorged lips of her cunt in one brutal push.
She cried out in protest at the attack but was ready when I made a second and even deeper thrust. She had her ankles locked behind my back by the time I'd pumped my prick into her for the fifth time, then was moaning, urging me on as I started to rhythmically pound inside her.
"Slut ... bitch ... cock sucker," I yelled as my orgasm approached, language which just seemed to excite her more.
"Hurry baby ... HURRRRY ... I'M READY," she suddenly screamed as her back stiffened and arched off the bed.
And then it didn't matter what I thought of her. The sudden tightening, then the first release, almost painful but also euphoric, then feeling my sperm as it hurtled down my shaft and then splashed violently deep into her vagina. And then again ... again ... fuck again ... Her cunt was tight around him, pulsing as I bucked my creamy spunk into her.
I finally rolled off her, lay panting on my back, gasping, my anger almost drained from me.
Still hungry the bitch straddled me, her now bright pink, exposed sex leaking cum down onto my stomach. She threw her head back and yelled, sending her long blond hair swinging in a wild, mesmerizing dance. "Giddee up big boy, mama's in the saddle now, show me what you got," she urged as she slapped my butt like a jockey might whip his steed towards the finish line.
Looking up into her face for a second I saw the face that had seduced me so easily so many years before. Two babies and fourteen years later she could still pass for the coed I'd fallen in love with.
I saw her for the first time on September 14th, 1993, fourteen and a half years ago. We'd both been eighteen years old.
She was one of those rich girls, the daughter of a Wall Street tycoon— I was the son of the Irish working class, I'd needed a scholarship.
I was a virgin — she, it turned out, wasn't.
Both freshmen, we'd been on campus just seven days...
September 14th, 1993, Middlebury College, Vermont
It was just one of those Freshman Week social gatherings, a party that had brought together half of our class to meet and mix. A class that was made up of the sons and daughters of the ruling class with a few scholarship students like me thrown in. They didn't take us because of our brains — hell the school had a good enough reputation that if it wanted to it could fill itself up with just smart, rich kids. No, the working class kids like me (and the token Latinos and Blacks) were wanted to expose these private school kids to the kinds of people they'd rule for the rest of their lives.
I'd been asking myself all week why the hell I'd enrolled at this snotty college filled with little snob bitches and preppy assholes. That is until I saw her!
It was her blond hair that had first drawn my attention that night, swinging like a golden halo around her head as she turned from one rapt Middlebury boy to the next. Although surrounded by these fawning, potential beaus, I could see at a glance that even in this company she was someone special. It wasn't just her beauty (and she was beautiful), nor the way she was dressed, nor the regal way she carried herself. She had something else, a sexual charisma that effortlessly drew the eyes of every boy in the room. And it was clear to me as I watched her that she was aware of her power and would readily exploit it. She pissed me off even as she excited me.
I found myself grinning at the way she played the crowd around her even as my virgin penis hardened in my pants. And then she looked up and caught me. Just for a second I caught the question in her eyes, 'what's he laughing at' before she dismissed me and flicked her eyes back to the group around her.
An hour later as I stood waiting for a beer at the bar I felt an elbowing nudge in my back and turning my head found my blond friend.
"Oh sorry ... I didn't see you," she said imperiously as she slipped in front of me. Then she looked me up and down, a slow appraising glance that was exceedingly rude coming from a classmate and someone my own age.
Fuck her I thought. "Yeah, I did read that you had trouble seeing ... I think they said you had suffered some rare childhood ocular disease," I said as I lightly nudged her aside and put my arm on the bar.
"What? You read about me? Where?"
"Yes ma'am," I said as I turned towards the bartender and signaled to him with my finger.
"Ma'am? I'm a student ... here ... at Middlebury you imbec..."
"Nice try miss ... I saw you giving your autograph to those guys," I interrupted without looking at her.
"I'm a freshman ... in Hopwell," she insisted, referring to a residence on campus.
"C'mon, I know you're Miss August ... I saw the picture spread." I said as I turned and let my eyes zero in on her chest.
"But you don't look that bad in clothes either ma'am ... are you here promoting some product? Beer? Are you giving out condoms?" I asked as I slowly ran my eyes up and down her curves.
"I'm a student you dolt ... from New York City ... Manhattan ... you have heard of it haven't you? My name is Victoria Penelope Smyth-Worthington. I'm in Fine Arts!"
"Is that your stage name? Could you sign this napkin for me," I asked feigning a boyish, leering enthusiasm.
"Do you even go to this school? What's your name?" she asked in a tone that the most officious Dean of Students would have trouble matching.
"O'Scouries ma'am, Patrick O'Scouries."
"From Brooklyn miss ... we're sorta neighbors. You can call me Paddy ma'am," I offered with a smile.
She sneered at my suggestion that we could possibly be neighbors, she looked as though she doubted we were from the same planet. "You're a student here?"
"Can I call you sometime?" I asked, ignoring her question.
Stopping, she turned her head and asked, "Call me what?" She'd had a funny little smile on her lips when she'd spoken but it was her eyes that captured me, the challenge in them clear — Do you really think you're man enough for me?
"Call you what? Yeah that is a tough one ... I mean given your weird name," I said with a grin as I turned and moved away from her and back into the mob surrounding the bar.
"My weird name?" I heard her screech at my back.
"Hi ... is this Miss Vicki?" I asked, even though I'd recognized her voice. Her number had been easy to find in the student directory.
"No it is definitely not MISS VICKY ... Who is this? What time is it?"
"Paddy ... Patrick O'Scouries," I answered.
"Who?" I just laughed down the line in answer. "The boy from the party?" she finally asked.
"You know in that Penthouse article they said you were pretty smart."
"Fuck you!" But she hadn't hung up! And I'd heard the curiosity in her voice.
.... There is more of this story ...