Chapter 2: His Perspective

I hung up more abruptly than maybe I should have, but I was truly shook by Abby’s blatant lie about standing in front of the microwave as the meatloaf heated. I knew it was a lie because the kids and I ate the rest of the meatloaf for lunch just before leaving town. Why would she lie about such a thing? Was she even home? Of course she was, I called the landline. Was she late because of an after-work tryst in the office? Or, heaven forbid, she brought him into our house?

“Are you going to keep staring at that damn phone or come over here and fuck the high school cheerleader you used to fantasize about?”

I jolted back into the moment and looked toward the bed. The lead cheerleader from my high school class, Sheila Howard, was laying on the bed wearing a cheerleader uniform, or at least the skirt and bra-top of an uniform. She said it was from high school, but it was obvious that she had put on a few pounds since then and that this uniform was clearly a replacement. Either way, it was sexy as hell, especially as she had the skirt hiked up over her waist exposing her shaved pussy.

“Couldn’t get wifey to phone-fuck you like the last time you plowed me? So sorry, but I’m wet as fuck, and I need something – your tongue, finger, or dick – inside me right now.”

That pushed any further thoughts of Abby out of my mind as I shut off my phone and leaped for the bed, landing with my face inches from her swollen lips. I got a nose full of Sheila’s aroma and knew that she was not lying about being wet and ready for penetration from any source. I grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, plunging my tongue deeply into her slit in one rough motion. She arched her back and squealed in approval. I alternated plunging my tongue deeply into her with a finger. When a finger or two found themselves buried in Sheila’s tunnel, my tongue made a long slow lick up the length of her slit, concentrating a final flick of the tip of my tongue on her most sensitive part. I would then alternate and again plunge my tongue deeply into her with my fingers rubbing the length of her pussy. It only took three such passes before I felt my hair fiercely grabbed and held in place as I stretched and wiggled my tongue as far as possible. Her juices flowed freely as her squeals turned into whimpers of approval.

“Hell, yes, to the fuck yes! You’re the best carpet-muncher I’ve had, or should I say tile-muncher? Now lose those fuckin’ shorts.”

I pulled off my shirt and lost my shorts as instructed. Sheila had moved to the edge of the bed and instead of having me join her she rolled her head off the bed and while looking up at me from upside down took the entirety of my ball sack into her mouth. With one had she grabbed my cock and started to slowly stroke it, and without any preamble a finger from her free hand was harshly jammed up my ass. She had it soaked in her juices so there was enough lubrication to cleanly sink in to the second knuckle. It had been almost two weeks since I had last cum, so this sudden overload of stimulation was all it took to blow my jiz across her prostrate body. The first rope of cum landed just short of her pussy and stretched to the top of her breasts. The second landed squarely on her breast and then draped up her chest stopping on her throat. The third wasn’t allowed to hit her body and she pulled my cock down and into her mouth taking it and the remainder of my load into her cheeks and then swallowing.

I groaned loudly, and then said, “What’d you say? Hell, yes, to the fuck yes?”

She smiled and carefully maneuvered herself off the bed. She stepped into the bathroom and I could hear water running as she cleaned my cum shots off her body. The water stopped and she appeared in the doorway, posing seductively in silhouette.

“It’s probably better that we didn’t fuck in high school. I’m sure it would have been fun, but not nearly this good. Now it’s time for act two.”

Sheila reached the bed, lay on her back, spread her legs, and languidly reached her arms over her head. Her coquettish smile and lick of her lips was all it took to get me stirring again.

“Tongue, check. Finger, check. Now it’s time for some dick!”

That’s all it took. I was again brought back to life. As I squared myself between her legs and looked over her body I started to think of Abby. They were so different. My wife had dark hair, a clear, shiny, almost porcelain-doll face, perky handful-sized breasts, a taut stomach, and a small patch of pubic hair that I asked her to shape. By contrast I was looking at a woman with blonde hair, a nice face but showing some age that she concealed with make-up, much larger breasts that sagged considerably, a stomach that was showing a paunch, and a shaved womanhood that she insisted all men preferred.

I don’t know if Sheila noticed any flagging in my member as I did a mental comparison, but it was forgotten when I felt a pair of cold heels dig into my butt and pull me closer as her hand guided my re-stiffening member into her still soaked hole. The sensation as I fully sunk into her brought me fully back into the moment and I immediately began to pulse in and out of her at a regular rhythm. After a few minutes, she reached down and started to rub herself, extending two fingers downward to massage my dick on its round-trip course. That was my cue to increase my tempo and in a few thrusts I went from a gentle seesaw rhythm to all out pile driver. It didn’t take long before we climaxed in unison. I felt her tighten around me as I clinched and deposed my second load of the night deeply within her.

I collapsed on top of her and rolled onto my side with my deflating member slowing making exit from its sloppy cave. I caressed a breast and we kissed, but then the grandfather clock chimed and realization set in that our night of frivolity needed to come to an end.

“Shit, that’s the chime for 9:45. I need to get back to my parents’ house and meet my father for an end-of-day drink in his office.” I slid off the bed, careful not to drip on the floor, and went to the bathroom in search of a washcloth to clean myself.