Chapter 3

Less than a week later, I noticed Richard Davis looking me over. Would he be the one to replace Stanley in my bed? Or more precisely, since my bed was off limits, would he be the one to replace Stanley inside my body? Time would tell, but while time was deciding, I still had my vibrator and my DVDs.

That afternoon, while Michael was doing his usual round of hospital visits, I brought my buzzing toy to the rec room together with one of the DVDs hidden in the attic. The movie was a 60 minute girl on girl production; for the time being, I had blocked cock out of my mind and was just trying to get myself off. No, I had no intention of starting up with any of the females who attended the church, but I did enjoy the view of the female body. Especially one in heat, or even an actress making believe that she was in heat.

My panties were tucked away in my dresser, my skirt pulled back to expose my organs, my knees spread to accommodate my vibrator, the DVD's remote control at hand for rewinds and pauses. I leaned back and started the movie, turning on the buzzer and placing the tip at the entrance to my personal love canal. The vibrations brought forth my lubrication and soon the toy was about an inch inside me. Alas, the movie did not excite me. A well formed female breast can get me hot, a large pair straining through a blouse likewise, but the naked udders on these two cows turned me off.

I did watch though, focusing on the shiny wet pussy lips filling the screen. Yet my mind could not concentrate on those two women, so I began to visualize cocks filling my body. Stanley, Stanley, I need your throbbing meat inside me; will you ever come back? Go back to separate bedrooms, Stanley. Fuck me, fuck me, Stanley, shoot your sperm into me. Arthur, Arthur, I haven't thought of you much lately, you dear sweet man. How are you, you dear considerate lover? I so hope you've met someone new to please, someone who will care for you as I did, as I still do. Michael, Michael, my dear husband, is there any way to improve your performance, to slow down your orgasms so that I need not seek my satisfaction elsewhere? Shall we try counseling? Shall I find you a surrogate wife, a woman who will take your sperm and send you home to me so that when we make love, it will take you longer to ejaculate again? What would your face look like if I ever suggested that, my dear? Richard, Richard, what would your cock feel like inside...

Richard? Was this my mind telling me that this young man was to be my sexual savior? My hips leapt off the chair as I orgasmed, surprised at my thoughts. I had already masturbated to the vision of Dick's dick in me, and he had passed the mental test. With Stanley not available, I guessed it was time for Richard. How to do it; how to get him into my pants without scandal?

But in my position I couldn't just walk up to him and say, "Let's fuck." I needed him to make the first overt move and I needed to be sure that he would keep his mouth shut; shut that is, unless it was open to accept my tongue or my clit. As luck would have it, my dear husband Michael came to the rescue.

"Melissa, please invite the Davis family over for dinner some evening this week. We need to talk over church finances." Richard's parents were active in the church and large contributors; they would know the intent of the invitation and would not object to it. If they didn't make any excuse not to come, they would bring their checkbook. And their son, that walking wet dream.

Frank Davis was a handsome man; one could see where Richard got his good looks. A quick unobtrusive glance showed that he was well hung, his three piece set showing a slight bulge in his suit pants. His wife was a dumpy hausfrau, pleasant but I couldn't see any man leaving home for her. You could tell that she had been attractive in her youth, but she had simply allowed herself to go to seed. Poor Frank; I briefly had some thoughts about him but pushed them aside. Richard was my target for the evening. Frank would have to wait; I hadn't written him off.

At dinner, all the talk was small talk; the push for a contribution would come at dessert. This was a minuet we often danced. During the meal, I made conversation with Richard while Michael chatted with his parents.

"Was it fun working in the White House?"

"Oh yes; I had a great time, ma'am."

"Didn't I tell you once to call me Melissa?"

He blushed and nodded.

"Did you meet the President?"

"Just once."

"What did you do there?"

"I just helped out on all sorts of things."

"Like what?"

"I'm not allowed to say."

"Not even a teeny bit?"

"I gave my word, sort of like if I was working in a doctor's office or a lawyer's office, not to repeat anything I heard. Just like your husband isn't allowed to tell people what other people say about their problems and such."

A little more pressure, again to no avail, convinced me that Richard was truly discreet. Now to get him to be a little forward. Again Michael helped.

"Melissa dear, would you please fix the dessert now. Mr. and Mrs. Davis know that I asked them here to talk about the new school project. Richard, maybe you'd like to help Melissa."

Though phrased as a suggestion, Richard knew that he was being told to get out of the room so that his parents would speak more freely about money. He stood up, grabbed a few dishes and went to the kitchen. I continued with my gentle prying, hoping that he would continue to maintain his silence. When one of my questions received no response at all, I looked up, only to find Richard staring at my chest and blushing deeply.

"What's the matter, Richard?"

He didn't answer.

"What's the matter? Tell me."

Again he was silent, just shaking his head. This time I didn't press, figuring that if I continued to wait, he would have to speak first. He closed his eyes.

"You're beautiful, Melissa." He was whispering.

"Why, thank you, Richard. But then why are your eyes closed?"

He opened them, this time to stare at my face. He ignored my question. "I think of you when I'm in bed."

"Does that mean what I think it means, Richard?"

He nodded.

"Don't you have girl friends your own age?"

He nodded again. "None of them are as sexy as you."

OK, OK, Melissa, choose your words carefully. I had just realized that unless Richard's parents spoiled him rotten, he might not have the money for a motel, and I certainly didn't either-I didn't want to use my inheritance money. It would have to be my bed or his, and I somehow felt it would be safer in mine.

"We can continue this talk tomorrow afternoon. Stop by when you get out of school. Now let's get these desserts into the dining room."

My pussy was soaking as I carried the coffee. Richard was right behind me, using my swinging ass to hide his erection.

What is it with this bitch? Doesn't the fucking preacher give her enough? She stands out there every Sunday morning damn near like a whore in search of a convention. She is no doubt a fine looking piece of ass though; I'm really going to enjoy pouring it into her.

She thinks she's so cool with that cross-examination about keeping secrets. Shit, I didn't get that internship job by being stupid; she just wants to be sure that I won't brag about nailing her to my friends in school. Well, we'll just have to decide that later, Melissa baby; first I'm going to have to fuck her blind and see whether or not I like it.

Being married to the preacher, I guess that's what makes her a sucker for a confession, like I really need her to help me jerk off. Shit, I haven't had to jerk off for almost a year. Well, maybe tonight, anyway. That White House job has had me swimming in pussy since I got home; good thing the old man can afford to keep me in rubbers. A lot of them like it bareback anyway. What about you, pussycat?

I wonder if she likes it in the ass. I never fucked any of the girls in the ass; that'd be a fine notch on my belt.

After they left, Michael dumped his quick load of cum into me, never noticing or commenting about how wet I was. When he fell asleep, I took care of myself, thinking about Dick's dick. It didn't take long at all.

The next morning, I dressed in jeans and a loose sweater, with nothing underneath. While I had clothes on, he wouldn't be able to tell that I was naked underneath; once he got his hands on me, and I saw no reason why he shouldn't, the knowledge wouldn't matter. I was just doing some housework when the phone rang.

"Hi, Melissa. Would it be convenient if I stopped over now?"

"It's not even noon yet. What about your afternoon classes?"

"I've decided to cut them."

How about that? The young man was anxious. Well, as they say, in for a penny, in for a pound. "Sure, come on over."

"Ten minutes."

I put up the coffee, and fifteen minutes later, we were sipping it at the kitchen table.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Richard?"

"Are you asking if I'm a virgin? No, I'm not."

"No, I didn't think so, but that's not what I was asking. Only tell me why you answered as you did."

"Because I think you're a very exciting and attractive woman and I came here hoping to make love to you." He was staring me straight in the face as he spoke; he obviously wasn't nervous, although I was. I stared back for a moment, then stood and pulled my sweater off over my head. His eyes popped open; he had expected to bed me but still was surprised to see that I wore no bra. My nipples stood out, fully engorged. He ignored them and stood to take my face in his hands, eyes locked together, not bending to kiss me until I closed my eyes. My hands pulled his ass cheeks toward my groin as I pressed forward, feeling a hard erection poking me.

I led him to the couch and we sat, me straddling him, both of us fully dressed except for my top. He squeezed my breasts as we kissed, open mouthed. His hands moved to my back, and he pulled me close to him; my nipples felt the rough cloth of his cotton shirt. I slid back to unzip his fly. My fingers wrestled inside his pants, trying to find the opening in his shorts so that I might fish his cock out into the fresh air, fresh air turning redolent with the scent of the pussy juice escaping my jeans. I needed that cock so badly to scratch my itch, to stimulate the nerve endings in my clitoris, to bury itself inside me and spurt its sweet offering into my diaphragm. He raised his ass so that I could slip his jeans down; when I stood to remove them totally, he reached out and began to undo my own. He was again surprised but less so when he saw that I wore no panties.