Pay Back
While Paul Talbert and I married young the Summer of Love, we did not become willing participants in the sexual revolution until a decade later, a decade deep into married. Our initial foray into the unknown began with a misstep into our guest bathroom over a lengthy Memorial Day holiday while Cousin Peggy's husband changed out of wet swim wear. His was the first untrimmed human penis I'd seen in the flesh.
"Sorry, Claudia," Elliott said, acknowledging apologetically my invasion of his privacy. "I should have bolted the door."
Unashamed, Elliott posed and waited for me to collect my senses and leave, or make the mistake and move closer in his direction. My hesitation indicated the former. His penis was seven inches of thick pink pleasure with quite a ways to go before insertion was possible and insertion into my cunt was something I gave a long thought; I believed I would find pleasurable. With the long limp hooded monster in the palm of his hand, Elliott extended the offer I was hoping to hear when he asked, "Would you care to touch?"
Instead of acceptance, propriety got the better of me. Embarrassed, I did an about-face on my toes, a pirouette that would have impressed Mary Beth, my old dance teacher, and fled the scene like a frightened schoolgirl.
After dinner that evening, Peggy and I shared a retell of my embarrassment out of earshot of the rest of the family and dwelled on the possibilities. Just short of midnight, she and I decided. With the children at my parents' home in Wellsville, I felt safe, ready to indulge the fantasy. To Paul's surprise, there was a smile on my mouth as Peggy stripped away the cloth that hindered her seduction of my husband of ten years. With a hand in his shorts and firm grip on his testicles Peggy led Paul up the stairs to the master bedroom. Her thoughtful departure gave me the freedom to have my way with Elliott and the mysterious member there in his jeans.
Nothing was said as Tuesday dawned nor since. But now as I stare up at the stars on this 4th of July night I reason the events of this evening are a payback of sorts for my wandering ways. As tonight unfolds before my eyes I realize
payback
a good think; a 'thank you' for Cousin Peggy and what she taught Paul over the Memorial Day hiatus from our vows.
Matthew Morton came first, well before dusk, with kisses no one ever duplicated prior to that evening. The bright sky overhead held the two of us in check fearful of discovery. But don't fret; I came twice while with my blouse open Matthew applied his warm wet mouth over the whole of my being.
Robbie followed. Out on the patio, far from the terrace and watchful eyes, I tasted flavors on his penis never before sampled. I'm sure I tasted a woman's morning dew mixed in with Robbie's sweat.
Then Barbara, ah, dear inquisitive, bedroom-eyed Barbara and the preserves she and I put-up after the first pick at the raspberry bushes on the back fence. We smeared the jam on our junk and licked each other's sex clean of the seeds and the flavor and the coloring. This memory is slightly out of sequence but it bears repeating for what Barbara and I had was absolutely phenomenal.
And finally Jared; Jared and his untamed organ violated ever vow I made to Paul, my loving, deranged well-trained husband, once Jared finally had the nerve to ask.
Hardly a mob I reason as I recall the chronology a second time, maybe the third retell.
I am not naive. I am an accomplice to what occurred. Since the birth of our last, daughter Kristen, I've bulked up. Five mile morning runs muscled my bottom round and hard. My hips now support hip-huggers as they were meant to be worn, low on the hips nearly to the hair line. My breasts, which bloomed during that last pregnancy, fill a C cup beautifully right to the rim. My nipples are just a few degrees below the perpendicular even without the support of a bra. That 4th of July morning, while Paul watched, I cropped the auburn tangle short before donning a thigh-high denim skirt and red silk. I slipped lovely feet and French-nailed toes into wedge-heeled summer sandals. I slipped into a white cotton oxford and knotted the tails at my navel. I made clear my intent when I did a single button between bare breasts. I rolled the long sleeves up to my biceps.
"Who are you getting all dolled-up for?" Paul questioned.
"For everyone, darling'," I let slip the answer. "Everyone. Paul."
By eight, the backyard festivities are coming to a close as most of the guests make their way to the ball field at Town Park on Lincoln for the fireworks. Only a few stragglers remain for the fireworks closer to home. Unbeknownst to me sinister thoughts are bandied about in my absence, salacious thoughts searching for a place to light. Shortly thereafter, once I finish my ten-minute cleanup outdoors, I unknowingly put those thoughts into action after sending Matthew on his way.
It's after ten when I set Robbie Anderson free of the pubescent drinking game the others are engaged in at the kitchen table after he slips a warm hand beneath my skirt.
"Underwear?" he questioned. He's found me without underwear more times than I can count but he never took it further than a finger in my asshole.
I take Robbie out to the patio beside the pool without realizing there are best-laid plans at work. I sit at the foot of the chaise lounge and let him know, "I heard what you asked Barbara."
"She said 'maybe later'."
"Paul will break your legs if you try to face-fuck his sister. You should have asked me, Robbie. I hate being left out and I can keep secrets."
"Would you?" he asks with his finger on the trigger, the tarnished brass pull on the zipper of his jeans.
I look to the terrace. Finding it lacking any activity, I answer, "Yes."
Robbie wrangles his penis, already fully erect out through the fly in his BVDs. He steps up with the intention of giving me the best he has to offer. He is scented of woman and sweat. I note the unusual aftertaste when he comes in my mouth.
With a thin watery trickle balanced on my tongue, I hear Robbie admit apologetically he pleasured himself while he watched Matthew and I engage in a long wet kiss out on the terrace.
"I imagined you were kissing me, Claudia."
"I can do that, Robbie."
