Mrs. Hart's Ache

This is the eighteenth installment of

Mrs. Hart's Ache

Chapter IX "

…Hail! Hail! The Gangs All Here…!

"

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Author's note: see the Index of Terms for the definition of any word with which you are not familiar.

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This is a simple tale of retribution, wherein the young hero teaches the mother of his newest girlfriend a few manners while enjoying a few adventures – sexual and otherwise – along the way.

James Mark Masterson.

Just your typical teenager. Smart… sexy… sophisticated… and always horny. With the time and bank to do pretty much what he wants to do.

And to do who he wants to do.

Okay, the plans are in motion and the team is coming together to go over it all.

James has his muscle and his finesse, but most importantly, he has his base of operations.

He's ready and the ladies are rapidly catching up.

But while they're mulling the plans and they're parts, lets take a few minutes to get to know better a couple of those team members.

You've met them before, but let's get a bit more intimate with Cora and Marti.

Happy Reading.

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Chapter IX "

…Hail! Hail! The Gangs All Here…!

"

"…As a lady once said, Que sera, sera…"

When I walked out of the FedEx Office, we were committed. I did a status check, and found myself both eager and confident. My team was set, and they were good. All that remained was to fill them in. The bass was bumpin' again as I drove over to pick up Cassandra. She was waiting by the front counter, and paused only long enough to lock the door before hopping in the Miata.

We stopped to get the takeout, then to pickup a couple of cases of beer, and two bottles of a particularly fine Bordeaux that I knew Gwendolyn would like. The drive to her place took about a half hour in rush-hour traffic, but we got there shortly after five. Three vehicles were parked in a graveled area near the house: an old beater pickup Gwendolyn uses to haul things, her Lexus SUV and a bright red Corvette.

Saundra was wearing drawstring pants of loose-weave coarse white cotton that rode low on her hips, and a royal blue croptop tee that left her flat belly bare. Nice abs. Saundra wears thongs. The strings rode high on her hips. The pants were see-through. Nice pooper. No fuzz showing. Hhmmmm.

Don't get your hopes up James. Straight sex with a guy ain't her scene. Down Mr Snake, down boy!

Gwendolyn had been home long enough to change into a pair of khaki cargo shorts that sat low on her hips, and an off-the-shoulder peasant's blouse. She and Saundra were sitting in the garden talking over glasses of wine when we came up the gravel drive. Her dogs, Bruno, Lady and Fritz a trio of purebred German Shepherds, lay on the grass at their feet.

The dogs rose up on their haunches, ears high, when they heard the engine, but settled again at a word from their Mistress when Gwendolyn recognized my car. Gwendolyn doesn't worry about security, though her house is a bit remote. Those are

big

dogs, and very well trained.

We put the food in the oven to keep it warm, and iced the beer in a big cooler, then sat discussing the plan over a glass of wine in Gwendolyn's big front room. I was right about the Bordeaux.

Saundra's dark eyes narrowed as she watched the action on my laptop, but began dancing as she listened to the basic outline of the plans. She was immediately enthusiastic. It was obvious that she was already making her own plans. I could almost feel sorry for Marco. My homeboy was going to regret meeting Summer May before we were done with him.

The whites started to show in Cassandra's eyes as I spoke. I hadn't given her any of the details, just that she would be assisting in disciplining a few people. It was apparent to all that she was getting excited as she listened to the plans unfold.

Shortly before six Maxine's pickup roared up the driveway in a cloud of dust. Cora was beside her and Marti was in the rear seat. It's a good thing the truck is a big diesel duelie with a crew cab. It needed the power to pull the weight, and all three of those ladies sitting in one seat together would find it a very tight squeeze.

Time out.

I guess it's about time to fill you in on my "sister's" Cora and Marti. You know them as a couple of rather large ladies who happen to be lesbians, but that doesn't tell you much. Here's some of what I know:

Interlude: My Pal Cora

First, there's Cora: she and Maxine met in the service. Cora was a CE2 in Maxine's SeaBee Company until her enlistment was up about this time last year. Now she works as a journeyman electrician here in town.

We celebrated her birthday about a week ago. She's 23. She's also the smallest of the three at about 5'11" 260 on a stocky frame. At a distance, Cora actually looks smaller than she is because she's chunky, built a bit like a fire plug. She has both wide shoulders and a wide… 'beam', shall we say.

She does get a little narrower in between her tits and her ass, but the last time Cora wore pants with a 20" waist was when she was four. There ain't a lot of fat there though. She does have a bit of a pooch from too much beer, but there is also a lot of muscle beneath the padding.

Her tits are on the small side. I'd guess she's about a B cup. She keeps her dark brown hair cut short and away from her square face. She has soft brown eyes and amazingly long eyelashes. With her face and build, one might expect her to be a stone bull dyke, but Cora has a feminine side. She's only comfortable showing that side to a few people that she trusts. Cora trusts me.

I like her; she likes me. We are friends, good friends I think.

The trait I find most appealing in Cora is her loyalty. If she befriends you, you're a friend for life. She doesn't have a whole lot of male friends. Cora didn't know me from a doorknob. But when she heard about the Erin's scene in the parking lot with Larry, Moe and Stupid, Cora made a point of tracking me down to thank me personally for what I'd done. That's class. Erin told me later that it was Cora's idea to adopt me into the 'sisterhood'.

The night of the incident, I'd mentioned to my parents that there had been a dustup in the parking lot after class, but I hadn't gone into details. I just left it that I'd been a witness to an assault, the police were involved and that there was a faint chance that I might be called as a prosecution witness. I didn't want Mom to be upset, so I downplayed the whole thing.

Two evenings later, the doorbell rang. Dad was out back doing something. Mom and I had just finished the dishes. She said that she'd get it, so I went out to help Dad. Mom answered the door, and there was Cora.

About a half-hour later, Mom called me into the house. Her eyes were glistening a bit. She had a funny-strange kind of half smile on her face. If I didn't know better, I'd have sworn that she was on the verge of tears, but she didn't look sad, she looked... I don't know, happy, or proud maybe. She reached up to kiss my cheek. I asked her what was up, but she just laid her hand my cheek for a moment, then told me that there was someone in the Living Room waiting to talk to me. Then she went out back to Dad.

Curious, I walked into the Living Room to find a rather large young woman perched on the couch sipping a cup of coffee. She looked like a Defensive Tackle with tits. She stood to shake my hand and introduce herself. Her voice was surprisingly normal for a woman. You'd think with that barrel chest it would be deeper.

I looked again, trying to be as objective as I could. Yep, definitely a Tackle. Too blocky to be a Linebacker. Big enough to play college ball anyway. Looked to be in shape too.

We'd never met, so I didn't fully appreciate the extent that she'd gone to, to dress for the occasion. The blazer, blouse and loose pleated slacks she wore fit perfectly and were feminine in cut. Her short hair was neatly styled. Cora wasn't wearing makeup, but there was no doubt that she was female. Just not your typical female.

We sat down again, and Cora got right to the point. She told me that Erin was a friend of hers, not close but still, a friend. She said that if there was anything she could ever do to help repay the debt, all I had to do was ask.

Of course, I waved it away, saying that anyone would have done exactly the same thing. I just happened to be the one to come along at the right time.

But she shook her head and told me something that I hadn't known. Apparently at least five other people had seen what was happening, and did nothing more than get in their cars and drive away. One, a girl, drove up long enough to yell at them to stop. But Stupid flashed his knife and told her to get lost and keep her fucking mouth shut, or they'd find her and do her next.

Then he turned on Erin as the girl raced away. He told her that they were each going to fuck her three ways, then keep her nipples for souvenirs. Since she was a fucking dyke, she had no need for them anyway.

The girl in the car must have believed Stupid's threat. Neither she, nor any of the others bothered to call 911 right away. It wasn't until almost an hour later that Emergency Services logged the first call. Anonymous, of course. Another followed ten minutes later. That was it. No other calls.

I was the only one who had jumped in right there while it was happening. I hadn't thought about it; I just did it. Going one on three with those goons was the right thing to do. Some would say stupid maybe, but if I hadn't been there, Erin would have been gang raped, probably mutilated and possibly murdered. Couldn't let that happen. No way.

It shook me that no other witness bothered to help until far too late. I guess the world is more dangerous than I had imagined. At least more indifferent.

Time out.

In the event you care to read a blow-by-blow account of this dust up, read Chapter I of this missive.

Time in.

Anyway, having said what she'd come to say, Cora rose to leave. She turned at the door to shake my hand again. She held it for a moment longer than necessary, looked my right in the eye, and told me to remember what she had said: if I ever needed help, to let her know.

As she walked down the front steps it occurred to me that she had been talking to Mom for some time. I asked Cora what she had said to her.

Cora turned and for the first time gave me that Cora grin that I've come to know and love. Then she said,

"Oh nothing much. I just told her that she had a helluva good guy for a son, and to make sure that you kept Saturday night open. That's the night we introduce new members to the local chapter."

I must have looked puzzled, because her grin got wider. Then she hit me with it.

"We're working out the details," she continued, "but don't worry. We'll fix it. Saturday night you come out of the closet. You'll be a full-fledged card-carrying lesbian, with the papers to prove it." Then she turned and walked away giggling.

It was a great party.

Mom and Dad were invited too. All being ex-Navy, Dad, Maxine and Cora hit it off right away. Those three give Marti a bad time, but she takes it in stride. She calls them "the squids" and they call her "the jarhead". Being an honorary one-star Marine, Mom's on Marti's side.

Game, set and match: Marti.

All three ladies address Dad as "Master Chief", which tickles him no end. He calls Maxine "Lieutenant", which makes her smile and stand a little straighter; or "Ma'am", which the other two think is a hoot.

Of course, Cora and Mom were buds from the first moment. But Mom being Mom made friends with half the women there. I say half, because they only stayed for a couple of hours. She didn't have time to meet them all.

Erin escorted her around. Like I said before, since the party, those two have become close. Erin's mother cut her off when she came out of the closet. Mom fills that gap. I think she fills the gap for many of the sisters. Particularly the younger ones. She's that way.

Mom never had a daughter. Now she's got a roomful. Makes her happy. Them too.

Interlude: My Pal Marti

Which brings us to my homey Marti: She's 6'2" about 270. She wears her short thick black hair, about collar length with a part on the left. She has dark green eyes with tiny gold flecks, under heavy black eyebrows. The timbre of her voice is in the lower octave range.

Marti's 28 going on 12. Where Cora is the serious one, Marti is spontaneous and loves practical jokes, particularly those played on someone else. When those gold flecks are twinkling, you know something is about to happen to someone. Marti green eyes are usually dancing.

She first met Maxine on a road trip with the local chapter of the Dykes on Bykes. Marti owns a '64 Pan Head that she has restored to the original condition. It's her baby. She only rides it on special occasions. For everyday use, she tools around on her Lowrider, or in her classic '68 Shelby Mustang convertible.

Marti is the least chubby one in the posse. Not that I'd say that she's a lightweight. At 280 she's about 10 pounds over her fighting weight, but an active duty Marine tends to keep his or her self in top shape. Like her buds Maxine and Cora, Marti has a lot of muscle too. Her upper arms are almost as big as her partner Tiffany's thighs. Marti's body carries those extra pounds as padding for the most part. Except her belly, where she's developed a little tiny pooch since she left the service. Some of that extra padding has also concentrated in her tits. She is at least a 42D.

Back when she was in shape, Marti was a Staff Sergeant in the Marine Corps. She had meant to make a career of it. She was jet engine mechanic. A good one, and a good Marine. But she got caught up in the 'Don't Ask; Don't Tell' nonsense. In her case, it was mostly her own fault though. She got caught doing an officer's wife.

Oops.

Worse for her career, the he was a Second Lieutenant not a year of the Academy, and they were caught by him in his bed.

Big Oops.

The 2nd LT was not happy finding his sweet little wife in his bed naked with someone else.

As an officer, he was understandably upset that she was doing the horizontal bop with one of the troops.

As a man, he was particularly pissed that the troop boinking his wife was another female using a strap-on.

All of that was bad enough to come home to find. But what completely enraged him was that the dildo obviously giving his wife so much pleasure – very apparently more pleasure than he had ever given her: she was wailin' like a banshee – was twice as big as his own dick.

Oowwee! That really slammed his male ego bone.

He was supposed to be out in the field for a couple of weeks on maneuvers, but he broke his arm diving into a hole a bit too aggressively when the mortar shells started popping. He was airlifted back to the base hospital, then decided to surprise his wife with a little 'afternoon delight'.

He surprised her alright.

Mrs 2nd LT was 22, a gorgeous little blond with big blue eyes and pointy tits the size of softballs on a 5'2" frame. She had been a cheerleader, and the Homecoming queen at a small private college her daddy helped finance. Of course she was also a member of the most popular and exclusive sorority on campus. Not surprisingly, it also had been her mother's sorority . Having gotten everything she ever wanted all her life, she was more than a bit spoiled too.

As Miss Sorority Queen, the future Mrs 2nd LT had found making grades in college was a bit of a drag. She did manage to eke out a degree in Art Appreciation. To her credit, she didn't use her political connections to graduate.

She was a bit more direct: she fucked half the faculty and staff. The important half.

Included in her conquests were the President of the college and the Dean of Women. The President is a fine Southern gentleman, as old as and a close friend of her daddy. He had watched her grown from a baby. He had also carried a secret lech for her since she was twelve.

To watch the object of his long affection strip to her waist and fall to her knees between his thighs, wrap her cupid lips around his straining penis and suck the cum from his testicles with her bountiful breasts quivering in his hands was the stuff of his most erotic dreams. He was able to live that dream many times over the four years of her college education. He so enjoyed fondling her firm young breasts as he felt her lips and tongue pulling at his straining erection.

The only thing that was a tiny bit bothersome to him was that Miss Sorority Queen definitely did not swallow. She was a spitter. But that was a small price to pay for the exquisite joy she provided. Besides, it proved that she was a Lady.

The Dean was and is a rather prim and proper Southern Lady who has a secret lech of her own: young, white girls, each more beautiful than the last. Especially sweet young beautiful blond girls with pointy breasts and tasty pussies.

Miss Sorority Queen found that experience particularly enjoyable. While stretched across the Dean's desk with her frilly thong dangling from one ankle and her naked asscheeks clutched firmly in the Deans hands, she made an earth-shaking discovery: a woman knew quite well which buttons to push, and how to push them with her lips, fingers and tongue.

She liked the sensation so much that she made a habit of visiting the Dean's office. Frequently. Over the four years of her undergraduate education Miss Sorority Queen was often a welcome guest in the Dean's home. Her bed too.

Nice bed. King. Very comfortable. Lots of down pillows to lie back upon.

But Miss Sorority Queen was also smart enough to know that daddy would not approve. At all.

Certainly there was no future in it. She would never make it to the social or political heights to which she aspired on the arm of another woman. She fully intended to be either Mrs General Officer like her intended mother-in-law (whomever she might be), or Mrs Senior Senator like her mother. Preferably both.

Besides, though she did love the sensation of a tongue caressing her clit, she also loved the sensation of a man's long, thick cock churning in her juicy little pussy. And the longer and thicker, the better. She had discovered the joys of a big cock while riding cowgirl atop the loins of a studley young black man who helped keep the grounds at the school.

One day she met the future 2nd LT at a sorority function, and decided that he was perfect for her long range plans: he was rich. He was handsome. Best of all, he was the eldest son of an established Southern family, with deep roots in the ante bellum South and the US Military. For five generations, back to the Civil War, his antecedents had been General Officers, the last four, Marines. He had connections equal to hers. With those connections, she was certain that she – well they – would make it to the top in record time.

The only drawback she could discover, was that his dick was about half the size of her black lover's. She discovered that giving him a hand job on their third date. She waited that long, because she was in the 'hard-to-get' mode.

But things got harder after the wedding. The daily life of a Mrs 2nd LT as not at all what she'd pictured it to be. Certainly not the social sense. Nor was it the kind of life to which she was accustomed as Miss Sorority Queen. She was actually expected to

do

things, instead of having things done for her.

Worse, in stead of being the center of attention, she was now a wife, the appendage of a man. He had star billing in the setup. The entire arrangement very much rankled. It is quite a gap between being the wife of a brand spanking new Second Lieutenant and the wife of a brand spanking new Lieutenant General, like her mother-in-law.