Wendy Ch 09

{Weekly visits to Wendy’s apartment had become the customary way to spend his Friday nights. What began as meetings between lawyer and client had evolved into the recounting of sexual experiences and even the re-enactment of certain encounters. Seeing her in high heels, Cotton had casually suggested they partake in a wall job. On this evening, Wendy had donned the house dress with thirteen buttons down the front and high heals in preparation for the event. Wendy could not go through with it but she didn’t want him to leave. She coaxed him to relive one of the nights in the sewing room with Mrs. P. Wendy slept through most of the telling, until....}

“COTTON, I SAID NO!”

“MOM,” followed by knocking that rattled the door, “MOM, are you all right?”

Wendy stirred. Her right cheek aglow, reddened by the arm rest of the love seat during her nap. In my exuberance to relate the details of the night Mrs. P and I got caught in the sewing room, I had awaken her.

Wendy gazed at me blankly, stretched and yawned. She had slept through my telling of the night Mrs. P and I were interrupted while sharing an intimate moment. Recalling that night, I got carried away with the telling and had used the same voice level as Mrs. P when she yelled, “COTTON, I SAID NO!”

I had forgotten that she was asleep. Wendy had not heard the details that lead up to the outburst and seemed irritated to be awakened. Clearly, I was boring her; I rose to leave.

“Where are you going?” I heard her ask, her voice rising in that childish habit that always annoyed me. “What were you saying about a door rattling?” I returned to my seat and watched her yawn again.

Her dress had risen above her knees during her slumber. She sat up and laid the blanket aside, the one I had used to cover her. Knowing that she was not wearing panties, I paid attention to how much of her ample thighs were showing. She caught me staring but did nothing to dissuade my attention. In fact, she placed her bare feet on the coffee table and smiled, “now, where were we?”

Not knowing exactly when she had fallen to sleep, I recounted the earlier events that led up to the frenzied knocking on the door, followed by, “MOM, are you all right?”

The night had been carefully planned by Lydia. She had maneuvered invitations for her children to spend the night with friends in order for us to have the sewing room alone. Surrendering to her untamed desires, Lydia had schemed to surprise me with her new resolve to bring enjoyment to her harbored life. She had given me two choices: her room upstairs with no lights or the sewing room, with light. I chose the sewing room.

First, there was the soft light, just strong enough to light the room without casting a shadow. I noticed it as we entered the room. I also noticed the window blinds had been drawn. Amused at my approving whistle, she closed the door and came to me, molding her athletic body to mine. “I promised you light but there’s another surprise,” she whispered.

Pushing away from my embrace, she moved to the small table that held the light and produced a package of condoms which she brought to me for my inspection. I had never heard of the brand; the package of 12 looked expensive.

Several questions crossed my mind but I restrained myself from posing them, not sure how Lydia would take it if I jokingly ask, ‘twelve, how long do you expect these to last us? or ‘don’t you trust the rubbers I carry in my socks?’

Lydia watched me, expectantly. Not wanting to disappoint her, I opened the package, removed one of the condoms and smiled my approval. She answered my third question. “There’s another package in my room in case you were wondering,” she said, edging near to be kissed.

I stroked her back and kissed her neck, eager to make use of the condom. “How long do you think 24 rubbers will last, I joked.”

“Not long,” she answered, laughing, “if you’re a good boy.” She took the package and returned it the table drawer, leaving me with the one condom that I had removed.

“That’s still not the surprise,” she said, moving back close to me. “Unbutton my dress,” she whispered, playfully darting her tongue into my mouth.

Distracted by her searching tongue, I labored with the top button. Soon I had the second button open was rewarded with the surprise. A black lace bra barely covered the outer regions of her nipples, exposing the upper half of her breasts to my hungry eyes and lips.

Lydia rose on her tiptoes to offer the soft fibrous tissue above the lace. She held my head there for a few seconds before reminding me of the task at hand. I gladly continued to unfasten the buttons and was rewarded with the sight of black lace matching panties that hugged a small portion of her mid section. Again, I paused to place wet kisses on her tummy, then her thighs, coming to a stop at her crotch. Lydia gasp in delight.

I flung the dress to the floor and reached for her, wanting to cup her nearly bare ass in my hands. But Lydia detached herself and with exaggerated strides, pranced the length of the room, turned and swayed back to me, turning slowly, proudly smiling, eyes gleaming, milking my attention which was freely given.

I was able to extract the condom from my pocket as Lydia removed my clothes, swiftly and without pretension, right down to my jockey shorts. My arms encircled her lithe, compact body, my left hand trying to master the mechanism that held the narrow bra strap together and my right hand examining the area below the lace that partially covered her ass cheeks.

Wendy cleared her throat, bringing me back to the present. She was sitting in the same position, her bare feet resting on the coffee table. Her dress had slipped up into her lap. I sped up the story and brought my full attention to her reaction to the telling, testing my ability to turn her on.

I discovered the secret to unlatching the bra clasp and soon Mrs. P’s tits were released, falling only slightly as the support was removed. I wasted no time in circling the nipples and drawing them between my lips. Lydia’s arms were roaming; she eased my shorts over my swollen cock and dropped them to my ankles. Our undergarments were tossed in opposite directions without regard for where they landed. We groped, kissed and fondled one another wildly.

My attention was drawn to Wendy who was leaning back, eyes closed and mouth open. I wondered if she had gone back to sleep until I noticed her hand moving slowly around her crotch.

Lydia bent to remove the coverlet from the cot, with the intention of placing it on the floor as we had done before. But when I suggested we use the cot she did not resist. Soon, she was on her back on the cot and I was between her legs, paying homage to those marvelous appendages that adorned her chest.

Wendy slowly unbuttoned two buttons of the dress and eased one hand inside. The other hand was still positioned at her pussy, making circling motions against the cloth.

The squeaking of the old cot was disconcerting to me but Lydia seemed to pay no attention to the creaking springs as I moved down her body, alternating soft and loud smacking kisses to her mid section, then to her inner thighs and around the newly shaven, another surprise, love region. She purred and moaned as I got closer and closer to her pussy.

Wendy’s voice was horse and faint but I clearly heard her hum as she unbuttoned more buttons and stuck the other hand inside the dress. I tried to maintain the same cadence as I continued to relate the events of the evening two years past.

The noises the cot was making as I moved over it soon faded from my conscious state but I was very aware of the reaction my attentions were having on Mrs. P. We had both abandoned our suppression of expression because, unlike our past love making when the children had been asleep upstairs, we had the house to ourselves. Lydia was letting herself go; praising me with each lap of her slit.

Wendy had six of the thirteen buttons unfastened and was twisting her nipples, alternating between them. One finger and her thumb were moving in and around her pussy and clit.

Lydia’s legs were drawn up, giving me maximum access to her love tunnel. Licking furiously, I was rewarded to see the little nub poke out. My second flick produced a shriek, a flood of sweet liquid and the thunderous pounding as her heals hit the thin mattress, simultaneously.

Lydia implored me to stop but I was relentless. I continued to flick her clit and she came again and again. She screamed, ‘we’ll fuck, okay?, please stop, let’s fuck!” Her strong legs clamped my head but I was still able to reach her most sensitive area with my tongue. I only stopped when I heard: “COTTON, I SAID NO!”

“MOM,” followed by knocking that rattled the door, “MOM, are you all right?”

Distracted, Wendy’s hands stopped moving and her eyes opened. She stared in my direction as if to question what I was saying.

We froze, too dazed to know what was happening, too stunned to react. Then my heart began to beat again, flooding my head with near explosive pounding. Neither of us could move. There was frightful shock on Lydia’s face and mine must have expressed the same. The door rattled again, “Mom, are you okay?”

I stumbled to my feet, causing the cot to squeak. Our clothes were strewn around the cot. Lydia could not seem to move, her viginal region glistening, her tits giggling but she was immobile. I picked up the dress and threw it to her as I slammed my body against the door, causing a clatter as the old door settled against the jam. I threw the latch and tried to breath.

The door knob turned and there was pounding on the other side of the door, “Mom, let me in, what’s wrong, mom?”

Wendy sat upright and closed her legs. “Who was it? At the door, I mean?”

This was the reaction I wanted, I had her full attention. I went on to explain how Lydia had made it to her feet, searched aimlessly for the sleeves to the dress. Her naked body was trembling and her face showed absolute terror.

I went to her, helped to slide her arms into the dress and fumbled with the buttons. “Say something,” I whispered, “say you’re coming or something.”

“I’m coming,” she said, her voice sounding feeble and far away. We had six of the buttons fastened but one at the top was through the wrong button buttonhole, throwing the others off by one.

The doorknob was being twisted from the other side and the pounding continued.

I was still naked and looked for a place to hide. It was a strange feeling, being naked with a limp cock. There was no time to pick up our clothes. I took a place at the door and motioned with my fingers for Lydia to open it only about two inches. Together, we unlatched the lock. Lydia stuck her nose in the crack and became motheringly. She spoke to Lisa in a surprisingly calm tone and explained that she was working on something for her daughter, a surprise as she put it. Then she turned the table by asking Lisa what she was doing there.

Lisa and the girl she was staying overnight with had run out of finger nail polish and were there to pick up a bottle of a special color. The girl’s mother was waiting in the car. “Got to go, mom,” I heard from the other side of the door.

Wendy was let down, expecting fireworks to go off. “That was all there was to it?” she asked, showing disappointment.

“Well, not exactly, Lydia was a wreck. I’m surprised that the girl didn’t question why her hair was matted and the blood was drained from her face.

“Did you get to fuck her?” Wendy’s eyes were wide and I could tell that this was the only part of the story that she was interested in so I skipped over the half hour it took to settle Lydia down and coax her to let me remove the dress. First, she had made me put my clothes on and follow her around the house. ‘What if Lisa had opened the door?’ She blamed herself for not locking the sewing room door. She also blamed herself for carrying on a lewd affair with me, a boy half her age.

“Yes,” I said, “we fucked.”

“How many times?”

“Twice, I believe,” I answered.

“Tell me about that,” Wendy’s face was wide-eyed, childlike.

We went back to the sewing room. She locked the door and turned the lamp off. I didn’t argue about the light. In the dark she found the coverlet and spread it out on the floor, then turned to me to be held. We kissed and I stroked her back for what seemed like a lifetime. She was still tense but there was an overriding desire that eventually surfaced.

She undressed me, slowly, deliberately. Carefully, she removed the condom from my pants pocket before placing them in a pile of my clothes next to the coverlet. She let me unbutton the dress at the same pace. As I lifted it over her shoulders she took it from me and placed it on the stack of my clothes.

Together, we sank to the coverlet and held one another, kissing and exploring as if it was our first time together.

“If I didn’t want this so much I would have kicked you out,” she whispered in the dark, finding my prick which had fully recovered. “This is what I want,” still whispering, stroking me with her small hand. Together, we rolled the rubber up my cock and she stroked me again.

I found her slit moist, opening to my touch. She shivered, sinking her teeth into my shoulder.

In the dark she guided me to her opening. Slowly, I pressed forward until we were joined and I was buried to the hilt. Holding me there, “this is what I want,” she whispered.

We stayed like that, enjoying the feeling of the union. Gently, she gripped me and released me, gripped and released. We kissed and she gripped and released. “This is what I want,” she repeated.

I begin to move in short strokes until I felt her ankles against my butt cheeks, a signal to stop. Again, I felt the walls of her pussy collapse around my cock, grabbing, releasing. In the darkness I heard her whisper, “this is what I want.”

“She made me cum that way, gripping and releasing, gripping and releasing,” I said, watching for a reaction from Wendy. “That’s so sweet,” she said, “so tender,” she added thoughtfully.

Then she snapped out of it, recalling, “you said you fucked her twice, what about the second time?”

I was tired of talking. The change in her demeanor, from dreamy to lively, was unsettling. My scheme was unraveling. Wendy, always the lawyer, was outwitting me with her line of questioning. My plans to describe my sexual exploits with Mrs. P, get her hot and wanting and then seduce her were backfiring.

“Tell me about the second time,” she insisted, leaning forward in anticipation. The buttons on her dress were still undone but she was no longer fondling herself.

My mood changed, I became angry. Angry at myself for divulging secrets. Angry at myself for entertaining this pompous, spoiled woman with stories of my past sexual encounters. Still angry at Wendy for terminating the ‘wall job’ earlier that evening.

“It was nothing special, we fucked doggy style and I went home, end of story.”

“In the dark?” She just wouldn’t stop.

“Yes,” I answered, “in the dark.”

“With a rubber?”

“Yes, with a rubber, she insisted on it,” I said, recalling the discussion we had and me giving in and using one of the condoms Lydia had bought.”

“Was it good? Was it a good fuck?”

“Why the fuck do you want to know all the details, haven’t I told you enough?” I erupted. Seeing her taken back, I added, sarcastically, “yes, it was good.”

“Then you went home? Is that what you said?”

“God, can’t you give it a rest, I went home but not immediately. I didn’t just pull out and say, see you later.”

“Oh,” she said, nodding, “that’s good, I didn’t think you would leave without talking awhile, that’s good, I’m glad you didn’t just leave.” She smiled, almost laughing, “I’m glad you didn’t just pull out and say, see you later, you’re too considerate for that.”

I had to laugh. “Considerate, is that what you think of me?”

“What did you talk about?”

“Fuck,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief, “don’t you ever stop?”

“Tell me.”

It was getting late and I had to work the next day. “It’s been a long time, I’m not sure what we talked about but I believe that is the night she told me her children would be going out west to visit their father. They would be gone for a month and we would have the house to ourselves.”

Wendy nodded, satisfied with my answer. It was then that I recalled what I had said when I learned that the children would be gone for a month during the summer. ‘Better buy some more of those rubbers,’ I had joked.

But I did not tell this to Wendy. Suddenly, she rose and picked up the blanket that I had covered her with when she had gone to sleep earlier. She casually spread it on the floor in front of the coffee table and gave me a wink. Then she walked to the side of the room and switched off the lights. Except for the light form the clock on the kitchen stove, the room was in darkness.

I kicked off my shoes and we met at the blanket. Like her body, her lips were soft and ample. We stood toe to toe, kissing, probing and exploring. Wendy undressed me, methodically, neatly stacking my clothes in a pile next to the blanket. The dress was shortly added to the pile.

“This is what I want,” she whispered, gripping my cock in her hand and stroking gently. She moaned as I leaned down to bring her nipples to full extension. Together, we unrolled a rubber on my cock and kneeled to the blanket. “This is what I want,” she whispered as she guided the tip of my cock to her opening. It was apparent that she was still well lubricated from playing with herself earlier.

With a mixture of short stabs, grunts and shifting of her capacious rump, I was in. Knowing she wanted to savor the feel, I remained still for a long time. When I begin to move in her with slow short strokes she wrapped her legs around mine to halt my movements. “Don’t move, let me do it, this is what I want,” she whispered as she gripped and released my length.

I laid still and let her have me, felling her grip and release. Each time I made the slightest movement she entwined my legs with hers and murmured, “don’t move, this is what I want!”

She worked on me for ages, trying to duplicate the expert muscle work Mrs. P had rendered to my cock. Since she wouldn’t let me move within her my only option was to support my body just above hers and enjoy the feeling. She grunted and squirmed and opened her legs wider to me bring me deeper. Proclaiming, “this is what I want!”

It was good but I couldn’t stand it much longer. I had the urge to jerk loose from her feeble restraints and pound the holy shit our of her. But that would tell her that she had failed. She was trying so hard to get me off I didn’t have the heart to tell her she didn’t have Mrs. P’s technique. I was content to let her squeeze and release my cock; she seemed to be getting the hang of it. And, she was clearly enjoying herself, repeating, “this is what I want!”

Wendy was working so hard, grunting, sweating and breathing hard that she let her rather boundless butt roll. This created the slight movement I was hoping for. ‘Could I give us some short strokes without her knowing?’ She detected my intent immediately and clamped her legs around mine. There was one long final squeeze before her legs released me and I felt her hands pulling me in. As I begin long hard strokes I heard her say, “this is what I want!”

“Is this what you want?” I yelled as I pounded her.

“YESSSSS,” she screamed and I knew she was cuming.

We talked for some time. She volunteered to tell me about her second time, a subject that had come up weeks before but had been dropped. We sat close on the blanket and pulled it up over our shoulders. She began slowly.

It happened at the beginning of her second year of law school. There was a study group formed and Wendy found herself matched with two other females and two males. They met two times each week and as the term progressed the group often socialized together on Friday or Saturday night. One of the girls was a knock-out and took her pick of the guys. This left Jeff, the other guy, to look after Wendy and rather plain but well dimensioned girl named Nancy when the group went to a party or a movie together.