I blame Marlon Brando.
I'm standing on our doorstep with my mouth hanging open. My wife came out a short time ago as "asexual", but here she was declaring her desire to get pregnant and have a baby. How much wine did she consume? Still, I didn't really want another woman, or, as events seemed to be conspiring, women. I wanted the woman I had married and with whom I was still pretty much in love. I had to believe this whole thing with her therapist and the deal with the dowager neighbor lady was just a mistaken interlude.
So I kissed her, and she kissed back. I alternately followed and then lead her up towards our bedroom. She kissed me, and I kissed back. I held her and felt her body, warm, alive, beautiful next to me. I reached up to undo a sweater button and... snap. It was like a circuit breaker blowing.
Susan's a doctor, and, in fact is working to be a trauma surgeon. I swear she could order lunch while gluing a guy's arm back on. The crisp, analytical diagnostic mind took over, and, I swear, I could almost hear her thinking, "What we have here, Jim, is an acute case of sudden onset baby fever, complicated by chronic asexual response. See that the patient hydrates and gets plenty of bedrest."
What she actually did was step back, disengage, and sigh. Then she looked up and said: "I'm sorry, honey. I led you on. I'll have to figure this out. Maybe an extra session with Ray..."
"Ray?"
"My therapist. Anyway, I'll have to figure out how we can conceive in our situation. For now... why don't you take that impressive boner down to the Widow McGill's place. Isn't that what we have our deal for? Spend the night, even. I need to figure some things out."
"Oh-kay," I replied. "Love you, hon."
"Love you too."
And then I'm slinking back out. I walk past the Batcher's place and the lights are off. I walk past Levon and Lakeisha's place and the lights are on their bedroom. I hurry past Mary's place, where the lights are on downstairs but where I have no desire to be spotted on my errand.
Cindy's place is dark.
I knock softly on the door. Nothing. I pull out my phone and text her.
A light comes on upstairs. Then some rattling around before, finally the front door cracks open.
"Didn't expect to see you tonight, junior." She's got on some sort of head wrap and she's wearing a long nightdress that leaves absolutely everything to the imagination. Maybe her toes peek out the bottom.
I explain the situation and she nods, adding, "You recall the rules, right?"
"Yep. No sex with Susan."
"But you were prepared to break the rule."
"It was a moment of weakness. But what am I supposed to do if she..."
"Nothing. She's given you the cold shoulder. You should be able to figure out how to return the favor."
"Now normally, I'd take the opportunity to give you further instruction on why you want to do that. But I'm tired. And we have other priorities we need to tend to as well. Why don't you go next door and finish what you started with the hippo?" She means Mary, of course. "You're going to have to avoid her fertile window next week and I still need to work on getting her out of our hair. Go on, I'll cover for you. As far as Susan is concerned, we shagged like minks all night."
With that, she closed the door in my face.
I slunk back to Mary's place. The lights are still on downstairs, but no evidence of Mary through the window. I'm hesitating. Honestly, I want to go home, even if it's to sleep on the sofa. The thought of actively pursuing Mary fills me with dread.
"Hsst. Knock on the door, stupid," Cindy hisses at me from her bedroom window.
Alright. I tap at the door.
There are footfalls in the hall. I hear the deadbolt unlatch. Then the door springs open and I bask in the eldritch horror.
Like Cindy, she's wearing a nightdress, only this one struggles to cover her frightening bulk. You don't need an imagination to color in what the blobs, bulges, and droopy protuberances of her fleshy body are. At least no tentacles are apparent. She sees that it's me and a feral smile lights up beneath her flat porcine nose and beady little eyes.
"I kind of, uh... need a place to crash tonight," I stutter out.
"Aw, baby, and you thought of me. Was wifey pissed that I was tugging on your wiener?"
"I don't think she knows about that. It's... something else."
"Well, don't stand there. We have unfinished business from earlier. You can crash in my bed, but you might not get any sleep."
I go in to my doom. The door latches behind me. The downstairs light switches off and I hear here treading the stairs at my back. Her bedroom, lit by a single bulb, beckons me. Into the pit of Tartarus I go.
Her bed is unmade and there is a damp spot right in the middle. Mary peeks over my shoulder and informs me, "I was pent up from our fun earlier. You should be proud: thinking of you makes me cum like a volcano."
I swallow once.
Her hands reach up from behind me, as she presses her body close. Her left hand is under my shirt and finds a nipple. She tweaks and brushes it with her fingers, making it pucker in response. It feels weirdly arousing--no one has ever played with me that way before.
No prize for guessing where the other hand is. There's some puckering in response there as well, an echo of the interrupted stimulation we'd had earlier. I feel oddly achy down there and it strikes me that I have a genuine case of blue balls. There's a massive load in there that needs to be expelled.
Mary bends me over the filthy bed and pulls my pants and underwear down. Her left hand is now stroking my cock to keep it hard while her other hand snakes back. She's poking my ass.
"It's not all about me, babe," she says. She licks her middle finger and then deftly shoves it into my virgin sphincter all the way to the second knuckle. I let out a high-pitched squeal, shocked and surprised at the violation. Her finger is practiced, and she is a virtuoso in playing my prostate. I am quivering with delirium, ready to erupt at her command.
She pulls the offending finger free, wiping it on the sheet. I'm rolling over, climbing onto the bed as she scrambles up behind me. In seconds I am buried inside her carnal hole, being ridden, all resistance gone. My hands are gripping her hips tightly. My thrusts up beneath her? Perfectly in sync with her pelvis's grind.
I shoot my seed into her.
Mary has a look of beatific bliss. I know she can feel the heat of my ejaculate filling her womb. I twitch my softening, yet still ripe, cock inside her, which puts a mischievous smile on her face. She responds with two quick vaginal squeezes.
"That was good practice for next week. Now clean your mess?" She pulls off and deftly flips around. The gibbous moon of her ass swells to eclipse the world. Between her mottled pimply butt cheeks, I see a pair of huge purple labial lips, distended with blood. The opening between them would be a dark cavern, but there is a pearlescent bolus of fresh hot semen clogging the entrance.
I reach up and guide her back, then the lights dim as an avalanche of thighs envelope my face. I thrust my mouth, tongue probing, up to meet Mary's pie.
Everything is dark and muffled, as my world is reduced to three senses. I smell the heated pheromones of a lusting woman with overtones of ass meat. I hear the squish and stir and squirt of her juices, the delicate moans of satisfaction, the creak of bedsprings shaken by enormous forces. But most of all I taste. A yeasty, somewhat rank tang of pussy. The oyster-like brine her of squirt. And the salty sweetness of my cream. I bury my face into her, trying to dive head-first into her womb.
My air is cut off and I'm drowning in Mary's nether end, worrying and pleasuring everything in reach, before shifting her aside just enough to gasp a mouthful of air. My tongue widens and swirls about her tiny clitoris, then slides back through the crevasse of her seeded fold, before stiffening to poke at a clenched brown hole. Gasp for air and reverse fields. Mary is rocking back and forth, keening her approval.
She cums. Three big long full body-shaking thigh-tensing shocks. She gushes a flood; it seems to come from everywhere. I drink it down, mixed with a taste of my own emission.
Mary collapses to one side and I slide around to face her. I let her taste our reproductive cocktail in a series of kisses.
We slept embraced like that for hours.
When I awoke, I needed desperately to pee. Silently I work my way out of Mary's arms, trying not to disturb her. I tip toe into the bathroom for relief.
I could escape. I have no idea of the hour. It's dark and the night is still. I creep back to her bed.
I pull the sheet and comforter up over Mary. In the dim lighting of the room, I look over her bulk and feel a tiny spark of protectiveness coupled with the horror of what I've done, the fuel I've thrown on her fire.
