Flamingos Ch 11

"A year and a day?" I asked, understanding the words but in the dark about their meaning.

She smiled and said, "oh David, my English is very good and you understood what I said. You're just playing for time."

Which, of course, I was.

"Exclusive?" I asked.

"Oh, don't be silly," she said, "we both have our needs and we'd get bored. But mostly, yes, and with a special intimacy I don't normally share."

It was interesting, at that point. Here I was, my erection laying against those big soft labia, wanting her very much, but also fascinated by this conversation.

"Ummmmmm," I said, "we've been pretty damned intimate."

She smiled at that and said, "Oh honey, you ain't seen nuthin' yet. But I need your answer. Will you offer me a year and a day?"

"I can't," I said and I could hear the regret in my own voice. God knows I felt it.

"Because of Paula?" she asked.

"Of course," I said, and again, regret was thick in my voice.

She giggled and said, "oh, don't you worry your pretty head about that, David."

I said nothing, just met her eyes with my eyebrows raised.

"Baby," she said, "Frederick was quite taken with her, and trust me when I say she'll be the one asking you if it's okay."

When I said nothing she added, "he has that effect on women."

I thought for a few seconds and then said, "yes. If Paula says yes, then yes, you have your year and a day."

She wrapped her legs around me then, her heels digging into my ass, demanding.

"Then give your Goddess what she wants," she said and her grin right then was predatory.

I reached down and guided myself into her.

"Say you love me," she said.

I kissed her, not moving now, our bodies joined but neither of us feeling any urgency for climax. I covered her face with kisses and whispered "I love you" as I traced the shell of her ear with my tongue.

And I realized that I meant it. "I love you," I said again and she replied, "again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you."

"Again."

And she came, suddenly, unexpectedly, explosively. Her mouth was open in a silent scream and I thrust, hard, each thrust making an audible slap of my belly against hers and an audible splash she was so wet.

She came again, just as explosively, her entire body rigid, her back arching, pushing that big soft belly against me.

I leaned back enough to support myself on my legs and grabbed those big tits, squeezing hard enough to make her groan and make her milk flow. I grabbed both of those huge areolas and started milking her, watching those thin streams of her milk squirt onto her belly and run off onto the sheet.

She came again, this time crying out my name. Her fingernails dug into my back and I arched to escape the pain. I wondered if she had drawn blood as I came. I didn't last, of course. My body had done about as much as could be expected of it. I was panting, exhausted myself, and she was breathing in little whistling gasps.

I softened and slipped out and I rolled off of her, laying my head on the warm fat cushion of her upper arm and finding her nipple with my mouth.

And slept the sleep of the completely exhausted.

I woke with a soft shaking on my shoulder.

"Better wake up, baby," she said softly, "we have company."

I opened my eyes and my Goddess was a mess. She had lost her other false eyelash, there was a crust around both nostrils, there was a wet line from the corner of her mouth down her cheek where she had apparently been drooling in her sleep, and she smelled of sweat and semen and pussy and bedfarts.

I kissed her and said, "good morning, beautiful."

She giggled and said, "good morning, handsome."

I felt the movement in the trailer and knew she had been right, we had company.

I went into the bathroom, peed, rinsed my mouth, thought about putting on some clothes, thought "fuck it," and walked into the front room.

Paula was naked, pouring coffee into two cups.

Fred was naked, sitting on the couch.

I was naked, moving to the Keurig machine for coffee of my own.

Ashley came into the room, naked, and I was surprised to see she hadn't washed her face.

As I watched, Paula handed Fred a cup and then sank to the floor, sitting on her feet and laying her cheek against his knee.

And that scene from M*A*S*H, the movie, when Joanne Pflug, playing Lieutenant Dish, got on the helicopter after her night with the Painless Pole, the dentist, famous for his bedroom capability flashed into my mind.

I don't think Paula's eyes were focused. As I watched she turned and kissed his erect cock. I did a double-take. He had no balls.

Ashley came up behind me, put her arms around me, and said sotto voce, not really a whisper, "he's always like that."

It was like Paula came out of a trance. She focused on me, stood, and came to me. She stood, looking up into my eyes for a second, and then put her palms flat on my cheeks and said, "Frederick," and I couldn't help but notice that she used his full name, "has asked for a year and a day. I said I had to talk to you."

I smiled and decided to make this interesting.

"That's a long time," I said and had trouble not laughing as her face fell.

"You'd have Ashley," she said, looking up, and here was one of those words you read but never really use, beseechingly.

"She's not you," I said.

"Okay," she said and I could see her eyes brimming with tears as she started to turn away.

"I'm sorry," I said, kissing her, "it was a bad joke. Yes, Paula, yes, you can have your year and a day."

What followed was the strangest conversation I ever had. I made fresh coffee and then we sat in sort of a triangle, with Paula on the floor between Fred's knees making one corner, Ashley in the recliner another, and me on a kitchen table on the other. Not a stitch of clothes between us.

"He's a priapist," Ashley said, pointing to Fred's erection. "He had testicular cancer as a boy, very VERY rare, and they had to be removed. But the side effect, and again, VERY VERY rare, was priapism. He has a prostate gland intact, so he can ejaculate, and he HAS to do that about every four hours or it gets too painful for him."

She giggled then and pointed at Paula who was doing her Lieutenant Dish imitation again.

"He has that effect on women," she added.

We talked of logistics then, as I made breakfast.

We agreed that Fred and Paula would take their fancy A class motor home later that day and Ashley and I would stay here for a few days. Then, for the next year and a day, we would keep each other updated and we set a date to meet again and, well, trade back.

As we were talking, Fred started squirming and said, "help me, Paula."

I watched as my wife took his cock into her mouth and started masturbating him with it.

Ashley said, "don't worry, baby, she's sort of cockwhipped now, but it gets old. She'll be ready for you when we get back together."

I was so fascinated I almost burned the eggs, watching as her head bobbed up and down.

I wound up preparing three plates, scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, and handing them around. Ashley and I ate at the little table, and Fred ate holding his plate. Paula kept at his cock.

We ate and talked in an oddly casual manner. When we were done I gathered and washed the dishes. We talked a bit more and then, suddenly, Fred hissed and Paula pulled off and accepted his ejaculation on her face. It was milky and runny and dripped off of her chin. I thought she looked amazing.

When I saw him soft I realized he wasn't particularly big, which surprised me on some level.

There wasn't much left to say so Paula gathered up her wardrobe. It's not like we carry a lot of clothes in a travel trailer. It all fit in a couple of suitcases, mostly shorts, T-shirts, and underwear.

She pulled on some clothes. Well, we all pulled on some clothes. I carried one suitcase and Fred the other down to their fancy Class A motorhome.

Ashley did the same thing, gathering up her clothes. For her, another small suitcase, what I think they call a train case, was filled with what she called her "necessary beauty aids."

It felt awkward, taking Paula into my arms for what would be the last time for a year. I kissed her, a long, lingering, loving kiss. We said, "I love you," back and forth a dozen times but, oddly, it never really occurred to me to change my mind.

I carried her two large suitcases while Ashley carried the train case.

When we got into the trailer she said, "and THAT is the last time you'll see me outside looking like some demented hag," and disappeared into the bathroom.

I chuckled and went about cleaning up after breakfast. Then I grabbed my guitar and went out, sat on the picnic table, and started tuning up.

It was interesting, watching the people come by. Oh, I exchanged waves and casual hellos, but I didn't look at the women who passed by with what I thought of as "bedroom interest." I looked with the interest you would have for a pretty girl, a sexy matron, a hot wife (a MILF if you will), or a merry widow. But I wasn't thinking in terms of which one I would bed.

I was too, well, "satisfied" is part of it. "Bewitched," or maybe "spellbound" would be closer though. I knew, in my head, that part of it was my utter infatuation with my Goddess, but that didn't make it any less real.

So I played and sang and socialized.

Mostly I waited.

When she came out of the travel trailer, making her entrance down the steps, a beam of light from heaven illuminated her and the sound of harps filled the air.

Okay, maybe that didn't happen, but that's what it felt like.

There she was, my perfect goddess. Her face was perfect, the alabaster skin, the lashes laying against her cheeks, the hair perfectly coiffed, the T-shirt just the perfect level of tightness, the jeans the perfect level of too-tightness. Even the tennis shoes, so white they almost glowed were a perfect finish to the outfit.

And her smile made my fucking knees weak.

I heard the thought as if it came from another person, it was a male voice, saying, "Jesus Fucking Christ, Davey, what the fuck are you, a love-struck junior high boy?"

And I didn't care.

I set the guitar in its stand, met her at the bottom of the stairs, and dropped to my knees before her. I took her hands in mine, kissed her palms, caressed them with my cheek, and in my best James Earl Jones voice said "what is thy bidding, my Goddess."

She giggled at that and said, "well, a trip to the riverfront would be fun."

So I took her to the riverfront of Baton Rouge and we walked like teenagers. I held her hand and we laughed at each other's little jokes. We put a ten-dollar bill in the guitar case of a guy on the street that was throwing licks that made me drool and then she went and stood by him and sang "Summertime" in that Ella Fitzgerald-with-a-hint-of-gravel voice and I put another ten in the case. He was grinning as they finished and when I took her hand again I said, to the guy, "you know I'm going to have to burn my guitar after hearing you."

He laughed and said, "practice, man, practice."

We high-fived and moved along.

In a restaurant we entered more or less at random, we had Jumbalaya and blackened shrimp and I learned what my Goddess meant by intimacy.

We took a booth and I was mildly surprised when she patted the cushion next to her. "By me, baby," she said.

We drank a house white wine, which the waiter had recommended and people watched as we waited.

"Now THAT," she said, giggling softly and leaning close, keeping the conversation personal, "is a trophy wife." She nodded at the overly enhanced blonde, maybe 30, being squired by a man at least twice her age.

"Annddd," I said, "every part storebought."

She giggled and lifted her breasts. "Not like these?" she asked.

I patted her hip. "Or these," I said.

When the Jambalaya was served I took a couple of sips and it hit me that she hadn't.

"What?" I asked.

"Tend to your Goddess, honey," she said, smiling, "feed me."

And I discovered a whole new level of intimacy.

Dinner took a long time with me managing a sip or a bite for every three or four of hers. After each spoonful of the Jambalaya or each shrimp or bit of the brown rice or drink of the wine, I would use the napkin gently on her lips.

And I realized something. I had to look up the word.

My Goddess was a sitophile. She was drawing sexual arousal from eating and being fed was making it even more intense for her. As the dinner went on I became aware of her delicious womanscent, and enjoyed, very much, the looks she drew as people would walk by and catch a whiff.

I couldn't resist the dessert cart and ordered a piece of the chocolate lava cake to round out our first dinner as a true couple.

"Oh, God, baby, I'm stuffed," she said.

But she opened her mouth when I offered a forkful of chocolate deliciousness.

This time I didn't use the napkin and she giggled, running her tongue around her lips to clean them.

"You found my weakness," she said, looking at me, as the saying goes, from under lowered lashes.

"I want to please my Goddess," I said.

She smiled and opened her mouth.

As she chewed, obviously enjoying the dessert, her eyes held mine.

"And the Goddess enjoys pleasing her acolyte," she said, heedless of the little brown crumbs falling from her lips.

I wiped her lips again and fed her another bite of the gooey cake, sneaking one for myself.

We finished the cake, and the wine, and when the waitress made it obvious she needed the table I paid, leaving a healthy tip, making my Goddess smile in the process, and we went back to our promenade and people watching.

I loved the way she clung to my arm even though it made walking a bit hard. Her weight threw me off a bit.

We walked and chatted, mostly oohing and aahing over the architecture or commenting on the people we saw.

Finally, she said, "enough, David. God, I haven't walked this much in years."

Back at the RV park, the first day of our year and a day wrapped up as had become, well, standard. I played, Ashley sang, and others joined in. Another guy, Timothy was his name, joined in with some killer licks of his own, that I shamelessly stole, and a pretty wife, a Jane Russell lookalike if you liked Jane in her 50s when she was so well padded, named Linda, blew the entire park away with "White Rabbit." She offered, and Timothy was obviously smitten with Ashley, but we had agreed to be exclusive for now and so I, reluctantly, very reluctantly actually, said, "you knock me out, but no." She looked surprised, but didn't go home alone.

Inside, after 9:00, Ashley smiled at me.

"Let me make sure you don't regret saying 'no' to the lovely Linda," she said, smiling as she reached for the hem of my T-shirt.

She stripped me then, slowly, kissing the skin she revealed.

"Allow your Goddess to do the work tonight," she said, easing to her knees and working on the button of my cut-offs.

"Goddess," I said, getting to my knees to meet her eye to eye, "you should never be on your knees before me."

She smiled, a sweet smile.

"No, David," she said, "this is precisely where I should be."

I started to speak but she silenced me with a finger to my lips.

"David, you call me Goddess, and I accept that on many levels," she said. "I will feed you," and she lifted her breasts, "and bear your children," and she patted her hips.

She kissed me gently.

"My fat will help if the hunt fails or the crops are poor," she said, lifting her arms and making the big pads of fat under them sway, "and I am strong, to defend my young and my family," she added, patting her thighs.

"All of the things you say are true," she said, "and I accept your title. I AM a Fertility Goddess. I AM Earth Mother," and she smiled and kissed me again, an interesting kiss with both of us on our knees, my shirt gone, her fingernails digging in.

"In some way," she said, leaning back far enough to focus on my eyes, "all women are those things."

She smiled that sweet smile, all ivory teeth and laugh-line-surrounded-eyes.

"But," she said, her finger touching my lips again when I started to speak, "don't you understand? Can't you see it yet?"

I didn't and so I said so. "No, Goddess," I said, "you are, well, a Goddess."

"Yes, and no," she said.

She did the finger-on-the-lips thing when I drew breath to say something.

"Yes," she said, "I am those things but there's a 'no' too."

Another light kiss.

"When Paula was leaving I told you she was cockwhipped," she said with a little giggle, "but I should have said cockdrunk. My grandson tends to have the effect on women."

"But that's a special case," she said, her fingertips caressing my face.

"The thing is, my sweet baby," she went on, "ALL women are cockwhipped. ALL women have those aspects of a Goddess. But honey," and she kissed me hard this time, "ALL women are nothing but barren vessels without a man's precious gift," and her hand brushed my erection trapped in my cutoffs.

"Now, beloved," she said and her smile was absolutely beatific, "stand up and let me coax that beautiful gift from you."

It was interesting. I still saw her as a Goddess, I was still, in her terms, utterly pussywhipped, but I understood too. So I stood and smiled down at her.

"I am yours, Goddess," I said, "take what you need."

Her smile took all of the years off of her face.

Her fingers were rock steady as she undid my belt, undid the button, and unzipped it.

The look on her face, as she spread the zipper open, my erection obvious behind my boxers, was almost adoring.

She looked up at me and smiled.

Her attention was focused completely on what she exposed as she worked the cutoffs and the boxers down.

When she had me naked she, used her hand to pull my erection down, and took me into her mouth. Her eyes were holding mine as she pushed and, just like that, accepted me into her throat.

Paula had managed deep throat a few times, but it was always accompanied by a bunch of gagging and coughing. It was a struggle for her.

But for Ashley, it seemed perfectly natural. I was balls deep in her mouth. Her eyes were holding mine. And when she swallowed suddenly it was like she was pulling me deeper.

She pulled off, very slowly, her eyes not leaving mine, and when I came clear, my erection springing to point straight up my body, a sheet of thick mucus-laden drool ran down her chin making thick ropes down to the shelf of her boobs. As I watched that, captivated, I noticed the two wet circles where her breasts were flowing.

She did that, very slowly, a half-dozen times. I could penetrate with my full length then she would swallow hard a couple of times, pulling me deeper, before doing the slow pull-off, the sloppy drool, the shuddering breath, and then look into my eyes.

"Do I please you?" she asked, her voice thick, drool running down her chin.

"Yes, Goddess," I said, gently brushing a few stray hairs back from her face, liking the way it was changing as her makeup was smeared away, "your mouth is a source of delight."

I know, it sounds corny, but I realized that on some level this was role-playing as much as making love and I wanted to play my role well for her.

"Am I worthy of your Mangift," she asked, a new term for me, and the capitalization clear in her voice.

"That, Goddess," I said, trying to look stern and loving at the same time, "must be earned."

She smiled up at me, opened her mouth wide showing me saliva and mucus pooled on her tongue and deep in her mouth, and took my balls into her mouth.

I couldn't stop the, "oh JESUS," that escaped. She was sucking, gently, but sucking nevertheless, and her lips closed putting pressure on my vas deferens, that connection that takes mature sperm to the urethra before ejaculation. She was giving me an odd combination of pleasure, and just a hint of pain, sort of an ache where she was squeezing. She moved a little, her eyes smiling, pulling, stretching a little, drawing another, "oh JESUS," from me.