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*****
Conrad Fontaine stepped up to the barbecue grill and held out two paper plates, already brimming with potato salad, coleslaw and sweet corn. "Awesome Labor Day party, boss," he offered. "I gotta hand it to ya."
"Ludi does all the work," offered Dave Maerski, part-owner of Maerski Chemical Recovery Systems. Flames flared up from the grill as he worked his spatula. "What'll ya have?" he asked. "Burgers or dogs?"
"One of each," answered Conrad. "Allie doesn't trust what goes into hotdogs."
Dave chuckled and slipped a spatula under a sizzling burger, then slid it onto Conrad's plate. "Smart girl," he wise-cracked, grabbing a hot dog with a pair of tongs. "I saw her talking to Ludi a while back. Heaven help us if those two get together, eh?"
"How's Ludi doing?" asked Conrad. "You know...with her eyesight."
"About the same. Her retinas have stabilized, but the disfiguring is permanent. She'll always need those mega-huge spectacles."
Conrad thought for a moment, picturing Ludi's blue eyes behind the thick lenses set in huge square, black-rimmed frames. "Don't take this the wrong way, big guy," he suggested. "But there's a certain je ne se qua in the way those glasses magnify her eyes. She pulls off the look."
"I'll tell her you said that," joked Dave as he went back to work on the grill.
Conrad squeezed a stripe of mustard over his hot dog and made his way across the lawn to join his wife, Allison, who also worked at Maerski. They had met at Dave and Ludi's summer cookout seven years previous, when Allison had just been hired in the accounting office. Married for almost five years, they never missed the Labor Day cookout thrown for employees.
Holding two bending paper plates, Conrad searched the lawn, but Allison wasn't where he left her. Finally, he saw her sitting on a bench in an out-of-the-way spot near the garden. He hustled over, plopped down and handed her plate over asking, "Whatsamatter, Allie? Don't want anyone seeing ya' eat?"
Allie's hazel eyes twitched as she looked at him. She dropped her gaze and put her plate on the bench beside her, raking her long blonde hair behind her shoulders. "I wanted to talk privately," she answered.
"Is everything okay?"
"Like I said," she crackled, staring into her lap. "I need to talk with you."
"Sounds serious, babe. Tell me."
"I-I was just wondering...that deal we made a few years back...about just once being able to...you knowโ"
"Allie, no! Tell me you didn't sleep with anyone!"
"No! I didn't. I-I was actually wondering if you had."
Conrad shook his head and huffed, "Allison, we had just gotten married when we made that deal. We were afraid because single life was over, so we reacted. Now that we know each other it's pretty clear that stupid deal would have trashed our marriage. What makes you think I'd be acting on it now?"
"I-I don't know. I just see the way you look at Ludi sometimes. Are you attracted to her?"
"Oh hell, Allie, she's a cute gal. Heaven knows nobody else could get away with wearing those high-powered glasses. But all that aside, I won't cheat on you."
"Good thing," she offered meekly, "being the boss' wife and all."
Conrad patted her thigh and smiled. "Hey," he urged. "Finish your food and let's go home and have a party of our own."
****
Forty-five minutes later, Conrad leaned back on his elbows, watching Allie's lips glide up and down over the skin of his chiseled cock. "Uh," he grunted, trying to sneak a spurt onto her tongue.
"Stop it, Conrad," she warned without looking up. "You know I don't like the taste."
"Come on, babe," he bargained. "Just try it."
"You knew when I married you," she argued. "Five years you've done without. Deal with it." She rolled to the side and spread her long, sleek legs. "Besides," she purred, wiggling her thighs, "this is where it belongs."
Conrad wrapped his elbows beneath her knees, tipping her pelvis forward. He rubbed his knob over the golden scruff of her crown, then back and forth over the slickening compromise in her blushing apex. Allie giggled in encouragement. "Get this thing in me and top me off," she purred in playful demand, seizing his girth.
Conrad obliged. As the dry skin of his bulb bathed in the oozing nectar of her clench, he peered into her eyes and asked, "How do you know you don't like the taste?"
"What the hell kind of question is that?" she asked.
He shimmed and rocked his hips, thrusting the rim of his crown into the velvety hug of her atrium. "Cum," he replied. "You must have tasted it once to know you don't like it. Whose was it?"
"Don't be an idiot," she griped. "I've tasted it on you after you come in me. Now cut it out."
He reared back and charged forth and drove his shaft to the hilt. With his sac resting on her buttocks, he persisted. "But it would have your own taste on it," he argued. "Maybe that's what you don't like."
"Dammit!" she bellowed, pushing on his chest. "Get outta me! I'm sick of you asking that! I've told you a hundred times!"
"I'm sorry," he pleaded. "You're right. I won't bug you about it. I promise."
"You get one more chance," she warned. "Then I use my vibrator and you can do...whatever the hell you do." Climbing on all fours, she twerked her waistline and bucked her pelvis.
Conrad grasped the crests of her alabaster hips as she reached beneath and guided his shining lance into her living sheath. Rocking forward, he reamed her inner channel and broke into rhythm, slapping his sac against her sopping slit as his cadence increased. Allie let out her tell-tale wail as her inners shrink-wrapped his girth with an oozing squeeze. A spray of thankful fruit washed over his scrotum. Again her pelvis contracted, basting his balls with a second wash of reward.