Still Under His Eyes

Disclaimer: This sardonic new BTB-fantasy version of (RIGHT) UNDER HIS EYES (with better punctuation) is a work of fiction. All sexual players are at least 18 years old no matter their height. Nobody dies. Do not take this seriously. It is not a hot stroker. There is little detailed sex here, nor much reality. You *will* find sick humiliation and a little (heh heh) revenge. The slut narrator is certainly not sympathetic. I sure hope you do not find this tale erotic.

*****

How long can he take the cheating?

Yes, I am a cheating fucking slut, and a liar, and a lousy mother. But at least I am no whore, and no thief.

I am not a whore because I fuck and suck and slurp for fun and not for money. You do not need to pay me for fun; I get paid for talking dirty. And I am not a thief. I do not take stuff without paying, no matter the value. I just pay the price.

Yes, I have been cheating on my poor (well, not so poor, really) dumb-ass husband since about before forever, and I am not about to stop. And he does not stop me. I know he does not like it, but he

cannot

stop me. Never could, never will. That is my mantra.

And I still do it right under his eyes.

It started in high school in beautiful San Diego in the late 1960s. I am Sue Ann. My "big little sister" is Brenda. I am a year older older and she is slightly taller. We are both medium-height medium-build mushy blondes, each just one inch either side of five-and-a-half feet. We are very close - we always have been. Very, very close.

Our steady high school boyfriends were Brad and Randy. They are both thin dark-haired guys with hazel eyes, each of them six-feet-four. Brad the Senior went out with Brenda the Junior, and Randy the Junior went out with me the Senior. None of us couples shared classes but we all ate lunch together.

And we all went out together and shared. Brenda and I had always slept together anyway, and had started exploring our bodies, and touching and tasting and loving each other, back when we started showing boobs and pubes. Brad and Randy just added to the mix. They could almost be twins, even their long cocks and their cum flavors.

Yeah, we went out double-dating in public all the time. But we really liked when somebody's parents were away from home for the evening. Then we would all climb into an available bed there and fuck each other blind.

I sucked Brad while my sister slurped Randy. Brenda and I 69'd while Brad and Randy jacked-off each other in a manly way. I fucked Randy while Brad fucked Brenda; and we swapped. Brenda and I double-blew Randy and then Brad. Brad and Randy double-fucked me and then spit-roasted Brenda. I blew Randy who ate Brenda who blew Brad who ate me. It all got kind of sloppy and juicy and yummy there. We had good fun.

We were a happy foursome except for the usual minor teenage angst. Puberty sucks, you know? Always has, always will. That is my other mantra.

Brad and I graduated in 1970 and went to the local community college which was really a continuation of high school for non-dropouts.

Everything changed the next year after Brenda and Randy graduated high school. The were a lot more academic than Brad and I. Brenda went to a little college in Portland, Oregon, and Randy moved to Boston for university. Brad and I circulated and dated just about anybody who would have us. We were rarely lonely.

I followed William Burrough's advice. "If you want to get laid, go to college. If you want an education, go to a library." I went to college, tee hee.

Brad and I finished junior college a year later. We had AA degrees now. Big fucking deal. Brad lost his student deferment by graduating; he fled to swinging England to avoid the VietNam draft.

And I... I missed Randy. I missed him so much that I moved to Boston too and convinced him to marry me. (But I am getting ahead of myself here.)

Not that I had been exclusive with Randy. Back home, I had still been fucking Brad, and Larry, and Carl, and Linda, and Ted, and Tammi, and Juan, and I think Steve and Felipe and Debbie, too, but I do not really remember them all real well. I was never going to be exclusive to anybody. How can a Liberated Woman wear chains?

--

I still lived at home with my family when I went to community college. I was just another flaky liberal-arts major getting a well-rounded fine education or whatever. Nothing about job skills, or course not. I did not need a lot of money. I am pretty lazy anyway so I did not need to look for a serious job. I did not want to work too much, just enough for pot and gas and clothes.

I got lucky. I found the perfect job for me: phone sex. I worked a nationwide Dial-A-Slut sex-talk hotline.

It started when big Ted took me to a big adult bookstore in a mini-mall not too far from campus. Ted was scanning the racks for the latest WATUSI DYKES monthly. I was just browsing quietly, soaking up the ambiance, thinking about maybe getting some HUMONGOUS COCKS pictorials. Remember, this was back before home video.

"Yo, babe, you over 18? Let's see some ID," the chunky balding sleazy leisure-suited proprietor demanded.

"Sure, I'm an adult. What's it to you, fella?" I smirked, flashing my driver's license as I stuck out my rather nice tits. I flexed the tight calf and thigh muscles emerging from my short-shorts. "I was born in 1951 and I'm fucking 20 years old now! I'm a woman - W-O-M-A-N - and don't you forget it, buddy!"

"Hey there, sweetie, you got a pretty good voice. Say something nasty to me, hmmm?" he leered.

"How about this?" I emoted sultry. "You're a diseased wee loathsome tree toad with a puny pathetic one-inch pecker that itches and drips. You

could

get lucky tonight - with a jar full of chopped raw liver, or maybe a blow-up doll. Have you ever had sex with the same live person more than once? I'll bet you raise scared sheep in your back yard."

"Oh beautiful, babe! Your voice is perfect! How would you like a job, afternoons and evenings?"

"A job? Doing what? And where? And how much?" I was almost getting interested.

"Right in the back room; I got a phone bank back there. All you gotta do is talk dirty to the lonely jerks who call in. You get a comfortable seat and phone headset, some scripts to work off of and improvise on, all the drinks and snacks you want. Pay is straight commission. The suckers pay three bucks a minute for every minute they're on the line. You'll get a quarter of that. You could make up to forty-five bucks an hour. That's almost as good as a cheap shyster or shrink, yeah?"

Now I was definitely getting interested. I could make a load of money just by talking dirty? Fuck yeah! The 1970s would sure be a good time for me.

I started that evening. I soon slipped into an easy routine: Classes all day. Minimal homework before supper. Phone sex all evening, four or five hours, depending on the call volume. A quick comfortable fuckfest with some of my friends. More of the same the next day. And party all weekends. I could afford partying now.

My workspace was much nicer than I expected. It was like a clean and airy lounge room. Good lights. Air conditioning. A few stuffed chairs and couches, each position with a table, phone and headset, and script folders.

I worked with a constantly shifting crew of women with sexy voices. Sometimes we got friendly and sometimes we had friends in. I could talk REAL dirty when June or Theodora was kneeling between my spread legs licking me to hot moaning orgasmic ecstasy. Or when I slurped Norm's or Juan's big bad tasty cocks or Lisa's bodacious boobs. Slurping sounds especially hot on a telephone.

--

Our San Diego phone bank had a nationwide call-in line that I could tap for free. I stayed in touch with Randy at school in Boston. I talked to him for a few minutes at a time, a couple days each week. I told him a little bit of what I was up to, and he talked about his studies. He studied hard. He had to, to keep his scholarship.

So I finished junior college and received my worthless AA degree. I decided to escape from the old home scene. I packed my gear in my new red Volvo (I had finally dumped the old primer-gray VW Beetle) and headed roughly northeastward. San Diego to Boston, yeah, that is a nice transition, in summer anyway.

I was in no hurry. I took a slow month to make a wandering transcontinental drive. Up to Portland to see and taste my big little sister. Over to Boise where I drank too much Spud Beer. Down to Salt Lake City to audition as a Mormon sister-wife. (Not as much fun as I expected.) Across the scenic canyonlands to Albuquerque and up to Taos for clusterfucks in the communes. On to Denver and then east across endless plains, flat as shit on a griddle all the way to Chicago. Through the nasty Rust Belt cities along lakes Erie and Ontario and through a few not-so-rusty guys. Then across hills, valleys, fields and suburbs, and into Boston.

I found Randy in his scuzzy dorm. I moved right in with him. I took him out to dinner. He took me up my ass. I knew that we would enjoy living together.

I had money saved but it would not last forever. Ernesto, who ran the adult books and phone sex shop back in San Diego, knew everybody in the business, and he had contacts in Boston. Silvio hired me right away; I only had to blow him twice. I was back on the Dial-A-Slut circuit! And yeah, the money was good, damn good.

I sprung my plan on Randy not long after I moved into his dorm room. I had just given him a good fuck; I rode him to a long hot orgasm while I had three or four screamers. I collapsed on top of him. His long, curved cock was still semi-inflated and inserted deep inside me. I whispered sweetly in his ear.

"Hey Randy, how would you like to get out of this lousy dorm? I can get us an apartment just off campus. You'll get a quieter study space, a bigger bed, and me. C'mon, I can afford this!"

"Sure thing, babe, why not? Yeah, I'd be glad to have a better space and less noise. You'll pick someplace good, yeah?"

"You bet! It'll be perfect for us. Oooh, you're getting hard again! Ready for another round, lover?"

No, convincing Randy to leave the dorm was not too difficult.

--

I was no great chef so we ate a lot of Chinese, Italian, and Indian take-out. I could easily handle the cost. It was much easier than learning to cook. But I bought us a new-technology microwave oven anyway, and not just for popcorn. Well, maybe mostly for popcorn. And for drying out cheap pot, and melting the pot with chocolate or cheese for high-times snacks, stuff like that.

Randy had tough classes just about all day, every day, it seemed. I worked in Silvio's phone bank most afternoons, complete with the usual oral fluffings to set my mood and tone. I had my mornings and evenings free.

Randy was usually busy studying most evenings and he just did not have time for clubs and dancing most nights. So I had friends over most mornings and I went out on dates after dinner.

Randy was in an advanced biochemistry program. He was brilliant, and maniacally hard-working, and totally fucking dedicated to his studies.

He let no distractions interfere with his concentration. He did not notice me and my fuck-buddies using our rooms during the day, or that I was out till late many nights, or that I did not always come home alone, and sometimes not at all. He only fixated on learning all he could about his science.

Things went well that whole school year. Randy took intensive summer-session classes too. We only took a short vacation, if you could call it that - a week in Philadelphia! Randy spent the days at a goddamn biochem research lab. We fucked a bunch in the evenings and then he slept for ten hours before going back to the lab the next day. I guess this was a "busman's holiday" or some shit like that.

I did not hang at the lab in Philly. I wandered around town and found guys and girls to occupy me during the long sweaty summer days. It was okay.

There is an old joke about a contest where first prize is an all-inclusive one-week vacation in Philadelphia, and second prize is a two-week stay there. That is about right. But some of the animals DO know how to party.

We returned home to Boston for a few days. Then I managed to drag Randy back to San Diego for another week off. He was resistant until I bribed him. What was the bribe? A wedding. Ours!

The wedding was small and fast and informal. We got our immediate families and a few friends and other bums together in a Unitarian Fellowship hall - do not say church to Unitarians! We had our reception at a Red Lyon hotel banquet room, and honeymooned the next day at the San Diego Zoo. I had wanted the wedding to be at the monkey house there. They turned us down. Nobody has a sense of humor anymore.

Our real honeymoon was a couple of days in a seaside lodge in beautiful La Jolla. My sister Brenda and Randy's almost-brother Brad stayed with us there. We all had fun power-fucking each other again. I sure loved sucking both guys' cocks together while Brenda ate my pussy. Yummy!

--

So now I was Mrs Randy Ronk. Life in Boston continued just about the same. Randy studied hard and fucked me when he remembered to. I made money and partied hard with my friends. Randy hardly noticed this.

Randy came home unexpectedly one morning after a lab session was cancelled. I was in the party room with Dave and Darla and Jan. We were in a nice quiet four-way daisychain when I heard the front door open and Randy come stomping down the hall in his size 17 trail boots.

Our play-room door luckily was closed. Randy walked straight to the study room and immersed himself in data or whatever. We kept our orgasms fairly quiet till he left a couple of hours later.

Another time, I had come home late, real late, with Hideo and Millie. We had been partying, drinking, dry-fucking on the dance floors of a couple or five hot clubs. We snuck down the apartment hallway, whispering like giddy kids.

We passed the open bedroom door. I saw Randy asleep in our bed, naked, on his back, atop the covers, with his long hard cock sticking up like a rounded obelisk. I just could not resist! I gave him a great fast unconscious blowjob. He came like a stallion but never woke up. What a guy!

I joined my friends in the party room. Millie was already riding Hideo like she was Dale Fucking Evans and he was Trigger, his long thin Japanese cock sunk deep into her sexy saddle. I sat on Hideo's flat face and slurped Millie's fine bouncy tits. Ooh, this was fun!

After a few more orgasms I threw them out and crawled into our marriage bed with my big husband Randy.

In the morning he told me about his great wet dream. I told him it sounded exciting. He got hard again, and did me like a dog, sliding easily into my wet pussy, taking sloppy seconds or sixteenths or whatever, and howling. What an easy guy!

All went well for another few school years. Randy got his BS quickly, then got into a Master's program and notched his MS in no time at all, and moved fast towards his first doctorate. I kept having hot fun and making good money. Because of my job, Randy did not have to play any impoverished-grad-student games. Life was peachy.

Of course I was on The Pill since forever. The Pill was reportedly 99.9% effective. Which means on any given day one sperm-squirt out of 1000 would slip past. And for 90% of each month that did not matter because I was not fertile then. So only one squirt out of 10,000 could ever be a risk. Easy odds.

But the odds catch up eventually. Let's see, if I fuck an average of ten times daily for ten years (including leap years) that is 10x10x365.25 = 36,525 fucks. Wow.

Anyway, I got pregnant. I was totally knocked up, higher than a kite. I thought about an abortion. But then I thought, "Hey, why don't I try the motherhood thing? It could be a different thrill."

Yeah, right. Pregnancy sucks. Labor sucks. Pain sucks. And I soon found that mothering sucks, especially twins. But that was okay; I could afford a nanny-housekeeper. Let HER do all the dirty work! And Maria was a good licker too.

I moved us all out of the apartment into a nearby townhouse with a little back yard. I hired Hector from Haiti to be gardener and handyman. He was a pretty good fuck too. Very good, in fact.

So I could continue as Dial-A-Slut, and party all I wanted, and not have to pay attention to the twins or the house. I had already paid to have the whole place soundproofed. Nobody bothered anyone else. Randy did not really have time to be an actual father but he could play 'daddy' when necessary. He liked that.

--

Why did Randy work so hard? Because he had a dream, a fucking obsession. He traced and integrated all sorts of meta-organic biochemical molecular structures trying to fit them together in different modes. Some clicked; most did not.

Randy almost hit pay-dirt. He developed a unique compound with vast potential. But he could never get RX7

quite

right. Unknown contaminants acted as weird catalysts. He said the inevitable side-effects ranged from unpleasant to downright disruptive. This rather limited its commercial acceptance.

Randy's continuing research aimed at making RX7 a bit less sensitive. It could not just be diluted; its structure needed changing. This research was long and hard and not cheap and eventually fruitless.

Some scientists get grouchy when their work does not produce results. Some see failures as good learning experiences. Randy had a bit of both. Failure to perfect RX7 so it would be safe to use just drove him to more intensive research, more effort, even longer hours. But he also got grumpy, with stomach pains.

"Goddammit Sue Ann, this is starting to piss me off! I just can't get the fucking inter-atomic linkages right."

"I know you'll finally nail it, baby. Just like you nailed me. Hey, let's do anal some more!" I squeezed his big balls. He grinned a little.

"Yeah, okay, I'm up for that. Ouch! My ulcer is giving me a monster gut-ache again. Pass me the Maalox, hey?" I poured some rum into the medicine bottle and passed it over. He liked that special boosted mix. He took a slug, then bent me over and nailed my ass again. I screamed my usual pleasure.

--

Randy's grumpiness had a side effect. He could not concentrate as hard on chemical theory and semi-abstract thoughts. He actually started noticing more of what was happening around him. He looked closer at the house, and the twins, and Maria and Hector and me.

He was not yet putting the pieces together but his long sallow face sometimes wore a curious expression.

The twins were five years old now. They did not look a lot like him or me; they looked slightly Oriental. I guess Hideo was the biological father. The twins were fluent in Boston English, and Honduran Spanish and Haitian French, thanks to Maria and Hector. And a little Japanese from Hideo. The kids were friendly with all the visiting 'Uncles' and 'Aunts'; they were accustomed to seeing naked adults.

Domestic life cracked open one night.

I had my friends in the party room. Randy worked late in the lab as usual but he quit early for a change and came home unexpectedly. I had not closed the party room door. Randy stood in the doorway in his lab clothes and saw Lasisha eating me while Juan fucked her and I sucked-off happy Hideo.

"Hey, what's this? What's going on here, Sue Ann?" Randy did not sound happy.

"Oh baby, we're only partying. Just like the old days, y'know? C'mon and join us! We'll have fun!" I said after Hideo pulled his engorged dick out of my wide mouth.

"You're my wife, Sue Ann! Get these people out of here! Now! We need to talk!"

My friends disentangled and dressed and left. I threw on a clean, loose robe and followed Randy into our bedroom. We both sat on the edge of the bed. Randy peered into my eyes.

"Is that what you do while I'm working in the lab all day and night? Screw around? Jesus fucking Christ, Sue Ann! What's happened to our marriage?"