Cuckquean Ch 04

Lori woke first. As I watched she stretched, farted, opened her eyes, and looked around with that same sort of blank, where-am-I look we've all had when we woke in a motel room or other unfamiliar place. Then her eyes settled on me and she flashed that avaricious grin.

She crooked her finger, beckoning me, and I went to her. I guess sometime in the night the last of my inhibitions had died. I felt no hesitation at all.

She laid back, spread her legs, and said, "I seem to be leaking, lick it up."

There was that rush as my adrenal glands squeezed. Fight? Flight? But neither for me. For me it was submission and after an instant of fighting society's taboos, long-held for a woman of my age, I bent, parted her nether lips, feeling the coarse curly hair under my fingerprints, and licked where she was, indeed, leaking.

The taste was an odd combination of David's semen, something I had tasted before although not often, and her grool, an odd combination of salty and slick and somehow slimy.

I inhaled deeply, the combination of her womanscent and his semen driving a spike of desire into my belly leaving me weak.

"Good morning," I heard David say in his sleepy, thick, waking-up voice.

I felt the bed move and heard soft humming sounds. I opened my eyes and across the forest of her pubic hair, I could see him leaning over to kiss her. I felt a rush, deep in my belly and my nose started running, salty snot adding to the mixture of tastes and scents in my mouth.

"Hold that thought," he said and I felt the bed move again as he rolled out and went into the bathroom.

Then Lori's fingers were entwined in my hair, pulling me harder against her. She forced my head down so that my forehead and hair were against where she was leaking and then slowly pulled my hair so that I turned my face up.

She was smiling down at me.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you Martha?" she asked.

No thought at all was involved when I said, "yes."

David came back, then, and patted my head.

I turned and he was naked.

"On your knees," he said, smiling.

I got to my knees, groaning a little, I hadn't had the medications that keep my arthritis at bay yet, and hadn't had a chance to rub the Voltaren on my knees.

"Open your mouth, honey," he said, his voice almost gentle.

I opened my mouth and he closed the distance between us. He was soft when he entered my mouth. I closed my lips and began massaging his cock with my tongue in that way I knew he liked.

"That's right," Lori said, behind me, "get him nice and hard for me."

It's funny how the mind works. I had actually forgotten she was there for a moment as I was on my knees before my husband, a man I was still crazy, stupid, head-over-heels in love with.

But when reality reared its ugly head, it bit me right between my legs and I felt another of those rushes of pure sensuality. It wasn't exactly sexual although there was sexuality involved. But it was like my whole body suddenly started tingling.

He pulled out and climbed onto the bed, between Lori's legs.

"Wait," she said in a harsh little whisper.

He stopped moving.

She looked at me, that predatory grin on her face again.

She crooked her finger in that beckoning way again and said, "Guide your husband to where he wants to be."

My breath caught as the magnitude of what she was demanding hit me. Not only would I be accepting my husband making love to another woman, but I would also be actively participating.

And I wanted to.

I moved to the side of the bed and took his erection in my hand, holding him, guiding him to the leaking slit of another woman's pussy.

He didn't react, making me actively pull. When he was touching her entrance I moved him up and down. Dragging the tip of his beautiful cock through that mat of hair before I pulled again and guided him as he disappeared into her.

Unasked, I began rubbing his back and his ass.

"Kiss it," he said.

And I knew, way down below the level of thought, what he wanted.

So I moved to the foot of the bed, gathered the dress and petticoats out of the way, crawled up, between their legs, and kissed his balls where he was touching her. Then I moved so I could kiss her, where he entered her, and lick the base of his shaft at the same time.

I liked it.

After that, it seemed natural to move back and up, slowly, spread his cheeks, and trace the puckered orifice of his anus with my tongue.

I felt part of something very special as I crawled back and off the bed and then moved around so I could brush stray hairs away from her face.

"You're beautiful," I said and they both said, "thank you," in unison making all three of us laugh.

I went back to my corner then and watched as they made their morning love.

She came with a loud grunt and a VERY visible, very liquid release. He followed in a few seconds with a hissed "yessssssssssssssssssssss."

"Martha," David said, "I am starved, make some breakfast please."

But Lori said, "first things first. Martha, I need a cleanup."

I didn't hesitate. I moved to the bed and buried my face between her legs, licking and sucking greedily, enjoying their mixed tastes. She did the fingers in the hair thing again and rubbed my face in her before releasing me.

"Now, breakfast," she said before snuggling into the crook of my husband's arm and nuzzling his nipple.

So I went into the kitchen and started the coffee pot going. Then into the bathroom. I had to pee terribly and masturbate almost as much. I sat, peed, wiped, and started masturbating.

But I couldn't seem to finish.

Oh, there was pressure deep in my belly. God knows there was a LOT of pressure. But I couldn't quite finish. I was pushing, straining, almost desperate for an orgasm but I pooped instead, getting my fingers dirty and making a mess. Finally, panting, sweating, but still deeply unsatisfied, I wiped again.

When I washed my hands I looked at the woman in the mirror.

"Jesus," I sort of whisper/moaned.

I looked demented. My makeup was ruined, mascara making streaks down my cheeks. My face was shiny with semen and her grool except where it was crusted already. My hair looked like I hadn't run a brush through it for weeks and it was crusty where she had rubbed me through her pussy. On some instinctive level, I knew I shouldn't wash my fact yet.

With a sigh, I turned and went back to the kitchen.

I poured two cups of coffee, black for David, and put little pitchers of half-and-half and sugar on the bedtray we had received as a wedding present and used maybe three times, and carried it into the bedroom. They were still, well, "necking" is the word from my youth, so I made like a room service boy and cleared my throat. They rolled onto their backs and I sat the tray between them.

I didn't say anything, just went back to the kitchen where I made a full restaurant breakfast. I made a six-egg omelet with onions, ham bits, and three kinds of cheese. I fried up some bacon and dropped two English muffins into the toaster. Two glasses of orange juice finished the presentation.

I went back into the bedroom where they were necking again, collected the tray, then back to the kitchen where I loaded it up, including fresh coffee.

Back in the bedroom, I cleared my throat again, drawing giggles from all of us, and then carefully set the tray between them. I crawled up onto the bed, carefully arranged my dress, hoping I looked like Donna Reed or June Cleaver on a picnic as I spread it around, and said, "lay back, let Martha take care of you."

They laid back, heads close on the pillow, and for the next half hour, I fed them their breakfast. I would put a forkful of omelet into David's mouth and then wipe his lips. Then I would do the same for Lori. It was an intimacy that, in some ways, was beyond sex although it wasn't doing anything for that itch deep in my belly.

The day went like that. I tended to their every need. If one of them went to the bathroom I was there to wipe them when they were done. When they showered together I dried them afterward.

Lori smoked and I found an ashtray. They had finished having sex for the second time that day and she reached for her pack of cigarettes but it was empty.

"Martha," she said, and there was that grin again, "run get me a pack of Salems."

There was that rush again, deep in my belly.

Knowing what the answer would be, afraid to ask, I asked, "may I clean up first?"

David raised his head, looked me up and down, grinned a grin almost as predatory as Lori's, and said, "you look fine."

I moaned but knew better than to argue.

I suppose I had known, from the start, that humiliation would be part of my new life. Hell, what had happened over the past 24 hours was pretty humiliating. But this level, so public, made my bowels run hot and watery.

I barely made it to the bathroom and got all of that silly material up and out of the way before I sat and lived through explosive diarrhea. I washed my hands quickly, took another quick look at the hag in the mirror, and went to run my errand.

I drove an extra five miles or so, to a convenience store far from the one I usually used.

I got out of my little Honda CR-V, straightened my back, and went in. At the counter, I had to wait behind a guy who was paying for his gas and some road food. When he turned, as you do sometimes when you're in line, just to give an acknowledgment, a greeting, maybe a simple "good morning," his eyes got big when he saw me.

And I liked his reaction.

He didn't say anything and the clerk, a heavily tattooed youngster of about 21, just grinned and said, "rough night?" as I stepped up to the counter.

I met his eyes, smiled, and said, "you could say that. A pack of Salems, please."

As I started for the door I put some extra swing in my hips, making the skirt of the dress sway.

"Lookin' good, mama," he said and I giggled.

I realized I was happy.

Now, if I could only do something about that ache deep in my belly.