Jack Grierson was seated at the gate, his hand possessively on the distended belly of his heavily pregnant daughter-in-law, Isabelle. She was barely a week from her due date. Unbeknownst to his son and wife, the child she was carrying was his, the product of their hectic affair. They both found this liaison to be intensely exciting as well as sexually fulfilling.
"She's kicking your hand," murmured Isabelle. "She knows her father's hand."
Jack responded, "Uh-huh", but his restless eyes roamed over the throng, always looking, always evaluating every female within eyeshot. He had the instincts of a sexual hunter, looking for a woman who would respond to his signals and with whom he could share a mutually satisfying climax. For Jack prided himself on his ability to give his sexual partners mind-numbing orgasms. But no one caught his fancy and he was beginning to grow disappointed. Isabelle followed his gaze and knew exactly what he was thinking. She was not jealous -- in fact she gloried in Jack's many sexual conquests and even helped him on occasion.
"Don't worry, darling," she breathed in his ear. "I'll suck you off in the aircraft restroom once we are airborne."
He nodded absently, but kept looking. Then he saw a woman with curly blonde hair approach the counter at the gate. Even from the rear, she looked very familiar and he felt a twinge between his legs. The blonde curls were lustrous, and voluptuous if slightly over-ripe figure was probably on the wrong side of thirty-five. Her black-and-white checked skirt was short and a bit too tight, clearly outlining her panty-line. Just then she leaned forward to pull something out of her case to show the gate agent, revealing the snap-on garters at the tops of her black stockings.
Completing her gate check, she turned around to come and get a seat. Jack glanced over at Isabelle with a triumphant smile and she responded by squeezing his hand. It was Trixie Ann Peters.
"Go get her, tiger," said Isabelle in a low voice.
She had not seen them yet, and Jack's experienced eye took everything in within an instant. Her white chiffon blouse was open perhaps a button too many, revealing the lacy bow at the bridge of her black bra. It was also translucent, clearly displaying the outlines of the bra with its white lace trim. Her blue eyes were clear and bright, and her tight cleavage suggested that her full breasts were firm.
"She's mine," said Jack to Isabelle.
"Be careful, Jack," Isabelle returned. She passed her hand over her ripe belly and squeezed his hand. "Remember, Carmen is picking us up at the airport. And it's only an hour flight."
"Yes, but we still have forty minutes till boarding," Jack said self-assuredly. "I'll find a way. All I know if that I'm going to fuck her."
Isabelle rolled her eyes.
______
Trixie Ann seated herself a bit of distance away. It was a few minutes before her attention was drawn to Jack's aggressive gray eyes staring at her from down the facing row of seats. He made no attempt to disguise his interest and boldly stared at her cleavage and breasts. She had not seen him for over eight months, but he was as athletic, well built and attractive as she remembered. And she had spent a long day pitching her company's line of software products to unresponsive, unattractive male buyers. Let me give him something to stare at, she thought on a whim. She deliberately leaned forward, pretending to draw something out of her handbag and gave him an eyeful of her bra. She looked up and their eyes met. His look was challenging and she looked away quickly.
But she could not resist and a few moments later, she sneaked a look back at him. He was still staring at her. Then he stood and walked over to her. She held her breath. He leaned down and whispered in her ear.
"I heard you had our baby. When was he born?"
"A month ago," she said, keeping her voice down. His aggressive certitude made her nervous. It kept her from saying what she really wanted to say -- that she was infuriated at his ignoring her throughout her pregnancy.
"You look great, Trixie Ann. You want to fuck?"
She blushed furiously, and stood up, taking her big handbag with her. She brushed past him and walked towards the bookstore, just to get away from him. He followed her, keeping just far enough behind so that no one else recognized his intent. But when she entered the bookstore, he trailed her in. She ducked behind the rack of bestsellers, hoping that he had not seen her. It was a bad move -- she was screened from the rest of the store and as soon as she realized she was alone, she found herself face to face with him. He smiled.
"Frightened?" he asked in a low tone.
She did not reply, but turned to go and was shocked when his arms went around her waist holding her tight to him. He rotated his hips, grinding his huge erection against her round butt. She felt his heat through their clothing.
"Let me go, or I'll scream," she whispered desperately.
"No you won't," he said confidently. "I love your butt and I know you want my cock. Does your husband make you cum?"
"I love him," she said, her whisper now frantic.
"I bet your husband hasn't given you an orgasm in months," he said, a taunting tone coming into his voice. "Maybe not in years!"
"I don't care!" she hissed. "I'm happily married! I love my children!"
Jack ignored her.
"I can make you cum three times in twenty minutes," he said, nibbling on her ear. "You know that, don't you?"
His hands went up and without further ado he cupped her full breasts, kneading them roughly through her blouse and bra. She struggled, but he was immensely strong and his grip was firm. In a panic, she realized that her body was letting her down -- her nipples quickly hardened. He did not leave her in doubt.
"Your tits are hard, Trixie Ann," he whispered hotly into her ear. "I bet your panties are getting wet. I could give you an orgasm right here."
"No, no, ..., oh, no," her voice was low, but distressed. She was beginning to despair. Then to her horror, one of his hands slipped off her breast and went up her short skirt. He kneaded her crotch, massaging her thong panties into her cunt, and she realized she was sopping wet. His voice was mocking and triumphant.
"You haven't been this wet since the last time I fucked you," he murmured. "Let's see how long you can last!"
With that his fingers began to roughly manipulate her clitoris. She began to grow distracted and less aware of her surroundings as she felt heat descend into her loins. She still continued to whisper, "No, no, no, my God, no, no ...," but it no longer had any meaning.
Jack was right -- her husband, Alan, was a good man but he could no more give her an orgasm than he could fly to the moon. Her last orgasm had been with Jack, but it was so many months ago that she had forgotten how it felt. So when her climax suddenly engulfed her, initially she did not even recognize what it was. Her thighs tightened around his hand and her body jerked spasmodically in his grip. She put her hand over her mouth to gag herself as she mewed low, in the back of her throat.
Her knees grew weak as the waves of her orgasm subsided, and she sagged against him. He continued to knead her breasts with one hand and pushed the fingers of his other hand into her mouth, making her taste her own musky vaginal secretions.
