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Patty raced to the bathroom, leaving Mike breathless on the couch. As she adjusted the knobs, mixing the hot and cold waters to a stream that was just warmer than tepid, she peered at herself in the mirror. "What have I done?" she thought to herself yet again. Her heart became seized by the nagging ache of doubt and fear, and she loathed herself for opening up what could be a floodgate resentment and shame. She felt small in the little room, whose silence was only pierced by the rush of running water. Small, but only for a brief instant. Mike thanked her for bringing him to orgasm. There was hope, and she washed the pearlyslick amalgam of lathered cold cream and sperm off of her hands.
Looking in the mirror, Patty noticed a glossyslick wet spot on the side of her neck. She was surprised that she hadn't felt it land on her despite her focus on Mike's pleasure. She was delighted. She swiped the pad of her index finger through the viscous liquid, and brought it swiftly to her mouth, savoring her son's flavor as she sucklicked it off of her finger. Mike's semen was like Alice's cake, making her feel so tall that her head would hit the ceiling. A flush of warmth embraced her, and she was no longer afraid.
When Patty emerged from the bathroom, Mike was fully dressed and sporting his knapsack. He hugged her, gave her a peck on the cheek and thanked her again. Then he was off to meet with his friends at the Williams Library on the campus of Charter Oak College. And Patty listened to the Laguna rumble off into the distance.
The remainder of that Friday was without incident. Patty and Mike's father had pork chops and mashed potatoes for dinner. Mike caught a grinder and fries with his friends.
Saturday.
Mike showered before his date with Linda. He spent the better part of his waking hours adjusting the throttle valve cable on the Laguna.
Even on a brisk autumnal morning Mike's father was hard at work, conducting business between the eleventh green and the twelfth tee. He came home after sunset, and Patty could smell the Beefeater cologne exuding through the pores of his slowly loosening stubbled cheekskin as he hugged her in the kitchen. Hard cock through gabardine dug into her belly, and she knew he'd have her.
Mike's father brought the same no nonsense force to the bedroom that he did to his business. Patty lay across the bed, her ass halfhanging off the edge. Her ankles rested on Mike's father's hunched shoulders as he gripped her calves, whiteknucked.
Cadences of clapping flesh reverberated through the room, mingling with masculine sweaty grunts, for the better part of an hour. Patty's body jiggled with each thrust, her hair fanned out over the bedspread. Though she felt Mike's father's turgid cock plunging in and out of her body, her mind began to drift.
Patty began to wonder about Mike's date with Linda.
She could picture them, making out in the backseat of his Laguna. She envisioned Mike flicking his tongue over Linda's pink nipples, feeling and caressing her taut body with his soft hands.
Patty began to identify with Linda. Her imagination took on Linda's point of view, until finally she and Linda melded. She could feel Mike's tongue. She could feel Linda's pleasure building, her desire driving her half mad. She let out a soft moan that spurred Mike's father to plunge her harder and faster.
PattyLinda unbuttoned Mike's jeans and slid them down to his ankles, so that he was bare from the waist down on the back bench of the Chevy. She gently held Mike's nipple between her teeth, and then slowly kissed her way down his body to his lap. She sucked the inside of each of his thighs, and then ran the tip of her tongue up the underside of his stiffened cock.
The head of Mike's cock was like a buttersalty sweetcherry lollipop. She took it between her lips and swirled her tongue around it. Patty wanted her son's cock. She wanted to taste it. She wanted to taste his balls.
Mike's father's thrusts became erratic, and Patty was slingshot back to reality. He emitted a grunt and a roar. Patty felt the warm flow of her husband's spurting semen filling and coating the inside of her worn hot pussy. The slick fluid conducted enough stimulation to send her over the edge, and she felt a brief flush of ecstasy.
Silently and swiftly, Mike's father strode to the other side of the bed and lay down, spreading his legs apart. Patty pulled herself solidly onto the bed, crawling over to her husband's side. She gave his beefy body a couple of pretextual kisses and then went about licking up their commingled stickysmooth tartness. She scrubbed his cock and balls clean with her tongue.
Mike and Linda sat on the loveseat, awash in the azure glow of the black and white Zenith in the basement rec-room of her parent's Willard Avenue Cape Cod. They barely noticed that Midnight Special had ended, and Night Gallery was playing on the late show. Linda's mother had long since gone to bed, and the silence was only broken by Roddy McDowall being tormented by ever changing paintings.
Mike sucked on Linda's neck as she cooed and sighed. His hands worked their way up under her blouse, and he enveloped the rigidsatin cup of her bra with the palm of his hand. She in turn had her hand on the inside of Mike's thigh, with her fingers intermittently making contact with the swelling cock and balls encased in his tight jeans.
Mike opened up his jeans and slid them to his ankles, revealing his hardened flesh.
"I'm sorry, Mike. I can't tonight", Linda glowered.
"Can't?"
"No, I can't."
"Why ... uh ...", Mike stammered.
"I have my monthly friend."
"Oh", Mike said dejectedly.
"Well, it's not fair for me too", Linda whined. "I wanted you to fuck me."
"Oh. Far out."
"I can still make you feel good", Linda sheepishly proposed. She gripped Mike's hard prick and started to stroke it.
