Chapter 4

She cooked a terrific dinner, working very hard at the preparation in order to keep her mind away from what she had been doing the rest of the day—sharing oral sex with Chuck Baker, and being fucked by his young son.

It was difficult maintaining normal discussions with her own husband, but Regina managed by keeping everything on the level of food and kids and what they were going to do for the rest of the summer.

From time to time, as she bustled about the kitchen, Regina cast sidelong glances at her husband, feeling a stranger to him for the first time in many years. He was still a good-looking man, tall and fair, with deep brown eyes and chocolate brown hair. Bill was only 38, and she wondered why he had cooled toward her sexually.

Was it the burden of habit, a too well-known set of responses that had turned into boredom? Probably, she thought; it wasn’t that she didn’t love Bill any more; it was that with Chuck, there was the flaming excitement of newness, of romance.

Bill might even feel the same way, with some other woman. With Stella, then; Regina set the table and thought about using Stella to divert her husband. It would ease the pressure all the way around, make Stella not so watchful over Chuck and probably prevent her from discovering the other liaison between her son and Regina.

Bill said, “You’re looking great, baby.”

She almost jumped, but fought her tensed body into stillness. “Thank you, Bill.”

He came close to her. “It’s not a new hairdo, and even though that dress looks great on you, it’s not new, either. I can’t figure just what it is about you, but I’d swear you look years younger—and sexier, too.”

She manufactured a quick smile for him, brushed by to arrange the table setting. “Oh? It’s nice of you to notice.”

This was something she hadn’t even taken into consideration, the fact that her husband might suddenly turn sensuous and want her again. How could she screw Bill, without thinking of those torrid sessions with his best friend—and with that horny sixteen-year-old boy?

Lifting her voice to forestall any other advances by Bill, she called out: “Come and get it, kids! Dinner’s ready.”

She thought she read disappointment in his eyes as she rushed back into the kitchen, but there had also been a heightening of interest. Regina sensed that she would have to steel herself to being laid by her own husband this evening, although the marks of her other fuckings that day hadn’t had time to wear away yet.

Their kids saved her from further introspection, bouncing in to the table and kidding each other the way they usually did. Serving the steak, Regina looked over her children, seeing them with newly speculative eyes, since her sweaty coupling with one of their contemporaries.

There was Dale, seventeen years old with a beautiful tan that set off his blond hair and green eyes. He was nearly as tall as his father, but slimmer, with that arrogant slouch of the young male. Did her son have hot eyes for some older married woman, like Carey Baker had? Would her own son blackmail that woman into sexual relations with him, as Carey had?

No, Regina thought, shaking her head as she brought out the baked potatoes and trimmings of sour cream and the like. Dale wouldn’t go so far; he was still just a kid—but older than Carey. He must have some of the same powerful sex pressures within him, then. She bit her lip and refused to think any more along that line, because the image that came to mind was one of her golden boy in a leggy tangle with none other than Stella Baker.

Then there was her daughter Monica, only sixteen, but already a raving beauty with dark honey hair and liquid brown eyes, a tall, lithe girl fond of swimming and sports. Could Monica possibly have some of the same ideas about screwing, or could she already be getting laid by one of her boyfriends?

Regina glanced at the pert breasts lifting against the thin, almost see-through blouse her daughter wore, and wondered. But that was a terrible thing to think. Just because she had been fucking two different lovers was no cause to blame her children for things they hadn’t done.

Or had they?

Somehow, she got through the dinner, accepting their compliments on the cooking, and somehow she ate dessert and smiled when the kids cleared the table and stuffed the dishwasher for her. But her mind was leaping here and there like a terrified rabbit, reliving her recent sins and wondering how she was going to handle the upcoming screwing with Bill.

He barely gave the heavy dinner time to digest before making his first move. The kids had been gone for an hour then, and Regina had desperately changed channels on TV and gone to the bathroom and everything else to keep him from getting seriously passionate. But he wasn’t to be put off any longer, and she didn’t really want to avoid screwing him. That might make him suspicious, since she had always been responsive to his needs.

So when he reached for her, she sank onto the couch with him, sliding her arms around his waist and turning her face for his kiss. His tongue lightly touched hers, and she surprised herself by the violent answer she gave it.

“Hey,” Bill said, “something has really turned you on. Like I said earlier, you look different, act different. And I’m not knocking it, baby.”

She kissed him again, before he could ask any questions or come to any conclusions. Having sex with other men had brightened her, made her more receptive, warmer and softer. Now if she could only fuck him well, without feeling guilty...

Her hand was moving of its own accord, delving into his pants and bringing out the familiar prick with its knobby head. It felt hard and eager on her fingers, and she drew her nails along the bottom of his shaft, scratching gently into the hair that thickly surrounded his balls.

Sighing, Bill cupped her tits in both hands while she played with his cock, and she knew a twinge of frustration as they were falling into the same old pattern. Deliberately breaking it, she suddenly leaped up and whipped her dress over her head. Following with bra and panties, she was naked in a moment, and Bill stared at her, disconcerted.

“Regina—what if the kids come home early?”

She was back beside him with one flowing movement, tugging at his pants and urging them off. “They won’t—but if they do, that’s too damned bad.”

“Look, baby—we can go on upstairs as we always do—”

“No,” she said sharply. “We’re not going to do anything the way we always do. There are no rules to screwing, nothing that says we have to do it this way or that way. I’m pretty damned tired of all that, Bill.”

He could only stare at her as she pulled down his pants, but he lifted his ass so she could work his shorts over his legs. “What’s gotten into you, Regina? I thought we were kind of happy; slowing down some, of course, like all old married couples, but—”

“I’m not old,” she said, and pushed him back upon the couch, a little amazed at her own temerity, but also tasting the heady wine of a new power. “And anything I want to do with you or to you is right, Bill. Do you understand that—right?”

He lay back as her face approached his belly-button. “I-I don’t know.”

She’d gone this far, and the pushing was doing something to her, besides blotting out any sense of guilt she might be carrying. Maybe she’d make her husband angry, or upset him so much that he’d reject her, but that was a chance she was simply going to have to take. Regina kissed his belly and ran the tip of her hotly questing tongue down the line of crisp hair to his navel.

“Regina! What the hell are you—”

Paying no heed to the shock in his voice, nor to the reaching out of his hands for her head, she licked swiftly down to his pelvis, and when Bill jerked at the touch, wrapped her tongue around the thick base of his veined cock.

“Baby—oh baby, no! You can’t—”

Cupping his balls with one hand, grasping the root of his prick with the other, she whispered fiercely, “The hell I can’t!” and ran her mouth, nipping the length of his shaft. When her lips came to the purplish head, she opened them wide and fitted them cupping over it.

“Regina!” His hands tugged at her hair, but she would not let go, refused to remove the hotness of her mouth from around the head of her husband’s prick. It was the first time for her to ever taste it, the first time for Bill to know an oral caress from her, and it was long past time for them both to know the pleasures.

Her tongue raced over it, dipped into the little slot, picked up a sample of his pre-seminal fluid, and she thought how silly it had been of them to avoid this through the years. She felt his fingers tighten in her hair, but he stopped trying to pull her away, and was only holding on. Regina began to suck, to draw his head deep into the back of her ready throat, as she had learned by eating another man’s prick. Suck it in, push it back out with her tongue; draw it deep and lick it shallow. It was nice.

“Oh,” Bill panted, “oh good lord, baby! I—we never did this before—I--you—”

She answered “Ummm,” raking the head of his cock along the roof of her mouth, and along her dormant tongue. He tasted different from Chuck, but she couldn’t compare the flavor of his prick with that of Carey’s, because she had not yet sucked the boy. But she would, she promised herself, she certainly would. She got a special kick from making men squirm like this, and she adored the matchless intimacy of eating prick.

Her husband writhed and bucked his belly, his thighs trembling spasmodically. She clung to his balls and bobbed her head up and down on his cock, sucking and licking, pulling and pushing.

Bill gasped: “Baby—let me take it out—oh please baby! I’m going to come—I’ll come in your mouth, if you don’t let go!”

She hummed “Ummm!” again, and worried the flexing bulb of his prick with her teeth before applying wet suction once more. She felt the powerful rise of his semen as it came throbbing through the veins of his cock, felt the expansion of the head as the come gathered there.