{NEW} Hypocrisy by Al Steiner (FM, adultery, preg)

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X-Original-Message-ID: 7akl05$bsc$1@nnrp1.dejanews.com Here's my latest effort to the world of erotic fiction. This one is a little
bit of a change from my usual female initiated seduction theme. Let me know
how you like it as I've got others of this theme in my head itching to be put
down on paper, or the screen anyway. As always please feel free to archive,
repost, or do anything else with besides using for profit, taking credit for
it, or changing the text in any way. Send any thoughts at all to
All legitimate E-mail will be eventually answered. By
the way, if you're on AOL, you might not get the entire post. Try to find it
at Dejanews or some other such place if you want to read it all.
HYPOCRISY
By Al Steiner
Neighbors. Everyone has them. Sometimes they get along with them, sometimes
they don't. My wife and I are fairly lucky. We live in a suburban
neighborhood full of tract houses. Front and back, our house contacts four
others; our two next-door neighbors and two that adjoin our backyard. We've
never had any major problems with any of them but our relationships with each
vary. On the right rear we don't know the people. On the right, next door,
we're cordial with them, never socializing or anything else. On the left,
next door, they are very good friends of ours. We socialize with them
frequently and they are among our closest acquaintances. And then there are
the left rear people. They're different without a doubt and neither my wife nor myself cares too
much for them. Their names are Maggie and Jonathan. Jonathan sells real
estate for a living. Maggie is mostly a housewife but she works part time as
a receptionist at some insurance company. They have a son named Joseph who
is the same age as my oldest daughter; seven. Maggie and Joseph are
born-again Christians with all of the zeal that goes along with that
particular breed. Now I have no problem with religion. I don't believe in organized religion
myself; I think it's so obviously a form of mass behavioral control that it
sometimes surprises me that so many people fall for it, but I've always been
a firm believer in live and let live. I have my own views on God and
morality and for the most part I like to think I'm a good person. I rarely
lie, I don't steal or kill, and I do my best to think of others than myself
in my actions. I'm proud of the fact that I do this voluntarily, without the
threat of eternal damnation if I don't. I don't know or profess to know what
happens after we die, figuring I'll find out eventually anyway. Maggie and
Jonathan have both professed to me that if I don't believe in Jesus Christ as
the Savior that I will burn in hell after death for this. "Even though I'm a nice, moral person?" I ask them on the many occasions
that they'd discussed this with me. "Even though I live my life pretty much
according to the Bible's standards of saintly behavior? Even with all of
that, I'll be cast into hell simply because I don't believe in J.C.?" "Exactly." They would reply, and then usually admonish me for referring to
The Lord as 'J.C.". "I simply cannot accept that as the workings of a so-called kind and rational
God." I would tell them. "It's completely without logic. By your own
argument, Hitler, if he believed in Christ, is up there in Paradise right now
while all of those six million Jews he killed, no matter how moral they were,
are burning in hell." "That's correct." They would say, pleased that they'd made their point so
nicely, completely unaware of the madness of what they were saying. That's the problem with devout believers in the bible. You simply can't
argue with them. It's frustrating beyond belief trying to argue a point with
someone who does not find it necessary to incorporate logic and common sense
into their arguments. Religion is one of those subjects I do not like to
debate. You will never change anyone's mind about it. There are others of
course. Gun control, abortion, republican vs. democrat. I stay away from
those subjects whenever possible but when someone like Maggie or Jonathan
insists upon bringing them up, I have my ammunition always ready (and
interestingly enough, Maggie and Joseph disagree with me on ALL of the
previous examples). Now their born-again zeal is annoying but that is not the main reason that I
don't care too much for them. The main reason is their hypocrisy. I respect
people who believe in what they preach and practice it. One of my co-workers
is a Roman Catholic. Though that seems to me to be one of the more bizarre
manifestations of religion, he follows it to the letter. He is moral to the
point of sainthood. He follows every directive that the Pope hands down. He
does not practice any form of birth control and as a result has fathered six
children to this point. He does not believe in public schools so his wife
home- schools all of his children. I've met these children and they are
intelligent, thoughtful kids that any parent would be proud to have. He
lives his life according to the rules set down in the bible and he is one of
the nicest, most honest, decent people I've ever met in my entire life. He
does not impose his views upon others unless he is asked to and he does not
come across as if he and his family are better than others because of their
beliefs. Maggie and Jonathan however, are not like this. They preach to you one
minute, telling you you're a sinner, inviting you to bible studies, and try
to stab you in the back the next. Jonathan has more than once tried to get
me involved in shady real estate deals. Maggie has tried to bully my wife
into hosting one of those pampered chef parties, one of those deals where the
distributor, Maggie, is the one to make all of the money while the host does
all of the work and has her house get trashed. Both of them have lied and
smooth-talked while trying to convince us to join in these ventures. Maggie
has tried to sell us household items like curtains, throw rugs, or furniture
for outrageously inflated prices. When we've been strapped for a babysitter
on occasion and forced to call on Maggie, she actually charged us for
watching our two girls, despite the fact that we've watched her kid multiple
times for longer periods for free. The best example of their legacy is their child, Joseph. He goes to school
with my two daughters and often talks to them through the fence when they're
playing outside. Sometimes he comes over to our house to play (often these
are actually babysitting episodes, his mother will sometimes ask if he can
come over to play and then take off to run some errands). He is the most
spoiled brat I've ever encountered in my life. My children are well behaved
if I do say so myself. My wife and I are strict but fair with them. If we
tell our kids not to do something, they damn sure don't do it. Joseph
however, will listen to you explain the rules and then break them two minutes
later when your back is turned. He is a manipulator, talking my kids
constantly into doing things they shouldn't be doing ('your daddy won't mind
if you turn on the hose and squirt you mommy's flowers'). Maggie and
Jonathan do not discipline him at all. They'll threaten him with punishment
for doing something anti-social but they never follow through with what they
threaten. Joseph, I imagine, picked up on this long ago. Carla and I long ago decided to keep our contact with this family to a
minimum. For the most part we're successful. But then came the attack of the
dreaded stomach flu. When you have kids that go to public school they pick up all kinds of weird
viruses and bring them home with them. The stomach flu is perhaps the worst
of this variety. As fate would have it, it was during my shift of childcare
that it struck my two girls with a vengeance. My wife is a nine to fiver, Monday through Friday as an accountant at the
local television station. I am not a nine to fiver. I work at the same
television station in the news department (at work is where we'd initially
met each other). I am nothing so glamorous as a reporter or an anchorman.
I'm a computer technician and an expert on graphics. When you watch the news
and see all of those weather satellite pictures, captions beneath newsclips,
maps, or cute little graphic pictures in the background, you have someone
like me to thank for them. I work the weekend swing shift. My hours are
Thursday through Monday from 4:00 PM to 11:30, the hours that encompass the
afternoon and nightly news broadcasts. On most of my days off I watch my two girls, getting them up in the morning,
feeding them their breakfasts and sending them off to school. When they get
home I feed them a snack and prepare dinner for the family. On that
particular Tuesday morning my wife got ready for work while I fried up eggs
for the girls, Megan and Ashley. They seemed a little slow that morning, a
little lethargic, picking at their food instead of wolfing it like they
usually did. "Daddy." Ashley, the younger child who was in kindergarten told me. "My
tummy doesn't feel good." "Mine either." Megan agreed. Just as Carla, dressed in a smart business outfit was preparing to kiss them
goodbye, Megan hiccuped and then vomited an incredible amount of stomach
contents all over her shirt and pants. Her face turned instantly green as she
struggled to rush to the bathroom and the toilet. She spewed vomit out of her
as she went. As if on cue, Ashley, who was still sitting at the table, did the same,
blemishing her own favorite dress. She headed for the other bathroom, leaving
a similar trail behind her. I closed my eyes in resignation as Carla fought to suppress a chuckle of
amusement. "I don't envy you today." She told me, grabbing her purse and car
keys and heading for the door after giving me a quick kiss. I gave her a
vaguely obscene curse as she left. I'd been through this before and though it is not pleasant, it's simply one
of those things you have to put up with as a parent. The kids knew WHERE they
were supposed to vomit but the problem was that they had a hard time reading
the warning signs that their bodies gave. The result was soiled clothes and
carpets. So far the sickness had been routine. I wouldn't realize that a
major problem was developing in my household until later that day. I
comforted the kids and called them in sick from school. I changed their
clothes and threw the soiled ones in the laundry pile, which was already
quite high from yesterday's clothes. They promptly barfed on their fresh
clothes, adding them to the laundry pile. They had diarrhea as well, soiling
several pairs of underwear. They threw up on their favorite stuffed animals,
causing them to be added to the laundry pile. They went to bed to lie down
and they vomited and/or defecated on their linen, not just the bottom sheet
mind you, they managed to stain every piece of bedding in one way or another.
I replaced the linen and had the same thing happen again. Again, this was all routine unpleasantness until I decided to start washing
some of the huge pile of laundry. The first load went through the wash cycle
without any problem and I transferred it to the dryer. It was when I went to
pull this load out of the dryer an hour later that I realized that fate was
shitting on me. The laundry was still soaking wet and cold. Some
experimentation finally showed me that the heating element in the dryer had
picked this particular, inconvenient time to go out on me. There was no way
to dry the clothes. A call to my friendly appliance repairman revealed that I could not get the
thing fixed for two days. In the meantime I had at least four loads of
laundry to do, some of which was vital to the progression of the household.
I considered stringing a clothesline out in the backyard but a quick glance
at the weather told me that this was impossible. A typical Seattle early
spring day was in progress. Grey clouds filled the sky and misty moisture,
not quite heavy enough to qualify as rain was drifting down from them.
Clothes hung outside would do nothing but get wetter. I needed to borrow someone's dryer in a bad way. I called our next door
neighbors, Tim and Lisa, but only got an answering machine. I called our
across-the-street neighbors, another couple we were friendly with and got
another answering machine. I called Carla's mother who lived a few miles
away, receiving nothing but perpetual rings. Finally, out of desperation, I
called Maggie, who I was reasonably certain would be home, though I figured
she would want to charge me for the use of her dryer. She picked up the phone on the second ring and greeted me politely. I
explained my problem to her and, to my delight, she offered to come over and
take my wet laundry for no charge whatsoever. She showed up at the door a few
minutes later. I had heard from Tim and Lisa that Maggie was pregnant but it was surprising
to see her anyway. Maggie is an attractive woman with a well-proportioned
body and large, firm breasts. She has dark blonde hair, always styled
smartly, and is fond of short skirts that show off her attractive legs. She
was wearing one of these skirts despite the weather and her stomach bulged
out considerably with her mid-term pregnancy. Her breasts had also grown
considerably too. I remembered hearing from Lisa once that Maggie had been
"a little wild" before she'd found salvation with Jonathan and The Lord.
Looking at her pretty legs I wondered just how wild she'd been. I thanked her gratefully as I showed her into the house. She wobbled her
stomach behind me, looking at the pile of soiled laundry that sat before the
washing machine. "You're sure you don't mind doing this for me?" I asked her as I handed over
a basket full of wet darks. "Not at all." She smiled. "Is it the stomach flu? I heard that it's going
around the school. Do you need any more help?" I was about to tell her that I didn't when Megan wandered in to see who the
visitor was. She was about to speak but her face turned green again and fresh
vomit sprayed out of her mouth, splattering her pajamas and the carpet at her
feet before she rushed off to the bathroom. I lowered my head once more, resigned to my fate, before looking at Maggie.
"I don't suppose." I asked, "That you have any carpet cleaner? I used the
last of mine about three vomits ago." "Sure." She smiled, eyeing the stain that Megan had left. "I'll bring some
right over." By the time she returned I had things stable once again. The worst of the
stain was removed, the two girls were in their beds with their third set of
linen of the day, sleeping soundly, their faces feverish and moist. I took
the opportunity to crack open a bottle of beer and sip it while watching the
History Channel on television. I invited Maggie in and she demonstrated her
carpet cleaner for me and then offered to sell me a year's supply of it from
the distributor she was associated with. I told her that Carla handled all
of those sorts of decisions and that she would have to talk to her about
that. Unfair to Carla maybe, but then she didn't have to deal with the
stomach flu and the broken dryer at the same time. "Didn't you just love the way it cleaned the carpet though?" Maggie asked me.
"Be sure to tell her how great of a job it does." "I will." I promised absently, although I hadn't noticed any difference in
cleaning ability from standard carpet cleaners. I waved to the couch. "Would
you like to sit down?" "Sure." She smiled, waddling over to the couch and planting herself there. I offered her something to drink and, although I didn't have any caffeine-free
diet cola on hand, she settled for some herbal tea that Carla kept around. I
served her and that sat down in my chair across from her, sipping at my beer,
which went down my throat like the finest wine. "It's really strange." Maggie told me, eyeing my beer. "I haven't drank
alcohol since I found The Lord, but since I've been pregnant, I've been
craving the taste of it. The same thing happened with Joseph." She
shrugged. "I guess God is testing me." I nodded, though I figured it was probably just one of those bizarre cravings
that pregnant women had. Carla used to crave honeydew melons and Cornish
game hens when she was pregnant. She once ate three honeydews at a sitting
and then threw it all up twenty minutes later. The alcohol thing interested
me though. "You used to drink?" I asked her. She nodded. "Oh yes, back in high school and college, before I was saved, I
used to drink some." Her eyes glazed a little with nostalgia. "I never
really liked it that much, you understand, but I drank a little." I could see in her eyes and hear in the tone of her voice that she was lying.
I got the impression that she used to drink a lot and liked it immensely. I
decided to pursue this line of questioning and see where it led. "Did you
ever smoke pot?" I asked next. "Oh no." She said, much too quickly. "I never touched THAT at all." "What were you like?" I enquired. "Before you found The Lord?" "I was a little bit of a wretch." She said, taking her words directly from
'Amazing Grace'. "I used to, you know, have a lot of boyfriends and such. I
used to go to parties all of the time where everyone got drunk. But when I
found the Lord, He showed me the errors of my ways." So she used to have a good time, I figured, but now she was repressing it. It
was a pity she was pregnant. Had she not been, I would have offered to roll a
joint from the supply of greenbud I kept in the top shelf of the pantry and
smoke it with her, just to test her resistance to temptation. Oh well, maybe
some other time when she was not pregnant. "You ever miss those days?" I asked her next. "Never." She said, with conviction that was much too firm. "In the Lord I've
found the strength to live a moral and decent life." "I see." I said. A minute later she was offering to make us a set of curtains for our dining
room window. She could probably do it, she figured, for less than two hundred
dollars. Again I belayed that decision to Carla, taking a perverse delight in
doing so. I knew of course that Carla was perfectly capable of making new
curtains with her own sewing machine for less than forty bucks worth of
material. She helped me throughout that miserable day, bringing my fresh, folded
laundry to me and taking the wet loads back to her house. Together we
finished all of the loads that had accumulated. In between loads she would
sit and talk with me, drinking my wife's herbal tea (I was tempted to offer
to sell her a supply of it for an inflated cost, but restrained myself) while
I drank soda, water, or beer. She discussed frequently her favorite subject
of conversation when talking to me, the personalities of the newscasters I
dealt with at work. She particularly delighted in finding out that they were
arrogant assholes, which most of them are. She tried to sell me things about
ten times. She tried to invite me to bible studies or their church about
twenty. But also, she seemed to be flirting with me in a friendly way,
chatting in a way that she probably hadn't done since she'd found The Lord.
I admired her looks and her body while we talked, entranced by her legs.
They were really very pretty, shapely and well muscled, the edema of
pregnancy only shaping them more alluringly. Pregnant women had always turned
me on. When it was time for her to go pick up Joseph from school and start making
dinner for her family, she bade me farewell, reminding me to talk to Carla
about the curtains and the carpet cleaner and all of the other things she
tried to pawn off. I assured her I would. She then offered to help me with
the laundry the next day if I required it. I gladly accepted for more than
one reason. Carla came home on schedule and helped me the rest of the night. She
sympathized with me about having to put up, not only with stomach flu and a
broken dryer, but Maggie as well. When we got the girls put down we shared a
bottle of wine and then went to bed, stripping down and engaging in a typical
session of marriage sex. As I thrust into my wife I found myself imagining
that it was Maggie beneath me, her swollen stomach pressing into mine. I
enjoyed the orgasm that this produced very much. The good thing about the stomach flu is that it burns itself out very quickly.
The girls stained one more set of bedding and two sets of pajamas but in the
morning they were back to themselves, wolfing their breakfasts down and
chattering happily to each other about how many times they'd puked the day
before. I deemed them well enough to go to school and, once Carla left for
work, drove them there and dropped them off. I ran into Maggie there as she
dropped Joseph off. "So they're better huh?" She asked, smiling. "Much." I told her. "Do you still need my help with laundry?" "Please." I said. "It's not as much as yesterday but I still have quite a
pile." "What time should I come over?" "Gimmee an hour to clean up and get the first load done. Sound good?" "It's a date." She grinned, heading for her car, hands supporting her
stomach. She came over to pick up the first wet load precisely on time. She looked
very pretty I noticed, dressed in a pair of loose-fitting bluejean overalls
that bulged outward at the abdomen, and a white sweater. Her hair was pulled
back in it's usual ponytail. I felt a strong tug of sexual attraction for
her as I stood aside to allow her entry into my home. She carried off my load of laundry and, although there was no reason for her
to do so, she came back five minutes later to sit with me. I made her some
tea as I emptied the dishwasher and then poured myself a cup of coffee and
joined her in the living room. As we chatted she became slightly flirty
again (in between trying to sell me things or save my soul that is) and I
realized that she was starved for conversation. Bringing up the image of
Jonathan in my mind, I didn't find this very surprising. At one point I brought up her son. "So how is Joseph going to react to having
a new baby in the house?" I asked her. "It'll be quite a change for him." "Oh he's as excited as the Jonathan and I." She answered automatically. "He
already loves the baby." I nodded though I had my doubts. Joseph was a spoiled brat already and he'd
had his parents to himself for seven years. I didn't think he was going to be
too keen when he suddenly found his parent's attention taken almost completely
by a squalling infant. I commented on how much time they'd chosen between
their two children. "We've wanted to have another one for a long time." She said. "I guess God
finally decided to bless us again after all this time." She paused, and then
said something completely out of character. "Or maybe Jonathan just finally
picked the right time to get his dickens up." While I translated the archaic statement in my mind I saw her blushing at what
she'd said. She was talking about sex. Maggie! I certainly wasn't going to
let this door shut once it had been opened. "Really?" I said, raising my eyebrows. "Carla and I found that if we passed
each other in the hall at the right time she was pregnant. I guess it just
takes a little longer with some people. Did you have to do the temperature
thing and ovulation prediction and all that?" "No." She said. "We just let God's will take care of it." She soured. "Of
course God could've put Jonathan in the mood a little more often and it might
have saved a year or two." Again she blushed, as if unable to believe that she'd said that. "So Jonathan's not in the mood that often huh?" Her face was now as red as a stop sign. "I really shouldn't be talking about
it." She said. "It's not proper." I shrugged, but continued to prod. "That's okay." I said. "But we're
friends and neighbors. I understand what it's like. Carla's not always in
the mood when I am, but that's just men for you. I'm in the mood a lot." "Sometimes I wish Jonathan would think like most men." She said. "He a
saintly man and I'll be at his side come the rapture, but he always feels
guilty about.... You know, making love." "What's to feel guilty about?" I enquired. "You're married. You're supposed
to make love. Often and well." "No, we, that is Jonathan feels that making love is a necessary evil reserved
for procreation only." "You're kidding." "Oh no." She said. "And I agree of course." She sounded very unconvincing
about this last statement. "So since you found out you were pregnant, you haven't had sex?" "No!" She seemed shocked. "You and Carla didn't... you know, when she was
pregnant did you?" "Not much the first trimester." I said honestly. "She was sick all the time.
But during the second and third trimesters, when those hormones kicked in." I
grinned lasciviously. "We were like rabbits. Once a day at least. Hell, I
had to turn it down a lot just because I was so tired. Pregnancy is great." She was someone taken aback by the bluntness of my words, but I could see a
twinkle in her eyes at the same time. "You actually did it when she was
showing?" "You know it." I answered. "I think pregnant women are sexy. When does a
woman look more feminine after all? We did it all the way up to less than a
week before delivery, both times." "Isn't that dangerous?" She asked, wide-eyed. "Aside from the morality issue
that is?" I wasn't going to argue morality with her but I answered her other question.
"Not at all. Her doctor said to go for broke until the cervix started to
dilate just before delivery. Even then there's other ways to make love." "Other ways?" She asked, incredulous at our paganhood, but fascinated too, I
could tell. "You know? Oral sex. We both love to do that." "You two do THAT?" She asked. "Sure." I said. "Don't you and Jonathan? It's part of making love." "No!" She said firmly. "It's a perversion. I don't think we should talk
about this any more." I shrugged again. "To each their own I guess. It's hard to believe you never
go down on each other though. Not even once?" "No!" I smiled, relishing how shocked and self-righteous she was, also noting that
she was still in my house and not storming out the door in disgust. "Well
didn't you do that when you used to party? Before you found The Lord?" She hesitated. "Welllll, a few times. But I never liked it." "Which one?" I asked. "Going down or being gone down upon?" "I did them both. And I didn't like either one." She said strongly. "Now
let's change the subject or I'm going to leave." "Okay." I said, folding. For the moment. It was Maggie that next brought up the subject of sex. I knew I had her
hooked then. She had just carried over a folded set of laundry, taken
another load to her dryer, and once again had come back to my house without
any real reason to do so. After I'd put away the last of what she'd brought,
we sat down to another cup of tea. "So how often do you and Carla, you know, do that that we were talking about?"
She asked timidly, a fresh flush on her face. "You mean go down on each other?" I asked, pulling no punches. She nodded quietly, her eyes sparkling again, betraying her. "Quite a bit." I said. "We really do like to do that. She doesn't do it to
me as often as I do it to her. She maybe sucks me once a month or so but I
eat her damn near every time we have sex. I've gotten quite good at it, if I
do say so myself." "Every time?" She asked, mouth agape. "Well, I don't do it when she's on her period of course. I do have SOME
limits to what I'll do." "You have sex with her when she's on her period?" She seemed genuinely
disgusted by that one. "Why not?" I asked. "You just put down a towel and take a shower afterword.
When you're horny you're horny, right? But as for eating, Carla's got me and
she knows it. I LOVE to do it to her. I can eat her for an hour at a time,
until my tongue cramps. I just wish she'd go down on me a little more." "Disgusting." She opined, but her face and eyes said differently. Until that moment I hadn't given much thought to where this discussion was
leading. I was just trying to shock our righteous neighbor a little, all in
good fun. But I could now see that, despite her words, I was arousing her.
Her nipples were clearly hard, showing even through the thick material of her
overalls. She fidgeted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. She
stroked her neck and her cheek as she listened, running her manicured nails
over her flushed skin. Her blue eyes were shining at me. Her tongue reached
out and licked her lips quite often. And I was getting aroused too,
imagining the beautiful, pregnant body beneath those clothes. Imagining the
wet pussy that had to be between those legs. Could I seduce her? It seemed
a good possibility. Did I want to, really? I'd never cheated on my wife
before and I'm quite certain that she'd never cheated on me. Doing so would
be an awful betrayal of her. But I'd never been tempted like this before and
the allure of bagging Maggie overrode my marital concerns. Part of me cried
out to put a stop to this before it went too far. But a bigger part of me
said to go forward and see where this led. "Now come on." I told her, my voice conveying confidentiality. "I've lived
with a pregnant woman before and I know what pregnancy does at your stage.
You've got to be horny as hell with all of those hormones in you and your
husband never fulfilling your womanly needs. Can you tell me with a straight
face that you don't want a little wang in you?" "No." She admitted. "I do get urges, strong ones in fact. But God..." "God is the one that gave you those urges, right? Why suppress them? You
oughtta demand that Jonathan give you a good hosing. And if you went down on
him I bet he'd be much more inclined to give it up." "You don't understand." She said. "He thinks it's wrong. He'd never allow
me to..." "Sure he would." I scoffed. "You may know how he thinks about God and the
bible, but he's a man like I am and I know that he would not be able to
resist if you opened his pants and slurped him down. Sexual instinct is
stronger than religion." "That's a blasphemy." She told me weakly. "Call it what you want." I told her. "But ninety percent of the planet is
religious and we have almost six billion people and a horrid overpopulation
problem. It's hard to believe that only ten percent of us are doing all the
screwing. Trust me, you take him in your mouth and you'll get some dick. He
won't be able to control himself. He won't try to stop you once you start the
action. Were you any good at it when you used to do it?" "I don't know." She said, confused. "I never had any complaints." "I don't imagine you did." I answered. "I'll tell you what, why don't you
try it on me first. I'll evaluate your technique, let you know if you're
doing it right. Give you tips." I watched her face carefully as I said this, knowing that I'd just crossed
over a big line. If she took major offense I could claim that I was joking
around, that I'd never intended her to take me seriously. Her face
registered shock but not disgust. "That would be adultery." She said softly. "That's against the Ten
Commandments." "Not really." I theorized for her, using my best used car salesman voice.
"Adultery would technically be intercourse. Oral sex doesn't really fit that
category. It would be just an instructional thing to help you with your
husband, to change his misguided views on sexuality. There's no commitment or
anything behind it. It would be kind of like... marriage counseling I guess." I saw a battle taking place behind her eyes. The devil and the angel were
struggling over how she should react to my words. It went on for nearly
thirty seconds or so. The devil won. "I suppose." She said finally, her voice soft. "That I could use a little
practice before I tried it on Jonathan." "That a girl." I said, feeling mixed emotions of my own. "Come over here and
show me how you do it." I opened my legs and rubbed my crotch. She hesitated for the briefest second and then stood up and walked over to me.
She stood before me, licking her lips nervously, her nipples still showing
through the denim of her clothes. "What do I do first?" "Well." I said, leaning back on the couch. "Pretend I'm Jonathan. He's
sitting on the couch like I am, doing whatever he does, and you want to seduce
me. The best thing to do is sit next to me, undo my pants, take out my cock,
and start sucking. By the time he realizes what's happening, he'll be too
enraptured to try and stop you." "Okay." She breathed. She sat down next to me on the couch. Her hands were trembling as she opened
the button on my fly and unzipped me, baring my blue underwear and my bulging
cock beneath them. Moving quickly she pulled my underwear downward as far as
they could go without my lifting my hips. My cock sprang into the air. She
grasped it in her cool hand and lowered her mouth to it, sucking its entire
length down her throat in one smooth motion. "Ahhhh." I couldn't help but emit as I felt her swallow me. Her mouth was
very wet, her tongue teasing, her hand jacking. I knew instantly that she
would need no instruction from me. She had obviously sucked more than a few
cocks in her "wild days" before the Lord and hadn't forgotten much. Once she'd taken the first step she was insatiable. She pulled my hips
upward, never losing contact with my cock, and pushed my pants and underwear
down my legs. I kicked off my shoes and soon I was naked from the waste
down. She bobbed up and down on me, sucking and teasing my dick while
applying just the right amount of pressure with her hand. She played with my
balls, making pleasant grunting noises with her vocal cords. I let my head
fall back on my shoulders, enjoying the sensation of my neighbor sucking me.
She was good. Much better at this than Carla in fact. I ran my hands through her dark blonde hair as she blew me. It was soft and
silky. I felt her large breasts pressing against my leg. I moved a hand
beneath the back of her overalls, trailing down her back to the top of her
panties, slipping my fingers beneath them and feeling the beginning of the
crack of her ass. Her flesh was soft and warm, very feminine. She made no
protest but picked up the pace of her sucking. She deep throated me, taking me all the way into her mouth, her lips meeting
my pubic hair. She paused and then pulled up before diving back down again.
She did this over and over, her hand fondling my balls, her rhythm picking up
in speed. My hips started to rise up and down on the couch as wet slurping
sounds emanated from my groin. I felt myself starting to come. Not just a
simple orgasm but the granddaddy of orgasms. It started somewhere in my
lower back and soon spread throughout my entire groin and abdomen. I began
panting. I groaned out what was about to happen to Maggie and she grunted
her approval while sucking harder and faster. "Ahhhh." I moaned, shooting the first load down her throat. Her mouth worked
furiously, sucking every drop out of my spasming dick. When she was done she raised her head out of my crotch, licking her lips as
she did so. I could tell, even through the post-orgasmic bliss that was
enfolding me, that she was turned on in a big way. She stared in my eyes. "How was that?" She asked breathlessly. "I think you got that down." I breathed. "You've done that before, haven't
you?" "A time or two." She said sweetly. "Do you think Jonathan will like it?" I nodded. "I think SO." I looked at her, taking in her body and her swollen
abdomen. I wanted more. "You know," I said, "I feel I should repay you
somehow." "Oh?" She asked, smiling. "Yes." I said. "How about I do the same for you? It's only fair." "You mean..." "I'll eat your pussy for you." I said. "It wouldn't be adultery any more
than what you just did for me." "No." She said, already reaching for the strap on her overalls. "I guess it
wouldn't." She kicked off her shoes and stood up before me. With a nervous, though
lustful expression, she unsnapped her straps and let the overalls fall to the
floor, leaving her only in a pair of white panties and her sweater. Her legs
made my dick start to stiffen once again. They were beautiful, firm and
smooth and nicely tanned, well shaped from her exercises. She stepped out of
her clothes and sat on the couch again, leaning back into the arm of it. I leaned forward, sliding my hands up the outside of her thighs, feeling
their silky smoothness. I gazed between them, seeing a large wet stain on
the crotch of her panties that outlined her vaginal lips. I caught the scent
of her arousal with my nose, wafting upwards from her wetness. I continued
my hands upward, running them beneath her sweater, pulling it up over her
swollen stomach, which I caressed. It was tight and smooth, covered with
goose flesh. I cupped her bra-clad breasts for a moment, giving them a
squeeze and then pulled her forward, towards me, lifting her sweater at the
same instant. She raised her arms up to allow me to remove it. I tossed it
aside, looking at her restrained breasts. I reached behind her for her bra
clasp. "I thought you were just going to eat me." She said, making no move to stop
me. "This is part of the eating experience." I said, undoing the clasp. Her bra
fell off of her, allowing her tits to bounce free. They were very large, the
size of cantaloupes, and firm with impending lactation development. They
were capped with huge nipples that stood proudly erect. I ran the backs of
my hands over them gently, feeling the nipples brush against my flesh, seeing
them jump and twitch with the contact. I pulled my own shirt over my head and tossed it aside. "Why'd you do that?" Maggie asked, near panting now. "I want you to feel my chest against your tits." I told her. "It's part of
the eating experience." "Oh." She breathed as I leaned forward and kissed her. She put her arms around me and returned my embrace, her hands gliding over my
back while our tongues began sliding together on a film of saliva. I rubbed
our bare chests back and forth, feeling our nipples glide against one another.
Her swollen abdomen pushed into mine. I ran my hands over her tits again and
down her sides, feeling the thin flesh of her flanks. She was a fabulous
kisser, making all the right moves in a kind of desperate duel. Did her
husband ever get kissed like this? I thought not. I broke our kiss and began working my way down her neck, licking and sucking,
taking my time. I kissed her shoulders and the tops of her breasts, placing
little sucks on the pale flesh north of her nipples. Finally I took a nipple
into my mouth and began to suckle it like a baby. I remembered from Carla's
pregnancies that female nipples are very sensitive during this time period
and, if you do it right, you can damn near make them come just by sucking on
them. She ran her fingers through my hair as I stroked her legs, moving from
one nipple to the other until her hips were actually moving up and down. I let the back of my hand trail across the crotch of her panties for an
instant, feeling wetness seeping through and her crotch lift upward to
increase the pressure. I began moving down on her, leaving her tits behind
and kissing my way across her lower chest and to the bulge of her pregnant
stomach. I slid my index finger under the crotch of her panties as I did
this, feeling kinky hair and wet, swollen flesh. I paused at her navel, kissing it and sticking my tongue into it teasingly.
She squealed in delight. I let the knuckle of my index finger rest between
her wet pussy lips, moving in small circles. The moisture increased and her
hips kept trying to push me in deeper. I continued over the peak of her
stomach and started down the other side, towards her crotch. I tugged at her
panties with my finger, pulling them downward. She put her legs together and
lifted her hips, allowing them safe passage off of her body. When her panties were on the floor I open her legs wide and placed them on my
shoulders. Her pussy was before me now, its lips open, the clit hard and wet.
She had a thin covering of dark brown pubic hair that was matted and wet with
her secretions. Her smell was powerful, arousing, filling my nose and making
me long to bury my face into its source. I brought my head down and let my tongue slide between her vaginal lips. She
groaned pleasurably as I finally made contact with her. I licked up and
down, tasting her juices, relishing them. I plunged in and out. I licked up
and down, taking her lips into my mouth and sucking them. I circled her
clit, brushing aside her hair with my tongue. I probed inside of her wetness
with my fingers, feeling her sheath contract around them as I moved them in
and out. While I pumped her with my fingers I began sucking gently on her
clit. It was a large one, as large as a small nipple, and she reacted
strongly to my attention to it. "Yessss." She cried, moving her hips to the rhythm, her baby-smooth thighs
pressed against my cheeks. I wanted to see her face as I ate her but was
prevented from doing this by her swollen belly. I started sucking more intently on her clit as I sensed her approaching
orgasm. Her hips began to move faster, with less control. Her pussy began to
clench my fingers harder. I gave her my piece de resistance, something that
always served to push Carla over the edge. I slid my wet fingers out of her
pussy and moved them south, against the puckered bud of her asshole. I pushed
forward with my slippery index, sliding it past the second knuckle into her
tight ass. "Ohhhh!" She screamed in surprise and alarm. "What are you.... Ohhhh! Ohhh
my God!" I began to thrust the finger in and out of her ass while I sucked frantically
on her clit. Her crotch began to smash against my face and she screamed even
louder as orgasm overtook her. It was a big one and she nearly choked me out
by clamping her legs around my neck. Her ass clenched tight around my finger,
making it go numb. Finally her moans and thrusts slowed and stopped, but I
wasn't done, not by a long shot. I continued to lick and suck at her pussy while finger fucking her ass. I
brought her to two more orgasms, each more powerful than the last before I
lifted my wet face from her crotch. I stared into her face as I stood up.
Her forehead was covered with sweat and she was panting like a dog. Her eyes
were wild and filled with desire. My dick was standing out before me once more. She locked her eyes on it,
licking her lips again. Her legs were still spread widely, her swollen pussy
lips red and inviting and dripping with saliva and secretions. "Fuck me." She commanded, running her feet up and down the outside of my
legs. "Put it in me and fuck me. Now!" "That would be adultery." I told her teasingly. "I don't care!" She barked. "I need it! Now fuck me!" I stepped forward, kneeling between her legs and taking them into my hands.
I placed her calves on my shoulders and pushed forward with my crotch,
planting the head of my dick against her slimy lips. I thrust forward,
sliding inside of her. Her hips pushed forward to meet me halfway. I found
myself encased in a strange vagina for the first time in forever. She was
tight and wet, her muscles squeezing as I began to move in and out. "Yesss!" She cried. "Fuck me hard! Fuck me hard!" I ran my hands up and down her legs as I pounded in and out of her. She
reached forward and grabbed my waist, pulling me atop her. Her stomach pushed
almost painfully into mine and her legs came around my back, making her
tighter. Her mouth sought out mine and our tongues came together, swirling
madly in and out of each other's mouth. Her hands squeezed my ass cheeks,
pulling me harder into her with each thrust. We kissed each other's mouths, our necks, our shoulders, our arms as we
fucked on the couch like pagans. I sped up, slowed down, thrust hard, thrust
soft. She groaned her way through first one orgasm and then another before I
felt the familiar tickle running down my spine. "I'm gonna come." I said breathlessly, my pelvis picking up the pace. "Yes! Come in me! Shoot it in me. Oh God!" I slammed in harder and felt orgasm spread through my body as I blasted the
inside of her with a large load. I felt her coming at the same time and
mangaged to keep up my thrusts until she was finished with her last. Finally
we collapsed atop each other, kissing and sucking each other's lips, my hands
still stroking her legs. After laying there for nearly ten minutes I pulled myself out of and off of
her, leaving her lying on my couch with sperm and juices running freely out of
her pussy, staining the cushion she was atop. We looked at each other
sheepishly for a moment and then she stood up. The better part of my seed
poured out of her as she did this, running down her legs and dripping on the
carpet. A common problem with screwing pregnant women I remembered, since
their cervix is closed tight to protect the baby. "Sorry." She mumbled, seeing the stains she left. "Can I use your bathroom
to, you know, clean myself up?" "Of course." I said, waving her towards it. She picked up her clothes and
headed that way. While she was gone I pondered what I had just done. I felt an intense wave
of guilt for cheating on my wife now that the testosterone in my body had
been relieved. I'd let lust get the better of me. What if Carla found out
what I'd done? Mechanically I put my clothes back on. When Maggie emerged from the bathroom she was smiling. "I want to thank you."
She said brightly. "For showing me what to do about Jonathan." "Sure." I said, "But..." "That was a great demonstration of how he'll react if I just do a little, you
know, oral sex. Very realistic demonstration." "What?" She came over and kissed me on the lips, poking a little at me with her
tongue. "I'll go get your laundry now. I do have a short memory however. I
might need another demonstration later." She winked, heading for the door. I watched her go numbly, my desire for her all but gone. While I was feeling
guilt and shame for what had just happened, she wanted to continue to screw
me. What in the hell was I going to do about that? 2/19/99 Al Steiner -----------== Posted via Deja News, The Discussion Network ==----------
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