Too late, she tried to draw back. She tried to escape the blasts she knew were coming. But Stan had anticipated that. They always did that the first time. They always tried to escape having their mouths and bellies filled with his cum. But he never let them. He knew, once they had tasted cum they would come back for it, time after time. His thick fluid was like nectar to them. This mature broad was no different from the young little cunts he usually indoctrinated.
He rammed his ready-to-erupt cock deep into Sue's mouth, and held her head and drove against her with his hips.
Sue's eyes bugged with horror, but she was helplessly trapped by his ruthless grip on her hair. She felt a tremor run the length of his cock, and suddenly her mouth was flooded with the taste and scent of semen. Her head was swimming in the stench. Thick, gooey fluid spurted into her mouth, poured down her throat in cummy waves.
And her own body reacted like a fire that has had gasoline thrown on it. Flames roared through her, flames of a stupendous orgasm. Her thighs slammed shut on the hand in her pussy, and her vagina contracted and pulsed around the fingers she had crammed deep into it. Every fiber of her body was blazing with her coming as she took what felt like gallons of steaming semen down her throat and into her stomach.
"Mmmmrrrggghhh," she gurgled around the prick jammed into her throat. She wrapped one arm around Stan's muscular, hairy thighs and hauled him tight against her passion-twisted body.
She swallowed, and swallowed and swallowed, ingesting the copious waves of cum and saliva, and sucked and sucked to draw the last lingering dribbles of fluid from the cock in her mouth.
Stan ached with the delicious ache of drained balls. His head tipped back, he savored the exquisite agony of total sexual satisfaction. He loved having the last of his semen actually sucked out of his cock. Then he let go of the woman kneeling in front of him.
Sue spat the shrinking prick out of her mouth, and leaned weakly against the lifeguard. She still had her arm wrapped around his legs, or otherwise she probably would have fallen flat on her face. Her stomach burned with its load of cum, and her mouth and nose were still engulfed in the clinging taste and smell of semen. Her body was racked with ferocious shivers that she fought to control but couldn't.
At last she shoved away from Stan, hauled herself up and collapsed wearily on the bench at the back of the cubicle. She slumped, her arms on her knees, her head hanging. Her legs were sprawled open vulgarly as she stared at the floor. A drop of spit and cum spattered to the floor from her chin, forming a thick starburst spot in front of her eyes.
Insolently, Stan took a towel off one of the hooks and used it to wipe the saliva and cum off his prick and dry his black pubic bush. Then he tossed the towel aside.
"Thanks," he snorted as he picked up his jock strap.
Sue watched dully as he fucked his flaccid tool into the cup of his supporter. "Thanks?" she repeated.
"For the blow job," he explained.
"Bastard. Get out of here."
"Sure," Stan agreed easily, pulling on his swim suit.
"Don't you ever bother me again," she warned, her tone deadly.
"See you around the pool, Mrs. Anderson," he replied, letting himself out.
When he was gone, Sue reached blindly for a towel. Just as she was about to wipe her face, she smelled his semen on it. Furious, she hurled it against the wall. Then she put her face, still cum and saliva sticky, into her hands. She wanted to cry, but couldn't. She was too sick and drained.
"God, Jerry, what could I do?" she wailed softly. "What could I do?"
Then she felt a twinge of anger. If Jerry had been performing his "husbandly duties" maybe she wouldn't have enjoyed the vile act with Stan so damn much.
Wrapping herself in a towel, she went to take a second shower.
CHAPTER FIVE
For the first time in his life, Jerry had called in sick when he wasn't physically ill. And he had lied to Sue. That lie, the first blatant falsehood he had ever told her, for some reason lay as heavy on his soul as his infidelities. He had told Sue he was taking the day off because things were slack at the office. He had told Diane that he had the flu.
He was sick, he decided, sick in the head.
Mechanically, he called, "Ready about!" to Cherry Kelly, then: "Hard a-lee!" as he put the tiller over. He hardly saw the girl as she scampered from one side of the boat to the other, a flailing windmill of tanned arms and legs. Then she tightened the jib sheet for the opposite tack.
The unseasonably warm weather was still holding. Jerry was trying to pick his brain apart as he adjusted the main sheet.
Now, clear of the harbor with its clutter of boats and buoys, Jerry was free to concentrate on his problems. Why, after all these years of marriage, had he suddenly started cheating on Sue? Why would any man in his right mind want to cheat on her? Did he, in fact, want to cheat on her? Or was it something beyond his control?
Jerry shook his head, letting the bow of the boat fall off the wind slightly without even thinking about it. Jerry did not believe in being "out of control" of anything, himself included. He had always believed he controlled his actions and his destiny. He would not have been so successful if he had believed otherwise.
Then why was he cheating on Sue? God knew, she was enough woman for ten men. She was built like a brick shithouse. She was beautiful, in face, body and spirit. She was faithful to him. She had borne his children. By any standard he could think of, she was a desirable woman.
But he had not felt any physical desire for her in months. Why not? Obviously, he was not impotent. Obviously, he had not lost his sex drive.
Jerry felt Cherry's innocent gray eyes on him and grinned reassuringly at her. She was a cherub, with tousled, unruly sandy hair, a freckled and peeling nose, and a wide, innocent, bright smile. She loved the water and sailing and life with the total innocence of youth. Jerry felt safe from assault from her, unlike the way he would have felt had Cindy Peters been crewing for him. But of course, Cindy had seemed innocent and sweet too, until she had seduced him.
And, Jerry reflected, Cindy had seduced him with an ease that was frightening. So had Diane for that matter.
But why? That was the real question. What had suddenly made him such easy prey for them? And why was he not interested in Sue?
"Where we headed, Cap'n?" Cherry asked, breaking his train of thought.
Jerry surveyed the empty sound before looking at her. "Doesn't make much difference to me," he answered. He noticed she had unfastened the strap of her suit and that the top of it was revealing a startling expanse of her upper chest. Even though she had little in the way of breasts, he found something about her display arousing.
"How about Execution Rocks?" Cherry asked, pointing.
Jerry swore silently at himself. When she had stretched her arm out to point toward Execution Rocks, still another fraction of an inch of her tit had been revealed. It was a soft shy mound that a weightlifter's pectoral muscle would have put to shame. Only it was breast, not muscle, that's what made the difference.
He wrenched his mind back to her question. "That's pretty far," he pointed out. "Think the breeze will hold?" Suddenly he did not want to be becalmed with her.
Cherry surveyed the sky and water with a practiced eye, reached up and scratched her head, tousling her hair. The motion made the top of her suit slip still lower. Without seeming to think about it, she tugged it back up. "Might hold, might not. Let's give it a try anyway."
Jerry agreed, against his better judgment, then wondered why he had. He was the skipper; he didn't have to take his crews suggestions. Somehow, he knew the wind was not going to hold. He knew they'd be stranded in the middle of the sound.