Grumbling to himself he drove to Maxwell. When he wheeled into his driveway, he thought at first all the lights were out. Maybe Mary Beth wasn't at home. The thought didn't exactly displease him. It would be great to make it with Sis again. He got out of the car and went in.
Mary Beth was seated in a deep easy-chair, manicuring her fingernails. The floor lamp illuminating her was the only light in the spacious living room.
"Honey!" She sprang up and ran to him, raising her arms as she came.
"Hello, sweetheart," he said, feeling the old surge of desire in spite of the knowledge that it would come to nothing. Her arms were about his neck and she was murmuring against his throat. Then she was kissing him, her soft wide lips moving sensually over his mouth while her hands played at his neck and hr his hair. His cock twitched hopefully.
"Oh, I'm so glad to see you again, darling." She covered his mouth again and the tip of her tongue flicked briefly at his lips.
Damn! he thought. What's happening? Then he became aware of what his hands had already discovered. He'd noticed when he came in and she ran to him that she was wearing the cute little shortie housecoat that someone had given her as a wedding gift. Now he realized that she didn't have on a bra underneath the housecoat. In fact, it felt like she didn't have on anything.
I don't believe it, he told himself. People don't do a switch just like that. Still, he recalled the sultry look and all the sexy gestures Mary Beth had always used ever since he'd known her. When she turned out to be so frigid, he couldn't believe that, either.
Women! He shrugged, but the soft arms about his neck held him tight, and he quit wondering.
Finally she pulled away, breathing fast, and looked up at him with a happy smile on her lips.
"Have you had supper yet, honey?"
"Yeah. I ate on the road. What time is it, anyway?"
"It's after nine. I tell you what, you go into the kitchen and make you a tall mint julep – and a small one for me. I'm going into the bedroom for a shower before bed. Come on in after a while." She gave him a long, inviting look and tipped her tongue across her lips. "Later," she breathed, and turned away.
Afraid to get his hopes up, Bobby Lee went into the kitchen and got out a jug of the family bourbon and set to work creating a mint julep. Halfway through his task, he stopped suddenly, a puzzled look on his face. And a small one for me, she'd said. Now what the hell? Mary Beth had never been known to do more than take a sip of a Tom Collins or some other weak-kneed drink. He shook his head and got down another glass, but a tall one, not a short one. Maybe a stiff jolt of real likker would – thaw her out.
He sat on a tall stool in the kitchen and sipped his drink. There was no need to rush. Mary Beth was slow in the bathroom, and he had no idea how long she'd be in there. Probably putting on a set of armor-plated pajamas or something, he thought bitterly. He nursed his drink and recalled fondly the redhead he'd connected with in Atlanta.
After a while he glanced at the wall clock and saw that he had been moping over his drink for twenty minutes or more. Quickly he topped off his drink from the jug and added a touch to Mary Beth's. Then he went down the short hall to the big master bedroom.
He nearly dropped the chilled glasses in his hands. Tall white candles flickered in silver candlesticks on the vanity table, reflected in the immense mirror that covered much of the wall on that side. But the candles were not what got him.
Mary Beth was lying like a voluptuous cat in the middle of the king-size bed, propped on several pillows. She wasn't wearing pajamas, armor-plated or any other kind. She was wearing a fingertip nightie of black nylon, though it was hard to tell the color for it was so sheer.
"Wow!" he exclaimed. "I like that, honey!"
Her smile was even more warm and inviting. "What kept you so long?" Her voice had a throaty quality he'd never noticed before.
He hurried to the bed and handed her a drink, noticing as he bent toward her that even in the weak light of the candles he could see her purple-grape nipples plainly, thrusting against the gossamer fabric. His eyes dropped to her hips, but by chance or by skillful distribution of her succulent body, a fold of the garment covered her loins, and he couldn't tell if she had on panties or not.
She took the drink and said, "Why don't you get comfy, Bobby Lee? You look all hot and stuffy in those clothes."
He had had enough of the powerful moonshine drink before coming into the bedroom that he no longer hesitated, debating whether this was for real or not. Likker and sex. She had screamed against them on their wedding night. Right now she seemed to experience no objections, for her lips were puckering at the rim of her glass and she was sipping it with gusto.
He set his glass on the bedside table and went to his dresser and started taking off his shirt. Then his shoes and socks. He glanced at her once, but the soft smile only encouraged him and he jerked off his trousers. Wearing just his undershorts he went back to the bed.
Lazily, Mary Beth leaned across the pillows and set her glass on the table beside him, then held up her arms. "Did you miss me, honey?"
He practically threw himself on her and again her soft lips practiced their caressing movements across his while her arms played up and down his bare shoulders and back. He felt his cock shoving frantically against the restraint of his shorts as it tried to rise. Tentatively he slid one hand downward and cupped it over her spongy tit, holding it still for a moment to test her reaction.
Her only response was a little sigh, and again the tip of her tongue probed at his lips. He squeezed down on the exciting flesh, feeling the hardened nipple pressing into his palm. His cock throbbed in its cramped position.
"Can we have another swallow of your delicious drink, lover?" she said huskily.
"Hunh? Oh, yeah. Yeah." He braced himself up and rolled to the side of the bed and reached for the drinks, embarrassed by his bulging shorts. He tried to squirm about so the bulge wouldn't show, but he only succeeded in letting the rampaging pole slip through the opening in the front of his shorts. It reared up majestically, big-headed and lusty.
"My!" Mary Beth exclaimed, a thrill of excitement making her voice quaver. "You look all hot and bothered, Bobby Lee!"
The drink had bolstered his courage. "You bet your sweet ass I am," he growled. He tipped his glass and took another long swallow, then set the glass back on the table. His greenish-blue eyes gleamed hotly in the subdued lights. He laid his hand on her thigh and slid it upward until he rippled under the hem of the nightie. Now he could see she had on nothing under it. His hand glided on up over the swell of her hip, then around to caress the curve of her asscheek.
"Honey, you'll make me spill my drink if you're not careful," she said softly. There was no bitchiness, no puritanical waspishness in her warning. In fact, it was the old come-hither personality of Mary Beth, magnified infinitely.
He slid his hand on around the big curve and trailed his fingers down the valley separating the two mounds, on down until he touched the lower fringe of her cunt bush. "Oh, honey," she breathed. "You'd better put this drink on the table. I'm afraid I'll drop it."
Impatiently he grabbed the glass from her hand and shoved it toward the table, and for a fleeting moment Mary Beth felt a touch of panic, the same as when he had plunged into her unready body before.
"Please, Bobby Lee," she pleaded, "go easy with me."
He remembered that she had been cherry, after all, no matter how passionate she had looked – and looked right now.
"Sure sweetheart," he said, instead of going for her pussy again, he put his arms about her and kissed her, enjoying the growing ardor of her lips and the exciting strangeness of her tongue practicing its art on him. In seconds she was back at the same pitch, panting and eager, her warm breath brushing quickly across his cheeks as they continued to kiss.