Sexual Healing – Part Eight

Introduction:
Connie giggled — something she seldom did — as they stepped off the ferry and started walking arm-in-arm toward the parking lot.
“Okay, wife,” Jerry said. “Explain the mirth.”
“You were so cute at dinner, stalling and stalling and stalling –really, honey, you’d think you were condemned to some gruesome fate.”
“I was not stalling.” He said it with a straight face, but she walked the next few steps turned sideways, staring up at him. Finally he cracked the smile.
“‘I was not stalling,'” she said gravely, mimicking him. “Oh, no, of course not. You always have three cups of coffee and two deserts after dinner at Four Seasons.” They reached the parking lot and began wending their way through the cars.
“I was just trying to prolong a lovely moment. This is a special occasion, you know.”
She burst out with a loud guffaw.
“And I thought it would be, you know, nice to walk past my old apartment, where we first did it.”
Connie’s laughter rebounded, peals of amusement that rang out in the chilly night. Jerry stopped and waited till she had calmed down and caught her breath.
“Honey, it’s 43 degrees. We could have taken a cab instead of walking — and very slowly, I might add — 18 blocks. And ‘nice’? You mean ‘romantic,’ don’t you? Because it was romantic.”
“Yeah, well, I guess so. Kind of.”
She shook her head and suddenly threw herself on him, clinging to him with her arms around his neck. “I love you so much, Gerald.”
“I love you with all of me, Veronica.” He kissed her, his arms easily holding her lithe, small frame. The kiss began sweetly and then got a lot more passionate.
Someone cleared his throat and said, “Okay you kids…” A flashlight winked on. Jerry lowered her and they turned to the cop.
“Sorry about that,” Jerry said. “The term ‘parking lot’ triggers a conditioned reflex in us.”
“And thanks for the ‘you kids’!” Connie added.
The cop walked off, shaking his head and softly chuckling. Holding hands, Jerry and Connie walked slowly to the car and climbed in. Jerry tossed his coat into the backseat and they buckled up.
“Now you’re trying to get me arrested,” Jerry teased as he started the engine.
“For what? Making out with your wife on your anniversary?”
He shifted into gear. “I was thinking more of Rampant Horniness, First Degree, and Consorting With a Known Sex Object.” Connie leaned over. “And what are you doing?”
“Access to my favorite sex object.” She unzipped his trousers and began working his rapidly stiffening cock out of his briefs.
“Hey, you definitely are going to get me busted for lewdness or indecent exposure.”
“Can’t leave you exposed, I guess,” she agreed — and began stuffing as much of his cock into her mouth as she could manage.
Jerry groaned as his wife’s head bobbed between his abdomen and the steering while. Connie sucked happily, her mouth filled with his expanding meat and her tongue busily exploring all the wonderfully familiar nooks and veins she had come to know and love. She was moist under her evening dress. She’d suddenly gotten the impulse to suck her husband’s cock right there, in the restaurant, a la “Shampoo.” For some reason she could not fathom, the urge, the craving, was just there and undeniable. She’d squirmed and fidgeted during the main course, the sorbet, the deserts and coffees. She’d fairly trembled with the urge walking to and then past his old apartment and she’d been unable to sit still during the short ferry ride across the Hudson. The heat and solidity of his pulsing cockhead was exactly what she’d salivated for all evening.
She didn’t want him to cum — not yet — and she knew him so well she was able to keep him just…below…the threshold for the fifteen minutes it took to drive to their home.
But when the car was in the driveway, the lights and engine off, the gear in PARK, Connie turned her head sideways in his lap and murmured, “Come on, honey — gimme gimme gimme GIMME!” She jammed her face back over his cock, taking him to the back of her throat. She sucked hard and slow and let her tongue wriggle against the underside of his big cock. She felt him twitch and she moaned pitifully.
That did it. Jerry let out a soft whimper of surrender and his dick erupted. Connie squirmed and pulled her head back, gulping noisily and sucking just the glans and a little bit of the massive shaft. He spasmed again and this time he flooded her mouth with his hot, beloved semen. She sucked sloppily, knowing how much that aroused him and bobbed her head slightly. His caress on her cheek sent a shiver of love and lust through her. She moaned again as a third geyser shot into her mouth, and began moving her head up and down hungrily, coaxing a fourth, fifth and sixth welcome splattering.
She licked and sucked his dick clean before relinquishing it, then gently stuffed the half-hard length of him back into his trousers. She looked up and saw Jerry leaning his head back to rest on the neck support of the seat. He tilted his face forward and pulled her mouth to his, kissing her hard and sticking his tongue into her mouth. She loved feeling him swirling his tongue around in the mixture of her saliva and the residue of his sperm.
“Baby, you make me so hot!” she breathed into his mouth. “I wanted to do that right after the pate.”
He grinned. “I know. I can tell when that’s what you’re craving. You get this particular look on your face and start getting very, very restless.”
“Oh?”
“And you only get the urge when we’re someplace where it is absolutely impossible — or unwise — to indulge it.”
“Remember ‘Shampoo’?”
“Do I remind you of Warren Beatty?”
“Yccch. What I liked was the brazenness of it. Not to mention Julie Christie. Or was it Goldie Hawn? Whichever. Which reminds me. Let’s go in the house.”
He sighed in resignation. “You’re sure about this? No last-minute doubts?”
She kissed him quickly on the lips. “Let’s get inside.”
“O-kaaaay.” They disentangled and exited the car, then stood in the driveway for a moment, looking at each other across the roof of the car. Jerry cleared his throat. “Bravely go I forth to meet my fate.”
“Your fate.” She snorted. “I’ll try to make it as painless as possible.”
He grinned at her and they entered their home. The only light was in the kitchen, which Connie had switched on before they’d left. “Hmmmm. Looks like your fate hasn’t arrived yet,” she said, removing her coat. Jerry took hers and hung it next to his in the foyer closet. Connie was wearing her drop-dead jet-black Armani sheath, the one with the spaghetti straps across her shoulders. It molded itself to her every lovely curve. She could feel her husband’s gaze on her as she walked gracefully into the kitchen, the high heels stretching her legs, her pert ass twitching under the fabric.
Look and lust, honey, she was thinking. You’re going to need all the lust you can muster before the night is over. And as she thought of what the night had in store for both of them, her nipples hardened and crinkled under the dress and her cunt renewed its moistening. She drew a tumbler of water from the faucet of the filter — New Jersey’s water was officially safe, but the taste was only slightly better than that of the residual semen she was rinsing from the roof of her mouth.
“Want me to bring you something?” she called.
“Some juice?”
She drew a second tumbler of water for herself and poured Jerry a tall glass of his grapefruit juice. She returned to find him sitting stiffly in his favorite chair, a leather recliner half-facing the fireplace. When Jerry was nervous, he always became very still.
Connie handed him the glass. “Fair enough — you already gave me my juice.” She licked her lips for emphasis. He showed little sign of seeing the gesture or hearing the remark.
She folded easily to her knees beside him and rested her arms on his thigh. “Hey — loosen up, honey.”
He cranked his head around to look at her, a machine-like motion. “I’m just afraid — ” He clamped his lips.
“Afraid of what?”
He was silent for a long minute before blurting, “You’ve been telling this woman what a stud you’ve married and she’s all worked up for this and so are you and, well, I just don’t know what I’ll do if I start feeling left out or can’t — can’t — you know: perform.”
She’d considered the possibility that this would come up, so to speak. An introverted man by nature, she’d known that if the worry was really in his mind, he wouldn’t be able to tell her till the last minute. Connie had given this situation thought and had a Plan.
She held his gaze for a moment. “Honey, I can still call Kimberly and cancel this. I don’t — ” She held up one finger, shushing his protest. “I do not want this to become a problem for us. And if you really believe you might find it that much of a worry, I will gladly trade this for us, every time — and never regret it one iota.”
“But — ”
Again she shushed him. “But first, before you decide, I want to show you how much confidence I have in you and how much you should have in you. Deal?”
“But — ”
She glanced at the clock. “This won’t take long. There’s plenty of time. Indulge me?”
He drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. And nodded.
She ducked her head down and graced his thigh with her teeth through his trousers.
“First, will you please get rid of that damn jacket and tie?”
He stood as she leaned back. He began unknotting the tie as he turned toward the stairs and the closet set in the wall beneath the steps.
“No — just toss them onto the couch.”
He shrugged and quickly complied, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt for good measure.
“Isn’t that more comfortable?” she teased, knowing how much he hated having to wear them. She rolled smoothly to her knees. “What do you like best about me?”
That got a genuine smile from him. They’d had this exchange the first night and on many nights since. It was almost a script, but the ritual of the dialogue was a comfortably exciting thing that they enjoyed.
“I like everything about you best!” he answered. Of course.
“That’s sweet, but you know what I mean,” she cued, getting to her feet with the lithe grace only a dancer could supply.
“What?”
She stood before him, fingers laced and hands in front of her, slowly turning a little to the left, a little to the right. She was a shade over five feet tall and after the night’s big meal, was perhaps up to 97 pounds. Her dark hair and big, brown eyes and fair complexion were perfect for the demands of the sheath dress she was wearing and she knew how much it appealed to him.
“Oh, you know — some guys are tit men, some guys are leg men, some are ass men… You know.”
“Oh, *that*!” he said. “Well, I’m really a tit-leg-ass man, but if I had to pick just one — ”
She nodded, exaggerating the gesture.
“I guess — your butt. You’ve got the cutest, ripest, most delectable peach of an ass I’ve ever seen on a woman of legal age.”
“So you like my tush?”
“First time I saw you in that cheerleader’s outfit, bending and strutting, I said to myself, ‘I have got to grab those buns!’ — ”
“And you did — eventually.” She reached up and pulled one spaghetti strap off her left shoulder. “I have a surprise for you.” The other strap was removed. “Special — for my husband, the ass man.” She reached behind herself and nimbly undid the four hooks-and-eyes. She began squirming sensuously. The sheath began to flow off her, lower and lower. Once it was past the pert thrust of her tits, it slid down the rest of the way in a soft, sussurant swish of fine fabric until it lay in a small heap about her ankles.
She stepped back and out of the circle of discarded evening dress.
“Like?” She raised her hands above her head and slowly turned for him. The flimsy, non-support bra was blue and nearly transparent.
So were the thigh-cut panties.
When she had turned a full 360 degrees, she watched her husband swallow.
“I like,” he said simply, his voice thick. His lovely, petite wife stood before him in her bra, panties and — this was a first, really — garters and stockings.
“That’s new,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “The stockings.”
“Got the idea from Emily.” She’d told him some things about Emily — including her remarkable tongue — but not about what she and Kim had done with Emily.
“Thank her for me.”
She smiled slightly and turned to her right, then executed a majestically smooth bend from the waist. Her knees stayed straight, as did her back and shoulders. She bent lower and lower, until her forearms were wrapped around her calves, her nose was against her knees and her gorgeous little butt was outthrust in all its rounded glory, inside the taut, blue sheen of the panties.
Connie could hear his breathing grow shallow. She watched his fingers twitch, the jerky stretching of his arm. His hand came to rest in a long caress on her ass, his palm almost covering one cheek, his splayed finger lightly pressing the other.
“Step up behind me,” she whispered, voice throaty. “Get close behind me. I want to feel you pressing against me.”
He moved like a man in a dream, coming around behind her. His cock was as hard as a piece of steel, throbbing down his right thigh within his trouser leg. He bent his knees and pressed the stiff, throbbing meat into the shallow crack of her ass. She felt the thickness of his shaft between her ass cheeks, saw the bulge of the pants-covered glans protruding below her crotch.
Her soaked crotch.
He had both hands on her ass now and they wouldn’t stay still. His hands slid around her hips, up to her waist, around to her tummy.
She stood slowly, gracefully, back and legs straight. His hands slid up to her breasts, cupping and caressing them through the thin bra, then squeezing them carefully, finally pinching her hardened nipples and eliciting a soft “Oh!” from her. She let herself lean back into him, the back of her head against his chest, as he savored her lithe charms. She flexed her ass cheeks against his cock, felt his dick surge in response.
She turned within his arms. Her hands went to his waist, quickly undoing belt, waistband and zipper, pushing trousers and briefs down his heavily-muscled thighs. His cock popped out, long and hard and thick. She felt its heat against her bare stomach as she straightened. His fingers were tugging clumsily at the bra, searching for the clasp, fumbling it open.
“I’ve got to have you, honey,” she breathed. “Can’t wait — got to have you inside me right now. Lay down right there, right there…” As she spoke, she fumbled at the buttons of his shirt.
He settled gawkily to the carpet as she shrugged out of the bra. She stepped over him and pushed the now sopping panties down just below her cunt, leaving them about her thighs.
Connie crouched over him, ankles to either side of his hips, knees close together.
“Hold it in place for me!” she hissed. She felt his stiff meat sear her thigh just below the panties, shifted to the side and settled her dripping cunt against her husband’s big prick. She pressed down, trying to force herself onto it. With her thighs close together and her torso tensed in her unbalanced crouch, she was even tighter than usual. She worked her hips from side to side, trying to wedge her cunt onto his big pole.
She finally captured more of the fat, smooth glans between her labia.
“Grab me!” she moaned. “Pull me down!”
His hands slid up her legs to her hips. He held them as if they were a basketball and pressed her down over him.
“YEEE-ESSS!” she screamed as his knob finally penetrated her hungry cunt. “YES!” He pulled her down onto him as he pressed up. She felt his cock — it seemed even larger than usual — boring inexorably up into her cunt, her womb, her stomach, her lungs. She shrieked again and shook as she finally settled her tautly stretched cunt lips against the bony ring at the base of his straining dick. She felt impaled, helpless and totally loved by the man she loved. Her cunt was convulsing over him even before he started jerking her hips up and down over his rampant prick. His cock was smoothing all the little wrinkles and bumps in her cunt, ironing and stretching them and finally testing her limits as he thrust up into her and pulled her down onto him.
Connie tried to hump herself up and down over her husband’s cock, but somehow, she just couldn’t seem to get her coordination. Every time she tensed to lift herself, she was clenching her cunt down on his cock and — BOOM! — she’d be cumming again.
He pulled her down against his chest. His chest hairs scraped her nipples, adding to her arousal. She slobbered on the side of his neck and his shoulder, incoherent sounds of sheer pleasure escaping her lips. Beneath her, Jerry was hunching his hips up at her while his hand, clamped over her small, hard ass, pumped her atop him. It seemed to Connie as if the orgasms never completely stopped, now; they diminished occasionally, but — like ocean waves — never completely faded.
Suddenly, Jerry was rolling her onto her back, then cranking her legs, so slim and limber, up and back — farther — farther — farther, till her calves were almost behind her ears. She felt her quimcontracting on him, shortening.
When he was poised above her, his powerful torso supported on his outstretched arms, she felt as if she were being skewered. Skewer-screwed, she thought. Skewered.
“Skewered,” she mumbled, gasping as he began to sink into her. She felt unbelievably full. She could watch her own abdomen bulge as his fat, hard dick pushed deeper and deeper into her.
“Wazzat?” he gasped.
“Skewer-screwed,” she whispered. “Skewered”
He bottomed out inside her. She thought his knob must be somewhere in the vicinity of her duodenum. Maybe her larynx. Her tummy convulsed as the orgasms began rising through her again.
He pulled back slowly and held himself above her, suspended on hands and toes so the only points of contact were the backs of her thighs against stomach and her filled-to-bursting cunt.
Jerry began jabbing down with his hips, quick, twirling thrusts that screwed his cock into her, pressing all the wonderful little hidey-holes of pleasure in her vagina. Connie was beyond screaming, now; the pleasure had sucked the breath from her. She could do no more than lay back and receive the wonderful poling her husband was giving her — receive and enjoy.
As he rammed his cock in and out of her, he let his legs bend till his knees were resting on the carpet and slowly began straightening. He took her ankles in his hands and pulled them together, then held both slim ankles in one powerful hand. All the time, his strokes never ceased, his big prick driving deep into her recesses, then pulling back, her tight little labia coating his wide girth.
He brought his free hand down to her face, caressing her cheek with his fingertips. Her eyes popped open, wide, and slowly she focused on his face. She saw the lust and hunger there, and the love and tenderness.
“Oh, baby,” she managed to whisper. There was more, but she couldn’t make her mouth work to say it. Later, she vowed silently.
The hand moved lower, to her mouth. She was holding her lower lip between her teeth. She opened her mouth and greedily sucked at his finger, tonguing it as if it were his cock…
…or Kimberly’s nipple…
…before he pulled it free and lightly caressed her stiffened nipple, then tweaked it. She groaned, deep and loud, as yet another orgasm careened through her.
His cock, all the time pistoning in and out and in and out, deeper and farther, stretching and reaming, so goood, so goooood…
“So goooooood,” she moaned.
His hand went lower, over her solar plexus, her belly, her abdomen. It finally paused, fingers splayed and palm flat, just above her pubis.
He smiled and pressed down as he pushed his cock balls’ deep into her soaked cunt. That tiny, magical bundle of nerves in the top wall of her vagina was compressed against the top of his cock.
Connie felt reality fading as her eyes rolled up and just the whites showed. It was as if all sensation were draining from her body to the focal point of her cunt, to that one spot in her cunt — and then the pleasure exploded outward, suffusing her, filling her to exploding, saturating her nerves, her skin, then growing more and more intense until she was sure she’d burst into orgasmic flame and then:
“AHHHHHHHH!”
Her cry shattered the panting quiet as the most intense orgasm of her experience burst through her entire being. She couldn’t remember the time before its beginning, couldn’t imagine the time after its end; it was a forever orgasm, unending and a time unto itself. And it seemed perpetual, consuming, possessing. She came and came and came, harder and harder, dimly aware of the components: his big cock throbbing inside her, his hand holding her ankles, his hand pressing her abdomen, her clitoris quivering, her nipples responding to molecule of air.
And then she became aware of his prick motionless inside her. No, not motionless — no longer plunging, but not motionless. It was throbbing, spasming. She could feel his balls, tight and heavy against her upturned little ass, jerking. She could feel his hot semen spraying and splashing inside her, feel her cunt stretching with each swelling and explosion. She could feel him cumming inside her cumming cunt and it all went higher and brighter until she had become a single, quivering nerve, a gigantic clitoris — cumming.
He finally sagged above her and slowly, almost gracefully, rolled her into his arms as he slid onto his back, panting like a marathon runner. His shriveling prick was still trapped in the yet-spasming slickness of her cunt and she let herself coat his flesh with hers as she remembered that vow.
“My darling,” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. “My darling, “You’re the only one I’ll ever need. I may want others, from time to time, but you’re the only one I’ll ever need, and I’ll always need you.”
He kissed the her forehead. “I love you so much, Veronica.”
She kissed his shoulder. “I love you, Gerald.”
“I’ve never seen you cum that hard or that long.”
She shivered. Even the imperfect memory was nearly enough to make her cum again. “I’ve never cum that hard in my life. Or that long.”
“I feel like you got all the moisture in my body.” He chuckled, a quiet, throaty rumble. “I think you’ve done me in. I’m afraid your friend is going to be disappointed.”
She remembered her plan, abruptly. “No, she won’t. If Kimberly isn’t enough to turn you on, and I’m not, and if the two of us together aren’t, then I know something that’s guaranteed to put some more lead in your pencil.”
“Better be high-octane lead.”
She tightened her cunt on him. He grunted.
“It will be.” She snuggled closer “Can you see the clock?”
She felt him shift. “Nine-fifty-five.”
She relaxed even more. “Good. Let’s just stay like this for a few minutes. We have time for some snuggling and a shower.”
“Oh?”
“Trust me.”
He began humming the theme from “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”
“You’re silly,” she accused.
“You’re sexy.”
She hummed against his shoulder and let herself relax in the cradle of his arms. Just a few minutes, she told herself…
…”Huh?”
“You dozed off. Ten after ten.”
Connie pulled herself up on him, slowly disconnecting his cock from her cunt. It slurped out of her just as her lips reached his. They kissed lightly for a moment, then passionately, then lightly again before she rolled off him. She pulled her knees up under herself, then stood. She could feel his juice and hers seeping from between her cunt lips. She felt unbelievably sexy looking down at the long, hard-muscled length of him — sexy, and fabulously lucky. She couldn’t dare even hope that he felt the same way about her, but he did; her heart knew it.
“Shower — me first!” she said, feeling suddenly childish. She grinned and hurried up the stairs, leaving him to gather their clothes.
Connie was just stepping under the hot spray — she’d douched first; had to be fresh and tasty! — when Jerry stuck his head into the shower. “Need some help?” He leered excessively.
“And you claimed you couldn’t get it up again!”
“Well, it’s as limp as a washrag, so I figured — ”
She held her palms so the spray glanced off her hands at his face. He retreated hastily. Connie finished her shower and toweled off. She stepped into the bedroom wearing the big bath towel like an Island Girl and found her husband carefully tucking in the bedspread. He was wearing his yellow, terry-cloth robe. The clock said 10:23. Kim was due between 10:30 and 10:45.
“Your turn.” She jerked her thumb at the door to the bathroom.
He nodded, expression somber — but not unhappy. As he was walking past her, she stopped him with a hand on his forearm. “Tell me what you feel?”
“I love you and I’m a little uneasy about this…but — okay, I guess. I know I can’t get off again for a few hours.”
She stopped the impulse to smile or speak.
“So I feel like, well, I’m going to see my lover have a wonderful time with a beautiful woman, and that sounds fine. So — okay. But I wonder what I should wear.”
She tugged the lapel of the robe. “This is just fine.”
“Seriously.”
She did smile, now. “Your favorite jeans and a sweatshirt, okay? Just — relaxed, right?”
“Right.”
She stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly. “Go shower.”
Connie waited till she heard the shower running, then quickly slipped into her purple camisole, matching bikini panties and negligee. She walked barefoot downstairs to the living room and quickly put the tape into the VCR. The timer said 10:32. She was just cinching the sash of the negligee when the doorbell rang.
Smiling confidently, hearing the sounds of the shower where her wonderful husband was lathering herself, Connie opened the front door and welcomed Kimberly…
….and Emily.

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