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The cub scout mother - sex story


The cub scout mother



The late afternoon sun was low and sinking fast behind the shopping center, leaving a spray of glowing color in streaks across the luminous sky. Bette Jean lagged behind the hurrying bag boy and turned to look at the coral streaks. Brilliant wavy flags billowing across the sky like gossamer silk. She stood for a moment, warmed by the color despite the nip in the air. At last she turned and followed obediently to the rear of the pale blue station wagon where the boy was loading her groceries.

"There you are, Mrs. Lyons," he said panting, then slammed the rear door and turned to her grinning. "All loaded up and ready to go."

"Thank you so much." Bette Jean pressed a coin into his hard young palm. The tall youth blushed in confusion and tried to put the money back in her hand.

"Aw... no... you don't have to do that. It's a pleasure to load your groceries and stuff... I mean... well... I like doing it for you..."

Bette Jean insisted and in the fumbling he held her hand far too long, blushing and embarrassed. She felt a tiny little thrill chase up her forearm from the contact and then she too was embarrassed. Oh dear. The boy wasn't much older than her son, Gary. A stab of fear shot through her then. Would Gary start acting like men always acted around women? He was sixteen now but she didn't want him to start acting like a snorting bull in a china shop. "Thank you again... sorry to be so much trouble..." Bette Jean almost whispered in confusion and slid into the driver's seat quickly, slamming the door behind her. The bag boy grinned and waved, wheeling the cart back toward the supermarket.

Driving home Bette Jean tried to sort her thoughts. It had been a difficult day. The doctor still hadn't been too sure about her symptoms. Mostly he'd patted her and reassured her... and now that she thought about it, grinned at her just the way that grocery boy had done. But then men had always grinned at her fatuously ever since she was fourteen. If he had a few beers too many, even Lester, her own husband, grinned at her that way.

It had something to do with her being small and having curling chestnut hair and large innocent blue eyes. Every male in sight thought he had to protect her. Well, the only thing she wanted protection from now was male attention. It was time they left her alone. Certainly it was past time for Lester to leave her alone.

At his age and hers... with the children all gone from home now except Gary... it was almost indecent the way Lester wouldn't leave her alone. Though she couldn't prove it, Bette Jean thought that surely must have something to do with all her headaches and fatigue lately. Couldn't Lester see that she was too old for all that nonsense? At forty after four children she was just plain tired of sex. It was dull and useless and ridiculous.

Bette Jean shook her chestnut curls out of her eyes and her mouth straightened in a line of determination. The doctor hadn't actually said she was not to sleep with Lester... but he had asked a lot of questions about her sex life... wanting to know how often and if she had orgasms... and he had said she was not to overdo. Well, that was enough. She'd been trying for a long time to find a way to have separate bedrooms. Not that she wanted to hurt Lester's feelings but she had her health to think of too. Certainly he couldn't willingly want her to get worse.

By the time she'd put all the groceries away and folded the brown paper bags neatly out of sight, Bette Jean was exhausted. It was familiar exhaustion she experienced often these days and had gone to several doctors about. They hadn't actually laughed at her but they hadn't taken her problem seriously either. At least Dr. Madson had given her those pills and told her not to work so hard. He was better than the rest of those quacks. They just didn't understand female problems. How could they? They'd never been females.

Bette Jean sat down for a minute at the shiny white Formica table. She just had to get her breath. And there was still dinner to think about. Wearily she pushed the curls up off her collar. Gary wasn't home yet either and then she remembered. Lester had given him permission over her protests to spend the night with Jimmy Herter. So there'd be only the two of them for dinner tonight.

She fought down a little shiver, knowing from experience that Lester never failed to get amorous when Gary was out of the house... not that Gary's presence really stopped him. Sometimes she just lay there dying of embarrassment when Lester was venting his animal passions on her helpless body, knowing that their son Gary could be lying awake listening and maybe hearing every sound through the thin walls. A four-bedroom, housing-development house was not made for privacy.

Still it was a nice house. She looked around appreciatively. The new wall-to-wall carpeting made it look even larger, the soft celery green pushing the walls further apart. Lester was a good provider and she should be ashamed of herself for not appreciating him more.

But with her head beginning to ache and this awful fatigue settling on her like a plague, she didn't feel very appreciative. She wondered what mischief Gary might get into at the Herter boy's house. Gary was such a good boy most of the time, but he did need handling. He was shy and sensitive like her. You'd never even know he was Lester's child except when he flew into those unpredictable rages now and again.

Bette Jean forced herself to get up and change her clothes before starting dinner. It wouldn't do any good to get her new beige suit dirty making dinner. She hung it up carefully in the bedroom closet and started automatically to put on her old blue wraparound... but a chance glance at herself in the mirror stopped her.

It seemed a shame to cover herself with that old thing. For a stolen moment she allowed herself to look at her reflection. She did look younger than she was. The face smooth and unlined and youthful. Her skin was still flawless and creamy, the chestnut hair curling softly around her pretty face, the blue eyes wide and innocent, framed with thick lashes. Even after four children her body looked exactly the same as it had when Lester was courting her except that her breasts were even fuller. They almost spilled out of the pale, nude-colored brassiere but her waist was still very tiny and her hips trimly curved, her legs slender and shapely. She did look young and pretty and at her age she should be grateful, but looks had never brought her anything but lecherous glances, Lester's awful pawing and lusting and four children in almost as many years. She'd raised them and nursed them and now they were all gone except Gary. Damn it. It was time she had some peace, some time for herself, maybe even some night courses to keep her occupied.

She turned back to the closet and fingered the clothes. The habit of wearing slacks around the house had never appealed to her. Finally she settled on a pink flowered cotton blouse and skirt. At least it was permanent press so it could be washed if something spilled on it. If she was going to convince Lester of anything she'd have to look halfway presentable. Bette Jean cinched a wide pink leather belt around her tiny waist and went back to the kitchen.

As she bent to peer into the refrigerator to check the leftovers she felt the uncomfortable clamminess of her panties. She straightened and shivered delicately. Those awful examinations at the doctor's always left her feeling unclean. That terrible jelly they used when they had to examine a woman inside. Some of it always oozed out and dampened your panties. Bette Jean went back to the bedroom. Holding her skirt up she shed the dampened panty hose and underpants, washed herself thoroughly and slid on clean white panties.

The enameled clock over the oven stated unemotionally that it was five o'clock. Lester would be home soon and still nothing even started for dinner. Bette Jean flew. The pork chops. Yes, they would do. Easy, and Lester liked them.

Just as she was sliding the chops into the oven along with a pan of sweet potatoes and a cottage pudding, Bette Jean heard Lester's truck lumber into the driveway. Suddenly her heart was pounding violently. No. She mustn't get panicky now. He would bellow but he'd just have to get used to the idea that she wasn't going to put up with his lust any longer. Her health was endangered. She was sure of it. Why her heart was almost pounding out of her breast right now and she felt faint and queasy.

Lester Lyons climbed wearily from the truck. Hell, he guessed he was getting old. Just didn't seem to have the old snap somehow. He went into the utility room, sat down on the little bench and untied his boots. Bette Jean gave him hell if he walked on her clean kitchen floor in his boots. He took them off and dropped them.

He looked down at his big sock-covered feet for a moment. Lord he was tired. Boiler making was hard work, there was no doubt about that, but it never used to bother him. Lately he was tired all the time. Shit. He was beginning to sound like Bette Jean. She complained all the time lately, kept buying bottles of this and that, running to doctors all the time.

Lester rose and stretched. God damn it, there wasn't anything wrong with Bette Jean and there wasn't anything wrong with him. They just weren't getting enough fucking. He frowned, trying to remember just how long it had been since he'd gotten to her. Hell, must be at least three weeks or more. That God-damned woman could think up more excuses. Her head ached, she wasn't feeling well, his hands were too dirty. Hell. He looked down at his hands now. They were hard and grimy and callused.

Hell, he'd just take a shower before he went on in. Quickly, Lester shed his dirty work clothes. That's why he'd put the shower in the utility room anyway. He stepped into the hot spray and let the water course over his tired body. Soaping up and scrubbing he began to feel better.

Gary was over at the Herter boy's, so there was going to be no God damned excuse tonight. Christ. He was so horny the hot water and the feel of his own hands washing his cock made it jump a little in anticipation.

Bette Jean could hear the shower running out in the utility room. Lester was good about not tracking up her spotless kitchen floor. She set the table in the kitchen and put the coffee maker on so it would be all ready. Things had to look nicer than usual. Lester grumbled when she made him pick up but secretly she knew he liked the way she kept the house all shining for him.

A bowl of marigolds on the white table looked just right with the gold place mats. She adjusted the knives and forks slightly and stood back, pursing her full lips. Now what had she forgotten. Oh, of course. Lester liked homemade applesauce with his pork chops.

She stirred a lump of butter into the pan. Fortunately she'd made some yesterday that only needed to be warmed with some butter. Turning the fire very low, she adjusted the lid and wiped her hands on her apron. Abruptly she heard the shower cut off and a nerve jumped in her stomach. She could see in her mind's eye Lester's hard body, still lean and muscular at 40, hairy and masculine. She stared down at the stove and tried to calm herself. Just the thought that Lester might touch her these days was enough to get her jumpy and nervous. That, if no other reason, was enough to insist on separate bedrooms. It wasn't as if they were kids anymore. Even as kids when they were married, she'd never really cared anything about it. It was Lester.

At first she hadn't thought she could stand it. Aunt Dee had tried to make her understand and help her but Uncle Alf had made it clear that she couldn't come back home to live. He'd sided with Lester and said she was a married woman and she'd have to act like a married woman. So she made the best of it. A few years later, there was Bette Jean's baby sister, and there'd never been any money. The folks killed in that car accident leaving her a baby sister. It still embarrassed her that her sister was younger than three of her children. Aunt Dee and Uncle Alf had been so good to take the baby since Bette Jean had her own little ones to care for. Lester had been a miracle. Even offered to adopt the baby, but Uncle Alf and Aunt Dee had solved the family problem. Wanda was still with the folks, the aging aunt and uncle who'd been so generous.

"Hi honey... what's for dinner?"

Bette Jean whirled guiltily and tried to smile. The smile froze on her face at the sight of Lester, clean and shining, his grin crooked and familiar, dark hair combed, naked except for a bath towel twisted around his lean waist. He was standing in the kitchen, like that, grinning. "There won't be anything if you don't get some clothes on Lester Lyons! Honestly! Suppose the neighbors just happened to glance over this way! They could see you right through the kitchen window!" Bette Jean burst out nervously.

"Well, that's sure as hell easy to fix if that's what's worrying you." He went over to the window and jerked the shade down, drawing the crisp curtains over that. "Now." He turned, grabbing Bette Jean's hand and pulled her to him.

"Oh, Lester. Honestly!"

"Yeah... honestly, I need a kiss and a little more when I get home tired."

Bette Jean fought the sudden clenching of her stomach as he bent and caught her lips. She tried to wrench away the moment his lips touched hers but he strained her to his hairy chest, grinding his lips into hers. She could feel his hard white teeth beneath the flesh bruising her mouth, his big hands seeking her buttocks, pushing her belly right into the bulge of his thing under the towel.

This wasn't the way she'd planned things at all! Why did Lester have to continue to act like an old goat? Her head was really aching now and she pushed futilely against his nakedness. He was as hard and demanding and male as always. What was worse, his nakedness was sending unexpected little thrills chasing under the surface of her skin where the big brute held her. She could feel the big hands crushing the softness of her rounded buttocks under her skirt, her, breasts mashed into the hard chest, mouth captive under his punishing lips and his hot poker tongue darting in between her teeth. Small as she was, she tore herself finally from his arms and stood panting and disheveled against the counter edge.

"Stop it, Lester! Stop it this instant! Leave me alone. Just leave me alone so I can get the dinner on the table. You've given me a terrible headache... and you're acting like a maniac! I just... don't know what's gotten into you." Her hands patted her curls back into place and then smoothed nervously down her apron. They fluttered up to button her blouse even higher against her throat.

"I'll tell you what's gotten into me, woman! I'm horny as hell! You haven't let me near you for weeks. A man's got to have some fucking or he's no man at all!" Lester roared, wheeling and rummaging in a cabinet. "Where the hell's the booze? God knows, I need a drink!"

"It's right here, Lester. Here... I'll get it for you." Bette Jean pulled out the bottle of bourbon. Anything was better than having to endure his kisses and what came inevitably afterwards. Distract him. That was a better tactic. Maybe even get him a little drunk. Then maybe he'd want to watch television and would fall off to sleep.

God damned bitch! Acting like he was some kind of animal every time he touched her. Shit! What the hell was he married for anyway if she was going to act like some damned prig. A man couldn't even touch his own wife anymore.

"Where the hell's another glass?" he roared.

"But I just gave you one." Bette Jean answered meekly.

"I know that! I need two. You're going to have a little drink with me, baby. Maybe that'll loosen you up a little!"

"Oh, Lester, you know I shouldn't. The doctor said I should take it easy." Her voice trailed off as Lester poured the glass half full and chunked two ice cubes after the liquor.

"Here... maybe that's what you need, baby. Loosen up that clenched ass of yours!"

"Oh, Lester... please don't talk like that... I thought we were going to have such a nice evening... I have a good dinner in the oven... it's pork chops the way you like them... and... I thought we'd talk after dinner... I went to the doctor today... that new Dr. Madson I told you about... and..."

"We are going to have a nice evening, baby... just you and me... drink up... come on... down with it..." Lester held the glass to her lips and forced her to take a big gulp. She sputtered and spit as usual but she got it down, her big blue eyes blinking back the tears. She looked so helpless and little, but he'd had enough of her innocence. By God, this was one night she wasn't going to get away with it!

"Now... that's better." He drank thirstily, watching his meek but terrified wife over the rim of his glass. He felt the liquor hit his gut in burning satisfaction. That's what he needed too. It was crazy the way he'd let this woman browbeat him. Hell, she made him feel so guilty if he did the slightest little thing. She looked so little and frail but she'd given him four healthy kids with no trouble and worked like a demon to keep the house shining and spotless. He liked it that way but there was no reason to use all her energy on the house and the kids, which was what she'd always done. He'd begun to realize recently that she'd used him for years just to bring home the bacon. Unwillingly she'd acquiesce when he wanted some tail. Well, by God, those days were over. Hell, he was forty years old. Time he had some decent fucking and a little respect around here. Shit, if he didn't get some soon... why maybe he couldn't after a while, even when he wanted to. The thought made Lester's hand shake slightly as he poured out two more stiff drinks and watched grimly while Bette Jean drank a little more.

"Did something happen at work today, dear, to make you all upset?" Bette Jean inquired softly. "I mean... I certainly didn't mean to make you so mad."

"No... nothing happened at work! I told you what was the matter, woman. Why don't you believe me when I talk to you. I need a good fuck... and so do you..." He slugged down some more of the amber liquid. Jesus. It felt good. Lester watched as Bette Jean looked in the oven and poked the chops. His eyes traveled over her trim figure. Shit! Every time he'd even looked at another woman, he'd been comparing her to Bette Jean and hell, none of them could stand up to her. That waist that he could span with his two hands and those breasts that looked like big melons, juicy and ripe, the curved hips and tapering legs. For a little gal she was one hell of a lot of woman. Not only that but she had the face to go with it. Pretty as a picture. She made some of those movie stars look cheap and overdone. But by God, he was just about ready to put it in anything that was hot and hollow! Twenty years of fighting about sex was just too God damned much. Life was too short and he'd been more than patient. No, by God, he'd been a fool... that's what he'd been... a hen pecked fool!

Lester drank steadily and insisted Bette Jean keep up with him. Somehow she got the dinner on the table though she felt rather fuzzy and relaxed. Her headache had miraculously disappeared and she tried gently to steer the conversation to topics that she thought would calm Lester down. He even grinned fatuously at her and kept patting her hand. He still hadn't dressed and she thought she'd better not make an issue of it even though every time she looked at his naked hairy chest across the table she felt a little faint.

"Lester..." she said softly as she was clearing the dishes from the table. "The... ah... doctor thinks we should have separate bedrooms for a while... just a little while till he finds out exactly what's causing my headaches and the fatigue... and feeling so done in all the time... I thought you could take Donnie's old room... it's close to the bathroom and it'll only be till I'm feeling well again..." her voice rose to a shriek as she felt herself lifted off the kitchen floor into Lester's big arms.

"Don't give me that shit, baby... not tonight! Running around to those God damned doctors making like you're sick all the time... I'm tired of paying the damned doctor bills... I'm tired of being used... I'm tired of never getting to fuck my own wife... and I'm tired of having no rights in this fucking house at all!"

Bette Jean felt every roaring word through her body as Lester carried her unceremoniously into their bedroom and dumped her in a heap on the bed. The tears rose to her eyes. He didn't care. He didn't care one bit about her feelings... he didn't care if he hurt her or made her sick. He was a monster!

"All right, Lester... you win... you always do eventually..."

"Like hell I do!!"

"Just let me bathe quickly. I'm still all sticky with salve from the visit to the doctor today... I won't be a moment."

Her mouth trembled, the big blue eyes were wet with unshed tears yet she spoke softly with stiff dignity as Lester looked down at her smallness.

"All right... but be quick about it, woman!"

Lester stalked back to the kitchen when be heard the shower start, heedless that his towel had long ago fallen off. He'd have one more belt while she showered and then by God there was going to be one hell of a fucking in that bed.

... But, while he waited, he drank. Bette Jean insisted on absolute cleanliness. They had to go through the ritual of a bath, before she would even consider having sex. There were a lot of things he had learned to put up with in this marriage business... too God damned frigging many!

Drinking at the kitchen counter he realized the shower had stopped and he didn't know how long ago. Then, he went into the bedroom, expectantly, and there she was with her nightgown on, covered up and asleep... or feigning sleep. Christ! She had pulled that on him too damned many times, already.

He crawled in under the covers, naked and furious. Reaching out for her, he said, "Bette Jean...?"

There was no answer.

Turning on his side, he moved up close to her supine body and reached out to cup a softly resilient breast in his hand. She stirred, turned to her side, her back to him, legs drawn up, curling herself into a ball, and settled, comfortable, into the mattress.

It had happened this way, too often! Frustrated anger rose in him, spilling over, acidly, as he growled, "God damn it... I know you're awake... and you're just trying to put me off... again! I told you, bitch!"

Roughly, he reached down, grasped the hem of her nightgown and jerked it up above her whitely glowing hips. There was a ripping sound of seams giving way. Her thighs were exposed, nakedly, his hand going in over the swell of her hips to the softly curled down of her pubic mound, worming its way down into the deep triangle of her loins.

"You don't have to tear my nightgown off!" she complained, giving up the pretense of sleep.

"Things like that wouldn't happen... if you'd just act like a normal wife!" Lester fired back. "You knew I wanted it tonight! I told you a million ways."

"But, I don't!" Bette Jean snapped, attempting to writhe her genitals away from his searching hand.

"Look... why don't you let me work you up to it... really get you ready for it... so you'll enjoy it more..." he coaxed.

"You've never made me enjoy it... yet!" She was caustic and hurt and smarting from his callousness.

"Damn it... honey... you've never let me do the right things!" He pointed out. "You hardly ever let me use my hand on your clitoris... and if you'd just once let me use my mouth on your cunt... you'd find out what you've been missing!"

"I'll never let you do that filthy thing... with your mouth... either!" she flared. "And... you know I don't like you to use those dirty words!"

"Damn it, baby... it doesn't have to be this way... an argument and a big hassle... every time I want to fuck you!"

"I told you I don't like those words!" Her voice was cold, deadly.

"There's not much chance I'll stop, now!" he gritted. One more jerk and the nightgown came off in ruined shreds.

"Why can't you wait until tomorrow night? I've been to the doctor. I don't feel well."

"Tomorrow... and tomorrow, again! Christ! I want it, tonight! I've got a big, aching cock... and I've got to use it... on you... because you're my wife! That's reason enough!"

"Go douse some cold water on it!" she told him.

"Yeah... I could do that... but I'm not! You God damned bitch, I could jerk off, too... but I won't do that... either!" he roared. "But there's one thing I've been tempted to do... and I may do that, yet!"

"Wh-What's that?"

"Find another woman... that knows how to fuck!"

"You... w-wouldn't...?"

"I sure as hell will... if this keeps up much longer!" It was a flat statement. He meant every word of it. "I've had twenty hellish years of hassle and I'm God damned tired of it!"

The startled wife turned toward him, panic beating hard in her. "You mean sex is so... important to you... you'd be unfaithful t-to me...?"

"I sure as hell would!"

It had never occurred to Bette Jean that Lester, in his dissatisfaction, might turn to other women for sex. She should be used to his demands by now, but she wasn't. She was tired of being used by his hard body. There was nothing to do now but give in -- but tomorrow...

Turning over on her side, facing her husband, now, her reluctant decision made, she said, "All right, darling... if you really have to have it... all that bad... and can't control yourself..."

Lester choked out, "Come here, bitch!" His arms jerked and pulled her close, the hardened shaft of his wildly pulsing cock prodding into the soft flesh of her abdomen.

It was the sexual side of love she didn't understand. To her it was messy, sometimes painful... but never really enjoyable. It was something she had to endure -- even more so, now -- to keep her marriage intact. Lester's admission of a temptation to stray had frightened her... She didn't want that!

It was as a dutiful, submitting wife, she allowed her smooth, tapering thighs to spread, allowing his hand to rummage there, between her legs, his finger searching for and finding the still flaccid tip of her clitoris, hidden down between the soft fleshy folds of her pussy.

"Lester, please be gentle!" the unwilling wife said, but she caught her breath as he suddenly leaned over her, his mouth closing over the shivering nakedness of her ripely full breast. His arms held her tightly to him as his tongue rolled around and around the quivering pink bud of her hardened nipple, and his teeth nipped at the sensitive tips, sending chilling promises of pleasure through her tense body. For the moment, she was breathlessly absorbed by the sensations, and she was hardly aware of his clawing fingers digging into the tenderly rounded flesh of her buttocks.

"Oohh! Ooooooohhhh! Darling, please... we..."

Lester had little time for playing games. She had put him off too long, too many times, and now he was going to have her this way! He was going to fuck her until the teasing little bitch begged him to fill her belly with every ounce of cum in his body! Pulling at the offending sheet, the aroused boiler maker got the tight wad stripped down away from the smoothly round cheeks of her buttocks, feeling the warmth of her shrinking naked flesh against his hand. The crevice dividing the two cheeks felt mysterious and deep, but shit! He couldn't wait for any foreplay now. All that mattered was getting her legs spread wide and his throbbing urgent cock in deep.

"Nooo! Lester! Not this way... Pleaseeee!" She screamed as his mouth on her breasts suddenly felt like it was sucking her inside out, his teeth biting cruelly at the quiveringly aroused nipples, leaving tiny indentations as a symbol of his enraged lust. Bette Jean was on her back with Lester on top, pinning her helplessly beneath his strong body. She couldn't even twist out from under him as he locked one knee between her whitely straining thighs. Lester paid no attention, continuing his mauling as though he didn't hear her protests. Her dreams had gone long ago but this was the very last time, she vowed.

Above the roar of blood in his ears, Lester could hear her frightened cries of protest, but his anger was unbounded, his pride refusing to give heed to anything but complete and total possession of her still young and gloriously sexual body. The liquor in him hadn't dampened his emotions in the least, but inflamed him to a screaming rage of blind lust! He wasn't himself anymore! He was a wild man, hungry for the loins that had been denied him too long, that were rightfully his! Feeling the silky smoothness of her resiliently curling pubic hair, Lester slipped his middle finger down into the softly quivering flesh of her pussy, searching desperately for the tightly clenched opening he had to have! Oh Jesus, yes!

A helpless confusion engulfed her recoiling consciousness as she felt her husband groping for her naked vagina. Bette Jean tried to clamp her legs together, wanting nothing but to close off access to her helpless body, but he had her unwilling thighs locked wide apart. In spite of her futile efforts, she felt her pussy being lewdly touched as her husband's middle finger probed into the defenseless hair-lined lips, seeking to invade the narrow passage to her womb. She felt nothing but anguish, even when his finger brushed across her slowly awakening clitoris, hardened now but mostly from terror.

"Oooooooohhhh! Please! Lester!" She moaned when his fingers dig hotly into the tender flesh around the opening to her womb. She just couldn't understand why he had gone so completely wild, and she squirmed under his maniacally strong grip in a futile effort to make him understand.

Her body was still a masterpiece after all these years, and just the sight and feel of her made his heart pound. The softly flowering cunt was tight, almost virginal, even after four kids. He worked his finger down between the soft hair-lined lips, worming it inside the warm fleshy passage in a hurried attempt to prepare it for his madly throbbing cock. Bette Jean's moans went unnoticed in his frenzy, as Lester drove his middle finger in and out of the tight, restricting passage with unknowingly savage thrusts. Greedily, he continued to suck and pull at the smoothly erotic flesh of her full, lush breast with his voracious mouth.

Wanting to get it over, but unable to understand Lester's need to humiliate and pain her so brutally, Bette Jean half cried, half pleaded to her passion-crazed husband.

The horrified housewife looked up at the merciless mask of her husband's face as he held her helplessly imprisoned on the bed. All that she could see was the blindly blazing lust in his eyes, and then the giant pulsing erect penis that stood straight out from his loins, pointing directly at her nakedly exposed vagina. He was staring down at her pubic mound like a hungry animal about to feast, and Bette Jean began to shake violently.

"Lester... Please... Waitttttt! Don't do... Be gentle!" she moaned, but he didn't lift his eyes to meet her pleading gaze. It was apparent that he wasn't even hearing her. Oh God! He'd never been so mad and uncontrollable! She was sure, though the evidence of 20 years of marriage and four children belied it, that his huge cock would split her in two. She stared closely at its throbbing length as though seeing it for the first time. The top was thick and purple, a huge bulbous head that seemed to bulge out with his growing excitement. She could see the long shaft lined with a road-map of blood-filled veins which pounded with his heartbeat. The entire long column protruded like a great battering ram from the densely thick forest of black pubic hair covering his loins. The twin sacs holding his balls were drawn up tightly between his hairy thighs, and she imagined the sperm inside was pounding and anxious to be released. Visions came into her head of the huge member spurting out white-hot cum deep up into her from the heated tip, and she felt her inner organs shrink in terrified apprehension.

Lester was frantic, the alcohol and prolonged desire making him impatient as a hot and horny teenager. In spite of his achingly demanding balls, he hesitated to carefully examine the sensually tight pussy nestled neatly between his wife's smooth white thighs. There was something about her cunt that he had never felt about any other cunt he'd ever fucked. It was crazy that his own wife's pussy still held him so enthralled. The silky-smooth, chestnut-colored pubic hair lining the narrow slit of her pussy was interesting in itself, and where it parted around the tight, pinkly pursed opening were gathered tiny beads of moisture. It looked absolutely untouched like a new glove made for his cock alone. There was immense satisfaction in knowing that no other cock had ever plumbed those clinging depths. The waiting pussy looked as though it had a life all its own, ready and waiting to massage the throbbing length of his penis until it had milked all of the swarming waiting sperm from his bursting body. It was still the most sensual sight he had ever seen. Oh Jesus, yes! He had to have it right away! Now!

Shifting his weight to one side, the frustrated boiler maker took his hardened penis in his hand, and moved his hips forward until the thick rubbery flesh of the purple head made light contact with the sweet female warmth of her cunt. Using his cock like a wedge, he moved it up and down in the hair-lined slit until he had parted the soft little inner lips, exposing the thin vertical slit of her cunt-mouth. She moaned when he lightly touched the bulbous head to her partly-aroused clitoris and Lester felt an aching echo in his own chest, a sign that she was ready to be fucked. He didn't really hear the pleading cries that came after. He poised, cock positioned over the coral opening of her cuntal passage, readying himself for the long awaited drive into the cringingly reluctant depths that were legally his.

Dumbfounded by the sight she was witnessing and unable to understand her failure with Lester tonight, Bette Jean began to lose contact with everything, even her immediate surroundings. She wasn't even sure if it was their bedroom or her own bed that she lay helplessly pinned to beneath his body. All she could clearly understand was the wanton nakedness of her own body, spread-eagled out under the mammoth penis about to plunge deep into the depths of her horrified belly. Oh God! He must be crazy drunk!

She raised her head up off of the bed, looking down over the hardened tips of her swollen breasts to her wide-spread thighs. She shuddered. The lips of her small pussy were parted, the hair-lined flesh, speared with the thickly purple head of his long throbbing column. It was poised and ready to drive up inside her body, tearing her vagina into a pulpy mass of shattered flesh. Her pleas for mercy were hopeless! Her husband was beyond hearing or caring! She might have been pleading with a stone or an unreasoning bull. The pressure on the tight opening to her womb became greater and greater until she thought she would be ripped apart! Dear God, it had never been so huge! It couldn't fit! It was much too big! Or she had shrunk. She imagined herself bleeding like a virgin and then hemorrhaging until she died, a wasted, waxen thing! "Noooooo! Noooooo! Pleaseeeee! Ohhh Goddd!"

Her cunt was like a tight elastic band that would not give way to his insistent pressure. His aching cock was ram-rod hard and stiff, and just the excitement of finally having it pressing into her hot unattainable little cunt made it grow even larger. Pushing his knees out to force her legs out wider, he knew that the moment had come, and with a low grunt and a heavy shove forward, his cock was suddenly wrapped tightly inside the opening to her warmly clasping cuntal walls.

"AAaaaaggghhhhh!" Bette Jean felt a great flashing pain dash through her body like she had been stabbed up between her thighs with a hot live poker, and her vainly resisting vagina was stretched wide as it opened to take the giant head of the battering penis inside her. It hurt hellishly, but he had gained his entrance to her tiny passage. She tried desperately to worm her way upward on the bed, to get out from under the painful thrust of his massively brutal cock. Tears poured from her eyes as she screwed her buttocks down hard into the mattress. It was no use. She was held too securely by his arms and legs. Looking down over the tops of her firmly rounded breasts, the desperate wife could see that only an inch of the long, hotly pulsating column had penetrated her body. It was utterly hopeless! She'd die right here in her own bed from the pain of his final entry.

The tightly clasping passage around the head of his bulging penis served only to excite him more, and Lester could feel the sensitive nerves at the tip of his cock sending urgent signals of pleasure deep inside his naked belly. It felt so God damned good! He had to bury it all the way! Dimly he knew Bette Jean was in pain or pretended to be. It was those quack doctors. Shit! She was no virgin! Besides he couldn't keep himself in control. Now with a deep grunt he shoved hard forward again to drive his penis farther up into her nakedly trembling body.

"OOOoohhhhh! AAaaaaaggghhhh! Nnnooooo!" It was terrible, worse than she had ever known it to be and she bit her teeth into her lip in an effort to keep from passing out cold. Her head swam with the alcohol. Lester was acting like a maniac, and she was afraid he would kill her without even knowing he had done so! Totally humiliated by his crude coldness and indifference to her feelings, at that moment she wished she had never seen him! Her defenseless vaginal passage was stretched to the point of splitting and the horrible pain embittered her even more. If I live through this horrible night, she promised herself, there'll be separate bedrooms or there'll be separate homes!

The pain when he shoved forward again in her vagina was suddenly and strangely gone. She couldn't analyze why, but only gratefully accept. Yet the resentment festered like a boil even without the agony. The method he had chosen to fuck her was what hurt. There didn't seem to be any gentleness or understanding, or caring, but only a vicious lusting selfishness for his own gratification. She was shamed, if not physically damaged by his cruel thrusts.

Always small, she felt tight, really tight, and Lester thought his hotly pulsating cock was going to explode any second! The glove-like velvety feeling of her pussy around his slowly sinking penis was sending such tremendous sensations of pleasure-power to his brain, that he'd have to do something quickly to keep himself from cumming before he got all the way up inside her. Jesus! It had to be all the way inside her cunt before he shot out his load of steaming sperm. Forcefully, he shoved hard with all his strength to drive his cock to the maximum depth of painfully stretched vagina. It ploughed roughly down the wet-warm passage until it smacked hard up against the cushiony end-tip of her cervix.

"UUUuuuuggghhhh... AAaaaaaggggghhhhhh!" Bette Jean didn't know what hit her, the suddenness of his full penetration was so severe. She felt as though a giant pole had been plunged into her belly, skewering her up between her open thighs like a roast for the spit, and the surprise of being completely filled by his mammoth penis made her tense up in a desperate attempt to stop the final humiliation. Helpless and hanging from the end of his lust-engorged cock suspended by the fleshy pole buried deep inside her belly, it was the final blow to her ego. Her womb ached from the rubbery fleshed head of his hardness pressed into her cervix, and she raised her disheveled head to look down between their lewdly straining bodies. His dark thick pubic hair was tangled tightly together with the lighter brown hair covering her wide splayed pussy, and it staggered her imagination to believe that his brutally giant cock was now buried all the way up inside her proud body against her will.

The pressure in his balls was getting out of control, but Lester fought off his tremendous desire to cum. Christ! The sensation of having his whole long cock in the warm depths of her slickly clasping cuntal passage! Somehow it made it better that it was against his prissy wife's wishes. Flexing his cock several times he heard Bette Jean's moaning reaction.

Hell! He couldn't wait! Pulling his hips back slowly at first, he drew back the wetly glistening hardness from the hot depths of her womb until only the thickly swollen head remained inside, then with a rush he plunged it unerringly back into the warm buttery depths of her reluctant cunt.

"Ooooohhhhh! Pleaseeeee! God! OH! OH!" She chanted her discomfort to no avail, as she felt her ruthless husband begin to unmercifully pound her battered loins with long hard stabs of his madly excited penis. There was nothing but shame and frustration and a deep hurt at his selfishness, not even waiting for her to adjust to his huge size. Bette Jean couldn't understand why he was suddenly being so extraordinarily cruel, and that thought dominated her to such a degree that she didn't consciously notice the slowly-igniting flame in the pit of her belly. If things had been done in almost any other way, he might have become conscious and realized that his now rhythmically fucking cock was actually beginning to feel good.

The tight, smooth liquidity of her cuntal walls seemed to part before and wrap warmly around Lester's hard driving cock as he shoved his hips forward in a powerful downward thrust. He was fucking her as hard and fast as he could, to make up for all the frustrating nights he had longed to do it to her. Each deep, swift-moving plunge of his long column was like a blow that released his pent-up emotions. The terrible strains her coldness and evasiveness had imposed upon him were easing now in battering, explosive pounding. It was as though he had finally completed an act he had begun years before, and he was furiously making up for lost time.

The helpless housewife was squealing and groaning loudly with each stroke of her husband's wildly throbbing cock. He looked down at her beautiful writhing body as he rammed his way hotly into the nakedly clenching little hole up between her open thighs. Her shapely legs were locked up around his hips, making it hard work for him to fuck her as fast as he wanted. Lester could clearly see the inner pinkness of her tightly clinging cuntal lips as his fleshy moistened cock slid hotly up into her flowered open depths.

The outer elastic-like ring of tenderly giving flesh seemed to flow in with his instroke, and then it would roll back out as he withdrew his excitedly pistoning cock. The hot little cunt was clasping his cock so tightly that he could feel his blood swirling around all the way up inside his balls and he fucked deeply down into the velvety animated depths of her cunt with such force that her buttocks lifted up off the bed. His balls swung free, slamming against the open crevice of the softly rounded moons with a loud lewd smacking noise, and her breasts bounced upward. The curling chestnut hair was spilling all around her head as she rolled from side to side, and oh God... There'd never been a more sensual woman!

The blue eyes were staring darkly up as though she could see nothing, but her tongue flashed out through red, parted lips as if searching for air. Lester, aroused even more by her panting, worked his hands down under the smoothly rounded cheeks of her buttocks to cup them hungrily up ever tighter to his vicious thrusts.

The incessant pounding in her vagina was punishment for her. She understood that dimly. Yet she felt and tried to shut out the growing sensations in her womb. Raising her head momentarily she looked down between her full ripe breasts at the huge male penis sliding in and out of her wide-stretched vagina. It was wet and glistening from her copiously flowing cuntal juices as it pulled from the whiteness of her belly, and when it plunged up inside again, she could feel his large sperm-filled balls smack hard into her roundly upturned buttocks just before the hard, fleshy column was completely filling her again! He drove up in between her widespread thighs with such force that she felt it like a shock wave running through her body, and her softly throbbing breasts were shaking wildly from the impact. It actually felt good, almost too good, but it looked cruel and horrid at the moment, she thought helplessly. Lester was having his will with her body without any regard for her. None! She felt she was being fucked, and yes that was the word, fucked! Like a common whore off the streets!

Despite Bette Jean's lack of response, her buttocks felt warm and soft in his hand, and Lester imagined the tiny puckered orifice hidden teasingly and mysteriously up between their hotly trembling cheeks, just below the tight fleshy warmth of her cunt. Extending his middle finger, he pushed in between her trembling ass-cheeks, feeling the smooth hairless skin of the softly yielding valley leading to her anus. He wanted to touch it, to feel the tight texture of her asshole with his finger, and make her react. The tip of his middle finger made contact with the tightly puckered little opening and he pushed hard against it, eliciting a moan of surprised response. The elastic-like ring of warmly pulsating flesh seemed to loosen and tighten in time to the fucking of his cock in and out of her cunt just above it, and the burly boilermaker twisted it around up to the first knuckle, screwing it hotly up into the rubbery mouth of her hairless little anus.

"Ugggggh! Oohhhhhh! Ooooouuuuuuuuuu!" Bette Jean groaned with the unnatural probing of her defenseless anus! Oh God! An added instrument working at her loins, his finger pressed teasingly around the tiny exposed opening! She felt a strange excitement at the total vulnerability of her every sexual opening.

"Oooouuuuuuuuuu!" Bette Jean gasped when suddenly he pressed again and slipped his finger hard into the tightly resisting orifice, his finger sinking all the way up inside and held tightly by the clinging warmth of her rectum. He could feel the hardness of his cock sawing in and out of her tightly clasping cuntal passage through the thinly dividing membrane separating the two passages, and he probed further driving his digit finger again and again into the rubbery hot depths of her asshole.

"Uuuggggghhhh! Pleaseeeeee!" She screamed, but there was something new, something almost masochistic in the pleasure that poured through her body. Her total exposure and openness to his assault was taking on a new sensation and she twisted her buttocks back onto his middle finger without really understanding why. He suddenly shoved his finger down until his palm was pressed hard against her wide-spread buttocks, his second assault deep inside the hot, forbidden depths of her rectum. Almost immediately, the finger sawed in and out of her anal passage in time to the intense motion of the thick long cock in her cunt. She squirmed on the bed beneath him, the anguish suddenly taking second place to the vibrant pleasures filling her loins. He was debasing her, using her openings completely!

At an instant in time that was only distinguishable by a momentary flash in her mind, she felt an unbelievable pleasure in a masochistic awareness of her entire body. She realized in that second that there was something of great pleasure to be had from being fucked like a whore, and she wanted to know the heights of that pleasure now, in spite of her anger with Lester's rough treatment. It was a discovery of the growing burning sensations in her womb that seemed to emanate from her entire body as it became more and more intense. She could feel her hotly aroused clitoris beating with pleasures that danced electrically over every nerve in her pounded body, and somehow knew that it was going to get better and better. Almost magically she was working her hips up and down in a frenzy. "Aaaaahhhhh! Ooooohhhh! Yyyyyeeeeesssss!" She mewed with newly discovered pleasure echoing in her passion-torn cunt. Slowly she was beginning to respond to his fucking. The warm, strong muscles in her rectum began to slowly, hesitantly, pull and work at his screwing finger, wanting it deep as he drove it through the viselike tightness of her anus. Her whole body was coming to life, her buttocks grinding under the smoothly steaming plunges of his hugely beating member, then raising themselves up to his deepest drives. Now she was gripping his hips tightly between firmly locked thighs as if not wanting him to leave her again. She pulled her legs up, opening her loins even wider to his hard thrusts, and arched her hips up to meet him, twisting and mewing, enchanted by the hard fleshy column shoved deep in her wildly burning cunt.

"Ooohh! Goddd! Yesssss!"

It was too much! Suddenly, processes were set in motion that Lester couldn't stop. She looked so wildly wanton squirming passionately beneath him, that his balls, suddenly and without warning, exploded like hand grenades! The white hot cum began its sensational rush toward the blood-filled head of his cock. Slamming his hips forward to completely bury the wildly jerking head deeper up inside her clenchingly burning womb, he arched his back and threw his head up as the first pleasurable blast of his climax burst into her cunt! He couldn't hold it back, and his cock swelled up to huge proportions as it fired out the stored-up liquid with tremendous jerks.

"Oooooohhhhh! Goddddd! I'm... I'mmmmm!" the crazily twisting housewife felt the hot blast of liquid strike far up into the convulsive depths of her belly, and thrilled to the sensation of the hugely swollen penis as it jerked and throbbed out again and again, firing its lava-like jets deep up inside her hungrily clasping cunt! It had suddenly triggered an emotion she'd thought she was incapable of, a startling realization that she was able to cum! Her mind swam with a thousand lewd images as she kicked her legs out impossibly wide, jamming her cunt up hard into Lester's loins as her belly began to explode in response to his obscenely spewing instrument. The finger buried deep in her rectum seemed only to intensify everything she felt, and she wanted it all, again and again and again!

"Ooohhh honey!" Lester groaned as his balls seemed to shoot right on past the head of his cock. It was himself deep within the depths of her tightly clasping cunt! The hot liquid surrounding his throbbingly pulsating member suddenly gushed out around the thick base, soaking his pubic hair before running slowly down the wide-spread crevice of her buttocks over his deeply buried finger in her anus. His cock was like an insane beast spitting at its prey, filling Bette Jean's trembling pussy with his churning hot cum until it overflowed, mingling together with the whitely cascading juices of her own orgasm. At that moment they were one, coupled in a steaming mass of passion that neither one of them had ever known existed before.

"Ooooooh God, darling! Oooooh God!" She groaned and grunted as her belly rippled with the pleasure she had tried to deny herself, and she was lost in the frenzied heat of complete sexual enlightenment. She was suspended for several moments on a precipice of teetering ecstasy, her cunt welded hotly to the hard fleshy column squirting hot liquid into her belly, and she could no longer deny the sheer exquisite pleasure it gave her. She was a woman, complete and fulfilled no matter how it had occurred, and she wanted it to go on forever... and ever.

For several moments, his cock continued spewing out his whitely flowing sperm, filling her passage with lewd spasms of erotic delight as it traveled up the full lust-engorged length of his rod, then splashing out the dilated tip to strike wetly back against her cervix. But then, he was exhausted, spent, and his arms felt like they could no longer hold anything. He fell heavily on top of Bette Jean's still nakedly writhing body, pulling his finger noisily from her anus as he gasped for air.

It was over, but she didn't want it to stop! Grinding her slippery buttocks frantically against his deflating cock, she tried to milk more life from his semen-drained balls, but it was no use. Slowly the spasms in her belly died down, and with their dying she remembered the way she had been so selfishly assaulted. Her excitement had made her forget her anger at Lester's brutal and cruel indifference.

"I'm sorry," Lester panted, gasping for breath, and only then did she realize that she felt wrong. Her body suddenly began to ache instead of tingle with pleasure. She moaned, feeling the softness of his deflated cock still trapped limply up inside her stretched vagina. Something inside her told her to be hurt and angry, and she looked into his eyes while beginning to sob. He should feel guilty for what he'd done to her, she thought.

"Go away! Leave me alone!" Bette Jean sobbed suddenly, the words coming out like sharp blades intended to injure.

Deflated now, hurt by the words, Lester rolled off her body, his cock pulling from her cunt with a soft, wet, whooshing noise. A thin string of cum clung to the tip of his satiated penis, running like a web to the thin brown strands of her pubic hair as a lewd reminder of his recently unleashed orgasm. He looked at her, wanting to explain all of his pent-up emotions, but the look in her eyes told him that nothing would help right then. He was completely sober now, and reaching the door, he turned to say something to Bette Jean, but she only rolled over on her side, turning her naked back to him. He was afraid to say anything for fear of raising her wrath.

"I have to think, Lester. Sleep in Donnie's room," Bette Jean said. She didn't hear the door slam, but she turned onto her back anyway, her hand instantly touching the tender spots on her breasts. She'd go see Dr. Madson again tomorrow.

Lester looked down at his well fucked wife who now pretended she'd hated it all. Christ! What a hypocrite. He fit a cigarette and sat down heavily on the side of the bed. That damned woman. He'd never understand her if he lived to be a hundred.

CHAPTER TWO

Light filtered faintly through the curtains, faithfully reproducing the lacy intricacy of the cloth in soft swirls of shadow across the carpet and rumpled bed. Bette Jean stared at it through slitted eyes. Her head ached and the inside of her mouth felt dry and tasted brown. There was a heavy weight across her thighs. Heavy and warm and confining... Another weight pinned her breasts. A soft snore rasped thick breaths into her armpit.

Her eyes flew open and the breath caught in her throat as the terrible memories of last night came flooding back into her awakening consciousness. The smell of stale sweat and the musk of sexuality came to her nostrils. Oh God! What horrors married women had to endure! She wriggled and felt the last of Lester's cum from the night before trickle obscenely out of her ravished body onto the sheet, wetting it with his lurid spend. She tried to move but Lester's sleeping body sprawled across her kept her touching the wet stickiness. The ugliness of the entire night flashed through her, made even more revolting by lying here in the clear light of morning, seeing, smelling, remembering.

Pushing her hands under her she managed to wriggle partly out from under Lester's dead weight. Inch by inch she pulled free, which didn't disturb his thick snore except to introduce a few snorts.

The shower was hot and cleansing and Bette Jean stood gratefully under its stinging spray. There was no question in her mind now. Lester would use Donnie's room or she'd leave. She couldn't... she wouldn't be subjected to such indignities again ever. Even the threat that he would seek another woman wouldn't change her mind. It wouldn't be easy. The word always got around and she'd be humiliated if he took a mistress but it was better than being his housewife-whore! Let him vent his hideous animal passions on some other poor female... but it wouldn't be on her body again... ever... no matter what.

Strangely, aside from her headache she didn't feel too bad, she mused, rubbing herself briskly with a large soft towel. There was an unfamiliar sense of well being and almost of euphoria. Even the sight of her full white breasts marred by the faint blue bruises could not dampen her spirits. It was will power, of course, and knowing that you'd taken a stand and couldn't be budged.

The doorbell shrilled as Bette Jean buttoned the ivory satin robe around herself. It was the Christmas robe that Lester had given her several years ago that she'd never worn. Too dressy for cooking breakfast and too showy and provocative in the evenings. Bette Jean had saved it in case she ever had to go to the hospital. But somehow it seemed the right time to wear it now. It was a symbol of her vow, she thought, buttoning the last button as she answered the door.

A long expanse of tanned thigh below a bright red short skirt was the first thing she saw. Looking upward, there was a short navy jacket and a white blouse that showed far too much bosom in the deep V neckline and above that a young but pouty face framed by long sandy hair. Her eyes traveled back down again to discover several suitcases nestled around the navy pumps.

"Yes?" Bette Jean clutched the pale lace at her throat higher.

"Bette Jean... don't you know me?" The pouty mouth split in a teasing smile to show even white teeth.

"I... Wanda? You can't be Wanda..."

"But I am. It's me... I know I've grown some since you saw me... but I never thought you wouldn't recognize me."

Bette Jean found herself enveloped in strong young arms and a sisterly kiss planted on her cheek. The young girl smelled of strong perfume. She whirled on into the house, laughing and talking.

"It's your baby sister! Been a mighty long time, I know... but here I am! My... what a beautiful house you've got, Bette Jean. Makes home took pretty bad... I mean Aunt Dee's and Uncle Alf's. You know... I just thought I'd never get here... but I kept dreaming that some day I would and... after all these years... here I am at last! I can hardly believe it... can you?"

"No... no... I can't, Wanda." Bette Jean tried to smile warmly but she was so taken aback by the sudden appearance of her younger sister that she still couldn't quite take it all in. Her head was full of a thousand questions.

"Why didn't you let me know you were coming?"

Wanda had rushed back to lug the heavy suitcases inside the entry. She brushed her long sandy-colored hair out of her green eyes. "Well... I never was much good at writing... and I just decided it was time I came for a visit... I mean... it's been so long since I even saw you. I'd about forgotten I had a sister. Seems like you and Lester just never can get away to come home anymore. Heavens... it's been at least five or six years since you were home... and well, I just made up my mind and... I can't believe it but I'm here!" She pulled the last piece of luggage in and shut the door, panting a little with exertion. Her eyes were shining and she looked around in wonder.

"You've got just about the prettiest house I ever saw, sister. Some day I'm going to have me a house like this. Yes sir... that's just what I'm going to do. You wait and see!"

"I'm sure you will, Wanda, but you've got a long time to think about that. Why you're not even out of high school are you?" Bette Jean knew her sister was only seventeen but with the clothes and makeup she looked at least twenty or more. No, it wasn't just the clothes. It was the manner, the makeup and something in the eyes... knowing and a little hard. The girl was taller by at least four inches and voluptuously well developed. The last time she'd seen her, Wanda had been a pigtailed little girl, gawky and awkward... now she was grown and... well, there was no denying it... sexy looking.

"I'm just making coffee. We... ah... got lazy this morning... and I was just getting ready to go to the kitchen when you rang the bell."

"Imagine being able to make the coffee in something as pretty as that robe. I'll bet Lester just spoils you good. Well, I'm going to look around and find me a good husband like that in a year or two. Oh... I just can't get over this pretty house. I'd just love to keep a house like this. I will, too. I'll help you with the housework, Sis. I sure will."

"Well... I manage pretty well by myself."

"Oh, I didn't mean it looked neglected. It's just beautiful! I just meant that I could lend you a hand, you know."

The cheeriness of her voice brought only dismay to the beautiful housewife. Automatically she made coffee and started the bacon. She hated surprises and house guests always disrupted her routine. Her thoughts were chasing through her head at breakneck speed. Wanda sounded as though she'd come for a long visit. The bags! Heavens, there must be at least six or eight of them.

"What's going on out here? I sure could use a cup of coffee." Lester walked in amid the girlish chatter, a bathrobe wrapped around his hairy body that failed to cover his bulging muscular calves. He looked sleepy and rumpled and querulous. The drooping eyes popped open wide when Wanda came into his range of vision where she sat at the white kitchen table, jacket off, long legs stretched out and young full firm breasts almost bursting out of her white crepe blouse.

"Well... I didn't know you had a caller so early, honey. Why don't you introduce me..." There was something oddly familiar about the luscious long legged creature sitting at his kitchen table at nine A.M. but he couldn't quite place her. Jesus! She sure had legs and tits! You didn't have to have a whole lot of imagination to almost feel those bursting in the palms of your hands or your cock pressed between their warmly inviting roundness. Just looking at all that nubile flesh made the roll with Bette Jean last night seem like a snack to whet the appetite. The green eyes were looking at him appraisingly too, framed by the swing of silky, sandy hair. She was no innocent, he'd judge. A broad only looked at a guy like that when she'd had a little experience. It was as though she'd learned a private language that only males understood. He read her all right.

"It's my sister, Lester. You remember Wanda." Bette Jean answered, busying herself turning the bacon with a long handled fork.

"Why, of course. How are you Wanda!" Lester took her hand and grinned down at her. "You've grown some since I saw you! Yessiree! Grown a lot. Can't much blame me for not knowing who you were. Who'd have ever thought that skinny little kid'd turn out like this!"

"Sure is good to see you, Lester. Has been a long time. I was just telling sister here it must be five or six years."

"Well, we're mighty glad you came, Wanda. House is kinda empty with just Bette Jean and Gary and me. Lots of room. Sure is nice you've come for a visit. You have, haven't you?"

The pink tongue came out to wet the pouty coral mouth. "Well, I hope you'll let me stay a while. I should have let you know, I guess, but I'm not much good at writing."

"Lester! Go get some clothes on!" She hadn't meant for her voice to shrill like that, but the way he was looking at Wanda was obscene. The dirty minded old goat. Bette Jean's hand shook a little taking the eggs out of the refrigerator. It was too much after last night to find the sister she hadn't expected to see, standing on her doorstep like that at the crack of dawn. Standing there with all her suitcases as though she'd come for good.

Lester winked at Wanda, his head nodding at Bette Jean, "The old lady got up on the wrong side of bed. I'll be right back."

Bette Jean's nerves felt strained and tightened all during breakfast, as though attached to screws that turned them more and more taut. Lester was grinning fatuously at Wanda as he ate, his face scrubbed and shaved and shining. Her sister was fawning and flattering her husband till he was fairly preening. It was disgusting.

"Sugar?"

Wanda shook her silky length of hair. "No, thank you. I have to watch my figure."

"No you don't. You just let old brother Lester do that." He laughed uproariously.

Wanda laughed appreciatively. "I'd forgotten what a nice man you married, Bette Jean. If you weren't my sister I'd be kinda jealous."

"He's old enough to be your father, Wanda, and he's getting childish in his old age," Bette Jean answered peevishly, then turned the conversation to Uncle Alf and Aunt Dee. Pouting a little, her younger sister complied, answering questions reluctantly.

Finally Bette Jean got the courage to ask right out. "How long are you planning to stay?"

Wanda fidgeted and blushed. "Well, I was hoping maybe you'd let me stay for good. They're getting so old, Bette Jean. I mean I can't even have a date without the roof falling in. I mean... well, I wouldn't be any trouble. I'd get a job and I could help you with the housework and all. I just had to get away. There's nothing to do in that little old to

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