The Vacation Wife by David Stone (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📕

Susan and I slipped into a zone. She shifted her legs so she could lift herself higher. I watched my cock sliding into her as her delicate lips rose rode up and down my shaft. Susan was facing Greg’s living room, her naked breasts in full view. This excited me beyond belief.

“Oh, God,” said Susan. “You’re going so deep this way.” She was panting now.

“Too much?” I quit lunging as she bounced her ass over me, a feat that required strong thighs and calves, of which she was in full possession.

“Maybe…” This was also delivered via pant. She lifted off and turned around, landing in a proper cowboy position. She re-inserted my cock and gently sat upon it. We slipped into a slower rhythm, pacing ourselves.

“You’re fun,” she said, now with more control over her breathing. “I like what’s happening to us… It’s…” She paused for breath. “It’s so… It’s so overpowering...”

“I know.” As I said this, I noticed movement in Greg’s kitchen. The light went off, and soon, the one in the living room was off too. From there he would have his best view into our living room.

“Stand up,” I said.

“What?”

“Stand up and bend over the coffee table.”

“Okay.” She lifted off, stood, and bent over the table. Her long legs meant she was in a perfect position to receive me. I slipped back in and she moaned. “I like it this way, so much… Oh, Ryan… God.”

“Greg’s watching. I saw him turn off the light in his living room.”

“Oh God… Really? Oh God, Ryan… fuck me, Oh God.”

Susan began gasping. I pulled her up so I could reach her breasts. I pinched a nipple and she wailed. I was banging into her ass and grunting like an uncouth caveman. Susan began to climax, her orgasm telegraphing the event throughout her body. She nearly collapsed but I held on.

She went rigid awaiting her final release, and soon bliss-filled spasms followed, accompanied by a chorus of moans and wails and expletives. She went momentarily limp, then stood and turned around. She knew I hadn't yet come. She kneeled and took my quivering cock into her mouth and pumped. Within thirty seconds, I was jetting onto her warm tongue. She gasped while trying to swallow. When I stop convulsing, she gave my cock a summary suck and released it. She hadn’t capture all of my ejaculate, some of which now lined her chin and cheeks.

She used her fingers to tidy herself, licking each one clean. She stood and we embraced, then we collapsed together on the sofa.

After several minutes lying quietly together, I saw Greg’s kitchen light flick on. The show was over. This timing—first his lights on, then off, and now on again—could only mean he’d witnessed the bright display of our lovemaking.

He’d watched my naked wife in action.

Chapter 7: Dear Old Dad

YOU LEARN SOMETHING NEW EVERY DAY

When I asked the duty nurse where to find my father’s room, she’d taken a deep breath as if preparing to deliver bad news. Instead, she smiled. She was on the plump side and wore thick-framed glasses meant to be ironic set-off by bright red lipstick. The combination conveyed an “I’m not worried about my weight issues” message.

“Are you a relative of Mr. Peterson?”

“Yes. His son. Ryan Peterson.”

She gave me a look over and gently shook her head, making me wonder what dad had been up to. He was a natural charmer and women tended to view him in a favorable light unless they didn’t. You never knew which way it would go. Women of the younger generations tended to give his chivalry mixed reviews.

“Room 206, that way,” she said, pointing. “You have a half-hour.” With this out of the way, she swiveled in her chair, thus terminating our interview. Though it felt abrupt, I decided not to read anything into it and followed her directions.

“Hi, Dad,” I said cheerfully, upon entering his room. He looked chipper for a man who just had his hip tinkered with. Perhaps it was the drugs.

“Did you bring it?” he asked, finding a preliminary greeting superfluous. I retrieved a flask of bourbon from my suit jacket.

“Are you sure you can drink this with your medication?”

“We’ll know soon enough. Have a seat.”

I sat and faced him sideways. He emptied the flask into his near empty water pitcher, filled a cup, and drank it in one gulp.

“That’s better,” he said. “How are things?”

“I’m fine. The question is, how are you?”

“I’ve already been up twice. It’s not so bad. I’m waiting for them to come and remove the catheter. I hate the damn thing.”

“That’s exciting. I don’t want to miss that.”

“Smartass… Your day will come.”

“I have no doubt.”

He brought me up to speed on his procedure, its relative success, his prospects for a quick recovery, and offered a review of the general state of medicine and health costs.

“Ten bucks for an aspirin. Can you believe it?”

“It’s obscene,” I said, truly believing it was. He took another generous swig of his drink.

“How’s work?”

“No problems there. All is good. We’re busting at the seams with new cases. Oh, Harold says hello. I had lunch with him yesterday.”

“How is Harry?”

“He hates that name.”

“That never bothered me.”

“He’s fine.”

“Good. I always liked him. He and Meg are an interesting couple.”

“Yes, they certainly are.” I had no idea what I was agreeing with. What did my father know about Harold and Meg that would make them interesting? I decided I didn’t want to know.

“Anyway, it was a smart move, son, becoming a lawyer. I told you it was a good life. You’ll be able to retire soon.”

“Someday, for sure.”

“It goes quick, believe me. It seems like yesterday your mother and I were packing you off to college. That was going to be ‘our time’, you know, after you left.”

“I know.”

“And then she died.”

“I am aware, Dad.”

“I’m just saying it goes faster than you know. How’s Susan?”

“Couldn’t be better. She’s sorry she couldn’t come.”

“Next time.” He refilled his cup and took another big