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

was the same. She was now sitting in our car wearing only her bra, which she started to remove.

“Jesus, Susan. What the hell are you doing?”

“I want you to screw me, you fool.”

“Here?” There were people now circulating the parking lot looking for their own cars. There was a good chance the owners of the two on either side us would be along soon.

Susan laid across the backseat and lifted a leg over a headrest. There was no mistaking her wishes. She wanted to be fucked. My two brains concluded their brawl and within seconds my trousers were lowered to half-mast and I was on top of her. She guided me and I found no resistance. She was thoroughly wet and ready. She moaned triumphantly as I thrust, bucking herself into me. Due to the cramped circumstances, I couldn’t fondle her breasts, which looked beautiful, so she felt them herself, drawing on her nipples.

We heard a couple nearing us, their voices rising at a speed that suggested they were having a jog. I heard a car door open and looked. It was the car next to us on Susan’s side. I tried to get Susan to stifle her moans but she wasn’t in a mood to cooperate. Instead, she went the other way. I could tell she was about to climax. Hearing another batch of voices seem to do the trick. She jumped off the ledge and fell into a full-body orgasm.

I managed to get a hand over her mouth before the real howling commenced. She soon settled down and I lifted myself off and over while she straightened herself out on the seat beside me.

“Oh God, Ryan. We’re going to get arrested if this keeps up.” She laughed.

“It was your idea, honey. Don’t blame me when they cuff you.”

“I won’t… You didn’t come, did you?”

“No. I was too busy trying to keep you from repeating your performance from the other night. You know the one.”

“You mean in the backyard, right? The ‘fuck me, I’ve been naughty’ stuff?

“That’s right.”

“I am naughty, aren’t I? I’m a really bad girl.”

“I’m getting that impression.”

“You like it, right?” This talk was restoring my erection, so I assumed I was liking this having a bad girl, naughty wife.

“I do.”

“I’m going to give you a blow job, okay? It’ll be like high school. You know, in the car?”

“What? Here?” I was forced to wonder—how many blow jobs had she given to boys in cars in high school? I knew I’d never received one in a car, not from Susan or anyone else.

Feeling a reply wasn’t necessary, she descended on my cock. Watching her head bob over my crotch, and wondering how many other boys or men had enjoyed this very same view of Susan, was enough to bring me to a quick orgasm. Susan knew where I was and began sucking much harder. I was lifted off the planet for what seemed like several minutes. This orgasm was unlike any other. I felt it throughout my body, and particularly in my brain, which seemed to blow a fuse.

Susan wiped her lips. I was much tidier this time. She buried her head in my neck and held my cock in her hand as it settled into a recuperatory nap. I’d forgotten we were sitting in the middle of a parking lot with people filing all around us. Without the urgency of desire numbing my other senses, I became very aware we were basically out in public. I reached over for Susan’s dress and pulled in up around her shoulders. My trousers were still down around my knees.

“Hmm,” said Susan. “I like making you happy. You make me happy too.” She kissed my cheek.

“You do make me very happy.”

“You come a lot, did you know that?”

Now, that observation was a bit jarring, in that it involved comparisons.

“No, I didn’t know.”

She kissed me. “I should have been doing it more all along. I’m sorry. I promise to give you more blowjobs.”

“I haven’t felt shortchanged.”

“I mean, you always go down on me, but I don’t always go down on you all the way... Do you see what I mean?”

“Well, you’re making up for it now. That was terrific, by the way. It felt different, too. I can’t explain it.”

“Good.”

“I’m sleepy. Maybe we should go home now. Can you drive okay?”

“I’m fine, honey.” I pulled up my trousers. “You can stay here. We’ll be home in twenty minutes.”

“Okay.” She kissed me again. I got in the front seat and drove us home. She gently snored along the way but perked up when we pulled into the driveway. If was after one.

She started to pull her dress on properly and I told her not to bother.

“You sure?”

“No one’s going to see you.”

“Okay.”

She got out of the car and walked up to the house holding her dress in front of her. Her ass looked beautiful in the moonlight.

I felt like the luckiest man in the world.

Chapter 9: The Last Supper

ALL THINGS ORAL

“Honey,” said Susan, speaking through her phone. It was the day after the charity fundraiser and I was still recovering from our parking lot debaucheries. “We’re having drinks at Delizioso. Come join us!”

Driving home from work, I had looked forward to a quiet evening before the Day of Judgment. The next day, Marci and Susan would experiment with what now sounded like a vastly peculiar idea. Would Susan’s nude sunbathing give her a tingle? Would I get one as well? This summed it up, really, once one drilled to the core of her intentions.

But could it be that simple?

Susan had dismissed the idea of her being an exhibitionist. I now wondered if that dismissal had been hasty. During the past few days, we’d made love in our living room with the hope of being watched by our neighbor. A salacious romp in the car in a public parking lot followed. Both had been great, of course, and I wasn’t complaining.

But all things run a course. There’s always a beginning, a