1 comments/ 22665 views/ 9 favorites Who's That Knocking at My Door? By: ms72vt When James first heard the knocking at his front door, he tried to tell himself it was only the wind. It was a blustery night, after all—a good night to be indoors. Five inches of snow had fallen that afternoon, and after sunset, the mercury had risen. Not a good thing. The snow had turned to freezing rain, and the roads were a sheet of ice. He had nearly slipped on the driveway when he'd gone out to the car after supper to retrieve the stack of papers he'd forgotten to bring inside when he arrived home from work. Knock-knock-knock! Louder this time, more insistent. "It's just the wind," he said to no one in particular. Jeanine was upstairs, probably asleep in bed. They'd had a shouting match about an hour ago—he complained that he'd had a stressful day at the office and needed a release. Couldn't she at least give him a blowjob? She told him to go to hell, she wasn't his personal whore, she was his wife. And she wasn't in the mood. He responded by saying she was always in the mood to give Conan some loving when he wanted it. To which she replied that he was a pathetic excuse for a man if he was jealous of a cat! Things had escalated from there, and before he knew it, he was yelling, and she was yelling, the words they exchanged tinged with poison. Only the fact that Jeffrey and Amanda down the hall might hear them shouting was motive enough to make them stop. But he didn't want to stay there, staring up at the dark ceiling, lying beside an angry wife who hadn't shown an interest in sex in a long, long time. So he had come downstairs to get some work done. That was the thing about being a manager of a department in the IT world. The workload never stopped, not even when you got home. If he couldn't make love to his wife tonight (or any other night, it seemed), at least he could get a head start on the pile of papers he needed to tackle tomorrow. Knock-knock, thump-thump!! Louder still. What the hell? Was someone really out there? How could they be? Who would be out driving on a night like this? And on this road, too? He and Jeanine had wanted to live in the country, away from things. They lived on a dirt road, no neighbors within a mile. Usually, the traffic on this road was minimal, even in the daytime. Knock-knock! "Shit." He stood up, headed for the door. If this didn't stop, Jeanine might hear it, wake up—maybe become startled or afraid. That was the last thing he needed, on top of everything else. And the kids, too. They had been sound asleep when he checked on them an hour ago—thankfully they hadn't woken up during the shouting match. Well, at least they were all upstairs. Hopefully they'd just sleep right through this. Still, he needed to find out what the hell was going on. He arrived at the door, flicked on the switch. Nothing. Damn. He'd forgotten about that. The porch light had burned out a week ago. He'd been meaning to replace it, but his mind was always on other things. Knock-knock-knock! So loud. So freaking loud. Without hesitating, without considering that it could be a lunatic with an axe at his doorstep, he unlocked the door and flung it open. The figure on the porch steps was a silhouette, slightly illuminated by the lights from within the house. Apart from discerning that the person was short, he couldn't make out who it was. "I'm sorry to bother you," a female voice said. "I . . . I lost control of my car up the road a ways, and I saw your lights were on." He looked out, squinting, squinting . . . still unable to see much. "You okay?" he asked. "Are you hurt?" "No. I'm fine," the voice said. She sounded young. "It's just, I got stuck in a snowbank, and then when I was trying to pull out, I lost control again and ended up in a ditch. There's a lot of glare ice on the road. I even slipped on your driveway a couple of times, just walking up here." "I know," he said. "Nasty night." "Umm, look, would it be okay if I could use your phone?" the woman asked. "I need to call AAA, and my cell's dead. I need to get a new battery." She reached into her pocket, and he tensed. But all she pulled out was the dead phone. She pressed the Power button, but nothing happened. "See? Battery's out." He decided he'd take a chance. After all, she seemed harmless enough—just an unfortunate traveler out driving on the wrong night. He told her to come inside. "Thank you," she said. He stepped aside to let her in, then closed the door behind her. For the first time, he got a good look at her. She looked to be in her early twenties. She was petite, had blue eyes, and blonde hair that was drenched from the freezing rain. For such a miserable night, she wasn't dressed appropriately. She wore only a light-gray sweat jacket and a pair of form-fitting low-rise jeans. "Feels good to step out of that damn ice rain," she said. "God, it really sucks out there." "If you don't mind my asking, what were you even doing driving way out here on a night like this?" he asked. She hugged herself, still trying to get warm. "Well, I was at a party. It sucked, so I left early. I thought I'd take a shortcut back home, so I turned onto this road. I mean, the main road was awful, too, y'know? A freakin' ice-skating rink. I didn't think this road would be any worse. But that hill right before your house? I lost control going down that, so . . ." "You live around here?" he said. A little forward of him, she was a stranger, after all, just needing to make a phone call. But she didn't seem off-put my his question. "Mmm-hmm. I live in Betheltown." Interesting. Just ten miles away. He'd never seen her before, but of course there was nothing unusual about that. It's not like he knew everyone within a ten-mile radius. "Well, please go right ahead and make that call, umm. What's your name, by the way?" "Kim," she said. "Well, I'm James," he said, and smiled. He didn't know why he was being so friendly. She would just make her call, then leave. . . . She smiled back, held it for a few seconds. "Oh, where's your phone?" He gestured for her to follow him into the kitchen. They passed by Conan, Jeanine's pride and joy—a black American short hair, who always seemed to want her lap. Damn cat. Every since they'd adopted him, his sex life had gone straight down the toilet. Conan looked up at them, indifferent, then rested his head on his paws. "Cute cat," Kim said. "Sure," he replied. "Real cute." He wondered if she could hear the disgust in his voice. She made the call, and while she was talking to the AAA rep, he couldn't help but eye her butt. The jeans were tight, generously showing off her shape. She had a fantastic ass. As she talked into the receiver, he also admired her long blonde hair, which flowed halfway down her back. It was still wet, but beginning to dry now. He wondered if she was a natural blonde. . . . She sighed when she hung up. "Bad news?" he asked. She shrugged. "They said they're having a backlog tonight. It'll probably be two hours before they get here." "Hmm, that does suck," he said, walking over to the stairs, looking up. No one stirring up there, but still, it was risky talking here in the kitchen. They should go into the living room—much farther away from the stairs. He was probably just being paranoid—who cared if anyone overheard, and got up to investigate? It's not like he was doing anything wrong. He was helping out a motorist in need. That was all. . . . He led her out of the kitchen, back to the front door. He realized it was probably wisest for all concerned if she waited for AAA in her car. But she said, "Umm . . . Look, I know how this will sound. But . . . would it be okay to wait in here? I mean, I know it's really late, and I can understand if you would want me to leave. But . . . the heater in my car isn't working. And it's so cold without it. I don't want to impose, but . . ." He swallowed, looked at his watch. Eleven forty-five. AAA probably wouldn't arrive until 1:00 AM, at the earliest. And he needed to get up by six tomorrow morning. And yet . . . and yet, if she had no heat in her car . . . "That's okay," he said. "I was planning on working for a while longer anyway." Not really true. He was planning on going up to bed at midnight, fifteen minutes away, before she came knocking on his door. "Oh, well, don't let me bother you any," she said. "And thanks. I really appreciate this." "Sure thing." He walked into his home office, which was the next room over. He left the door to his office open, so he could keep an eye on her, just in case she was a thief or something. He doubted that, though. He believed her story. He figured she'd sit on the sofa or putter around the living room. Instead, after a couple of minutes, she came into his office. She went to his chair, bent down, looking over his shoulder. Her long blonde hair brushed against his cheek. "What are you working on?" she said. "Oh . . . uh . . . well, it's kind of dull. Just schematics for a computer program." She raised her eyebrows. "Wow. You're a real brainiac, huh?" She bent down lower, and he felt her chest brush up against his shoulder. Was she flirting? No. That was absurd. She was a sexy blonde, in her early twenties. She could get any guy she wanted, no doubt. And him. He was thirty-eight, with a receding hairline and a spare tire around his waist that he just didn't have the time or willpower to get rid of. How on earth could she be flirting with him? But, just in case, he placed his hand flat on the desk, his wedding ring blatantly visible. "I wouldn't understand a word of that stuff," she went on. "Oh, it's not so hard. You just need to get used to it." "Mmm-hmm, I'm sure," she said. Behind him now, she placed her hands on his shoulders, and began to give him a massage. He sighed, he couldn't help it. It felt good. "You're pretty uptight, Jim," she said, continuing to knead his shoulders. "You mind if I call you Jim? You work too hard, I bet. I can feel the tension." "What are you? A massage therapist, or something?" Damn she had great hands. She giggled. "No. I'm a waitress. But I've had a lot of practice, you know, relieving guys of their tension. . . ." Yeah, I'll bet, he thought. He stood up, abruptly. "Look, Kim, I'm not sure what's going on here. But I'm a married man, you know. My wife and kids are asleep, upstairs. So, I don't know. Maybe it's better if you go out to your car." "Hey, wo," she said, holding out her hands. "I don't know what you think I was up to, but I didn't mean anything by it. I just thought you looked tense, okay? I'm not trying to get you into trouble." He felt like a creep. Of course she wasn't! She was just giving him a little shoulder rub, fully clothed. What was the big deal? Besides, she couldn't be coming on to him. He'd already been through that in his mind. She was way out of his league. "I'm sorry," he said. "I guess I overreacted." She smiled. "No problem. And I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." "Not at all," he said. "And anyway, it felt great. I wish my wife would give me a rubdown sometimes. Usually, she's too busy fawning over the cat." Stupid. Giving out too much information. She unzipped her sweat jacket, took it off, threw it over the back of his chair. His jaw dropped, just for a second, but from the twinkle in her eyes, she had noticed. She was a knockout. She had small breasts, but they were beautifully proportioned to the rest of her. Soaking wet, she couldn't have weighed more than ninety-five pounds. Yet, she wasn't overly skinny. She was just right. Small-boned, petite, the kind of woman you wanted to protect, take care of, keep out of harm's way. Her short-sleeve pink shirt, hugging her form closely, went down to just above her belly button. Combined with her low-rise jeans, her midriff was bare. And he couldn't help but notice her nipples. They were protruding, perky, pressing tightly against her shirt. She slowly approached him. "I really do appreciate your letting me stay in here with you, where it's nice and warm," she said. She was mere inches away from him now. She was short, no more than 5'2", and had to look up at him. He was 5'9", and always felt like a shrimp, especially because his wife was taller than him. It felt kind of good to be so much taller than someone, for a change. "Well, it's the least I can do," he said. "I mean, if your car doesn't have any heat . . ." He took a step back, sat back down in his office chair. She smiled. He didn't like the looks of it. It seemed as if she had just come up with an inspired idea. She went up to him, placed her hands on his shoulders again, began to rub his muscles. "Yeah," she said. "Now I want you to relax, Jim. Okay? Just enjoy it." And he did. God help him, he did. Her fingers knew exactly what to do, where to touch, how much pressure to exert. "And while you're enjoying it," she went on, "I have another favor to ask you." Uh-oh. "This might sound crazy, but . . . would it be okay if I took a shower?" He sprang up from his chair again. A shower? "Uhhh . . ." "I know, I know," she said. "But . .. I mean, I'm such a mess. Look at me." He did. She didn't look like a mess to him. Far from it. "I mean, my hair smells, it's yucky as hell. I was out in all that cold and wet. The warm water would feel so good. And I'll be quick, too. Would that be okay, Jim?" "Ummmm." No. Of course it wouldn't be okay! "Sure." Before he could resist, she kissed him. It was a soft kiss, lingering, and at the end, she gave him just a little bit of tongue. "Thanks," she said. "You've been so nice to me." And before he could move or say anything, she darted out of the room. But then she turned around, as if forgetting something. "Oh . . . where's the bathroom?" "Just turn down the hall, it's at the end," he said. She smiled. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll be really quiet. And fast." ♣ "Mmm, your wife has awesome shampoo," she said twenty minutes later. "I loved it!" He was in the living room now, sitting on the couch. Kim had been true to her word—she had been quick, and about as quiet as you could be, taking a shower. And for some reason, the thought of her using Jeanine's shampoo turned him on. He felt a stiffening of his dick. What also turned him on was the sight before him. Kim had come out with only a bathroom towel wrapped around her. Her hair, which she must have towel-dried (he hadn't heard the blow drier), was glistening and fresh from her shower. And she smelled wonderful, that heady, fragrant, just-coming-out-of-the shower smell. . . . She sat down beside him on the sofa. Her nearness, her fragrance, caused the tent in his pants to grow. "You sleep in your office clothes?" she asked him then. The question took him by surprise. Was that her way of telling him, indirectly, that she noticed his raging hard-on? "Uhh, yeah, a lot of times I do," he said. "It's not like I need to strip them off. My wife wouldn't care one way or the other." Again, he grimaced. He was telling her way too much. So now she knew he was a frustrated husband, not getting any on the home front. Great. Smart, James. Real smart. Suddenly the telephone rang. "Shit," he said, and raced into the kitchen. He managed to pick it up on the second ring. "Hello?" It was AAA, calling for Kim. While she talked to the woman on the other end, he again went to the stairs, glanced up. Still nothing. Not a sound. Only darkness and silence. . . . "Now they're saying it won't be till three in the morning," he heard Kim say behind him. He turned around. She had hung up the phone, and had an "I'm sorry" expression on her face. "That really sucks for you, Jim. If you want me to go back out into my car . . ." "No," he said. He led her back into the living room. Ice pellets were still coming down hard, striking the windows. "It's way too miserable out there. You'd freeze in your car." She went up to him, put her arms around his neck. "You're really sweet." And again, before he could stop her, she kissed him. This time she kissed him longer, and he didn't pull away, couldn't pull away. She was so beautiful. So young. How could he? "Mmmmm," she said when she broke the kiss. "You know, I'm really sorry to hear that your wife neglects you, Jim. But you know, now that I know I have a few hours. . . ." His heart was racing. He didn't understand how a sexy, blonde twentysomething could possibly find him attractive. But it didn't make any difference. He simply couldn't go through with this. A kiss was one thing. But anything more . . . He tried to think of Amanda and Jeffrey sleeping upstairs, of Jeanine, lying in their bed, their marriage bed. She could be such a bitch sometimes, and she did neglect him. Kim was right on. If she would give him even one-fifth the attention she gave to that damn cat . . .! And that's when it happened. That damn cat decided that now was a good time to wake up. He walked up to James, brushed against his leg, looked up at him and meowed. Almost as if he were reading his mind, rubbing it in. As if to say, "Jeanine likes me more than she likes you, bub." He felt something inside of him snap, like kindling over a hot fire. He spent his entire life being responsible, doing the right thing, being Mr. Nice Guy. He worked hard, took a lot of flack from upper management, endured so many stresses each day. Was it really so much to ask for a blowjob every once in a while? If Jeanine wasn't in the mood for intercourse, couldn't she at least kiss him like she meant it? Give him a massage, like this stranger had? And if she couldn't bring herself to blow him, how about a simple, five-minute hand-job? Was that really so damn hard to do? And when she continually complained that she had a headache, that she was tired, that she didn't like sex anymore and couldn't they just go to sleep, when she made excuse after excuse after excuse . . . she still found the time to cuddle with Conan, to make him purr, to cater to his every whim. Well, damn it! What about his own whims? His own needs? "It's about time I get them met," he said, staring down at Conan. He shooed the cat away, went up to Kim. He said nothing, just nodded. "Great," she said. "Where do you want to go, cutie?" Cutie? Cutie??? This blonde knockout had just called him cutie? His head swirled. But then, his conscience came back, tried to reason with him one last time. He hesitated. "It's okay," she said, and kissed him. This time she was generous with her tongue. She stuck it deep into his mouth, snaking it around his own tongue, flicking it against his gums, his teeth. "Don't worry," she said. "Everything will be fine. Just tell me where you want me." "But . . ." He didn't want to ruin this, but he had to know. "Why do you . . .? I mean, Kim, you are one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. And I'm . . ." "You're cute, Jim! Do you think I'd want to play with you if I didn't think you were?" His pride swelled. She really wanted him. Him! Not for his money or his accomplishments. But for his looks. Would wonders never cease? He kissed her, for the first time initiating it. She responded hungrily, running her fingers through his thinning hair, probing his mouth again with her wonderful tongue. His erection stiffened, hardened. He was fully erect now, all seven inches of him. His dick strained against his dress pants, desperate to be freed. "Follow me," he said. He led her down the hall. On the left, before reaching the bathroom, he went into the guest room. It was where his parents would stay when they visited from out of state, where Jeanine's sister would stay when she came from Europe. But now it was where James would commit adultery for the first time in his life. That thought no longer upset him or startled him. It aroused him. Who's That Knocking at My Door? He shut the door, flicked on the overhead light. He considered that maybe they should remain in darkness, but he wanted to see Kim clearly, wanted to see her tight young body in all its glory. She didn't make him wait long. She undid the towel, let it fall to the floor. "You like?" she asked, and turned around, letting him see her naked butt, then faced front again, her arms confidently at ease, at her side. "Do I like?" She was magnificent. Her skin was fair, without blemish. Her small breasts actually looked quite large on her petite frame, and her trimmed blonde bush answered his earlier question. She was a natural blonde, all right. "Do I like?" He went to her, kissed her on the lips, on the chin, on the neck. He squatted down, and continued to kiss her—from her neck to her breasts, lingering at the taut, erect nipples, down her flat stomach, inserting his tongue into her belly button, which caused her to giggle. Down to her fine, trimmed bush, her vagina, already wet. He licked the lips of her, sticking his tongue inside, tasting her arousal, loving it. He kissed her thighs, her knees, her shins, her ankles, and then her toes. He gently lifted each of her feet, and he sucked on each one of her toes. When he finished sucking on the last of them, she squealed with pleasure. "That was awesome," she said. "I never had a guy do that before." "I don't see why not," he said. "You have beautiful toes. Very suckable." She giggled. "You are too cute, Jim." She went to the bed, a queen-sized affair with a green comforter that James had always thought was the ugliest thing he had ever seen. She hopped on. "Care to join me?" she teased. He knew he needed to strip now, and that made him feel queasy. Somehow she was attracted to his face. What would she think of his naked body, twenty pounds overweight, on the threshold of middle age? Well, there was only one way to find out. . . . "I know I'm not much to look at," he said when he was fully naked, standing beside the bed. "You know, you need to stop putting yourself down, Jim," she said. "That's about all the put-downs I'm gonna take, okay? I think you're cute. And I like a guy with a little meat on him. Especially where it counts." She reached for his dick, stroked him. "Mmmmm, nice," she purred. He couldn't wait another second. He joined her on the bed, and a moment later, they were kissing, their tongues dancing, wrestling with each other, their hands searching, stroking, fondling, caressing. He ran his fingers through her rapidly drying blonde hair. It felt like silk, like strands of golden silk. He rubbed her smooth back, pulling her closer to him, kissing her, deeper, deeper. He felt her hands on his back, pulling him closer, as well. But no matter how close she pulled him in, it still didn't feel close enough. He wanted her so bad. Wanted to feel her young body against his. Closer, closer. . . until her breasts were smashed up against his chest, until their belly buttons kissed. All the while, their tongues continued to parry and play with each other, and they moaned, sighed, purred in each other's mouths. Finally they broke the kiss. "Oh my God," she said. "You are the best kisser!" "Really?" She was breathing rapidly, her face flushed with arousal. "Really." "You know what my wife won't do? Well, she won't do a lot of things. But I've always wanted to 69 with her. And she never has." Kim smiled. "Mmmm, that's one of my favorites." "Can we . . .?" He felt the blood rush to his cheeks. "You are so cute!" she said again, and told him to lie back, and of course he did. Then she straddled him, her vagina staring down at him, just above his face. And that's when he felt her lips on his dick. "Ohhhh," he said. God, she was good. She was licking his dick-head, using her tongue masterfully. Then she took him all the way in, sliding her mouth up and down his shaft. Jeanine never did that. She had given him a handful of blowjobs over the years, but she didn't like doing it, and it showed. She put very little effort into it. But Kim was moaning as she sucked him, purring with his dick in her mouth. Her vagina, meanwhile, was right there! He could see how wet she was, how she was glistening, sopping. He raised his head, stuck out his tongue, licked her. Instantly her sucking grew more animated, and she moaned louder. The pressure she exerted on his dick grew as he licked her. He inserted his tongue, tasting her, savoring the musky aroma. He swallowed. Mmmm. Just like a perfume. He inserted his tongue again, thrusting it in deep, and she bucked her hips, wanting more. He reached up, placed his index finger on her clit, and pressed down hard. Again she moaned and her hips gyrated, as she sucked him. His dick was in paradise, and he knew he couldn't last much longer. She was like a velvet vacuum cleaner, working him over. With his other hand, he reached around and rubbed her butt cheeks. They felt wonderful, so smooth, so curvy. She must have liked that, too, because she moaned louder and continued her onslaught on his dick, sucking, sucking . . . Finally he could stand it no longer. He felt the blood rushing, he felt himself ready to erupt, and then he did. He gushed into her mouth, and she took all of his cream in, and swallowed it. Then she cleaned his tip, licking him like a lollipop. She got on her hands and knees. "How was that, cutie?" "I think I died and went to heaven," he said. She laughed. "But . . . you didn't . . ." She leaned down, her lustrous hair falling into his face, and kissed him. "Oh, I will, cutie. Don't worry. I'm sure I will." Just then, a loud meow from down the hall. And then a voice, cooing, in the distance. . . "Aww, that's right, Conan. Just let Mommy go to the bathroom, okay?" Jeanine! Going to the bathroom! That meant she'd need to walk right by the door to the guest room. He fought hard, tried to think. Had Kim left anything outside this room? Her clothes! What had she done with them? "Oops." She giggled. "They're still in the bathroom." Shit! But from the sounds of it, Jeanine was still in the kitchen, hadn't even come into the hall yet. Maybe she needed to go to the bathroom, but if Conan, his royal majesty, wanted some loving first, of course he was going to get it. Only one chance. He needed to race to the bathroom before Jeanine could see him, retrieve Kim's clothes, and then get back into the guest room again. And then turn out the light, be deathly still, and wait it out. He tiptoed to the door, cracked it open, and peaked out. No sign of Jeanine, and from the sounds of it, Conan was demanding attention in the kitchen. It was now or never. He flicked off the light in the guest room, and, fully naked, darted into the bathroom. Kim's clothes were piled in a heap on the floor. He gathered them up, checked the shower itself. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Then he sniffed. The air still smelled too fresh in here, that after-shower aroma lingering. He just hoped his wife was too tired, too out of it, to notice. . . . As he rushed back into the hall, he heard Jeanine's voice: "Just give me a minute, baby, just give Mommy one little bitty minute, okay?" He opened the guest room door, darted inside, and closed it. Just as it clicked shut, he heard Jeanine's footsteps entering the hall. He'd just made it. Not uttering a breath, he silently walked away from the door, gently placed Kim's clothes on the floor, then joined her on the bed. In the darkness, he felt her fingers wrap themselves around his dick. She squeezed him, stroked him, and he grew hard again. From the bathroom, he heard the toilet flushing, then the water running from the faucet. Kim continued to stroke his dick, and he reached for her, groping, until he located her vagina. He inserted two fingers into her moistness, and she moaned. Then he felt her lips lock onto his, and they kissed, their tongues doing a ballet. Beyond the door, he heard footsteps again, and Jeanine's voice, right there! "Hi, sweetie! You couldn't wait to see Mommy again, could you? Could you?" And then a purr, a meow. . . and footsteps retreating, growing softer . . . . He breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently Jeanine suspected nothing. Still, he wasn't in the clear yet. What if she looked for him in his office and didn't find him there? What if—? "That's right, Conan, yeah, yeah . . ." He heard kisses, smooches was more like it. And then he realized. He had nothing to worry about. Jeanine wouldn't look for him. She only had eyes for the cat. She'd probably take Conan up to bed with her, and snuggle up with him. Kim's fingers on his dick were getting him too close to another orgasm. He didn't want to cum again until he was inside of her. . . . But that reminded him . . . his condoms were upstairs, in the bedroom! There was no way he could get to them without Jeanine seeing him. That thought caused him to deflate a little, even with Kim still kissing him and stroking him. She evidently took note, breaking the kiss. "Something wrong, cutie?" she asked. He got up, turned the light back on. She was far too beautiful to be concealed by darkness. It surprised him how un-self-conscious he felt with her now. Who would have ever imagined that he could be standing before a beautiful blonde, at least fifteen years younger than him, and not feel a hint of worry, unease? Even an hour ago, he wouldn't have deemed it possible. But he felt so comfortable with her, so masculine. She'd brought out his confidence more in one night than Jeanine had done in twenty years. He looked down, smiled sheepishly. "No. It's just . . . well. I don't want to sound like a creep, but my condoms are upstairs. There's no way I can . . ." She hopped off the bed, approached him, put her arms around his neck. "That's not a problem, cutie. I trust you. You'll know when you're about to cum, right?" He nodded. "Well, just pull out when you feel it coming." She kissed him. "Besides, I'm on the pill anyways," she added with a giggle. That was a relief. But still, wasn't she worried? She didn't know if he was clean. Come to think of it, he didn't know if she was. As if reading his mind, she said, "Don't worry, Jim. I'm disease-free. I just got tested last week." He believed her. Even if he didn't, he no longer cared. For years he thought with his head. Just this once, he wanted to think with his dick. "And I'm not worried about you, cutie," she went on. "Something tells me you're as clean as a guy can be." "Ain't that the truth," he said. "Then what are we waiting for?" she said, and led him to the bed. But somehow, the bed no longer felt right. This was a night for high adventure, for recklessness, for driving on icy roads, for making love to twenty-year-old strangers, for severing vows he never thought he'd break. "I have a better idea," he said. ♣ His home office, where he always worked hard, thought ahead, worked on equations and code and logic. The epitome of his routine, mundane existence. He wanted her right there, in his chair. When he sat at that chair and worked on some tedious project next week or next month or next year, he wanted to think back to tonight, when he and this beautiful young woman had let their passions run wild. . . . He sat down in his chair, and she climbed onto his lap, facing him. Without hesitating, she positioned herself just so, and slid down on his hard, throbbing penis. "Mmmm," she said. "Feels so nice." He pulled her closer, kissed her, and they continued to kiss as she made love to him, rising and falling on his dick, using her feet on the ground to support her body weight. Rising and falling, up, down, up, down, her slick vaginal walls gripping onto him like a silk glove. All the while, their tongues played with each other, as they kissed and moaned into each other's mouths. Then she threw her head back and he could tell she was about to cum. Her body grew taut and rigid, the nerve endings set to explode. Would she scream? He couldn't risk it. "Kiss me," he said, frantically. "Cum while we kiss." She did, and a moment later, she screamed down his throat. When she went limp seconds later, she continued kissing him, slowly now, softly, their lips wet, moist. Gentle now, kissing, kissing, as she continued to make love to him, not stopping, her hips still gyrating, up and down, up and down. And in rhythm, eventually the pace picked up again, and now it was he who was close to erupting. . . . "Wait," he said. "I'm getting too close. And I don't want it to end yet." She responded with another long, slow kiss. She stopped bucking her hips, and simply milked him for a while. They just sat there, in each other's arms, kissing, holding each other, as he rested his penis inside of her. "I love my wife, you know," he said then, breaking the kiss. "I really do. I guess you wouldn't believe that, after all this." "You don't have to explain yourself to me, Jim. I mean, I was the one who started this, remember?" He gave a half-smile. "True. But I didn't really resist, did I?" She gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Well, you tried. You were gonna throw me back outside into the cold night." She playfully pouted. And he kissed her. He couldn't kiss her enough. Jeanine had never been a passionate kisser, never had really gotten into it. It was so nice to be with someone who loved to kiss as much as he did. "Yeah," he said. "I tried. But how could I resist you, Kim? I mean, how could any guy?" "Aww, thank you, cutie. That's sweet." Another kiss, another round of tongue-dancing. Still he was inside of her, and still she was not moving her hips, just milking him, accepting him, her moistness coating his penis. . . . . "What about you?" he said. "Anyone special in your life?" She smiled, shook her head. "I don't have time to get involved with a serious relationship right now. Maybe in a few years. But not now. So I'm free." She ran her fingers through his hair, what was left of it anyway, and he leaned forward and took a nipple in his mouth. He sucked on it, nibbled on it, and that got her moving again. Slowly she began to gyrate her hips. "Mmm," she said. "I like that, Jim. Don't stop." He didn't. He continued to nibble, to suck, to play. She threw her head back, moaned. And . . . the telephone rang! "Fuck!" he said. She laughed. "Must be AAA." She got up, ran to the kitchen, answered the phone on the third ring. He realized, too late—what if that was someone they knew calling? What would they think, hearing a strange female voice answering? But who would call now? It was after one o'clock in the morning now . . . surely it was AAA. She came back into the office a minute later. "They said they're on their way. They were able to dispatch someone earlier than they expected. Should be here in fifteen minutes." He felt deflated at the news. And she looked the same way. "Well, we still have a few minutes," he said. "Let's make the most of them!" He led her to the living room sofa. Better to be close to the door, the front of the house, he figured, so when AAA came, they'd see the headlights through the windows. But in the meantime . . . She sat back, leaning against the cushions, and he mounted her, his knees on either side of her thighs, resting on the sofa. He was proud of himself. He didn't realize he was so nimble, so agile. He leaned in, kissed her, and entered her. Since they didn't have much time, he went at a good pace, thrusting in and out as fast as he could. She responded in kind, meeting his thrusts with her hips, the two of them in perfect sync, perfect rhythm. "Mmmmmm," she said. "That feels so good." She was breathing fast, choppy, and so was he. Every time he inserted his penis to the hilt, he made sure to grind his pelvic bone hard against her clitoris, stimulating her all the more. This was a technique he'd learned in a lovemaking book he had purchased a couple of years ago. Up until that time, Jeanine had never cum with his dick inside of her. But when he started to practice the pelvis-against-the-clit maneuver, the change was amazing. She began cumming regularly. At least for a while. Until Conan had entered the picture. Then the cumming had ceased, right along with the sex. "Oh yes, yes," Kim whined, her lips parted, her head turning back and forth, blonde hair tossing about like straw in the wind. "Ohhhh." Her body tightened up, grew rigid again, and he knew what was coming. Just in time, he put his hand over her mouth and she shrieked into it. "Sorry, beautiful," he said. "I had to." "I know." She had gone limp, sweat beaded on her forehead. But she clearly wanted to get him off, too. So she began to buck her hips again, meeting his thrusts, urging him to go faster, faster. . . . And he did. He was pounding her now, getting closer. He could feel the energy, the force, racing through him, surging, surging into his penis. . . . He pulled out, and instantly she grabbed his dick, put it in her mouth, and sucked him. It didn't take long. He came hard, shooting his fluid into her mouth, groaning, feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Release. Sweet release. Was there anything like it? ♣ "That was awesome, Jim," she said. They were both fully clothed again, standing at the door, waiting for the headlights. "You were great." "And you," he said. "Like I said, I love my wife. But my God, tonight was the best I ever had." He French-kissed her, wanting it to last, to linger. She tasted so sweet. "You know," she said. "If you want to, I'd love to do this again sometime." He thought about it. No. He'd better not. This was one of the best nights of his life—he couldn't ever remember feeling so desired, so sexy, so manly. But he shouldn't make it a habit. She almost looked like she was going to cry. "I want to, Kim, believe me," he said. "But really. We both know this was wrong. To keep it up would be even worse." She was about to say something, but just then there was a glare of headlights, the whirr of a motor. "I guess they're here," he said. "Yeah." He kissed her again, a nice, long, lingering kiss. "Good-bye,. Kim. And thank you." She nodded, and he opened the door for her. She took a step out, paused, then stepped back inside again. "Do you have something I can write on? A piece of note paper or something? Oh, and something to write with, too?" She smiled. "Kim . . ." "Look, I have to go, Jim. I need to hurry here, okay? I just need to leave you with something." He knew what she must be up to, but he gave her the pen and paper anyway. She scribbled something quickly, smiled, turned the piece of paper over, wrote something else on the other side, turned it over again, and then handed it to him. She kissed him then, and left. After he had closed the door, he saw what she had written . . . "Ur a gr8t guy, Jim. And an awesome lover. Ur wife is crazy for not keeping u happy! But ur right. We shouldn't do this again." Then there was an arrow, pointing to the other side. He turned the slip of paper over. "But who gives a shit??? Call me. I'll get that new battery for my cell 2mor." And after that she had scrawled her number. He walked into his office. To the trash bin. All he had to do was rip the sheet into shreds, and toss it. He hadn't committed her number to memory. He would forget it. Over and done with. He crumpled it into a ball, was about to tear it apart. Bu then he felt a furry body rub against his leg. Conan. Jeanine must have fallen back to sleep quickly, and Conan still wanted attention. If his mommy wasn't available, he could always come to Papa James. "Meow," Conan said, looking up at him, his cat-eyes glowing in the gloom of the office. Who's That Knocking at My Door? "You know something, Conan? You're right. Who gives a shit! Indeed. Thanks for the advice, pal." With that, he smoothed out the slip of paper, looked again at what Kim had written, and smiled a wide, toothy smile. Then he folded it neatly, and put it in his pocket. . .