10 comments/ 13003 views/ 4 favorites Deep Studies Pt. 01 By: Haunting Chapter One Immersed in typing, I barely heard the sound of a pickup pulling up. Faintly I also registered the sounds of two doors closing outside and then a, more distant, third. I figured it was just the neighbors. "Knock...knock...knock..." sounded tentatively at my front door. "Yes?" I responded still typing. "Knock...knock...knock..." sounded out again a few moments later. "Yes? Who is it?" I said a little louder...still typing...but now getting a bit annoyed. "Knock...knock...knock..." "Dammit! What in the hell do you want?!" I demanded while flinging open the heavy wooden door. "Mr. Jacob! Not a good start. Be nice. This is Sister Jones and this is Sister Frank. Remember? I told you that we were going to stop by today for a Book of Orson study." said Mary. "Oh...yeah. Shit! Sorry about that little fuck up with my yelling at you, ladies." "Mr. Jacob! Quit swearing. They're only 18 year old girls..." "Geez! Give it a fucking rest, Mrs. Chandler. I told you to expect me to be myself and if you, and the Sisters, couldn't handle it not to bother coming over. You clearly said, and I quote, 'No problem.' Remember? Besides, since when do invited guests tell someone else what to do...in their own house?" Mary blushed and mumbled a quick apology. "What was that, Mrs. Chandler? I didn't quite hear you." "I'm sincerely sorry for my rudeness, Mr. Jacob. Please forgive me." she managed still blushing. "Ummm...Mike...Mr. Jacob...may we come in?" Mary asked. "Oh...yes...of course! Now who's being rude? Come on in, ladies...if you dare." Sister Jones and Sister Frank looked quickly to Mary for direction and she nodded and guided them inside. Mary had informed me at work that any formal group study of the Orsons in a person's home required strict formality at all times. So, for today, it was Mr. Jacob and Mrs. Chandler instead of Mike and Mary. I stood aside quickly taking in the official attire of the two neophytes and my married co-worker, Mary. I offered to take Mary's calf-length coat. "Bastard!" Mary whispered to me as she handed me her wrap, pinching my bicep. I just grinned. The Sisters each had on matching colorful skirts that came to knee length and white cotton blouses emblazoned with their black and white engraved name tags. They wore matching back packs with wide padded straps that pulled their shoulders back and nicely presented their pert young breasts pressing against their matching wool sweaters. However, I had eyes only for Mary. Mrs. Chandler had on the older style uniform of the official Orson's proselytizing attire...a calf-length navy blue skirt, black low heels, white blouse, and open navy-blue sweater that did nothing to hide her magnificent body twitching and swishing past my admiring eyes. Mary also wore a hint of some very expensive French perfume. Yum! Her outfit today was in stark contrast to how she usually dressed at work. Normally she dressed with the casual flamboyant eclecticism of a modernish hippie chick...meaning whatever. However, the truth is, it doesn't really matter what she chooses to wear since Mary is a mature married fox...a stunning natural beauty. Mary was 36 and stood about five foot three. She had big tits, a slender waist, and a big shapely ass to die for. Her lustrous strawberry-blond hair varied in length over the years since, from time to time, she liked to donate her thick wavy locks to charitable groups but it now hung past her shoulder blades in the back and just below nipple length in the front...lovely. She has been a co-worker of mine for the past 6 years, married for 15 years (though she had, surprisingly, recently confessed to me that her marriage was sometimes rocky), and had 2 teenaged children. At work, early on, when we met briefly at the change of our shifts Mary eventually revealed to me that she was an Orson. I groaned, inwardly, expecting a stodgy holier-than-thou personality to go with such a conservative belief system. However, what I actually found out about her was quite the opposite. Mary had some surprisingly charming mannerisms and a quirky personality that sparkled through her outward Orsonisms. Sure she could be preachy but Mary also loved to tell me funny stories about her Civil War reenactment adventures when she dressed as a basket-carrying nun schmoozing with the crowd for donations. Mrs. Chandler particularly liked to relate stories about a number of Weird Henry concerts she had been to, even taking her brood to meeting him in person in the big city. In fact, as the years passed and we got to know each other better, our three or four minute conversations became longer and edgier. Sometimes I knew Mrs. Chandler purposely would tell me things that she thought might surprise me and vice versa with me trying to shake her confident Orson calm with some outrageous statement about her faith and/or faith's founders. Ironically, the thing that finally introduced sexual tension between us, was her Orson religion. When I showed a genuine curiosity about her faith Mary blossomed in friendliness and warmth. She then went out of her way to find stolen moments at work to share things about her eccentric interests, her group, and her family...sometimes these were almost intimate confessions. I also noticed that Mrs. Chandler's natural hypnotic strut took on a little extra swing to her hips when she was around me. I loved following her swaying sexy ass down a long aisle...tick, tock...tick, tock...tick, tock...yum! Of course, Mrs. Chandler knew that I was ogling her ass and, of course, I knew that she loved it. About this time we also began to physically, "accidentally", bump into each other. When we are occasionally loading the conveyor together and there is plenty of stooping and standing to do Mrs. Chandler seems to like it best when I just "happen" to bump up against her ass with my groin instead of against her hip and thigh. My favorite touching episode, however, was when we each rounded a corner in a hurry and collided, front to front. The sensation of her big breasts, firm belly, and thighs plastered momentarily against me is engraved deeply into my memory. Instead of being highly embarrassed, unflustered Mary slid slowly to the side, smiled at me, and then continued on her way....tick, tock...tick, tock...tick, tock...putting that little extra swish into her swaying womanly hips. Damn! One day at an afternoon coffee break I brought up the subject of the Orsons' sacred belief in multiple marriages. Mary's voice became guarded and her body tensed slightly. However, when I stated my approval by saying that polygamy is normal in many global societies and, not only that, but in a few ancient cultures women were married to, or coupled with, multiple husbands (polyandry)...Mrs. Chandler began openly flirting with me. One day, trying to convince me about her groups' forward thinking about women, Mary started suggesting that I should have a study soon with two of the newest neophytes in the area, two 18 year old young ladies from California, if she came along as their mentor. At that point I started having much more intense sexual fantasies about sexy Mrs. Chandler actually visiting my house...alone. At Christmas time I told Mary about my holiday game I played with my dates called Find the Mistletoe. I didn't give her any lurid details but when I told her, "What happens under the mistletoe stays under the mistletoe." that's when I first saw her trademark lusty sneer appear. Her involuntary response informed me that Mary enjoyed an active sexual imagination. A lovely, and growing, sexual tension now hung between us making our flirty conversations and brief touches even edgier. Married Mrs. Chandler never shied away from my touch and I casually, but deliberately, touched her more often, in different places, beginning to push that edge too. Soon she started touching me back. One day at lunch, with her hand resting briefly on mine and our knees pressed together under the little table, Mary mentioned recently spending a day off helping a male friend thoroughly clean part of his house after his younger sister had moved out. In the process, they found hard evidence of her partying, used condoms, and a sticky used vibrator that still actually worked when she turned it on. I'm not sure if Mary told me about her little volunteer activity to try to impress me with her frankness, to attempt to shock me, or deliberately turn me on but my mental image of the conservative Orson Mrs. Chandler alone with a divorced man in one of his bedrooms with his daughter's sticky funky-smelling used vibrator buzzing in one gloved hand and a recently used condom dangling from the fingers of the other gloved hand gave me an abrupt hard on that I had to slyly adjust under the table and then try to disguise with my lunchbox when we got up to go back to work. I obviously wasn't too successful since Mrs. Chandler pointedly looked at my "hidden" cock then flashed one of her trademark lusty sneering grins as she turned to go. Soon after her tantalizing story I agreed to meet the young Orson neophytes, and Mrs. Chandler, for a study at my house. Meanwhile, back in the present, Mary's big rolling ass brought up the rear of their tightly-clustered group as I directed them toward the comfortable sun room in the back of my house. As we walked through my house, with occasional guidance from me, I saw Mrs. Chandler adjust her glasses a couple of times, peering quickly sideways at a couple of the prominent nudes that I had drawn years ago. The Orson neophyte charges in front of her kept their eyes focused straight ahead, for the most part...no doubt Mary had carefully schooled them on what to expect and how to handle themselves. Mary had never been in my house but knew, sort of, what to expect from some of our more unguarded conversations. Also, when she turned to stare at the drawings she gave me a delicious profile view of her lovely jiggling knockers swaying heavily under her blouse. Yum...again! Most of our brief conversations at work usually ended with her making a not-so-subtle comment about her religious group, Orsons, a group I really had no interest in joining but they were intriguing enough to be a focus for some of my online research efforts. As we got to know each other better in the workplace some of Mary's conversations began to seem almost flirty and, at times, I saw her responding to some of my frank comments with a quick barely-hidden lusty sneer. Sometimes at work she makes me drool when she wears skin tight thin t-shirts and tight jeans. I don't think she consciously does it to advertise since she seems naturally oblivious to her seductive nature that surfaces now and then. Married, or not, 35 definitely places a female in the peak of her sexual prime. I finally gave in to her continued suggestions about talking directly about their Orson beliefs with the new Sisters who had been assigned to this area...if she came along for their encouragement and protection. However, Mary and I both knew that her main purpose in being here was to see where our flirting might lead and this study gave her, a married woman, the perfect opportunity to, publically, visit my home. We all settled into our seats in the sunroom. I took the leather recliner, Mary and the Sisters on the big comfortable leather couch...Mrs. Chandler in the middle like a hovering mother hen with the uneasy Sisters flanking her. The south-facing windows extruded the winter sunshine into radiated rectangles of streaming golden light that warmed the textured charcoal-gray slate flooring. The young Sisters carefully divested themselves of their backpacks, placing them on the floor beside their feet. I noticed Sister Frank glance at the glossy cover of a skin mag on the lamp table beside her...then openly gawk at the naked, sweaty, Lesbian couple locked in enthusiastic sexual combat. Earlier in the week I had purposely sprinkled a few erotic "teasers" around the house to keep this group of Orson visitors on edge. Shame on me! ;-) Blushing, Sister Frank tore her eyes away from the magazine and turned to stare at Mrs. Chandler. Mary just nodded and pointed at Sister Frank's backpack with her chin, silently instructing her to stay focused. "Ladies? Would any of you care for some juice, mineral water, iced decaf coffee, iced decaf tea or, possibly, an organic wheat scone?" I offered being careful to make their choices free of caffeine and hot drinks as their particular faith requires. "No, thank you." the Sister's politely echoed, Sister Frank still glanced sideways at the nearby porn mag. Mary noticed the Sister's continued distraction so lightly tapped her on the shoulder drawing her attention back to center. Mrs. Chandler just shook her head at my beverage offer...such a lovely head with a long slender neck, red full lips, dimples in both cheeks, almost frameless glasses shielding her piercing green eyes and long curling lashes. Mary nudged one of the fidgeting Sisters. She cleared her throat while digging inside of her black backpack. Sister Jones found what she was looking for and, smiling shyly, handed me a colorful info brochure about the Orsons. I took it and glanced at a few of the pages then smiled to myself as an extended silence became uncomfortable. Mary nudged the other Sister nearest the skin mag who jumped. "Oh...oh, yeah...yes. Mr. Jacob, would you care to pray?" "Umm...no. You see, I'm sort of out of practice these days. Why don't you, young lady?" Sister Frank then began, in earnest, and I looked up to find Mrs. Chandler staring at an aged sculpture in the corner by my fake fireplace. The sculpture is a large, 1/2 scale, resin version of "The Kiss" by Rodin. When I have it on, like today, the light of the flickering blue "flames" enhances the ambient sunlight subtlety creating muted shadows that make the chiseled lovers' hands almost seem to move over each other's naked sculpted bodies and their embracing kiss look...animated...intense. I love the piece...and so, it seems, does Mary. I continued gazing at her while Sister Frank droned on until Mrs. Chandler's eyes slowly drifted away from the sculpture until they, eventually, found mine. She blushed and immediately dropped her head into praying posture, but not before I had noticed that her luscious lips had twisted into her trademark lusty little sneer which quickly disappeared. I continued looking at Mary while Sister Frank finished. Mary, sensing my continued attention, blushed deeper...the flush spreading to her neck. So...lovely! Sister Frank finally finished her prayer and Sister Jones distributed similar pamphlets to each of the ladies. She suggested we all start at page one alternately reading each paragraph. "Sigh. Sister Jones...can't I just ask you some questions I have about the Orsons and one of you just give me direct answers?" "Well...no. You see we have been carefully instructed by our trainers to proceed through our first meeting in precisely this way." she said, nervously glancing at Mrs. Chandler for support. Mary smiled and nodded her assurance to the young lady. I sighed again, loudly this time, but the now-recovered Mary shot me a withering look so I reluctantly accepted my temporary fate with a wry grin. Sister Jones began, followed by Mrs. Chandler, followed by Sister Frank, then me...last. Each paragraph of their brochure was carefully scripted to direct the seeker, me in this case, to a foundational aspect of the Orson belief. Midway through the second round I noticed Mary's wandering eyes (she must have been through this same scenario hundreds of times in the past with her own training and two-year outreach). "Why don't you take a quick look around the downstairs, Mrs. Chandler. I don't mind." I suggested. "Don't you think your Sisters are safe with me? You know that I have quite a bit of unusual art and cultural artifacts that I have acquired during my travels." "Well, I'm not sure that's a good idea, Mr. Jacob. After all, this is their first house call and, to be quite frank, Mike...erm...Mr. Jacob, sometimes you can be a real handful."" "They are doing just fine. Right, Sisters?" The Orson neophytes glanced at each other and both enthusiastically nodded, eager to be on their own with such a challenging prospect...me. "Ok then. Just let me know if you need me, Sisters. I'll be nearby looking at some of Mr. Jacob's art." With that settled the very sexy Mrs. Chandler got up giving me a wonderful view of her big ass stretching the hell out of her conservative skirt. Turning near the doorway, "Be good!" she mouthed silently through her full lips and then walked away with a natural strut that, even now, made my dick quiver and thicken. I barely managed to endure two more of the Sisters' scripted paragraphs. When it was again my turn to read I took the opportunity to insist on asking two very difficult questions that Mary, in the past, either couldn't or wouldn't answer, questions that I knew would stump these two neophytes for quite some time. "Well...we probably should stick to our training but...if it's ok with you, Mr. Jacob, we'll look them up online." said Sister Jones glancing at Sister Frank who nervously nodded. "You do that, young ladies. I'm thirsty. Sure I can't get you both something?" "Well...a glass of juice would be awfully nice of you." said Sister Frank. Sister Jones already had her nose buried in her smart phone and was quickly flicking through various windows. She didn't answer. "Be right back." I went out to the kitchen and opened a small can of some chilled pineapple banana juice and poured it into a heavy cut-crystal tumbler that I usually use for whiskey on the rocks. I briefly looked around for Mrs. Chandler on the way back but didn't see her. When I reentered the sunroom I saw that Sister Jones still was immersed in her phone. Sister Frank, on the other hand, was leaning over the arm of the couch pulling up the corner of the cover of the Lesbian magazine and peering inside. Her skirt had pulled up to mid-thigh. "Here ya go." I said, placing her fruit drink on a stone and cork coaster just behind her outstretched arm. She jumped and pulled her hand back like it was scalded. Blushing furiously, Sister Frank whipped around to her face-forward seated position adjusting her skirt but not before I had a close up view of her hot-pink panties. Naughty, naughty, Sister Frank. "Thank you." she whispered. "Anytime, Sister Frank. Enjoy." "Anything yet?" I asked Sister Jones who was still searching her phone. She didn't answer until Sister Frank, still blushing, nudged her. "Hmmm...what?" "Anything for me?" I asked with an amused grin. "Not yet, Sir. Could we have just a few more minutes, please?" "Take all the time you need, girls. Just holler when you're ready. Mrs. Chandler and I will be somewhere downstairs examining one of my collections." I said heading off in search of Mary. No Mary in the kitchen or dining room or the living room. Hmmm...where could she be? Upstairs already? Nah...I would have heard her on the wooden steps and, flirty or not, the married Mrs. Chandler wouldn't dare enter my bedroom sanctuary on her own with the two young neophytes hanging around...or would she? "Mrs. Chandler? Where are you?" I asked in a low voice rounding the corner near the downstairs bathroom and literally collided with her hip near the bottom of the staircase leading upstairs. "Careful!" I warned grabbing her wobbling bent-over form around the waist so she wouldn't hit her delicate face on the stairs. Apparently she had obviously been taking a very close look at one of my graphite architectural conceptual drawings that resembles a bamboo and wire structure containing the cross section of a mature man's toolset...bloated erect cock and dangling balls. Deep Studies Pt. 01 Our abrupt physical contact caused Mrs. Chandler to grab onto one of the steps with both hands for support while simultaneously shoving her big ass backwards onto my groin. "Damn!" we both said simultaneously...for two very different reasons...Mary's exclamation from outright surprise and mine from igniting fleshly lust. Thinking quickly, to further up the ante, I took advantage of the moment and pointed at the fake plastic mistletoe hanging directly above us and leaned in...puckering up for a kiss. Mrs. Chandler's face immediately became a wonderful study of confusion as her mind, and ample body, wrestled with this physical dilemma. Should she respond to my overtures for a kiss out of cultural politeness, even though it was now mid-March...or shove me away, loudly, for the sake of her prescribed moral values but then draw unwanted attention from the Sisters in the sunroom? Her gorgeous green eyes flicked from my eyes to my mouth and she licked her lips...but she didn't turn her head away. I kept my groin pressed tightly against her luscious ass encased in her tightened blue skirt and neared my goal...her lips. Mary's eyes widened as she felt my lips press against hers. I closed my eyes as our lips sealed and flattened, enjoying the overwhelming sensations of her fertile feminine lushness. She froze and I kept my lips pressed against hers for a few seconds...then a few seconds more. "Umphhhh..." she groaned, and struggled briefly, but I steadied her lovely head with one hand and held our kiss...for another 5 seconds...then 10...then 20. I felt her mouth, and ample body, begin to relax. When I felt Mary start to tense up again I broke our kiss. "Mike...what are you...we...doing? I can't do this...especially now...not with my Sisters in your sunroom." she whispered. "I told you at work, months ago, that we could play "Find-the-Mistletoe" whenever you finally decided to stop by my house, Mary. Remember? No more waiting." I whispered back and kissed her again trying to worm my tongue in through her tightly clenched teeth. "Stop it, Mr. Jacob!" she hissed formally. "There are two young girls out there who will permanently sink my active Orson membership if they find us like this. I would be shunned." Mary whispered against my lips. "Don't play coy with me, you married bitch! You want...no, need...this as much as I do. No more fucking flirting, Mary. We both know that the real reason you are in my house right now is that you want to get your neglected married cunt royally stretched and fucked...by me...by the hard cock right now pressing against your wonderful ass! No more games!" and I shoved my growing cock harder against her clothed pussy and groped her big dangling tits. "Arhhhh...damn you, Mike!" she groaned and her married tongue found mine. With her body's buried passion betraying her words, she attacked me with her own lips, and penetrating tongue, leaving me...breathless. "Mr. Jacob? Mrs. Chandler?" we heard one of the Sisters call out from the sunroom. "Stay!" I commanded against Mary's lips and thrust my hand up high under her tight skirt until I found her wet silky panties. "I can't stay...I...I'm married!" she responded still kissing me back. "Stay!" I insisted sliding my fingers under the edge of her tight panties and found a thick tangle of pubic hair and then Mary's hot slippery pussy lips. "Ooooh! Mmmmm..." she groaned. "Mr. Jacob? Mrs. Chandler?" from nearer accompanied by hesitant approaching footsteps from sensible shoes. "Fuck! I...don't know..." she whispered hoarsely. "Stay, your wild little pussy is shouting out to me that she wants to be bad...real bad!" I whispered back with two of my probing penetrating fingers stretching her tight and, now extremely wet, cunt. "Mr. Jacob?" came from somewhere in the adjacent room...very near. "Ok...OK! I'll stay. Now let me go!" Mrs. Chandler hissed in a tense barely-audible whisper. I immediately released her and took a step backwards into the front room, almost bowling over both Sister Jones and Sister Frank. Obviously flustered but recovering quite quickly, Mary slowly emerged from the shadow of the stairwell. "I was just explaining one of my earliest college drawings that seemed to make Mrs. Chandler a bit uncomfortable. So...what did you two young women find for me?" I asked, casually thrusting my slickened fingers into my right front pocket to hide the heady musky scent of Mary's horny married cunt. "I think that we need to go and consult with the elders of our group, Mr. Jacob. Your questions took us by surprise and are, frankly, out of our depth." Sister Jones said, looking slightly askance at the still flushed Mrs. Chandler...and myself. "I warned you, Sisters. Mr. Jacob is very good at taking people by surprise." Mary said with a wry grin. "He seems to do it all the time." "Well...alrighty then. You do just that, young ladies. Get back to me when you have the answers. I have an open door policy at my house...really. My better friends know I always keep my deck door unlocked for their benefit when I'm not home. I actually enjoy having visitors, despite what I sounded like earlier at the door. When I am writing I can get a bit...testy...if interrupted. So...stop by anytime, ladies...no calls necessary." I said while inhaling deeply, thoroughly enjoying the Siren scents of Mrs. Chandler's aroused pussy drifting from the slightly darker spot on the back of her navy blue skirt...and from my front pocket. I escorted them all to the front door and started saying goodbye. "Ummm...Mr. Jacob?" Sister Jones said from the door step. "Yes?" "Let's have a closing prayer..." and she started bowing her head. "Oh...let's not." I said borrowing a line from one of my favorite movies. Bye, ladies!" I said and secretly goosed the trailing Mary out the door making her squeak and the Sisters quickly retreat before her. At the front door I watched them gather in a loose group by the front of the pickup and talk for awhile, quite awhile actually. Then the younger Sisters tossed their backpacks into the backseat of their truck's king cab and climbed in while Mary strutted toward her own car. Tic...toc...tic..toc...tic...toc! What an ass! DAMN!" Feeling horny Mary's married cunt immediately respond to my fingers with a flood then, later, smelling her drooling slippery sex lips moving past me out my front door was...achingly painful. To have been so close to a hot sexual romp with sexy Mrs. Chandler and then watch those glorious hips strutting away from me was almost unbearable. We had both waited so long for this afternoon together in my house and now it was sliding past us both. I wanted to call out to her to Mary to come back inside but I couldn't. "Damn!" Mary started up her sensible soccer-mom minivan, waved at the girls, then me, and drove off. The Sisters carefully backed out into the road, Sister Frank waving and smiling sweetly, and drove off in the opposite direction. Closing the door behind me I went over to the window and watched Mrs. Chandler's red van round the corner and disappear. I was so horned up that I felt like immediately jacking off but didn't because of Mary's hot-and-bothered whispered promise to stay. I sat down at my desk and rebooted the laptop. I opened the file I was working on and then waited for about 10 minutes, expecting a knock at my front door. My hard on wilted some but I still waited, glancing at a couple of newsfeeds to pass the time. 15 minutes later...still no Mary. "Fuck! She must have changed her mind. We were so close! Dammit, Mary!" I said outloud. A half hour later I rubbed my shrunken cock through my jeans and then started slowly getting back into writing the story that I had been working on. After a couple of paragraphs I highlighted them and right-clicked to delete. All that was coming out of my fingertips was frothy insipid junk. I was way too distracted to write. I picked up my binoculars and raised it to my eyes...Mrs. Chandler's scent was still strong on my fingers. I glassed some of the flocks of migrating ducks riding the icy-cold waves near the center of the deep-blue lake. I also closely checked out one of the neighbor's wives who was pulling all the dead debris from her garden. Sexy Lori always bent over at the waist when she gardened, her long blond ponytail almost touching the ground, putting her generous cleavage, round young ass, and shielded puffy pussy on prominent display....yum! Then back to the ducks...but they were now gone. I focused on a few of the lake houses on the far shore but there was no shoreline activity to see on this late winter/early spring afternoon. Thinking a stiff drink might help me find my elusive muse I went out to the kitchen and opened the cupboard where I kept the liquor and brought out a bottle of aged whiskey. I poured a couple of shots into a red and white plastic cup and followed them with a healthy splash of red wine...my version of port. I took a long pull from the cup then sighed. "Dammit, Mary! We were so close...right there on the stairs. Why did you have to change your fucking mind??" I said out loud to no one, absently looking out my kitchen window. I took another long pull on my drink. Chapter Two "Oh? Who said I changed my mind! Tee hee." rang out from the sunroom. Goosebumps ran riot all over my body and I spit some of my port back into the cup. Wiping my mouth and ball sack tightening, I walked toward the sound of Mary's feminine voice. Mrs. Chandler sat demurely on my leather recliner beaming a not-so-innocent smile my way. She had her legs crossed and rhythmically bouncing one, dangling a black glossy high heel from her toes. "I always keep my word, Mr. Jacob...always...and you should know that by now." "Mary! What a fucking surprise. How the hell did you get back in here without me knowing?" "Well...remember how you've made a careful point, once or five times and even just now at your front door, to let me know that you always keep your deck door unlocked for your better friends? After I left I drove around for a few minutes to be sure that the Sisters were gone then parked my van beside the rows of lilac bushes in the next street over. I then walked through your back yard using those thick bushes for cover. I quietly opened the deck doors and snuck inside. " "Ahhh...that was quite clever of you, Mrs. Chandler. I know of a certain scented bush I want to sneak around in...with my naughty tongue." I said leaning toward her for a kiss. "Oh? You do, do you?" Mary said, her lips twisting into a leering smile. I paused just millimeters away from her mouth. "Want to finally play Find the Mistletoe with me, Mrs. Chandler"? She tilted her chin up causing her long tresses to drift backwards over her shoulders. She closed her sparkling eyes. So...lovely. "Yes, Mr. Jacob." she whispered, brushing her full lips against mine in the lightest of kisses...a feathery caress. My heart leapt and my cock thickened. I held her head between my hands and kissed her back. Our emotions flared and we kissed like long lost lovers, reunited, suddenly...helplessly...adrift together on the Sea of Passion. I felt one of Mary's slim hands find my knee and slip upwards toward its goal. When it finally gripped the treasure it sought my hands found Mary's large breasts. Gasping, we drew back from our kiss and looked into each other's eyes. Then we kissed again, roughly, fondling and groping. "Knock...knock."...almost unheard. I was on my knees now with Mary's pleasuring hand still glued to my cock. Her hot breath filled my mouth while our wet tongues tangled and twirled. I unbuttoned the top of her blouse then reached inside finding cool bare flesh. Mrs. Chandler had, apparently, removed her bra back in her van. My! "Surprise! It wasn't just my practical Orson shoes that I changed." she giggled against my lips and began boldly unzipping my slacks. "Hahaha! You nasty married bitch!" "Knock...knock."...still distant but a little louder. I gasped when Mary's cool slim fingers wrapped themselves around my hot hungry meat. I discovered that her nipples were taut and long...just right for tweaking and nipping. Quickly bending to my task, I sucked hard. "Oooooh, that's so...wait...did you...?" Mary asked placing one of her hands on my forehead, pushing me back, stretching her breast then popping the wet nipple free. "Did I what?" I mumbled with my searching lips quickly back against her breast while also trying to find Mary's wild pussy that I knew was simmering under her skirt. "Knock...knock...knock."...louder still. "THAT'S FREAKING WHAT! SHIT, MIKE! Someone's at your front DOOR!" Mrs. Chandler exclaimed shoving me backwards onto my own floor, jumping up and struggling to quickly button her blouse. "Hahaha! Relax, Mary. Whoever it is will just go away if we ignore them." I said rising to my feet, trying to embrace her. "Knock...knock...knock!" "Well...this person obviously isn't going away and I'm a married Orson woman. SHIT!" she hissed shoving me away again, struggling to fasten the last button on her blouse. I grabbed her big ass and pulled her in tight kissing her firmly on the lips. She struggled a few seconds but then yielded sinking into the pleasure of forbidden lips. Even at this risky time Mrs. Chandler's neglected overheated pussy was still calling the shots and we became lost in the heat of the moment. "Knock! Knock! Knock!"...sounded loudly on the wooden door right beside us. We both jumped, Mary gasping and spinning away from my tight embrace. Then, not quite knowing what to do, Mrs. Chandler began turning in a tight little circle. I gripped her shoulders, stopping the spin. "Stay right here and calm yourself, Mary. At least let me see who it is before you decide to panic." I stepped to the heavy wooden door and peered through the peephole. The person outside was standing so close to the door that all I could see was her face. "Damn! Now you can panic. You won't friggin' believe who it is!" I whispered. "Who?" she whispered back. "Sister Frank...I think." "Knock! Knock! Knock!" "WHAAAA.....?!" she almost shrieked. I clapped my hand over her mouth and drew her struggling lush body toward the doorway leading to the kitchen. "Shhhh!" I commanded holding my finger to my lips. "Sister Frank will hear you! Get into the kitchen and stay there. I'll keep her outside at the door and just see what she wants. She probably just forgot something." Her beautiful green eyes wide with fright Mary nodded stiffly but didn't budge an inch. "Go!" I hissed gesturing toward the kitchen then turned and walked calmly toward the door. "Knock! Knock! Kno..." I partially opened the door. Almost yelling and pretending cranky annoyance I growled, "Who the hell is bugging...? Oh...it's you, Sister Frank. I almost didn't recognize you." (That last part was quite true since Sister Frank had obviously changed clothes since her first visit. Now, instead of the somewhat dowdy Orson uniform, she was wearing aerodynamic bicycling gear...a hot pink biking helmet and a dayglow-yellow painted-on bicycling suit that stretched from her neck to her ankles and also out to her wrists. It zipped from just below the hollow of her belly button to the top of her neck. A large brass ring hung from the top of the zipper... a ring that looks like it is just begging to be pulled...down! Damn! She also had her feet laced up in hot pink shoes that matched the color of her helmet.) "Sorry to bother you so soon, Mr. Jacob, but I think I might have left my favorite pen on your end table. Since I was biking past your house I thought I would stop by. I hope this is ok. Did you happen to notice it?" "Well...a pen?...maybe I should...wait here please..." "May I just come in and take a quick look?" Sister Jacob slithered in through the slight gap in the doorway and walked over to the couch, the clips on her hot pink biking shoes clacking loudly on the tile floor. I thought I heard a high-pitched muffled squeak from the kitchen. "Sorry to bother you so soon. I'll just be a sec..." said Sister Frank...this confident biking woman before me was a stark contrast from the earlier shy Orson neophyte visitor. Sister Frank bent over to look for her pen searching around near where the skin mag was still prominently displayed. In so doing her long black ponytail dangled to the tabletop while she presented me with the lovely view of a young toned ass...each cheek equally distinct under her biking suit...her pussy lips clearly outlined in the open "v" at the top of her thighs. She was obviously going commando. Turning her head to smile at me she winked and pushed the lesbian magazine slightly to the side. Damn! "Ummm...pardon my directness, Sister..." "Yes, Mr. Jacob?" "Isn't your biking gear a bit...well, more than a bit...revealing for your group's tastes?" "Oh. Tee hee hee! Of course not. I'm fully covered." "But...ummm...isn't it sort of...tight?" "Of course it is. Aerodynamic wind suits are great for cutting down on drag. We Orsons firmly believe that good nutrition and exercise lead to a healthy body to be proud of." "Of course...silly me." Now I was the one who was becoming confused...a rare emotion for me these days...especially in my own house. "Ah...here it is!" Sister Frank said triumphantly, holding the errant pen aloft displaying one of the best toned profiles that I had seen on anyone in ages, both her nipples erect against the taut thin fabric. "I told Sister Jones it was here. She told me to just forget it but I'd just hate to lose it. It's a gift from a boyfriend." Sister Frank clipped the pen onto her zipper's hoop while I just stood there like a blooming idiot not quite knowing what to do now. "I'm slightly out of breath after my first wind sprint. May I please sit down for a moment, Mr. Jacob?" "Of course." I said. Then coming to myself, "Pardon my rudeness. I should have noticed. Would you like a drink? More pineapple juice, maybe?" "I was thinking a cold beer, please...if you have any." I heard Mary's stifled squeak from the kitchen again followed by a barely audible shuffling. "Do you have a pet cat, Mr. Jacob?" "Why...yes I do." I lied. "That shy little pussy likes to hide and spy when strangers are in the house. Ummm...you did say a beer, right? I don't mean to be rude but don't you Orsons frown on alcohol consumption?" "Well...yes and no. If is imbibed for health reasons...then it's ok. Just for pleasure? No. In biking circles beer is a carb energizer drink and since I'll be riding a lot of miles this afternoon it's allowed." "Ooookaaay. I just wanted to be sure that I had heard you correctly. Be right back, Sister Frank." "Please call me, Katelynn, since this is no longer a formal meeting." "Katelynn, got it." This afternoon kept getting stranger and stranger. I didn't see a sign of the panicked Mary anywhere as I opened the fridge and grabbed a cold beer. "Bottle or glass, Sis...Katelynn?" I called out. "A bottle is just fine, thank you." Then, just for the hell of it, I grabbed two just to see what she would do. Walking back into the sunroom I almost dropped them both when I saw Katelynn bent completely over at the bookcase, looking closely at the titles on the bottom shelf. Her teen-aged ass was nowhere near as big as Mary's but still had a delightful shape of its own. Nice. Very nice. "Find anything interesting?" I asked setting both bottles on one of the shelves. "Tee hee. You're naughty. I only asked for one but thanks." she teased straightening a little but still continuing to examine my books. "Pardon me, again, but you're also a little naughty, Katelynn. I couldn't help but notice you checking out that Lesbian magazine earlier." I said, being frank. Deep Studies Pt. 01 Sister Frank slowly stood up and took a long pull on her beer. "Sorry about that, Mr. Jacob. In my Orson circles we don't see things like that...ever. I was just curious...that's all." she explained taking a sip from her beer. "I think that curiosity is always a good thing, young one." Once again she bent over and looked through some more titles. "She's 18...consenting age....just barely. DAMN!" I thought to myself. "I haven't heard of most of these, Mr. Jacob." "Since I'm calling you Katelynn please call me, Mike. I bought, and read, almost all of them before you were born but, just in case you're curious..." I teased "...you will even find your group's Book of Orson. Hahaha!" I settled back onto the couch still working on my port and watched Katelynn stand and chug the first beer while looking through the upper rows of books. She picked out one of the books and, then started on the second bottle while reading the back cover. "This small one about culture and erotic art in the Kathmandu Valley look quite interesting. I love foreign cultures. Have you read it, Mr. Ja...Mike." she corrected. "Well, yes...and I'm even one better." "Huh? You have a better book about the Hindu art?" "Hahaha! Well, maybe, but I keep that one on a private bookshelf upstairs (this time we both heard the distant squeak at the same time), but what I meant by "one better", Katelynn, is that, once upon a time, I lived among the outdoor erotic art in Kathmandu." "Naaah. Really? Naaah!" "Really, my dear. I lived there for two wonderful years." "Wow! I'd like to hear your Kathmandu stories sometime. Could I borrow this one, Mr...Mike?" "Of course....and take the magazine too....if you dare. However, I doubt if Sister Jones will approve of any of your choices here this afternoon, including coming over here alone." "Oh, thank you so much! I'll borrow both." she said surprising me. "And you're right, Sister Jones would be mortified. She'll never know. I may be a neophyte but I know how to keep secrets." she said with a flirty conspiratorial wink. "18 and buffed! DAMN!" I thought. Katelynn tilted her helmeted head back and drained her second beer. Watched some of the beer escape at the corner of her mouth and run down her neck. She carefully put both empties on the floor near the coffee table, and then turned to go. "So soon? Do you need a bag, Katelynn?" "Yes. I do need to head out. I have 30 miles ahead of me yet. These will easily fit inside my bike bag. Thank you for the beer and the reading material, Mike. Time to ride." "Stop back anytime. Don't forget about my unlocked door, young lady. I always keep my fridge stocked with cold beer." I flirted. "I have tons of stories about living in Asia I love to tell, especially to someone who hasn't already heard them. Keep those as long as you want." "Bye, Mr...Mike. Oh...maybe next time your shy little pussy will want to come out and play." "Next time?! DAMN! I'd like to be the one playing with your young tight pussy, Katelynn."...to myself. "Good riding!" I stood at the open back door watching her clump her way toward the front of the house. Then I shut the door and immediately began searching for Mary. Through the front windows I saw Katelynn finish zipping the books into her bike bag then smoothly straddle her bicycle's high-tech frame. She snapped a metal cleat into one of the bike pedals and pushed off with the other foot, quickly snapping it in as well. Sister Frank rode away with powerful accelerating strokes...her head down and her ass up. I grabbed my binoculars and watched her thighs flexing and raised ass swaying until, in a yellow/pink blur, she flashed around the corner near the lake. "MARY! Where the fuck are you?" Chapter Three "Is Sister Frank finally gone?" I heard, muffled, through the closet door under the stairs. "Of course she is or I wouldn't be yelling for you. Now wasn't she a helluva surprise!" Mary launched herself out of the tight little closet, in the process knocking one of my framed Buddhist yab yums to the floor. She slapped my face...hard. "What was that for?" I asked rubbing my cheek. Green eyes flashing fire she slapped me again on the other cheek, harder this time. "Ow! What the fuck do you think you're doing, Mrs. Chandler? Knock it off, dammit!" I said picking up the fallen painting from Kathmandu of the naked Buddha and his equally naked consort locked in sacred seated coitus...kissing. I carefully put it back into place. "The first one was for inviting Sister Frank into your house. The second was for staring at her teenage butt, you horny bastard! I saw you checking out her ass while she was bent over looking for her pen. I SAW YOU!" Mary spat, turning on her heel and striding toward the back door. I caught up with her near the kitchen, grabbed a wrist, and spun her around. "Just a small reminder, MRS. Chandler, but I am a single man and I'll damn well check out whoever's ass I want to...and that includes yours! And, for your information, I didn't invite Katelynn inside. She just slid her way in past me. Besides...I don't recall specifically inviting you inside my house this last time either. You just kinda showed up!" "Katelynn! She actually dared to ask you to call her Katelynn and you did! I heard that too. That...little...BITCH!" she yelled and coiled herself for a roundhouse blow. I felt her clenched fist breeze past my nose but as she spun around again I kept ahold of her wrist and booted Mrs. Chandler on her lovely ass. She started sobbing crocodile tears. "Awww...take it easy. I didn't kick you that hard. Who are you mad at anyway...me or Katelynn?" I said pulling her to me. "You don't understand." she sobbed against my chest then pushed me away. "If Katelynn...Sister Frank...had seen me here inside your home I would have been expelled from our Orson group for improper behavior. Shunned. My husband could never live with the public shame and our marriage would be over." "Well...no doubt it would definitely have been awkward for us all but I doubt that Sister Frank would ever say a single word, Mary...since she borrowed one of my erotic art books, the lesbian skin mag, and drank two of my ice-cold beers." "WHAAAT?" she gasped blinking back the hot tears dripping from her long eyelashes. "That's right. I politely gave her the beer while she was resting on the couch. Katelynn specifically asked for the beer saying something about its energy benefits for bicycling. By the way, is that true about alcohol being ok for Orsons as an occasional health tonic?" Mrs. Chandler nodded and remained silent as her last salty tears chased each other down her cheeks and neck then disappeared under the ruffled collar of her tear-stained blouse. I watched her sniffle and wipe at her nose with the back of her hand. I handed her some tissues from a nearby box and she daubed at her eyes and then blew her nose. Still sniffling Mary looked around for a place to put them and I pointed at the trash container. "Are you going to be okay?" "I don't know...I really don't know." she said in a quavering voice, drawing a deep shaky breath. "Maybe a drink might help?" Her eyes lit up and I thought she was going to come at me again but then she dropped her eyes, nodding quietly. "Water, juice, decaf something or other...a cold beer?" I teased. This time she raised her hand as if to slug me and I ducked. Mary grabbed me by the hair and pulled me close. "Whiskey." she whispered sensuously, looking deep into my eyes. "Whiskey?" "Whiskey...real women drink whiskey!" and she kissed me hard on the lips. "One sec...be right back." I mumbled against her soft lips and went to the liquor cabinet. "I am so confused. One second you're trying to clock me with your fist and the next you're kissing me and asking for whiskey." I said shaking my head dropping two ice cubes into her glass then pouring her a healthy shot of some of my best stock. I held up a single finger and cocked an eyebrow. Mary hesitated and then, smiling shyly, slowly held up two. "Well! Ooookaaay, Mrs. Chandler! Two shots it is. Damn...you Orson women are becoming freaking hard to understand. Hahaha!" I handed Mary her drink and watched her take the first sip, her lips briefly stretching in a tight grimace at the initial bite of the alcohol. She smiled sweetly though and then took a big gulp. "Gasp! This is the good stuff?" "Hahaha! Yes, dear. Nine year old whiskey aged in a charred oak barrel. "Whoa! Tee hee. Well, I think it needs a bit more aging." she teased and then gulped down the rest, coughing. "Thirsty, Mary?" "Not really, Mike. I just needed some courage for what's to come." "Is that so? What's to come?" I asked taking her empty glass and went and poured myself a Caribbean shot, then downed it with a shudder. "Well, hopefully both of us cumming together...that's spelled with a "u", Mr. Jacob....soon." she said with a nasty leering wink. Mary approached and put her arms around my neck. "How much time do we have, Mrs. Chandler?" I asked grabbing her right ass cheek and groping her hefty left tit. "Oh, that feels so good, Mike. It has been over a year since my husband has touched me at all and I can't remember the last time he even looked at me the way you are right now." she said grinding her belly into my crotch. "That IS nice...but how long?" "Hmmm?..." she asked dreamily. "....oh, about 5 hours. I'm supposed to be at an out of town meeting with some Orsons my husband has never met. "Five hours. We can accomplish a lot in five hours, Mary." I said grinding my stiffening cock against her. "Yes we can. Ooooo...do that again, please." We continued our lusty embrace, slow dancing to a silent tune of our own creation. "Let's get started, Mrs. Chandler." I suggested. "On what? Tee hee." she giggled reaching between us to find my grateful cock. "Playing "Find the Mistletoe", silly." "Whatever you want, dear. How do we begin?" "Look up." "Oh...you're sneaky." Mary said spying the almost hidden sprig tangled with some beads and a small air-freshener lei that hung just beyond the arch between the kitchen and the dining room. Mrs. Chandler tilted her head back, closed her dreamy eyes, and puckered up. "I try, you lovely married woman." and kissed her, her lips parting and our tongues tangling. Mary's hand gripping my penis started squeezing and stroking me through my thin dark slacks. We were soon lost in a hot adulterous kiss that seemed to last for days. Both my hands roamed over her married body making her gasp or sigh into my mouth when I found a particularly sensitive spot...mainly her ass and breasts. We broke for air and clung tightly to each other still slow dancing in place, grinding our middles together. "Your cock is hard, Mike. Wanna fuck my aching pussy?" Mary whispered against my ear, flattening her big tits against me. "Not that I'm complaining, Mrs. Chandler, but aren't Orsons forbidden to use coarse language?" "In public...yes...you horny fucking bastard. In private married couples can say and do anything they want to...as long as it's legal. I love talking dirty but my husband is such a prude that it offends him even on those rare occasions when he actually mounts me. So...again...wanna fuck?" Mary unzipped my fly but I stopped her hand from finding what it wanted. "Hell yes! But...our mistletoe game isn't over yet. Look around you, you sexy cunt." I said spanking her big ass and then zipping up. "Ouch! Again please?" she husked. "Smack!" "Ummm...so bad and so good! Again?" "Smack!" This time I spanked her ass so hard it made my hand ache and my fingers tingle. "OWWW!" she yelped reaching behind and rubbing her cheeks. "Aren't you afraid your husband might find some marks?" "HahahaHA! That's a good one. We have slept in separate bedrooms for years and, anyway, he is always sleeping before I get ready for bed." Then, looking around, "I don't see any more mistletoe." "Sure?" She looked around again while I slid a hand up under her dress. "Positive." "Oookaaay..." and, in two quick jerks, I tore her panties off. "Gasp! Why'd you do that? I liked those!" "Rules of the game, my dear....rules of the game. If the female player can't see the next mistletoe from where they are the lady loses an article of clothing...my choice." I related rubbing her torn lacey pink panties on my nose and lips, inhaling deeply. "Your lovely cunt smells...needy. Nice." "Enjoy, you perv! Well...I still don't see any other friggin' mistletoe. Show me?" "Over your right shoulder on the ceiling near the hanging plant in the front room." "Where? I still don't...Oh...there it is! The mistletoe blends in with the plant. Clever." I was still sniffing her ripped panties and licking the juice-stained crotch. "You really are a pervert." "I try." A long pause developed with Mary still grinding her belly and big boobs against me. "Tee hee hee! So...Mike...now what?" "Walk under the mistletoe near the plant." "Ahhh...this part is simple." she said strutting sensuously in front of me...her big ass swinging back and forth. "Mrs. Chandler? You have a great fucking ass. Can I wear it for a hat?" "Absolutely. Now?" she teased raising her skirt as she walked, barely revealing the bottom of her swaying cheeks. "Later. Hahaha! We have a ways to go on this game." She let her skirt drift back down into place and then waited for me under the mistletoe...and waited...and waited. "Well?" she finally asked, giggling. "Pull on the mistletoe." "Oookaay...ummm...how? Hahaha!" "With your teeth." Chapter Four "My teeth. Are you kidding me?" "Nope. Use the stepstool leaning against the wall." "That little thing? I'll fall." she said nervously opening it up and stepping onto the first step. "You won't. I guarantee it, you sexy big-titted bitch." I reassured her and started walking slowly toward her. Mary climbed to the first step and by the time she started to set her size 6 glossy black shoe on the third, and top, step I was there beside her. I immediately slid my right hand up under her skirt and pushed two of my fingers deep into her open wet cunt. My left hand roughly gripped her right breast. My cock was already hard. "DAMN!" she gasped out stepping fully onto the top step forcing my probing fingers to retreat a bit but she was still quite secure. Mrs. Chandler reached up with her hand to pull on the mistletoe. "NO!" I commanded loudly. "Your teeth, Married slut. Remember?" Her wild pussy started noticeably leaking when I used the word "slut". "Ooookaaay...here goes, Mike." Mary craned her lovely neck to reach the plastic mistletoe. Just as she managed to fasten her teeth onto the fake plant I pinched her captured nipple...hard. She gasped but, to her credit, keep her toothy grip on the jagged mistletoe leaf. "Hahaha! Welf...If thish ishn't the strangesth thingth I'fe efa gotten myselth intho! Nowf whaf?" she mumbled around the plastic leaf in her tightly clenched teeth. "Don't let go and step down to the next lower step, Mrs. Chandler." I said while slipping my fingers slowly in and out of her very wet pussy. She did and soft sensuous jazz started playing from a speaker near the mistletoe. Mary's eye widened and she opened her mouth, laughing. Then she placed one foot on the next step down and I shoved my relentless fingers deeper inside Mrs. Chandler's hot cunt...up to the hilt. "Mmmmm..."she moaned. "Look around." I suggested still fingering her pussy, refusing her feet access to the floor...yet. "And...if I don't?" she husked pushing back against my invading fingers. I whipped my fingers out of her delicious pussy, released her tit, and stepped back. Mary almost fell off the stepstool. "I understand. Ok, Mike...I...I'll...keep playing." I immediately regripped her big breast and slid my slickened fingers home. "Resume...Orson cunt." "Sigh...that feels so friggin' GOOD! I want to cum, Mike!" she panted. I pulled my fingers from her clasping pussy but squeezed her big ass, crudely wiping some of her cunt juice on the right cheek. "Not yet, Mrs. Chandler. Look around for the next mistletoe." "Hmmm...ok." and she twisted around on the stepstool forcing me to switch hand grips on her luscious married body. "Nope...nothing." she said after awhile. "Are you sure, Mrs. Chandler?" "Yes...I think so..." she said nervously licking her lips and beginning to tense. "Uncertainty this time draws a special punishment, Mary. Better be clear." "Ok...I'll take another look." My fingers found her open hungry cunt again...she was drooling...so I decided to bring her off quickly by stimulating her g-spot while pinching her prominent clit. "Arrrrhhhhssssnnnggg!" she groaned and fell into my arms. Mary quickly recovered, showering my face and neck with enthusiastic warm and grateful kisses. "My husband has never given me an orgasm." she said with hot tears brimming her eyes. Then she began to cry. I lowered Mrs. Chandler's feet to the floor and held her tight. She sobbed and sobbed her face against my chest, tears soaking my shirt. Eventually, her sobs began to ease. She cried for awhile in gasping snuffles, then in silent tears. When she finally looked up at me I wiped the salty streams from her cheeks with my fingers. "All done?" Beautiful Mary nodded, raised her glasses, and wiped the remaining tears away herself. "Ok then...find the next mistletoe...or take the consequences." "I already told you, Mike. I can't see it." she said still wiping at one last tear. Apparently in her post orgasm state she had completely forgotten about the mistletoe peeking out near the stairwell that I had groped under not so long ago. I shoved Mary backwards hard enough to startle her and make her glasses fall back onto her nose then roughly tore her white blouse away (buttons bouncing and skittering here and there across the floor) with three quick efforts...baring her wonderful breasts...and shocking Mrs. Chandler whose hands and arms instinctively rose to cover her big swinging knockers...sort of. "My clothes! First, my panties...now this? DAMN! How am I supposed to get home, Mike?" "You still have your long coat...and a bra in your van." I teased. Her emotions all jumbled up and obviously now in no mood for a joke, Mrs. Chandler suddenly tried to slap me while still keeping her tits barely covered. Both her impotent moves were comical...to me. "Hahahaha!" "What's so damn funny?" she angrily asked while trying to slap me again and almost falling over with the follow through. "Too much fucking whiskey, you cock-hungry married skank?" "Seriously...I think that you are ridiculously funny right now. Relax, Mary. I have some blouses in my closet upstairs that a few of my former girlfriends somehow forgot to take with them." I thought sure this statement would further inflame the situation and prepared for her attack. Mary, her anger deflating like a released balloon, laughed instead. "HahahahaHA! I'll bet you do, you horny old goat. Were they also playing Find the Mistletoe with you? Hahaha!" I French-kissed the lovely Mary directly on her "innie" belly button. "A couple of them, Mrs. Chandler." Mary released her wonderful knockers, grabbed my head pulling me up from her exposed belly, then French kissed me on the mouth. She is definitely a smoking hot married Orson cunt! YUM! "Want to know where the next mistletoe is, bitch?" I teased murmuring against her plush painted lips. "No...I don't want to know where the next mistletoe is!" she mocked, mimicking my tone. "I want you to make love to me, Mike...right now...right here!" she murmured back grabbing my aching cock, snaking her long pink tongue deep into my mouth while slowly grinding her sexy belly against my hard cock.