4 comments/ 120914 views/ 12 favorites Coo, Coo, Ca-Choo, Mrs. By: ISawYourMommy Psychologists and sociologists the world over debate the origins of mankind's habits: nature or nurture? Is man born with a particular habit, or is it instilled in him by way of experience? A careful reading of the opposing analyses does not really lead to one particular answer for any particular habit. Much the same can be said of Dan's attraction to older women, particularly those whose left hands come adorned with sparkly diamonds. Was Dan born with this temptation, or did it come to pass through experience? In the end, that question will likely never be answered. Nonetheless, a strong case can be made in favor of nurture. * * * Dan's parents, though wealthy, have not transferred to him all the trappings that come with that wealth. To be sure, he dresses well. They provided him with the down payment for his condominium, and a nice car when he graduated college. And to be sure, that is more than most young men his age receive from their parents. Nonetheless, Dan's parents are down-to-earth, very well-grounded (which, of course, calls into question his own particular predilections). During college summers, they required Dan to work at his father's private equity firm. During the school year, he always held a job. It was never full-time, nor was it hard labor. His parents just mandated that he work a few shifts a week to prevent his from viewing the world as his oyster. So it was that during Dan's junior year at USC he obtained a job waiting tables at the World Café in Santa Monica. It wasn't located terribly convenient to campus or his fraternity house, but the hours were decent, and the tips better. The World Café sits on the corner of Main and Ashland and offers typical California fare: salads, tuna, light pastas, all very health conscience. While part of the restaurant is indoors, it has a garden patio for diners to enjoy their meal al fresco, surrounded by trees and small rock ponds. Dan was working one August afternoon a few weeks after he started. It was a typical Friday afternoon for the World Café. A young couple was seated at table 8, picking at a shared salad. Two Hollywood wanna-bes were downing vodka-and-tonics with their pasta, yapping away on their cell phones, ordering Dan to get them this and take that away. A group of young women, apparently taking a break from shopping, sat at table 12. Though Dan wasn't working this table, he made eye contact with a cute brunette, and they exchanged smiles. Around noon, three older women were seated at table 4, one of Dan's tables. Before he approached the table with their menus, he took one look at them and rolled his proverbial eyes. 'Here we go,' he thought. 'Salads and a bottle of wine.' After only a few weeks, Dan found that was able to gauge what a person would eat and drink by the way they dressed, who they were with, the day of the week, the time of day, and other such factors. For example, if a couple in their mid-thirties arrived on Saturday around 7:00 wearing comfortable yet stylish clothes, Dan could guess that the husband would order steak or sea bass, and the wife would order chicken or salmon. They might get a glass or two of wine, but might just as well order a few beers. For another example, at noon on a hot Friday afternoon in August, if three women in their late thirties or early forties walk in dressed for show, they were likely to each order a salad, and together would order a bottle of wine (probably white, and maybe two bottles). The women at table 4 fit this mold. All were clearly trophy wives. The brunette of the group wore a pair of white, open-toed heels below matching pants; a pale yellow blouse covered what appeared to be ample breasts. As they sat, a French-manicured hand slid her Gucci sunglasses atop her head, a diamond bracelet sliding down her slim, tanned arm in the process. Her lustrous hair had been pulled back in a clip, revealing glossy lips, high cheekbones and glittering green eyes. One of the blondes – clearly a dye-job – wore a pair of Seven jeans over a pair of black Manolo Blahnik heels. A red, silk halter top hid smallish breasts, and her platinum hair pulled back in a tight ponytail highlighted a freshly-scrubbed face. This one's Gucci glasses were actually hiding her eyes. Dan wondered if she had breast-envy, given her current company. The third woman – the other blonde, this one a dirty blonde – was a little different from the first two, insofar as she wore a silk skirt instead of pants. It was baby-blue, and ended halfway up tanned and well-toned thighs. Covering a substantial pair of breasts was a white, spaghetti-strap silk top that hung loosely above her cleavage. A pair of open-toed Gucci backless heels adorned her cute feet, exposing red-manicured toes. Matching nails tipped her long elegant fingers. Her hair was pulled back enough to reveal a diamond necklace, which seemed to be paired with the diamond tennis bracelet that clattered on her right wrist. Looking at them as a whole, Dan wondered at the value of their jewelry. A pair of diamond bracelets, a diamond necklace, at least one pair of diamond earrings, two pendants that were probably purchased on Rodeo Drive. And this does not even include the wedding and engagement rings. All three women wore one of each. Dan was no expert, but he guessed that he was looking at a total of 10 or so carats. He took all of this in as he collected three menus and made his way over to table 4. When he approached, the three trophy wives looked up at him, all smiles. 'If the jewelry doesn't blind me, the bright teeth will,' he thought to himself as the dirty blonde lifted her dark Chanel glasses to the top of her head, revealing piercing blue eyes that smiled their own brilliance. "Afternoon, ladies. Can I start you with a drink? A bottle of pinot grigio, perhaps?" The brunette must have been the leader of the group. "Absolutely. A bottle of Santa Margherita would be perfect. And I don't think we'll need the menus; we eat here often enough." The blondes just nodded their heads. The group started with an order of hummus, but for lunch, the brunette ordered a mozzarella-and-tomato salad, the dye-job a Caesar, and the dirty blonde sesame-encrusted tuna over greens. 'Damn,' Dan thought. 'I forgot to anticipate the hummus.' With a nod, Dan departed the three wives and put in their lunch order. Grabbing a bottle of pinot grigio, a corkscrew and three glasses, Dan headed back to the table, popped the cork, and filled the glasses. He returned a while later to serve their appetizer and then lunches, and few times to see if they needed anything ("Another bottle of pinot grigio, please"). After two hours of what Dan could only imagine was nothing but pure gossip and inanities, the dirty blonde signaled to him that she would like the check. He quickly responded, and placed the check folder on the table next her, then departed. When he next looked, the three women were walking toward the front gate, having left the check folder on the table. He collected the folder from the table and cashed it out, surprised (and delighted) to find a thirty percent tip. While he was cashing out, the dirty blonde stopped at the maitre-d's desk and asked when the next shift change would occur. "Four o'clock, ma'am," she was told. After thanking the maitre-d, the three women bid their au reviors, and parted ways, the dirty blonde spending some time in the boutiques that dotted Main Street. Dan worked the rest of the afternoon. Right after 4:00, he clocked out, collected his tips for the afternoon, and walked through the garden patio toward the front gate. On passing through the front gate, he stopped short, and took in the beautiful creature resting at the curb: an Aston Martin DB7 in titanium gray, top down, its engine tick-tick-ticking the hot afternoon sun. It took him a moment to notice the dirty blonde leaning against the passenger side door, arms folded beneath her generous breasts, one ankle crossed over the other. "Oh, hi . . . uh . . . Mrs. . . ." "Mrs. Marcus. Belinda Marcus." "Yes, of course. I'm sorry, Mrs. Marcus. I saw this car and . . . is it yours?" "Mm-hm." "Very nice." Dan paused. "So, did you enjoy your lunch?" he asked, not even looking at her, instead circling around the front of the car, examining all its curves and bulges. "I did, very much. Thank you. Are you just getting off work now?" "Yeah," Dan responded, barely hearing her. "Had a full day here, but no class, so that's okay." "Class?" Dan was near the rear of the car now, looking at the cockpit. "Hmm? Oh. Yes. Class. I go to SC." "Really." It was not a question. "So, where are you off to now?" Dan pointed at the Stumpjumper mountain bike chained to a bike rack. "Home. We're having a party tonight. Gotta shower." His attention was again focused on the DB7, and he didn't see Mrs. Marcus glance toward the bike, a sly smile parting her shiny, red lips. He walked back toward the driver's door, and inspected the cockpit from a better position. "Who's we?" she said, turning to face him, leaning the front of her trim thighs against the passenger door. "Huh? Oh. I'm sorry. I'm being rude. My fraternity. We're having a party tonight." "That's a long bike ride." "Not really. Well, yeah, it is, but its good exercise," Dan quipped, patting his taut stomach. "Well, I can give you a ride if you want." Belinda placed her manicured hands on the window sill of the door, and leaned over a little. Her movements caused her lush breasts to bunch up between her arms, creating an immense cleavage. Dan, of course, didn't notice. "No, but thanks. I think I need to burn a few calories. Keeps me in shape." "Apparently," she smirked, almost rolling her eyes at obliviousness. "Nice car," he murmured, almost to himself. "So you said. My husband bought it for me for our tenth wedding anniversary." "Nice present." Dan again gazed upon the body of the car. "This is a whole lotta car. Do you even get to enjoy it in L.A., with all the traffic?" "Sure. At the right time of day, the PCH is clear, and a great drive, too. We also take it over to our house in Palm Springs. Come on, I'll give you a ride home." Dan hesitated a moment. He really wanted the workout that the bike ride would provide, but at the same time really wanted to take a ride in the Aston Martin. "Sure, why not? I have to work tomorrow afternoon. I'll just get a ride over here then." Belinda Marcus pushed herself off the passenger door and walked around to the driver's side, the heels of her Gucci slides clacking against the tarmac. Dan remained standing at the driver's door, and Mrs. Marcus made no move to open the door herself. "Oh. I'm sorry, Mrs. Marcus," Dan laughed, somewhat flustered at being in the presence of such beauty – he had always loved Aston Martins, from the time he first saw a James Bond movie. "I must have left my manners at home." He opened the car door and allowed Mrs. Marcus room to settle into the driver's seat before scurrying around to the other side. Before he could fasten his seatbelt, Mrs. Marcus accelerated away from the curb and took a right at Ashland, then another right at Ocean, a low rumble playing through the exhaust pipes. "So tell me, Dan. What are you studying?" she inquired, pushing the gear lever into third and pulling errant strands of hair from her face. "Finance. I'm not really sure what I wanna do yet, but my parents think finance provides a good background." He was hearing her words, but barely paying attention, instead examining the cockpit and all its controls. "Indeed it does. Some people think money is found in medicine or the law, but that's not true. The real money is in finance," Mrs. Marcus responded, pulling up to a stoplight at PCH. "I guess. It just seems so boring. It's all numbers and accounting and . . . uh . . . why are you getting on PCH?" he asked, looking in her direction. "It'll take you forever to get me back to campus going this way." Without taking her eyes off the car in front of her, she responded, "Probably, but the view is much better. Don't you think?" "Well, I guess. I just don't want to put you out." 'You have no idea, young man. You have no idea,' Mrs. Marcus thought as she turned the Aston Martin onto PCH and accelerated through the gear box, her hair blowing in the draft created by the car's speed along the coastline. She and Dan continued their small talk as she sped a few miles up PCH. When she breezed right past Sunset, Dan interrupted himself. "Uh, not sure where you're going, Mrs. Marcus, but you just passed Sunset. I'm enjoying the ride and all, but going back through the Canyon and down the Valley will take hours." "Don't worry about it, Dan. I live right up here." She smiled at him; the dark Chanel glasses hid her eyes, but her full, red lips parted, revealing a dazzling smile. "I'll get you back to your fraternity house in time for your little party, but until then I want your company." With that, Mrs. Marcus dropped her right hand from the gear shift to Dan's exposed thigh; her long manicured nails tickled his skin and sent shivers up his spine. "And please, call me Belinda. 'Mrs. Marcus' makes feel like an old lady." Belinda's actions silenced Dan for the moment, but she did not relent, and kept her hand on his bare thigh, lightly rubbing the muscled flesh, tracing circles in his leg hair with her nails. Dan squirmed in his seat, uneasy at this turn of events. Certainly, he found Belinda attractive, beautiful, but he was unprepared for her advances, for her frank signals of desire. His stomach knotted, and seemed to turn over on itself. But despite his trepidation, his cock began to straighten, lengthen, thicken. Soon, the car rumbled past Pepperdine and she slowed, her blinker indicating a left turn. When traffic cleared, she pulled across PCH and onto a macadam driveway barred by a wide, swinging gate. Belinda's hand left Dan's leg to press a button mounted on the sun visor, and the gate slowly swung open, revealing a pea-gravel driveway. As soon as the gate opened, she eased the car through the pillars and up the winding, tree-lined path, the gravel crunching beneath wide tires. A slight breeze rustled the trees overhead and, as the car rounded a bend, a magnificent Spanish-style villa appeared. A fountain placed in the middle of an open courtyard spat water into the air, and Belinda pulled the Aston Martin around the fountain. She brought the big car to a halt in the courtyard and killed the engine, releasing the catch of her seatbelt at the same time. With grace that was incongruent with a woman in heels departing a low-slung sports car, Belinda unfolded herself from the Aston Martin and strutted around the back of the car toward the front door. Dan exited the car and followed her, on her heels as a ten-foot door of carved mahogany swung open, aided by an elderly gentleman in butler's livery. "Good afternoon, Amos," she intoned as she marched past the man. "Afternoon, ma'am." He gave only a curt nod to Dan, who followed the elegant woman through a large foyer that stretched the depth of the house, ending in a great room with French doors that led to an enormous slate veranda. Belinda dropped her purse on a side table before pushing through one of the doors and stepping onto the patio. Dan obediently followed her and, stepping onto the terrace, paused to take in the beauty of the property. Large slate slabs surrounded a shimmering, Olympic-sized swimming pool. Beyond that was a good fifty yards of lush, green lawn; he could smell the fresh scent of cut grass. The property seemed to end abruptly, and he could hear waves crashing below what must have been a cliff of indeterminate height. To the right of the pool was an outdoor shower surrounded on three sides by slate-covered half-walls, and then a small pool house. To the left were further expanses of slate with a number of tables and chaise lounges, some with cabanas, some without. Leaving Dan in her wake, her scent lingering in the air and mixing with earthy smell of the lawn, Belinda pranced over to one of the tables that sat beneath an open umbrella. Dan followed, taking a seat across the glass-topped wrought iron table from her. Soundlessly, the butler materialized at the table. "Would you like a refreshment, ma'am?" "That'd be lovely, Amos. Sapphire and tonic, please. Two limes, of course." "Of course. And for the gentleman?" he asked, turning toward Dan. "Uh . . . the same thing, please." "Certainly," Amos responded, before retreating into the villa. "Beautiful property you have, Belinda." "Isn't it? This house has been in my husband's family for generations," she informed. "We've been here for five or six years, and I can't get enough of it. It's so peaceful." Belinda crossed one trim leg over another, exposing further expanses of tan, taut skin that almost shimmered in the fading light. "I bet." Dan paused; the only sounds were the waves smashing against the rocks at the base of the Marcus' property, and the faint burbling of the pool's filtration system. "So close to PCH, but you can't hear the sounds of traffic, just the waves crashing against the cliffs." "I'll bet the sunsets are something, too." "Mmm-hmm. If you're here long enough, you may get to see one." Before Dan could respond, Amos reappeared with their drinks on a tray, setting it on the table between them. "May I be of further assistance, ma'am?" "Not right now, Amos. Thank you. But have you gone to the grocer's yet?" "No, ma'am, I haven't. I was waiting for you to return, but can leave any time you wish." "Wonderful. While you're out, please stop off at the dry cleaners, and also the liquor store. I have an order ready for pick-up, for tomorrow night." "Of course, ma'am." Amos once again retreated into the house. Sipping their drinks from tall glasses, Dan and Belinda sat in silence for a few moments, basking in the early evening sun setting over the horizon and in the tranquility offered by the old estate. Before long, they heard the low rumble of an SUV backing out of its garage space and making its way down the driveway toward PCH. As the crunching of gravel receded, Belinda took a short pull from her drink. "So," she began, setting her drink on the table, turning it on the condensation that collected beneath it. Dan just looked at her expectantly, and then turned his gaze to the horizon, bringing his glass to his lips. When Belinda rose from her chair, Dan turned toward her again and watched her move as she came around the table, a gentle breeze rustling her blonde tresses. As she neared him, she turned slightly, almost presenting her backside to him, and slowly, gracefully, lowered her bottom to his left thigh. "Um . . . ," he murmured, sitting up straighter in the chair. As Belinda's warm body sank into his, she draped her right arm around his neck, pulling his face toward her own. Dan's heart rate increased dramatically. His eyes remained locked on the slender, tanned face that was descending on him, on the lightly powdered high cheek bones, on the shiny red lips that parted slightly as they lowered toward his. His nostrils flared, attempting to suck in as much of her intoxicating scent as possible. When her soft lips lightly brushed against his, his stomach knotted and he felt a slight stirring in his groin. The scent of her perfume overpowered his olfactory senses, and his eyes rolled into his head before fluttering shut. Belinda's left hand, theretofore resting on her thigh, caressed Dan's cheek, her nails tickling his skin. After a few light brushes of her lips along his, they parted and her tongue traced along the outlines of Dan's mouth. Despite the hardening of his cock, Dan pulled back when her tongue slipped between his lips and into his mouth. Coo, Coo, Ca-Choo, Mrs. "We shouldn't be doing this, Belinda," he breathed, eyelids fluttering once again. "What about your husband?" "He's gone, Dan," she whispered, planting light kisses up the left side of the young man's chin, making her way toward his ear. Her left hand dropped to his chest, gently rubbing his firm pectoral muscles. "He won't be back until tomorrow," she breathed, her hot breath caressing his inner ear and sending shivers up his spine. "But--," he began before Belinda lightly nipped at his earlobe and then sank her hot tongue into his ear, breathing heavily. "But nothing," she intoned. Belinda continued her manipulation of Dan's earlobe before patting him on the chest with her left hand, sitting up straight on the lap of this young man. "Come on. Let's go swimming," she offered. "Wha . . . what about Amos, or whatever his name is?" She squirmed in Dan's lap, grinding against his hardened cock, as she answered. "He won't be back for an hour or so. C'mon." She lifted herself off him, pulling one of his hands with her. "But I don't have a bathing suit," Dan protested, weakly, as he rose to shaky legs. "Don't worry about it. There are plenty in the pool house." An elegant, red-tipped finger pointed across the pool as she released his hand and walked away from him, toward the villa. "Be back in a few minutes. The bathing suits are hanging outside the shower room." On trembling legs, Dan walked around the pool toward the small bungalow-style building. Entering, he quickly found the hooks holding spare bathing suits, apparently for the Marcus' guests. "What the fuck," he muttered under his breath, pulling a shorts-style suit from its hook, holding it up to make sure it would fit him. "This is crazy. What the fuck am I doing here?" he asked himself rhetorically as he slipped his pants and boxers off, replacing them with the bathing suit. Leaving his clothes in the pool house, but with his shirt still on, Dan returned to the pool deck as Belinda stepped from the French doors at the rear of the villa. He stood at the shallow end of the pool, dumbstruck as he watched her coast across the veranda toward the pool. Inside, Belinda Marcus had removed her conservative but sexy lunch attire in favor of a shiny silver lamee bikini. Her muscular legs undulated as she moved across the slate slabs toward the pool. A taut stomach, tanned a rich golden brown, hinted at serious time spent at the health club and in the sun. The instant that Dan saw Belinda at the World Café, he was attracted to her, but he never imagined that beneath her restrained skirt and top she had hidden such a marvelous body. More enticing than her legs and stomach were her breasts. They swelled inside the shiny top, bulged from her chest and wobbled on her torso as she strutted toward the pool. A light smattering of freckles appeared at the top of the swells, continuing up toward her neck and off her golden shoulders. Thick nipples were evident through the tented fabric, casting as they did barely noticeable shadows beneath them. Without stopping, Belinda continued toward the pool and fell into an elegant dive. Beneath the water, she stroked ten or fifteen yards toward the shallow end before surfacing. Bringing her legs beneath her, she stood up straight in three feet of water, pulling her blonde locks away from her face, exposing her full lips and high cheekbones. Her bikini top sagged slightly, revealing a crisp tan line across the top of her magnificent breasts. "What are you waiting for? Jump in," she commanded, her piercing blue eyes alive and dancing in the setting sun. Dan hesitated a moment before pulling his shirt over his head as he walked toward deeper water. He dove in and quickly surfaced, shaking water from his closely-cropped hair. "Feels great, huh?" she asked as she doggy-paddled toward a ladder. "Wonderful," he responded, treading water. "Great day for it." Belinda climbed the ladder and padded across the pool deck toward the table where they had been sitting, water dripping off her firm body as she went. She retrieved their drinks and returned to the side of the pool, setting them down near where Dan was treading water. She then leapt in, head first, and swam a lazy circle around him. She made her way back to the ledge near their drinks and took a long sip from the tall glass. A moment later, Dan joined her there. "We've lived her for five or six years," she informed him between sips of her drink. "I never tire of having drinks in the pool at sunset on a hot afternoon." Holding on the edge of the pool, Belinda floated closer to Dan and kissed him hungrily, her wet tongue sliding over and between his lips, her massive breasts bobbing on the surface of the water. Dan began to react, and kissed her back. "Even better when I have company," she whispered, her words muffled between their joined lips. Before Dan's hand could find her hip to pull her closer, she pulled away, slipping from his grasp. Grabbing her drink, she doggy-paddled toward the shallow end of the pool, closer to the pool house. Dan followed, leaving his drink where it was. By the time he caught up to her, Belinda had reached the other side of the pool and had thrown her arms up on the edge, looking out over the ocean at the setting sun. Dan approached her from behind and placed his arms around her midsection, feeling the tautness of her belly. He nibbled lightly at her neck, the scent of chlorine strong in his nostrils. The gurgling of a pool filter a few feet away drowned out the sounds of the ocean below. "Mmm. That feels nice," she murmured, bringing her drink to her lips. Dan allowed his hands to float toward the surface, brushing lightly against her stomach as they rose to her breasts. As large as his hands were, they failed to completely cover Belinda's bulging mounds, and he lightly rubbed his palms over her thickening nipples. "And that, too," she again murmured, setting her drink down and resting her head on her crossed arms. Dan kneaded the firm flesh and then gently grasped her turgid nipples between thumbs and forefingers, squeezing delicately. "Nice, too," he heard her whimper as she ground her tight bottom against his crotch. "But harder." Dan increased the pressure on Belinda's now-distended nipples, alternately pinching and twisting them; he heard her breathing increase. "Want me to stop?" he teased. "Keep going," she groaned, squirming backward against him, against his crotch. Encouraged, Dan's hands left the older woman's hardened nipples and the fingers of each hand hooked into the top of the slippery bikini, pulling the cups down and exposing the enormous breasts to the cooling air and lapping pool water. He again took her swollen nipples between his fingers, pinching, pulling, twisting. Belinda grunted and groaned, and jammed her ass back against him, relishing the sinful sensations that flowed from her nipples. When he felt that she had plateaued with this stimulation, Dan's right hand released its nipple. He looked around, still apprehensive that someone might walk into the backyard and catch him with this married woman. Seeing no one, he relaxed a little and allowed his free hand to massage its way down her torso and stomach toward her bikini line. Reaching it, he traced a finger along and just under the edge of the bikini bottom, hesitating to go any further. Belinda, unaware of Dan's hesitation, his residual nervousness, thought he was simply teasing her, and she sought to put a stop to it. She pulled an arm from beneath her resting head and plunged it beneath the surface of the water, quickly finding Dan's probing hand and pushing it into her bikini bottom. When Dan's hand began to act of its own accord, she released it and replaced her arm beneath her head. Dan's hand sunk deeper into her bikini and found her bare vagina, parting into two halves at the junction of her thighs. He ran a finger down each side, back up, and down again. His middle finger strayed into the crevice between her full labia and there, beneath the surface of the pool, easily parted her lubricated lips. He sank it into the folds of the married woman's vagina and quickly withdrew it, pulling some of her vaginal fluids along with it. Dan's left hand remained at Belinda's left breast, kneading the firm flesh, feeling it squish between his strong fingers, the nipple trapped between two knuckles. "Pinch harder," she moaned. Dan complied, and again took a thick nub between his fingers, pinching and twisting it around. As he did so, his right hand found Belinda's clitoris, and rubbed it lightly after first. She ground her ass harder against his crotch, and his manipulation of the older woman's clit increased, both in pressure and speed. Still resting against the side of the pool, Belinda's breathing quickened and became labored. Dan pinched and pulled at her left nipple as though trying to milk her, and he vigorously rubbed her hardened clit, water splashing against their bodies as his hand moved briskly underneath the surface. Her upper body began to heave, and she grunted out, "Twist it! Harder!" Dan twisted the nipple wickedly, so that her entire breast was malformed. Belinda shuddered and shook as an orgasm washed over her lithe body. She felt her legs begin to give way beneath her, but she was held upright, trapped as she was between the side of the pool and the young man assaulting her unfaithful body from behind. Dan increased the pace of his masturbation of her clit, all the while twisting the thick, reddened nipple, releasing it, twisting again, releasing. She convulsed in his arms, muttering "Ohmigod, ohmigod, oh god, oh god!" the volume of her voice increasing with each utterance. Belinda's body continued to tremble for the next sixty seconds, and when her orgasm began to subside, she raised her head from the cradle of her hands and looked over her shoulder at the young man, a nasty gleam in her eye. "You are SUCH a bad boy," she murmured. Belinda bucked her firm ass against Dan, pushing him away from her, and turned from the edge of the pool, facing him. She took his face in her hands, and pulled him into her, their lips smashing together in a lustful joinder, their tongues playing against each other. As Dan placed a hand behind her head, wrapping her blonde tresses in his fingers, she dropped a hand to his crotch, easily finding his engorged cock. "I love thick cock," she salivated into Dan's open mouth. "The younger the better," she continued, her elegant fingers moving to the drawstring on Dan's bathing suit, pulling it loose. As the string came untied, Belinda delved her hand into the young man's bathing suit and it closed around the pulsing shaft. Her cool, wet fingers stroked up and down the shaft, pausing once to tickle Dan's contracted balls, and then he felt both of her hands pushing the suit over his hips and down his legs. Belinda guided Dan around so that his back was against the pool wall. "Up," she said, her painted nails tapping him lightly on his now-exposed left hip. Dan put his arms behind him and lifted himself up onto the edge of the pool, water dripping from his young body. She pulled the bathing suit the rest of the way off his legs and moved between them, pushing them apart. Placing a hand against his chest, Belinda pushed Dan backward so that he was resting on his elbows, the rough surface of the slate causing him some discomfort. Leaving her manicured hand on his chest, the long, red nails tracing circles across his pectoral muscles, she dropped her head toward his crotch and took the burgeoning cock into her mouth, her free hand circling around the base and squeezing. Dan was overcome with lust at the sight that presented itself to him. Belinda's large breasts rested against his thighs; her still-red lips encircled his shaft, occasionally exposing the shiny, purple head of his cock; her manicured fingers tightly gripped the base of his cock, seemingly trying to milk the sperm from his balls. Her head bobbed up and down, leaving trails of saliva dripping down the thick, veiny shaft. Though he was still nervous at being in this married woman's pool, both of them naked and in broad daylight, his excitement almost engulfed those worries and he felt his balls tighten, the sperm contained within them churning. But before he released a torrent of semen into her hot mouth, Belinda released his cock and pushed herself away from the edge of the pool. "Stay where you are," she ordered, backstroking away, her monstrous tits seeming to float atop her torso. "I'll be right back." When she reached the opposite side of the pool, she hauled her lithe body easily from the water and trotted over to one of the poolside tables and grabbed a bottle. She turned and dove back into the pool, swimming underwater toward Dan's prone figure, breaking the surface right between his legs. Despite its brief absence from Belinda's sucking mouth, Dan's cock remained rigid, and she wasted no time again warming it between her full, wet lips. Satisfied at the continuing firmness of the shaft, she released it from her mouth and leaned back. She took the bottle and turned it upside down, pouring a generous amount of tanning oil between her bulbous breasts, and another amount over the purple head of Dan's cock. The bottle clattered along the slate as Belinda tossed it to one side of Dan's body. She smoothed the oil up one side of his pulsating shaft and down the other before taking it in her fist, stroking it almost brutally. After a moment, she leaned forward into the parting of Dan's thighs, her mammoth tits falling to either side of the engorged, trembling shaft. "Ever titfucked?" Belinda asked him, her voice silky despite the depravity of her words. Her long, elegant fingers pushed the globes together, engulfing Dan's cock in her vast cleavage. "Oohh, ggaawwdd," Dan groaned. "Nooo." Without moving the rest of her body, Belinda slid her slick tits up and down his shaft, the cockhead poking into the soft underside of her jaw. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, his elbows giving way as he fell to his back on the slate pool deck. Unseen by Dan, Belinda tilted her head down; her tongue flickered from between her red lips and swiped at the head of his cock, shiny and purple again, as it appeared from between her squished, oily breasts. At this point, instinct took over, and Dan began thrusting his hips against Belinda's chest, her breastbone applying pressure against the underside of the shaft, right at the base. Like hers before, his breathing became heavy first, then erratic. He put his hands behind his head and lifted his head, again staring down his chest at the scene before him. Belinda's head was thrown back at the moment, providing Dan with a perfect view of his thick, white shaft coursing between her tanned breasts, nipples protruding obscenely. Her red-tipped fingers were interlaced, trapping his cock there tightly, and her wedding and engagement rings glittered in the late afternoon sunlight. Dan slowed his thrusting upon seeing those rings, and Belinda looked up at his young, boy-next-door face. "What's wrong?" she cooed. "Just . . . just nervous . . . I guess," he breathed. "About what?" she inquired, her fat tits still sliding up and down the young, quivering cock. "Someone . . . coming . . . home," he grunted. "Catch . . . catching us." Belinda chuckled in her throat. "Don't worry, sweetie. The only one that would come home is Amos, and he won't be back for a while." She bowed her head for a moment, licking at Dan's bulbous head as it poked up through her cleavage, savoring the taste of his pre-cum on the tip of her tongue. "Even if he did, this isn't exactly a first for me. Pepperdine's only a few miles down PCH," she laughed. "And you're not the first college kid I've entertained." Dan raised himself to his elbows, his cock still hard in the overheated cavern between this married woman's tits. "You mean, entertain like this?" "Mm-hm. Just like this. I love this, sweetie. I love young, thick cock, just like yours. Love having cum dripping off my nipples, thick shafts stretching my vagina. I love the eagerness of young men like you, your absolute willingness to please." Belinda released her tits as her mouth fell to Dan's trembling shaft, taking just the cockhead between her full lips, swirling her tongue around the sensitive flesh. Opening wide – wider than necessary – her eyes locked on Dan's, she took the entirety of his cock in her mouth, feeling it bump against the back of her throat. Dan let out a groan, and Belinda let his cock drop from between her lips, placing it back between her huge tits. "Wha . . . what about . . . your husband?" he asked. "What about him?" she responded with a sly smile crossing her features. "Doesn't he . . . care?" "He would, if he knew." Belinda again sucked Dan's head between her full lips, and then just as quickly released it, sliding her oil-coated cleavage up and down the shaft. "But he doesn't." "But what . . . what about you?" Dan pressed, his cock still rigid despite the conversation. "What about your vows?" "What about them?" Belinda snapped, annoyed now. "He doesn't know, he doesn't get hurt. No consequences. Just shut up and enjoy it." "Don't the other guys get worried, or nervous?" "Jesus Christ, kid. What's with you?" she asked rhetorically, releasing her breasts from around Dan's cock, clearly exasperated. "Okay. Maybe at first they're worried. But I've found that most college boys can't resist the charms of an older woman. Once they see how nasty I can be, their worries are long forgotten. Okay?" she finished, again taking the thick, young cock between her shiny tits, her breastbone again crashing against the underside of his shaft. Dan shuddered at the contact. "Nasty . . . like this?" he asked, his voice subdued now. "Like having my cock between your breasts?" "How about nasty like this," she responded, again dropping her tits. Belinda took Dan's cock into her mouth, slamming her head down into his crotch until she felt his pubic hair tickle her upper lip and his cockhead jam against the back of her throat; she offered no gag reflex. Dan's eyes rolled into his head as she removed his cock from between her lips and wrapped her tits around his cock. "You like having your cock between my tits, boy-toy?" "Mm-hm." "They're not real, you know." "Mmm," Dan mustered, enjoying the tight tunnel of Belinda's inflated tits. "I bought them a few years ago," she intoned smoothly, almost reflectively. "Does it bother you that my tits are fake?" "Un-uh." Dan again rested on his back, reveling in the sensations surrounding his cock, the nastiness of the words that caressed his ears. "It bothers my husband a lot. He hates them." Belinda paused and looked down her chest, considering the plastic mounds that encircled the thick shaft of this young man. "He says they make me look like a porn star. What do you think?" "Love 'em," Dan muttered, barely able to string two words together. "I bet you do," she chuckled. "All my college boys do. That's why I got them in the first place." Her voice dropped an octave or two. "Not for my husband. Not for me. Just for college kids with thick cocks. Just . . . like . . . this one," she finished, her long, manicured fingers tightly squeezing her fake tits together, slamming them roughly down his shaft. Pre-cum poured from his slit now, adding further lubrication to the makeshift vagina. "You like seeing this, sweetie? Your cock between my big, store-bought tits?" Dan raised his head to watch, and was overwhelmed by the view that greeted him. "Am I squeezing enough for you?" "Mm-hm." "You like watching your thick shaft sliding between my plastic tits. You can see your shiny purple head poke out the top. You can see my diamond rings dance in the sunlight." Dan gasped involuntarily at the debauchery of this woman. "That's right, boy-toy. All you college boys are the same, aren't you? You all love playing with my fake tits and tight cunt. But you really love taking another man's wife, don't you?" Coo, Coo, Ca-Choo, Mrs. "Mmm." "That's all right, sweetie. You don't have to talk. Just bask in the glory of having your young, thick cock trapped between my married tits, married tits that my husband paid for." Belinda jerked down, and her breastbone slammed against underside of Dan's cock. This might mark the time where nurture came into play. Prior to this moment, Belinda's marital status was not a factor in Dan's excitement. If anything, it made him anxious. Still, watching his cock course between the tanned, overheated flesh, kept his cock hard. But it was the marriage of two events – Mrs. Marcus' filthy mouth spewing forth about her married tits, and her breastbone crashing against underside of cock – that may have forever linked in Dan's mind "older married woman" with "intense orgasm." In any event, when Mrs. Marcus' breastbone pounded into underside of his cock, Dan's cum coursed up his shaft and fountained from his cockhead, splashing against the underside of her jaw. From there, it dripped down his pulsing shaft and between her overblown tits. Mrs. Marcus released Dan's cock from between her massive tits and placed just the head in her cleavage, jerking it smoothly. Cum continued to flow from his balls, collecting between her paid-for tits and sliding down her torso. Dan's arms, theretofore holding him up, buckled and he fell to his back, his head nearly cracking against the slate. As the flow of cum began to subside, Mrs. Marcus bent her head and took Dan's shaft between her soft, wet lips, gently sucking, creating a tingling sensation that coursed through his shaft and down into his balls. Though his cock had started to soften, her ministrations reversed that course and blood began to flow back into the veins of his thick shaft. "I hope you're not done, boy-toy." Dan could only groan as Mrs. Marcus slurped her tongue and lips along the sides of his cock. "Jesus, Belinda. You're incredible." Mrs. Marcus released Dan's cock from her wet mouth and climbed over him and out of the pool, water dripping from her body and falling to Dan's heaving chest. "Where you going this time?" Dan asked, the sun settling closer to the horizon, the waves crashing against the cliff face once again registering in his overloaded brain. "We need to wash your boy-cum off me," she said over her shoulder as she walked toward the outdoor shower. "We're having guests for dinner tomorrow, and I don't want little swirls of cum floating in the pool. Follow me." Dan sat up and got to his feet, following the still-clothed – well, almost – woman across the pool deck, his stiff cock waving at the descending sun. She reached the shower first, and alternately twisted the hot and cold knobs until the water cascading from the rainfall showerhead reached a comfortable temperature. She and Dan stepped beneath the showerhead, soaking their bodies in the warm water. Grabbing a bar of soap from the top of one of the walls, Dan stood behind Mrs. Marcus and pulled the neck and back strings of her bikini top, catching it before it fell and tossing it over one of the walls and onto a table near the pool house. He ran the bar across her stomach and between her jutting tits, lathering her body as he went. His lips moved to her neck, planting light kisses along her collarbone and up to her ear. "I love this little body, Belinda." "Hmm," she moaned at his ministrations. "It's all yours . . . for today anyway," she laughed. While Dan was washing her upper body, Mrs. Marcus worked her bikini bottoms down her shapely hips and thighs until they puddled at her ankles. She kicked them off her manicured feet and onto the pool deck, where they fell as a wet tangle of silver lamee. Her vagina now exposed to him, Dan ran his soapy hands down her stomach to her bare lips, washing along the labia, careful not to get any soap into her soppy opening. He moved her back under the showerhead and rinsed her body clean. Dan then rubbed her clitoris with the fingers of one hand while two fingers of the other found her cuntal opening and inserted themselves between the silky folds. "Oh, yes," she moaned. "Fingerfuck me, boy-toy. That's it, yeah. Mmmm!" The slight stretching of her vaginal walls combined with the vigorous manipulation of her engorged clit soon had Mrs. Marcus panting. She turned herself toward Dan and draped her arms around his neck, holding onto him for fear of falling on top of her buckling legs. When Dan trapped her clit between two fingers and tugged and pulled at it, her legs did indeed fail her as an orgasm washed over her athletic little body. "Oh fuck," she whispered, her hot breath flowing into Dan's hear. "Oh fuck." A little louder. "Oh fuck. Ofuck. Ofuck! Ofuuuuuucccckkkk," she screamed as her cunt walls spasmed around Dan's invading fingers, her body shaking and trembling against her young fuck-toy. As her orgasm subsided, Mrs. Marcus relaxed her grip around Dan's neck and got her feet underneath her again. She pulled her head from the young stud's shoulder and her full, red lips and wet, pink tongue lustily attacked his mouth, his tongue reacting to hers. She quickly pulled back from him. "Oh, god," she muttered, a nasty smile curving across her lips, a slutty look casting over her eyes as she looked up at him. Mrs. Marcus reached for the soap and turned Dan around so that he was facing away from her, pushing him up against the shower wall. As Dan braced himself on the top of the wall, she reached around his midsection with both hands. After rubbing the soap between them, she dropped the bar and smoothed the suds over Dan's thick cock. "What are you going to do with this thing?" she whispered from behind him. Dan's eyes had closed as Mrs. Marcus began stroking his cock with the soap suds. He was leaning against the shower wall with her silicone-filled tits pressing into his back when she spoke to him. "Wha . . . whatever you . . . want me to . . . to do," he managed. "Are you gonna fuck me with it?" she taunted as her hands continued to manipulate the swollen shaft that jutted from Dan's groin. "Are gonna pound my nasty little cunt with your fat, young cock?" "Mmm-hmm," he moaned. "Are you going to make me scream like a whore, boy-toy?" Mrs. Marcus held the tip of Dan's cock on one hand, and viciously stroked the long shaft with the other. "Oh god yes, Belinda." "I'm a screamer, boy-toy. Sure you can make me scream?" She released the tip of his cock and with her now-free hand reached underneath him, massaging his balls in the palm of her hand, scraping her long, manicured nails over the loose flesh. "Ffuucckk," Dan grunted. "Fuck what, boy-toy?" she taunted, the hand stroking his cock releasing it, joining her other hand at his balls. "Fuck me? Is that what you want? You wanna jam this monster in my married hole?" Mrs. Marcus had Dan's balls trapped in both hands now, her thumbs wrapped over the top of his shaft, rubbing it at its base. "Yyyeeesss!" Dan nearly screamed, moving underneath the showerhead. He turned to face Mrs. Marcus as the water cascaded over them, rinsing the soap from his body. He grabbed the back of her head, wrapping her long blonde hair in his fist, pulling her into a deep, lustful kiss, their lips mashing against each other, their tongues delving deeply into each other's mouths. Mrs. Marcus, her monstrous, water-soaked tits squeezed between their bodies, raised a leg behind one of Dan's, then moved it higher, until he felt the soft, wet sole of her foot brush against his ass. He guided her toward one of the shower walls and pinned her against it. He bent slightly at the knees, lowering his cock to the level of her soaking cunt, and thrust forward. Mrs. Marcus' outer lips were so lubricated in her own juices that Dan's attempt to spear her failed and his cock slid along the underside of cunt toward her ass cheeks. He pulled back and tried again, but this time his cock slid up the crevice formed by her lips. She laughed at their apparent inability to couple, until his cockhead slid up and over her exposed clit. Instantly, the smile was wiped from her face and a short gasp emitted from between her soft lips. Dan again pulled back, but having enjoyed the sensation of his cock sliding along the slick channel formed by Mrs. Marcus' cunt lips, stroked his shaft along the crevice for a few moments. When he finally pulled back far enough, Mrs. Marcus reached between their trembling bodies and grasped his shaft in her long, delicate fingers, positioning the head right at the entrance to her bald cunt. When it was firmly seated, she reached around him, her nails providing purchase on Dan's firm ass, and pulled him into her. Her lips parted easily, her lubrication flowing freely, and Dan's cock slid into her completely with two thrusts, his pubic hair nestling against her bald cunt lips. "Oh, fuck," he groaned into her ear, pulling his thick shaft halfway out of the sodden hole. "Fucking . . . incredible . . . Belinda." Dan rammed his cock back into her, his pelvic bone crashing into her exposed, engorged clit. "Mrs. Marcus," she groaned, the slate tile at the top of the shower wall biting into her ass cheeks. "Huh?" "Mrs. Marcus. That's what . . . all the . . . college . . . boys . . . call me . . . boy-toy . . . Mrs. Marcus." Her depravity spurred Dan onward. His hands found her tight ass and Mrs. Marcus' arms flew around his neck, holding him tightly, her hair whipping against his face. The force of his thrusts into her elastic hole forced her ass cheeks up and over the rough, tiled edge of the shower wall, his hands fiercely gripping her ass, keeping her steady. Still holding firmly to Dan's neck, Mrs. Marcus leaned back a little, their bodies parting slightly, her right hand releasing its stranglehold on his neck and pulling the back of his head into her. "Suck my tits, boy-toy," she commanded, almost pulling his face down toward her meaty, fake tits. Still pistoning into the married woman's loosened cunt, Dan's lips planted light kisses along the tops of her breasts, his tongue licking gently around her distended nipples. "My nipples," she cried desperately. "Suck my nipples!" Dan granted Mrs. Marcus the relief she craved, taking one thick bud into his mouth, manipulating it with his tongue, lightly nibbling it between his teeth. "Harder," she moaned. Dan sucked the obscene protrusion between his teeth, applying increased pressure. "More!" Mrs. Marcus cried out. Dan clamped his teeth tighter on the pulsing flesh, and she cried out, screwing her eyes shut, visions of the setting sun disappearing behind the blackness of her eyelids. Her hips, beyond the control of her own brain now, bucked against him, trapping her clit between their pelvic bones. Dan continued his rapid-fire penetration of her and felt the warmth from her dripping cunt wash over his shaft. Her body shook and convulsed. He felt her ass cheeks tremble in his tightly gripping fingers, her breathing erratic in his ear, as another orgasm took over her little body. "Oh, shit," she chanted into his ear, her hot breath sending chills up his spine. "Oh, shit, oshit, osht," she mumbled incoherently. Before her orgasm subsided, Mrs. Marcus' eyes fluttered open, her lust apparent. She leaned closer into Dan and, with her one free hand, pushed him back a step and slid of the wall. She turned away from him, facing the villa, and placed her elegant hands on the top of the wall, bracing herself, her long red nails curling over the tile, the obscenely large diamond sparkling in the departing sun. She scooted her feet apart slightly, and Dan needed no instruction. He stepped up behind Mrs. Marcus, but before he could slam his trembling cock back into her, she reached between her legs with one hand and, gripping it firmly in her long fingers, pulled the rod toward her bald cunt. Dan held her trim hips firmly, the flesh almost oozing between his fingers, and slammed his cock into her, his pubic hair crushing between them, his eyes watching the flesh of her ass ripple each time his pelvis crashed into her cheeks. Mrs. Marcus was not a passive player in this game. She thrust back against the rutting college kid, trying to coax his cock deeper into her cheating hole. She kicked her left leg up onto the wall, giving Dan a better – deeper – angle. * * * Unbeknownst to mismatched pair – Dan, the college student, and Mrs. Marcus, the seemingly respectable trophy wife in her late thirties – Amos had returned from his errands. He had pulled the SUV through the courtyard into the four-car garage, and unloaded the groceries and dry-cleaning. Before putting the groceries in the pantry and the clothes in Mrs. Marcus' closet, he walked through the house toward the great room to see if Mrs. Marcus needed him for anything. Entering the great room, he approached the large french doors and paused. What caused him to pause was the sight of Mrs. Marcus bent over in the shower, her young guest behind her, thrusting away. This was not a new sight to Amos. This kid was just another in a long line of college-aged boys that had been charmed by his employer. Amos himself – by no means a student, approaching fifty – had enjoyed her charms, always suspecting that it was payment for his discretion. The sight that greeted him, though, had his cock thickening and pulsing beneath his tight briefs. Mrs. Marcus' bikini top was resting on one of the poolside tables, her bottoms in a wet heap on the deck near the shower. Her dirty blonde hair, wet from the pool and the shower, was plastered against the sides of her face, largely obscuring her classic beauty. Her long, lean arms were stretched out before her, clenched to the top of the low shower wall, bracing her. Her silicone-injected tits, pale against the tan covering the rest of her luscious body, hung from her chest, wobbling to and fro with each thrust the college kid made against her rippling ass cheeks. Amos could see her full, red lips moving, but couldn't hear a sound through the closed windows and the faint hum of the air conditioner. * * * "Fuck me, boy-toy! Treat me like a slutty whore! Stretch my little cunt with your young cock!" Dan, still gripping her hips firmly, concentrated on her backside as the ripples receded across her ass cheeks. For reasons he to this day cannot explain, he reached out and gave Mrs. Marcus a light spank her left ass cheek. "Oh, fuck," she squealed. "Spank me again, boy-toy! . . . I fucking love it. . . . Degrade me!" Dan spanked her harder, then again, and Mrs. Marcus squealed beneath him. "Ooohhh, shit," she spat out as Dan continued to slap her ass. Her body was wracked with another orgasm, and she shook and vibrated on the end of his pistoning cock. Her arms gave out beneath her but Dan's hands, holding tight, kept her from falling over the shower wall. As Mrs. Marcus' orgasm subsided and she regained her balance, Dan kept thrusting into her from behind, eager for his own release. His hands slid up her ribcage and around to the front of her body, finding her meaty, store-bought tits hanging from her trim torso. He squeezed hard and the flesh surrounding the implants squished between his fingers, thick nipples poking into the palms of his hands. Mrs. Marcus' breathing had returned to normal, and she thrust her trim hips back against the invading phallus of the college student that was enjoying her married cunt, her ears assaulted by the grunts of pleasure emanating from his open mouth. * * * In the great room, Amos was enjoying the wanton display of married woman and young man. He watched as the college kid, big fake tits still firmly grasped in his hands, pulled Mrs. Marcus's back toward him. Her palms left the shower wall and she stood almost upright, her back against his chest. The college kid, still slamming his cock into her overheated cunt, wrapped his thick, muscular arms around his employer, his left hand grasping for her right tit, his right for the left. Amos watched the fingers roughly grip the firm, gelatinous flesh, her nipples protruding between them, as the kid continued his penile assault on the older woman. Amos' eyes travel down her body to see the thick cock sliding effortlessly between Mrs. Marcus' bald cunt lips, over and over. Looking back up, he watched as she threw her head back against the college kid's shoulder, her hair whipping up in the kid's face. Her mouth opened in silent ecstasy as the kid's thumbs and forefingers close around her nipples, slowly twisting, but twisting far, distorting the shape of the balloon-like mounds on her chest. * * * "Ohmigod . . . you . . . sonuvabitch," she groaned. "You . . . motherfucker. What are . . . you doing . . . to me?" "I'm . . . fucking you . . . Mrs. Marcus. . . . Isn't that . . . what you . . . wanted?" he taunted the trophy wife, sweat pouring from his brow, dripping down the back of his neck, only to be washed away by the pulsing showerhead. "You're . . . driving me . . . insane!" Dan twisted Mrs. Marcus' nipples again, increasing the pressure on them as he did so, causing her to wail in ecstasy, "Aaaahhhh!!!!" Her body convulsed again, though for much shorter this time. Dan released her plastic tits and pushed Mrs. Marcus back down so that she braced herself against the wall. With one hand on a hip, Dan placed the other in the small of her back and pressed down, causing her back to arch and her hips to rotate. The underside of his cock slid along her pubic bone as he thrust into her, and immediately he felt a welling of cum churn in his balls. "Where . . . should I . . . cum?" he grunted, pulling away from her and pushing back again, once again feeling the exquisite sensation of her pubic bone pressuring the vein that ran along the bottom of his shaft. His hand left the small of her back, grasping to the free hip. "Inside me! Cum inside me!" Mrs. Marcus moaned. "I want to feel your young cock lurch inside my married hole! To feel your cum splatter against my cunt walls!" Dan thrust into her unfaithful cunt again and his cum boiled over from his balls, coursing through the thick shaft, causing it to pulse inside the married woman's hole. Jet after spurt after surge of scorching cum – five in all – splattered against the inner walls of Mrs. Marcus' cunt. Dan's hands remained on Mrs. Marcus' hips as cum continued to pour, drip and dribble from the tip of his cock. She remained resting on her elbows and forearms, her dirty blonde hair, still wet, plastered to her face, as Dan's breath returned to normal. * * * The show ended for Amos. He reluctantly turned away from the window and adjusted the thick, black cock that was twitching within his butler's uniform. "Sure am glad Mr. Marcus doesn't get home until tomorrow," he muttered to himself. He walked through the house and upstairs to the Marcus' bedroom, and put Mrs. Marcus' dry cleaning in the closet. He then sat at the foot of the marital bed, unzipped his pants and fished the thick, veiny shaft from his briefs. After giving it a few tugs, he laid back on the bed. * * * As Dan's cock softened, it slipped from the once-tight folds of Mrs. Marcus' slippery cunt. His cock's desertion allowed his cum to flow from the stretched hole, and it slowly ran down her taut thighs. Mrs. Marcus turned to face him. She wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him close, her tongue darting from between her lips and finding his. After a few moments, she broke the sensual kiss. "Come on, let's get cleaned up," she suggested, pushing Dan back under the shower head. She grabbed the bar of soap and again lathered his body. She felt his cock stir at the attention, but turned the bar of soap over to him. When they were done bathing each other, Mrs. Marcus sauntered into the pool house and gathered Dan's clothes. Returning to the pool deck, she placed them on one of the tables. "Here you go, sweetie. I'm going to run inside and get dressed. Give me about fifteen minutes and I'll give you a ride back to campus." She again kissed him, letting her tongue delve into his mouth, and was off. "You can drive if you want," she offered over her shoulder.