Chapter 8 The Sewing Room

According to Cotton

Wendy stirred, her head came off of the arm rest and she gave me a quizzical look as if to say, 'where am I and who are you?' She had dozed off sometime during my description of my visit to the home of Mrs. P one rainy Saturday night.

Her light snoring had not deterred me from my task. I droned on; determined to give a full account of the night that I watched Mrs. P bake cookies and later helped her loose her cookies in her sewing room. At one point I covered Wendy's bare feet with a quilted blanket I found in the lamp stand. She smacked her lips and made a meowing sound in appreciation.

Putting my audience to sleep did not discourage me from continuing. Wendy had wanted to hear the story and I complied with her wishes. Once into it there was no stopping me; whether she listened or not.

Lydia was ready to call it a night. We had our fun and it was getting chilly in the room; especially given our state of undress. We were sitting on the coverlet with our backs to the small metal cot and our legs touching; basking in the afterglow of intensive and satisfying sex.

Unlike our previous 'encounter,' when she ordered me to 'get off and get out,' we talked. She had told me that the room we were in had been a maid's room at one time but now it was her get-away harbor; a room with a door that locked, masking as her sewing room. She had also told me about her children's father and how she and he had strayed from their ideals. There had been no bitterness in her version of the demise of their marriage. In fact, there had been an admission of guilt on her part.

Our bodies clung together, partly for warmth, party to extend the night that neither of us wanted to end. A few long kisses and a close embrace made it seem almost toasty warm. My hands roamed her back and she pressed her tits to my chest. I felt wetness when my prick brushed her pussy. She pulled away.

"We mustn't," she announced.

I knew her concern. Earlier in the evening she had told me of her worry that she was already pregnant from our romp on the freezer the previous Tuesday night when I had come to pick up the floral display. She had watched closely as I rolled the rubber onto my cock earlier this night.

'Had she not seen the slight bulge in my sock where the second condom was awaiting its call to action? I was almost certain that she knew it was there, making the sock on my left foot look like it was covering a growth.'

"I'll pull out," I offered.

"I've heard that before," she laughed, putting distance between us.

"I'll pull out and cum on your back," was my last argument. She raised her leg and I felt her hand on my shoulder. She was making preparation to stand.

My mouth found her left nipple and my hand palmed her right tit. The hand on my shoulder relaxed. I twisted her nipple.

I felt her hand on my thigh as she leaned close to my ear and whispered, "are you sure?"

I brought my mouth to hers as my left hand rubbed her inner thigh, letting one finger gently brush the outer rim of her pussy. She found my cock and stroked it gently, pulling it closer and closer to her wetness. Her tongue was fucking mine.

I tossed the pillow from the cot to the floor. Lydia knew what to do. She broke our kiss and crawled across the floor. Before she lowered her head to the pillow she looked back at me. Although no words escaped her mouth she appeared to be searching my face for an answer to her question, 'are you sure?'

I gave her a reassuring smile as I took my place behind her. I rubbed my hands over her ass cheeks; they were firm and soft at the same time. She reached between her legs and found me. There was urgency in the way she shifted her right leg to give me access to her cavity which, with the help of some hip action, drew me inside.

Lydia's head did not stay on the pillow. She was up on one hand while the other pulled one of my hands to her tit. I took the hint and did the same thing with my other hand. Her butt was moving in sync with my thrusts. Her hands and her right foot were flat on the floor.

She moved one shoulder to the floor and her head to the pillow but only briefly. Soon she had both hands on the floor again to get more leverage; pushing back, pushing back. Her head swung from side to side with each push. I moved my hands from her tits and attached them at her waist where I could better control our movements or at least try to keep up with them. I pushed deeper. She looked back over her shoulder with an attempted smile but a frenzied mixture of anguish and desire overshadowed it. Her forehead was covered with beads of perspiration which ran down one side of her face. She mouthed, 'fuck me!'

I nearly abandoned my promise to cum on her back when her head bobbed up and down like a filly slowing to a trot after a fast race. I heard little yelps and snorts coming from the woman as she climaxed. I stopped pushing when her head went to the pillow and one of her fists pounded the floor. The pause gave us both a chance to catch our breath. I renewed my resolve to do as I had promised.

When I was sufficiently rested I made short movements to get Lydia's attention. She lifted her head from the pillow and placed her hands flat against the floor again; signaling she was ready to resume our mutual enjoyment.

We glided together, increasing the pace to a flurry that built a rumble in my balls that would be impossible to stem. I warned her verbally that I was pulling out but she did not hear me. A puzzled look came to her face as she slowed her hip movement then brought her self to a stop. She must have felt the spurts of cum hit her back because she gave me a 'good-job' look and then collapsed to the floor.

We lay on the floor catching our breath and grinning at one another. I put my arm around her and stroked her back until I felt the pool of sticky cum which I spread out like icing on a cake. Her hair was matted with perspiration and her eyelids looked drowsy.

At the door she stretched up to give me a peck on the cheek. She was dressed in the slacks and the blouse but her feet were bare. I put my arms around her but she would not move closer.

"This is the last time, you must not come back," there was a resolve in her voice but I also heard anguish that made my heart ache.

When I pulled her to me there was a brief kiss that ended quickly with a final word, "go." I heard the door latch behind me as my foot hit the ground outside.

I slept well that night and walked on air for the next three days but by Wednesday there was an ever present annoyance praying on my mind. Her words, "this is the last time, you must not come back," nagged at my subconscious.

"Cotton, what's wrong with you?" Marcie said, calling my attention to the burning toast. It had popped up but I had absent minded-ly pushed the lever down. The smell had caught the attention of Marcie who hated to cook but hated burned toast even more.

"I'll do it," she said, pushing me aside. "Where is your mind these days? Everything all right at school?"

I assured her that everything was fine. As a decoy, I told her about the upcoming dance and my plans to test my dancing skills.

Marcies dislike of Ellen who had given me dance lessons during her week long visit saved me from further discussion. My absent minded blunders, caused by my preoccupation with my status with Mrs. P, went undetected for the balance of the week.

The following Friday night I took Patsy King to the high school dance. It was my first date with someone younger than myself. It was fun to be with kids my own age and the date was enjoyable, but frustrating. Our petting session ended abruptly when the couple we were with got into a disagreement and we went home early.

On Saturday morning Patsy's former boyfriend paid me a visit to gave me a forceful warning to stay away from, 'his girl.' Marcie saved me from taking a beating. For me, that was the end of Patsy King. My small world had crumbled. All I had left were the memory of Mrs. P turning from her position on the coverlet as she mouthed, 'fuck me,' and the lingering smell of Patsy's dried juices on my middle finger.

That night Tad had just arrived when the telephone rang. He and Marcie were having a heated discussion about how they would spend their evening together. She wanted to scrap their plans to see a movie because the feature had already started.

"It's already five past eight and by the time we get there it will be twenty past," she whined as she went to answer the telephone.

There was no one on the line which made her slam down the receiver in disgust. Tad was patiently holding her coat and waiting for her at the front door. "We'll go to the drive-in, it doesn't matter when you get there," he joked.

Marcie's disposition turned, she grinned up at him and gave him a peck on the lips. "Really?" she cooed.

"What are you going to do tonight, Cotton?" Marcie asked me as Tad held the door open for her. I had planned on jumping into the shower as soon as they were out the door, then walking over to Mrs. P's house and waiting until the lights in her house went out. There was always the possibility that she had changed her mind about seeing me again.

"Oh, not much. Maybe I'll take a walk after while." My words fell on deaf ears, they were already outside.

I decided to shave first and that was a good thing because I would not have heard the telephone ring had I been in the shower. It was 8:13 P.M. when I picked up the receiver.

"Is she still there? If she is just hang up," I heard Lydia say.

"No, no they're gone," I rushed the answer.

"Oh, good," was followed by a sigh and then, "would you like to come over? I have a surprise for you." Her voice trailed off, faintly warm, pleading.

"Sure, I mean sure, when, when should I come?" I stammered, trying to hide my excitement.

"As soon as you can?" she asked, there was a gentle urgency in her voice.

I cut my chin while shaving and my body was not completely dry as I raced out the door. Then, I remembered the condoms and I had to go back inside to stuff one in each sock. I ran most of the way; only slowing down the last block so as not to attract attention and to catch my breath.

She was wearing the dress with the buttons down the front and I noticed some makeup on her face. I leaned in to get a whiff of her perfume and told her she smelled nice. She seemed happy to see me. "Did anyone see you?" she asked me, expectantly.

"I don't think so, aren't your children here?" I whispered, astonished at my good fortune of being invited and not having to wait until the lights went out before I tried to get her attention so I could beg my way into her home.

"They're both on sleep-over with friends," she said, taking my hand as we walked along the porch.

When we got to the freezer I looked at it longingly as I deposited my jacket there.

"Don't get any ideas," Lydia laughed. It was good to see her in such a good mood.

At the kitchen she turned to me, "would you like to go to the sewing room or to my bedroom upstairs? There's light in the sewing room but not in my bedroom, I don't want the neighbors to get any ideas."

We were standing in front of the kitchen stove with the lighted clock but that was not the source of the glow that shined within us. There was a gaiety in the air; the joy of being together again. We were at a crossroads, 'which way to go? it was my choice.' I took her into my arms and kissed her. "I want the light," I said.

She did not lock the door behind us. The blinds were already drawn and the small table lamp faintly lit the room.

"It's a lower wattage bulb," she explained. I nodded my approval, still amazed at my luck to be in the sewing room with her. 'No children at home and a dim light; this must have been prearranged,' I thought.

"Nice surprise," I commented.

She came to me and whispered in my ear, "That's not the surprise. You're not going to be a papa, isn't that great news?" Her body quivered slightly in my arms. I drew her closer to express my relief at the news.

"That's why I wanted you to come here tonight. I wanted you to know and there was no other way to tell you. It's not like I could call you on the 'phone or come by and see you," she whispered in my ear. Her body was soft and warm in my arms; the pent-up worry that both of us had suppressed for too long was drained from our bodies. It felt good to hold her.

"It's good news," I agreed, moving my lips to hers.

The kiss was brief. She pulled away and moved to the cot where she leaned her back to the wall and sat with her legs drawn up under the dress. She motioned for me to come sit near her.

She took my hand in hers but kept her distance. "I had to pull some strings to get the kids out of the house. Did Marcie suspect anything when she answered the 'phone and no one was there?"

"She was aggravated I guess. They were on their way out, two more minutes and they would have been gone," I answered, not wanting to waste time talking about how Marcie felt with regards to the dead telephone line. I tried to move closer but Lydia squeezed my hand and pushed it back toward me to let me know I should stay put. We sat in silence for a full minute.

She squeezed my hand again and I squeezed back. We were like two teenagers on a first date, neither quite knowing what to say or do next.

"Are you relieved?" she asked, quietly, her voice was distant and she was avoiding me by looking straight ahead. Her grip on my hand had lessened.

I didn't know what to say. Frankly, I hadn't thought much about the consequences of her being pregnant. There were too many other things occupying my mind. 'How I could manage to be with her again, was she really serious about ending it, what had I done to deserve this treatment,' and other such thoughts had overtaken my life.

As I let the enormity of what-could-have-been sink in, a little shudder rocked my shoulders and I said, "yes, I'm very relieved, thank you for giving me the news."

Lydia squeezed my hand again but still looked straight ahead. Solemnly, she spoke, "you see why this can't continue, I did another foolish thing the other night, nothing like that will happen again".

She looked my way. I could tell she was seeking some indication that I understood what she was telling me. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," I answered, reluctantly. My world was shattered, she was telling me it was over. She squeezed my hand again and I moved my thumb over the back of hers. It was soft but muscular like the other parts of her body.

She was using the hand movements as a buffer between us to establish a boundary, not be crossed. The hand squeezing was a silent way of expressing her feelings. I had to find a way to penetrate the line and get closer to her. Something needed to happen soon, by the feel of her hand the end to this rendezvous was near.

I had it!

"I would never do anything to put you in jeopardy," I said, turning to her in complete seriousness.

"Jeopardy!" she screamed, pulling her hand away. "You wouldn't do anything to put me in jeopardy? What did you call that?" She was pointing to the floor in front of us where we had done it doggy style without protection only seven days before. "What was that? Me on my knees, taking you from the rear and you without a condom, what was that if it wasn't placing me in jeopardy," her voice was still raised and her face was wildly agitated. "Don't tell me you would never DO anything," she continued, screaming. There was a blue line that extended from her left eyebrow to her hairline.

I had clearly said the wrong thing. I had expressed my feelings badly, said it wrong. Do I dare try again?

"Didn't you enjoy it?" I knew the answer, it had been her that swung two gorgeous ass cheeks in the air and offered her pussy to me. In addition, I was almost certain she had seen the second rubber in my sock.

The question took her by surprise. At first she pretended that she had not heard me but the question had quieted her. A smile appeared on her lips and she nodded, still not looking at me. I wrapped my arm around her and she came willingly.

We kissed and I fingered one of the buttons on her dress. "It was more my fault than yours, I could see you had another condom, I should have insisted that you use it."

"It was my fault too," I said. "I should have used the rubber."

"Cotton?" her lips were pressed to my ear. I had the top two buttons to her dress undone.

I nodded my head to let her know I was listening while unfastening another button.

"We can't let that happen again, Okay?"

"Okay," I said in a low serious tone.

"Don't ask me to because, you know, I might let you do it again. I'm afraid Cotton, I'm afraid of myself."

When I didn't answer she shook me playfully, "do you hear me?" she asked.

I mumbled something as we kissed. As the forth button was undone I slid my hand inside her dress and felt bare skin. At first I didn't think she was wearing a bra but there it was, lacy and soft. I reached behind her to undo a single clip. Lydia squirmed around to give me a shorter reach.

"I didn't intend for you to do that," she whispered. "Its new and you were suppose to see it on me."

"What do you want? For me to put it back?" My hand was already under the bra, massaging one of her breasts.

"Unbutton the others," she said, whispering although there was no need to be quiet, her voice was supplicating, yet soft. She broke away and began to peel my clothes off with a flurry of energy as I labored with the buttons.

I kicked off my shoes and let my pants drop to the floor. My prick sprang out through the front opening of my boxers. We stood facing one another. Lydia's dress was open at the front and the bra hung loosely over her breasts.

"Hold that pose," she said, dropping the dress to the floor as she turned toward the dressing table where the lamp stood.

"An. oth. er. sur. pr. ise," she sang, as she returned. The bra was now fastened and left almost nothing to the imagination. The black skimpy panties barely camouflaged the target of my desire. She posed, first with one leg bent at the knee and arms spread to demonstrate what the underwear was doing to enhance her perfect figure. When I nodded my appreciation she smiled and turned to give me a view of her rear. Her scantily clad ass cheeks glistened under their lacey covering and the narrow bra strap clung to her rippled back.

When she turned again I noticed the package in her left hand. "Here's the surprise," she said, handing me a package of 12 condoms.

I was overwhelmed, "What was that?" I asked, referring to the display I had just witnessed. My cock was bobbing between us, responding to the lacy undies and the attention Lydia was giving it.

"These?" she asked, with one thumb under the front strap of the bra and another under the waist band of the panties. "These are a surprise too. Would you like to take them off or should I wear them?" This was delivered in a little-girl, high-pitched voice and she wore a goofy smile on her face. She put one thumb in her mouth and made her eyes bulge before getting serious again.

"Put one on," she ordered, rocking back and forth as if she was moving to music.

The package or rubbers looked expensive although I had never heard of the brand. She watched closely as I fumbled, first with my boxers and later getting the package open. Once the rubber was in place Lydia took my cock in her hand and gave it a how-do-you-do shake while giggling like a child.

"Time's wasting, let's get to it," she said, turning to the cot, about to remove the coverlet. It was to be spread out on the floor as was had done before.

I touched her arm and when she looked at me I shifted my eyes to the cot and back to her to suggest we use it instead of the floor. With a naughty grin on her face and a twinkle in her eye she jumped into the center of the cot, making a crunching sound as her butt bounced on the thin mattress. I pulled on her legs to bring her close to the lower end so my body, especially my stiff prick, could hang down without being painfully pinned under me

"Don't stretch them," her head came off the pillow; she was watching me move the underside of her lace panties aside in order to gain access to her pussy lips. I looked to her for a better plan.

"Just pull them down," she smiled, lifting her butt for me. Our four hands and her two legs worked feverishly to free her of the lace panties which, only a few minutes before, had been the object of our attention. She flung the tiny piece of lace toward the lamp.

Her dark pubic hair had been trimmed neatly and had been drenched in an aromic scent that I did not waste time trying to identify but it was gratifying to think that she had prepared for this moment. Her lips parted with the slightest pressure from my tongue and turned inside out, yielding the sensitive softness of her wetness.

Lydia's legs changed positions without warning, neither of us knew which direction their movements would take, from straight up in the air to wide open to bent back to her armpits, then over my shoulders to capture my head. She expressed herself with her leg movement and with husky, halted utterances coming from deep within throat, "do. do that. don't. do. ah. do. yes. ah. tha. " Her butt danced from side to side and jumped from the cot with abandon.

When I flicked her clit there was a stream of unintelligible blabber, "coz. mos. cu. mmm. go. god. do. don'. sto. plez. " as her thighs gripped my head. "Ahhhhh, Ahhhh, Ahhhh," then her legs went limp, freeing me.

Lydia's chest heaved, rising and falling in an effort to refill her lungs with air and to regain her composure. There was a half smile on her face as she stroked and patted the top my head, contentedly.

"Let me. let me catch. oh, Cotton, that was so nice. let me, then we'll fuck. okay? I want to fuck. we'll fuck. okay?" Her hands were firmly fixed to my head, holding me some two inches from her pussy.

I stuck out my tongue, playfully. This was returned by a frightened gaze and increased pressure on my head. "Cotton, no. My period lasted until Thursday, I'll be sore, let's just fuck, okay honey, we'll fuck." Her eyes pleaded with me but I was in a jovial mood. My tongue darted out again, harmlessly.

"COTTON, I SAID NO!"

"MOM," followed by knocking that rattled the door, "MOM, are you all right?"

{to be continued}

According to Lydia

I tried, God knows I tried to stay in character but it didn't work. Reminding myself that I was the 'Reining Queen Bitch' and owed it to myself and my followers to act accordingly. But seeing the forlorn figure standing across the street in the light rain like a young pup with an itch, and knowing it was Cotton, made me want to be the young pup's bitch.

As I watched the figure stand on the wall I wondered if he could smell my inflamed labia and if he was getting a whiff of my desire for 'One More Time.'

The smells allured him, first to my kitchen and then to my sewing room where we had fantastic sex on the floor, after which we talked like adults, disregarding the difference in our ages.

"We mustn't," I warned him but I could see that he would persist. 'I'm so weak,' I thought, knowing I was close to giving in. I even practiced, in my mind, what I would say. "Take the other condom out of your sock and we'll do it once more, then you must leave." But I didn't say anything.

"I'll pull out," he said, with so much confidence that I almost fell for it. I joked about having heard that line before. His hand roamed my back, making my skin tingle and his cock bounced around my most sensitive areas.

"I'll pull out and come on your back," he whispered in my ear and I nearly crumbled. 'I must be strong, this can not happen, why am I even considering letting it happen?'

With resolve, I placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to lift myself to my feet. I would stand, I thought, and if he got to his feet to pursue me I would insist that he use the other condom. Otherwise, I would show him to the door.

But just as I put my weight on him I felt his lips on my nipple and a hand on my other tit which seized my being and forced my body to shrink back into his arms. Without deliberation, I bent to his ear and whispered, "are you sure?"

Getting his assurance that he could pull out, which now I realize was not audible; his continued flicking and sucking on one of my nipples while mauling the other was convincing. I crawled across the coverlet and invited him to follow, to mount me from the rear.

Nothing else mattered, I wanted him in me. I even turned my head and mouthed, "fuck me!"

And he did. I wanted it hard and that's what I got. I urged him to take my tits in his hands and that's what I got. I announced to my neighbors and anyone else in the vicinity how good it was and that I was coming, coming, coming. From his position, Cotton could not control my exuberance but he tried to control the erratic movement my butt was making. I felt his hands on my hips, holding, freeing, holding, freeing in an effort to match the timing of our thrusts.

Cotton kept his word and spilled his seed on my back but I didn't hear his warning and kept pumping, fucking air for a time. We spread out on the coverlet and celebrated the pleasure we had bestowed upon each other. I let myself, and him, revel. But as they say, everything must come to an end and that is what I told Cotton. Clearly and with resolve, I made him understand that this was the last time. He was not to return. At the door we kissed and I told him, "Go!"



The warnings came late Sunday night and by early Monday morning it was there; that time of the month, that makes a woman irritable, quarrelsome and a pain to be around. I was overjoyed! I counted my blessings.

On Tuesday I sat with a cup of tea, thinking that I should be proud of myself for laying down the law, there would be no more visits. 'Cotton had understood that,' I told myself.

On Wednesday I had second thoughts. 'What if he did not believe me? What if he comes around trying to see me again? What if I let him?' That's simple, I won't let him in, I'll be strong,' I thought.

Thursday was a day of decision. I considered and reconsidered the risks and consequences of seeing, what I really meant was fucking, Cotton again. Was I crazy or just acting that way? What was I thinking? I walked from room to room, wondering how I had gotten there. Being found out would be my demise but so would not acting on my desires. I had needs and there was a young man who was willing and able to fulfill them. Deliberation was futile; the decision had already been made. One more time.

On Friday I drove fifty miles from home to make a purchase and ended making two. There were only two people in the small drug store, a young female clerk who I walked past as if she was a mannequin, daring her to question my presence or to follow me, and a pharmacist who looked to be about age 50.

He wore a white jacket with pens in the pocket and had a thin mustache with one unruly hair that dragged on his lower lip; something I found disconcerting. He had observed my entrance, I was dressed in riding pants and boots, a flannel shirt and a hat that I had found in a box in the back of my closet: it was what we had referred to as the 'Al Capone' hat during its short lived popularity, and he came from behind his pill boxes to greet me.

Directly, and in my 'queen of bitches,' tone I announced, "I'm here to buy prophylactics."

Without hesitation, the man in the white jacket showed me his selection of latex protection devices. He described the various materials, strengths, qualities and even the colors of different packages which he produced, one at a time, from a locked showcase as if he was selling me a new automobile.

I chose two packages containing 12 condoms each, which the pill man described as thin, yet durable to afford enjoyable, yet secure pleasure, because I liked the slick black packaging, not because of anything the druggist had said.

The clerk was bent down behind the perfume counter when I made my exit, expecting, I was sure, for me to produce a riding crop and swing it wildly if she showed her head.

At my car a block away from the drug store I threw the hat in the back seat, unpinned my hair to let it fall and took several deep breaths to satisfy myself that I was still alive. Then I crossed the street to a lingerie shop to purchase two sets of black lace underwear, so shear and skimpily they were 'naughty', personified.

When I got home I hid my purchases in the sewing room and my bedroom. Then I telephoned friends of mine who had children the same age as Lisa and Junior. Casually, I arranged for my kids to spend Saturday night with their families. While I surmised that they were suspicious of my requests, the mothers did not ask questions. In fact, they were honored to be entrusted with my children in their homes for an entire night.

Junior was pleased to learn that he had been invited to a sleep over but Lisa complained that my friend's daughter was not one of her friends and furthermore, spending an entire night with the girl could cause her own social status to take a serious downslide. How did I know? It was too late to make other arrangements. I was desperate. Breaking one of my most strict parenting rules, I bribed her with the promise of a shopping excursion to an exclusive clothing store.

Saturday was a day for preparation. I spent the morning with the kids, helping them plan how to dress and what to take with them. The guilt that I was feeling for pushing them out of the house so that I could cavort with Cotton nearly caused me to cancel our plans, the children's and mine. But in the end, my craving to satisfy my own needs won out.

After delivering the children to their respective host families I took a long hot bubble bath and pampered my body with lotions and powder. While in the tub I shaved my legs and neatly trimmed my virginal hair.

It was only 6:00 P.M.; two hours to wait. I had second thoughts. My plan was to call him and invite him over but what if Marcie was there? What excuse could I use for calling her employee? There was, I decided, no plausible reason for a 35 year old divorced mother of two to call an 18 year old high school student at 8:00 P.M. on Saturday night.

All would be for naught, the trip to the drug store for condoms, the purchase of sexy underwear and coaxing my children out of the house had been done in vain. I went to my room to change clothes, I would scrap the idea.

As I removed the simple house dress that buttoned down the front I looked in the mirror. My reflection looked strange as if I was looking at myself for the first time. I rubbed my hand over my tummy and thought, 'he's touched me there.' I turned to see the flesh of my ass cheeks extending below the black lace. Cupping the smooth skin I thought, 'he's touched me there.' Soon my hands were flying over my body and thinking, 'he's touched me here, here and here and I want him to do it again, one more time.'

Marcie answered the phone and I hung up. 'Why was she still there? Did she not have the usual Saturday night date with Tad? Some said that he would never marry her, others said she would not marry him. There was an age difference and Tad, the state senator, had been married before. Marcie was nearly as old as I was. Why was I even thinking about this? All that mattered was that Cotton answered my call and that I could lure him to my home.' I would wait and try once more.

He arrived somewhat out of breath. I noticed his wet hair and there was a cut on his chin. He wanted to know if my children were there and I told him no. I had told him on the phone that I had a surprise for him. I lead him to the kitchen and gave him the choices: we could go to my bedroom with no lights or to the sewing room with a small lamp. He chose the sewing room.

I didn't lock the door because there would be no one to disturb us. He noticed the dim light and thought that was the surprise. I stepped to him to tell him the surprise, "you're not going to be a papa, isn't that good news?"

At first I didn't think he understood but later he sighed and I could see how relieved he was. We sat on the cot and talked. I wanted to make sure that he understood how foolish we had been. I told him how vulnerable I was, how I might be swayed to let him enter me without protection. He promised that he would not ask me again.

However, when he said he would never do anything to jeopardize me I blew up, saying, "what did you think that was?" pointing to the floor where we had done it doggy style only a week before.

It took him a long time to settle me down but soon we were in each others arms. He soon had four buttons on my dress undone and my bra unfastened. I told him to undo the rest of my buttons while I undressed him.

But I wanted him to see me in my new underwear. I refastened the bra as I went to get the condoms. As I turned I could see how excited the new underwear was making him. I did a little sexy song: "An. oth. er. sur. pr. ise," and strutted for him. I even turned to give him a view of how my ass cheeks filled out the narrow band of lace.

He was quite taken back when I handed him the condoms. He was overwhelmed, not knowing what to say.

"Put one on," I ordered, rocking back and forth from my toes to my heals, anticipating what was to follow. I took his cock in my hand to inspect its cover and felt it throb. This is what I wanted, what I had dreamed about, what I had schemed for.

"Time's wasting, let's get to it," I said, a woman possessed with desire. Why was I rushing things? We had plenty of time, I had arranged that. But I wanted to make the most of it, to squeeze every drop of cum out of my young lover. I deserved it. Besides, this would be the last time, I thought, already regretting my vow to end it.

As I reached for the coverlet to spread it out on the floor as we had done before he touched my shoulder and motioned toward the cot, smiling. He was reminding me that tonight, we could make noise and why not use the cot. 'Why not,' I thought.

I jumped on the cot and remembered how old it was as the springs made a squeaking sound when my butt hit the mattress. Cotton joined me on the cot, pulling me down to the end where he knelt. He begins to kiss, from my ankles to my cunt.

"Don't stretch them," I cautioned as he started to remove my panties. But I really didn't care if he tore them off and they were ruined, so be it. This would be the last time and I would have no more use for sexy underwear. If this was so, 'Why had I bought two pair?'

"Just pull them down," I said, lifting my butt to help him and noticing that the crotch was wet as I tossed them behind me. I was glad that I had spent time making my legs and virginal region smooth and sweet smelling. His face was buried in my pussy and I was going wild.

Everything was working to plan. This was what I had waited for and I wanted to enjoy it. With the children out of the house I could let myself go. I didn't know what I was screaming, I just wanted him to know how good he was making me feel. The poor little cot must have taken a beating as my butt bucked and my legs slammed down against the mattress, trying to capture the pleasure that I was receiving. My hands held his head to my cunt as I screamed, "do. do that. don't. do. ah. do. yes. ah. tha. "

"I'm com. I'm. Cot. ton. I'm. " I kept coming and he kept licking, I couldn't make him understand. He flicked my clit again, "Ahhhhh, Ahhhh, Ahhhh." My legs went limp and I couldn't catch my breath. I finally got his attention when I took him by the ears and lifted his head.

"Let me. let me catch. oh, Cotton, that was so nice. let me, then we'll fuck. okay? I want to fuck. we'll fuck. okay?" My hands were firmly fixed to his head, holding him two inches from my pussy.

I was covered with sweat and the bra was restricting my breathing. My arms were so tired that I let his head go. I looked down to see him watching me, grinning.

He stuck out his tongue again as if he was measuring the distance to my clit. I pleaded with him, "Cotton, no. My period lasted until Thursday, I'll be sore, let's just fuck, okay honey, we'll fuck." I couldn't take anymore. When his tongue darted out again, I screamed,

"COTTON, I SAID NO!"

"MOM," followed by knocking that rattled the door, "MOM, are you all right?"