Dirty Becky Page 2

  Terrifying. Mostly because of the question it inspired. Why? Why would a woman like Becky, a feminist of the second wave, an educated woman who aspired to the hallowed halls of academia, not only allow a man to treat her in that way but seem to enjoy it as well? “You liked it?”

  I almost had to squeeze my eyes shut to endure her answer. I dared myself to leave them open, to gaze at the face of innocence as she explained why on earth she would crave such defilement.

  “I didn’t like it, Jeff,” she said, shaking her head. “I loved it.”

  This time I actually winced. If someone had told me that there was such an unholy place inside a man’s mind I never would have believed it. I had to find and feel it for myself. And now that I was there I had to wallow in it. Had to poke and prod at every ache and pain within me, had to become a disciple of it, study it until it wasn’t so powerful. I knew the only way to disarm it was by letting it explode. “Holy shit,” I whispered, staring into the gaping abyss it presented.

  Becky watched me, pondering my reaction. A few times she opened her mouth to say something but didn’t speak. One eyebrow lifted slightly. She tucked her hand under the sheets.

  I saw the shape of it as it slid lower toward my crotch. I felt a tickle as the tips of her fingers glanced against my raging erection. I groaned as she wrapped her fist around my member. “You like it,” she whispered. “You like this?”

  I was mesmerized by her smiling expression. I nodded and groaned again as she pumped her hand along my cock, pausing at the tip then twisting it around my glans.

  “You like thinking about me fucking another man,” she stated.

  My resolve wobbled. Could I really admit this? What would it do to us? What would it do to me, to have her knowing about this particular predilection. Now that I’d revealed this secret it felt a little raw, like a wound exposed to fresh air. “I don’t know why,” I admitted.

  Becky pushed her hand down to the root of my cock and squeezed. “Does it matter?” she asked.

  Did it? I couldn’t tell. I was too consumed by the hurricane churning inside of me. “I don’t make…I don’t fuck you like that,” I said, letting yet another dark fear spill out of me.

  Becky tilted her head to one side. “You don’t fuck me, Jeff,” she said. “We make love. There’s a difference. And I love the way we do. Don’t you ever, not for a fucking instant, believe I don’t. You understand?” Her grip on me tightened.

  I groaned again, then nodded. “Uh-huh,” I said.

  “Jeffery Adams,” Becky said, eyes narrowing. “Here I was thinking you were a squeaky-clean, missionary-loving, doting husband. You’re not that at all, are you?” She bit her lip again.

  I was dazed by the spell she’d cast over me. I shook my head.

  “You’re a dirty little pervert, aren’t you?” She pumped my cock again.

  I grunted at the sudden pleasure. “I…I guess I am,” I admitted, as much to myself as to her.

  “Well you know what?” she said, pressing her hand against my chest and rolling me onto my back.

  “What?”

  She grabbed her shirt and tore it off over her head. “That just makes me love you even more.” Her large breasts flopped out, long nipples already hard over her wide, pink aureole.

  I gasped at the sight, my hands reaching up to touch her tits.

  “Slightly uptight, penny-pinching bio-ethicist who occasionally wears bow-ties has a dirty little secret? I fucking love it.” She lingered on the “L” in love, making it sound very tawdry.

  “Hey!” I complained, scowling at her. “I’m not uptight. Or penny-pinching.”

  Becky put her hands on her generous hips and cocked her head. “Jeff. You drive a fifteen year old car and not once have you talked dirty to me.”

  I balked at the characterization. But she was right. “You like dirty-talk?” I whispered.

  “Only from the men I marry,” she replied. Leaning forward she cupped her hand under her breast and mashed it against my mouth, forcing the nipple between my lips.

  An instinct gripped me and I began to suckle at her teat.

  Becky groaned her excitement, grinding her pussy against my cock.

  I could feel her wetness soaking through her underwear and pyjama bottoms I was wearing.

  “Oh fuck,” Becky moaned. “This is so hot, Jeff! I thought you were a total fucking square!”

  I was too caught up in my own arousal to be offended. My hips bucked, cock flexing, aching to be inside her. “Ride me,” I whispered, my first foray into trying to talk dirty to my wife. “I want to be inside you.” My voice was muffled by her breast.

  Becky straightened. Reaching between her legs she yanked my pyjama bottoms down until my cock sprang out. She eyed it with a lusty snarl, then peeled her underwear off to one side, exposing her dripping cleft. “Look how fucking wet you made me,” she hissed.

  But instead of splitting her neat peach and sheathing me inside herself, she spread her legs and settled onto me, her wet coating the underside of my cock, pressing it against my pelvis.

  I groaned as she slid back and forth. As her entrance yawned open I saw her engorged clit.

  “You like that, my dirty little pervert?” Becky cooed. “You like watching my pussy sliding on your cock?” She reached up, grabbed her tits, then brought a nipple up to her mouth and slurped it in. They were that big. It fell out of her mouth with another wet slurp. “You like thinking of another man’s cum inside this pussy?” she whispered, a devious smile curling her lips. “Oh god!” she moaned, throwing her head back and riding me harder.

  The wetness of her sex, her filthy mouth and knowing that another man had been in her, had left his seed there, drove me to the brink. “Becky, god, Becky,” I panted, hands falling to her hips. “You’re gonna’ make me come!”

  Her eyes shot open. She grabbed my dick. Lifting herself, she tucked it in between her legs and fell.

  I roared as her infinitely gentle, infinitely quivering thing enveloped me.

  “Fuck it into me, baby,” she ordered. “Fuck your seed into me. Make me pregnant!” She fell forward, supporting herself with her hands on my chest, ass pumping as she rode me toward her own climax.

  I came like a rocket screaming toward heaven. Gush after creamy gush of my semen pumped through my cock and into Becky’s clenching pussy. At the apex of my ejaculation, she shrieked, her already tight hole closing around me as her pussy sucked more cream from my body. Her nails dug into my chest.

  We soared through that climax together and came out the other end changed. Falling toward earth again, I think both of us realized that life would never be the same.

  Becky collapsed onto me laughing, sweaty and panting, caressing my pecs with her fingers. “That was fucking hot,” she whispered. “For a bio-ethicist.”

  I wasn’t even mad. I could not believe my good fortune at having found her. We fell asleep curled together under the sheets.

  Chapter Three

  I woke up the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of coffee drifting up from the kitchen. Dragging myself out of bed and into my slippers, I trudged downstairs, bleary-eyed and groggy.

  Becky was bouncing around the kitchen spilling things. Coffee sloshed inside her cup as she took a break from the mixing bowl to take a sip. A dollop of it splattered onto her shirt, accompanied by a string of muttered expletives.

  I watched her from the hallway with a half-stiff morning erection, wondering what I’d done to deserve this creature.

  She must have sensed my presence because as she picked up the mixing bowl, she spun around on her toes and flashed a wide grin. “Morning sleepy-head!” she sang. The t-shirt she was wearing fell just below her hips but not low enough to cover up the fact she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

  I stared, no, leered at her, already feeling more comfortable in my new role of pervert-voyeur.

  “Like what you see?” Becky said, then winked. She set the bowl down and took five lilting steps to where
I was standing. Kissing me on the cheek, she ran her index finger down my chest and hooked it into the elastic of my underwear. Her eyes fell and she gazed at my stiffening muscle. “Jeff?” she whispered. Her voice was full of mischief.

  “Yes?”

  She bit her lip and looked up at me again. “You know that thing I said last night?”

  “Which one?” I asked, the memory of our lewd coupling racing through my mind again.

  She drew in a breath and hesitated. “That thing about a baby.”

  Oh. My stomach sank a little. Not really what I’d been hoping to hear.

  “I know it’s only been six months and we haven’t talked about family very much,” she explained. “But you did say you wanted to start one.”

  I wrestled back the sigh that I was about to emit. “Of course, sweetie,” I said, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I just thought that maybe, you know, we could wait a little? Have a little time to ourselves?”

  Becky nodded and lowered her gaze. “I know. I thought that too.” She looked up at me again with puppy eyes. “But something’s changed.” She grabbed my arm. “I feel it, Jeff. Feel it so deeply. It’s like this…this need that just won’t quit. It’s not in my mind, this thing. It’s right here,” she said, grabbing her abdomen with her other hand and squeezing. She shook her head. “I can’t explain it any better,” she conceded.

  She didn’t need to. I understood what she was talking about because that place just above her pelvis was the seat of my need, too. How I wanted to drive into her right then. To rut myself into her sex and plant something there. But as erotic as that seemed the inevitable responsibility that followed would put quite a damper on our marriage.

  I’d seen what happened to people when they had kids. Sure, many marriages survived. Some didn’t end so well. And, of course, there was another reason for my skepticism. I felt like we’d uncovered something the previous night, Becky and I. The heat of the kink we’d indulged in still burned inside me. I didn’t want to let that go. Not just yet. “Sweetheart,” I said, brushing her cheek with the backs of my fingers. “I love you. I want to give you anything and everything that will make you happy. It’s just, this is such a big deal. It’s not something we can take back or change once we make the decision. Are you sure you really want this? What about your career?”

  Becky leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. “Don’t you worry about any of that,” she whispered, her breath hot on my cheek.

  It sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

  “I want you to put a baby in me.”

  My body betrayed me. My cock throbbed beneath the robe I was wearing, the motion catching Becky’s attention. She glanced down at it, eyes widening, lips parting slightly.

  Her expression couldn’t have conveyed more clearly what she was thinking. This was her way in. Her eyes darted up to look into mine again. “Yeah?” she whispered. “You like that? You like thinking of me with a big swollen belly?”

  More hardening between my legs. I sighed and slouched. “Sweetie,” I muttered. How was I going to explain to her that just because the idea turned me on the reality was far less appealing? “What about…what about last night?”

  Her brow furrowed. “What about it?”

  “Last night was so hot. If we start a family…” To my surprise Becky’s enthusiasm didn’t flag at my unspoken criticism.

  Her smile twisted into something slightly more wicked. “You know I thought about that too. And I have an idea,” she said.

  Four words that would change my life forever. My heart skipped a beat at the way she was staring at me. A burst of adrenaline shot through me. What on earth could she be thinking? “You do?”

  Becky responded with a slow nod. “I do,” she said. “Want to hear it?”

  I hesitated. Whatever it was, it had brought back the wild look in her eye. This, I must admit, was a little bit scary. I braced myself. “Shoot.”

  Lifting her hand she brought her finger to her lips and held it there for a moment, as if contemplating whether to share her idea with me. “You want to be my dirty little pervert?” she whispered, eyes glinting.

  Her question sent a powerful shock of lust rushing through me. My cock flexed and my heart started beating harder in my chest. “I do,” I said, nodding in assurance. It was a surprise that she was bringing up our dirty little game again, considering what she’d opened with.

  “Well I want to be your dirty little slut.”

  I sucked in a short breath. What? Where was she going with this? I couldn’t begin to come up with what to say to this. What did she mean? I reached out and tried to put my hands on her hips and pull her closer instead.

  “Ah, ah, ah!” she said, prying my arms away from her waist. “Not so fast. You haven’t heard my whole idea yet.”

  I dutifully kept my hands to myself but couldn’t help stealing a glance at her nipples which had begun to harden beneath her shirt.

  “I’m on my last round of birth control before I have to renew my prescription.”

  Ideas began to coalesce in my mind. Becky wanted to get pregnant. Now she was teasing me with hot sex. What sort of thing was she about to propose, exactly?

  Becky went on. “That gives us a month. A month to do whatever we like. A month to fulfill your, no, our dirtiest fantasies. And I will, Jeff. I’ll do whatever you tell me to. I’ll be your little bimbo, your fuck-doll, your dirty Becky.”

  I could barely form a sentence. Dirty little Becky? Nothing had ever sounded so appealing. “That…that sounds amazing,” I said, breathless.

  Becky nodded. “Doesn’t it?” she asked. Her hand rose between us and she caressed the underside of my stiff cock with the tips of her fingers. “But…”

  I held my breath.

  “…once the month is up I go off of birth control and we get busy making a baby.” The same wild look from the night before lit up her eyes again. “What do you say?” she asked.

  As if I had a choice. As if any man would, hearing his wife make that sort of proposition. “You’ll…you’d really do that?” I asked quietly, gazing into her eyes.

  “For you, Jeff, anything,” she answered.

  “It’s so dirty,” I said. The tension was so thick in the air between us I could taste it. “I had no idea you were like this.”

  Becky giggled. Her tits shook beneath her shirt. “I’m not,” she said. “Not for anyone. But I love you and I want you to be happy. And you were so turned on last night and it was so hot I kind of want to see where it takes us.”

  As certain as she sounded I needed to be sure we were talking about the same thing. “You’re saying that you’ll…”

  “I’ll do anything,” she said, interrupting. “You want to have wild sex three times a day? Done. You want me on my hands and knees anytime you ask? Done.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I stood stock still staring at Becky and wondering if maybe I was dreaming? “Are you…are you serious?” I whispered.

  Her smile faded. The wild look in her eyes went steely. She put one hand on her hip. “Deadly serious.”

  I was paralyzed. I couldn’t even bring myself to shake my head. The only part of me that moved was my cock. It throbbed to an aching stiffness I’d never experienced.

  Becky’s smile slowly returned. She took a step forward and ran her finger down my chest. “Well?” she asked. “What do you say? Do we have a deal?”

  Her voice was so gravelly, growling almost, that it didn’t seem like Becky at all. It sounded like Satan himself.

  I felt like I was standing on a knife’s edge. On either side of me a boundless chasm stretched open. If I fell one way I would get to experience something some men only ever dreamed of. It would end in fatherhood, but the memories I would have would be mine forever. The other way would…end in the same thing. Eventually, anyways. Except none of my filthy fantasies would come to life.

  Didn’t seem like any sort of decision, really.

  Then, as if to ti
p my balance in her preferred direction, Becky turned around, still eyeing me over her shoulder. She reached down and flipped up the back of her shirt revealing the rolling curves of her ample ass. She bent forward slightly.

  I gasped.

  Her slit was dripping with slick.

  “Want to seal the deal, cowboy?” Becky whispered.

  What is the sound of a man’s resolve snapping? I couldn’t describe it if I tried but it was loud. Grabbing Becky by one hip I staggered forward, whipping my cock out with my other hand. The whole thing was throbbing red, save for the head which was an angry purple. I stretched Becky’s ass cheeks apart.

  Her center lips split open, her damp inside walls an inviting shade of pink.

  Thrusting my hips forward I stabbed my prick into her core, groaning as I drove it up into her dark, tight depths.

  Becky’s mouth fell open. She fell forward and pressed her palms against the table, then lowered herself onto it and closed her eyes as I began to saw in and out of her.

  My face burned red and sweat broke out across my brow as I neared the point of emission. Somewhere in the back of my head questions circled like vultures searching for prey. What was I doing? What had I just agreed to by pressing into her?

  Would she sleep with Quentin for me?

  That last one projected a barrage of dark visions onto my imagination. Becky with her legs spread, accepting her former husband into herself, writhing beneath him as he drove his thick cock into her pussy.

  Becky on her hands and knees, servicing her former mate with her mouth until he ejaculated all over her face.

  And finally, the darkest, most depraved, most profoundly disturbing and erotic image of them all. Becky’s belly swelling with his quickened seed.

  I shouted as my cock went rigid. Spunk flooded through it and burst out the tip, charging into Becky’s channel and filling it so full it began to drip out of her and splatter onto the floor.

  ”Oh god, Jeff, I’m coming!” she screamed, fingernails scratching across the kitchen table.

  At the peak of our climax the deal was sealed. There was no going back. We were headed toward hell in a blinding, blistering heat.