Dirty Becky Page 3

  Chapter Four

  “Will you sleep with Quentin?” I blurted it while I was still inside her and before I even had time to think of what I was saying. My hand shot up to cover my mouth, my cheeks heating in embarrassment.

  The post-coital smile faded from Becky’s lips. She focused on some point far ahead and went into what seemed like a trance. And, to my delight, her pussy flexed around my muscle.

  My cock hardened again as I imagined what she was thinking. Was she recounting a coupling with her ex-husband nice guy jock who cared for lost puppies? Was she reminiscing about his cock and how it felt inside her?

  Shame twisted through me. Removing myself from her I staggered back. My eyes fell to her messy snatch. A rivulet of my deposit ran out and dribbled down her thigh.

  Becky coughed. Reaching behind herself, she pulled her shirt down over her ass and pushed herself up to standing. She turned and for the longest time wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  When she looked at me again, her shoulders sagged a bit. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I should have thought of that. I can’t do that. That’s the one thing I just can’t do. Not for you and not for anyone.” She shook her head.

  And while I understood how weird that might be for her, her refusal only cemented my need to see it. To watch it happen, to make it real, seemed the only way to exorcise that particular demon from myself. “But…but you said anything,” I whispered.

  Becky lowered her eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry. I know I did. But I can’t.”

  Something akin to a rage boiled through me. But not at Becky. It took a few moments to identify the source of my anger. It dawned on me slowly and brought a strange calm with it.

  I wasn’t mad at Becky’s refusal to entertain my request. But I needed desperately to know why she wouldn’t do it. At the same time I understood that forcing the issue would get me nowhere. It certainly wouldn’t get me what I wanted.

  So I did something I’m still not very proud of. I agreed to her suggestion along with the caveat that Quentin would be off-limits. But inside my mind I knew that the next thirty days would be spent bending her in that direction. Coaxing her as best I could to entertain the possibility of sleeping with her former lover and letting me watch as she did. “Fine,” I said softly.

  Becky looked up at me, surprised by my reaction. “Fine?” she asked.

  “Fine,” I repeated.

  Her smile returned. Lewd and lovely and tickling me between the legs again.

  Becky’s erotic agreement had significantly shortened my refractory period. My cock bounced to life again.

  Becky seemed to approve. She glanced at it with one eye raised.

  “I’m yours Jeff,” she whispered. “I’ll do anything.” The twinkle had returned to her eyes. She seemed to be as excited by the possibilities her little arrangement presented as I was. “But when it’s over, you give me what I need.” Pressing her hand between my legs again, she squeezed my now rock-hard erection.

  I stared deeply into her eyes, then leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.

  Her mouth opened to let my tongue in. She pressed back against it with her own, sucking on my mouth and reaching around to put her hands on my back and bring me closer to herself. This pressed my cock against her abdomen. It flexed at the pleasant pressure.

  It was as searingly hot kiss as we’d ever shared. When I finally pulled away and opened my eyes I found Becky smiling, biting on one corner of her lower lip, her hand stroking my erection. “Thirty days of debauchery,” I whispered.

  “Anything you want,” she said so softly I could barely hear her.

  Well, almost anything. Not if I had anything to do with it. My cock throbbed as my imagination began to run wild again.

  “You want another little something before breakfast?” Becky whispered.

  I didn’t understand at first, then realized she was already being lewd. I nodded.

  “What’ll you have then?”

  I shuddered. She was mine. Our agreement was now in force and I could take her any way I wanted. A fierce lust twisted through me, followed by an overwhelming love for the woman I’d taken as my wife. How many men could call themselves this lucky? “I want…I want you to put me in your mouth.”

  Becky bit her lip again. She sank to her knees peeling my underwear down my legs as she went. My cock sprang out red and hungry for her face. “Of course, sweetie,” Becky whispered, “but you can’t say it so politely. If I’m going to be your little slut you have to treat me like one. You have to talk to me like one. Tell me to suck your dick, Jeff. Say it like you mean it.”

  I sucked in a breath at her dirty description. My cock bounced in anticipation. “Suck my dick,” I groaned.

  Becky’s mouth opened and her tongue fell out. She dipped her face between my legs and gently sucked a nut into her lips. Rolling her tongue around it, she let it fall out, then swept it up the underside of my shaft and flicked it after licking the pre-cum off the tip of my head. “Say it like you mean it,” she purred.

  Lust ripped through me like a chainsaw. “Suck my fucking dick, slut,” I ordered.

  Becky’s eyes closed and her mouth curled into a pre-orgasmic expression. She grabbed the root of my cock and plunged the head into her mouth.

  I shuddered at the hot wet velvet insides of her cheeks. My toes curled in my slippers as she looked up with big, wide eyes, head bobbing back and forth on my prick. “Take it deeper,” I commanded.

  Becky complied instantly. She shuffled forward and stuffed more of my cock into her mouth, until I felt the tip kiss the tight muscles at the back of her throat. A soft gack, the sound of her gag reflex, greeted my entrance. She looked up and stared at me as if asking if this was deep enough.

  “Deeper,” I growled.

  Becky closed her eyes. Relaxing the muscles in her throat, she worked her mouth over the rest of my cock until the tip of her nose touched my abdomen.

  It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. “Good,” I said, petting the top of her head. “Now take your tits out.”

  Putting both hands on my thighs, she eased herself off of me. Spit and bile and pre-cum drooled out the corner of her lips, clinging to her chin and the tip of my dick. Her hands shot down to her shirt and she yanked it up over her head. Her nipples were as stiff as they had been the night before.

  “Now taste yourself,” I said, sinking into this indulgence fully.

  Becky obeyed blindly. She pressed a finger against her leaking slit, rubbed it three times back and forth, then brought it up to her mouth and sucked her own wet off like it was the most delicious popsicle.

  I was pretty worked up already. I could feel my vas charging with seed. My cock was bouncing just staring at her full tits and shapely hips. “Pick up your tits,” I whispered.

  She did. Cupping them with her hands she bounced them up and down like a porn star.

  Taking myself in hand I started stroking my hard muscle. Each jerk sent a fresh finger of pleasure shooting up my spine, tickling the base of my brain. “Oh fuck,” I grunted, feeling the edge of ecstasy creeping closer. “I want to come on your tits.”

  “Do it!” Becky whispered. “Come all over my big tits!” She opened her mouth again and curled her soft tongue down over her lower lip.

  The dirty pose tipped me over the edge. A hot shot of ejaculate flooded through cock and shot out the tip, splattering across Becky’s exposed chest. I grimaced and writhed through the orgasm as another blast came barrelling out of me. It fell lower, coating her nipples with a wet splat.

  Becky didn’t budge from her position. She waited until I’d emptied my load all over her breasts and even then stayed put.

  A dirty need gripped me. Lifting my softening erection, I slapped the head of it against her forehead, then dragged it over her nose and finally her mouth. A thin line of semen trickled out, trailing down her face and making the whole thing that much more filthy. I groaned and shook as the last shudders of pleasure left me.


  Becky started to giggle. She looked down at the glaze coating her chest, then back up at me. A slow smile stretched across her lips. “I guess,” she said, pressing her tits together one last time, “we have a deal.”

  Chapter Five

  Becky didn’t put her shirt back on after that. After towelling off the crusting cum on her breasts, she went back to stirring the batter in the bowl. She didn’t clean off her face, letting the semen dry there for some dirty reason.

  I was hard again in under ten minutes. By that time the pancakes were done and served on plates with blueberries, whip cream and maple syrup.

  Becky sat across from me at the kitchen table giving me a gorgeous view of her breasts as we ate. It was as dirty as the breakfast was delicious.

  A very faint worry began to gnaw at me. One that, by the time we’d finished eating, I couldn’t ignore. This was a side of Becky I’d never dreamed was there. Had it always been? Was she really a closet slut looking for any excuse to get laid? The worry must have shown on my expression.

  After Becky had cleared away the plates, she returned to the table with a pot of coffee, refilled my cup, then set it on the counter and sat down on my lap. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  I felt quite exposed in that moment. I was naked, for one thing. And now Becky was about to start picking away at me, asking me about what I was feeling and whether I was upset. “Nothing, why?”

  “You look mopey,” she said, brushing her finger against my cheek.

  I shrugged, trying to dismiss her concern. “I’m fine.”

  “For a guy whose wife just told him he could use her any way he wanted for the next month, then served him pancakes, you don’t seem fucking fine.”

  The question of Quentin was gnawing away at me. I wanted to blurt it out, to know immediately why she would be opposed to fucking him for me. I wanted to hear all the filthy details of their life together. But I knew I had to bide my time. Distract her while I formulated a plan. I decided to take a sideways approach.

  “Did you ever do this before?” I ventured, coming to the edge of my comfort zone even asking the question.

  “Make pancakes?” Becky teased.

  “You know what I mean. Like, with him. Did you do this with Quentin? Did he share you?”

  Becky leaned over me and rubbed the tip of my nose with hers. “No, silly. Quentin was all I needed when I was with him.” Her expression changed instantly. “Not that…I didn’t mean it like that. You’re all I need.” Worry furrowed her brow.

  Maybe if I’d been in a different state, had less of a singular purpose, to see Becky with Quentin, I might have taken offence. But I was already scheming and had barely noticed the statement could be taken the wrong way.

  “But you didn’t?” I asked again.

  “I didn’t,” she assured, still looking a little concerned by what she’d said.

  “You don’t have to fuck him,” I announced.

  Relief spread on her face. She tilted her head and kissed me on the cheek. “Thank-you for letting that go.”

  “But I want to hear more about him.”

  Becky gave me a funny look and shook her head. “You’re just obsessed with this, aren’t you? It’s like an actual fucking obsession, thinking of me and Quentin?”

  I thought about that for a while. “I guess you could call it that,” I replied.

  “Why?” she asked. “It’s in the past. I didn’t know you then. If I knew you were out there I would have waited for you.”

  As she spoke I tried to pin down my feelings. Tried to put a finger on exactly what about her being with Quentin had me so worked up. There was jealousy to it but that wasn’t the eye of the hurricane. The storm raging inside me was caused by the idea of Becky being pleasured by another man. Something about that was insanely erotic. The fact that it was locked in the past, that it could not be undone infused the eroticism with a panicked energy. “Did he have a big dick?”

  Becky rolled her eyes then threw her head back and laughed. “Men!” she exclaimed. “What is it with you and size?”

  It was a good question, really. One I hadn’t spent all that much time contemplating. Possibly because none of the other women I’d known had dated, er, married, large black athletes. There was something primal to it, certainly. Wouldn’t a bigger cock feel better?

  “You really want to know?” she said, interrupting my train of thought.

  “I do,” I said, nodding after stealing a glance at her breasts again.

  “It was big.”

  “How big?” I couldn’t help myself. It was like I didn’t have a choice about this, either. Just had to try and find the source of my pleasant discomfort. This, something told me, would lead me there.

  Becky raised her arm. She pressed a finger against her wrist, then drew a line down to her elbow, eyeing my reaction.

  I sucked in a breath. Holy shit. That big? “Did it…did it hurt?”

  Becky laughed again.

  This brought a fresh wave of discomfort. I knew she wasn’t laughing at me, really. She was laughing at the situation. But it inspired the same feeling as when girls used to laugh at me back in high school, or college. Not humiliation, exactly, just…a strange pressure inside me. “Did it fit? Inside you, I mean?” I asked, unable to resist delving deeper into her secrets.

  “I can’t remember,” Becky said, sighing.

  Bullshit. Best not to call her on it yet, though. I didn’t want her upset. I wanted her pliant. “But you liked it? You liked having sex with him?” I pressed.

  Becky narrowed her eyes and stared at me for a long time. “You’re so weird I love it,” she said, pecking my cheek again. “What should we do today?”

  Most Saturdays we spent cleaning the house. Sometimes we’d go for a boozy lunch and have lazy sex in the afternoon, then fall asleep. This Saturday was different. On this Saturday Becky belonged to me in a way she never had before. She was mine to play with. “I want to have sex again,” I admitted.

  This brought fresh laughter from Becky. “Of course you do,” she said. “Are we even going to leave the house for the next month?” she said, still chuckling.

  I began to flip through all the dirty fantasies I’d ever had, trying to pick the perfect one to bring to life when the doorbell rang.

  Chapter Five

  Becky’s eyes shot wide open and she jumped off my lap. “Oh shit!” she said, bounding through to the hall toward the stairs.

  “What?” I said, leaping up and running after her. “Do you know who it is?”

  “It’s the fucking pool boy!” she called out, already upstairs. “Remember? He couldn’t make it last week and said he’d come today. I totally forgot!” She burst into a fit of giggles as she disappeared into the bedroom.

  I took the steps two at a time. But when I burst into the bedroom I wasn’t greeted by the sight I expected. I thought I’d find Becky climbing into a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt to greet the pool boy. Instead, she was putting on a negligee, tying the stringy belt at her waist and leaving a good bit of her tits exposed. Nearly to the nipples.

  My breath caught in my throat. “What are you doing?” I hissed.

  Half a smile curled on her lip. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to answer the door.” And before I could stop her she had whisked past me and down the stairs.

  My vision tunnelled. My ears started ringing. What in the fuck was happening? Was she really going to answer the door like that? Was she really going to expose herself to another man in that way? I held my breath as the door swung open.

  “Hi Josh!” Becky sang.

  Silence. Then…

  “Uh…hey Mrs. Adams.” Josh’s shock at what he was seeing was obvious by the way his voice gurgled in his throat as he spoke.

  My chest tightened. This wasn’t happening. This was happening. Becky was down there in nothing but her nightie and Josh was probably doing his damn best not to stare at her big tits!

  “Come in, come in!” she said. />
  I imagined the way she was stepping aside and waving him in. As if this was the outfit she always wore when he came over. As if he wasn’t sneaking glances at her beautiful curves. My cock roared to life for the third time in the hour since I’d woken up.

  “You want a drink?” Becky asked, as calm and casual as I’d ever heard her.

  “Um, no thanks,” Josh muttered.

  Gliding along the carpet I pressed my back against the wall and leaned ever so slightly to one side. Just enough to make out Josh and Becky’s bodies in the hallway and one corner of her smiling face.

  Josh was a twenty-two year old surfer who took care of our pool every other week. He was muscled and tan and even from the top of the stairs I could see he was sporting his own erection that very moment.

  My reaction to this was confusing at first. Seeing another man’s cock engorge at the sight of my almost-naked Becky was far different than just imagining the fantasy in my mind. This was live flesh and bone standing there, regarding her, craving her and probably trying to calculate the odds his growing pecker would get wet before he left.

  “You sure I can’t get you anything?”

  I shuddered at the way Becky’s voice had lowered to a seductive purr.

  Josh swallowed so loudly I heard it all the way upstairs. “Should I…er, do you want me to get started on the pool?” he asked.

  Becky smiled a little wider. “Sure thing, Joshy,” she replied. “Go ahead and let yourself out the back door. I’ve got to take a shower.”

  An electric tension crackled between them as neither moved for a few moments. Then Becky spun around and started walking up the stairs.

  Josh stood frozen in place. As he turned to watch her mount the stairs, gorging himself on the sight of her swaying, bountiful rump, I was forced to retreat my position in case he saw me. A moment before he disappeared from view I saw his hand move to his crotch to adjust the uncomfortable bulge to one side. “Mr. Adams home?”