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Amanda was making dinner. She had a nice juicy bird in the oven, but still needed a bit more time. It was her mother’s recipe. She didn’t quite make it as good as her, but her husband loved it. She closed the oven and chopped some carrots into the minestrone. Also her mother’s recipe but Amanda made it better. She ambled over to the counter and added a few bushes of broccoli to the salad. She was on her way back to the oven to check on the baby potatoes when the sound of a power drill came up from the basement. It was loud and jarring like it was scrapping on metal. She turned back to the food. The baby potatoes looked good, just needed a dash of salt. She wanted the dinner to be perfect. It was her husband’s birthday and the day coincided right in the middle of her ovulation period.
They had been trying for a baby for a year. It would happen, she knew, but it was getting frustrating. They were both young and healthy. Ray was twenty-eight, not a gym rat, but he took care of himself, watched what he ate, and his cock worked fine. His semen count and motility were outstanding.
Amanda was in similar good health. She was twenty-five and a magnificent invitation to have babies. Her skin was soft, her legs were long, her breasts were perky, her stomach was flat, and her ass was round and shapely. Her pretty face was defined by sharp cheekbones, exotic dark eyes, and full pouty lips. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders and down her back, sometimes she tied it in a ponytail, especially at school or work.
She was a part-time nursing student. She went to classes four nights a week and worked as a hostess at her father’s diner on weekends. She met her husband Ray at the diner. He was a gorgeous law-student at the time. They smiled shyly at each other for weeks until he finally asked her out. They had been together ever since.
Amanda checked on the bird again. It was glowing and smelled orgasmic. She turned off the oven and let it sit. The power drill started making a racket again in the basement. A loud ear-piercing shrilling. The washing machine stopped working late last night, just as she finally got around to doing the laundry. It had been piling up, but between classes and work she had no time. She called Charlie first thing in the morning to see if could fix it. She wanted to do a load before dinner. All she had to wear was the clothes on her back; a short black skirt and a white, see-through blouse. Her long, tanned legs came out of that skirt showing off her meaty thighs, and her large breasts shaped the top of her blouse. It was the kind of outfit she used to wear clubbing. She looked hot, but she wanted to look like a wifey tonight.
A smell wafted up from the basement stairs. It overwhelmed all the food she was cooking. It was a skunky, earthly smell. Amanda sighed. Charlie liked to smoke weed whenever he “worked on shit.” She didn’t like him getting high in her house but he was a good handyman and a relative of her husband. A second or third cousin. Ray didn’t exactly know how he and Charlie were related but Charlie had always been around Ray’s family. There were a lot of pictures with Ray’s grandmother holding baby Charlie. Pictures of Charlie and Ray’s father as young men on fishing boats and on motorcycles. And pictures of Ray and Charlie. Her favorite was of an eighteen-year-old Ray sitting at the back of a pick-up truck with a then forty-five-year-old Charlie. Ray looked so handsome with his chiseled jawline and muscular shoulders. Even then in his forties, Charlie looked like how he did now in his early sixties; tall and lean with a thick mane of gray hair like an aging hippy. He always wore denims, t-shirts, boots and caps.
Amanda wiped her hands on a small towel. She climbed the stairs down to the basement and found the old hippy sitting on the floor with his back to the washing machine and his legs spread out in front of him. His thick gray hair under a Beetles cap with a ponytail coming out the back. A joint dangling between his greasy lips. He glanced briefly at her chest. Her black bra was visible under the see-through blouse. She had forgotten to put on apron, but to his credit, the older man’s gaze didn’t linger.
“Its finished,” he said from the floor.
“Great,” she smiled. “Thank you. I needed to do a load.”
“I meant it can’t be fixed. It’s finished.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s too old. Needs a part.”
“What part? Maybe we can order it.”
“I don’t know watcha call it, but they don’t make ’em anymore. The thing looks older than me.”
Amanda thought about calling someone else to look at it but Charlie was always right about these things. Besides, the washing machine was ancient. She could definitely use a new one, but between nursing school, the mortgage, and Ray’s student loans, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
“Fuck,” she cursed.
“It will work out.”
“I hope so.”
He smiled and offered her a toke of his joint. It was escort gaziantep evi olan bayan tempting. She had not gotten high since her honeymoon a year earlier. Ray and Amanda accidentally packed a dime bag in their luggage before going to the airport. They had a good laugh about it when they found the bag at home and told themselves they would smoke it on a weekend, but they never got to it. It was still upstairs in a drawer somewhere.
Charlie kept staring at her eyes, extending his arm with the joint between his fingers. The joint looked about half-finished. It smelled strong and the paper it was rolled in was white and burnt. She wanted to smoke with him. She was stressed out. Exams were coming up in a few weeks and she was not ready, Ray was working long hours and they rarely saw each other, the diner wasn’t doing well and she might have to cut back her hours, her car was leaking oil and air-conditioning fluid, and now the washing machine was broken.
It was too much.
She sat next to him on the floor, tugging down the hem of her short skit. Amanda took the joint and placed it between her full, pouty lips. She sucked. The tip of the joint blazed. As she inhaled the natural chemicals into her lungs, her eyes closed. Weed was magic, she felt. It made some people smile, some people chatty, some people sleepy, some people laugh and some people say things and do things they’d never do. She coughed the smoke out and leaned back on the washing machine, feeling dizzy, but in a good way, like she was floating.
She passed the joint back to Charlie on her left. He took a big hit, holding the smoke in his lungs for thirty seconds or more before blowing it out his nose peacefully. He passed it back to her. She repeated the process; put it to her mouth, sucked, held the smoke in her lungs, and coughed it out. As she handed the joint back, she heard salsa music.
“Where is that coming from?” she asked Charlie.
“What?”
“The music.”
“What music?”
She bopped her feet. It was the same song that was playing the second night of her honeymoon in Puerto Rico. There was a club built into the hotel. It was always packed and loud. One night Ray spun her around a sea of gyrating people. She felt hands groping her ass almost every time. A German squeezed her butt cheeks so hard his finger slipped between the crack. Ray almost got into a fist fight with the German but security came and kicked him out.
After the club closed, they bought weed from a waiter and stumbled out of the hotel to the beach. They sat on the sand, under the moonlight, listening the waves crashing, getting high and making love. She was thinking about how warm the Puerto Rican sand was, even at night, when next thing she knew Charlie’s pants were on the floor around his ankles.
“Oh, Charlie, don’t stop,” she cried, trying to make sense of what was happening, but at the same time thoroughly enjoying it.
She was on top of the washing machine, leaning back and propped up on her elbows, with her long legs splayed open as the older man pounded her tight young pussy. The broken washing machine rocked from side-to-side like it was in middle of a large cycle.
“You’re so big!” she moaned.
Her shorts were hiked up to her waist like a belt, her blouse was open down the middle, exposing her flat stomach and a pair of melon-sized tits spilling out of the black bra. They were bouncing, jiggling, and clapping against each other as Charlie humped her brains out.
“Right there, Charlie, right there, right there, right there, just like that, keep going, just like that, you’re fucking me so good!”
The older man was working hard, but his face seemed bored. He wasn’t moaning or grunting. He looked at her with half-closed eyes. The joint lazily dangling between his lips. The smoke wafted up to the ceiling and got sucked into the vent.
“You’re gonna make me cum, aren’t you, you dirty old fucker? big fucking cock, fucking my pussy, yes, fuck that pussy, fuck it!”
Charlie took the joint out of his mouth and placed it between her lips, like he wanted her to shut up. She managed to stop moaning long enough to take a hit. The tip of the joint blazed. She enjoyed the earthy taste on her mouth as the warm, gooey juices flowed out of her pussy, flooding Charlie’s inserted cock.
“Charlieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” she squealed, cumming.
Then she was floating again. She felt weightless. Delirious with pleasure. Her skin tingling all over. She could hear her heart beat in her ear drums, thumping loudly. She laid back on top of the machine with Charlie’s cock still jammed inside her. Her mind reeled, everything coming back. She saw herself sitting on the floor and smoking the joint with Charlie. As she had been remembering fucking Ray on that beach, she got horny. Real horny. She had been horny for weeks.
In order to increase escort gaziantep fetiş bayan her fertility, her doctor recommended she do the usual things; eating certain foods, taking vitamins, tracking her cycles, her body temperature, her sleep patterns, and abstaining from strenuous work-outs and only having sex during her fertility window. The last two were killer.
She loved working out, leaving the gym exhausted, wet with sweat all over, then going home to an ice bath. Sex was similar. She gave it all she had in the bedroom. She loved getting fucked and she hated playing alone, masturbation always bored her. Dildos were okay as accessories not replacements for the real thing. And she needed to feel a real dick inside her to orgasm. A warm, throbbing, dick. But because she and Ray couldn’t have sex, and because she couldn’t work out, she had a lot of frustration pent up inside her. That’s how she found herself leaning over and kissing Charlie. Charlie pushed her away, but then relented and kissed her back. She saw Charlie picking her up from the floor and gently sitting her on top of the washing machine, hiking her skirt up around her waist and opening her blouse, yanking off her panties, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants fall. She remembered all that as Charlie slowly pulled his cock out of her sopping wet pussy.
“Oooooooh,” she cooed, watching the inches coming out from between her legs. Her labias clung around it with a tight grip. When his full cock was out, she saw how painfully big it was and how thick and veiny the shaft was compared to her husband’s smooth, pink cock. Charlie rubbed the shaft between her labias.
“mmmmmmm, Charlie,” she smiled. “You got another go in you?”
Charlie smiled back and flicked the remains of the joint behind him. Amanda bit her lip. She wanted him to stick it again. He rubbed the top of her vulva with this thumb, stimulating her clitoris. Amanda’s thighs quivered.
“Put it in,” she begged.
“Let’s go upstairs, the bed.”
“What time is it?”
“After five.”
Her eyes widened. “Ray might be home soon. Oh poor Ray. I can’t believe I did this to him.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, gently rubbing her pussy. “He won’t know.”
“This is so fucked up.”
He nodded in agreement. Then lifted her ankles on top of his shoulders.
“No, stop, he could already be home.”
Charlie reached his hand underneath her rock-hard ass and scooted her pussy closer to the edge of the washing machine. She laid on her back on top of the metal, looking up at the basement ceiling.
“We would have heard the car,” he said. “That transmission on that thing makes a racket.”
She felt his hard cock slap on top of her pubic mound. It made a sound like when a butcher slabs of a pound of meat on top of a chopping table.
“That’s true,” she nodded, thinking. If it was five o’clock, he wouldn’t be home for an hour, but sometimes he came home early.
Charlie kissed her ankles on top his shoulders.
“And we would have heard the door, right? I mean, we would have heard him come in, we weren’t been that louAH!”
Charlie penetrated her.
She moaned, enjoying the shape of his big cock pushing inside her to the back of her pussy. The way it stretched her vaginal walls made her cum again. He pulled it out and drove it back in, deeper, harder. The machine shook. Her big boobs bounced and clapped together.
“You’re so fucking wet,” Charlie said.
He leaned forward with his cock injected and her ankles on top his shoulders, pushing her knees to her chest. Amanda gasped. She felt a nice soothing stretch at the back of her thighs. The type she got during yoga class. Her feet and ankles were above and over her head, out of her line of sight. Charlie pushed her knees even closer to her chest. Her butt lifted a little off the washing machine.
Charlie started pumping. The strokes were deep. Amanda was moaning and twisting and trashing on top of the machine. Charlie said something that might have been a curse but she couldn’t quite hear him. Her ears were thumping again with the sound of her heart. It was racing. At least 160 bpm. Beads of sweat rolled down her brow and stung her eyes. She paid good money to get this type of work-out.
“Oh, Charlie, you’re hitting me so deep, so fucking deep, that big dick feels so good in my tight little pussy, you like my pussy, daddy? You like how wet I am for you? Oooooooooooooh, keep doing that, right there, OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! YES! YES! YES! FUCK THAT PUSSY!”
Charlie’s cock slipped out of her.
“PUT IT IN! PUT IT IN!”
The older man stepped back from the washing machine with his big flopping cock jutting out in front of him. He took her hand and pulled her off the machine. When her feet touched the floor, her legs shook. Charlie held her up by the waist, then turned her around and bent her over the machine. bayan escort gaziantep Her breasts pressed against the smooth metal. Charlie lifted her ass little higher, spread her legs a little wider with her feet flat on the floor. She felt his swollen cockhead rubbing her wet pussy. Her labias were dripping onto the basement floor, little drops splashing around her feet. He gave her ass a hard spank on the left cheek. She yelped and he gave her another on the right butt cheek then stuck his cock back into her pussy.
“OH, DADDY!”
Her hands gripped the sides of the washing machine like she was giving it a hug. His hands ran to her hips and then thrusted, his crotch slamming into her ass, over and over again. She started crying like a whore, like someone was hurting her, like she wanted him to stop but she kept screaming at him “DON’T STOP! DON’T STOP!”
The machine rumbled back and forth.
Charlie gave her a brutal spank. She screamed. He gave her another on the other butt cheek. Her pussy went into contractions. She was going to cum again. The older man kept pumping. His balls were bursting to explode but he was holding back. He was always good at holding back. He had defiled a lot of women in his days and Amanda was his latest conquest, maybe his last. He didn’t know what tomorrow might bring. He was open to any possibility. It was how he lived his life. Amanda started pushing back against his thrusts. She wanted more power. Charlie gripped her left meaty thigh and lifted her leg up on top of the machine while her right foot stayed flat on the floor. His cock drove into her in a new angle, deeper.
“CHARLIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” she squealed and stopped moving in front of him, just laid there bent over it and took it. Her soft pink walls were moist and warm. Cum dripped out her cunt and down her thighs. Every thrust produced a wet squishy sound like soapy water wrung out of a sponge. Charlie was running out of breathe. He was close. He couldn’t hold it any longer. He started to pull out, yanking his hips back, but he didn’t do it fast enough.
Amanda gasped. He was about halfway-inside her, in the middle of pulling out, when she felt his cock twitch. It was more like a wriggle. It lasted less than a second, then something warm and gooey splashed her pink walls. Amanda cooed, a satisfied smile on her face, her toes curling, loving the way their love juices mixed together. With a manly grunt, Charlie pumped his hips, sliding his cock balls deep and voluntarily dumped a second load at the back of her pussy, near cervix. “DADDY, FUCK!” she cried, her legs shuddering as he filled her up. Amanda used the last bit of energy she had and clenched her pussy. Charlie groaned. His fingers dug into her hips as a third rope of cum shot out. Amanda’s face twisted with pleasure as she squeezed the milk out of him.
—
TWO YEARS LATER
It was Amanda’s day off. After her husband left for work, she rode her bicycle to the park. It was a twenty inch 6 speed with mag wheels. All yellow like a sunflower, even the wheels. She loved it. Her husband bought it for her after she graduated from nursing school. She could ride it for hours and its great exercise. These days she had work a little harder to keep her figure than she used to. She fondly remembered when she could fit into a size 6. These days she was more of a size 10. She could squeeze into an 8, too, but it wasn’t very comfortable.
She circled the park five times, pumping hard up a steep hill that makes her squeal before she reached the top. She rolled to the bottom and stopped to rest on the grass.
It was a warm sunny day. The sky was a perfect blue with a cool breeze. Despite the good weather, she didn’t see many people out and about. A few neighborhood moms pushing strollers, a couple of dog walkers, two or three joggers. One of the joggers looked at her approvingly. She was wearing black biking sweats and a white tee over a pink sports bra that did its best squish down her big breasts. Her exposed stomach wasn’t flat anymore, but it wasn’t chubby either. It had a lip of belly and small love handles. Try as she could, she couldn’t lose the extra weight after the pregnancy.
After she got her second wind, she picked herself up off the grass and hopped back on the yellow sunflower. She rode back home, nice and sweaty all over, her hair swinging back in a ponytail. As she reached her driveway fast, Charlie’s red pick-up truck pulled in behind her. He had ZZ Top’s Rough Boy blasting. He turned off the engine and climbed out.
“How you doing, kid,” he said.
“All good, old boy,” she answered. “How have you been? How’s Carol?”
He shrugged. “We broke it off. You know how it is.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a new girl.”
“Don’t doubt it. Anyway, I saw you riding your bike and wanted to say hi.”
“Well, hi.”
They grinned at each other.
“Can I come in?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, old boy.”
“I just…wanna see her.”
“Ah.”
“I got her something for her birthday.”
He pulled out a little pink cap.
“That’s cute, but my mom has Abby for the morning. Ray’s gonna pick her up later. Maybe you can come back then.”
Charlie nodded and handed her the cap. “Yeah, maybe.”
He turned back to the truck and opened the door.
“Charlie…” she called out.
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