Death By Fucking Ch. 22

Our lives were centered on the skin-to-skin contact of my dick and her pussy. Nothing else mattered. Our intensity increased as our motions became more frenzied, wilder, more animalistic. She loves me to fuck her this way. I can feel it. Sometimes she likes my easy going nature to become subservient to my implacable need. I think it's reassuring to her to know that after twenty plus years I can still be crazed by my desire for only my wives. No one else will do.

She brought her knees up until they were almost touching her tits. I drilled deeper within her and she clawed my back with her approval, with her lust. Suddenly she was screaming her completion. I felt the spasming of her cunt and her passion caused me to explode within her. My pumping semen prolonged her climax as her pussy clenched around my dick. We've fucked maybe five or six thousand times in our lives and the next one will still be like the first. She is so sensual, so submissive, so demanding, so Deirdre. My love for her is so deep that I couldn't live without her.

I just held her for a while, basking in the afterglow, feeling the resurgent shocks passing through my sweet lover's body as it fought to come down from her passionate high. I was still semi-hard so I just stayed inside her. Being inside Deirdre is one of my two favorite places in the world to be.

At first her eyes were closed, her face was in that grimace, that sexual clench she acquires when in the deepest throes of her most intense orgasms. She calls it death by fucking. But I looked again and now she was wearing that beatific smile, the one that makes her look like the most softly contented woman in the world.

She said, "Thank you, Andrew. That was lovely. I'll have to thank Doris Fleming."

I had to laugh. My wife knows me at the molecular level. I said, "That woman is all over me, Dee Dee. My right arm is familiar with every inch of her left tit. She's always finding some reason to rub against me, giving me little pecks on the cheek, stuff like that."

Deirdre asked, "Is she sexy?"

I said, "Does a cat have an ass?"

She looked confused. "Well, I suppose it does."

I said, "There you go."

Jealousy went out the window in our relationship a long, long time ago. I might have experienced some jealous twinges with Donnie at one time in my life, but other than that we just trust each other. Deirdre and I have known from the beginning that we didn't have room in our hearts for anyone else, we are so full of love for each other. This wasn't a jealousy thing. I could feel that mostly Dee Dee was concerned for Doris.

She said, "Perhaps I should talk to her. We don't want the poor girl to have any false hopes. On the other hand, if she just likes to flirt then my philosophy is: whatever stokes your furnace is okay with me. Is it all right if I tell her that?"

I said, "Just make sure she knows you are Deirdre and not Donnie. Donnie is her boss. You are just the beautiful woman that works next door."

She smiled that smile, the one that ignites her eyes, the one that dazzled me from the moment I met her. She said, "Perhaps I should talk to Donnie first. If it's all right with her maybe we can give Doris one of your 'baby-making' sessions, if you know what I mean. The 'Get Andrew Laid' room has been out of commission for an awfully long time."

"Don't even go there, Dee Dee! You're pulling my chain again. We stopped those years ago and they are going to stay stopped. Just tell the woman that if she throws herself naked on my desk I'll just look at her appreciatively for a moment and then go fuck my wife."

She laughed. Dee Dee loves life like no one I've ever known. "Okay, sweetie. I'll defuse the situation for you, bring Doris down as gently as possible. But if she is just flirting, do you mind if she continues? I kind of like being ravished every now and then."

I said, "Are you kidding? She's a great girl. I love her flirting with me. Just as long as she knows that it won't go anywhere. I mean, she's married too, isn't she? Maybe she just likes to work herself up for her husband."

Dee Dee looked at me askance. She said, "Andrew that's one of the things I love about you. You are so innocent."

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

The Year 30

Deirdre's Story

Sixty-five! We are sixty-five years old. We've been with our sweetheart for thirty years. Where'd they go? It seems that what we do today just fades from my mind, but what we did then is fresh and new. We're getting old.

Not Andrew, of course. He still is a young man by any standards. His hair is starting to thin just a bit, and there are a few touches of gray in his sideburns. But he remains tall, dark and handsome.

Our Andrew is just about the most famous man in the world. He is the Progenitor. He is loved, he is hated. No one is indifferent to our Andrew.

He finds it all so amusing, as do I. From his point of view he has done little to deserve this notoriety. He's had sex with a few thousand women who have given birth to thousands of his offspring, who in turn gave birth to tens of thousands of his grandchildren. Is it his fault that every one of them belong to a new species of man? Well, of course it is. That's what we were shooting for from the beginning. But he looks at it more as a lucky coincidence. He refuses to take credit for being the father of a new race.

But New Man University, that was his idea. New Man, Incorporated, that was his idea, too. It is the largest not-for-profit organization in the history of the world. That was Andrew's idea. I believe the man is still fixated on Joanne Woodward. Long ago Paul Newman started making salad dressing and giving the profits to charity. So we have built software. We have out-Microsofted Microsoft. The little program that Eddy and Edie wrote when they were four has become the world's operating system. From the start Andrew insisted that excess profits be given to charity.

At first it was for policemen. We started small. We set up a scholarship fund for the children of all of Georgia's policemen. Any that were accepted to college were eligible at first for free tuition, and then later for a full ride including room and board. As Andrew said, what were we going to do with all of that money? We had our home, our family, our little slice of paradise. Anything more would be obscene.

As the money just poured in, we expanded state by state. So now the children of any policeman in the United States can go to any college they can qualify for and it will cost them nothing.

Of course, Andrew's devious mind had a secondary motivation beyond the philanthropy. He knew that as we grew, as New Man had an ever greater impact on society that eventually things would come to a head, either with the government or the religious zealots or both. When that time came, well at least the police would be on our side. Oh boy, were they! But that's a topic for another time.

As New Man U. has expanded over the years to accommodate more and more students, its footprint on the land has hardly changed at all. Our sons have delved deeper and deeper into leading-edge architecture and energy conservation. So now New Man U. is an underground complex big enough to comfortably hold a small city. And yet the local farmers continue to plow their land, hardly noticing the activity going on barely 20 yards beneath their feet.

I'm afraid that in today's environment of hand-held nuclear devices and first resort terrorism, we've been forced to make New Man U. into a veritable fortress. The witch hunters of the Right consider us to be morally bankrupt, evil, and a danger to them all. Actually they are correct about the third point. Their particular brand of vitriolic hate will never survive in the face of the unrelenting goodness that is New Man.

The environment disasters that have assaulted the world in the last fifty years continue to leave everyone's future in doubt. Much of the research at the college has been related to alternative energy sources, efficient food growth, anything that can reduce the demands that we must make on the ever dwindling resources of the earth.

And we are doing everything we can to help Europe and Africa: Europe caught in the throws of a new Ice Age, Africa experiencing the unending drought. Andrew says that we are due for a Malthusian reckoning. He just loves to throw around the word 'Malthusian'. But I hope he's wrong.

I'm afraid that our sexual lives have slowed a bit over recent years. Andrew remains Andrew, always ready and eager. He still finds us irresistible. But Donnie and I have been forced to slow down. Goodness, we are sixty-five years old! We've decided the best way to go is to alternate. Donnie will have her turn, there will be a day of rest. I'll have my turn followed by another day of rest. It's certainly less spontaneous, but it is still wonderful. Now each of us only does it about twice a week. Which means Andrew is getting laid four times a week. That's not bad for a fifty-five year old man, is it? From what I understand, that's not bad for a twenty-five year old man.

Many years ago Emma joined our souls together. We call it interactive love. So even if only one of us is joined with Andrew at a time, the other still shares the emotional attachment. So our sexual and romantic lives remain full. It's just that we are no longer at full throttle as we once were.

And we don't have as many of what Andrew refers to as 'monkey fucks'. The world thinks of him as such a suave and sophisticated man, but Donnie and I know the truth. Sometimes I think he is still a teenager. But no, he doesn't ravish us like he used to. It's to protect us. He's a sweet and sensitive lover. He fears hurting us. We're small boned, and osteoporosis is a real concern.

Goodness me, our memories are fading, our bodies are falling apart, and still we're getting laid twice a week. If that doesn't keep us young, nothing will.

For those of you who have been following Death by Fucking from the beginning, you may have wondered what Deirdre and Donnie Adkins look like. A helpful reader has gotten hold of a picture of them as they were in their twenty's. I'd be glad to email a copy of it to anyone who may be interested. All you need do is ask.