A Lifeguard's Tale

"God, this is going to be good, isn't it Jack? I can just tell. You know I really like you. I always have. I've dreamt about this."

As she spoke she was opening my shirt and kissing my chest, kissing it and licking it, even licking my nipples and playing with them. Her hand dropped down to my crotch and she ran her nails over the bulge of my hard cock, then tried to squeeze me through my pants.

"You must think I'm horrible, don't you?" she asked me. "Like I do this with everyone."

"No! Of course not. Don't be silly!" I was afraid she might be drunk enough to get into some sort of self-indulgent guilt trip and ruin the whole thing.

"Well you don't know what it's like," she whispered. "Living with that asshole for all this time and then finding he's fucking some other bitch right under my nose. You just don't know what that's like!"

"Yeah. That's terrible. That's just terrible..."

"But you like me too, don't you, Jack? You want me. When you see me at the pool, you like what you see, right? The other guards too. I know. I've seen them. I've still got it, and I want to show you. I want to show you what he's missing."

She took my wrist and led me through the dining room and into the living room, where there was a matching white French provincial set, the sofa covered with a clear plastic slipcover, as was the custom back then--horrible things that stuck to naked skin like flypaper. The only light was from the big console TV, showing some cop show with the volume down low. To one side were the carpeted stairs that led up to the bedrooms on the second floor, where the kids were sleeping. Shelly guided me to the sofa and flopped down next to me, rolled halfway on top of me and started kissing me again, hotly, desperately, passionately.

She had my shirt unbuttoned all the way by this time and she pulled it from my pants so she could spread it wide and kiss my bare chest. I was half thinking of Matt and Michelle sleeping upstairs but I was burning with lust too, and shocked by this sudden onset of female passion. She was giving me no let-up, going at me like a woman possessed.

Then she was on her knees on the sofa kissing me and unbuckling my pants and opening the zipper and I was fast losing it, disintegrating under her touch. I had it in my mind that I should take the initiative, that I was the man here and I should be setting the pace and taking control, but she was mad for me, and so good and so expert at what she did, so consumed by raw lust, that all I managed to do was kick my shoes off before she had my pants and shorts down and her soft, cool hand wrapped around my hard cock while she leaning over me kissing me hot and deep.

I was determined to take charge this time, or at least to avoid being as passive as I'd been in the filter room, so I pulled her hand off me and rolled her over onto her back. She might know how to drive me crazy, but I knew some things about her too now, and I pulled her robe open and confronted her big tits straining against what looked like a little girl's undershirt, a little two-strapper with a tiny bow between her breasts. I was still holding her wrist from when I'd pulled her off me, and now I lowered my face to her tits and started tonguing and sucking her nipples right through her tee shirt.

"Oh yes! Oh yes!" she moaned in a harsh whisper. She went limp, raising her head to watch me suck her tits while on the TV, cop-show gunshots rang out. "I love when you suck them through a shirt, through a blouse. It just feels so dirty, like you can't keep your mouth off me!"

I'd never heard a woman talk like this, never dreamed they were capable of it, but Mrs. Greenberg was nothing like the girls I'd known before. She'd been jilted, rejected, and was reaching the end of the summer of her youth, and she was determined to savor and be savored, to give and take as much pleasure as she could.

I pulled her robe open and slid my hand up between her legs where I encountered a pair of tiny white cotton panties, already damp. I don't think she was used to being touched there, or else she was just exquisitely sensitive, because she slammed her legs closed on my hand, and grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me away. But I was stubborn and determined to give her some pleasure, and I reached farther between her legs where I could caress the humid flesh of her pussy, and she groaned and gave in, throwing her legs open and sliding down the sofa to press herself harder against my hand.

I didn't know anything about women back then and how their bodies worked. No one did, not even women themselves. It was a time when nice girls never touched themselves down there or explored and certainly didn't allow themselves to be touched. Fellatio was something only whores did, while cunnilingus was beyond perverse and bordered on pathological. All this was to change within a few years, but back then, that's how it was. I, at least, knew something about the clitoris and had some idea of where it was and what it did (thank you, Hugh Hefner!), and more than that, I was a sensitive lover and paid attention to what my partner liked and what she didn't. So I was able to find Shelly's clit, or at least get close enough to it so that when I caressed it through her panties, the results were electric.

Shelly lost it, just lost control of herself, and her thighs reflexively closed on my hand and then opened, closed, then opened again as the shame of being touched there fought with these feelings of intense, consuming pleasure. Her mouth was open but she didn't make a sound--her breath had caught in her throat--but I could tell from the way her belly spasmed and her thighs shook that I was doing something right, so I kept doing it.

It seemed like we were having some sort of fight here, some struggle to see who could pleasure whom the most, and she was determined to win, and just at the point where she seemed most vulnerable and exposed, she grabbed my hand and pushed it away from her.

"No, no!" she gasped. "No. Wait..."

She rolled over onto her stomach and slid down my body, dragging her lips over my chest and then lower, over my stomach. I watched in disbelief as she slid down my legs till her knees hit the carpet in front of the sofa and her mouth was open and poised over my cock, which was so insanely hard now that the tension made him curve up into an arc over my belly so that the pre cum that dripped from the slit fell on my own stomach. Shelly didn't seem to mind, didn't seem to pay any attention. She took him in her hand and opened her lips.

It was the first time a woman's mouth had ever touched my cock, and I watched slumped on that white sofa, transfixed as she held my dick in one hand and bent her head, opened her mouth and extended her little pink tongue. All was illuminated in the gray-blue glare of the TV set as she kissed the head, then licked it, then licked it again. Then she opened her mouth and gave a deep sigh and plunged her face down over my cock, closed her lips around me and began to work her head up and down.

I was shocked and astounded as Mrs. Shelly Greenberg began to suck my cock--slowly, tentatively, moving her head back and forth and letting my prick slide between her lips with a soft, liquid sound.

Thinking back on it now, I realize it wasn't a very good blow job. It was obvious she hadn't had much experience at it because her execution was cautious and tentative, and it occurred to me that she was probably doing this only because she'd found that Nina had done it to Barry and didn't want to be upstaged. But she was sucking my cock all the same--my dick was in a woman's mouth, and it felt sensational. I gave myself over to the pleasure of her mouth, and as she gained confidence she started doing it faster, bobbing her head and sucking with growing excitement, digging her nails into my thighs and pumping her head up and down, her sun-bleached hair falling in her face. I could hear her breathing hard through her nose, and stopping every so often to quickly swallow the excess saliva in her mouth, but it didn't matter to me. I was hers, her slave, and I would have done anything for her at that point.

My head fell back, my knees fell open and I stared blindly at the ceiling as her mouth slid up and down my shaft. I thought of the kids, and wondered what they would have think if they woke up and crept downstairs to find their mother kneeling between Uncle jack's spread legs with his big hard penis in her mouth. The thought almost put me over the edge right then and there, and I jerked myself upright.

"Wait! Mrs. Greenberg! Shelly! Wait!"

She raised her face off my cock, eyes lidded with lust, lips wet and swollen. "Do you like that Jack? Is that good?"

"Oh my God! Oh my God yes, it's good! But I'd better put on a condom. I'm close, I'm close!" I never would have presumed to ejaculate into her mouth. Never. Not then. It just wasn't done.

"No," she said, standing up and taking off her panties. "I want you to do it to me. I want you to put it in me."

I blushed. I'd already pulled out a Sheikh and was tearing it open, getting ready to unroll it onto my dick.

"You don't need that," she said. She seemed almost in a daze, intoxicated, standing there with her robe open and her panties off. "I'm on the pill."

"You're sure?" I'd only been laid once without wearing a rubber, and that out of desperation and because she swore she was safe, and I was sick with worry for weeks until her next period.

"Of course." She smiled that kind of spacey smile, and I stood up to let her get on the sofa but she shook her head no. "Take all your clothes off, Jack, and we'll do it on the floor."

"The floor?"

"Yes. It's better on the floor. You'll see."

She moved over to the darker end of the living room where a coffee table would screen us should the kids suddenly appear. She slid her robe off and laid it on the carpet, and I suddenly realized what she was wearing on top, that little tee-shirt. It was the kind of tee shirts little girls wore, but obscenely stretched from the mass of her breasts, her nipples showing through. It was as if she wanted me to see her as a child or little girl.

Her attitude had changed somehow since the blow job. She seemed calmer now, less passionate, as if fucking me now was something she had to do, a commitment she owed me. As I used my knee to push the coffee table back, I saw the portrait of her family standing on top of it--a professional studio photo of Shelly, Steve, Matt, and Michelle, posed in a smiling family group. It made me uncomfortable and as she got down on the floor I tried to unobtrusively lay it on its face.

"No," she said, lying down and straightening her hair. "Leave it there. Leave it right there."

She stretched out on her back and straightened her robe beneath her, then parted her legs. I thought maybe I should take her in my arms and kiss her or hold her, continue the foreplay and mutual arousal, but something in her attitude told me she didn't want that. She was on her back with her legs apart, and she was ready for business. I knelt between her thighs and leaned over her, and Shelly reached up and caressed my face.

"You know, I've always trusted you, Jack. The kids do too. I know you'd never do or say anything to hurt us, right?"

"No," I said. "Never."

With that she sighed and closed her eyes, ready for me. I took my dick in my hand and tried to find her opening, bumping clumsily against her thigh and her ass and God knows what else.

"Easy," she said with a smile. "Easy. Here. Let me help."

She raised her knees and took hold of my cock and guided me to the maddening softness and heat of her open pussy. I knew the initial entry was often painful and difficult, so I deliberately held myself back, resisting the urge to plunge right into her. But Shelly planted her feet on the floor and reached around me and grabbed my ass and in one smooth move she lifted her hips and pulled me into her, impaling herself on my cock and taking my shaft into her.

She gave a little grunt of discomfort while I groaned in salacious pleasure as her tight sheath closed on me and the animal heat of her slick pussy radiated through my body. I was fucking her, was all I could think. I was fucking a married woman, and I pushed in a little deeper.

"More," she whispered. She slid her legs around the back of my thighs and then reached around me and grabbed her ankles and used them to pull me in even deeper, sighing in pleasure as she forced the broad base of my cock against the very lips of her pussy.

I expected her to set the pace, to tell me how she wanted it, but she didn't. Once she had me inside, she said, "Stay like that just a minute. Just stay like that," and I did, holding my breath, feeling my prick throbbing inside her as if I would cum at any second. Then she relaxed and said, "Okay. Do it. Do it, Jack."

I started to fuck her, trying desperately not to go too fast, trying to make it last. I raised my ass and pushed into her and did it again and again, and at first she was quiet but then she started moaning and breathing hard. Her legs fell open and she grabbed my hair and pulled my mouth to hers and kissed me hard and deep, but she didn't move much, letting me take her, letting me take what I wanted. Every so often I stopped and held myself still inside her to control my excitement and then she would give her an impatient little swivel, a little thrust up at me that sent chills up my spine, and I would start to fuck her again.

She was right about doing it on the floor. It was wonderfully good, intense. There was no give in the floor, no softness to absorb the force of my thrusts, so each plunge went into her deep and hard, making her grunt at first, the grunts becoming moans of obsequious pleasure as she adjusted to my size. I pushed her little tee shirt up so her tits were exposed and I bent my head and sucked and nursed on her like I had in the filter room. She grabbed my hair and pulled my mouth against her tits and hissed with pleasure: "Is it good, Jack? Is it good? Tell me how good it is! Tell me how good I feel."

I had the eerie feeling she was talking to the photograph, but I didn't care. "God yes, it's good! It's so fucking good! You're the best, Shelly! You're just the best!"

I could see her smile in the darkness. "Tell me when you're close, Jack. Tell me when you get close!"

"Yes, yes. I will. I will," I promised, though I had no idea if I could or not.

I tried to draw it out. I tried to stop moving when I felt myself getting close, but then Shelly would do that little hip-wiggle that drove me crazy, and I had to start fucking her again, pushing into her, then slamming into that sweet pussy again and again, nailing her ass to the floor. She might have orgasmed. I couldn't tell. There were a couple of times when she seemed to choke on her own breath and turn rigid and motionless, her face and chest getting red and hot, but then she'd collapse again into this disjointed pile of female flesh and I'd keep on fucking her, fucking her through my pleasure, through the perverse knowledge of her kids asleep upstairs, through the excitement of knowing she was older than me and married and the lewd thought that I was fucking her in her own home, on the floor, like an animal.

Finally it was too much. The orgasmic pressure just became too much, a force in its own right and all the nerves in my body were screaming for release, vibrating with erotic tension. My weight was all on top of her, my hips were pumping with furious abandon and the sweat was streaming off my body.

"You close, baby? You close?"

All I could do was grunt and gasp, but my total lack of control told her all she needed to know. I tried to speak and nothing came out but a kind of guttural snarl as I felt it start, felt my orgasm start.

But that was apparently all she needed to know exactly where I was, because suddenly Shelly planted her feet on the carpet and started fucking back at me, lifting her hips with hard, angry strokes and slamming her loins against me so hard and fast that our flesh smacked together with the sound of some obscene, wet applause. She fucked me like a fury, with all the love and passion and hurt and hatred that men and women feel for each other, and the cum came boiling up through my cock like a stream of magma and exploded into her pussy in jets of savage ecstasy, again, and again, and again, as Shelly kept her feet planted on the floor and her hips tilted up to receive every drop of my explosive release, opening herself up to me and taking it, caressing my back and whispering, "Yes, Jack! All of it, baby! All of it! Shoot it inside me, baby! Deep! I want it deep! All of it! Every drop!"

She held herself pressed against me as I ejaculated inside her, the first wracking, ecstatic spasms giving way to the shuddering pleasure of deep, draining relief as the semen gushed from my cock and filled her with living, liquid male heat.

"Mmmm..." She caressed the back of my neck and kissed me, pressing her pussy hard against my shrinking cock.

"Who's the best now, Jack? Who's the best you've ever had now?"

~ ~ ~

Afterwards, Shelly made us lie on the carpet for what seemed like an awfully long time, and had me get a pillow from the sofa to put under her ass because she said it was sore. Then we picked ourselves up and collected our clothes and went upstairs, past the kids' room, and made love again in her bedroom, sweeter this time, and not so desperate. I left around two AM. The kids never woke up.

I'd like to be able to say that we fell in love, or that there was some satisfying emotional conclusion to this affair, and for a while it seemed like there might be. I saw her several more times that summer, and learned an awful lot about men and women and making love from her, but the fact was, that though we were very fond of each other, it was basically a sexual relationship. There was no way we were going to fall in love. We moved in two different worlds, and summer was drawing to an end.

She spent a lot of time talking about her hatred of Steve, a hatred that had been simmering for years, caused by his financial tightness regarding her and the kids and general boorishness and selfishness, among other things. They'd tried to reconcile, but the last attempt ended with Shelly's discovery of his affair with the woman at the Annex, and that had been the last straw. She talked about how she was going to ruin him in the divorce, both financially and socially, and that was kind of scary. The divorce papers were served the week after I first saw her, and it was because lawyers got involved that I finally had to stop seeing her. She was pretty sure she was being watched for signs of adulterous behavior and wouldn't risk losing her legal advantage by being seen with me. But by then it was only a week or so before school started and I left Cherry Park for good, and meanwhile Shelly'd taken the kids and gone to stay at her mother's, so I never really got to say goodbye. When I went back to visit the deserted pool in November, nobody knew what had happened to her.

There was one more thing I should mention that didn't occur to me until months later, but has bothered me deeply ever since. It's improbably and hard to believe, but I should mention it nonetheless.

That night after we first made love on the floor, Shelly'd made me lie there with her with her hips up for almost an hour, which I thought was kind of odd. Later on when we were upstairs, I'd gone to use the bathroom, and, nosy as I am, I poked around in her medicine cabinet, and found there a three-month supply of birth control pills, bound in a rubber band. I'd never seen BC pills and I found the packaging intriguing, with the pills arranged in a calendar cycle, so I took a good look at them.

The package for the June supply was empty, all used up, and so was July. But here it was near the end of August, and that month's supply hadn't been touched at all.