May Sucks - Happy Mother's Day, Bastard

May Sucks-Happy Mother's Day, Bastard.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We have all read the February Sucks stories. Too many times, it would appear. I personally don't read them anymore.

My wife has read several of them, and many of the sequels, or alternate endings, and such.

She thinks they are ludicrous. My wife and I are the product of a New Jersey middle-class upbringing, married for fifty years. Five children and ten grandchildren. Mrs. Bear is cute, caring, sensitive, sexy, very open, loving.........

Can I stop now, honey??

She says that NO woman involved in a loving marriage would act like that.

She also said that if someone came up to us and asked her to dance with them, she would turn them down.

I would also have a problem with this action. If you want to dance, bring your own partner. I was U.S. Air Force, retired, 17th S.O.G. out of Phan Rang, R.V.N. and McGuire A.F.B., New Jersey.

I would not have put up with the shit that the hero did.

We also had a problem with their choice of friends. Folks like these would not be in our circle of acquaintances. They might get their asses killed or beat to shit, but they would not be our friends.

So put it all together, it is rather unbelievable, which brings us to our submission-"May Sucks, Happy Mother's Day, Bastard."

We hope you enjoy this story of the distaff side of the coin.

Understand, this is primarily Carolyn's (my wife's) submission. So if you don't like it, let my wife know through me. Remember, though, that she has Italian relatives.

Enjoy.

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May broke clear and clean after a shitty Winter and Spring.

My name is Lydia Lawson. My husband is Frank.

We have been married for eighteen years.

We are both thirty-nine years old. I am a registered nurse who graduated from one of the two-year diploma schools. My husband is a diesel mechanic. We met in high school, and I was instantly hooked.

I work in labor and delivery; he works for a trans-national trucking line.

We have three children- Francis Michael, eighteen years old; Steven Jacob, ten years old; and Lydia Marie (the apple of his eye), two and a half years of age. We married after he was discharged from the Army and have been happy ever since.

Or so I thought. The sex was pretty dam good. My husband even got my ass on several occasions; birthdays, father's day, or when my monthly troubles came around. Actually, I liked it- lots of the time. So I thought we were pretty good on the intimacy front.

Mother's Day was fast approaching.

I pulled out all the stops. So what if it was for Mother's Day; I figured my husband would benefit from mommy having a great time. I made reservations at an upscale Italian restaurant, followed by a comedy club show.

Then dancing and drinks followed by a penthouse suite reserved for the weekend. The kids are off to my parents for a long weekend.

Grandma thought it was my Mother's Day present to her.

(Heh, Heh, Heh.) I'll take that.

Shopping got me a little black dress that would scandalize the Parent Teacher's Association, matching Victoria's Secret Lingerie. Seamed stockings and four-inch come-fuck-me pumps with open toes completed the outfit. My best friend Maxine wanted to know if I intended to seduce someone.

"Yeah," I smirked, "My husband. I think I'll see if he can afford me."

She laughed and said it would be a fait accompli.

"He is going to take one look at that outfit, and the two of you will probably be going to jail for a public display of lewdness."

I grinned and said, "God willing, and the creek don't rise!"

I hid all the goodies in my wardrobe and lingerie drawers.

I informed my dense husband that the second weekend in May was significant.

"Do not make any plans. We are going out to celebrate."

"What's the occasion, babe?"

I looked at him like maybe I should take my show on the road.

"MOTHER'S DAY, ASSHOLE!!!"

He blushed and hemmed and hawed.

"Oh, yeah, I knew that," he mumbled.

That Friday dawned clear and bright.

I ran all my errands- taking the baby to daycare, hitting the beauty parlor, bank, detouring to the Sheraton, getting the key cards, all taken care of. Then I was on my way home. I packed the kid's overnight bags and kicked back till the school bus pulled up and deposited my children.

" O.K." I said, "Grab your bags and let's go. Gram and Gramps are waiting, and we still have to get Lydia from daycare."

Two boys immediately whined, "But we're hungry!!"

"And McDonald's, too."

I am not just another pretty face.

We picked up Lydia and cruised to the drive-thru. The man in the box took our order, we paid, and we left for grandma's.

We pulled up in the drive, and the kids piled out, leaving all the doors open on the Expedition.

The baby was still locked in her car seat, waiting for Mommy, covered in apple slices and french fries. I unbuckled her and put her on the ground, and she raced off to grins from her grandparents.

I pulled backpacks and a diaper bag from the car and shut the doors.

"BOYS!" I yelled. My errant sons raced back, collected their luggage, and then raced back inside. I shook my head and shouldered the diaper bag.

I went inside, spoke to my folks, admonished my children to behave, and kissed them all.

Mom told me to have a good time (Wink, Wink)- Dad admonished me to behave myself.

(I'm married to the guy, Dad!!)

I hugged them and kissed them both, leaving for a weekend of passion, sex, and love.

I got home, checked the clock, and knew I still had plenty of time. I went upstairs, stripped, and ran a bath. While the tub was filling, I looked at myself in the full-length mirror.

'Not bad for a thirty-nine-year-old mother of three,' I thought. I put my hairdo in an old-fashioned shower cap and slipped into the garden tub.

'Oh, that felt good.

I soaped myself and let my hands linger on my breasts and vagina. I rinsed off, got my razor and shaving gel, and languidly 'cleared the underbrush' from my landing strip.

I lay in the tub, let the water cool, and got out of the tub draining the bath.

I dried off, removed the shower cap, and fussed with my hair.

'Yeah,' I thought, 'not bad for an old lady.

'He's gonna get his money's worth tonight and tomorrow, and then I'll ride him until he dies Sunday.

We will go to church Sunday evening before we pick up the kids.'

I sparingly splashed perfume in all the appropriate places(his favorite, Shalimar) and slipped into some old cotton undies.

I picked up my ratty old comfy terry cloth robe, slipped it on, and belted it.

I picked up my lotion bottle and sat to smooth my freshly shaved legs.

I retrieved my small suitcase and garment bag and packed all my sexy goodies. Then I got a pair of tight jeans, a cotton bra, and a t-shirt. I got dressed and went downstairs and made some coffee. Then, Frank came home.

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Frank

"Alright, let's shower and get dressed. I have everything packed and ready. We need to get to the hotel and check in. Joel and Maxine and Mary and Mark will meet us at the restaurant. Come on, come on, hurry up. I'm getting excited. I can't wait!!"

"What are you so excited about?" I hung up my jacket and went upstairs to change.

"And what do you want me to wear? You're not exactly dressed up."

"Change your pants, and put on a clean shirt. I've got your suit and clean underwear and shoes packed.

"COME ON, HURRY UP!!!"

I grumbled and went into the bathroom and relieved myself.

I stripped off my clothes and got clean jeans and a t-shirt. I shit, showered, and shaved.

'I don't know what's got her so spooled up...... Ohh, yeah, Mother's Day. I guess I'm going to have to perform.' Then I started to grin and remembered that afternoon in the stockroom.

'That little twenty-one-year-old supply room clerk could suck cock!! And her ass was so tight!!! At least that way, she couldn't get pregnant.

'My wife is so clueless that she thinks she's getting it all. Hell, on the nights she has shift work, the sexy blonde rocks my world; the only downside was I got to wear a condom.'

The supply room clerk said she had a friend, twenty-six years old, who would like to get some of his attention.

'Sure, why not,' I thought. 'No sense not sharing the wealth.'

After dressing, I pulled on slip-on sneakers and brushed my hair. I looked in the mirror and figured this would do till they got to the hotel. I ambled downstairs and grabbed the extra luggage not already in the car.

"What are we taking?" I asked innocently.

She stared and then rolled her eyes. "The Expedition, dummy. I will look fabulous when we get to dinner, and I'm not going to step out of a dirty F-250 four bye. Come on, sweetie, romance me. Make believe you are taking your girlfriend out while your wife is busting her ass with the kids."

I froze and almost lost it. I recovered and said, "For my hot-looking 'girlfriend,' ANYTHING!!"

Whew, that was close.

She grinned, went over to me, and took my tonsils out. (Could have sworn they did that when I was four years old. Oh, well)

We went out and got in the Expedition. I reached in and buckled her seat belt, much to her surprise, and as I buckled her shoulder harness, she giggled and stuck her tongue in my ear. This woke up my little friend, and he started to stir.

I went around and got in, started the car, and we backed out of the driveway.

Thirty-five minutes later, we pulled into the Sheraton circular drive and up to the front door. A valet came and opened our doors and got our luggage. We walked in and breezed past the front desk.

"What about checking in?" I asked.

"Your hot girlfriend has already arranged that," she answered, waving the key cards in the air. If she had looked, she would have seen the shock on my face when Lydia said 'girlfriend'; but she was on a roll, enjoying the moment.

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Lydia

We got to the elevator and rode to the twelfth floor. We moved down the hall to room 1217; I opened the door.

We laid out the suitcases and unpacked. I stripped and picked up the undies and stockings and waved to my husband, slipping into the bathroom to dress. I did the finishing touches on my hair, rolled on stockings, donned the black lace garter belt, then the black lace panties. I looked at the diaphanous bralette and hesitated.

'What the hell,' I thought. 'I can pull this off.' I threw the bralette on the sink counter.

I checked myself in the mirror and grabbed the terrycloth robe off the hook on the back of the bathroom door. I walked out and took my dress out of the garment bag.

My dense husband was drinking a beer and watching the Astro's ballgame.

"GET DRESSED, OR YOU CAN JERK OFF ALL WEEKEND," I yelled.

He jumped up and kicked his sneaks off. He blushed.

"Yes ma'am," he muttered.

Shaking my head, I went back into the bathroom, slammed the door, and took a deep breath.

"Sometimes.....," I muttered. "Here I am all hot to trot, and he's acting like we're in a sports bar." I opened the plastic garment bag from the dress store and removed THE DRESS.

It was iridescent black, coming to three inches above the knee, slit up the front. There was a bright gold zipper down the back, and the neckline plunged to almost waist level but was backed up with sheer black lace. My breasts were showcased but shyly. As I said, the Parent Teacher's Association would be shocked because they would be jealous.

I looked in the mirror and was smugly satisfied.

I walked out into the room proper and found my husband dressed to the nines.

Black slacks and an off-white turtleneck with black slip-on loafers. Matching sports jacket. Frank looked good enough to eat. (OOOOOHH, naughty, naughty.)

He looked at me, and his eyes lit up as I slipped on the four-inch open-toed pumps. I gathered up the sheer lace mantilla-like shawl and draped it over my shoulders. I gave Frank a smoldering look.

"O.K., tiger, let's start the party."

'I have to be careful, or we'll never leave the hotel room,' I thought.

I sidled up to him and kissed him chastely (so as not to smear my lipstick.)

We left the room and rode the elevator to the lobby. Frank copped a couple of feels, and we were like two teenagers. We got in the Expedition and drove to Romano's Italian Restaurant. We were greeted by Anthony, the maître d', and were shown to our table. Mary and Mark were already there, and the waiter took our drink orders.

We caught up on events, and soon, Maxine and Joel arrived, and the party got into full swing. We had a wonderful dinner and just enough liquor to loosen us up.

We left for the comedy club and a little more alcohol. Two and a half hours later, with tears of laughter running down our cheeks, we adjourned for The Adobe Nightclub.

We got a table adjacent to the dance floor. Immediately the girls dragged the guys out to dance. They managed to work off several drinks from the comedy club. When we returned to the table, we ordered margaritas all around, and complimentary tequila shots arrived.

The liquor loosened everybody's consciousness, and the conversation turned to s-e-x.

"I was going to make reservations at that downtown club, you know the one where that football player spirited the married woman away for the weekend and her husband followed them and killed them both?"

"Yeah," Frank snickered to the group, "My kind of guy. I would never put up with that shit. That guy may have been some hot-shot football player, but a fight is a fight. I would have made him pay."

I looked at my husband and got a little wet 'down below.'

'DAMN' I thought. 'He would fight for me.' I was getting excited. Then the conversation shifted a little. My husband was feeling his oats.

"Now, if it was the other way around, I would have taken advantage of it. If you can't control your wife, it's your loss."

'Control your wife??' 'Your loss???' What the hell is he talking about?'

Just then, a minor disturbance came through the front door. Joel looked around and almost spilled his margarita. Four attractive young ladies had entered the club and were escorted to a table across the dance floor from ours.

"Isn't that Linda Graebel, the Sports Illustrated swimsuit model??," said Joel. Mark turned and looked.

"Jesus, it is page 67; the orange bikini." This picture was legendary. Even my 15-year-old son had seen it and thought she was 'H-O-T.'

"Bleached blonde," said Maxine, a fellow nurse at the hospital where I worked.

Mary huffed; "Plastic barbie. Those aren't real, Mark. Put your eyes back in your head." Mary worked in the IT. dept. at the hospital.

The guys lowered their eyes and blushed.

Two of the young ladies started to walk in our direction. One of the women was Linda Graebel; the other was a striking girl of Oriental heritage.

"Cripes, it's Linda Graebel; and I'm pretty sure the other one is Alissa Cho," said Joel.

They came up to the table and looked down at us, literally.

"Good evening, folks. My name is Linda, and this is Alissa. Would you gentleman care to dance?"

Frank, Joel, and Mark had risen and were stuttering. Maxine and Mary were seething, and it was going to get ugly. So I intervened.

"No, thank you, ladies. Our husbands are already occupied. But it was nice of you to offer."

Linda looked at me with a scornful sneer.

"I wasn't talking to you, Grandma. I was speaking to the hunks."

I hadn't gotten into a cat fight since high school. I was on my feet and in the bitch's face in a heartbeat.

"What part of 'NO' did you not understand, skank?? It's Mother's Day weekend, and I am not in the mood to ruin it.

"But a little diversion like stomping your skinny ass would get me wound up."

The two women backed up, and Alissa grabbed Linda's arm and pulled the other woman away.

'They're not worth it,' she whispered.

Linda shook her arm free and stared at me.

"You're lucky I'm just out for some fun. Otherwise, I might ruin my nails."

Hey, I've got three kids, one of them a teen aged boy. This bitch didn't stand a chance.

"Bring it on, bitch!"

Frank saved her ass.

"Come, sweetie, finish your drink, and let's dance some more."

I scowled at the four floozies across the dance floor, sighed and turned, tossed down the remainder of the margarita, and grabbed Frank's hand. My right hand slid to his ass, and we made our way onto the dance floor.

The song ended, and I kept him out on the floor for a fast one, and we were both getting a little hot. We returned to our table, and I picked up my little black purse.

"I need to go 'powder my nose.' Shall we?"

Maxine and Mary grabbed their clutches, and we adjoined to the little girl's room.

I heeded the call of nature, and as I was starting to pull my undies up, I thought to myself, 'Grandma, huh? I'll show her.' I slipped the scrap of lace into my purse and straightened my dress. I joined my two cohorts at the mirrors and touched up my warpaint.

"For a minute there, I thought you had arranged some entertainment. You handled it well, 'Red Sonja,' " chirped Mary.

Maxine grinned as she touched up her mascara.

"I'm impressed, Lydia. Put her right in her place. Still, it would have been interesting,......" she grinned.

"You guys are no help," I chuckled," "I want to get laid tonight, not arrested for cleaning the child's clock." I re-applied my lipstick and smiled into the mirror.

"Come on, let's go raise the temperature a little."

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Frank's take on the night

I picked up the margarita and downed the remainder. The girls had just made it to the ladies' room when the two models returned.

"So, does your mother tell you what you can or can't do?"

I looked up at her, and of course, being my own man, I looked at her and said, "HELL, NO."

Mark stuttered and said, "Frank, I don't think this is a good idea."

Joel was visibly shaken and grabbed at my arm. "This will not end well, Frank."

I shook free and sneered at my two friends.

"Am I the only one with balls??"

We moved out to the dance floor, sandwiched between the two babes, and started to grind on each other. Linda leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"Let's take this party elsewhere. Or do you have to get mommy's permission?"

I bowed up and said a man does what he wants, when he wants.

We turned and left the club, collecting the other two women on the way.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lydia's return

We sashayed out of the restroom, shaking everything God had given us in a subdued manner. But as we approached the table, something was amiss.

Only two mature males were sitting there. And neither was my husband.

We walked up with a little less swagger.

The embarrassment was evident.

"Where's Frank?" I asked.

'He's probably in the can,' I thought.

But the boys did not seem to be too happy. They were deathly white and shifting uncomfortably in their seats as we approved. They caught sight of us and jumped to their feet.

"Lydia, we're sorry, Frank wouldn't listen to us," said Joel. "The two models came back and asked us to dance."

"WE didn't do anything," said Mark. "But Frank couldn't get up fast enough."

I turned and looked to where the skanks had been. Their table was empty, and the waitress was cleaning it up.

'Son of a bitch', I muttered. 'What the fuck was Frank up to??'

"They dragged Frank onto the dance floor and started grinding on his crotch."

"They targeted him as soon as you guys went to the lady's room."

Maxine blew up. "AND YOU TWO LET THEM!!"