against donning a robe. Marshall might just as well get a good look at her as she truly was, a woman unashamed of her own body and reasonably sure of its powers.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
She fretted through a cup of coffee that cloyed the top of her mouth, rinsed the cup and put it away. Then Lauralee said the hell with it and poured herself a drink. Out at parties with her husband, she had managed to nurse a weak drink most of the evening, and only took two, at most. Now she didn't mind a jolt or three, to loosen things up; another surprise for Marshall.
Oh Lord, she thought; what a miserable, uptight woman she had been, clicking off all her little pat answers as to what was right and what was grievously wrong, and never imagining that she could be mistaken in anything. It was a wonder that Marshall put up with her for so long. He must have loved her.
Lauralee had another drink, sipping it slower this time, and wandered about the room, at last slipping one of Robbie's soft rock tapes into the deck. The primitive beat echoed a throbbing within her body, and she felt an anticipatory tingling, the rising of her nipples against the delicate, whispery material of her gown.
Marshall wouldn't refuse her; she would damned well see to that much. She would show him what a tempestuous, volatile woman she had become, demonstrate all her newly acquired skills in ways he couldn't resist. Then, after she had fucked him down to a limp nub, after she had drained the semen from his balls in the furious wildness she was now capable of, then if he was able to walk out on her he didn't deserve all she could give him, and the hell with him.
Swaying to the music, rocking her svelte hips from side to side, Lauralee dampened her lush lips with a pink tongue and waited.
When she heard a rattle at the front door Lauralee flinched and quickly finished her drink. A pulse hammered in her throat and she felt her tummy jumping. With an effort, she made herself be calm, even though she knew she didn't have any idea what she was going to say to Marshall. Maybe he hadn't been home; maybe Robbie couldn't find him.
But suddenly there he was, standing uncertainly in the entrance to the living room where he'd once watched ball games on TV and napped after a hard day. Lauralee's breath hung in her throat; he hadn't changed at all. He was still tall and wide at the shoulders, and Marshall hadn't put on a belly, didn't seem an ounce beyond his usual two hundred pounds. His hair was still light brown and unruly, and his hazel eyes were nervous.
Why, she thought, he's as scared as I am, and stood up to move undulating toward him, holding out her hand. 'Hello, Marshall. It's so good to see you.'
Behind his father, Robbie murmured about having to go down the street. He winked at her before slipping away to leave them alone, and there was a world of meaning in the gesture.
'Lauralee,' Marshall said in his deep voice. 'I didn't expect – and when Robbie said you insisted on seeing me…'
Warm and strong, his hand closed over her own, and Lauralee clung to it. 'I wanted you to see ME,' she said. 'I've changed, Marshall.'
His eyes swept over her long body, taking in the diapbanous negligee and the way it clung to the molding of her breasts, how it snuggled to her hips and dipped in beguilingly at her crotch.
'Yeah,' he said. 'You look different, somehow.'
She led him to the bar and brushed her hip against his thigh when she went around to pour him a drink. 'Do I look sexy?'
He nodded, then frowned. 'But you always did. It was like icing on a cake, but empty inside; no goodies beyond the froth.'
Lauralee leaned over the bar top and the gown fell apart to give him a good look at her breasts. 'I didn't know, Marshall. Now I do. Here's to knowing.'
Drinking hurriedly, he said, 'I don't know what the hell this is all about, why you're coming on like this, and…'
She tossed down her own bourbon and slid back around the bar. Whipping off the filmy negligee, she stood with her legs apart and her arms out from her sides. 'This,' she said throatily. 'This is what it's all about, Marshall – me. You AND me. Look at me; I'm aching for you; my nipples are so stiff they hurt, and my pussy is wiggling inside. I want to fuck you, Marshall – right now.'
Stunned, he could only stare in disbelief at her transition, at the words she used, at the nakedness she had always kept hidden from him before. Lauralee moved to him and picked up his hands to cup them against her tits, holding them in place while her belly rolled suggestively and her mouth reached for his.
She pried apart his lips with her tongue, and ran it far into his mouth, sliding it over his own and clashing her teeth against his, mixing her excited breath with his gasp of shock. His hands tightened upon her breasts, and Lauralee ground her hairy snatch into him with savage, hungry arcs.
Hotly searing flames leaped within her, and she tugged at the man, yanked him from the barstool and dragged him to the center of the room, her hands ripping at his slacks. Marshall couldn't get himself together, but when she pushed him to the carpet and stripped away his pants, his shorts, her ex-husband's prick leaped out strong and thick, the rosy head glowing and blue veins bulging along the swollen staff.
'It's a perfectly beautiful cock,' she breathed. 'I never knew how lovely it was, how powerful and big.'
'L-lauralee…'
She didn't even let him get his shirt off. Fiercely, she pried his legs apart and kneeled between his hairy thighs to bite his belly. Marshall twisted in surprise, and she took a good grip upon the base of his rigid shaft, plunging her mouth over the distended cockhead, sucking it along her flicking, coiling tongue, pulling it back to caress the velvet chalice of her throat.
Lavishly, she fondled that pulsing knob, bobbing her head up and down in a steady, lascivious rhythm. She felt this new-old prick responding, this wonderful hard meat she had never before tasted. For a shivering moment, Lauralee considered blowing him all the way, eager to know the spurting cascade of his semen in her throat. But she wanted to be screwed more. There would be time later to give Marshall all the hotly siphoning head he might crave. Lifting her mouth from around his slippery rod, she crawled astride his body, coming up on her knees and clinging to his pole.
'Now,' she panted, 'now I'm going to show you how I can fuck, baby. I'm guiding this big, sweet cockhead up into my cunt lips, into these hot lips that are wet and slidy for it.'
Pushing the bulb into her labia, Lauralee gyrated sensuously, forcing her weight down upon it and knowing the sensation of the sponge-hard glans moving into her opening. It was familiar in shape and texture, but different now, strange and exciting because she wanted it, wanted it.
'So hard,' she moaned, 'so good, baby.' His upright cock slipped on up into the greasy clenching of her aroused vagina, and the satin glove caressed it, drew it full length, until her crotch came down upon his pelvis and it was buried to the stem.
Rotating her ass, churning her belly, Lauralee whirled upon the embedded meat, forcing the ballooned knob around inside her pussy, grinding the thick trunk against her inflamed clitoris and pumping, pumping. Marshall was gasping, and his hands fumbled out to find and hold onto the swinging cheeks of her trim ass. He was thrusting back, lifting it up into her, meeting her driving strokes with his own and being screwed as she had never laid it to him before in all their married life.
But before he could get too turned on, she pulled at his hips and made him roll over on top of her. Now, she thought dizzily, now it feels deeper and longer, and it's possible to get legs around him. Long and sleek, smooth and lean, her legs made a net over his heaving body, and Lauralee tilted them up as she went back upon her shoulders.
'Fuck me, fuck!' she chanted, trying to squeeze him ever deeper into the seething cauldron of her snatch. 'Jam that meat hard into my pussy, darling – harder – harder! Ah, that's the way!'
Seesawing up and down, swivelling her hips and banging her greedy pelvis into his, Lauralee screwed her lover furiously, demandingly, wringing her juicy snatch around his pistoning club and humping him with animal hunger.
