"He found out, then?"
"Oh, yes. Quite an awakening he had, too," Creagon said with a laugh that held very little humor. "He came back unexpectedly from a business trip one night, came up to give us a good-night kiss (if you can believe that), and found me with my cock pinning Melissa's cunt to her bed."
"Jesus, he must have crapped!" Marne said, well imagining how the super-staid William Davenport must have reacted.
"That, I would say, is the understatement of this year and next."
"So you ran away."
"And Melissa was packed off to a series of convent schools that were designed to sap the juices right of her and riddle her with guilt."
"No wonder your old man was so busy telling Melissa he was sorry," Marne said, finding it more than a little ridiculous that William Davenport had waited until he was on his deathbed to attempt mending the schism.
Granted, any man, especially one brought up within the puritanical ethics of William Davenport's generation, was apt to look on what had happened as a little more than harmless child's play; but, still, the man had obviously stretched his righteous indignation to the limits.
"So, he repents at last, and dies somehow thinking all the harm he's caused has somehow been miraculously erased," Creagon said, giving another of his sardonic laughs. "He was a bastard-a stupid bastard at that-up until the very end of his life."
"And, no wonder Melissa is so upset about John's transformation," Marne said, suddenly getting the whole point Creagon had been trying to make by his little confession. "She probably doesn't enjoy sex much at all after years of doing penance for a couple harmless fucks with you, does she?"
"And if it weren't so tragic, it would almost be funny, wouldn't it? My poor sister married to a Dr. Jekyll who turns out to be Mr. Hyde."
"Somehow, I think that simile leaves a lot to be desired," Marne said, smiling.
"Anyway, enough of my sister and her marital problems with your brother, huh? It's always a bit depressing to find that there are people out there in the big wide world who don't manage quite as beautifully as you and I."
"Is that a roundabout way of telling me you've still got that hard cock you once mentioned?" Marne asked, batting her thick eyelashes coquettishly.
"Would this be a little less subtle way of telling you the same thing?" Creagon asked, taking his wife's hand and moving it down to cover the bulge Creagon's blood-engorged cock was making in the bedclothes.
Chapter 3
Marne worked the blankets and the cock-gone-stiff beneath them. She continued to massage, neither she nor Creagon speaking, each knowing that Marne would soon tire of having even the material separating her from her husband's naked cock flesh.
It was Creagon who first began to peel back the covers concealing his lower body. Marne, though, quickly obliged by momentarily freeing her handhold on her husband's covered cock and scooting off the bed long enough for Creagon to achieve his unveiling.
Marne hesitated before returning to her position next to her husband, even though, as always, Creagon's naked physique exerted an almost physical pull on her-much like a sun must have exerted its pull over the planets that circled it.
However, Marne got a kind of masochistic pleasure out of delaying. Not only that, but she always enjoyed just drinking Creagon's exquisite form up with her eyes.
To Marne, her husband never looked more like a bronze Greek statue than he did when he was completely without his clothes. Except, of course, no Greek statue Marne had ever seen had come complete with a cock quite the size of the one sprouted from Creagon's lower belly. Not that Marne had married Creagon for his large penis and stallion-like balls. God, no! It wasn't how big a cock was, after all, was it? Marne was confident Creagon would have been just as expert in fucking if he'd had half the cock he did have.
"You trying to give me a good case of blue balls?" Creagon asked, smiling to show his even white teeth.
"Why, are your balls going blue?" Marne asked and smiled back. "They look big and they look bulky; but, funny, they don't look blue to me."
"Stand there for a few minutes more, teasing me, and see what happens," Creagon told her.
"I just might do that," Marne said, her smile going wider.
"Then," Creagon said, moving quickly off the bed and coming to a standing position in front of his wife, "if the mountain won't come to Muhammad, then vice versa."
The two came into each other's arms by mutual consent. Marne's hands slipped around her husband's waist and down along Creagon's muscled back to a resting on the man's solid ass buns. Creagon's hands slid down along the slippery softness offered by the apricot-colored fabric clinging to his wife's voluptuous figure.
Marne's mouth found Creagon's mouth, her lips coming open with the pressure. Marne felt the gently exploring probes of Creagon's tongue, first against the inside of her lips, then on her gums and teeth. Marne had always liked the way Creagon kissed-one of several things she had liked about him from the beginning. He didn't come on like the mouth that swallowed Chicago. There were no sudden yawning lips threatening to suck up her head to her neck. On the other hand, there wasn't any timidity to his kissing either. Creagon achieved a nice balance between aggressiveness and passivity. His mouth remained firm. The exchange of saliva (Creagon's mouth always managed to taste of the peppermint lozenges he sucked), was always a subtle thing, never an obvious flooding that threatened to drown every sinus cavity.
The two bodies merged closer, separated only by the sheerness of Marne's negligee. But the material didn't hide the fact that Marne's nipples were rock hard, pressing outward. Creagon's nipples were hard, too: dime-size brown buttons on the tanned muscled contours of his chest.
Creagon ground his hard belly into his wife's softer one. The upjutting stomach of Creagon's cock was pressed lengthwise along the concealed slice of his wife's pussy mouth.
"You know," Creagon said, after the kiss was finally broken and he had turned his face so that his mouth brushed his wife's right ear, "if we don't get you out of that sexy thing you're wearing pretty soon, it's going to end up getting cock tracks all over it."
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm," Marne voiced sultrily. Whether it was a sounding of agreement with Creagon's reasoning, or just a general all-around voicing of how Marne was feeling at that minute, Marne stepped free. of her husband's relaxed grasp.
As Creagon watched, his huge cock giving spasmodic little jerks and oozings of pre-seminal liquid, Marne unfastened the laces that held her negligee together across its bodice. The loosened strands revealed more and more of Marne's deep cleavage, more and more of Marne's creamy-white breasts.
Finally, with an experienced and sexy shrugging, Marne let the negligee slip off her shoulders, drop down around her body to form an apricot-colored pool around her ankles.
"Jesus, am I really lucky enough to have married what I'm now seeing?" Creagon asked, resisting his immediate impulse to feel his naked flesh against Marne's naked flesh. Creagon momentarily contented himself in just admiring what had been revealed before him.
Marne's flesh was white, not the pale white of many light-complexioned people, but rather a pale, creamy whiteness that seemed to glow from the inside out.
Marne's breasts flowed out from the top of her torso, large melons of flesh that were solid and heavy but unsagging. Each breast was tipped by a large, blood-glutted nipple that looked like a rocket ready to be fired from its circular launch-pad. The breasts cleavage was deep, opening up on a flat stomach that was smooth and hairless all the way down to and beyond Marne's indented navel.