J. Russell - Mother_s ass

"Oh, no!" she cried aloud. The apron was a dainty, decorative bit of uselessness, and the notion of resorting to it abruptly drew on a streak of perverse humor. She giggled and tied the belt ribbon on. Heart-shaped, the lower panel had a narrow band of red trim and a wider lace ruffle. She raised the upper panel and buttoned its straps behind her neck. It was a second, smaller heart, each lobe lying against the underside of one of her boobs with its strap wide of her nipple. She had to giggle again.

"Myyy God!" Vanessa's tone was a mixture of astonishment and awe. "Helen!"

Helen whirled. "Oh, dear God, Van! You scared me out of ten years' growth! I was afraid Barry was with you!"

"He's in with Art. But what are you doing dressed like that?"

"Art didn't change the other night, Van. You didn't really expect him to be that shocked, did you?"

Vanessa appeared to tense. "Well…"

"I wouldn't have expected it, either, except I was high on screwdrivers. Anyhow, doing what I did convinced me how important he is to me." She paused and spread her hands, palms forward. "So I changed, instead."

"I can't believe it! Honey, you're not going out there in front of Barry like that, are you?"

"Why not? It didn't bother you the other night!"

"Damn it, that was night time! He's still got calls to make."

"Then how come he's over here in the middle of the day?"

Vanessa sniffed. "I didn't know that was a crime."

"I didn't say it was. But neither one of you knew Art was home today."

"No. We didn't. Why is he, anyway?" Vanessa's glance fell to Helen's scanty costume and the corners of her mouth crinkled. "On second thought, that's a foolish question."

"Art said you probably meant to take up where you left off the other night," suggested Helen. She was conscious of a twinge of guilt at the implication that Art had meant his little jest.

"You mean…?" Van gasped. "For God's sake! Are you two paranoid?"

"He didn't mean it. I wondered, though, after he said it."

"Well! We were worried, if you want to know. We realized that was a rough experience for you. Barry thought you might like to go out to lunch with us." She shook her head. "Looks like that's the last thing you'd want to do."

"I was getting ready to fix something to eat here. Why don't you and Barry eat with us?"

"With you dressed like that, Barry would only be thinking of eating one thing. God, Helen! Turn around. Let me see how you look from behind."

Helen turned, resentful of Vanessa's reaction. She heard Vanessa's low whistle.

"Those panties are a louder invitation than the ones Olga wears!" exclaimed the blonde. She smiled suddenly. "I wouldn't have guessed you'd own anything like that."

"Art sent off for them. I couldn't throw them out, but they didn't ever come out of the drawer."

"He sent off? Where?"

Helen laughed. "You want a pair? They're risky, Van." Her irritation evaporated. After all, she has a right to be off balance, she thought. How was she to know I was going to change? She didn't even know about the other me. "Art might remember, though, if you're not scared of what might happen."

Vanessa responded to the new note in Helen's voice. "Honey, I said the other night you had guts. I just didn't know how much! Would you honestly let Barry see you in those in the middle of the day?"

Helen unfastened the apron and drew it aside with a delicious thrill of wickedness at Vanessa's gasp.

"Oh, God!" Vanessa groaned. "They're hotter than I thought. They don't hide anything! You wouldn't!"

"Yes I would." Helen's stomach fluttered. Vanessa wasn't going to permit that, but the mere challenge was frightening.

Vanessa let her breath out slowly. "Oh, my! Honey, come on. I don't care if he does miss those calls. A guy doesn't get a chance to see that kind of underwear on a body like yours that often. He'd never forgive me if I cheated him out of it!"

"Oh, no! You don't really want me to!"

"No! Hell no! But Barry would! Come on!"

"But I haven't got lunch yet!"

"We can come back and fix it. Come on."

Vanessa grabbed Helen's hand and tugged. Helen hung back, and she thought for a moment Vanessa would give up. Then she felt her strength fade and the eager blonde dragged her from the room.

"Barry? Hey, Barry!" called Vanessa.

Helen freed herself by a desperate wrench. "I'll go! For God's sake, don't drag me!"

Barry and Art looked up as the two women entered the living room. Helen flushed under Barry's startled stare.

He whistled. "Jesus, Helen! What's with her, Art?"

Art shrugged. "Look for yourself. She sure as hell can't be hiding much."

"Yeah, man!" Barry leered at Helen. "Come closer, my child," he said with a croak.

Although his voice implied humor, Helen saw something else in his face. The sudden hunger she saw drew her like a magnet, and she glided to him. He extended his arm to lay his hand on her hip, the contact shocking her like an electric probe. He placed his other hand on her waist and drew her to him. She emerged from her trance-like state long enough to throw a mute appeal at her husband, then let herself sink onto Barry's lap. He turned her as she lowered herself, and she leaned back against him, her head next to his cheek.

"Goddamn it, baby!" he said. "You'd make a guy lose his head with a show like that!" His fingertips brushed her nipples. "I don't see how I'm going to be in any shape to work this afternoon. When did you start wearing this kind of stuff around the house?"

"You talk a lot," she murmured, her flesh quivering at the continued fondling of her tits.

"I guess." He laughed and began to rub her bare belly. "But you've been so damn modest all the time we've known you, I thought you were a prude. And then night before last and today… Shit! Is it a wonder I talk?"

She moaned softly and squired. "I don't know. Art didn't."

Barry winced and squeezed her tit. "Art's a man of action, pet. Or else he's got a one-track mind. I don't know which. Me, I like the way conversation lubricates a situation."

It isn't talk that's getting me lubricated! thought Helen. God, my cunt's wet!

Barry felt the protruding strands of her pussy hair and the taut netting of her panties. "Tell Van where these came from, baby. She's got to have some."

"They came from Art, and I told her."

"Like hell! I mean, where he got them! She'd better not get any from him!"

"Barry! You sound jealous!"

"I don't care what you call it. She's had hot pants for that guy of yours as long as I did for you! If she wants him to lay her once in a while, that's fine with me. But I'll be damned if he's going to buy these things for her!" He slid his hand between her thighs.

Helen clamped her legs together and Barry used both hands to pry them apart. He grabbed her twat and his finger slipped through the panty opening. He gasped.

"Christ! What next! A cock-gate!"

Barry maneuvered her on his lap until he could unzip his pants and let his cock surge through his fly.

"Oh, dear!" she whispered. "Oh, dear!" She tightened her butt-cheeks and thrust her legs out, raising her pussy for him.

He parted her cuntlips and dragged his fingers over the mouth of her snatch. Her hips twisted.

"Barry, darling," she whispered. "Put your cock in, please! I want him so!"

"Shit, Helen! I've got to work this afternoon!"

"With a hard-on?"

He laughed. "You win. And that's how it would be. Probably will anyhow, every time I think of you in these fuck-pants!" He grasped her by the waist and raised her, lowering her onto his cock.

She bent forward to rest her hands on his thighs, settling onto the hard prick. A gust of contentment swept her as she felt her cunt being filled. "Ahhh! Barry, Barry!"

He slid his hands onto her hips, grasping the smooth bulges firmly and bouncing her. The edge of the couch pressed her calves and her boobs leaped in their half-cup supports. She clenched her teeth and groaned shakily.