Aston Marlowe - Lisa_s stepmother

He watched his beautiful young wife move gracefully away from the teenagers without a word back at his embittered daughter, immediately smiling and joining a circle of older guests. Christ, how he loved her, but he loved his daughter Lisa too, and how could he take sides? He'd hoped that somehow they'd be able to work it out between them, that gradually Lisa's jealous rancor would mellow, but it hadn't, and he knew that Shirley had bent over backward to reach the girl.

Damn, his Shirley was such a luscious beauty. He'd never forget their wedding night when he'd seen her for the first time all breathtakingly naked. Spellbound, he'd stood there stating at her lying on the bed like a sculptured statue of a goddess come to life, waiting for him to come and take her. His heavy cock had burst into the hardness of an anvil, he remembered, throbbing and hurting with its long denial. He'd been gasping, almost choking as he crawled onto the bed, afraid to touch her for fear she might shatter, or dissolve right before his eyes… And then, he'd kissed her all over, every secret inch of her soft intimate curves and smooth hollows with a hungering reverence that seemed to drain the sap from his very bones! His loins had pulsated with a torment the likes of which he'd never imagined, and though the aching desire to thrust his lust-swollen cock up into her waiting hot belly had been a near-insanity inside him… he knew he couldn't… she was too precious… too delicately gorgeous to violate!

A fixation? That's what Doc Gordon had told him…

"Nothing unusual about it, Frank," he'd said. "Men who revere rather than love a woman often get hung-up this way. But I wouldn't worry too much about it. Give it a little time, fellow… remember, you're fifty like me, and you've suddenly walked back into the Garden of Eden." He'd laughed. "Some of these young apples can really give you a belly ache, and they don't have to be green either…"

There'd been more… nothing of value. He'd gone to a bar and drank himself into a lusty state, then taxied home, leaving his car behind, determined to do what he'd finally come to realize she really wanted him to do, make passionate love to her! God, how excited she'd been, sensuously offering that beautiful white body up to him… and even moving down over him to suck his refusing limp penis into hardness for both of them… but he couldn't let her! He just couldn't let her… she was too beautiful.

Someone said something, addressing him directly and the big man nodded and laughed. He hardly knew what was going on around him. Christ, he was drunk… and that was the best part… not knowing what was going on around you. He wandered off, knowing he was staggering, but making a special effort. Maybe Lisa was right, the party was getting to be a drag, especially for incapable old men. He'd go to his study where he could drink in quiet and think about Shirley. What the hell did he care about these neighborhood scrubs? Nothing… not really, and his daughter's cold kiss still clung to his cheek… Christ, how he hoped Rivers would take the operation of the business off his hands… maybe then he and Shirley… maybe… just maybe…

Shirley had drunk more than usual, but she wasn't sorry. God knows, she really needed its effects to keep her going this horrible night. Frank had just gone off into the house and there wasn't much doubt what his intentions were. Lisa had hurt him deeply, damn her. What she needed was a good face slapping and someone to bring her to her senses. Oh, Shirley didn't care about the way the embittered girl had acted with her; that was unimportant, but with her own father and in front of everyone… My consolation prize…! What a wicked thing to say… and the way she'd acted because Paul had asked her, Shirley, to dance!

Nothing had gone right all evening for the unhappy blonde wife, though she had anticipated most of it. All the same, she'd been careful not to let the guests read it like an open book on her face. Not that she personally cared about appearances, but for Frank and Lisa's sake, yes, she did. And to make matters just a little worse, she had seen the way Nomad was being friendly with some of the neighbor wives, an odd sensation of jealousy gnawing at the base of her belly. Maybe, she'd been a little too free in letting Mr. Rivers' pet out to roam around. Anita Parsons had been making over him every chance she got all evening, and Nomad had responded by rubbing up against her… God… had that red-headed bitch taken advantage of him too?

"They've changed the music to something a little more in keeping with my era, Mrs. Douglas… would you care to try it once?" Vincent Rivers' voice jarred Shirley from her thoughts. She half-turned to see his too-handsome face smiling confidently down at her. Simultaneously, Nomad trotted up, whimpering, and began to brush affectionately against her legs.

"Well, hello, darling… where've you been all evening?" she managed, bending down to pet his great animal-head, her mind racing like an atomic engine. She knew she was blushing when she straightened. "Th-They never forget the hand that feeds them, do they?"

"No… of course not, and I'm sure you've fed him well… taken the best of care of him while I've been following your husband around the plant, Shirley," he said, actually using her given name for the first time. "You're very kind and I appreciate it, but I think I'd like it better if you danced with me."

She could think of no way to refuse her house guest, and after all, it was a little ridiculous, wasn't it? At last surveillance, this was supposed to be a party, and there were some thirty other people milling around… She let him take her hand and draw her possessively inside his arms. He didn't dance… he floated, and that was certainly what she would have expected from Vince Rivers. Not one tiny mistake as she sensed herself seeming to blend with his lean, tall frame to the pleasing rhythm of the music; yet he didn't clutch at her, nor suggestively press against the soft give of her enjoying body as she feared he might. It'd been so long since she'd danced this way… and the liquor, warm in her belly, was excitingly spurring her on.

"Do you do everything as well as you dance, Shirley?" he whispered down into her ear.

She felt herself starching to the question, made a misstep and stumbled. He caught her gracefully, smoothing back into basic steps. She said: "I'm not very accomplished, Mr. Rivers. I suppose you'd just have to call me a… loyal housewife?"

"The backbone of the world they tell me," he replied. "But then, like Kinsey, I like to find things out for myself. He tells a raft of secrets regarding loyal housewives."

Shirley swallowed tightly, but not from his words as much as the more possessive hold he had taken around her. For the first time, she felt the undeniable swell of his hardening male flesh snug against the resilience of her soft belly. She looked up at him, her defensive blue eyes fighting his shifty dark ones. "You've got the wrong wife, Mr. Rivers," she hissed, but not before the sensation of his lengthening hardness stirred whiskey-roused impulses to flutter through her man-denied young loins.

"No… I've just got a girl who's made up her mind to dislike me," he replied, still smiling. "She likes my dog but she despises me."

"Your dog wears his heart on his collar, Mr. Rivers. There's nothing pretentious about him."

"And me? Am I some sort of vampire?"

"Some sort, but I haven't figured that out yet," Shirley replied as the song ended and she backed out of his arms. "Maybe I will if you're here a few more days."

"And maybe you're just trying to protect what the virgin does," Rivers said, wishing immediately that he hadn't. Christ, she was sharp…

Shirley laughed. "Virgin? Let's not make the game too complicated, Mr. Rivers. Virgins are your meat, as the saying goes. No… no… you have bigger stakes in mind than innocent little girls, and I'll remind you that I'm not one of them. Be careful, sir! Be careful! Frank Douglas isn't without people who love him!"