Unfairer Sex Ch. 03

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!"

It was like my orgasm started over again from the beginning. I held Brittany's head in place with one hand, braced myself with the other, and pumped my pulsating cock into her mouth, filling it with my jizz. Every time I heard her swallow, it drove me crazy, and I came harder.

Eventually, though, my stores were exhausted, and Brittany gulped down the last mouthful. We both sat back in our seats and caught our breaths.

"Damn," said Brittany, "That was a lot of cum. Be honest: did you use your influx thingy to get that much?"

"...No, actually. I wasn't thinking about it. Didn't need to, sis- that was all you."

"Mmmm, thank you."

"Well, now that you've had lunch, I could use a bite. Mickey D's okay by you?"

"Sure," said Brittany, "My treat. Least I could do."

~~~

Normally, my order at the golden arches would have been a little much, but apparently my sextracuricculars (see what I did there?) really take their toll after a while.

It was nice, too, to just hang with my sis for a while, without all the sexual tension between us. We felt it, we expressed it, and then we were simply ourselves again. At least, until the next time, if there would be one.

"Mind if I join you?" came a familiar voice.

"Angela! What a surprise!" I said, gesturing for her to sit. She slid in next to Brittany with her tray. Her usual ensemble had been replaced by form-fitting jeans and a tight white t-shirt. Her ample tits were not held up by a bra. Her tits did notneedto be held up by a bra. "What brings you to our neck of the universe?"

"Well, the Organizers wanted me to express their pleasure at the Adjustment you made just now. Amy, I believe her name is."

"Uh, thanks. Brit here gets some of the credit; she tipped me off."

"Still, your decision to accomplish the goal by one remove, that is, to make her horny enough to solve the problem herself, is precisely the thinking we prefer. Keep it up."

"Okay, will do."

"Have you checked your influx since?"

"No... hang on..." I closed my eyes and concentrated. "Holy crap!"

"What is it?" asked Brittany.

"Alot. I could probably fill a swimming pool with my swimmers on this!"

Angela chuckled. "However you would like to use it. To remind you, subtlety is an art we appreciate. The lighter the touch, the bigger the result... the more you receive in payment. And in Amy's case, that means a hefty chunk of influx every time she has an orgasm for the rest of the time you are both alive. She would never have had one without you, so you get paid for all of them. And since you did it with such deftness, the amount you get per is relatively large."

"...And you came by to make sure I made the connection, because this is something you want to see more of."

"Correct." Angela gave a slight smile. That's when it hit me.

"You get a commission, too!" I nearly shouted. "Okay, not sex, but you're not human... so anyway, every time I act more like an Organizer, you get a commission for having been the one to recruit me."

Angela openly grinned. "Well done. I must say, it usually takes years for most people to figure that out."

"Years?" I sat for a second, dumbfounded. I mean, I know I'd made plans for the future with my gifts, but it was only then that it really hit me, that the last day and a half would resemble most of the rest of my life. All the women, all the sex...

"Wait a minute..." I said out loud. "How come I live so close to so many attractive women who just so happen to have issues my gifts could help with? Seems awfully convenient."

Angela looked at me with bemusement. "Ooh, and you were doing so well up until that." She got up and took her tray with her. "Think about it. Did you really think they were called Organizers for nothing?"

She walked away, and not for the first time, I found myself wishing she was human, so I could bend her over, pull down those jeans, grab her by the ass, and plunge myself into what I knew would be a hot, pink pussy, pounding away until she could only scream my na-

"Hello? Blake?"

I shook my head.

"What?"

"You were gone for a minute there."

"Sorry."

"Time to go home, I think."

"Yeah. Besides, mentioning the swimming pool and the women in my dreams, I think I know what I want to do this evening..."

~~~

Home was kind of boring after that. When Mom and Dad came home, we had dinner, and talked like a normal family. After the weirdness of the last couple of days, it was nice.

When dinner was over, my parents settled in to watching some Netflix in the den. Brittany holed up in her room. I told Mom and Dad I was going for a nice long walk. They nodded, then snuggled tighter on the couch.

I walked slowly, churning plans in my head. I wasn't even heading directly to the house I was after. Eventually, though, I had a sufficient outline and went to the door.

On the third knock, she answered.

"Mr. Turner, what a surprise!" exclaimed Mrs. Fitzgerald. "What brings you by?"

I'd practiced this part.

"Well, ma'am, I've been told I could use some more volunteer work to spice up my résumé. I was walking by, thinking about, and saw you were home. So I thought to myself there's no good reason why not, and decided to ask. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Part of the plan included inducing minor reactions to the words "spice up" and the question of whether there was something I could do for her. I also didn't stop myself from stealing glances at her chest. If she was at all interested, I'd get an invite.

"Come in," she said. "I haven't had the pool cleaned properly all summer."

It was also to my fortune (or possibly it was Organized this way) that the day this happened was a scorcher, not a cloud in the sky. I got there around six o'clockish because my family eats early.

We got to the backyard, and I saw what she meant. It wasn't manky, but there were still a few leaves, some detritus at the bottom, stuff like that going on.

"Doing it properly requires upper body strength I don't have," Mrs. Fitzgerald explained. She then walked me through what needed to be done specifically. It helped that none of it seemed too difficult, it's just that as she said, it took more strength than she had.

"That seems to be it," she concluded, "I'll go inside and let you at it, then."

Given what I was picking up off of her, she was probably going inside to spy on me so that she could masturbate while watching me and not get caught doing it.

"Oh, please, no," I objected, "It would feel weird, me being in your backyard by myself. Besides, if I forget something, I can ask or you can point it out. It's too hard to remember it all."

I didn't have to do a thing when I said "hard." Her mind went there all by itself.

"In any case," Mrs. Fitzgerald countered, "I'd like to change. The time you'll be done, Blake, the temperature will be just perfect for a dip."

She didn't wait for me to respond- she just turned and went inside. I swear, she swayed her hips as she went.

I got to work. It seemed the thing to do. The first bit was scraping up bits that had gotten stuck to the sides and bottom of the pool. The filters could handle it from there.

I'd barely gotten the equipment set up when she came back out. In a red bikini. I damn near dropped my tools.

Mrs. Fitzgerald was forty, having had her two boys young, but her body was easily that of a thirty-year-old. The sheer sarong was just for show, I think. Her long brown hair fell loosely, and I saw a tan with no hint of tan lines, suggesting that she was often naked in this backyard.

Her husband died when the boys were little, so she'd been a single mom for over a decade. But now they were eighteen and nineteen, like Brittany and I, and away somewhere for the summer before college in the fall. So what's a sexy momma gonna do with all her newfound spare time? Why, the pool boy, if all went according to plan.

After composing myself and getting back to work, I would still steal glances at her from time to time. Usually it was under the guise of chatting her up, which meant looking in her direction was par for the course. But I didn't try too hard to hide that I was looking. And I certainly didn't try to hide my boner.

At first, she just lay down in a deck chair, giving me a fantastic view of her killer legs. After a while, she flipped over, and her ass was in full view. Better still, she couldn't see me leering. But judging by what I felt from her, she didn't need to see it. Best of all, it wasn't one of those ass-covering triangle bikinis, either. God bless Victoria and her desire not to keep Secrets anymore.

I may have taken off my shirt. You know, to keep it from getting all sweaty. Can't be too careful. No ulterior motive at all.

When the bulk of the work was done, I moved on to skimming the top, which I left for last so I could stand near her and talk. I kept it light, kept it borderline-but-not-overtly flirty. We laughed, she smiled, and I even saw her legs get restless the way that women's do when they want to touch themselves but aren't. I have to say, the long, drawn-out seduction was kinda fun. And Mrs. Fitzgerald, who insisted I start calling her Christine, was eating up the attention. But still there was something in her way.

Ah. That must be why I was here and not just some regular schmo. I kept an ear and an inner eye out for an opening. In the meantime, I was done.

"Mind if I just chill and relax here instead of going straight home?" I asked, knowing full well the answer.

"Sure," said Christine, "I always like to show people their handiwork. You can watch me enjoy my nice, clean pool."

Boy, was I lucky that nothing more than some basic cleaning needed doing. She apparently kept up on the rest herself. Speaking of "keeping up," she could easily kick my ass in a hundred-meter freestyle. I discover almost instantly why the pool was Olympic-length. Not width, of course- my neighborhood wasn'tthatupscale. I found out later she was a competitive swimmer before having children. Hence the knowledge of pool cleaning.

After the first couple of laps, she slowed down a bit, and I felt her relax. The more she swam, the more energized she got, and yes, that includes exactly what you'd expect. I was pretty much done holding back. I didn't stare anymore- I gawked. My boner was threatening to peek above my waistband. That last part had some help from my influx, I'll admit. I didn't want to go more than a little wider, though- I didn't want to hurt her.

So that's where I was when she exited the water: basking in the setting sun, hard-on getting harder, and Christine climbs up, water dripping from every curve.So why the Hell are you single?I thought. Or meant to.

"What was that?" she asked as she sat down in the deck chair next to mine.

"I just... I can't imagine why you wouldn't have more volunteers to help... with your pool," I hazarded.

"Blake, we're both adults- I think we can stop pretending this is about the pool," Christine stated.

"Okay, sorry," I replied. Crud. Now it was time to improvise. Or... maybe... play it straight.

"Why in the world are you so lonely?" I asked, and to my surprise, I meant it. It wasn't just a ploy. "I've been here one evening, and I feel like I've known you for years."

"That feeling of freshness and newness wears off quick, doesn't it?" she said, looking away.

"No, I meant..." I reached out and cradled her face in one hand. Her sad brown eyes looked back. "I meant you are a vibrant person. Great to spend time with."

"Time, huh?"

"Is this about your age?"

"Of course it is! Nobody wants a forty-year-old mother of two. My time is up, I should just-"

With my free hand, I took one of hers and placed it directly onto my crotch.

"That's not nobody," I intoned. "And let me tell you, with your body, your time is whenever you want it to be. Anyone that says different is a fool, and missing out in a bad way."

"Missing out?" Her mind was playing catch-up, because her body had already decided. She was already breathing hard, and her nipples poked through her wet bikini top quite a ways.

"On you."

"Whenever I want?" she asked.

"Even right now," I replied, flexing my cock under her hand for emphasis.

"Why, Blake Turner," she said coyly, "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"You tell me." And I kissed her.

It took only a few hesitant seconds before she returned my kiss with equal fervor. As we wrestled our tongues, I felt her libido free itself on the inside, and her body get really hyped up on the outside. She even groaned, a deep, throaty purr of satisfaction. The final indication of victory came when she started rubbing my jeans.

"It's been a while," Christine whispered, her breath hot in my ear. "I bet I'mreallytight."

She was rewarded with a groan from me.

"Lay back," she instructed. I did. "Take off your jeans. And your boxers."

"Yes, ma'am." Again, I did. Christine climbed over me, one hand wrapping itself around my cock. She glided her ample tits across my chest while stroking me. Every time she got near enough, we kissed again. A couple of times, she rose high enough that I planted my lips in her cleavage, but only for a moment or two. Such a tease. The chair back was high enough She didn't have to bend far to give me a taste, but low enough I could relax. Perfection.

Christine sat on my knees for a minute, jerking me with one hand, and guiding the wet tendrils of her hair back with the other. Switching hands, she brought her precum-covered fingers to her lips and began to lick them off, demonstrating her oral skills.

"Mmm, delicious," she commented.

"More where that came from," I replied.

"Indeed."

Christine got up and turned around. She then walked back until her ass was inches from my face. My hands went immediately to her hips, while hers went back to my cock. Then I got a lesson in age-differential sex. A woman my age is naturally flexible, yes, but nothing compares to a committed stretching regimen. Over time, it will always yield better results.

Her legs still perfectly straight, Christine bent over, and started sucking me, one hand still jacking me where her mouth couldn't reach.

My eyes rolled back in my head. My hands gripped her hips tightly, until I got control of my senses again. When I did, the first thing to go was going to be the panties. The sarong had come off long before she even got in the water, so two tugs of the ties on either side, and her pussy was mine for the tasting.

I felt Christine tense a little with uncertainty. Would I like it? What if this or that? Her doubts didn't really matter. I could have adjusted her to distract her, but again, I opted for the direct approach, and dove in with my whole face.

She was creamier than the girls I'd tasted, with a sweetness I hadn't expected. I got a lot hungrier very quickly.

That was out rhythm for a while. She jerked me with one hand, held my balls with the other, and bobbed on my cock. I licked and sucked and nibbled, all while my hands never left their places on her damn fine ass. I was planning on holding it all in for a grand finale, but her skills merited a reward, and let go.

"Oh god, Christine," I gasped, "You're gonna make me cum so hard!"

Christine jerked me faster, and her lips sealed my cock in so I couldn't have pulled out if I wanted to. I tongued her clit as much as my rapidly-melting brain would allow, then cut loose.

If I'd been a normal guy, she'd have drained me right then and there. I could feel every stream of jizz shoot into her mouth, and she kept jerking me until she had every last drop she could get. Then, just for good measure, she licked and sucked my cock gently, causing me to jerk and moan. Damn, this woman was good.

Then she stood up and faced me, all smiles. She was hot and gorgeous before. Now she was beautiful. "Mmm, tasty," she commented, "I was hoping for a good fuck, though. Maybe next time."

I shuddered when she said "fuck." I told you before, I have a thing for dirty talk.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said.

"Oh, honey, you can't be serious. Nobody can go again that soon after cumming that hard."

"Tell that to him," I said, gesturing. I'd used a bit of influx to reset my cock, and tweak up the size again a little. I also made it as hard as I could, which meant every vein throbbed visibly.

"You, uh, you sure you won't be too sensitive?"

"I would like nothing more than to fuck you... Mrs. Fitzgerald."

"Oh, naughty boy wants to have a go with the neighborhood MILF, is that it?"

"It does include the phrase, 'I'd like to fuck,' Christine."

That made her smile. She leaned over me again, and once again, whispered in my ear.

"For now, Blake, you can call me Mrs. Fitzgerald."

Hotter words she had never spoken.

"I want you to fuck me, Mrs. Fitzgerald."

Using one hand to aim me, she positioned herself over my cock, and eased herself down.

"Ooh, that's a tight fit," she said.

"You don't have to tell me," I replied. "Take your time, though. This feelsamazing."

I closed my eyes and focused. Every time I felt her get distracted about her tightness, I tweaked her up a little, to remind her it was all worth it.

Soon, though, after a few tries, she started to slide up and down on my cock, which felt incredible. She wasnotexaggerating her tightness. If I hadn't cum before, that would have done it. Thank goodness, because I really wanted this to last.

She closed her eyes and focused on her pleasure, while I opened mine and decided to have what I'd wanted since she opened the door. I pulled two more strings, and she was naked, her juicy tits in my face, followed by one in my mouth, then the other.

"Ooh, yes!" she exclaimed. "I love my tits played with."

It did not need to be said twice. She rode my cock, and I did everything I could think of to her glorious melons. They were firm but yielding, soft, warm, and those nipples... I swear, she got even tighter every time I flicked one with my tongue.

Then I slowly ran the tip of my tongue up the line of her cleavage, up her neck until I couldn't reach. She bent down to kiss me, and rode me faster. Feeling her as I did, I knew she was close.

"I want to watch you cum on my cock, you make me so hard," I said. "...Mrs. Fitzgerald."

Her pussy convulsed up and down the length of my cock inside her, as she continued to ride me through her climax. She held me close to her chest, and I obliged her with more titty play.

Finally, she pulled back, and looked me in the eyes.

"Now I've fucked you," she said. "What's next?"

"Now I want to fuck the living daylights out of you, Christine," I replied pointedly, sitting up. She got up, obviously excited. I guided her to the table, which she placed her hands on, presenting her luscious ass to me. I caressed her supple flesh, gratified by the gasps when I grazed her pussy. When I'd had my fill, I lifted one of her legs onto a chair, spreading her just a bit.

"Fuck me," she whispered, pleading. "Hard."

The chair also lifted her pussy to just the right height, and I could aim easily. I slid in slowly, eliciting moans from her talented mouth.

Now it was my turn to play. I grabbed her by the hips, and just slid back and forth an agonizing deliberation. Christine started pouting, asking me to fuck her. Then it turned to pleading. Then begging. It was sexy as Hell.

At the same time, I worked up to being able to drive my full, extended length into her. She hadn't realized yet. I also made myself a little wider again. Just a little. Enough that she was going to get the fuck of a lifetime and not realize precisely why.

With no warning, I gave one fierce pound into Christine, making her gasp.

"Yes!"

Then I let her have it. All of it. My own hips didn't have the range to fuck her tip to balls, so I pulled her onto me and pushed her away, so that she felt every inch, every thrust. We felt the contact of our bodies when I was all the way inside, heard the smacking of my balls.