Mob Movies

Chapter 13 On Our Own

     “What’s all this,” I asked Corrine after she dumped a bag of adult products on our bed?

      “I bought it this afternoon.  We need something to get our sex lives back on track,” said Corrine ripping open a blister pack containing one of those vibrating dildos that included a clitoral stimulator and a little bump on the side for stimulating her G-spot.  The packaging claimed to use space age materials to achieve levels of pleasure previously unachievable.  The days of simple latex had passed.

     The something Corrine referred to was our substitute for the sex we had with Morgan and company.  It had been ten months since his death.  Every day I expected the police to show up and arrest us.  The wait was nerve racking and took its toll on our sex life.

    But the law had not shown up to take us to jail after a perp walk for the nightly news.  The murder of Quarles and Morgan had died in the press after a couple of days.  The police hadn’t arrested anyone and had even announced they had no suspects.  The public is not very demanding when the victims are known criminals. 

    I’d buried myself in my work rationalizing we would need huge sums for legal fees when we were arrested.  As a result of shrewd marketing, Meade Media had won a major contract producing public service announcements.  It was quite profitable and the company was making rapid progress paying off the debt my gambling had created.

     Things were looking up in another direction, too.  A month ago, Scott Reynolds called to say he was ninety nine percent sure, we wouldn’t be charged.  “No one has found the discs and believe me, if our publicity loving District Attorney had them, you would be in jail and he would be on television crowing about what a fantastic job he was doing.”

      “Has Simon had any luck finding them,” I asked?  Simons Discreet Inquiries was the detective firm Scott hired to find Al Quarles copies of the disc before the police.

      “No, he thinks Al Quarles may have destroyed them since they implicated him.  But Simon’s going to keep looking.”

      “Are you going to destroy the discs I gave you,” I asked?  The evidence I handed over to Scott was never far from my mind.

      “Yes, eventually, when the stature of limitations has been reached,” said Scott.  “If I were you, I’d take Corrine to a nice restaurant to celebrate then screw her brains out.  She’s the kind of woman who needs it regularly.”

      After I hung up, I gave some thought to his last remark.  It struck me as terribly indiscreet for someone who guarded his words as carefully as Scott.  Was mentioning Corrine’s need for regular sex just a careless observation from watching her perform on video or was it a more personal assessment?  Or stated more directly, had Scott been screwing my wife? 

     I told myself to quit being a jealous asshole as I walked over to give Corrine the good news.  We hugged each other and broke into tears.  Facing the prospect of prison and loosing everything we worked for had not been easy.  As Scott suggested, we celebrated at Indianapolis’s best restaurant then we went dancing.  Watching my beautiful wife sway her hips to the rumba revived my flagging sexual libido.  Back home, we’d had sex or the first time in months and it didn’t consist of jerking off together while watching porn.

     A week later Corrine showed up with her shopping bag of goodies.  She’d left work early saying she had a tennis lesson and some errands to run.  When I got home, she followed me to our bedroom.

      “I also bought some hardcore interracial videos at the adult store.  Let’s watch one together,” said Corrine holding up a handful of DVDs.

     Corrine bought five DVD’s featuring white women having sexual intercourse with black men.  Black Dicks In White Chicks No. 5 was my personal favorite because one of the girls in the video resembled Corrine.  And the way she energetically handled three black cocks at once added to the similarity.

     “And I thought you might like this,” said Corrine holding up an odd shaped thick black dildo that had a narrow base and even stranger in my view, a rubber tube connected to a squeeze bulb.  It resembled the device my doctor used to take my blood pressure.

     “What is it,” I asked?

     Corrine read the label on the packaging, “Inflatable anal stimulator, it’s a butt plug that expands after you insert it.”  She squeezed the bulb causing the dildo to grow.  “Want to give it a try?”

      Up to this point in our marriage, sex toys had been Corrine’s province.  Not that she had a large assortment.  The top drawer of the table on her side of the bed contained three different sized vibrating dildos she had when we got married.

     Sometimes when we were lying together, masturbating she would take one out and use it.  Mostly, she used her fingers and a bottle of lubricating jelly with a warming agent.  She never seemed to have any trouble reaching the Big O.

      However, based on what was strewn over our bed, she’d made a quantum leap in her sex toy inventory.  One thing I did notice was the color, black.  

     I started to say something about her choice of hue.  But since I had put her through hell with my gambling I kept quiet.  “Sure,” I said reaching for the butt plug and a plastic bottle of lubricant.

     “No, I’ll do it.  I’m in the mood to take care of my man tonight,” she said before kissing me with maximum tongue.  “Get undressed,” she said when the kiss ended.

     Thirty seconds later I took a position in the center of the bed on my back. Corrine had stripped off her shorts and top.  I noted she was not wearing any underwear, which was a bit unusual.

     “Lift your hips,” she said grabbing two pillows to slide them under me.  “Raise your legs and grab your big toes.”

     I lay there like a good boy while Corrine first kissed and licked my anus then covered it with lubricant.  Next, she carefully inserted her finger in my brown eye causing me to moan with pleasure. 

     “You like,” asked Corrine after I moaned at the intrusion.

     “I like,” I said noting that Corrine had kissed and licked my rosebud on only two previous occasions both of which involved the consumption of hard alcohol.   She refused my request for analingus on other occasions.  Obviously, her experience as a fluffer had lead to a new outlook.  Jerome’s crew was into having their butt eaten and Corrine obliged.

      She positioned the pointed end of the plug at the center of my bulls eye and gave it a little push.  It felt huge.  “Relax, take a deep breath,” she said stroking my cock when she felt me tense up. 

     My ass was virgin territory and unused to intruders.  I almost panicked when she gave another push and I felt my rectum spasm.  “Take it out. It hurts.”

     “Relax, give it a second, its nowhere near the size of Kelso’s cock,” said Corrine reminding me of the many times she had been anally penetrated by an oversized black dick.  She gave the butt plug a little push as she gave me a spank on my bottom.  The sting caused me to think elsewhere and the plug slipped inside me.  A couple of deep breaths and the muscle spasm subsided along with the associated pain.

     “All right,” I said.  “I’m good.”

     “Just good,” asked Corrine working her hand up and down my well-lubricated shaft while giving the black bulb a number of squeezes.  I heard a hiss of air and felt a tightening in my bottom.

     “Yeah, it feels good, damn good,” I admitted reacting to the pressure on my prostate.

     Corrine climbed off the bed, wiped her hands on a towel, then selected one of the discs and loaded it into the player.  “I got five since they offer a free one if you bought four.”

      The inflatable anal stimulator was working as advertised.  I managed to reach the bulb and give it several more squeezes.  I lowered my legs as the DVD began to play those ridiculous advertisements for eight hundred numbers.  “Is this a cream pie video’s?”

      “No, I asked Les if he had any DVDs of husbands eating their wife’s pussy after black men had dumped a load in it.  He checked his computer but he couldn’t find anything.  He said all the felching was either gay male sex or women going down on each other after taking a load,” said Corrine climbing back on the bed between my legs.

     “Felching, what’s that,” I asked?  The idea of Corrine’s vocabulary of perverted acts exceeding mine seemed wrong somehow.

     “According to Wikipedia, the most common meaning is sucking semen out of the rectum.  We’ve seen girls felch in porn videos and I felched the women we filmed.  It started out as a gay term.  After the top man drops his load in the bottom man’s butt, he sucks it out and shares it.”

     “Felching, top man, bottom man, you seem to be expanding your vocabulary,” I said.

     “A good wife is knowledgeable regarding sexual practices,” said Corrine ending that part of the conversation by slowly stroking my cock for a few seconds then taking it in her mouth as she squeezed the bulb.

     Left unsaid was the fact that I was a felcher.  On numerous post filming acts of sexual intercourse, I had formed my lips on Corrine’s hard fucked butthole and extracted a semen cocktail deposited by Jerome and crew.  Corrine’s newfound knowledge and acquaintances had me beyond curious.

      “Who’s Les,” I asked pursuing further information about my wife’s visits to the adult store?  Pre Morgan, she would never have gone into such an establishment.

      “Manager and owner,” said Corrine taking a break from working my cockhead with her tongue while her fingers pressed into the area underneath my balls.  Corrine had always performed more than adequately in the oral department but her experience as a fluffer had moved her up several notches.

      “What’s the store like,” I asked quickly reaching a full erection?

      “Les runs a good operation.  It’s well merchandised and clean. It seems busy.  I had to wait in line to check out,” said Corrine.

      “Mostly male customers,” I asked?

      “Yes, but plenty of females, I’d guess sixty forty male to female ratio, maybe seventy thirty, some couples, too,” said Corrine.  “I’ll ask Les next time I’m there if he’s ever done a customer profile.”

      I knew the answer to the next question but I pretended I didn’t.  “Is there a video arcade?”  It was a stupid question since the sign out front advertised the presence of peep booths.

     “Yes, in the back. I thought you said you’d been there a couple of times,” said Corrine.

     “I did go there twice but that was before we were married.   I just wasn’t sure the arcade was still there.”  Given all that had happened since my visits, it seemed a lifetime ago.

     “Oh, it’s still there,” said Corrine a lilt to her voice.  One hand was down at her crotch working the little man in the boat as she blew me. 

     I decided to pop the sixty-four dollar question.  “Did you go in the arcade?”

     Corrine rose up on one elbow to look at me.  Her hand was fisting my cock as she spoke.  “Would you get mad if I did?  But first, tell me.  Did you go in the arcade on your two visits?”

     The answer was yes.  I’d jacked off watching videos.  “Probably, I can’t remember,” I answered.  Why was I being so fucking coy?

      “Bullshit, Yes or No,” asked Corrine passing her tongue along from the base of my penis to the tip then engulfing the shaft and taking it down to where her lips pressed into my pubic hair?  My cockhead was pushing into her throat.  Her tongue was massaging the bottom of my shaft.  The woman had talent.

      “Yes, I went in,” I answered.

      “Did you use the gloryhole?”

      “So you know about gloryholes,” I asked?  Corrine’s vocabulary had certainly grown.

      “Yes, Sandy explained them to me.  She said female customers and couples visit the arcade occasionally.  You haven’t answered my question,” said Corrine continuing her work on my rock hard pulsating dick.  The topic of conversation along with my wife’s talented mouth had me ready to explode. 

      I asked, “Sandy, now who is Sandy?”

      “Sandy is Sandra and she is Les’ significant other, short little brunette covered in tattoos,” said Corrine before repeating her question.  “Did you take advantage of the gloryhole?”

      “No, the place was practically empty when I was there.  Nobody was in the other booths.” I was telling the truth.  One reason I had only gone twice was the place was dead and smelled of piss and semen.

      “Would you have if you had the opportunity,” asked Corrine obviously enjoying sucking my cock while probing my psyche?  Corrine was a psychology minor in college with a major in childhood education.

      I gave another honest answer.  “Probably not, like I said before.  Pre Morgan I was straight.  However, hypothetically if I’d had a few drinks and was horny as hell and a penis came through the gloryhole, I don’t know what I would have done.  The things I did with Morgan showed me I’m not quite who I thought I was.”

     Left unsaid was what I would have done if a guy in the next booth had invited me to send my dick his way.  I probably would have done that without too much hesitation.

      “Given the right circumstances, who knows what any of us might do,” said Corrine as she pumped the bulb twice.

     The anal inflator had reached the point it felt like a log in my butt. I loved the way it was pressing against my prostate.

      “So, did you go in a booth,” I asked attempting to delay my orgasm through conversation?

      “Yes, but only on my last visit,” said Corrine.

      “I’d think the place would be scary for a woman,” I said honestly.  Hell, I thought the dark hallway with its two rows of peep booths was creepy when I was there. I wasn’t sure the door to my booth would lock.  And in those days, I would have freaked out if someone had walked in with a hard on expecting me to suck it.

      “Les promised to keep an eye out for me on the security camera,” said Corrine.  “Sandy and Les bought the place a year ago.  She says they’ve made a lot of improvements.”

      I made a suggestion.  “You should have asked Sandy to go with you for a little girl on girl action.”

      “I didn’t think of that but maybe next time,” said Corrine before allowing a mouthful of warm drool to fall slowly on my cock.  It landed right on the tip then spread down over the shaft.

      I tried to picture Corrine in a booth kneeling on the jism stained linoleum jerking off the cock on the left while she sucked off the one on the right.  Rather than cut to the chase, I decided to hang back a little.  “What did you watch?”

      It was a moment before Corrine could answer.  Her lips were pressed against my pubic hair.  My dick head was being squeezed into her throat opening while her tongue was licking the underside of my shaft, its tip flicking my scrotum.  Under the circumstances, I waited patiently for an answer.

     “I kept pushing the button to change the DVD.  There were over a hundred different selections, even fetish films with S&M or women peeing on guys.  Afterwards, Les showed me the equipment room.  It was quite impressive.”

      I wasn’t ready to change the subject.  “So what did you watch mostly?”

      “There was an interesting one where a pretty blonde girl was being gangbanged by a group of blacks and Latinos,” said Corrine.  “And there was a bisexual one with two males and a female.  One of the guys was black so I found it erotic when the white guy sucked the black man’s cock while the girl used a dildo,” said Corrine.

      “That does sound exotic,” I said struggling not to blow my load. 

      “There was a very interesting film with a transsexual who was drop dead gorgeous with a terrific figure and a ten-inch cock.   She was doing two men.”

      “He was doing two men,” I corrected.

      “If you saw him at the mall, you would never think he was a man,” aid Corrine.

      I kept trying to distract myself in order to delay my orgasm but the topics under discussion weren’t helpful.  “Did you masturbate?”

     “Of course, silly, isn’t that what those booths are for?  There’s even a box of tissues to wipe up the jism,” said Corrine gently squeezing my nuts with one hand.

      Corrine wore pants most of the time.  On our date nights, she would wear a dress or a skirt and blouse if we were going to a nice restaurant.  “Were you wearing a skirt?” I asked?

      Her answer was cock hardening.  “A tennis skirt, I went there right after my lesson.  When I got in the booth, I slipped my panty off and put it in my purse.  I forgot to put it back on after I finished.”

     My sexy wife had been shopping in an adult store wearing a tennis skirt and no panty.  I pictured her bending over to pick something up. I was surprised Les or someone didn’t rape her.  On the other hand, maybe they didn’t have to.

     “What did you do then,” I asked teetering on the verge of blowing my load down her throat?

      “I put a ten dollar bill in the machine then put one foot on the trashcan and the other beside the screen and jerked myself off.”

      “And the gloryholes,” I asked?

      “Oh yeah, I jerked him off.  He wanted me to suck it. They both did.  But I decided on my first visit to stick with hand jobs.”

      “How many hand jobs did you do”

      “Three, then my arm got tired and I had to get home and change,” said Corrine before making a strong and successful effort to bring me to climax.

     I orgasmed so hard my scrotum collapsed into a tight hard ball the size of a walnut.  I’m not sure there was a sperm left on board when she emptied my balls.  I heard the hiss of air escaping from the butt plug and relaxed as it deflated.  Corrine pulled it out of my ass.  I lay there a while with my eyes closed while she got off the bed and opened several packages.

     “My turn,” said Corrine lying down beside me.  She handed me two large dildos and a tube of lubricant.  She deftly raised her hips and slipped two pillows underneath her butt.

     “Is that story true,” I asked looking up from my position between her legs? 

     “Of course, put your tongue in my pussy to see how wet it is,” said Corrine raising her legs then pulling them back to where her ankles were interlocked behind her neck.

     Corrine is super flexible.  She attributes that to yoga.  “That never ceases to amaze me,” I said spreading her fluid coated labia with my thumbs.  There was a thin trickle of a clear liquid oozing out her vagina toward her sphincter.

     “Come to yoga with me.  With practice you could do it,” said Corrine.

     Is there anything on the planet more irresistible than a warm wet pussy just begging to be eaten?  “I’m going to pretend you did,” I said attacking her anus with my mouth. 

     “Did what,” asked Corrine?

     “Went back in the video arcade and let guys fuck you,” I said before forcing my tongue past the ring of muscle guarding her rectum.  Was she just being a tease or had working as a fluffer turned her into the kind of slut who frequented adult video arcades?

     “I didn’t but we can pretend,” said Corrine giggling like a schoolgirl at my mental discomfort.