Slow Poke

It seems that I spent the first sixteen years of my life waiting for my mother, and the last eight waiting for my wife Joyce. Even though I'm only thirty, in 2016 I can sing every word of the old (1951) Pee Wee King song "Slow Poke," the most salient part of which is:

"Time means nothing to you, I wait and then

Late again, eight o'clock, nine o'clock, quarter to ten."

How does a thirty year old know that song you ask? Simple! My father used to sign it when he, my sister, and I waited endlessly for my mother. At first I hated the song, but it grew on me because it was my only defense against my mother's tardiness - which I never stopped hating.

If I hated waiting for my mother, why, you might ask, did I end up marrying Joyce, someone with the same total lack of concern for punctuality? The answer to that question is also simple, although it contains three parts. 1) She wasn't like that when we first met, or even when we were first married. 2) I fell in love with her. 3) She often apologizes for her tardiness by giving me out-of-this-world blow jobs.

Despite my love for Joyce I have become less tolerant of her tardiness, and more concerned with something that she has adopted the last few years - religious zealotry. While I'm not a religious guy I am moral and believe in the Golden Rule as the basic human imperative in dealing with other people.

*****************

I was a little past my comfort zone one particular Saturday night because we were in a hotel where we were going to meet for dinner a clergyman (and his wife) who was applying for the job at Joyce's church in a city located about halfway between his town and ours. Joyce was the chairman (I hate the word "chairperson") of the committee to interview the candidates for the job, and this was her second meeting with Pastor John Perkins. She dragged me along because his wife was coming and she thought that it would be awkward if it was just her and the two of them, like the first time that she met him.

As Joyce was upstairs doing whatever it is that she does to take hours to get ready for something like this dinner, I went down to the hotel Sports Bar to watch a game and have a few drinks. It was only six o'clock and dinner wasn't until eight so rather than sitting with my thumb up my ass in the Room 810 I thought that I'd enjoy myself more in the Sports Bar.

I play in several recreational leagues depending upon the season. It being spring, I had played a softball game Friday night. I always remove my wedding ring when I do because it psychologically adversely affects my play, especially when I'm gripping a bat. In the second inning I hit a line drive to left center which I thought that I could stretch into a double. I had to dive into second base to beat the throw from the left fielder, and when I did I dislocated the ring finger on my left hand. It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch even though I taped it up as soon as I scored a run on the next batter's single. I also soaked it in ice water after the game, but it swelled up to the extent that I could not put my wedding ring back on.

Apparently the hotel's Sports Bar was a minor meat market in this unfamiliar city because I saw an inordinate number of women in it, most either attractive, slutty, or both. It was very busy and I was lucky to get a small table in the corner although still with a view of one of the large TV screens. I was sitting at the small table nursing a beer while alternating between watching a baseball game and the women, when a striking red head walked up to me with what looked like a foo-foo drink in her hand. She seemed to be about five years older than my thirty years, with a beautiful face, big tits, and shapely legs accented by her five inch heels - not that I noticed.

"Mind if I sit down - I need to get off my feet since these shoes are killing me and this is the only seat not occupied - unless you're saving it," the red-headed siren said.

"No, no...no problem," I stuttered, standing up and pulling the vacant chair out for her. "It looks like those shoes are uncomfortable," was my brilliant opening dialogue.

"You're so right," she said with a big smile as she sat down. My senses now attuned I couldn't help notice her perfect heart-shaped ass as she swung it down onto the chair. "You don't mind if I take my shoes off, do you? I promise that my feet don't stink," she giggled.

"No - help yourself," I quickly replied, like I was going to tell her "Just live with the pain."

"Oh, that feels so good," she mumbled as she removed both shoes and rubbed her left foot. "See what a medieval torture device these things are," she continued as she held up one of the shoes for me to see. It did look like it was for show only, and about as practical as a tit on a boar.

"I know that I could never walk in them," I chuckled as I stared at her left hand, which was holding the shoe - no wedding rings. "Maybe she thinks that I'm single and wants to pick me up?" I allowed myself to dream. "No, she's too hot for that - she could get any guy she wanted," I quickly told myself, noticing even more clearly her perfect facial features, dancing green eyes, and big conical bonkers.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

Rather than give a long explanation I said "I'm waiting to go to dinner with someone and thought that I'd have a drink ahead of time and watch the game."

"I hope that I won't distract you," she smiled, while batting her eyes.

I wanted to say "You're the biggest distraction I've ever seen in my life," but instead I lied "I'm not really that interested in the game. So why are you here?"

"I'm going to meet someone later too, but he's out and about and I don't know when he'll get here because he's always late so I thought that I'd get a drink for myself, and this was the only place nearby."

"What's your name?" I asked, extending my hand, "I'm Brian."

"I'm Alisha, Brian," she replied, again batting her eyes as she put her soft hand into mine. "Sooo nice to meet you." She held onto my hand a length of time that was inappropriate for someone who wasn't married to her or a good friend of hers, but for some reason I didn't complain. Actually the reason was apparent; it sent an electric charge up my spine.

I found Alisha about the easiest person to talk to that I had ever met - but also the most "flirty" and provocative. I bought us each two more drinks while the conversation flowed as we talked and laughed. Our conversation got to a point where we exchanged risqué stories and jokes, when my cellphone rang, snapping me out of a trance that I was in staring at Alisha's beautiful face and bewitching cleavage.

"Hello," I innocuously answered.

"Hi Hon," came Joyce's voice. "I just wanted to let you know that I heard from John Perkins, and he won't get here until about nine - and I could use the extra time to get ready anyway."

"What the fuck?" I said to myself - how could she need more time. Then I remembered that in addition to her normal tedious ritual of getting ready that she had to brush up on the topics that her church wanted her to discuss with John. "Do you want me to redo the reservation?" I asked.

"I already have," she chuckled. "See you in the restaurant about 9:00." It was 7:15.

"OK, see you then," I said, terminating the call.

As I looked back at Alisha I saw that she was looking at a text message on her smartphone. She key boarded something short, and then put it in her purse.

"Any problem?" she asked.

"No, not really - just a delay in when I'm to meet who I'm supposed to."

"I hope that you're not disappointed to spend some more time with me," she said, again batting her damn eye lashes as she simultaneously flipped her long red mane over her shoulder and smiled showing her flawless pearly whites.

"No...no...no problem," I stuttered as she placed her hand on top of mine. She didn't remove her hand but rather several minutes later her bare left foot contacted my leg. My cock started saluting. About 7:30 she looked at her watch on her perfectly tanned arm, with just the right amount of muscle.

"Say, Brian - I hope that I'm not being inappropriate, but with your delay I wonder if there is something that you could help me with in my room, upstairs. I simply can't connect to the Internet with my laptop and I really need to later tonight, and the hotel doesn't have an IT guy on staff today and the front desk has been unhelpful."

"SHIT," I said to myself, drawing upon my golden rule morality. I had never been unfaithful to Joyce but this was the sexiest woman that I had ever seen in my life - not just live, but in any media. Was she propositioning me thinking that I was single?

"Uh...well...I'm...uh...married," I stammered.

"I am too," she replied with a devilish smile as she squeezed my hand harder. "I'm just asking you to help me with my computer," she continued with a glint in her eye and batting her goddamn coquettish eyelashes again. "I'm sure that it won't take long."

"Uh...OK," I stammered some more, seemingly having lost the inability to say "No" to this siren. She got the biggest smile I've ever seen - which seemed to morph from sweet to diabolical.

When we entered Room 334, much to my relief she actually did get out her laptop. I was hoping that she would leave the door to her room open, but it automatically closed like most hotel room doors do. I started up her laptop at the desk in the room. She stood right next to me, putting one hand on my shoulder and pointing with the other hand. "You won't abuse my trust if I tell you my password, will you?" she chuckled once the machine fired up.

"No," I laughed as I turned my head toward her and found her face, with twinkling eyes, pursed lips, and an intoxicating aroma, right next to mine.

I played around with the computer for a while - Alisha's hand never left my shoulder, occasionally squeezing it when it looked like I was making headway. I'm no computer expert by any means, but I am fairly familiar with and conversant in the operating system that she had, and I had set up the Internet on Joyce's laptop earlier in the day. After about five minutes of playing around with it, Alisha was connected.

"Thanks soooo much Brian," she gushed, planting a kiss on my cheek. "Can you click onto this?" she asked pointing to an icon on the screen. I did; up popped a photo of Alisha naked in a beyond-incendiary pose. Her nude body was impossibly alluring.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she chortled, "I didn't realize that that was the first photo - can you get out of that folder?"

My hands were frozen on the keyboard - my eyes frozen on the screen. What wasn't frozen was my cock. It went "boing!" faster than at any previous time in my life.

"Seems like you have a problem," she whispered in my ear in a husky voice as she stroked my cock through my pants. When my eyes finally left the screen and looked at her, her lips were right next to mine. We exchanged passionate kisses as my cock unbelievably got even harder. There was something about Alisha that even transcended her beauty - it must have been pheromones, because at that point I lost all control.

My Golden Rule morphed from a basis of my morality to a basis of immorality when without any conscious thought of Joyce I gummed Alisha's labia and flicked her clit while she sucked my cock. When I heard her growl "Fuck me!" I turned her on her hands and knees on her hotel room bed and buried my cock in her soaking wet pussy in one thrust. As I banged away her ponderous tits slapped into each other, providing an erotic background sound - that is they smacked each other until I grabbed them with both my hands for pleasure and traction. I squeezed both nipples as I grunted like a sounder of swine while Alisha screamed into a pillow as her pussy spasmed in response to me fire-hosing it.

When we finally separated we laid face-to-face. She played with my testicles while I pinched or sucked her massive tits, as we were hit by a series of orgasmic aftershocks, each one reinforcing the fact that we had had an all-time fuck. Time seemed to stand still, until I looked at the clock next to the bed. 8:22.

"Oh shit, I have to meet Joyce at 9:00," I mumbled, "and I am too euphoric to move," I continued.

"Is Joyce your wife?" she asked with a half-smile and a somewhat perplexed look.

"Uh...yeah," was all that I could respond.

With more energy than I had Alisha popped out of bed, pulled me up, and said "We have time for a shower."

Giggling, Alisha led me into the bathroom by my cock as I stumbled and groaned. Fortunately this hotel had over-sized showers. She got the water temperature to her liking and then pushed me into the shower stall. We chuckled as we washed each other off. The water invigorated me. When Alisha saw me starting to perk up she put a zealous lip lock on me while stroking my cock. My hands instinctively found her nipples as my dick rose to the occasion.

I had never fucked in the shower before, but it wasn't long before Alisha was bent over with her hands against the wall of the shower stall opposite the showerhead and with her ass and pussy beckoning me. My cock went up her lubricated channel and I soon had the quickest second fuck of my life as she screamed while I again grunted like an 800 pound hog.

******************

Somehow Alisha and I made it down to the hotel dining room by 9:02. We walked in together, me more like a zombie than a human, each looking for our respective dining companions, but of course with no PDA. I turned to Alisha and mouthed "Thank you." She mouthed back "My pleasure, stud!"

I took a few steps of what I thought were ahead of Alisha; I spotted Joyce off to the side in the dining room - remarkable that she would be on time even if it was an hour after the originally scheduled meeting. She was talking to a guy about forty years old who I assumed was John Perkins. As I walked toward them Joyce saw me and gushed "I see that you've already met John's wife Alisha." It was only then that I noticed that Alisha was just a half-step behind me with a cat that ate the canary grin on her face.

I believe that Joyce introduced me to John and shook Alisha's hand while Alisha was saying something about how we had met in the Sports Bar and quickly realized that we would be having dinner together with our spouses. However, I can't be sure, because I was in a haze.

I probably sounded like a moron during dinner conversation. My fluency was not helped by the fact that Alisha was rubbing her bare foot on my leg most of the dinner. After we ate, John and Joyce went to the hotel lobby to talk in more detail. "Why don't you two go back to the Sports Bar," Joyce tittered at Alisha and me.

At the Sports Bar I got Alisha a drink. If I thought that she was going to ignore what had happened between 7:30 and 9:00 p. m. I had another guess coming.

After just once sip of her drink Alisha giggled "You really are fun, Brian. I can't remember ever having more fun in my life."

Overcome by a sudden wave of honesty I could only limply but genuinely reply "I never believed that it could be that good - you're a goddess."

"I hope that you're going to suggest to Joyce that her church hire John to be the pastor. Think about how much more fun we could have - especially Sunday mornings while John was preaching and Joyce was doing her church thing."

I had found out during dinner that Alisha was about as un-religious as I was, and that she and John married before he had his religious epiphany. She supported them while he went to divinity school. "I've been a faithful wife for seventeen years," Alisha chuckled . [I also found out during dinner that she was a VERY well-preserved thirty nine.] "Now that I've found such a studly playmate I'm gonna have some real fun," she continued as she stroked my cock through my pants, getting the desired rise out of me despite my two climaxes earlier that evening.

****************

Joyce and John finished up after about half an hour and found Alisha and I in the bar - fortunately before I spontaneously ejaculated in my pants. We said our goodbyes and then went up to our respective rooms; I hoped that Alisha had tidied up 334 after our fuck fest, but in my sex-induced stupor couldn't remember whether or not she did.

"You and Alisha seemed to get along well," Joyce said to me as she removed her blouse in Room 810, "isn't she nice."

"Nice was not what I first thought of when thinking of Alisha. "Fantastic fuck," came to mind.

The mention of Alisha's name reminded me of the condition of my flagpole. I grabbed Joyce, undid her bra, pulled down her skirt and panties, and did a reenactment of my doggy fuck with Alisha earlier that evening, all the while imagining that it was in fact Alisha as Joyce's tits flopped into each other while she whined and moaned with each one of my vigorous thrusts. I couldn't believe the volume of my third ejaculation of the night - more than any third ejaculation ever. In fact, I couldn't ever remember me having three climaxes in such a short period of time before.

As Joyce and I lay cooing with her head on my shoulder she giggled "What got into you stud?"

"Can't I make love to my sexy wife without something having 'gotten into' me?" I chuckled.

"That wasn't making love - that was animal fucking," she chuckled back, using the "F" word for the first time in at least a year.

"Are you complaining?" I asked.

"Hell no," she chortled, uttering her second swearword of the year. "I want a repeat tomorrow morning.

Courtesy of my fixation on Alisha, Joyce did get her doggy fuck repeat about 7:00 a. m.

****************

As Joyce and I drove home she asked "Well what do you think of John?"

"He seems really qualified," I earnestly replied, although to be honest I couldn't think of one thing he had said that impressed me. Then again, I wasn't really concentrating on what he was saying as I tried most of the dinner to keep Alisha's bare foot from coming into contact with my crotch. "What did you think; did he impress you?" I asked.

"Yes; yes he did, even more than the first time that we met. I have one more candidate to interview next week who will be coming to visit me at the church, and then I'll make my recommendation of the two finalists to the vestry. I think that John will be one of the two finalists," she replied.

******************

Two months later as I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes shortly after Joyce had left - remarkably on time - for the "sunrise," seven o'clock service, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a smiling Alisha wearing a trench coat.

"Don't look so surprised to see me," she chuckled. "You know that Joyce's church hired John."

"I thought that you would be at the service," I smiled as I grabbed Alisha's hand and pulled her into the house.

"I don't go if I can avoid it - and certainly not when I have something way better to do," she cackled as she removed her trench coat, exposing her consummate naked body.

Less than two minutes later Alisha was bent over a padded chair in our living room, moaning and holding onto the arms for dear life as my cock stroked into and out of her snug pussy, now its favorite place on earth.

As Alisha and I were starting round two in the guest room bed she giggled "Aren't you worried about Joyce coming home early?"

"Nope," I chirped, "Time means nothing to her, I wait and then, she's late again, eight o'clock, nine o'clock, quarter to ten," at which time I ran by cock back into Alisha's pussy, pressing my chest against the mammoth marvels on her chest as she wrapped her sculptured thighs around my torso.

I don't resent Joyce being late when my cock is ensconced in Alisha's pussy!