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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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Killian and Marlene Goodson
by Marc Diamond (address withheld)

***

A lonely married woman has had all the celibacy she can 
stand. She knows what she wants, when she wants it and 
who should give it to her. She also wants it for her 
daughter, but Killian, doesn't know it yet. (MFF, wife, 
cheat, 1st, oral)

***

Chapter 1

Singing loudly, I barely heard the doorbell over the 
Eagles album. Lifting free weights and grunting out the 
words to Desperado had become a Saturday morning 
ritual. 

But there it was again. Fuck! Why do people want to 
interrupt my Saturday morning? Grudgingly I put down 
the weight and sprinted to the door.

Winded and sweating, I opened the door and was 
surprised do see Marlene Goodson. She seemed flushed 
but at least her skin tone complimented the sheer peach 
dress. Sensing something wrong, my aggravation quickly 
changed to kindness.  

Mrs. Goodson is a confident yet soft-spoken woman in 
her early forties – about 5'7" and packaged in a mouth-
watering tanned hourglass figure - very attractive. 

Her husband had been the county judge until about four 
years ago when he suffered a massive stroke, which left 
him totally immobilized. Though I've never had occasion 
to visit the Goodson residence, like many in our small 
community, I had heard the reports that his only 
response was eye movement. No speech or movement of any 
other kind.

It would have been nice if I could have felt sorry for 
him, and I guess in a small way I did, but the truth 
was he was a notorious womanizer, a lousy judge and 
generally an all-around hard man. 

I didn't know him personally, but through the years 
there had been plenty of rumors that he had been both 
physically and verbally abusive to Marlene and her 
daughter. Apparently the judge had been one domineering 
tyrant. And even though he is little more than a 
vegetable, it's difficult to fine anyone that has any 
compassion for him. 

Judge Goodson, fortunately, over the years has 
accumulated a great deal of wealth, which enables Mrs. 
Goodson to employ home health care givers. She had a 
room built on the rear of the house for him with both 
video and audio feeds.

Considering what she has had to put up with over the 
years, she ought to have the bastard institutionalized 
in some backwoods hell-hole. But she didn't; she hired 
some help and kept him at home. The woman is a Saint 
and really deserves for something good to come her way. 
It has never been my good fortune to find a woman like 
that; they're always taken.

* * * 

I met Mrs. Goodson and her daughter Mauri at a 
community 4th of July picnic three years ago. Alice 
lived away but was visiting her mother for the holiday. 
Since then there have been several occasions in which 
we bumped into each other. On one occasion I had the 
privilege of dancing with Mrs. Goodson. She is a good 
dancer and didn't seem to be offended when I flirtingly 
pressed against her. She had a superb body – still 
does.

I was envious at how easy and graceful she moved as we 
danced. From side to side and forward and backward, no 
matter which way I turned, she moved perfectly with me. 
Holding a woman like that in your arms is more than a 
little arousing – full hips and a pair of 36-Cs never 
felt so good. 

I couldn't help consider that if she can match and move 
with me that good on the dance floor, how wonderful 
would be her movement in bed - moving together, as one. 
I don't believe she noticed the slight swelling between 
us, but even if she did, she never let it have an 
effect on her dancing. 

Marlene Goodson was a very fine woman – very classy, 
but still reserved and quite. I assumed her crude 
husband had a great deal to do with her reticence. 
Sometimes it's just easier to present a quiet 
diplomacy, especially if you're married to a fool like 
George. 

It had been nearly a year since Marlene had approached 
me regarding some rental property. Her daughter and 
son-in-law wanted to relocate to the area and were 
seeking a place to rent until they could find the right 
piece of property to purchase. We made an appointment, 
I picked her up and we drove to look at several 
properties. Our conversation was open and filled with 
lots of laughter. I couldn't conceal it; she knew I was 
smitten with her. I hadn't been this goo-goo over a 
woman since I used to look up Mrs. Moreland's dress in 
the third grade. 

Of the available rentals I owned, she selected one she 
felt would be satisfactory, signed a lease agreement on 
behalf of her daughter, made a down payment and that 
was that – daughter Mauri and son-in-law, Harold, moved 
in the following month. Since there were no pets and 
still no children, I presumed they would make very 
dependable renters.  

The day the moving van arrived Mrs. Goodson called and 
asked if I could be present when Mauri and Harold moved 
in. No problem. I jumped at the chance to see her 
again. There was something about this woman. To me she 
was like an opiate.

Mauri was a beautiful young woman in her mid-twenties – 
5'8" and like her mother, very put together. I could 
easily imagine that in a mini skirt and 3" heels, Alice 
would steal the hearts and eyes of every man in a room. 
As a young woman she had the kind of looks that other 
women hate but secretly envy. It was easy to see where 
she got her looks. She was just a younger but taller 
version of her mother. 

She too seemed like a person that had paid a terribly 
high price for being raised by a heavy-handed father. I 
wanted to cuddle her and tell her how beautiful she 
was, but that wouldn't have been appropriate. Hopefully 
her husband would bathe her in praise and compliments. 
If he didn't, he was as big a fool as his father-in-
law. 

Meeting Harold, Mauri's husband, was the surprise of 
the day. Harold was about 5'6" and maybe 130 pounds. 
Maybe it had something to do with being raised by such 
an overbearing father, but I didn't get it. I'm not 
sure Marlene could understand it either. She never said 
anything; she was not that kind of person. But there 
was just something understated in her manner when she 
was around Harold. 

It is a truth that sometimes what we don't say is a 
good indictor of how we truly feel. Marlene was 
indifferent to Harold. While assisting them with their 
moving, she had very little to say to Harold. She never 
said it, but I distinctly got the impression she would 
have preferred Mauri marry someone more the 'tall, dark 
and handsome' type. Who knows, maybe she imagined her 
future grandchildren. 

Also, every mother knows how important it is for a 
young woman to be satisfied in bed, and this would 
include her Mauri. When a mother looks at her son-in-
law and can't keep from wondering what he would be like 
in bed, she is usually content that her daughter will 
be satisfactorily serviced. I didn't detect that 
Marlene was happy with anything about Harold. 

On moving day Marlene introduced me to everyone. 
Following the introductions, I volunteered and helped 
rearrange some of their furniture. Harold watched as 
the two women lifted one end of the couch and I lifted 
the other. I joked with them how it took two good women 
to wear me out. It was despicable and not too subtle, 
but I was trying. There were smirks and sly smiles from 
everyone but Harold. The quip passed over him.

When I suggested we move to the bedroom and set up the 
'adult playroom,' Mauri rolled her eyes. Not a good 
sign. I made no further comment. 

Over the course of the next several hours I was 
surprised at how easily our brief friendship was 
developing into something that was quite warm. When 
Harold was out of the room the sexual innuendoes and 
chemistry were obvious. There were times we were openly 
joking and I found myself lusting for Mauri and more 
than a little obsessed with Marlene. Though they were 
both married, and even mother and daughter, there was a 
sexual chemistry that should not have been there – but 
it was – and it was with both of them. 

There was certainly the potential for things to get 
complicated, but as I thought about things, that was 
highly unlikely considering they were such fine married 
women. Marlene was the wife of Judge Goodson, and Mauri 
was ten years younger than me. While it was easy, even 
natural, to fantasize about these two beautiful women, 
my fantasies were impractical. I dismissed them as best 
I could – yet here is Marlene Goodson ringing my 
doorbell on a Saturday morning. 

* * *

"Hello Mrs. Goodson. Please come in." 

Closing the door behind her, I led us into my larger 
living room. She seemed hesitant and uncomfortable, as 
if something was troubling her. 

"Please sit down. How may I help you?" That was all I 
could think of to say. Her unexpected presence had me 
somewhat stunned. 

She sat down on the edge of the couch then rearranged 
the hem of her dress to the top of her knees. Rather 
than sit in the chair that was some distance away, I 
pulled the round Ottoman closer and sat down facing her 
– our knees nearly touching. No pantyhose – I noticed. 
Maybe the nearness would make things less threatening. 
Very shapely legs. 

"Killian, please call me Marlene."

I nodded in affirmation.

"How may I help you?" 

"Well, I've come about my daughter... I've come to make 
a very, very unusual request," her voice was soft and 
she seemed to choke the words out. 

Catching her eyes traveling down my body and finally 
resting on my crotch made me very self-conscious. 
Suddenly I was aware of how I must appear. Rushing to 
the door I had failed to cover up; I was only wearing 
some faded gym shorts, and they were too small. My legs 
were open in the typical male power position and the 
absence of underwear allowed a now very noticeable 
bulge to be easily seen. And I was covered with sweat 
from my workout. It wasn't the most pleasant sight or 
smell. But I hadn't planned on entertaining. Had I not 
been interrupted, I would have completed my exercises 
then proceeded to the shower.

Assessing the situation, I quickly apologized. 

"Mrs. Goodson... er, Marlene, please forgive my 
appearance. I normally work out every Saturday morning. 
Had I known you were coming I would have been more 
appropriately dressed. I feel badly about my 
appearance. Please excuse me while I take a quick 
shower and put on something more appropriate. Let me 
get you something to drink while you wait. Coffee? 
Something cold? I promise you I won't be but a second."

"Killian," there was a pleading in her voice, "please 
don't shower on my part. This is difficult for me..."

She then stood and took a step toward me. We were now 
very close, except I was still sitting. 

Looking down she said, "I don't know how to say this 
without sounding like a terrible person, but it's been 
a long time since I've been around a man that smelled 
like a man."

Her words, coupled with her body language, were a clear 
signal. I knew what she was implying or at least I 
thought I did. She may have initially intended to say 
something about her daughter, but that was not her 
primary reason for this Saturday morning visit. It was 
simply the pretense. But a gentleman never embarrasses 
a lady or makes her appear foolish. If he does he is a 
fool. And it's for sure it will cost him knowing the 
full sweetness of her charms.

"Marlene, nothing you could ever say or do would ever 
make me believe you are a terrible person. With what 
you have had to deal with over the years, I think you 
are a Saint. And though I've never said anything, you 
already know how I feel about you."

With that said I extended my arms and let my hands 
softly touch the outside of her knees. I felt her tense 
as the reality of what was about to happen was sinking 
in. She was having last minutes thoughts on whether she 
should let things go further or not. This was not the 
moment to aggressively push my hands up her dress. When 
or if she wants them there, she will let me know. So 
keeping my hands where they were, I continued to softly 
caress her knees and upper calves. 

I let my face drift to the front of her thighs then 
slowly press in on her legs. I was against her love 
triangle. Silently exhaling a stream of hot breath onto 
her legs, I knew the heat of my breath would be easily 
felt through the thin material. It was only a few 
moments later when I felt her relax. She had decided. 
She wanted to continue. Her need had won out over her 
apprehension. 

There was also another reality. I knew that if I 
stopped now she would perceive that as a rejection and 
would be humiliated. In coming to my house and offering 
herself to me, she was going against her own nature and 
taking a risk. I realized and respected that. I had no 
intention of hurting this beautiful woman in any way. 
The die was cast. 

It was much more than her sexual needs that she was 
entrusting to me, it was also her heart. If I had taken 
the time to fully consider how difficult all this had 
been for her, I'm not sure what I would have done. It's 
probably good that I didn't. I may have ended up on the 
floor blubbering how unworthy I felt - that she didn't 
need. So while I couldn't give her a lot, I could 
provide her with something hot, hard, thick and eight 
'n one-quarter inches in length. It would have to do. 
When that's all ya got, that's all ya got. But it was 
hers.

As I prepared to enjoy the feast that she was offering 
in her luscious maple valley, I again marveled at the 
daring it had taken for her to make this decision. 
After four years of a sexless existence, living and 
faithfully caring for a man that had never personally 
loved her, she had reached the end and could take it no 
more. And I was not going to disappoint her.

Slowly, in up and down caressing motions I moved my 
hands on her legs and thighs. Her legs were like heated 
marble and her inner thighs were like silk. I was 
driven now to bring my mouth to her caldron of passion. 
She was probably wet when she arrived and had only 
gotten more moist. There was a succulent elixir of love 
continuing to flow from her. It was mine and I needed 
to get to it, but I still needed to exercise patience. 
She had waited four years for the kind of fucking she 
wanted, so a few more moments wouldn't matter. 

For years no one had had kissed or sucked or licked 
her. Sliding my hands to her upper thighs, I moved my 
fingertips around to the back of her thighs, then up on 
her butt, then down and back to the front of her thighs 
again. She tensed slightly when I moved my thumbs to 
her inner thighs, but just as quickly relaxed. I backed 
off from touching her heat. She wanted it. Desire is 
such a great aphrodisiac, isn't it?  

Circling my fingers again around to the back of her 
thighs I gently put pressure on her to come a half-step 
forward. She responded without hesitation; she was now 
between my legs. I continued to softly caress her legs, 
occasionally letting my hand rub the lips through her 
panties. They were noticeably swollen and her panties 
were soaked – even the inside of her thighs were wet. 
She smelled delicious and was no longer tentative but 
ready and waiting on me. 

There was a slow gyration of her hips toward me. But I 
wanted to raise the intensity of her desire even more. 
It had been four years since she had been with a man 
and after all the troubles she has had over the years, 
she deserves to have her every desire fulfilled. When I 
enter her I want her to come back at me with reckless 
and unrestrained abandon. 

I don't know why but I decided the best thing to do is 
bring her to orgasm before I fuck her. It could be 
dangerous, but still I think she will enjoy it more in 
the long run. I believe when that 'fuck glaze' comes 
over her eyes, she's going to metamorphosis into a 
throbbing 140-pound pussy. And quickly doing the math, 
a 140-pound woman in orgasm is equivalent to a 263-
pound man in PPSIT (pounds per square inch of thrust). 
I use my own chart. And that makes for one bone-jarring 
fuck.

As I think about it, there's no way that little Harold 
can ride Mauri. He doesn't have enough battery juice to 
turn that big motor over, let alone run it. Many a 
person has lost their life trying to ski behind a boat 
that is too big.  

I knew Marlene was getting close when I felt her hands 
on the back of my head pulling me into her. I loved her 
scent and couldn't wait to taste her. Her sweet aroma 
of sex was strong. Nothing smells any better than a 
woman wet with desire. I'd done very little to her; all 
that was happening to her was primarily due to her own 
anticipation. Giving yourself permission stirs the 
juices.

I moved my hands from her butt around to each of her 
sides and let my fingers slide over the waistband of 
her panties. Slowly then I began to pull them down. 
Deliberately slow – a little in the front and then 
moving my fingers to the back of her panties, I pulled 
down just a bit. 

I continued that slow process of pulling her panties 
down, all the while letting my fingers softly caress 
her skin. Her depth of breathing was noticeable. As my 
fingers began to move through her pubic hair then 
around to the cheeks of her behind, I couldn't help but 
grin. While I was deliberately slow, I could tell that 
she was ready for things to progress much faster. She 
repeatedly kept lifting her sex to me in a slow back 
and forth rhythm. 

"Ummmmmm. Killian, please. It's been so long."

I knew she wanted her panties off. When women heat up 
and are ready to fuck, they get impatient. They want to 
get naked. And Marlene was definitively impatient. She 
wanted her panties down, off, and me busy with her 
pussy. But I stopped pulling her panties down when they 
came to her knees.

Marlene had been pulling my face to her pussy so I 
decided to spend a few minutes gently biting her thighs 
and mound through her dress. She responded like I knew 
she would. She widened her stance as much as her 
panties would allow and lifted herself to my mouth. 

"Ahhhh... please, Killian... please... Ummmmmp... 
Ohhhh..." 

She was close and I didn't even have her panties off. 
But it was the anticipation of what was coming. She had 
held back and denied herself – but no longer. Today she 
was letting go. Today she was allowing herself the 
sexual pleasures that for several years she had only 
imagined. Today there was no more denying her needs as 
a woman. Today she had decided to satiate herself and 
fulfill her sexual needs. Maybe love tomorrow, but not 
today. Today she wants a fuckin'!

Gripping my hair she pulled my head back and lowered 
her head down. Her voice was low and guttural. She was 
intense and her eyes were dazed and darting back and 
forth. 

"Killian," she said through clinched teeth. "Your smell 
of sweat and sex is driving me crazy. I want it, 
Killian... and I want it now!" 

She was ready – more than ready! Wasting little time 
now I pulled her panties to her ankles and she stepped 
out of them. Standing up, I moved her back several 
steps to the couch and eased her down. 

Anticipating the fuck, she pulled up her dress, leaned 
back on the couch, grabbed her legs behind her knees 
and opened herself. She was a spectacular sight. I felt 
like Moses looking over into the Promised Land. 

Her outer lips were swollen and her valley glistened 
with a heavy winter frost. She was wet and open and 
ready. I heard Joshua and Caleb whisper, "There's 
giants over there, but we can take 'em."

'Till then I had forgotten about the music playing in 
the background. I hadn't turned it down and now I heard 
the Eagles playing the introduction to "Lyin' Eyes". 
Wafting through the hallway came the words: "City girls 
just seem to find out early how to open doors with just 
a smile, a rich ole man she won't have to worry, she'll 
dress up all in lace and go in style. 

"Late at night the big ole house gets lonely, I guess 
every point of refuge has its price, and it breaks her 
heart to think her love is only, given to a man with 
hands as cold as ice. 

"So she tells him she must go out for the evening, to 
comfort an old friend who's feelin' down, but she knows 
where she's goin' as she's leavin', she's headed for 
the cheatin' side of town. You can't hide your lyin' 
eyes, and your smile you can't disguise, I thought by 
now you'd realize there ain't no way to hide your lyin' 
eyes..." (Eagles Greatest Hits 1971-1975).

Kneeling down between her legs, I hoped the words 
hadn't spoiled the mood. They hadn't. She'd waited long 
enough. She knew what she wanted, when she wanted it, 
and who she wanted to give it to her. I was one luck 
fucker.

On my knees I moved up between her legs 'till they were 
draped over my shoulders. It felt natural. I looked at 
her with as much love as I could gather. She looked at 
me knowing all the time what I was going to do. 

"Marlene, I have no reason or right to say this, but I 
love you."

Then without another word I lowered my head and our 
lips met. 

To be continued...

Marc00diamond@yahoo.com

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 38