The Sexual Education BluesEpilogue free porn video

Roberta and Jeff

A month after the seminar ended, Roberta Tinsdale sent a formal dinner invitation to the residence of Jeff and Melanie Watts. Jeff, with that invitation in hand, drove eighty miles, pulling up to what could only be called a mansion. He drove through the tall wrought iron gates, which stood open, and up the horseshoe driveway, between carefully tended rows of privet hedge. There was a tall fountain, sparkling in the sun, across from the porch. He parked, and walked up the steps, between fourteen foot columns of white faux marble. He tried to just walk in, but the door was locked, and he was forced to ring the bell.

Natalie, a servant girl, opened the door. Jeff wondered where Hugh, the butler was.

"Mister Watts!" said Natalie, curtsying. "Now nice to see you. I wasn't told you were coming!"

"I'm not here for long. I just need to pick up Melanie. We're going to a party."

"Oh!" said the girl, looking distinctly surprised. Jeff knew she was aware of the strain between him and Melanie. Servants knew everything. "She's out by the pool, I believe."

Jeff walked through the house, which took over a minute. Harvey Spoonweather, Melanie's father, had wanted to make a statement about just how important he was, and he'd done a pretty good job of it. This place was fancier than the Governor's mansion.

Melanie WAS by the pool, in one of her signature black bikinis. She thought black made her skin look paler, her eyes bluer, and her hair more blond. Why she then lay in the sun, as often as possible, to darken her skin, was a mystery to Jeff. She was wearing sunglasses, so he couldn't tell if she was awake or not. He went to stand over her.

"Jeff!" she almost, but not quite squealed. "What are you doing here? Did you finally come to your senses? Are you here to work for Daddy?"

Jeff's initial reaction to his wife had been for his penis to stir. She WAS a beautiful woman. She had breasts as good as Tiffany's, and a flat abdomen that fairly screamed to be filled with a baby. She'd never consent to that, though. It would make her fat, and ugly... by definition. Her attitude, though, overrode any possibility that his penis would continue to stiffen. He suddenly realized that, if she stood and stripped naked, he might not be able to get it up for her. That made him sad.

"I came to get you," he said, calmly. "We've been invited to a party."

"A party?" There was a glimmer of interest in her voice. She didn't take off her sunglasses, though, or sit up. "What kind of party?"

"There will be dinner and dancing," he said. "That kind of party."

"Who'll be there?" she asked, as if that was the most important aspect of going to a party. "It won't be all those dreary teacher friends of yours, will it?"

"That doesn't matter, Melanie," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "We've been invited, and I sent an RSVP, and we're going."

"When is this party?" she asked, stretching in the sun.

"Tonight. You need to get up and come with me. Pack a bag. We'll be gone overnight."

"Tonight?" she asked, her voice rising. "Overnight? Jeff, I'm not ready! I need to go to the hairdresser, and shop for a gown. I can't go to a party tonight!"

"Get up, Melanie," he said, his voice tense. "We're GOING to this party, and we're leaving in fifteen minutes."

She did sit up then, but it was a result of outrage, and not because her husband, whom she hadn't seen for four months, was standing above her.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, Jeff, but... AWP!"

She yelped as he reached down and, with strength that astonished her, pulled her to her feet in one quick, violent movement. That she landed on balance was luck, but she didn't know that.

"Do not talk, Melanie," he ordered. "Walk. Walk to your room, wherever it is, and pack an overnight bag. Bring whatever cosmetics you like, and pick one of the dresses you already own. As I recall, you have a little red dress that I have always thought you looked especially good in. Bring that one. You'll have a chance to comb your hair, and put on makeup once we get there."

He put his hand in the small of her back and gave her a gentle push toward the house. She opened her mouth and he cut her off.

"Don't talk, Melanie!" he ordered again. "Walk."

She had never seen him like this. She had always been able to dominate him, first with her looks, then with the promise of sex, and finally, with her tongue. She'd needed a boyfriend, who could be turned into a husband, because she couldn't get her inheritance until she'd been married ten years. That was her grandfather's fault. The sexual revolution had shocked him, and he had made it plain, using his money, that none of his family would engage in anything approaching "free love" or indiscriminate sexual behavior.

His own children had already blown it, on that score, as far as he was concerned, with the exception of his son, Harvey, who successfully navigated the rules, and inherited the five million dollars his father had set aside for him. Harvey's brother and sister still lived in trailers, on the edge of an Indian reservation.

The remaining fifteen million in the old bastard's estate was reserved for his grandchildren, could they match Harvey's behavior. At present, technically, that meant that each grandchild who met the requirements would receive two million, free and clear. Once all of them had either completed the plan, or been disqualified, the remaining money would be split evenly between the successful contenders.

Melanie was Harvey's only child. She had six cousins, whom she had never met, but knew a lot about. Private detectives kept an eye on the trailer trash. Two of them had already cut themselves out of the inheritance, and there were pictures to prove it. They didn't know about those pictures, and wouldn't, until somebody tried to claim their part of the inheritance. That was to ensure that the other four didn't worry about surveillance, in hopes they'd slip up too. Harvey and Melanie weren't all that worried about anyone watching Melanie. The trailer trash couldn't afford the rates that private investigators charged. Besides, Melanie, though she didn't know it, had a low sex drive. Sex was smelly, nasty business, that required showering carefully, afterwards. Shopping was much more fun.

That was part of the reason Melanie was so welcome at home. All she had to do was stay married for another six years, and she'd very likely have more money than her father did.

Melanie found herself, to her continuing surprise, sitting in the passenger seat of Jeff's 1995 Ford Escort, the only car he could afford, after Melanie took theirs, leaving him to keep making the payments. He had been so intent on getting Melanie into his car and off the property, he hadn't even thought about the fact that there was a much better car on the place, that he had every right to use, than the old Ford. She couldn't remind him either. Every time she had opened her mouth, he'd been right there, telling her to shut it. She'd finally had enough of his new assertive behavior.

"I'm not going ANYWHERE with you, if you keep treating me like THIS!" she'd shouted.

"Melanie," he'd said, his voice serious. "You're my wife, even though you're not acting like it. You ARE going with me to this party, and you WILL behave yourself and act like you're having a good time, or so help me, I'll file for divorce!"

He had no idea he'd played the only card he had in his hand that trumped any of hers. Her attitude after that surprised him, but he was so relieved that she actually packed a bag and got in the car with him, that he didn't worry about it.

As they left town, she asked: "Where IS this party?"

"It's in a town called Glenns Ferry," he said. He had to speak loudly, because the windows were down. The AC didn't work in his car.

"Glenns FERRY!" yelled Melanie. "That's clear over in Elmore County!" Harvey Spoonweather had built his mansion on the outskirts of Boise. It would take them hours to drive to Glenns Ferry.

"Yes, it is," said Jeff, staring straight ahead.

"Why are you doing this to me?" whined his wife, trying to capture her blond tresses and keep them from whipping in her face.

"We're married, Melanie," he yelled. "You're my wife. Married people have a social life!"

Melanie, reminded that she was, in fact, married, subsided. She figured out how to let the seat go back and tried to go to sleep. Talking to Jeff was something she'd never figured out how to do. All he ever wanted to talk about was fixing society's woes. She already knew now to do that. Money. Money fixed everything.

Roberta had planned the party for a Sunday evening, because that was when the people she wanted to come to this party would most likely be available. She prepared the guest list carefully. She knew some of Phillip's business associates, and chose one couple from that list. She invited another man she knew her husband wanted to do business with, and assumed that man would come, just to see what Phillip would offer him. She added Jeff and his wife, per their plan, and stopped there. Eight for dinner was a manageable number, and it was likely that the two couples invited for "cover" would leave early. That would leave Melanie and Phillip with time to kill, and, hopefully, talk. She had everything that she intended to have when Jeff and Melanie arrived. They were supposed to come early, just in case.

She looked in the mirror. She wasn't going to gussy herself up. She'd wear a modest dress, and very little makeup. Jeff wouldn't care, and Jeff was the only one whose opinion she really cared about.

She stared at the woman in the mirror. Were they really going to do this? Could they pull it off? Was this the stupidest idea in the world?

She sighed, and left, to check everything one more time. On impulse, she went to the den, where Phillip was surfing the net. Even on Sunday, he'd started trying to find business opportunities, doing research on companies he might want to buy into.

"Our first guests will be here in an hour or so," she said. "Jeff - the one I met in Arizona and told you about - he and his wife will arrive early. They're coming from quite a distance, and she'll need some time to get ready."

"Um... OK," he said, staring at the screen.

"We have an hour... if you're feeling... frisky," she said, half hoping, and half dreading his answer. She felt conflicted... she really owed him the chance to... reclaim her?

"Maybe later," he said, still staring at the screen and clicking the mouse. "Maybe after the party."

"Maybe," she said softly. Then, she left, to check everything one more time.

Roberta was the perfect hostess when Jeff dragged Melanie to the door. He had her bag in his hand. His was still in the trunk.

"Come in, come in!" said Roberta brightly, looking only at Melanie. "You poor thing. I'm so sorry this was so far away from your home, but I so wanted to meet you." She glanced at Jeff, who nodded once, letting her know that he'd informed Melanie about how they'd met, and how, when he'd left his wallet at the center, she'd covered the cost of his dinner one night. Coming to the party was her way of letting him pay her back. Jeff had thought it was a pretty flaky story, but that was the way Melanie thought. Tit for tat, and throwing money around was something she understood well.

Roberta took the bag from Jeff.

"Nice to see you again, Jeff," she said, almost dismissively. "Let me get your lovely wife somewhere where she can freshen up and relax. I have the iron warmed up, so we can freshen up her dress too. Phillip's busy making money, so you'll meet him later. Make yourself comfortable. I'll get you something to drink when Melanie is all settled."

Roberta led Melanie off, already chatting animatedly, and Jeff, with a huge sigh of relief, sat down in the living room. Exhausted by the tension of getting things this far, and still on track, he dozed off within ten minutes.

They were on the time table, and that alone gave Jeff and Roberta hope that things would go well. Melanie had time only to get ready. Roberta took her to the guest bedroom, pushed her into the shower and then helped her put her hair up. She ironed the dress while Melanie applied her makeup, and then left to get ready herself. She woke Jeff, kissed him firmly, but quickly, and told him to go get dressed with his wife.

Jeff carried his suitcase into the bedroom as Melanie was putting on the finishing touches.

"I think I'm gaining weight or something," she moaned, pulling at the front of her dress. It was startlingly red, and the neckline plunged to well below her full breasts. There were diamond shaped cut-outs on the sides, and almost no back at all. The dress itself announced that there was no bra ever made that could be worn with it. Her nipples punctuated that statement. She had shoes to match, of course, and had brought the diamond necklace her father had given her for her last birthday. It was worth seven or eight thousand dollars, and the matching dangly earrings were worth another four grand.

She looked fabulous.

"See?" she said, trying to cover more of her breasts. The edge of the dress threatened to show her areolas, which Jeff knew were pale pink, and actually lighter than her tanned breast flesh. Jeff was suddenly aware that, at some time or another she must have lay in the sun naked, since there were no tan lines in sight. He wondered how she did that with servants all over the place, half of them male.

"You look beautiful," he said, meaning it. She'd always been beautiful, and he'd always been amazed that she'd chosen him, when there were so many better looking men around. It had made him feel proud, at first.

"When did I gain all this weight?" she moaned. "Will there be dancing?" she asked. "I'll have to be careful if I dance anything fast. My boobs could pop right out," she complained.

"Stand up and shake a little, and let's find out," he suggested, only half joking. "You know I love to see your breasts."

She glanced at him in the mirror, and her voice went into the sing-song voice that always made him wince. "Pookie's so naughty, wanting to see my boobies," she almost chanted, like he was a five year old. "Pookie knows he can't play with them right now. We have a party to go to! Maybe Pookie can play with them later, if Mamma isn't too tired." Her face had never changed at all, and she hadn't maintained eye contact with him, brushing an eyebrow with one finger, instead. Her voice went back to normal. "Where are we staying tonight, anyway? I hope it's not some ratty motel. Do they have a decent hotel in this town?"

"You know," he said, feigning astonishment, "I never even thought about that! Stupid me!" He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "I'll have to ask Roberta about that."

"She seems nice," said Melanie, touching up her lipstick. "At least she has good taste in perfume," she said, looking at the bottles arrayed on the dressing table.

Jeff bit off a snarl, and got dressed. Before he was done, Melanie stood. She never even looked at him while he dressed. "I'm going to go mingle," she said, walking out the door. "Don't be too long."

Melanie was a hit with all the men, and she was in her element. Her party persona was bright, cheerful, and flirty. The women, most of whom she put to shame, hated her immediately. The men, trying not to make it obvious, seemed to always have some need to talk to her about this or that thing. It got worse, depending on your outlook, when Jeff let drop what her maiden name was. All of them knew who Harvey Spoonweather was. While the mining empire his father had reined over was long gone, the money it had generated was not, and they were like sharks, with chum in the water, when they found out she was his daughter. Roberta had chosen dinner guests well. The women made sure that, after dinner, the party was very short indeed.

When only the two couples were left, Roberta went to the kitchen, to "freshen drinks". She came back, an annoyed look on her face.

"I'd have sworn I got four bottles of wine. We drank two, but I can't find the other two. Those others might have pooped out on us, but the party's just starting. I'm going to run out and get more wine, darling. I won't be gone but a minute."

Jeff took his cue and stood up.

"Want some company?" he asked. "I didn't think the others would be interested in teacher things, at dinner. This might give us a chance to catch up on what's happened since the seminar."

"That would be nice," said Roberta, looking only mildly interested. "Will you two be all right while we're gone? Should we all go together?"

"I'd love to be able to chat with Melanie," said Phillip, beaming. He was looking straight at Melanie's breasts as he spoke. "I have some ideas that just might interest her father, and I didn't want to talk about them during dinner."

"Well, then, Darling," said Roberta brightly, "chat away. Pick some music so we can dance when I get back. When we get back." She corrected herself as if she'd just remembered Jeff was going along. "We never dance any more," she said, sounding pouty.

"Music," said Phillip, staring at Melanie's nipples. "Sure."

The wine Roberta was "going to get" was in the trunk of the car, along with a blanket and two pillows. She drove to a dirt lane, that led off into a wooded area. There was a gate, but she got out and opened it, drove through, and closed it again.

"This is property owned by one of Phillip's business associates," she explained. "They have big plans to develop it someday, and are waiting for the value of the land to rise."

Beyond the thin line of woods was pasture. There was a big oak tree that shaded the ground in a thirty foot circle.

"Phillip brought me here one time to show me how much money he'll make when they develop this land," she said. "I saw the tree, and wanted to come back for a picnic. Somehow, it never happened."

"Too bad," said Jeff, looking at her. "It's a nice place for a picnic."

"Nice enough for a picnic," she said, getting out. She took the blanket and spread it out on the thick grass under the tree. Jeff brought the pillows. By the time he got there, she was down to her bra and panties. She gave him a smoldering look and dropped them, and then lay down, spreading her legs, and pulling at her nipples.

"Speaking of picnics... see anything you want to nibble on?" she asked.

He did, and he nibbled with delight, her hands stroking his hair as she arched under him.

"I had a period when I got home," she moaned. Jeff was too busy to say anything. "I'm ovulating right now," she panted. "It would be very dangerous if any of your sperm got in me tonight."

Roberta, acutely aware of the feeling of Jeff's sperm, seeping out of her pussy, almost forgot to take the wine into the house. When she remembered, she turned to see it in Jeff's hands, and smiled at him.

Inside, they found Phillip and Melanie in the den, where Phillip was showing her development plans for the very land his wife had cuckolded him on, only fifteen minutes before. Melanie was bent over, as if she was looking at the plans, or would know what they meant. Phillip was looking at her cleavage. He could see all the way to her navel, and his prick was stiff as a board.

"We're back," called out Roberta, gaily. "Let the party begin!"

She poured wine, and told Phillip to turn on the stereo. He hustled over to the machine. It was obvious he hadn't chosen any music while they were gone. He sorted through CDs, rejecting some, and selecting others.

"Fast or slow?" he called.

"Both," said Jeff. Melanie shot him a glance, but then smiled. He wondered what that meant.

The first selection was fast, and before it had gone fifteen seconds, Jeff knew that Melanie was trying to make her breasts "pop out", as she had put it. They did, or at least the right one did. She giggled cutely and put it back, only to gyrate even harder, until it happened again. Jeff looked at Roberta, who was frowning. She saw him looking, and her frown turned to a smile. He wondered what that meant too.

When that song was done, Melanie giggled some more and said: "I guess slow would be better. This dress isn't cooperating." She drained her wine glass. Roberta filled it again.

It only took two more songs, and Phillip took the bait.

"Might I beg for a dance with your lovely wife?" he asked Jeff.

"If I might dance with YOUR lovely wife," said Jeff gallantly.

That turned out to be something they hadn't thought clearly about. While neither Jeff nor Roberta minded if the other two danced as closely as possible, they hadn't realized what being in each others arms would be like, in this situation.

The first thing Roberta said, into Jeff's ear, when they started dancing was "You want me?... over her!?" Jeff wanted to do was put his hands on Roberta's buttocks. He stopped himself, just in time. He whispered back: "Yes." She ground her hips against his, and then pulled back, blushing. Both of them wanted to kiss each other. In the process, they almost didn't pay any attention to the others.

It wouldn't have mattered.

Melanie had her eyes closed, with her hands on Phillip's shoulders. His were on her back, sliding slowly up and down the exposed skin there. She could feel the expensive weave of his suit coat against the skin of her chest. What he'd spent for that suit would buy ten of the kind Jeff wore.

Phillip's face was in Melanie's hair, and he wasn't looking at his wife. He was too busy feeling the hot, soft orbs pressing into his chest, so much different than what he felt when his wife danced with him. He had gone soft, dancing with Roberta, but was hard again now. Melanie didn't seem to mind shoving her breasts against him, but he was trying not to press his boner against her. When he accidentally brushed her with it, during a turn, she didn't jerk back, or say anything. Her hands moved on his shoulders, just a little, almost a stroke. When the song ended, both were breathing hard.

"That was nice," she said, looking up at him with wide, blue eyes.

He wasn't sure... it could have been his imagination... but it almost felt like she shoved her hips forward... just a little... as she said it.

Two songs later, it was Jeff who suggested that they switch partners again. He and Roberta made sure they talked about teacher things, loudly enough to be overheard, during that dance. When it was over, Roberta said "Go ahead again, we're still talking."

It was obvious that there was significant chemistry between the two unsuspecting spouses. Phillip's hands dipped lower and lower, toward the but crack that Melanie was displaying, and which, along with the diamond cut-outs on her sides, suggested that, besides not wearing a bra, she wasn't wearing panties either. That he had an erection was plain to her, and it was just as plain to him that she didn't mind, as her loins continually bounced against his. She swayed, too, so that her big breasts rubbed against his jacket. In the middle of the song, he broke away from her, took his jacket and tie off, and then resumed dancing. Her nipples had grown, and now he could feel those through his shirt.

It was at that point, with things going perfectly, according to plan, that the plan ran out of steam. Jeff and Roberta had paid particular attention to getting things this far. But that's where they hadn't been able to extend the plan any farther. Now that the scene was set... the play was unfinished. In any normal scenario, they could only dance so long, and then the spouses would retire to separate bedrooms... and the party would be over. Jeff and Roberta didn't want the party to be over, but they hadn't figured out any way to move things forward either. The last thing Roberta had said was "We'll figure something out."

It was the thought of that, that galvanized Jeff, and made him... improvise.

When the song ended, he let go of Roberta, and went to the other couple, who were still pressed together. Phillip looked at him, and with a crooked smile, said "Your wife is a divine dancer."

"I wouldn't know," said Jeff. "She doesn't dance with me like that."

A flicker of alarm flashed into Phillip's eyes, and he pulled away from Melanie, his heart accelerating, as adrenaline was produced in is body.

"Let's talk about that, for a second," said Jeff, leaving his arms hanging at his sides. "It seems, that while we were at that seminar that we attended, that Roberta and I fell in love. We didn't mean to, but it happened. It's real, and we're both interested in pursuing a quiet, civilized divorce, and getting married to each other."

You could have heard a pin drop.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Phillip's voice was low, and harsh. He looked at Roberta, who was standing wide-eyed, four or five feet away. This hadn't been part of the plan.

"He's telling the truth," she said, her voice soft. "I want a divorce. You don't love me. You only think of business. When you danced with Melanie... you haven't held me like that in as long as I can remember."

Phillip looked at the woman at is elbow. She was frowning. Even frowning she made his prick hard. But that didn't matter. What mattered was alimony, and the expense of divorce lawyers, and the possible damage to his reputation. If he couldn't control his wife, people would assume he couldn't control their money either.

"That's ridiculous," he snorted. "You can't have a divorce. I won't stand for it!" he blustered. He thought of something. "And even if you tried, I'd win. You just admitted you had an affair with this man! You'd get nothing! You'd be lucky to leave here with the clothes on your back," he snarled.

"Even when I show the judge the pictures of you and Cynthia, having sex?" she asked. Her voice sounded nervous, and with good cause. Cynthia was his secretary, and there were no pictures. There was only her suspicion... firm belief... that he had been cheating on her with Cynthia. Still, her belief was so strong, it allowed her to bluff.

"What are you talking about?" his voice sounded hollow.

"I hired a private investigator," she said, her voice stronger now. "After I smelled her perfume all over your clothes. I have pictures, Phillip."

Phillip, knowing that he was boffing his secretary long, deep, and continuous, had no trouble believing that there might be documentation, even though he thought he'd been discreet. He tried throwing himself on Roberta's mercy.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said, his voice choking with emotion. "It was just that once, and I was gone from home - I missed you so much - and she seduced me."

The shock of hearing confirmation of what she believed, but didn't want to believe, snapped something in Roberta.

"I have three sets of pictures, Phillip," she said forcefully, calling his bluff, with even more bluffing of her own. "In three different places, Phillip! They offered me more, but I said three sets should be enough!" she almost yelled.

Phillip looked around, and sat in a nearby chair.

"But honey, this could ruin us!" he moaned.

"Don't you 'honey' me, you bastard!" she yelled. "Just let me go. I don't want anything. You can keep your precious money. You'll still be a millionaire by the time you're fucking thirty!" She was crying now, and Jeff couldn't help but go to her. He took her in his arms, and looked at Melanie. She was still frowning, but hadn't said anything, thus far.

He wondered what THAT meant too.

"I can't divorce you," she suddenly blurted.

"Sure you can," said Jeff. "You don't even live with me any more. I don't know why you married me in the first place, Mel."

"You don't love me either!" she said harshly. "If you did, you'd come work for Daddy, and we could live like people SHOULD live!"

"You know I love teaching," said Jeff. "You knew I was going to be a teacher when you married me! I thought we were getting married because we loved each other... not how we were going to live."

"You don't understand!" she said, getting loud. "I CAN'T get a divorce!"

"Help me understand," he said. "You could have any man you want."

"I can have any man I want," she agreed, "but I can't get my inheritance if I get a divorce."

"What inheritance?" asked Jeff, confused. "You never told me about any inheritance."

That's when it all came out. She explained it all, even though she wouldn't have, unless she had to. She even told him about the secret pictures of her cousins, breaking the agreement by fucking around, trying to make him understand how much money was involved.

"Don't you see, Jeff? All we have to do is stay married for six more years and we'll be ROLLING in money!" Her nipples were spiked again, and one areola was clearly showing, because she was breathing so hard, thinking of all that lovely money.

"I don't want the money," said Jeff. "All I want is Roberta."

Both Melanie and Phillip, who was breathing pretty hard too, and whose mouth was literally watering at the thought of all that money, stared at Jeff like he'd sprouted another eyeball, maybe in his forehead.