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Rough

By: whores Master



"I can't believe I've wasted so much time on a cunt like you."

He walked around her, and glared down at her.

"You're just a tease aren't you?"

She squirmed uneasily in her chair as he continued. She could see the outline of his cock down the leg of his jeans. She stared at him as he taunted her. Then he fished his big cock out and held out directly in front of her, slowly stroking the length. 

"Get the hell out of here. Go home to your husband or boyfriend. He will be nice to you and kiss your ass, bitch. I know you have him pussy whipped and I don't think I want to waste my time on you. If I fucked you, I'd probably never be able to get rid of you anyway."

She stood up nervously and started to take a step, but he grabbed her arm roughly and threw her back down in the chair, laughing maniacally.

Now she was frightened.

He moved closer to her and held his cock next to her face. 

"Touch it. See what a real cock feels like."

She sat motionless.

Slap. He slapped his cock against her cheek. She drew back, surprised.

Slap. Slap. Slap. He slapped her again and again and again. She felt her face getting flushed. She was still frightened, but she also was becoming strangely excited. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she felt a tingling in her pussy. Her stomach was nervous.

He laughed as he stared at her. "Touch it," he ordered again. She hesitated. Slap. Again his cock hit her cheek.

She looked up and pleaded, "Please don't. I just want to leave. I won't say a word to anyone if you just let me leave now."

"OK, then leave," he hissed.

She rose and again he threw her back. This time he grabbed her face and held it tight as he kissed her. She kept her lips tightly closed as he pressed his mouth against hers. He tried to stick his tongue into her mouth without success. He then licked her lips and all across her cheeks, leaving his wet saliva on her. 

"Touch it."

She slowly reached to touch it. Her fingers rubbed across the head. It felt soft. She rubbed the shaft. It was warm and stiff. Her hand closed around it and she slowly moved to the base. She pulled her hands back up the shaft slowly and then held his cock, tightening her grip. She could feel his blood pulsing through. Throbbing and alive. It felt hot in her hand.

Her face was hot too. She felt disoriented and flushed. She looked up at him and he watched her expression.

"Stroke it faster," he ordered. 

She complied. Now both of her hands held his cock and stroked and squeezed it. She reached under and cupped his balls and fondled them, even without being told to.

She tried to squeeze her legs tighter together. She wanted some more pressure against her pussy. She needed to touch it so badly. 

He pulled his cock back. She sat waiting. He kissed her again, and this time she opened her mouth slightly, enough to encourage him to kiss her harder. He pressed his lips hard against hers and she gradually opened her mouth for him. She passively let him kiss and tongue her.

He stopped and stood back.

"Stand up" he said. 

She stood. He looked into her eyes as he placed his hands on her breasts. She shivered at the first touch and drew back a little. He pinched her nipples through her clothing. They were hard and were easy to find, even through the bra and shirt. He pinched them harder to test her reaction.

She stood motionless. Her heart raced and she was nervously excited as he squeezed and felt her tits for the first time. He stopped and reached down and rubbed her crotch hard through her jeans. She wanted that touch so much then. He could feel her push back slightly against his hand. Not in resistance, but in response.

He continued to rub her, and she soon was thrusting her pelvis out to his hand. Her eyes were glazed as he worked on her. 

"Unfasten your jeans," he said. 

She undid the belt, unsnapped the button, lowered the zipper, and let them fall to the floor.

He touched her panties. They were soaked. He laughed as he looked at her. He rubbed her harder now, taunting her and teasing her.

"So you like this, do you?" he asked. 

She didn't answer. He grabbed her hair and pulled her forward.

"Answer me, bitch, when I ask you something. Let's try again, now. Do you like this?"

"Yes."

He laughed, and then rubbed her harder, pushing his fingers roughly between her lips and slightly inside. She spread her legs to take them. 

"Take your shirt off. I want to see your tits."

She undid the buttons, removed the shirt lowered the bra straps and lifted her tits our about the cups. Her nipples were erect. "Play with them," he said.

She cupped her breasts and squeezed and fondled them. Her thumbs rolled across her nipples as she pushed and bent them over and around. Her nipples stiffened even more. Her heart raced faster as she played with her tits for him, and as he fingered her hot pussy. 

"You are a slut, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes, I guess I am," she replied. 

"Too bad he can't see you now, isn't it?" he asked.

She had almost forgotten about him, but now the reminder of her real life excited her even more. She had some need to live a little on the edge. To do something forbidden and risky. Something that could end in disaster if things went wrong. 

Damn, this fit all of those requirements. She almost couldn't breathe as she realized what she was doing. She wondered in her mind how far she would really go.

She played with her tits harder and more boldly. She looked at him defiantly, daring him. He saw that look and ripped her panties down and immediately stuffed two fingers deep inside her. 

She moaned as they sank deep up into her. She lunged to him and kissed his mouth, thrusting her tongue deep inside, kissing and sucking his tongue. 

She released her tits and grabbed his cock, stroking it frantically with both hands. She tried to guide it to her hot open cunt, but he held back.

"Slow down. You don't get this yet."

She was surprised, and kept trying. He pulled his cock away. "We do what I want," he said.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Show me how bad you want my cock. Make me want to fuck you. Beg me."

She knew how to tease. She knew the head tilt, the look, the hair toss, the leg cross, the forward lean...all of the manipulative little ways to keep men watching and wanting her. She had even gone so far as to slowly strip, showing her breasts and panties and pussy on cam for others. She knew that excitement well.

So she used all of her wiles and skill on him, and she was emboldened and was soon rubbing her pussy for him and opening it for his approval. She imagined herself in the sluttiest positions she could, and this drove her on. 

She excited herself as she excited him. He stroked his cock as he watched and they urged each other on. faster and harder they played and teased, and soon he stood up before her.

"I am going to fuck you so hard now," he said.

"Yes," was her reply.

Rough & In Control



Some of the fun of taking pussy doggy style is control. Now it may not seem romantic to you in the sense of being able to look into your lovers’ eyes and watch her cum but there is just so much territory, in that position, to play with. We had been sleeping like spoons when she woke me backing up on my dick and starting a humping motion. After a while I lifted her leg and slid the head of my dick along her wet slit eliciting a gasp and a groan from her. Her thighs and pussy lips were already creamy. We humped like this for a while building excitement as she became slicker and just flat out soaked. Her pussy’s lips grabbing at me I slid myself about halfway in. Pushing her forward I bent her at the waist and grabbed a nipple between thumb and forefinger. Slamming her hot wet cunt I also pulled on her nipple teasing and stretching as I am pounding. Now this bitch loves to have her nipples pulled so I buried my dick balls deep and reached under her and grabbed her other nipple too. I am bouncing off of her cervix and yanking on her nipples. I am happy. She is delirious. In this position I have access not only to her nipples but her back and her very spankable ass. A few swats on her butt, enough to get it hot pink and…Shit! I am getting hard writing as I remember this.

Keeping her on her side like that for another position I like is fun also. On both knees I slip into her while she lies in an almost fetal position. The full but sideways penetration of her ass or pussy is easily allowed while my hands are free to spank or tweak or caress her body as she need. Especially on her very sensitive nipples. Pulling on them I tell her I am stretching them down to her knees. She loves the thought and the stretching she receives. Having her nipples roughly played with in this manner is the same way I like my dick played with when I am being sucked off. We do this 69 thing with her on top. She sucks as much of me into her mouth as she can, while she is chewing on it with both hands wrapped around my shaft as she twists them in opposite directions. Like I said I like it rough and so does she. I want to feel what I am doing and not just be tickled. At the same time I have at least three or four fingers in her pussy and three or four of the other hand in her asshole, while I suck and lick her clit very hard. Stretching her asshole wide open with both thumbs is cool with her and sometimes I can find a little piece of shit in her and wiggling it, with my finger creates a sensation in her that drives her wild. You might think we are nasty. We are just enjoying what makes us happy and that is why they make soap! The butt is so neglected in sex play.

After enough stimulation she is fucking her clit and pussy on my face as my fingers flex and stroke her insides. My dick is down her throat, of her own accord and need. She is pulling on my balls stretching the sac to its fullest. I am fucking her throat like this as she begins a building, moaning wail. That loud moan really feels good on my dick as I fuck her throat and she starts to cum. Her orgasm is massive and she rocks and humps my face as I continue working her asshole and cunt in and out with my fingers. The thing I think that is really getting her off is the way I am licking the shit out of her clit. I am strumming it back and forth very hard and very fast and her orgasm is a series of one after another building and building until she loses all control and tries to get off of me. I won’t let her. Clutching her ass cheeks with both hands I suck on her clit pulling it into my mouth and working it with my tongue. Hooking one ankle over the back of her neck I force her to continue sucking my dick while she is howling out her cums. We are one sweating, writhing, fucking, cumming machine.

I am fortunate to have found this hot little bitch for my pleasure and for hers tool. We like what each other does to each other. She enjoys being treated rough and I have found most women do too, if you work up to it. Now, gentle is fine to. Gentle is good. Gentle can incite the fires that grow to rough. Come on now has anyone ever had bad sex? Yeah, I guess that is possible but if you take the time to play with her and find out what she likes it will be o.k. In our sex play she is a whore, cunt, slut, and cocksucker and enjoys the use of these terms. There is no disrespect here. They are all words that really heighten her arousal. If I disrespected her I could not fuck her. This one is very tactile sensitive also and enjoys being rubbed, spanked and caressed. Working her is almost like molding clay. Most of all she loves the way I can make her cum. It is not all about slamming my “massive dong” into her “tight twat” and shooting “massive loads of joy juice”. Hell, sometimes I don’t shoot a drop but did I enjoy my time with her. Did you really have to ask? When you fuck as much as I do there is not much “joy juice” left to go around. 



Rough and Quick



I hope you had a good day, honey. Because if not? You're going to get fucked up.

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Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (4.5 min/mp3)

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Rough and Ready



Thanks to the Hip and Knee doctor for editing assistance.

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Rough and Ready



"You were quite a sight, all covered in snow and ice. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. It wasn't my intent."

"Oh no. It was a good thing. Any discomfort you had, gave me leverage, so that I could get you to help me. I am devious that way."

Tom couldn't help but to smile at the brassiness of his table guest. The waitress brought two coffees and they sat, silently, watching the two boys load the cycle on the trailer, as if they had done it a hundred times before. It was equipped to carry dirt bikes and ATV's, so getting the small Harley fastened down was a breeze. Ten minutes later, the two boys came in, and Bradley returned the keys to Tracey. He seemed proud of himself and the lady in distress noticed.

"Okay Bradley. Now get the Jeep warmed up so we can get out of here."

By the time Tom and Tracey got out to the car, Greg had all the snow cleared from the windows, and the inside was starting to get warm. Tracey gave the bike tie downs a quick visual check, before settling down in the shotgun seat. She held her helmet on her lap with the goggles and gloves inside. 

For the most part, the roads in this area were usually clear, so there were no teams of snowplows available. By noon tomorrow it would all be gone, except for small patches that lay in the perpetual shaded areas. Tom kept his speed down and avoided braking, the best he could. Just as he expected, both motels had 'No Vacancy' signs flashing out front.

Tom pulled over to the side of the road. The snow was still coming down, a bit slower but the flakes were larger. "Where were you trying to get to?"

"I have an Uncle in Rough and Ready. I don't exactly know where his place is, and I am not even sure he is there. In fact, I don't even have his phone number. I figured somebody up there could help me find him."

"Well Rough and Ready is about four miles West of here, and our place is four miles East of here, in Nevada City. Under the circumstances, I think it will be better to go to our place. We have plenty of room and you would be more than welcome. Tomorrow, or the next day, we can help you find your uncle."

"Are you sure I wouldn't be imposing? Will your wife mind?"

"No wife to worry about. I even think we might have some dry clothes for you."

Tom couldn't help but notice that his sons were both sporting big grins. Suddenly he realized that he was smiling also. His guest also noticed.

Ten minutes later, Tracey was watching her host make coffee in his rustic cabin. It wasn't rustic in a romantic way, but it was cozy. She was trying to clean herself up a little, without making too big a mess on the large, hand knitted, rag-rug. Her socks were wet, so she slipped them off and laid them over the boots she had set by the door. By that time, Tom had got the hot coals in the fireplace started again, and small flickers of fire were starting to rise up. She moved closer to wait for the impending warmth to come. The lack of conversation between the two of them was just starting to become noticeable, when the door burst open. 

"Your bike is in the shed." Bradley seemed proud of himself. It appeared that he wanted to say more, but couldn't think of anything. Tracey was pleasantly amused by his discomfort. Both boys shed their jackets and left their boots by the door, before coming up to the fireplace. 

"I got some milk warming up for cocoa. Why don't you go see if you can dig out some dry clothes for our guest? There should be some sweats, or something like that, in the green trunk in the attic." It was the first thing Tom had said since they entered the cabin. "Find some slippers or warm socks too."

There was no hesitation, as the boys raced to the area off the master bedroom that was used for storage. "What would you like first: hot coffee or a hot shower?"

"The shower wins, hands down. I think I'll enjoy the coffee more, after I get warmed up."

The water was hot and Tracey enjoyed it for far longer than usual. The last part of her trip was rough, and she was just starting to feel it. The steaming warmth made everything better. As she stepped out of the shower, she noticed that all of her clothing was gone. It had been replaced with a set of olive-green sweats, and some wool socks. On top of an oversized towel was a no frills hair dryer. She felt bad about monopolizing the bathroom, but it seemed to take forever for her hair to get dry. She appreciated the attention and was glad that they had not offered any used underwear to go with the other items. The sweat pants were a little short, but they did the job.

Bradley and Greg insisted that Tracey sit on the couch, between them. Tom had a mug of fresh coffee in her hands, before she got settled. 

"Your clothing is in the washer. It should be dried and ready to wear within the hour. Sorry for sneaking them out of the bathroom while you were in there, but it seemed like the practical thing to do, under the circumstances. I didn't know what to do with the leather stuff, so I just hung them over some chairs."

For the next two hours, Tracey was bombarded with questions from Bradley and Greg. Where did she come from? Where was she going? Was she married? How long was she going to stay? How old was she? Why wasn't she married? It seemed to go on forever, but in a good way. It was like playing a game of twenty questions. Tracey was able to get in a few questions of her own, mostly directed at the boys, but some of them geared to give her a clue or insight into her host. She carefully avoided asking about the boy's mother. Tom sat to the side, watching the game, but not participating. 

"Okay. Guys. That's enough of the interrogation. Get ready for bed and give the poor lady a break."

Reluctantly, they started to leave the room. "One last question - how do you like your eggs?" Bradley was beaming.

"I usually have fruit for breakfast, but if all you have is eggs, then scrambled is fine."

With the lads gone, the atmosphere in the room became a little more casual. Tom took the empty cup from Tracey. "This is the last of it. Should I make more?"

"Not on my account. I had plenty, and to be honest, I think I am ready for bed myself." 

The dryer had long finished its job, so Tom carefully folded the cotton undergarments, long johns, and socks, and placed them beside her on the couch. "We can find some more appropriate clothes in the morning. It's my wife's old stuff, but some of it should fit you, if you don't mind wearing used stuff."

"I take it from the sweat pants, that she wasn't very tall."

Tom just smiled at her remark, and led her down the short hallway to the master bedroom. "I'll take the sofa. You need the bed after that ride." Tracey was in no mood to argue the point with him. She smiled, said "good night.", and closed the door. 

It always feels odd to wake up in an unfamiliar house. Tracey felt the dampness and the lost heat as she got out of bed. A musty smell lingered, which cams from the remains of the fire that died out sometime in the middle of the night. The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee quickly replaced the other, less pleasant ones. The first thing she noticed as she entered the living room was the new fire starting up on top of the dead coals in the fireplace. The next thing, was the smiling faces of the three male bodies sitting at the pine slab kitchen table. She felt slightly embarrassed at the attention, but also a little flattered.

Tom put down a mug of coffee as Bradley placed half of a cantaloupe in front of the seat that had apparently been designated as the one she was supposed to use.

"Good Morning." The sound came in unison from all three of them.

Tracey smiled and nodded to the group. "The melon is nice. I wasn't expecting it."

"Bradley was up early and went down to the market to get it. He also got a honeydew just in case." Tom looked a little different this morning. The five o'clock shadow was gone and the flannel shirt looked new or at least freshly ironed. 

"I didn't think the stores would be open this early."

Bradley jumped into the conversation with a little juvenile pride. "They weren't open, but I went in the back with the milk delivery man. Mister Springer let me have the melons when I told him it was a special occasion."

"Very clever and I appreciate it."

"I wiped down your Harley. I got all the slush out of the spokes and blew everything clean with the air gun. It's ready to go, if you need it." Greg seemed happy to have something to contribute to the seduction scene.

Tracey was just getting a start on her breakfast when the school bus let out a short blast. They each grabbed a knapsack and as they headed out the door, Bradley turned. "You are going to be here when we get home aren't you?"

She just smiled and nodded in the affirmative.

After the boys left, Tracey and Tom found themselves sitting in silence. Tom was having an English muffin with honey on it. Tracey was smiling to herself, amused at her host's mild discomfort. She didn't want to appear forward or aggressive, but felt it was necessary to say something to put him at ease.

"Did you say that you might have some more appropriate clothing for me? I am not too anxious to put that leather stuff back on."

"No problem. I assume you won't mind wearing something used. It belonged to my wife. Some of it might fit, but as you said, she was a good bit shorter than you are. I washed it before I packed it away, so it is all clean."

There was an attic/storage room combination off the master bedroom. It was unheated, but dry. Tom showed her the two large steamer trucks, and left her alone to root though them. Twenty minutes later, Tracey had an armload of miscellaneous items that she felt she could be comfortable with. Tom seemed pleased that she had been able to find anything at all. All she needed now was some practical shoes that fit. 

The snow was already starting to melt. It would only take a couple of hours and all that would be left were small patches that were in the areas that got no sun. 

"Tracey, I don't know your last name, and I don't feel that I know you well enough to use your first name. What would you prefer to be called?"

"Tracey is fine. My last name is McMann."

"Okay, Tracey it is. I answer to Tom."

"Tom, I really appreciate all that you and the boys have done, but it's time for me to move on. I'll get these clothes back to you as soon as I can. Right now I need to find a place to stay."

"We can take the jeep downtown and see what is available, and pick up some shoes at the same time." Tom didn't really want her to go. Anne's clothing covered Tracey's body, but that was all you could say. Even though she looked a little like a bag lady, Tom thought she was still pretty cute. Cute was not a good word to describe her, but it was a word that Tom wanted to fit. If he thought of Tracey as gorgeous or beautiful, he would be too intimidated to even talk to her. She had to be cute. That was the only thing that would work for now.

The sun was bright and the sky was clear as they walked to the car. It was quite a contrast from the previous day. The bell-bottom jeans that Tracey wore were a little short, but since the waist was a little large, it evened out. Luckily, the sweater covered her exposed mid-section. Not that there was anything wrong with her torso, but she felt better not showing it to the world. She was looking forward to getting a replacement for the biker boots.

It was only a short drive to town. "Are you sure you wouldn't be better off staying with us? The boys and I would love to have the company. "

Tracey had to admit that she felt comfortable with the Henderson brood, but staying there any longer might get complicated. She smiled at the offer Tom made while she was trying to think of a graceful way to turn him down. The big problem was, that she wasn't really sure that she wanted to refuse.

"I'll make a deal with you. If I can't find my Uncle, or he is not available, I'll consider staying with you guys a while longer." 

Things were quiet for a few minutes. "I might be a while picking up a few things. Could you drive down to Rough and Ready, in the mean time, and see if anyone knows where Tanner might be?"

"Do you have an address or phone number?"

"I have nothing except his name, Tanner McMann, and that it is somewhere in the Rough and Ready area."

"Oh look, Tom! Can you drop me off there?" The building was old, but the sign out front was new. 'Sierra Outfitters' was just what Tracey was hoping to find.

"Are you sure? The boys and I went in there right after it opened. They have good stuff, but it is expensive as hell. Some guy from San Francisco took over the building about six months ago."

As she jumped out of the Jeep, Tom waved and yelled. "I'll be back in about an hour. Is that Okay?"

"Make it two."

The store was perfect. It was Cabela's mixed with Land's End. Tracey was going to be right at home. The selection was small, but exactly what she needed.

"Good morning. Can I help you?" There was no doubt in Tracey's mind: that this guy was from San Francisco. She wasn't the type of person that stereotyped anyone, but this was obvious, and a pleasant surprise. She would not have to endure the discomfort of having to deal with a patronizing gawker.

"I think I need a cart."

"Hi. I'm Lance and I am your personal cart." He held out his arms and smiled, but not in a smart way.

She liked Lance, but didn't believe it was his real name. Nobody would name his or her kid Lance. "Okay, lets get started. First of all, I need some parkour shoes."

"I have a nice selection of Ariake's on the side wall. I am sure we will be able to find something that will work for you."

That was the beginning of a great shopping spree. By the time the two hours was up, Tracey had accumulated an impressive pile of goodies. She had a complete wardrobe and a few extra items that she could not resist. During that time, she got Lance to admit that his real name was Brian.

He moved from the city when his mother had a stroke. Brian had a partner who was a practical nurse and was helping with her, while Brian ran the store. He missed the lifestyle he had to leave behind, but he was glad to be home. 

The bill came to over four thousand dollars. Good stuff costs money. Tracey was pulling out her American Express Card, when she had a sudden fear. If there were somebody looking for her, they would definitely have a way of tracking her credit card usage. She paused for a moment before handing the card over.

"Is there a problem, Miss McMann?"

"You know who I am? Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't think it was necessary or appropriate. If something is wrong I would be glad to help."

The offer to help was appreciated, but Tracey couldn't actually pin down the type of help she needed. She noticed Tom parking the jeep and now felt forced to come up with a quick solution. Before she could say anything, Brian spoke up. "You don't have to pay for these things right now. Take them with you and pay me when it is convenient.

"Are you sure?"

"Miss McMann, I have no doubt that you will be good for the merchandise. 

"Are you about done?" Tom wasn't being pushy or being a smart-ass. The inquiry was presented in a humorous way, as he looked at the large pile of packages. Brian and Tom nodded to each other, but said nothing. 

"Would you mind taking these to the car while I pay for them?"

""No problem." Tom grabbed an armload, but it was going to take him several trips. When he was out of earshot, Tracey took a piece of paper and wrote down a number for Brian. "Call this guy in San Francisco and have him bring you ten thousand dollars in cash as soon as possible. I'll pick it up here at the store. Don't mention my name. It won't be necessary. Please, don't tell anyone that you saw me."

Brian smiled at the intrigue of the whole situation. He was flattered that Tracey McMann would trust him with the task. 

As she turned to pick up some bundles, Brian handed her a business card. "I am not trying to butt into your business, but if you are trying to stay incognito, I suggest a new hair style and dye job." The card was for a beauty shop nearby. "Discretion is guaranteed." He added.

Tracey nodded a silent 'thank you' as she and Tom exited with the last of the bags. 

"I am sorry, but I got carried away. Your wife's things were nice enough, but these will fit and feel better. I would also feel bad if what I was wearing reminded you of her." 

Tom had found the house where Tanner McMann lived. He was on a weeklong trip to Mount Shasta, fishing for brook trout. Tanner loved the mountains and catching native brookies was a challenge that he thrived on. Tom got his information from the housekeeper, but he wasn't sure if she was being straight with him. After a couple of burgers, they drove to Rough and Ready, so that Tracey could see for herself.

Tom parked on a seemingly deserted section of the road. On the right side, about 100 yards away, on top of an uphill slope was a large stone lodge. It was partially hidden by a grove of pine trees. The driveway leading up the hill was graveled and grown over. It was not inhospitable, but it wasn't open to the world either. As they approached the house, it seemed to grow larger. It was definitely bigger than a single old man needed. Tracey smiled at the ambience that seemed to contradict everything else she knew about Uncle Tanner. It was a beautiful house.

Before they reached the front porch, the door opened and a middle aged lady emerged. She had on jeans and a flannel shirt, which didn't seemed to go with her gray hair and hefty body. 

"Well, I declare. If it isn't Tracey McMann. Tanner will be excited to see you."

Tracey had no idea who this woman was, and was still trying to figure it out as they were escorted into the main room. "My friend tells me that Tanner is not here. Do you have any idea when he will be back?" 

"Sit! Would you like something to drink?" The furniture was all made out of pine logs with multi-colored cushions. Indian blankets were hung on the walls, like pictures. It looked like the inside of a Bonanza movie set. It was Tanner all the way. Tracey and Tom both shook their heads 'no' to the drink offer.

"I am sorry. I did not introduce myself. I am Sarah, Sarah Weiser. I guess you could say I am Tanners life partner."

"Life partner?"

Sarah let out a little laugh and looked a little embarrassed at Tracey's attempt to get her to explain her relationship with her Uncle. 

"It's a complicated story. Lets just say that I cook, clean house, do laundry, and provide companionship in exchange for room and board."

Tracey quickly realized what the situation was and found it humorous. She was happy for Tanner and it looked like she should be happy for his new playmate also.

"He has lots of pictures of you, and brags about you all the time."

Tracey couldn't help but to be a little embarrassed at the comment, especially, since she made it in front of Tom.

"Tanner left four days ago to go trout fishing. He should be back in the next few days."

"He is at Mt Shasta?"

"No. He is up around Paxton. I just tell people Mt Shasta because nobody knows where Paxton is. Sorry about that." Sarah gave Tom a wink. Tracey noticed that he seemed to blush a little.

"I assume he doesn't take a cell phone with him."

"You know your uncle well. Leave me a number, and I'll have him contact you when he gets back. Are you staying in the area?"

Tracey wrote down her cell number on a pad Sarah offered, and then pushed it over to Tom. "Maybe your house phone number would be good also." Looking back at Sarah, Tracey sheepishly said, " I'll be staying with Mister Henderson for the next couple of days. He has a small place in Nevada City, so I will be close."




Rough and Ready



As if on cue, they all rose up to leave. "I hope you and Mister Henderson can join us for dinner after Tanner gets back."

"No problem, Sarah. We would love to." 

Tracey noticed that Tom was smiling to himself on the short walk back to the jeep. "What is so funny Mister Tom?"

"Nothing important. It's just that you made it sound as if we were a couple. I thought that was cute."

He was right, but she didn't have a reply for that.

"I am glad to decided to stay, by the way."

They were almost back to Grass Valley, when Tracey pulled the card out that Brian had given her.

"Can you drop me off at the 'Triple Cut'? I think it's near the place I got my clothes."

"I know where it is. How long will you be?" 

"Probably a couple of hours. Can I call you?"

"Bradley will be home from school by then. I'll send him to pick you up. He'll like that."

Bradley and Greg were waiting outside the 'Triple Cut' when Tracey came out. At first he didn't recognize her. It wasn't the new clothes, but the short haircut with an auburn tint. She jumped into the front seat and buckled up. "Do you like my new look?" 

Greg wasn't saying anything and Bradley seemed at a loss for words. "Before, you looked sort of sexy, now, you look more like a mom."

"Is that good?"

Greg finally jumped in. "I think you look like a sexy mom."

"That's not what I was going for, but thanks anyhow."

The roads were clean and dry on the ride back to the Henderson place, but it was easy to see that the ground was still mushy and slippery. Any parkour workout would have to wait a few days. Tracey hadn't spent much time with kids of any age or gender and had no idea how to start a conversation. She usually handled herself pretty well in social situations, but she was out of her element here.

Tom Henderson was off to the side of the cabin when they got back, splitting wood. On one side of him were several truckloads of cut logs dumped in piles. On the other side were neatly stacked piles of split wood. The three of them walked onto the porch. Bradley noticed the interest that Tracey was showing. 

"He has been like that since mom left."

"What do you mean?" She was dying to know what happened to Tom's wife.

"He has OCD." Greg couldn't help adding to the conversation as he entered the cabin. Tracey and Bradley sat on the porch steps. 

"Greg and I used to split and stack all the firewood. One day, after mom left, dad told use that he would do it all from now on. All we had to do was make sure that there was dry wood by the fireplace. Some days he is out here until after dark, splitting wood. He doesn't even come in for supper. At first he had really bad blisters, but now his hands are all hard and gnarly. He never seems to get tired."

"That's a lot of wood."

"There is ten times that much behind the cabin. We have enough wood split to last us for five years, and yet he keeps on going. We have a hard time paying the bills sometimes, but he keeps having more truck loads of logs delivered."

"That's a lot of anger." She seemed to see a relationship between the split wood and Tom's animosity towards his wife.

Tom saw Bradley and Tracey sitting on the porch. He had a good rhythm going, and didn't want to quit, however, he decided it might be better for him to try and hide his obsession. He was hoping it wasn't too late.

"I like your new hair." She was flattered because there was a great deal of sincerity in what he said. It is not what she was looking for, but it was appreciated. 

"I'll start the chili." Bradley seemed anxious to leave Tracey and his dad alone.

"He does most of the cooking. It's not really good, but it fills the belly." 

"I have only been here a day and two people have already recognized me. I felt it was necessary to change my appearance somewhat."

"I don't want to be nosy, but why would you have to do that?"

At this point, Tracey did not see a reason not to share a little bit of her problem with her host

"There were some nasty people trying to take over my father's company. In order to do that, they had to serve me with some kind of legal paper. I came here for two reasons: to avoid being served and to get my Uncle Tanner to help me. He helped start the company with my dad, years ago. I guess you could say that, I am hiding out."

"Sounds intriguing. It must be nice to have a little excitement in your life."

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

"You smell terrible. I think you better take a shower before supper."

He laughed at her impudence. "You're right. I promise to smell like an Irish leprechaun by suppertime."

While Tom showered, Tracey removed all of the tags and labels from her new clothes. He had emptied out a whole dresser for her use, far more than was necessary. There was a new toothbrush and hairbrush on top of the dresser. She felt welcome.

The highlight of the evening came after supper from Greg. "You said last night that you were a 'traceuse.' Either I can't spell it or it, or is not in the dictionary. What is a traceuse?"

"It's French. You do have a computer don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Look it up in the computer and then come back and tell me what it is." Tracey and Tom were alone before they knew it, as the boys raced to the computer.

"Wow. You are like a tricky school teacher."

"That's not how Greg described me earlier."

"Should I be embarrassed by something my son said?"

"No, of course not. He said I looked like a sexy mom when I came out of the hairdressers."

"Well, I do apologize. You are not old enough to be a mom."

"You cad. That's not the part you are supposed to apologize for."

"Sorry, but if you want honesty, that is the best I can do."

Things were quiet for a few moments. Tom filled the coffee cups and noticed that Tracey was smiling.

"I know it is none of my business, but can you tell me something about your wife?" Tom said nothing. It was obvious by his facial expression and body language that he did not want to discuss that subject.

"I'm sorry. It appears that I hit a sore spot. I won't bring it up again."

The silence was awkward. "That's Okay. It's difficult for me to talk about. Anne left two years ago with no explanation. I had suspected something for a while prior to that, but never anything definite. She left with a sergeant from Beale Air Force Base near Marysville. I don't know how they met. Six months later, I got a notice that she had divorced me, in Nevada. It was final and I never even knew it was coming. At least she didn't ask for anything. I never had a chance to fight it or contest it. It hurt me in three ways: she abandoned her children, she humiliated me, and she took away part of our livelihood. I make our living by writing children's books. Anne used to do all the illustrations for the stories. Now, I take out my anger and frustration everyday on the poor, dumb logs out in the back yard." 

"Have you seen or heard from her since?"

"She sends the boy's birthday cards, usually with a ten dollar bill inside. That's about it. I have no idea where she is now."

"Do you think she will come back?"

"God, I hope not." Tom started to pick up the coffee cups just as the boys returned.

"Can you teach us? Huh! Can you show us how to parkour?" Greg seemed to be more excited than Bradley, but both of them were interested.

Tracey was impressed with the newfound enthusiasm. "Did you find a list of the movements?"

As Bradley held up the printed sheet, Tracey got up from the sofa. "Tom, the boys and I need to talk for a few minutes. Could you make some fresh coffee?" Her request was answered with a smile. Anything that Tom could do to keep her happy was a number one priority. 

Tracey sat on one of the bunk beds facing her two wanna-be students. "Tonight I want you to study all the moves. Tomorrow, after school, both of you go down to Sierra Outfitters and look for Brian. Ask him for a pair of shoes for each of you and some gloves. Tell him to put it on my bill. Whatever you do, don't tell your father. Once you have the right equipment, we can get started."

Her instructions were met with a solemn silence. She glanced at both of them with a quizzical look. "What?"

"I am sorry, but Greg and I won't do anything without telling our Dad. We'd be glad to get the shoes and gloves, but we can't do it behind his back."

It all made sense. Trust was the glue keeping the family together since their mother left. Without trust, there was no family. 

"My bad. I wasn't trying to be sneaky. I was just afraid that he would not approve of my buying something like that for you. I didn't want it to look like charity or anything."

"We will do it, if he says it's Okay."

Tracey's embarrassment was interrupted by a voice from the doorway. "It's all right guys. I think it would be fine if Miss McMann got some equipment for you. Of course, I expect her to stay until you have both learned how to do all that Frenchy stuff."

Tracey was amazed at how easily Tom had taken an awkward situation and turned it into something positive. She knew now that he wanted her to stay and she wasn't unhappy about it. She felt comfortable here. She felt comfortable with Tom.

The boys high-fived each other as Tracey left the room with a big smile on her face.

"Well that was embarrassing. I apologize for trying to encourage your sons to do something behind your back. I assure you it will never happen again."

"Don't go overboard. Sometimes a little secrecy can be fun, unfortunately, this was not one of them."

"Are you mad with me?"

"Absolutely not, I am glad that you are interested enough to indulge them. They need something like that. We are slowly turning into a pretty gloomy bunch of guys."

"And what can I do to brighten up you day?"

Tom handed her a steaming cup. "Let me continue to make coffee for you, and arrange to pay you back for the shoes and gloves."

Tom and Tracey both propped their feet up on the coffee table at the same time and laughed at the coincidence. The next few moments of warm silence was finally broken when Tom asked if she wanted to watch a movie. The two of them fell asleep on the couch before it was over. It had been a busy day. 

Tracey was awakened by the giggles of the two boys in the kitchen. Somehow, she and Tom had ended up side-by-side on the couch together. With a sheepish grin of her face, she got up and made her way to the bathroom. She noticed the glee from the kitchen as she left, and realized that she was also smiling. Tom was helping the boys when she returned, and had a slightly impish expression on his face. He smiled as she sat down, but didn't say anything. A few minutes later, the school-bus horn was blowing. It was going to be another busy day in the foothills.

Tracey noticed that she and Tom seemed to function in perfect harmony within the house. The morning rituals and household tasks were completed without any awkwardness. They worked and moved together as if they had been doing it for years, and it was only the second day. The new clothes were a blessing. She carefully put the leathers and boots, away in case she needed them later.

Tom seemed a little disappointed when Tracey left the house for a run. He watched as she started down the road, as if he was worried she wouldn't come back. She glanced back and smiled to herself. She would be back and he would be smiling again. After a quarter mile she cut off into the woods. The rocks were just what she was looking for, but the ground was still mushy from the melting snow. It would be another day or two before she could bring the boys out. Today, she could scout out some places that would be good for their training and where she could also get a little workout. The rocks were dry enough that she was able to find a few great places to do different types of vaults. In twenty minutes, she was ready to work her way back to the house without returning to the road. It was a great place to work out. While she was working her way back, she was wondering who owned it. It was too rough to build on, but that's not what she wanted.

Tom was splitting wood again, when he saw her come out of the woods at the back of the property. Tracey slowed done to a walk as she crossed the clearing. He had his shirt off and she was amazed at the size of his forearms. She wondered if the constant workout had built up his heart and lungs as well as his muscles. 

"I was hoping to go down town for lunch, Mister Henderson, but it looks like we both need showers now. I don't know which of us is sweating more." Tom set down the axe and sat on his chopping stump.

"We could save time by showering together." It was the first time he had made any kind of suggestive remark. Tracey was hoping that he would loosen up a little bit, so she wasn't upset.

"If we did that, I am afraid we would never get to town." As she started towards the house, she turned with a little smile. "I appreciate the offer though." 

Tracey was just finishing her shower when she heard the phone ring. A few moments later, Tom was knocking lightly on the door. "Tracey, Sarah Weiser is on the phone. Do you want to take it, or call her back?" She didn't bother answering, but just opened the door with a towel wrapped around her wet body. Her host had a hard time hiding his sheepish grin. She was starting to enjoy teasing him, although she knew that it was no longer teasing, but foreplay. 

"Hi, Sarah. Do you have good news for me?"

"Your uncle is on his way home right now. He was hoping that you and your gentleman friend could come for lunch. Anytime between twelve and one would be fine."

"My gentleman friend and I will be there, if he doesn't take too much time in the shower." Tracey heard a slight snicker from Sarah at the other end. 

"Okay. We'll see you shortly."

Tracey clicked the phone off and smiled at Tom. "Hurry up and take your shower, because we have a luncheon date." She glanced down at the slight bulge in his trousers and smiled. "Maybe you better make that a cold one."

It was a pleasant lunch. Tanner made Tom comfortable and Sarah was the perfect hostess. Tom and Tanner chatted about nothing of any significance, while Sarah and Tracey cleared the table. As if carefully orchestrated, Sarah took Tom outside, as Tanner and Tracey retreated to the den. For the next hour Tom got a complete tour of the McMann property. It covered far more area than he ever expected and even included the property across the road. Sarah was fun to talk to and kept his attention as Tanner and his niece got down to business. Tom did not feel that he was being shut out, in fact, he was relieved that he was not drawn into whatever it was that brought Tracey to his doorstep.

All too soon, Tracey and Tanner were on the front porch. She and Tom thanked their hosts for lunch and then they left for home.

"You seem happy. I assume everything went well with your uncle."

"Everything is going to be great. My father was a better businessman than my uncle, but Tanner is a bit more ruthless. If anybody can straighten out this mess, he can."

"You know, of course, that I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Yes, and I appreciate that. You have been more than understanding and I promise to reward you for your gracious consideration."

"Wow. I always wanted to get rewarded."

Tracey was pleased with the way the relationship with Tom was going. This was not what she had planned or envisioned, but it was turning out to be fun. She was not anxious at all to get back to San Francisco. 

"Tom, I need to stop by Sierra Outfitters on the way home as well as a grocery store. I promised the boys spaghetti for supper."

Brian was all smiles as Tracey entered the shop. He quickly reached under the counter and handed her a manila envelope. 

"Your friend didn't linger too long. I tried to get him to stay for supper tonight, but he insisted that he had to get back to the city. He also said that he was afraid that he might have been followed."

"Oh shit. Is that why he left so quickly?"

"I think so. He said he was going to drive around a bit to confuse whoever was tailing him, but it might have been too late."

Tracey opened the envelope and paid Brian what she owed, plus a extra thousand to cover the boy's purchases and thank Brian for his consideration. She told him to expect the boys later in the day. Of course he was happy for the extra business and money.

It only took her about ten minutes to get the gravy started for the evening meal. "Tom, while the sauce is simmering, why don't you show me what it is that you do, or used to do, to support yourself?"

She could sense a bit of reluctance as Tom showed her where he developed his stories and the drafting table that his wife had used to create the illustrations. Most of the illustrations were pen and ink with pastel watercolor tints. They were uncomplicated, but effective with the stories that Tom had written. Tracey found herself trying to figure out if she could effectively recreate what Anne had done, changing it only enough to make it hers, without losing the original ambience. The longer she studied the illustrations, the more interested she became. All the materials that she would need were there, and if anything was missing, she was sure she could locate what she needed in the area. The biggest problem she was facing was how to propose it to Tom without shutting him down. Would he be receptive for her help, or would he be resentful of her for suggesting it. 

Tom watched Tracey study the drawings that Anne had done. She was not looking at the illustrations, but studying them. It was easy to tell that she was familiar with art techniques, and he felt himself getting enthusiastic about her interest.

"You know something about art, don't you?"

It was an opening. How lucky could a girl get? "Yes, a little."

She was hesitant to offer more than that to the conversation.

"Everything you need is right here. If you'd like to play around a little, I can leave you alone for a while. I have some wood to chop."

"Maybe I should read one of the books first."

She wanted to sit on the porch and read the short story, but decided to stay inside instead. Tom's obsessive wood splitting was distracting. She had to figure out a way to wean him off of it, without actually doing anything. It was not an area that was open for discussion. No amount of reasoning or rational dialog would change his mind. Thirty minutes later she went back into the workroom. She tried to block out the sound of the axe splitting wood for the next two hours, as she familiarized herself with the techniques required to produce acceptable illustrations. If she was to begin creating the pictures for his books, the damn wood chopping would have to stop. Hopefully, her work would be good enough for Tom and his publisher.

Every thirty minutes or so, Tracey gave the sauce a good stir. A little red wine seemed to perk it up some. The boys burst into the room at the same time. They had put their new shoes on at the store and then ran home. Tomorrow, she would show them how to get the maximum out of them. She started the water for the pasta and then walked out on the porch.

"You better take another trip to the shower, mister, if you want to enjoy my prize winning spaghetti." After she said it, she realized that she sounded like a wife. It was a new experience for her and one that she felt she could learn to enjoy. Tom smiled, picked up his shirt and walked towards the house. He was thinking to himself, that he could get to enjoy this.

Things got quiet that evening after the boys went to bed. The cold bottle of Reunite Lambrussco that Tom brought out was slowly disappearing. As they both stared into the fire, Tracey was the first to speak.

"Tom, I need to know about your compulsion to chop wood all the time. I don't want to pry, but it seems to be very important to you."




Rough and Ready



"I am not sure. I can't afford professional help, and to be honest, I don't think I need it. I don't think it is a compulsion. The boys like to tease me about it, but I think I can stop anytime I want to. I am just so pissed off about what Anne did to the boys and me. That's all I think about when I am swinging that axe. I am not looking for revenge, but I think a little closure would be nice."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Tom smiled as he looked at her. "You already have. Yesterday, I spent more time thinking about you than I did thinking about Anne."

"That's good, I guess. Isn't it?"

"I am not sure. Most of the time I was thinking about us taking a shower together. I might be replacing anger with sexual frustration."

Tracey giggled to the point where she had to set down her wine glass. "Oh, I see. Now you are trying to blame it all on me. That's not fair."

"If I have one more sip of this wine, I am going to have to go outside again and start splitting logs."

"Okay. Okay. I get the picture." She took the glass from his hand, set it on the table, and then started to walk towards the bedroom. "I was hoping to do this when the boys were not at home, but since you are turning into such a nag, we'll have to risk it now."

There was a lock on the bedroom door, but the cabin was still quite small. For the next hour, Tracey did her best to relieve all of the sexual tensions that Tom had built up, as well as a few of her own. They both found it highly erotic trying to have sex and keep perfectly quiet. There were times when the feelings got so intense, that they had to smother the sounds with down pillows. Eventually, they both fell asleep.

Saturday morning came with the smell of fresh coffee and bacon. Tom and Tracey woke, realizing that the boys now knew of their dalliance. After taking a few minutes to arrange themselves, they came out to face the music, only to be greeted with two enormous smiles and glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice. Today, instead of melon, Tracey had bacon and eggs for breakfast.

The meal was far quieter than normal. The adults were a little embarrassed in front of the boys, however, the feeling wasn't mutual. Greg finally broke the silence.

"How soon can we go? We have everything together. We memorized all the moves. How soon can you get ready?"

Tom and Tracey both felt a little relieved. The boys were far more interested in the parkour plans for the day, then how Tracey and their father spent the night. It was like an unintentional vote of approval. Ten minutes later, Tom was watching his sons and his new houseguest jog down the road. As they disappeared around the bend, he was trying to decide if he wanted to take a shower or start splitting wood. 

The mile-long jog down the road was good for loosening everything up. Without a word, Tracey suddenly veered off to the right and started up the rocky hillside. Bradley and Greg watched in fascination as she leaped from rock to rock with the grace of a gazelle. She propelled herself with her hands and feet, over obstacles like actors in a cheap Chinese Kung-Fu movie. They had memorized all the moves and watched all the You Tube videos but were still mesmerized by seeing it in person. 

"Are you two going to stand there all day? Get your butts moving now."

Tracey couldn't help smiling as she watched her protégés struggle with the unfamiliar situations. It would take time, but they were eager and in good shape. She came down as easily as she went up. The boys were quick to learn the importance of momentum and fearlessness that was necessary to complete most of the moves. Hesitancy would result in injuries. Confidence was of the utmost importance. Many of the exercises required special or unique physical obstacles, so today, they could only learn those moves that were needed for this area. After two hours of steady work, they were ready for a break.

All three were sitting atop the biggest boulder on the ridge, when they noticed the unexpected visitor.

"Tracey McMann, I need to speak to you." He was half way down the hill, looking up at the trio. She didn't recognize him and had no idea why he was calling her name. Through the tree limbs and underbrush, you could see that he was at least six feet tall with a dark complexion. He had on one of those ridiculous looking duster coats, like you would see in an old Clint Eastwood movie. What troubled Tracey was that in his left hand was a sawed off pump shotgun. 

"Bradley. Greg. Follow the ridge and get back to the house as fast as you can. Don't worry about me. He'll never catch me in the woods, and I won't let him get close enough to use that shotgun. Hurry. Use what I taught you."

As the boys ran and vaulted down the ridge, Tracey moved in the opposite direction. Her antagonist was trying to follow, but doing a poor job of it. She could tell that he was in good shape, but he didn't have the skills necessary to best her in her environment. She toyed with him, until she felt that the boys had enough time to get back home, and then started for the cabin. The boys were smart enough to avoid any danger. 

As she entered the clearing behind the outbuildings, she noticed Tom splitting wood. He acknowledged her presence and motioned her to go in back of the cabin. He seemed unusually cool, considering the situation. Surely the boys told him that the man had a shotgun. She looked around, but didn't see them anywhere. 

A few moments later, he came out of the woods at the same spot Tracey did. He was a lot taller than she had estimated. He walked directly towards Tom, who calmly continued to split wood.

"Where is she? Where is the woman who just ran through here?"

Tom looked at the man and pointed towards his left ear, indicating that he had a hearing problem. The man moved closer, still holding the shotgun casually in his left hand. Tom stopped splitting wood and turned to face him.

"I am sorry. What were you saying?"

"I said, where is the woman who just ran through here?"

The big man was so arrogant and self-confident, that he felt no threat from Tom, even though he was holding an axe. He didn't budge as Tom walked up to him.

"You mean that woman?" Tom pointed directly at Tracey with his left hand when he said it. As the man looked in Tracey's direction, the axe in Tom's right hand seemed to spring up, knocking the shotgun away from the intruder. He hadn't moved his arm at all. The motion all came from his wrist. As the tall man bent over to grab his smashed fingers, the back of the axe came up again, and caught him square in the face. 

About that time, the sheriff was pulling up to the house. The boys came running out as Tracey walked towards her hero. It was a stupid thing that he did. What man in his right mind would confront someone with a shotgun when they only had an axe?

Tom, Tracey, and the boys sat on the porch as the civil servants worked things out. They had to call the EMT unit for the big guy. He lost a few teeth and had his nose and hand broken, but was still able to explain that he was only there to serve Tracey McMann with papers. He was hoping that the shotgun would provide him with enough intimidation to get the job done. The shotgun was not loaded. He followed Todd Werner to the area and then tracked Tracey down by talking to the neighbors.

They all sat quietly as the sheriff verbally berated Tom for using excessive force. The sheriff decided not to file charges against Tom only because the man had the shotgun. He did however, have a whole slew of charges again the big man. The paper that was supposed to be served on Tracey, had mysteriously disappeared. 

In no time at all, everybody was gone. Tom asked the boys to make lunch and then insisted that Tracey tell him what was going on. Under the circumstances, she felt that she couldn't refuse. The grilled cheese sandwiches were ready just as she finished up. She told Tom almost everything, but conveniently forgot to mention that she was filthy rich.

After lunch, Bradley and Greg were off to the woods to practice. Tom went out on the porch, and Tracey brought coffee a few minutes later.

"I looked over your illustrations this morning after you left. They're are a little different from what Anne did, and perhaps a little better. Don't let that go to your head, because the publisher gets final approval."

Tracey didn't say anything. She was glad that the drawings met Tom's approval. 

"If you can do three more, I'll be able to put a package together for the mail on Monday. What do you think?"

"Just tell me what you want and I'll have them for you tomorrow evening."

Far off in the distance, you could hear the whoops as Tom's sons careened around the mountainside. Tracey crossed her fingers. They didn't need any broken bones today. 

Later that afternoon, Tracey called Tanner to let him know about the morning fiasco. He wasn't there, but Sarah was very interested. She asked specific questions and seemed to know exactly what she was doing. Tracey couldn't help thinking that she was more than just a housekeeper.

When the boys came home, they told their dad that they were going to be staying overnight at a friend's house. Bradley gave Tracey a small wink as they left. Tom dropped them off and picked up a couple of pounds of shrimp on the way home.

The kitchen table was covered with several layers of newspaper and piles of shrimp and shrimp shells, when Bradley and Greg returned the next morning. Two half finished bottles of beer sat beside several empties. It was apparent that the special supper was abandoned before it was finished. Tom's sons turned and left as quietly as they came in. They stood on the porch and giggled to each other before leaving for the mountainside behind the cabin.

Tracey woke up to the whooping sounds as they vaulted across the ridge. The sunlight came through the side window and glistened as it reflected off her firm breasts. She figured that she had a few minutes for a quick shower before the little rascals got back. Tom hadn't budged. The muscles in his back were as well developed as those on his arms and stomach. Who would have thought that a simple axe could produce the same results as an expensive Bow Flex? 

Tracey had dusted off the waffle iron that she found on the back of a top shelf. It was warmed up and ready to go when Bradley and Greg returned from their short work out. She couldn't help thinking how nice it was to be young and have unlimited energy. The juice and syrup was on the table, and a few minutes later, the hot waffles were coming. Tom appeared, freshly showered, shortly after wearing a big smile. After noticing a slight frown on Tracey's face, he toned it down a little, but just a little.

Shortly after breakfast, Sarah Weiser showed up. The rough directions Tracey had given her seemed to work.

"Tanner is in San Francisco, but he will be returning this afternoon. Can the two of you come over at about six for a little supper? He is bring back some fresh crabs from the Wharf."

"Good news or bad news?"

"You can't wait until tonight. Tracey?"

"Did you find out anything about the guy that was here yesterday?"

"He squealed like a pig. Tremble hired him and three other guys. There was a five thousand dollar bonus to the one that got to serve you with the papers. His problem was compounded a little because of that shotgun he was carrying. It was just a bit illegal."

"How did you find all this out?"

"Tracey, I am not only Tanner's favorite houseguest, but I am also his personal attorney. I flashed an ID and told the local police that I was there to represent your visitor. Hell, I didn't even know his name when I walked in, but nobody questioned me about it. I left after ten minutes, and they never realized why I was really there."

"You're Tanner's attorney?"

"Have been for twenty years. By the way, I will have some papers ready for you to sign this evening."

"You never told me what Tanner found out in San Francisco."

"You are right. Tanner always said you were sharp."

Tom and Tracey waved as Sarah walked back to her car.

"Tracey, she never gave you an answer."

"You noticed that too. You sure are getting smart since you met me."

Tom spent the afternoon working on the jeep, while Tracey entertained her artistic side, by finishing up the drawings that were still needed. She was pleased that he wasn't splitting wood. 

The boys were gone most of the time and things were fairly quiet. The big decision of the evening was what type of pizza was going to be ordered and what was the PayForView video choice. Tracey stood by amused, as the two teenagers fought it out. 

Before leaving for Tanner's place, Tom put the manuscript and illustrations for the new book together in a mailer. It was ready to go, first thing in the morning. Now he had to figure out how to show his appreciation to his new helpmate.

The fun part of the evening, at Uncle Tanner's, was watching Tom struggle with the boiled crabs. He observed what everyone else was doing around the table and then jumped in with shear determination. Everything turned out well in the end, and she found that the way he approached the unfamiliar situation to be enjoyable.

Tracey explained to her uncle that she felt obligated to inform Tom about the situation. Tom sat through about half of the tedious discussion, and then finally excused himself. He spent the rest of the evening on the front porch watching the stars. Sarah brought him fresh coffee and a friendly smile. He couldn't figure out which was worse: the legalese or the business talk.

Unfortunately, Tracey was forced to sit though it all. Uncle Tanner had quickly figured out what was going on. There were several options that could be taken to get the situation under control. Tracey had no trouble deciding on one of them.

With the amount of company stock that Tanner still held and the stock that Tracey owned, Tanner could get complete and absolute control of the company immediately. Sarah had all the papers necessary for the transfer, and Tracey signed them without any hesitation. She still had her annuity and all the money she had invested over the years. Giving up the stock would not change her life style at all, and would save the company. 

Since Tanner and Sarah were going to move to San Francisco for an undetermined amount of time, Tracey asked if she and Tom could stay at the lodge. All she had to do now was convince Tom that moving there would be beneficial. Tom loved the cabin, but it did hold some bitter memories for him. Maybe the relocation would help. She was sure that Bradley and Greg would be excited about it.

"Hey, wake up sleepy head."

Tom had fallen asleep, even thought the Adirondack chair was uncomfortable as hell. "Sorry. I guess we are ready to go, right?"

"Right. I apologize for the boring evening."

Tracey and Tom said their goodbyes and started back to the cabin.

"Did everything go all right?"

"Most of it. We only have one small problem and I need your help."

"I don't know what help that I can be, but I am all yours."

"Tanner and Sarah are going to be moving back to San Francisco for an indefinite period of time and they need someone to stay in the lodge. I told them that we could do that for them."

Tom didn't respond immediately. "I thought that you were only going to be here long enough to get your problem solved. Does this mean you will be staying a while longer?"

"I will, if you can help me. I can't look after that big place by myself. I figure that I can handle it, if you and the boys help. Are you up to it?"

The inside of the jeep was dark, but she could see the smile on his face from the headlights of the passing cars. Her anticipation was unwarranted. All she had to do now was wait for Uncle Tanner to move out.

Bradley and Greg were still up when they got back. They had never seen the lodge, but were excited about the move. It meant that Tracey would be staying, and that was more important than a new house.

Tom and Tracey excused themselves and headed towards the bedroom together. She glanced back and saw the boys giving each other a high five. She still didn't feel comfortable having unbridled sex with them in the house, but no longer felt the necessity to hide the fact that they were now a couple.

Tracey was up before the boys and had breakfast ready. They asked a hundred questions about the new house. They would each have their own bedroom and high speed internet. What more could a boy want? Tom came out just as they left for school. He ignored the wink he got from Bradley.

Tom left just before opening time at the post-office. Tracey was caught off guard when the landline phone started to ring. There were seldom any calls on that line.

"Hello, Henderson residence. Can I help you?" It was corny, but she didn't know what else to say. There was no answer on the other end. She was just about to hang up when a meek voice responded on the other end.

"This is Anne Henderson calling. Who are you?"

This was definitely a worst-case scenario. Out of all the people who could have been calling, why did it have to be her? More importantly, why was she calling? Tracey's mind was racing as she tried to answer that basic question. It had to be one of two things: she needed money, or she was coming back. The money part didn't bother Tracey, but Anne's possible return would not be acceptable. 

"I am the house keeper. And who are you again?"

There was another pause, as if Anne was struggling to come up with an answer.

"I am Mrs. Henderson. Tom's wife."

"Oh, I am sorry. You have to excuse me. I was under the impression that Mister Henderson was divorced. I wonder why he lied to me about that?"

"I don't think he really lied to you. I sent him some divorce papers a few years back, but they were from Nevada and they were not actually legal. Actually, we are still married."

"Why would you send him phony divorce papers?"

"That was not my intention at the time. It just so happened that when I did it, I didn't do it properly, so the divorce is invalid."

"Why would you do that?"

The long pause indicated that she was again having a hard time coming up with a good answer.

"I am sorry, but that is really none of your business. Can I please speak to Tom?"

"Oh, he is not here. He is down at the tax office again. He spends a lot of time there lately."

"Why is he at the tax office?"

Tracey couldn't help snickering to herself. "Well he is two years behind on his income taxes: state and federal. He owes three years of property taxes: state and county. All of his credit cards are at the limit and he owes his publisher for an advance on a book he never finished. I am afraid he is looking at some hard jail time."

"I can't believe that. Tom was always so stable. He always took care of things. What happened?"

"You left him and everything fell apart. How could you ask such a stupid question?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. Tracey waited several moments. "Hello. Hello. Are you still there?"

"Yes, I am still here."

"What did you want anyhow? Maybe, I could help."

"I have a small problem and I was hoping he could send me money for a plane ticket, so that I could come home."

"Can't you get it from your boyfriend?"

There was no answer.

"What do you consider to be home?"

There was a short pause again. "I don't think I want to talk to you anymore. I'll call back when Tom is there."

The timing of the phone call was too coincidental, and it bothered her.

Tracey was waiting on the porch for Tom when he came back from town. She told him about the call from Anne. He didn't say anything. A few minutes later, Tom called the phone company and cancelled the landline service. He disconnected the phone from the wall, and threw it into the closet. He asked her not to mention the call to the boys, and then he went down and started to split wood. Damn it. She thought she was making headway, and one phone call screwed it all up. Why did she pick this time to call?




Rough and Ready



It only took her about ten minutes to find the divorce papers in Tom's file cabinet. She should not have been poking around in his private things, but this had to be resolved, not ignored. Ten minutes later, she was on her way to see Sarah on the Sportster. Tom looked up from what he was doing, but did not try to stop her. She was gone less than an hour. Tracey stopped and looked at Tom from the porch, before entering the cabin. There was no way in hell that the bitch was going to get him back. 

Tom stopped splitting wood when Tracey called him for lunch. The hot Monte Cristo sandwich with a beer seemed to calm him down. They didn't talk until the meal was over. 

"I need a new story to illustrate. You said you had several more ready. Can you get one together for me, so I can start on it?"

"Let me take a shower first and I'll take care of it. By the way will we need firewood at the new place?"

"The lodge has an oil furnace. We will need some wood for the fire place but not to heat with."

Tom paused for a moment and finished his beer. "I think I am going to sell most of the wood off behind the house. I have had several people asking about it. I don't think I want to split wood ever again." 

Tracey watched without saying anything as he walked towards the shower. Maybe the call from Anne wasn't a bad thing after all. 

Three days later, things were moving along nicely. Tanner and Sarah left for San Francisco and were staying at Tracey's place until they could get a place of their own. Tom had sold off all of the firewood, both split and un-split. The buyer even moved two loads of the split wood to the lodge, and stacked it, as part of the deal. Tom left all of the furniture at the cabin, since the lodge was fully furnished. The boys had to transfer schools, but didn't seem to mind too much. In less than a week, Tom had the cabin rented, with a years lease. 

Tom's publisher was ecstatic about the recent book and the illustrations that Tracey had done. She was not able to get the pictures finished for the new manuscript because of the move, but promised Tom she would have them completed within the week. Tom had already started on a new book. Things were looking good.

The next Saturday was set aside for a road trip. The whole crew headed for the City by the Bay, since Tanner assured her it was safe to return. The Sportster was on the trailer so that Tracey could return it to Tiny, and square accounts with him. Her 883 would be coming back on the trailer, with them. Tracey agreed to let Bradley drive the RX7 back to the lodge, but only with her riding shotgun, Greg pouted a little at being left out, but she promised to make it up to him later. Tom and the boys were impressed by the condo. Tom had already concluded that there was more to Tracey than he originally thought. It was something that he hesitated to bring up, because he was afraid he wouldn't like the answer. 

The trip was not all for pleasure. While Tanner and Tracey talked business, Sarah took Tom and the boys over to Japantown for lunch. They had a great time selecting sushi from the little boats as they drifted by the counter. Tom didn't enjoy it quite as much, since he was aware of the prices. He relaxed when Sarah assured him it was Tanner's treat.

Uncle Tanner's sudden appearance in the company boardroom had created all kinds of havoc. Darien Tremble was fired immediately and escorted from the building, where two US Federal Marshals were waiting for him. The rest of the group, other than Todd and Andrea, were given until the end of the day to clean out their desks. Andrea had a whole list of possible replacements lined up for Tanner to interview on Monday. Tracey was relieved that Andrea had not been one of the conspirators. Tanner also informed Tracey that he and Sarah were not planning on returning to Rough and Ready, and that the lodge belonged to her now, free and clear. Sarah had a package for Tracey that she passed to her secretly.

By three o'clock, the Henderson family, and Tracey, were ready for the trip back to the foothills. Tracey said a little prayer as Bradley pulled out with the rotary rocket. Tom followed right behind them with the trailer. The Wenkle was dying to move out and he was struggling to hold it back. Tracey was amused by the situation and decided to give him a break. She made a quick phone call to Tom and told him to meet them at The Pit.

"Okay Bradley let her rip. If you get a ticket, you pay."

The silver bullet hardly made a sound as it pulled away from the jeep. This was not something she would encourage on a regular basis, but she was feeling good today. Tracey let Bradley have his way with the RX7, until they were about ten miles outside of Sacramento. By the time they got to The Pit, he had settled back down to normal. Twenty minutes later, Tom and Greg arrived. Tom gave Tracey a small scowl, but it quickly changed to a grin as they entered for an early supper.

The next three weeks were like a dream. Tom's new manuscript was progressing well and Tracey was getting more proficient with the illustrations. The boy's school grades were improving with Tracey tutoring, and Bradley had his first serious girlfriend. Tracey got to parkour several times a week by herself and a few times with Bradley and Greg. Tom was no longer splitting wood.

It was a Tuesday morning, when she showed up. 

"Hi. My name is Anne Henderson. I understand that Tom lives here now. I went over to the old place first." She was about five feet two inches. Her hair was shoulder length and a natural dirty blonde. She needed grooming and makeup in the worst way.

"Tom's not here right now Mrs. Henderson. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"And just who are you?"

"I am the house keeper. I believed we talked before."

Tracey did not invite her in. They stood on the porch, each waiting for the other to speak.

"Will he be back soon?"

"He is in Sacramento. I don't expect him back until after three."

"Are the boy's here?"

"They are in school. Won't be home until three thirty."

The pauses between the bits of conversation were maddening.

"Don't you want to tell me why you are here?"

"I just want to get back with my family. I made a big mistake and now I want the chance to straighten things out. I need to talk to Tom. He will understand."

"Why do you think that is the case?"

"We are still legally married. We are still a family. The boys need a mother and Tom needs a wife."

"They needed a mother two years ago. Where were you then?"

"Like I said, I made a mistake. I am here now to correct things."

"You won't be able to correct anything, if you keep on lying."

"Who the hell are you to accuse me of lying? You have no right."

Tracey glared at her and motioned for her to wait, as she entered the house. A few moments later she stood there with the envelope that Sarah had given her.

"Let's try this one more time Mrs. Henderson and if you lie to me again, I will kick your butt off this property so fast that you won't know what happened."

Anne stood still, without speaking.

"What happened to the flyboy that you ran away with? Where is he right now and why aren't you with him?"

Anne tried to straighten herself up before replying.

"He was transferred to Thailand and didn't take me with him. He left me in Baltimore with no money and no job. I didn't know what to do."

"So you decided to crawl back to the man you deserted and lie to him?"

"I made a mistake when I left. He will take me back. He has to."

Tracey reached into the envelope. "You see this report? It is from the Washoe County Court House in Nevada. It states that your divorce from Tom Henderson was legal and binding. You are no longer married to Tom Henderson in any manner. It is over. Do you understand?"

Anne was hanging her head. She didn't say anything, but just nodded her head.

"You lied about working in Baltimore also, didn't you?"

She just looked at Tracey without saying anything. Tracey looked carefully at the paper in the envelope indicating that Anne had been arrested for solicitation. It would be so easy to threw it in her face, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She could tell Anne was hurting and she was sure that she would have resorted to prostitution only as a last resort.

"Anne, do you want to talk about your arrest in Baltimore?"

"Oh, God. Who the hell are you. How do you know all this? Does Tom know?"

"Tom doesn't know and the boys don't know. As far as I am concerned, they don't need to know."

"What do you want? What am I supposed to do?"

"Why did you abandon your two sons? Leaving for another man is bad enough, but how could you just walk out on those boys?"

"Daniel was charming and generous. I met him at an art store in Yuba City. Tom was usually busy, so it was easy for me to get away to spend time with Daniel. He told wonderful stories about all the places he visited. He lived the type of life I always wanted. I was stuck in a shack in the mountains, with a semi-recluse husband and two young boys. Looking back, I had no idea how lucky I was. When Daniel got transferred he asked me to come with him, but alone. It was a very difficult decision for me. The boys had a closer bond with Tom than they did with me, so I made the choice and left them with their father." 

"I stayed with Daniel for two years until he got a transfer to Thailand. It was an unaccompanied tour, but I could have gone with him. Our parting was a little bitter. He told me he didn't want to take hamburger to a steak dinner."

"You screwed up."

"Don't I know it?"

"What about the arrest?"

I worked at a Taco Bell during the day, but could not pay the rent. I got a second job at night cleaning at an oriental massage parlor. One night they got raided. I was the damn cleaning lady and got charged with prostitution along with the rest of the girls. That's when I called you."

"Anne, Tom does not want you back. Your sons feel the same way. Believe me, you do not want to face them. They are old enough to realize what you did and how you hurt their father. They love him and will stick by him no matter what you say or do. I don't care what you do. I was just trying to make it easier for Tom and the kids."

"What can I do? Where can I go?"

"I can help you out. I can give you some money to get started someplace else, and I will not tell Tom or the boys anything about what happened. You can send them birthday cards and a Christmas present every year, but please don't visit."

"Why should I do anything you say at all?"

"Anne, listen real close. Your husband hates you for what you did and wants nothing to do with you. I told him when you called last time and he ripped the phone out of the wall."

"That's why I couldn't call him back."

They both stood quietly on the porch. Anne was shuffling her feet and looking at the ground. "How much money?"

"I'll give you ten thousand cash and a ride to the bus station, if you promise to stay away."

"You're a heartless bitch. Do you know that?"

"Yes, indeed. Do you want that ride or not?"

Two hours later Tracey watched as Tom turned into the driveway with a new Subaru Outback Wagon. She got a couple of cold beers while he parked in front of the lodge.

"What took so long?"

"They had the wrong hitch installed. I had to wait until they replaced it."

"Do you like it?" They both sat on the porch rockers and propped their feet on the railing.

"Of course I do. What's not to like?" He popped the tab on his beer and smiled at his benefactor.

"Your wife was here today." 

"Is she coming back?" Tom followed the question with a big swig of the canned brew.

"I don't think so." 

"Good." The silence that followed was like a sigh of relief.

"Tom. Did you read the papers in that folder that Sarah gave me?"

He finished the beer and crushed the can. "Of course I did."

Tracey stood up and took the empty from his hand. "We have time for a quick shower before the boys get home from school. Are you up for it?"

Tom smiled and took her hand as they walked into the lodge.



Rough and Rumble



You stand before me, in a leather dress. Spiked necklace tickling your bare shoulders, earrings swaying against your neck. I pull on your leash, guiding you forward. You sink into my arms, the well-known hands gripping your sides and pulling you closer, the anxiously-awaited lips pressing against yours. My hand runs up your back, over the back of your neck, squeezing and pulling you closer to me, into the kiss. My tongue darts past your lips, forcing them open as I curl my fingers into the hair at the base of your skull. Thousands of sparks shoot from the back of your head as I pull, forcing you to tilt back your head.

You close your eyes as my soft, moist lips press against the naked flesh of your neck. Tingles spread as my teeth close down, pressing into your skin, increasing force, pressure increasing on your neck as I bite ever harder, straining your neck as I tilt your head back. My other hand runs along your side, sliding over your dress, tickling your skin as it runs down your hip to your leg. I slip my fingers under the hem, squeezing your thigh as I hike your skirt up.

I lean you back against the wall as my hand slides around your leg, tickling your inner thigh. I bite your ear, kissing behind it, sliding your panties aside and brushing your pussy. I rub the outside of your lips, my finger massaging your pussy as it slides up and down. Slowly I slide the tip inside of you the slightest amount. You gasp, and my mouth closes over yours, my tongue sliding into your mouth as I kiss you deeply. I bite your lip as I break the kiss, pulling on your lip as I slide my finger into you more, and then pull it out.

"Turn around" I state, stepping away from you. Eagerly, you do my bidding, spreading your legs and sliding your palms along the rough wall away from you. Cool metal presses against your skin, a clink can be heard as the mechanism catches. First one wrist, then the other, chaining you to the wall. You lower your head as I step behind you, lowering the zipper on the back of your dress. Something cold and hard slides across your shoulder, you feel a snap as your dress loosens. Same cold thing on your other shoulder, followed by another snap, and your dress slowly slides off of you, exposing your pebbling skin.

You shiver slightly as the air slides across your newly-bared skin, causing your goose-bumps to rise even more. Something slides down your back, tickling your skin and making you jump as it lightly trails across your skin.

A sharp smack sounds in the air, as your back grows warm and tingles spread across your body. You bite your lip as the sensation returns, again and again. The warmth spreading across your back and seeming to spread through your entire body until suddenly it stops. Sharp pain shoots from your neck as I sink my teeth into you, pressing the skin nearly until it breaks. Swiftly I rip down your dress, sliding it all the way down your legs. Sliding my hands back up your legs, I grab your panties and yank them down, exposing you to the cool air.

Something warm and hard slides along your pussy, rubbing along the outside of your lips as it presses against you. Slowly, teasingly, it slowly slides inside of you, filling the inside of your pussy inch by inch. You inhale sharply as the last few inches are slammed home, suddenly bursting into you, the tip sliding along the inside of your pussy. Rhythmically it slides in and out, long, fluid strokes. Sliding almost all the way out of you before slipping back in. Speed builds, and the thrusts become shorter and harder. Warming your pussy as it pounds into you. Sharp tingles spread across your ass as I spank you, a hand reaches around to grope your tit. I pinch your nipple, pulling on it, sending sensations of painful pleasure through your entire body.

Quicker I fuck you, slamming into you harder, pressing you tighter against the wall with each thrust. Your body starts to shake and tense up, your orgasm building. I fuck you harder, sliding my cock all the way out of you before slamming it back inside again, pushing you against the wall. Again I spank you, sending shock waves through your body as I bring you closer to cumming. Right as you hit the edge, right as you cum, I wrap my fingers into your hair again, pulling your head back, craning your neck and arching your back. I pound into you hard and quick, filling you with my cock as I bite down on your neck, sending you over the edge. Your body shakes, your knees go weak. You lean back into me, your body spasming as you cum, relaxing completely in my grip.

I unchain you, and lead you to the bed, throwing you across it. You roll over onto your back, taking out your earrings as I kneel over you, holding a candle. I tilt it sideways, the hot wax pouring onto your skin, warming it before it cools in the air, making a scab on your skin. You inhale sharply as I make a trail up your stomach, between your tits, across your chest and around your nipples.

I reach to the bedside, pulling out a blindfold. The world goes black as I place it over your eyes. Something hard and cold latches onto your wrist, pulling your arm back over your head. Suddenly, your other arm is pulled back and fastened as well, leaving you helpless. Lightly something passes over your leg, dancing like a million tingles across your skin it flows up to your thigh. Across your hip and over your stomach it leads, running up your chest and to your neck. Softly it flows over your cheek and brushes your lips like the hint of a lovers kiss. It slides down your neck, lightly brushing across your skin and across your chest, leading towards your nipple. Smoothly it passes over your skin, teasing your nipple, drawing ever closer. Sending sparks through your entire body it passes over your nipple, again and again, driving you wild. You strain against your bonds, helplessly immobile.

The sensation is suddenly gone, leaving you aching for more. A touch, a brush, anything. You arch your back, pressing your tits into the air, aching for more, receiving nothing. Your skin screams for the sensation of a touch, your ears strain to hear movement. Suddenly something drips onto you, cool and soothing, it trails down the curve of your breast, sliding down your side and onto the bed. Hard and cool, something presses against your neck. It traces down your body, along your side, leaving a wet trail that runs down to the bed, making you shiver in the cool breeze. You arch your back and bite your lip as it slides across your stomach, down to your thighs. Your legs spread slightly as it travels to your inner thigh, running up and over your pussy, causing you to gasp. Again, you are left sensation less for the briefest of moments until someone kisses your lips, hard and passionate. Their weight eases onto you, crushing you into the mattress as they lay on top of you, wrapping your legs around their waist.

Quickly, something hard and fleshy is thrust into your pussy, spreading your lips and penetrating you without hesitation. Fluidly it slides into you, filling you and pulling out with rhythmic smoothness. Harder and faster, filling you, sending you sensations of pleasure. Something grips your nipples, squeezing them and pulling on them, making your skin tingle. Hard and fast, he slams into you, filling you with his cock as he plays with your nipples. He bites your neck, pain shooting across your skin. Your orgasm builds as he reaches down to rub your clit as he fucks you. Your body tenses, fingers wrap into your hair, pulling your head back and arching your back as you cum. Sensations of the utmost pleasure fly through you as he cums inside of you, shooting his load deep inside you as you cum.



Rough and Sweet



I pull the Jeep close to the curb and kill the engine. The sudden silence and stillness in the car makes me feel present in the moment, makes it seem real. Now my emotions can bubble up to the surface of my consciousness, making me restless. My stomach flips over nervously.

Turning down the driver's side sun visor and sliding open the plastic door to reveal the vanity mirror, I check my makeup a last time. Dark brows, honey eyes framed in big lashes, and full red lips. I haven't felt, or looked for that matter, this good in a long while. And I'm done wasting time.

Without the air conditioning on, the car is getting warm in the summer sun. I take this as a sign I should stop stalling and get on with it.

So I take a deep breath, hold it in for a few seconds, and let it all go. Then I slide a hand under my black sun dress and slip off my pair of pale pink lace panties. I stuff them into my bag and get out of the car, not stopping to allow a second thought.

Once on the porch, I give a hard, quick rapt on the front door and wait. I breathe out another heavy sigh through my lips, hoping to push my chaotic thoughts away with the air. It's not working.

And then the door is pulled open. And that did the trick; the wild torrent of thoughts flee my skull in a hurry. My stomach drops again, a little bit in anticipation and a little bit in fear.

I look up at him, all big doe eyes and lips just a little parted, but not smiling. I want him to see my indecision, like I'm not sure I want what I'm getting myself into. It's part of the game. I have the baby doll face and a look of innocence naturally; why not use it to my advantage? I'm four years past legal, but I don't look it.

He pulls me over the threshold, against his body, and kisses me slowly on the lips. When he pulls away, he makes a sound in the back of his throat like he's taken a bite out of a dessert he enjoys. It should be ridiculous, but when he does it, somehow it is not. It makes the skin on my upper arms prickle. I smile up at him and stand on my tip toes for another kiss.

"Are you thirsty?" he asks, "Would you like something to drink?" He walks toward the kitchen, gently leading me along. I was thirsty, sure, but not for anything he could get me from the fridge.

"No, thank you," I reply. "I'm fine. I think I'll just go put my things in your bedroom, if that's okay with you?"

"Of course," he says and smiles. "You remember where it is?"

I nod and head down the hall, feeling his eyes on me as I walk away. My sun dress has an open back and I feel fairly certain he's enjoying what he sees. 

I smile at this thought and then feel a small pang of dampening guilt. I shouldn't be doing this and I certainly shouldn't be enjoying it. I can't be this sort of woman. I'm the sort that dates the same boy for five years. From high school and all through university. Who loves him through even when he can't make me all that happy. Oh, wait. I already did that. And where did it get me again?...

Two large hands close on my hips and I can't help it; I'm so startled, I jump. He laughs a little under his breath, pulls me back against him, and sweeps my smooth, brown hair behind my right ear. He leans in close and breathes, "Your'e so fucking adorable. I can hardly stand it." My flesh erupts in goosebumps.

This is too easy for him.

He brushes his lips down my ear lobe and kisses my neck, one of my several weak spots. His mouth explores my throat and along my collar bone, raising a new wave of goosebumps. I can't help it; I arch my back and lean into him, anticipating the feeling of him stiff and hard against the curve of my ass. 

I lean back and ah, yes, there it is. He pulls me harder against him with his hands still on either of my hips. The pressure of his cock against me makes my stomach slip once more, like I'm free falling. I hadn't been in town for a month and it seems I forgot how large it is. 

The idea of it inside me makes me both eager and scared; I roll my head to the side so he can reach my throat better. The delicious feeling of his tongue and teeth on my skin makes my desire swell. His kisses get harder and his hands begin to roam from my hips. 

Back over my round ass, up along the curves of my small waist, taking their sweet time before finally reaching my breasts. But when they get there, they freeze. His whole body stiffens behind me. He kneads his hands over them, feeling my hard nipples pressing through the flimsy material of my sun dress. 

"Your'e not wearing a bra, are you?" he asks in my ear, his voice playfully stern. I bite my lip and refuse to answer, so he turns me around to face him.

"Well?" he asks again. I still keep my mouth shut and cast my eyes down like I know I'm in trouble. Just a game, sure, but it sends my heart racing. 

He places a finger below my chin and pushes it up so I have to look in his eyes. They're warm and bright and absurdly, I am reminded of root beer candies. His hair is richly brown, a stray curl lays over his brow. And his arms. Strong and muscled, but not bulky. The veins that run along his forearms are strangely sexy to me. I feel a visceral desire to run my tongue along them...

"Distracted, are we?" he asks. His voice low, but still the hint of playfulness is there. "Well, I guess I'll just find out for myself then." He plucks up a strap of my dress and slides it down my shoulder. Now the other.

The bodice of the dress slips down my body like water, hanging on my hips but leaving me naked from the waist up.

"I thought so," he says. And his hands go exploring again. Slowly and teasingly, until he lands a hard pinch on my left nipple. I gasp and he smiles. 

Standing still and letting him touch me like this makes me feel dirty. And I can't help it, but I like it. I could try to convince myself that I don't enjoy feeling this way: like I'm his dirty, secret plaything. But there is no use. My body craves it. I feel a sweetness between my legs and know I'm rather wet already.

"You really should answer me when I ask a question," he warns. I nod. 

"Say it," he says.

"Okay," I reply, "I'll answer you." My breathing is getting shallower and faster and he definitely notices it. And I know how much he likes it.

"Better," he says. "Now. Anything else to share?" he asks. 

I fight the urge to smile and look down again. My cheeks feel hot. I might be blushing.

After a few seconds, I can't help it and I have to look up at him again. A light bulb goes off behind his eyes and he tugs down on my dress, so it falls over my hips and down to the floor of his bedroom. And then I'm standing completely naked in front of him, his eyes climbing over each inch of my skin like it belongs to him. 

"So, you weren't wearing a thing under that dress?" he asks. 

I shake my head and he raises his eyebrows. 

"Nope," I say. His shameless desire for me makes me feel bold. I give him a faux shy smile. This seems to put him over the edge; he's grown tired of waiting. So he yanks my body against his and kisses me roughly and deeply on the mouth. I get caught up in it, parting my lips for him when I feel his tongue. My hands finally get to do a little exploring of their own.

Once he knows I'm properly distracted, he pushes me and I fall back on the bed. Another rasping gasp; he's caught me off guard- I hadn't been expecting that. I prop myself up on my elbows, so I can watch him tug off his grey t-shirt and blue jeans. The outline of his hard cock in his briefs makes me feel nervous once again, like I'm a little kid who's spotted her crush at recess. A wave of desire pulses down my body.

I greedily want to take him in my mouth, feel his cock hard and smooth and wet slip in and out between my lips. I want to make him moan until his hands grab fistfuls of my messy hair and pull tight, fighting to hold on a little longer before he cums down my throat.

But I don't have a chance to get my mouth on him before he deftly flips me over so I am laying on my stomach. He pulls me towards him so my feet touch the floor again but my upper body is still against the top of his bed. I suppose I must have spread my legs for him without consciously deciding to, because I feel him standing between them now.

Theres a loud smack when he brings an open palm down on my bare ass. The sting and surprise make my skin tingle and my heart pick up the pace. It feels like there's a hummingbird beating its wings in my chest.

He tugs my hair, pulling my head to the side so he can lean down and put his lips to my ear to whisper, "It's been way too long since I've had you here. I've missed you."

And innocently I ask him to show me how much he's missed me.

Then finally he fucks me. He yanks down the front of his briefs and pushes inside me. He loves how wet I get for him and lets a moan escape his lips when he feels it.

With his first thrust, I have to let out a big breath. I'm tight and to be so suddenly filled gives me a sweet, violent sort of pleasure. I've been craving this and to have him inside me after all the waiting makes me feel almost high.

I arch my back so he can go deeper. I'm just a petite thing and taking so much of his length like this hurts, but when I hear another one of his moans, I don't pull away.

Suddenly, he slides all the way out of me and turns me over onto my back. He steps out of his briefs and climbs on top of me. Then he pulls my wrists up and I hold them there, so he can reach into his bedside drawer and pull out a length of thick, black cording. 

I keep still so he can quickly wind it around my wrists and knot them together. "Too tight?" he asks, and I shake my head.

I spread my legs for him, so his narrow hips are high between my thighs. My pussy aches with anticipation; I want him so badly. My eyes roam over his muscled body and up to his face. In his eyes I see my own hunger reflected sharply. 

He tries to tease me, letting the head of his cock slip up against my wetness. It makes me squirm. It is impossible to stay still beneath him. My craving for him blocks out all else and in this moment feeling him inside of me is the only thing I want. I can't help it. I'm going to beg.

"I love it when you pant," he says. His eyes sweep down my naked body as he slides his cock against my clit again. It rolls over smoothly, slick from being within me. I know what he wants and so I give it to him.

"Please, baby," I say between breaths and try my best to give him an innocent, wide-eyed look that he likes so much. Which is not easy to do when you are begging for cock.

He wants to tease me longer, wants to make me really beg before he gives it to me. But my doe eyes are doing the trick and he can't wait much longer either. He tells me to say "pretty please." I don't hesitate.

So he slips my bound hands behind his head, so my arms are around his neck and finally plunges into me again. I'm flooded with carnal relief, my small body stretching to fit him. I usually like to watch him enjoy me, but tonight I want it so bad I can't concentrate. The feeling is already overwhelming and the initial relief vanishes in an instant. But the pleasure is building swiftly, winding me tighter and tighter.

I pull in my arms so his forehead almost touches mine and he kisses me eagerly, his tongue tasting my lips. I tilt my head back so he looks at me and there is something I don't recognize flashing in his eyes. 

I may not know what it is, but my body reacts anyway. A slow, delicious wave of pleasure rolls through me. I lift my hips to try to keep it with me.

His rhythm increases and it feels almost brutal, but I'm grateful for it. I move with him as he pulls in and out, in and out. I know it's about to come, so I try my best to clear my mind. It's always been difficult to get me to cum, but somehow he's able to do what the others can't.

I suppose he's seen something on my face or I've cried out because he smiles and says, "You really do like it rough." And he goes harder.

Part of my body wants it to stop, feels like I won't be able to take it anymore, like I'll explode. And after a few more harsh trusts, explode is exactly what I do. I catch one of the waves of pleasure racking my body and bear the most delicious, lingering release. The feeling is intolerable and enormous. For a few clear moments, there is absolutely nothing for me but all-consuming pleasure. 

And then I collapse into the sheets like a fluid, utterly spent and happily exhausted. 

Now that he's taken care of me, it's his turn. Seeing me cum that hard has him frenzied. His hands are rough and wild, on my breasts, in my hair, at my throat. He lowers his head so my bound wrists slide off of his neck and I hold them down against the bed over my head. He yanks up each of my legs easily onto either of his shoulders. Pounding deeper still.

I know by the increasing rhythm of his breath that he's close, so I move my sightline from his hips to his face and his body stiffens over mine. He finishes with two more slow, smooth thrusts as he empties his load inside me.

He pulls out and I feel sore and tender and raw. I relish it.

I get up onto my knees and sit down comfortably onto my heels, holding out my hands so he can untie the cording. He reaches out as if to do so, but instead grasps ahold of my forearms and tugs me sharply towards him so my face is close to his. Without a word, he puts a soft kiss on the corner of my lips and then frees my wrists.

A little bit of warm cum drips down my inner thigh. And I sort of like that too. It feels natural.

I really should pull on some clothes and go on back to my hotel room. But we're both already half asleep when he pulls me into his arms. So instead, I let myself fall into sleep soundly with my head resting on his chest.



Rough and Tumble



Wendy was forever leaving stuff around the house, wherever she happened to last be using whatever it was. "Have you seen my hairbrush?" or "Have you seen my earrings?" she would ask, presumably expecting me to keep track of her various belongings. Earlier in our married life I had made the mistake of picking up after her and then taking the blame two days later when she had once again mislaid an item. I was trying to be helpful, but quickly realised that the safest course of action was not to move any of her stuff. All of which explains why I left her handbag at the top of the stairs when I saw it lying there that Saturday morning. 

I went downstairs to the kitchen and started making breakfast. Wendy's routine on a Saturday was to lie in bed until I had made fresh coffee and warmed up some bread in the oven. I had just poured myself a cup of Vietnamese Sang Tao Number 8 when I heard the surprised cry, the rumble and thump and the moans of pain. It didn't take a genius to work out that she had fallen down the stairs. How bad was it? Our trip to the local hospital saw her back home that afternoon with a neck brace, bruising to the face and a very nasty looking black eye. No bones broken, although the doc who checked her out asked her to go back for a routine follow up on Monday morning.

We had a very quiet weekend. Wendy took some painkillers and spent most of the time lying in bed, talking to her mum and various friends on her mobile phone and doing some shallow internet socialising as far as I could tell. My role seemed to be as some sort of butler or nurse. She did get out in the garden for some fresh air on Sunday morning, but the weather was not very friendly and she went back indoors quite soon, leaving me to get on with the autumnal tasks of pruning bushes and sweeping up dead leaves.

Our next door neighbour, Bob, a builder by trade, was busy with the same tasks, but when Wendy went indoors he stopped what he was doing and came over to the garden wall, clearly looking to chat with me.

"Hi, Dave. I saw your wife this morning. Is she OK?" he asked.

"She'll recover." I replied.

"How did it happen?"

"Oh, she blamed me. Said it was bound to happen, she was a bit careless, but it was basically my fault. She seems to think I was trying to trip her up, or something."

Bob seemed quite surprised. "Wow! Is that what she said?"

"Yes. Anyway, I think she's learned her lesson." 

Bob was still looking a bit nonplussed. "Well..." he said, "I think you're being very understanding, given the circumstances. If she needs a shoulder to cry on, Marjorie can be very discreet."

Bob turned away to get on with his gardening, leaving me to scratch my head. Bob's wife Marjorie was a nice lady, but I thought it a bit odd that he was providing reassurance about her discretion. Presumably he thought Wendy would not want the local gossips chin-wagging about her clumsiness.

On Monday morning I drove Wendy over to the hospital and waited while she got her check up. I called my boss to let him know that I would be a bit late. Wendy was a while longer than I expected, as it seems the hospital has a one to one interview with the patient if the injuries could possibly have been the result of domestic violence. Better safe than sorry, I suppose. Anyway, I eventually dropped Wendy off at the bank where she works as a loan officer and got into my office later that morning.

I work as a government purchasing manager, so my work schedule is fairly flexible and I have my own separate room, not because I'm important, but mainly so that meetings with suppliers and colleagues are completely confidential.

Not long after I got settled in that morning I started getting phone calls from some of Wendy's friends and colleagues and I was glad to have that privacy. They all seemed to doubt her explanation that she fell downstairs. The callers were all women who didn't believe Wendy was that clumsy and they were either seeking reassurance from me or threatening me or both. Of course I protested my innocence, but they were all quite adamant. Jenny, her best friend at the bank, told me that even if everyone went along with the line that the black eye, bruising and sprained neck were the result of an accident, she hoped I would exercise some restraint if I was ever tempted to be violent towards Wendy.

That afternoon it seems news of Wendy's injuries reached our office, probably via Jenny's husband, George, who is a colleague. Anyhow, our boss came by to see me. I've always had a good working relationship with Jimmy and we are very straightforward with one another. However he took me completely by surprise when he asked if I needed to take some time off to deal with any domestic issues that I might have. As I hesitated, he went on to say that he could help to arrange counselling or anger management therapy if that would get things back on track. By this time I was beginning to realise that the louder my denials, the less weight they seemed to carry. I just told him things were okay and that we didn't need to start making this into a major incident.

By the end of the day I was getting tired of protesting my innocence, so when I pulled up outside our house that evening to be greeted by our other neighbour telling me that "Hitting a woman is no way to get even", my reply was simply to say, "You're absolutely right, Steve." I walked on up the path to our front door, but as I was putting my key in the lock, I thought about what he had just said. What was he implying? If he had misunderstood what had happened and jumped to the wrong conclusion, it would have been simpler for him to have said that hitting a woman is unforgivable. That would have been very straightforward and to the point. But why did he think I would be getting even? Maybe he thought Wendy had damaged the car or ruined my favourite shirt or something like that. Strange that he thought I'd raise a hand in anger towards her under any circumstances.

Wendy was home early, having been told to take sick leave for the rest of the week. It seems the bank thought she needed rest and recuperation, or more likely they didn't want to have her battered and bruised face in front of the customers. She said she was worried that people doubted her story about having fallen downstairs. Clearly, she was having the same trouble as I was, but there's not much you can do if some folk have their own version of reality. I didn't think there was any point in telling her that her friends and colleagues had been giving me a hard time, so I made dinner and we ate quietly, then we watched TV for a while before going to bed.

On Tuesday morning I noticed George looking over at me as I sat in my office and eventually he cornered me at the water cooler, glancing around to make sure there was no one within earshot. "Look, Dave, Jenny says Martin's not stupid and he knows Wendy didn't fall down the stairs. He told Jenny it was a mistake for him to get involved with Wendy. I'm sure he'll stay away from her if you don't stir things up. What do you say, Dave?"

To say I was stunned is a bit of an understatement. What the heck was happening? I think I must have been staring at George for a while. I hadn't said a thing, so he quickly continued, "Okay, Dave, I know it's a lot to ask, but please think about it. He's got a wife and kids, after all." He turned away, as I stood there, speechless. Presumably, he thought my lack of response indicated an unwillingness to enter into any discussion of the matter. The plain and simple truth is that I was in shock.

Sitting in my office afterwards, I tried to make sense of what George had said. The only Martin that I could think of was Martin Locke, Wendy's boss at the bank. I had chatted to Martin and his generously proportioned wife, Vanessa, when the bank held its annual staff party last year. If what George said was true, then Wendy had been working under Martin in more ways than one. That the source of this information was Jenny, Wendy's closest friend at the bank, meant it was unlikely to be some sort of misunderstanding. I felt numb, but I knew I needed to try and sort out what was happening.

I decided I better head home and talk to my wife. Jimmy wasn't at all surprised that I asked for the afternoon off. He probably felt his reading of the situation had been fairly accurate and I did nothing to change that impression.

There was a silver Lexus parked in our driveway when I got home, so I parked round the corner and walked back to our house, wondering who was visiting Wendy and whether I'd have to put our "heart to heart" on hold. The garage door was open, so I went through the garage and opened the door to the kitchen, expecting to find Wendy and her pal having a cup of coffee. There was no sign of anyone in the kitchen, but I could hear a man's voice coming from the lounge.

Of course, what I hadn't realised was that Martin had decided to have his own "heart to heart" with Wendy while I was away at work. Thinking back on my conversations with the neighbours I expect he had been a regular visitor to our house when I was not there. As I stood quietly in the hallway, I heard him say, "Look, I'm sorry I have to dash off, love. I'd love to stay and keep you company for a while, but I've got a meeting this afternoon that I can't reschedule. Are you sure you'll be okay? I'm glad we cleared things up, but I still find it difficult to believe that you really did fall down the stairs." Wendy was all reassurance. "That's really sweet of you, Martin, but I keep telling you. I tripped over my handbag. Dave would never raise a hand to me and if he ever did, I would not hang around. I'll see you on Thursday evening as usual. Now off you go and don't worry about me."

Quickly gathering my wits I retreated through the kitchen and went out the back door into our garden. I stood behind the garage, weighing up my options. I felt simultaneously sick and angry at Wendy's obvious betrayal. I go bowling and a bite to eat after work on Thursday evenings with our office team and normally get home around 11pm. It looked like Wendy and Martin balled while I bowled. 

I realised that immediate confrontation was likely to result in outright denial and then the guilty parties would be alerted to my suspicions. I had been badly hurt and I didn't want to end up trapped in this marriage for any longer than was absolutely necessary. It didn't take me long to decide that some incontrovertible evidence would be required if I wanted to bring things to an end. I had the beginnings of a plan and could use the next day or so to work out the details. I waited until Martin drove off and then returned to my car via the narrow lane at the back of our house, so Wendy wouldn't see me.

It's surprising how well you can lie to your wife when you discover she has been deceiving you and screwing around with another man. I went for a walk in the autumn sunshine that afternoon and returned home at my usual time. Wendy had cooked one of my favourite Spanish dishes, chicken with saffron rice. Was she feeling guilty? I had no idea, but I wasn't going to waste good food. Although it was a weekday I decided I would open a bottle of nice Spanish dry white wine to go with the meal. "Are you celebrating something, Dave?" she asked. "Kind of," I replied, "There's a lot happening at work and I think I may be about to solve a difficult problem." I didn't explain that the two things were not linked.

Wendy decided that she would use her time off to do some housework on Wednesday, but she wasn't keen to do any food shopping, as her face was turning into an interesting mixture of black and yellow from the bruising. She was happy when I offered to do all the shopping for the rest of the week. That would give me plenty of time during Wednesday and Thursday to make all the necessary changes to our bank accounts and credit cards.

Thursday afternoon seemed to drag on forever, but eventually it came time to leave the office. My colleagues on the bowling team were a bit surprised that I called off after we got to the bowling alley, but it wasn't difficult to find someone to stand in for me. The place is full of bowling addicts and no doubt my substitute would score better than I would have.

I drove over to Martin and Vanessa's place and parked down the street. Martin came out just after seven, hopped in his silver Lexus and drove off. I waited another half hour before driving the short distance to their house. I got out and went up to their front door. Naturally Vanessa was surprised to see me. I didn't know her all that well, but she had seemed to be one of those kindly big strong momma types when I talked to her at the staff party, so I was gambling that she would be sympathetic.

Martin must have told her about Wendy falling downstairs, so all I had to do was tell her that Wendy was having a bit of an emergency with some sort of woman's problem and I couldn't get hold of any of her other female friends to help solve the problem. Did Vanessa mind coming over and seeing what she could do? Vanessa grabbed her coat and bag and we were on our way.

I calculated that Wendy and Martin would have had the best part of an hour to get things going by the time Vanessa and I turned up. Vanessa didn't spot Martin's silver Lexus, which was parked discreetly further down the street. As soon as I turned the key in the lock and opened the front door it was obvious that my calculations were spot on. Vanessa looked very concerned when she heard the wailing and keening coming from the lounge. It probably sounded to Vanessa like Wendy was in pain. I ushered Vanessa towards the lounge, leaving the front door open to facilitate Martin's exit, which I expected would be very soon. I wasn't disappointed.

Once Vanessa got over the shock of seeing Martin with his tool jammed in my wife's toolbox, she set to with a vengeance. That handbag must have weighed at least ten pounds and she swung it like a battle axe while screaming at Martin and Wendy. I think Wendy's face might actually have got in the way at some stage. Of course I don't have to rely on my memory to replay the scene, because I had set my mobile to record video and got most of the action from just after Vanessa walked in the room. Martin finally managed to grab his trousers and ran for it, sprinting out the front door as I had expected. Vanessa had begun to run out of steam by this stage and Wendy sat holding her head and sobbing in the corner.

"I'm sorry, Vanessa," I said. "I didn't really want to bring you here on false pretences, but you wouldn't have believed me if I had told you what was going on. Let me take you home." Vanessa was really angry with me and called me all sorts of names, but eventually I was able to shepherd her back out to my car.

Epilogue

Wendy moved in with her mother and we put the house on the market. I know it was her fault our marriage ended and she was a selfish and deceitful person, but I don't hold a grudge, as I got some rough justice when Vanessa tanned their hides. Two years later I have a wonderful girlfriend and I trust her, but I don't go bowling.