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Without

By: WFEATHER



When He stepped through the front door, she was kneeling in the front hallway, just to His left, as usual. she was wet, her long stringy hair obscuring her bowed face; likely, she had just recently returned from her near-daily jog through the nearby park; her wet body caused her to shiver. He closed the door behind Him, cutting off the chill from the cold winter outside, then slowly set His briefcase aside, kicked off His shoes, and removed His coat and hung it on an unused hook in the wall. 

Feeling His hand upon her head, she looked up at Him for the first time in many days, the smile on her face unable to be concealed. When He held His arms wide, she practically leaped to her feet and plastered herself against Him, hugging Him tightly and threatening to never let go. He simply held her close for several long minutes, His hands caressing her back and fondly toying with her hair. 

In time, they shared a long, warm kiss, then separated. Taking her hand, He guided her into the main room and sat on the sofa, indicating for her to sit in His lap. There they continued their cuddling in silence, the naked submissive slowly drying while leaving her wetness on her Master's clothes. 

Eventually, her head resting upon His shoulder, they spoke about His trip to Paris. The project team had not needed the extra two days they had built into their schedule in case of problems, so He and a few of His colleagues had decided to return home immediately, while the rest of the team remained in Paris to wait for their originally-scheduled flight. Having been to Paris several times before - both as a tourist and on business - He had decided to instead spend the extra time with her. 

she related her days of quiet in His absence. The majority of her time had been spent reading, drawing, writing a few letters to old friends, and jogging in the park each afternoon. she admitted that she had just stepped out of the shower after her daily jog when she heard His car in the driveway, and - once over her shock of hearing His car two days early - rushed to greet Him as usual. As she spoke, her mind began to wander as His hand lifted and cupped a breast, his fingers tweaking the nipple as she spoke. 

Soon, she began to leave another kind of wetness on His clothes. she could also feel His arousal through His slacks, pressing against her leg. she simply closed her eyes and reveled in the gentle attention, almost afraid that it would come to an end if she even shifted position. 

Finally, she moved to her knees, straddling His legs, and kissed Him - a hot, hard, passionate, tongue-battling kiss accompanied by groping hands by both parties. Eleven days without Him had made her extremely horny, although the jog and shower had helped to calm that need temporarily. How that He was here, she intended to do everything she could to satisfy her need. 

He gently pushed her back, breaking the kiss, then kissed her between her breasts as she wrapped her arms around His head. For a few moments, He kept moving from breast to breast, licking and gently biting, before slowly moving up the sternum, kissing along the collarbone, and up to the neck.

she froze in horror as He repeatedly kissed her neck, in the same spot, again and again, over and over. Tears formed in her eyes, and she soon could not keep herself from sobbing softly. Yet she could not understand why He kept kissing her neck, despite the disappointment He must have felt upon seeing her without The Collar without His permission. 

Without thinking, she suddenly pushed herself away from Him, scrambled to a bowed kneeling position on the floor, and apologized profusely between her now-loud sobs. Inwardly, she was severely lashing herself for forgetting to put The Collar back on before rushing downstairs to greet Him. In her mind's eye, she could see the thin leather collar, its three diamonds sparkling, still resting upon the counter, next to her shampoo bottle and her brush. The vision she had carried with her for several days now - being pinned beneath His sturdy frame as He filled and refilled her core after the long business trip - shattered into the thousand pieces of a broken mirror. 

she watched His feet shift position as He stood before her, yet she dared not look up at Him. her body continued to shake visibly as she cried, the tears threatening to never cease. When she noticed His feet leave her field of vision - severely reduced by her own long, stringy hair - she was certain that He was removing His belt to administer a punishment. When she heard Him leave the room, she was certain that He was going to return with some other method of punishment, one which could be administered there in the main room. 

Perhaps ten minutes later, when she heard Him leave the house and start the car, she knew that He was indeed furious deep inside. 

It was nightfall when she finally dared to move from her position, her lower back especially sore from being arched for so long. Her body was now dry, except the streaks of her tears on her cheeks. With a little effort and discomfort, she rose to her feet and decided to look for a clue as to when He would return. 

After searching several obvious places in the house, she finally ventured into His den. In the center of the immaculate desk, she found a note which had not been there previously when she was cleaning. 

"Thursday-Sunday, $375." A telephone number was also given.

she recognized the telephone number from when she had made reservations for them in Chicago for their vacation a few weeks before. 

her heart sank as she sank once again to the floor, the tears flowing anew. This was her punishment: one extra day without having her dire need fulfilled.

Without A Clue



"Danielle, I can't believe it! Yes, I caught them together, right in our bed. They were doing it."

"What do you mean, what do I mean 'doing it'? God, do I have to spell it out? He and that hussy, Judy, the divorcee from down the street were having sex. Right in that bed. Our bed. It was a defilement is what it was. We never have sex in that bed. Good beds aren't for that.

"Where do we have sex, then? What has that got to do with anything? When I can't stand his complaining about it any more, and give in to him, I try to use the spare bedroom. That way I can get up and wash the sheets right after he's done.

"I just can't understand how he could do it. Do THAT. Do all those things I watched them do. Danielle, do you know that she took his thing right in her mouth? I watched it. She knelt right there and gave him a plumb job or whatever its called.

"Of course I would never do that. Do you think I'm some kind of pervert? He used to try to put his mouth on me too, right down there on my muffin. I told him and told him that good people don't do things like that. And he did it to her too! Right after she did whatever it was you called it, a hum job. They got head to toe in that 67 position I read about. He put his tongue right up in her. From the sounds of it I'm sure that she enjoyed it somehow. He seemed to do so to. I don't understand how.

"Now don't get me wrong Danielle. I'm a woman of the world. I know men have to have sex. And I know women have to go along with it. Enjoy it? What a ridiculous concept. I do my duty and tolerate it. I'm sure he does it as well as it can be done. I admit every now and then something very strange has come over me, and I find I'm enjoying it. I never tell him, of course, if I convulse, even though he wants to know. Why? As if I would give him any more encouragement! Bad enough as it is, or maybe, was. I'm not sure what's going to happen.

"I understand that being a wife entails some sacrifices. I have sex with him. Why it was just, what month is this? well, maybe not this year, but I'm sure it hasn't been more than 2 years. Three at the most. Is that any excuse for him rutting with her? For rolling on top of her and whooping and hollering like he was getting pleasure out of it? He never does with me.

"Speaking of that, I just offered him sex not 7 months ago on his birthday. I was in a hurry because I had promised Mable Jenkins I would go shopping with her. I was nearly late for it as it was, since my bridge game had run over. Well, I marched into the living room and told him to come on. I took my clothes off, hung them up and laid down on the bed. I spread my legs and closed my eyes and told him to hurry up. Do you know what happened? NOTHING! He told me he couldn't get it up, or around or something. So its not like I've never been generous. I am glad I didn't have to wash the sheets though.

"He certainly used to manage to get stiff before though. I just am so confused. Did you know I had to start locking the bathroom door when I took a bath because he would try to join me. Isn't that silly? Imagine, sex in the shower. Why you would just be getting all dirty in the tub. Then I had to start bringing my clothes in and getting dressed because he would tell me I looked 'sexy' dressed in a towel and try to touch me.

"You know Danielle, he hasn't said that in a long time. I wonder why? I admit it used to make me feel, well, a bit special. After all, he is a handsome man. But he was always touching me. No, not just like that. He was always trying to hold my hand, or put his arm around me. In public too, if you can believe it. I had to work very hard to break him of that habit. If I told him once I told him a thousand times, 'Teenagers act like that. Not responsible adults'. He would embarrass me so much by acting like that.

"How did I happen to finally catch them? Well you know I play canasta with my sewing circle members every Wednesday night. So much fun. Whenever I would get home I would tell him all about every hand we played and explain all the details. Of course he wanted to hear about it. I know he went to sleep once or twice but I'm sure that had nothing to do with it.

"Anyway, Cathy Andrews wasn't there. Do you know she took her husband to the hospital? I can understand going, it would save cab fare if she took him instead of sending him alone, but why would she stay there? On Wednesday night? So we had to cancel.

"I got home, watched some TV and read for a while. No, I didn't wonder where he was. What does he usually do on Wednesday? Why would I know? I'm sure he's told me before but I don't have time to pay attention.

"I went upstairs and there they were. I wondered what the noises where as I climbed the stairs but I never thought they could have anything to do with sex. But yes, both of them naked and in the bed. And after that aural sex... oh, I hesitate to tell you this Danielle. She got on her hands and knees and he went right into her from behind. He might have even, oh dear me, have touched her behind.

"Well I had enough. I wouldn't put up with that and I don't understand how even such a tramp as her could. Like she enjoyed it! So I marched in and demanded they stop.

"Do you know what he said? 'You're home early'. That was all. He didn't even seem ashamed of himself. What's worse, she didn't either. She even told me how wonderful he was. Absurd, I know. I told him I didn't see how he could be wonderful at anything. I'm sure I've never told him he was. All he said was 'that's the point'. The point of what?

"Danielle? What am I going to do? He left with her. I demanded to know where he thought he was going. I told him I had a lot to say and he replied 'Go ahead and say it. I won't be here, but that's never made any difference to you'. The they got dressed and they kissed each other. He gathered up some things and left. I don't think he heard a word I said. He acted like he'd heard it all before.

"Danielle, this doesn't make any sense. How could he even think of leaving me. He loves me. He used to say it all the time too. Do I love him? Of course I do. Tell him? I'm sure I have sometime. What could she possibly offer him that he's not getting here from me?

"Danielle? The connection seems to be breaking up. I can hardly hear you. You sound like you're laughing. You sound like you're having hysterics. Try to catch your breath. You sound like a hyena. Danielle! Talk to me. Get control of yourself. What could be so funny? I don't understand..."

(The End) 



Without A Clue - The Other Side



(A while ago I wrote a story titled, strangely enough "Without A Clue" about a woman who couldn't figure out why her husband would cheat on her. Fair is fair. I thought it was time we looked at the flip side.)

*

"Sam! It's Fred! You're not going to believe this I know. Janette has left me!

"I know! I can't understand it myself. Whatever happened to 'talking it out', or whatever it was she used to say? All the time she was on about 'talk to me, talk to me, talk to me'. Drove me nuts. Now not a word from her. I tried as much as any husband ever could, I know it.

"When did she leave? I'm not sure. Whadda ya mean, whadda I mean I'm not sure? I'm just not, that's all. After work yesterday I stopped at Flannigan's as usual. I had a few beers, shot some pool, ate a couple of orders of wings and watched the football game for a while. I came home at half-time, grabbed the beer in the refrigerator and watched the rest of the game in my recliner. I must have dozed off. I woke up sometime during the night and went to bed.

"I got up this morning and went to have breakfast. I sat down at the table and waited. And waited. No coffee there and no breakfast. After a while I got impatient and yelled for Janette. I mean. heaven knows I was patient enough. She knows better. She is supposed to have everything ready for me before she goes to work.

"Well I sat there and sat there. I yelled some more. What? No, I don't mean YELL at her, not the way you seem to be implying. Not loud anyway. I keep my temper. Sure, there was that time when I asked her to get my creel and she slipped off that rotten log and fell into the river. That was something to yell about. She disturbed the water so bad I didn't get a decent cast for the rest of the day. And to top it off she lost my creel while she was swimming to shore. Course it did look mighty funny watching her splash around screaming that she was drowning. I did appreciate you going in after her as she went down for the third time. I would have but I thought I had a bite. Turned out to be a damn snag. Now THERE was a disappointment.

"So she never showed up. I finally walked around the house and couldn't find her. Her car is gone and I looked in the bathroom. Why there? Shows you how much YOU know about women. I was checking to see if all of her doodads and makeup and such things were still cluttering her part of the bathroom. They weren't. I looked for her clothes. They're all gone too.

"A note? I never thought of that. Hold on, let me look.

"By golly, you were right Sam! It was on our bed. I must not have seen it last night. It was on her side, that's why. A lot of times she doesn't sleep there but in the other room. I dunno, something about beer breath all the time and snoring. As if I snore. Well, not enough to bother anyone. What do you mean, rattling the windows three doors down?

"What does the note say? Oh I forgot about that. Give me a moment...

"Oh, all its says is 'Had enough, I'm gone. You know why.'

"What does she mean? I don't know why. I don't have any idea. Wasn't I always a good husband? Didn't I always tell her when she was gaining weight? Make those cute 'porky, porky' sounds for her whenever it was needed? Didn't I always answer truthfully when she asked if some outfit made her look fat? Or when she thought about working out at the gym and I told her there wasn't any point in it, women her age should just accept that they're too old for that stuff.

"And wasn't I there for her sexually? I gave it to her all the time. Why last week we had sex five times. FIVE. How many husbands do that? I let her blow me four times and once I pounded her to glory. Well, hell, of course she liked those blow jobs. It gets her off, or whatever. I know, I saw that movie "Deep Throat". And when I give my woman a fucking, I GIVE it to her. I throw her right onto the bed and give her my big old Polish Sausage. Ha-ha.

"Oh don't start with that foreplay crap. She used to bitch about it all the time too. Why that last time I spent two, maybe even three minutes getting her ready, before I slipped it to her. And as always I satisfied her. Why, she kicked and yelled under me and beat on my back. So there! I don't understand, what does my being twice her weight have anything to do with it? Are you implying I'm too heavy to be getting on top of her? A beached whale? What the hell are you talking about Sam? A man's got a right to add a few pounds. Its a woman's responsibility to keep herself trim.

"Of course I was always romantic. Didn't I take her bowling for her birthday? I bought her a new power saw too. Oh, yeah, I guess that was last year. What's the date again? And I know I forgot our anniversary. But hey, now I made that up to her. Well, I thought I had. I still can't figure that one out. She was so damn excited when I told her we were going to the coast. Then we get there and she suddenly wants to go home! What could be better, duck hunting all weekend long out in the marshes on the flyway? I'd even set it up so we could stay out there the whole weekend. And she spent the whole weekend complaining and whining as though she wasn't having a good time. 

"Oh, good LORD Fred! I just realized something, something REALLY important. Forget all the rest of it. My baby... its her time... she needs that special touch... but, but, WHO is going to wash and polish my truck? 

"Sam, what am I going to do? The sink is full of dishes and my laundry is dirty and the lawn needs mowing. I'm hungry! I can't figure out how to use this can opener and I nearly set the house on fire trying to cook bacon. I thought you could cook anything in the microwave. Eggs sure do make a mess in there and who's going to clean THAT up?

"Sam, I don't understand what's going on. Its like she doesn't love me anymore. I can't think of the last time she said that. I don't know, its nice hearing that, I guess. She used to sit on the arm of my chair and put her arms around me and tell me that. I don't think she's done that in a long time, well, not since you and Sara were over that time. I know, I shouldn't have snapped at her and told her to get out of the way, but I WAS watching a baseball game. You know, I can't recall who was playing, or anything about that game, but I remember the look on her face. She must have known I didn't really mean it. Didn't she?

"I mean, you don't have to say those things do you? She must have known it all, right? She had to have. A guy doesn't need to tell her or show her that he loves her. That damn 'feminine intuition' should take care of that. 

"She'll be back I'm sure. Women! They're so helpless anyway. Never can do anything by themselves, you know.

"Oh Sam, before I let you go. Do you have any idea how to work a coffee pot?"

(The End)

*

(Guys, I KNOW you're not really THIS bad. Well, not all the time. Well, not everything at once. Thank you Marian, as always, for your suggestions and support) 



Without A Name



I sit here trying hard to remember Him. I didn't have a name. I had a slight remembrance of a face. I had met him last night, for the first time and probably the only time. 

I was at a bar. It was dark. I was lonely. Sitting enjoying a few drinks. He came to sit next to me. We spoke for quite sometime. We seemed to share similar interests. The love of literature, music, politics, history. The conversation flowed smoothly into the night. His voice. So Sexy. So alluring. We enjoyed drink after drink. As it grew later, everyone seemed to be drifting out of the bar. He had invited me to his apartment. I was a bit aroused, but having met him for the first time, I declined. How 'sluttish' would it be if I accepted? He didn't pursue it though. We had our last drink and he offered to walk me out of the bar. 

Stepping out, we crossed the street, then headed to the parking lot. As I got to my car with him a step behind me, I turned around to say 'goodnight'; I was met with a set of lips, as He kisses me. I was surprised, but only a little, for my arousal took over and I responded warmly. Opening my mouth to his probing tongue, enjoying the warmth of hip lips. He began to rub his hand over my back, exposed by the halter I was wearing. I was jolted to reality by the feel of his hand against my skin. I found myself enjoying and responding way more than I had intended to. He murmured against my lips, inviting me again to his house. Yet again I refuse. 

He continued embracing me and I melted into his hands. He began kissing me again, roaming his tongue over my lips and teeth, dueling with my tongue, driving me wild with arousal from deep within. His hands crept lower to my ass. I pushed back unto his hands as he kneaded my cheeks. I was so hot, so horny so aroused. One hand went to the hem of my mini and he asked me to go with him yet again. I couldn't give in. I was battling with my conflicting feeling. I wanted this to happen, badly, but how could I go with him, a man I just met, a man I barely knew. 

He brought one hand up and gently rubbed my breast through the material of my top. I felt my nipples grow firmer with his touch. He sought it out and pinched it. The contact sent a shiver through my body right to my very core. I found myself pushing my breast further into his hand He massaged them, while his other hand kneaded my cheek. 

I began telling myself that this will stop, that it won't go further, it cant go further. He will stop soon. I wont let him go further. Whatever it take. I wont go back to his place. I shouldn't. 

Then I felt his hand slip underneath my skirt, now kneading my bare cheek. His fingers felt wonderful on my ass. I moaned against his lips. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand left my ass and crept around to my front, to my mound, first rubbing my through the thin material of my thong. Then he slid his finger underneath the fabric at my crotch, slowly tickling my pussy lips. I gasped at this invasion, which was undoubtedly a pleasant one. I bucked my hips against his hand. 

We continued our lusty, fierce kiss and using his other hand, he pulled my halter up, above my breasts and they bounced free. He tore his lips away from my and they immediately sought my nipples, moving from one to the next. I felt my knees go weak. 

Amidst my excitement, I heard the unmistakable sound of footstep and then voices. I was reminded of where we were. I panicked. Once again He said 'lets go', refusal was at my lips, but the 'no' couldn't come out. I slowly shook my head. I couldn't believe that he had me in this spot. I couldn't believe I let him have me in this spot. I did nothing to stop his exploration of my body. Why was I giving in to him. Why was I resisting him? 

He resumed his suckling on my breasts as his fingers continue to expertly ply my sex. He leaves my mound, only to begin tugging my thong down over my hips and as if operated my remote, as the hit my ankles, I steeped out of them. I was so aroused, I need to be made love to, I needed to get release. 

He leaned me back unto the car as both his hands knead my breasts. He leaned in against me, and I felt his bulge rub against my pussy as he ground his hips into mine. I moaned as he continued teasing my mound with his cock. I felt my wetness flow out of my, oozing down my legs. I needed this man. I needed the cause of his bulge. One hand released my breast and he reached down unzipping his fly, releasing his cock and I felt it against my pussy. His hand sought mine and he guided it to his cock. I did not resist him, nor did I let go as his hand left mine. He felt so silkily hard beneath my touch. 

His hand returned to my wet entrance and he quickly plunged his finger into my cunt. I gasped at the suddenness of it, and I instinctively humped against his hand. As fast as he had entered, he left. He began running his finger along my slit, finding my clit ever so often, gently rubbing it. He emitted a guttural moan into my breasts, and only then did I realize I had began stroking his cock. 

His fingers at my pussy and teeth on my nipples had me at great height of erotic excitement. I wanted him so badly right now. Never before had I given into a complete stranger like this. Never before had I submitted to anyone like this. Not in . . . .PUBLIC... As if my thoughts stirred this action, I saw a vehicle turning off the street entering into the lot. For a moment we were in full view within its beams, and then we were back in darkness. The fear of being discovered filled me, but soon that fear, mixed with the excitement and arousal caused the rubbing of my clit, which he never ceased, dueled into something greater. Something I had never experienced before. An all new height of ecstasy, all new height of excitement. My hips were rocking back and forth to the command of his fingers. 

The car stopped some 50 feet away from us and soon the doors shut. 

He slid his finger into my wet pussy, causing me to moan, attracting their attention. They turned towards us, seemingly attempting to make out our images in the darkness. They stayed next to their car as if uncertain as to what to do. 

He now pulled away from me. Only then did I think of what I looked like as I stood with my top pulled up over my breast, my skirt hiked up to my waist and my panty on the ground. He turned my around and I felt the cool breeze against my ass. I was now facing the car and he pushed me forward unto it, my breasts flattening against the cold glass and metal of the car. 

My body responded all on its own, my legs spread with no conscious thought. Again he reached around grasping at my pussy. 

He rolled my clit between my fingers and ground his cock against my ass. I pushed back against him. I heard some sounds come from the direction and I began to motion to him for us to stop, maybe we could go into the car, I thought. My suggested cam too late, as I was cut off only after a couple words, as he entered me. I couldn't restrain the moan that escaped. He pumped a few times in me then stopped only to tug at my clit. I was experiencing many sensations. The sensation of him filling me, fucking me, the sensation of my throbbing clit, the sensation of my nipples rubbing against the coldness of the care, the new found sensation of being in public. I as totally out of control. I could no longer care less of the couple there watching us, or of the fact that this man was a stranger. I was standing here in the middle of a parking lot, with my body exposed, being fucked by this man. . . and loving it. . . every moment of it. 

I was no longer caring that there was a couple that could probably see me. I stopped telling myself that they couldn't see. I altogether stopped thinking about them. I was only thinking about my body. My body and its sensations. Sensations that were raging through me. 

His hand never ceased its wonders on my clit, and he continued to stimulate me the entire time. I was only able to react to what was happening to me here. The cold of the car against my body, his cock being buried in my pussy, his hand rubbing my clit in time to his plunging. I was overwhelmed by it all and my body began its course into one of the most powerful orgasms I remembered. 

His strokes came harder and faster now, and his assault on my clit picked up. He bent forward, biting into my back, muffling a groan, as he came, and I joined him, calmer this time, but sweeter... In the car lights ... On a public parking lot... As people watch; Taking it from behind bent over a car by a man whose face I now try to remember . . . and I loved it.



Without a Name



I awoke to a police siren wailing in the distance, and as my eyes opened slowly I saw the faint glow of orange in the darkened sky through my patio window. Fucking cities. Even at five thirty in the morning the sky was still far from being completely black. It's as if the entire city is freaked out by the fucking dark, and so they've just traded the stars in for a giant nightlight. 

I shifted off my couch slowly, making sure that I didn't wake the naked girl sleeping with her arm around me. I lay her arm down gently on the small space where my body had just been laying. I slowly wiggled my ass into a pair of jeans sitting on the floor, doing my best to stifle a yawn. After I nearly tripped over myself and onto sleeping beauty I grabbed a tee shirt that was lying on the floor next to me. I was just stepping out for a smoke, no need to get fancy with things like panties or a bra.

Looking around my trashed living room I searched for a pack of smokes, but instead was just faced with random piles of clothes, loose papers and pretty much every other object that ended up interjecting itself into my life. Almost every surface had either cigarette ashes, weed crumbs or a random assortment of different light powders. I struggled to remember the night before. My mind was filled with Hollywood lines, drunken wandering hands and music blaring loud enough to drown out the shit band that was playing below us. 

That was a rather rude thing to say, seeing as how it was my buddies band, and as far as I could tell at that point we had met at their show. But to be frank, the group of drunks couldn't carry a tune to save their fucking lives. They could have always tried to just call themselves punk, except for the fact that they dressed more like a dandy camper then Oscar Wilde ever did.

The only reason why I was even there to begin with was because the only bar that would ever have them play just happened to be directly below my place. 

For short periods of time I have to admit that I enjoyed a nice little routine between my bouts of chaos.

Finally I spotted a half empty pack of cheap smokes beside the coffee table on the floor. I opened the dilapidated pack and pulled out two of the partially flattened smokes, sticking one behind my ear and the other between my lips. 

Shuffling quietly I made my way through the piles and around the bongs to the door and slid out as quiet as possible. Closing the sliding door behind me I saw last night's friend roll over and mutter something incoherent under her breath. Fuck, I couldn't remember her name. 

Considering we spent a rather large portion of the evening talking a million miles a minute about absolutely everything that came to mind it would be assumed that I would have some trace memory of what it was. I remember starring at her perfect bow lips as she rambled on about how she had been double majoring for her undergrad, talking about how she used to rail lines of almost any upper she could get her hands on just to stay awake long enough to get her papers done. But in the end found that showing her male teachers her tits to get extensions on her papers to be a little easier then destroying her sleep patterns. 

Somewhat ironic considering we had just stayed up for the past twentysix hours doing nothing but talking, drinking coffee and booze, hitting tokes and railing massive lines of everything we had been able to business even with shit bands obviously has certain benefits, such as patrons who sell rather colourful varieties of party favours. 

Dropping myself onto the dusty faded couch that occupied my patio, I fetched one of the lighters from the nearby plant stand that serviced as a table and lit my smoke.

The couch was never meant to stay on my porch, but was too thick for the stairwell so we hoisted up, nearly breaking the bars front windows in the process, only to realize that my patio door was also too small. Thankfully all of my furniture had been swiped from the side of the road on garbage day, so I wasn't overly worried about the loss of any cash. 

That being said, not too many buddies are that keen on letting me de-bug plush furniture in their garages for a couple weeks. 

The couch was well suited where it sat though, and was often home to one or more of my friends, outdone by the night and content to rest where ever there was a safe soft spot crash. 

Taking another drag, I felt the nicotine hit me as the smoke filled my lungs and made my head spin. I never understood when people said that smoking woke them up, for me it always made me feel so much drowsier, and enclosed in my own head.

I pulled my legs up so I was sitting indian style and it felt like for an instant I had just taken another bump of everything we had been putting up our noses. My body went light, as if every nerve was pleasantly electrified sending the wave up and through my scalp, and causing me to make a face. I had mad pasties and wish I had something close by I could take a swig of. I barely knew the girl on my couch and wasn't going to risk waking her by sneaking through my house with a lit cigarette just to grab a drink. I opted for just trying to spit over the railing, but was classy enough to hit it dead on instead. My mouth tasted bitter, thanks all the chemicals, but nothing distinct enough aside from the obvious coke to really determine what had ensued the night (day?) prior.

Towards the beginning of the night I can remember taking money out of an ATM, however the quantity is far from being anywhere close to my memory. Not that that is much of an issue. A couple years ago I discovered the joys of webcam modeling, and have been living a bountiful life ever since.

I can understand how this may be looked down upon by a rather large group of people. Those people can go fuck themselves, in the ass, with a wooden spoon. It's really none of my concern what their opinion is of my line of work. I pay my taxes like every other mother fucker- majority of CEO's, bankers and politicians are fully exempt from that for the most obvious of reasons. 

Now what people say about you is really none of your business. But when asked what I do, I will never fucking shy away from the truth, and if someone thinks they have the stage to say whatever the hell comes to their mind, then I am obviously going to take the same courtesy. 

I was snapped out of my train of thought when I heard the patio door open quietly beside me and the bow lipped beauty stepped out, with her long black hair tumbling around her shoulders. She had nothing but a blanket wrapped around her body, exposing just enough cleavage to make me start to get wet again.

"I was worried you had left..."

The women had the sweetest fucking voice. She shuffled towards me and cuddled in close, exposing more of her naked body to cover me with the blanket. I brought the cigarette to her lips and as she took a drag I told her that I would never leave like that.

Which to be quite honest is a blatant lie. Maybe at this point I would never leave her like that, but that does not mean that I haven't left others like that, or kicked others out in rather abrupt and rude manners, with absolutely no regard for the person.

But I wouldn't do that to her after a night quite like that, and a body quite like hers.

She shifted and moved so that she had hiked up the shirt I was wearing, exposing my midriff and causing me to be on my back, wither her on all fours practically on top of me.

"Are you sure you don't want to take this inside?" 

She just giggled and shook her head no, undoing my pants with one hand while the other found its way to my now exposed breast and avidly began to fondle me aggressively. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back onto the couch's arm rest, arching my back to feel more of her on me.

Before I could have even motioned to stop her, she had my pants around my ankles, and was devouring my pussy, barely even bothering to keep the blanket covering us.

My hands instantly moved to her head, pulling her mouth even closer to my now soaked pussy. She used her tongue to go into me and flicked her tongue over my clit sending shivers up my spine. Her hands moved to grab my ass, leaving pink claw marks as she dragged her nails across my ribs and down my back before finally sinking them into my flesh.

I moaned in pleasure and pulled harder on her hair, wrapping my legs around her head, knocking the blanket off us completely. For anyone in the building across the street from us that could see over my balcony wall was getting one hell of a show.

I looked down and saw her perfect heart shaped ass pushed in the air, allowing her to have better access to my sensitive area. Feeling another orgasm begin to wash over me my head lulled back again, feeling my pussy throb from pleasure. Once I was able to catch my breath I moved to sit up, and managed to spank her leaving a red hand mark, before she knocked my down, with a forceful hand on my throat.

Biting my lip, I looked up at this sexy dominator. Her pupils were extremely dilated, as I imagined mine were, but it just left her looking all the more ravishing, and sex hungry.

Her hand stayed on my throat, applying pressure as she moved her lips to my perky nipples. Keeping her eyes locked with mine, she began to suck and nibble. Next, I felt her free hand between my legs, running her fingers up and down my slit, causing me to become even wetter then she had already made me. Her lips left my skin only for a moment for her to giggle, although she resumed with a painful bite.

As my body moved to jump from the sudden pain, she slid two fingers deep inside me , and used my own force to press down even harder on my throat. She giggled again, and bit down causing me to squirm, resulting in once again her pressing down harder on my throat, and fitting another finger deep inside me. With the most innocent tone in her voice she smiled and whispered, "The more you resist, the rougher I'm going to get."

I stopped squirming and nodded. Her smile only grew bigger and she went back to sucking on my nipples, and began to forcefully fuck my soaking wet pussy with her fingers, ramming them in as fast and hard as she could, causing me to come again and again.

She took this as squirming, and decided to reward me with another painful bite and finger. My pussy was now filled, and I feared to squirm again in case she decided it wasn't enough still. I came again and again and she fucked me hard and rhythmically, all the while still biting at my nipples and chest. I fought off every urge to move best I could but had little doubt in my mind that she would consider it enough for more.

Finally I felt an orgasm shake through my body that I couldn't manage to keep at bay. My back arched, and she pushed her fingers as deep as they could possibly go. I let out a moan, and she squeezed even harder on my throat causing me to almost convulse up and down underneath her. As I felt my muscles begin to relax, she slid her fingers out from my quivering lips, her hand left my throat, and rested her chin on my chest, looking up at me intently, as if waiting for a response to some question I had completely missed her asking.

Panting heavily, I finally was able to breathe somewhat regularly. Another sweet smile, and again the amazingly innocent voice, "That was fun, we should do that again, I left my name and number on your coffee table."

Before I could say two words, she was off of me and back in my apartment. I struggled to pull my top back down, and get my pants back up before I stumbled in after her, only to find her almost fully dressed, mini dress and six inch heels, slipping on next to nothing panties.

Standing up, she managed to grab her jacket and purse in one quick swoop. She blew me a kiss and was out the door.



Without a Paddle



    Hi folks. MTB and I are glad that most of you liked last week's story. I almost wish that I could put out part 2 of it this weeks and keep that good feeling going. But that would be boring after a while. I also knw that a lot of you probably won't like this week's piece, but there's always next week. As I look back over this year and what I wanted to do, I think that for the most part I was successful, but I failed in others. I think that this year I wanted to take a step towards growth and becoming a better storyteller. I've been here for a little bit over 2 years now and I started the year thinking that I wanted to write a few stories without all of the gimmicks like time travel or stories set in the future or the past. I wanted to write stories about regular people like those two writers here that I look up to. So in that aspect maybe I was successful. But I think that next year all bets are off. we are going to get bizarre in 2013. SS06

*   *   *   *   *   *

My name is Mark Dawson. I'm fifty five years old and retired. I retired early because I busted my ass during my younger years and got ahead. For years, every bonus and every stock option went into my retirement account. When my peers drove BMW's or their Benzes, I stuck with my Mustangs. While my coworkers moved into their Mc-Mansions in the country, I stayed in my modest home in the suburbs.

The result of all of that frugality is that I have more than enough money for my wife and me to continue spoiling our college aged son while we live the life we've always wanted. We have several vacations planned for the next few months as I settle into retirement.

But first, we have to let Mark Jr. get used to college. He still comes home every weekend. Not that we mind, but it's going to take some time to cut the chains. I guess you thought I was going to say apron strings huh? Nope, my son and I are very close. He's a chip off the old block and yep, he was home for the weekend on that fateful day when my life changed. My life was changed by four fucking words.

As hard as it is to believe, four words ruined all of those years of hard work. And as fate would have it those words, "When....Wait a minute! I'm not telling you the words yet. That would give the story away too quickly. Some of you guys have been whining about me revealing the gist of the story too soon. So even though I'm pretty sure you already know what the words are, we're going to wait a bit. So let's go back to that morning before the words were said so you have some context.

I used to be 5 foot 10 inches tall. And I used to have ruggedly handsome features. My hair used to be a medium brown shade. I guess some of it still is brown but there's a lot of gray mixed in with the brown. My eyes are still blue and I can still get the odd woman or two to look my way when I want. But I haven't wanted that in almost thirty years.

You see, I fell in love back in my late twenties and never looked back. For most of my life only one woman has ever owned my heart. And she's sleeping right next to me as she should.

Miriam, my wife, is still as beautiful today as she was the day I met her. Okay, she has a few more lines on her face, but when I look at her now, I see her as she was. Miri was built like a brick ship yard then and she is to this day. Maybe the bricks have shifted a bit, but they're still there.

I woke up that fateful day thinking that I was still dreaming. I was dreaming that I was in Heaven, but it was like no Heaven I'd ever seen in any church. In this version of Heaven, an angel was giving me a blow job. The dream was so vivid that I could feel those velvety lips surrounding my rapidly engorging dick. Those lips were warm and wet and I felt love oozing from them. That angel apparently loved what she was doing.

"Mark, stop pretending you're asleep," she said laughing. I opened my eyes and realized that it wasn't a dream.

"Miri...I was in Heaven," I sighed.

"Well, this thing is hard enough to do me some good now," she laughed. She gave my blood filled appendage one last loving lick and climbed into the bed beside me. Her slim arms snaked their way around my neck even as she pulled me to her. One leg snaked across my hip opening herself up to me. Our mouths found each other in the darkness of the early morning. After so many years together, our bodies knew what to do and where to go. More importantly, we knew what to do to give each other pleasure.

I knew, for instance, that she was more aroused by gentle kisses on the front of her neck than on either side. I also knew that if I blew on her nipples, they responded better than if I tweaked them or sucked on them. Miri liked sex period, but when it was gentle and filled with love, it didn't take very much or very long to send her into orbit.

"Mark, there's something you need to know," she said seriously.

"Oh shit, not the words," I said as I gently stroked her sides.

"What words silly man?" she asked. She took my still rampant dick and pushed the head of it inside of her opening. We both savored the magic of the feeling of that first penetration. Just the feeling of having my dick inside of her was making me crazy. I wanted more than anything to push my way inside of her until only my balls were left outside. I waited because we both wanted to savor the feelings and make the pleasure last.

"I have a feeling that you're about to say the words again," I said. "You know, like you told me twenty years ago. You said, "We're gonna be parents."

"We're a little old for that," she said and kissed me. As she said it, she pushed her hips forward until half of my dick was inside of her. "Besides, bearing your son kind of messed up my insides so having another, as much as I'd love to give you another baby, would probably kill me."

"Okay, no more babies," I said. "That means we're just doing this for fun then." I softly pushed forward until I'd bottomed out in her. She rolled over until I was on top of her. She pulled my head down and stuck her tongue in my mouth. She started thrusting her hips and rolling them at the same time. I'd been with a few other women before her and I'd seen my share of porn but I've never seen a woman move the way she did. And it wasn't only the moves, it was the way she squeezed my dick with her vaginal muscles. For all that the blow job felt like Heaven, it paled in comparison to being inside of her.

   She started to moan and clutched herself to me. She wrapped her legs around my waist and squeezed the head of my dick even tighter.

"Mark, please baby, cum in me. I can't hold out much longer," she gushed. I started fucking her back, but even faster. Not harder, because that would have ruined it. I just started moving faster.

"I love you Miri," I said softly. It was the wrong thing to say because it drove her over the edge way too soon. Her legs clamped around my waist so tightly that I could barely move. I felt every spasm of her vagina as it fluttered over and over again trying to milk sperm from me. The fluttering was so intense that it drove me to my own orgasm. I started pumping my seed where it was supposed to go.

Neither of us moved. The only movement necessary happened inside of her. We continued to kiss and I had the feeling that we were linked. I knew in that moment that I loved her more than it would ever be possible for me to love another human being and I knew in the bottom of my soul that she felt the same way.

"What the hell are you guys doing in there?" yelled my son, Mark, from just outside the door. "All I hear is breathing and slurping and smacking."

"Rape," I yelled. "I was asleep and then this woman attacked me."

"Mark Jr., get back in your bed and don't come out until morning or I say so," yelled Miri.

"Uhm, Mom, that worked really well when I was four," said Mark. "But, number one, it's already morning and number two; I'm kind of grown now. Besides, aren't you two too old for what I think you were doing?"

"Okay, then," she said smiling at me. "Go back to your room or I won't make your frigging raspberry pancakes and I won't let your dad do whatever stupid thing that you had planned for the two of you to do before the barbecue."

"Oh, shit," said Mark Jr. "I'm going to my room, Mom. When exactly will those pancakes be ready?"

"Screw him," she said. "Let's get back to what we were doing. I'm sure I can squeeze another one out of you if I..."

"Honey, what were you about to tell me?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," she said. "It's something you already know, I guess. But I've been thinking a lot lately. Maybe I'm just getting old, but, shit you are too. Anyway, I've been thinking about my life and it's been perfect. What I mean is that if I had to plan my life out and pick the person to spend it with, it would be you. I love you Mark, with all my heart and soul. I belong to you."

"I know that, Miri," I said. "I've always known that."

"No Honey you don't," she said seriously. "People say it all the time. You and I know people who've been married for longer than we have who are only together for their kids and they say it. We know people who can't stand the sight of each other and they say it. Everyone says the words Mark, but very few people actually mean it. And I just want you to know that I really do."

"Well, thank you Miri, now about those pancakes...You did say raspberry, didn't you?" I asked.

"Aren't you going to say something back, mister?" she asked.

"What kind of syrup goes with raspberry pancakes?" I asked. She bit her lip. "Miriam, I didn't say it because there's really no need for me to. When we were together a few minutes ago, we were truly one. I could feel everything you felt and every breath you took. How you felt about me came through loud and clear and I'm pretty sure the way I felt went through to you. That's why people make love, Miri. That feeling of closeness and being one is what it's all about. If you don't get that feeling, you're just fucking and it doesn't really matter who you're doing it with."

"That's exactly how I feel," she said, "You do understand." There were tears running down her eyes and I wondered about women sometimes.

"Mark, I've never made love with anyone except you," she said.

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "What about those pancakes?" As she started to get out of the bed, I grabbed her and ran my hand over her pussy.

"I'll be wanting some more of this later Missy," I smirked. As she moved her leg, a bit of our mixed fluids dripped out. She reached over and grabbed my hand and scooped some of it up on my fingers. Then she licked my fingers and smiled at me.

"Anytime you want it, Mark," she said seriously. "It, like all the rest of me, belongs to you."

I took a shower while she started breakfast. When I got to the kitchen my son was already eating. As his mom brought another stack of pancakes to the table, he reached for them. I swear I saw sparks coming from his knife and fork.

"MJ, those are for your Dad," said Miri sharply. "You're already working on your second stack. Don't they feed you at school? Why are we paying all of that money for room and board if you're starving?"

"Dad, you're only going to eat three pancakes," said Mark Jr. "Do you want me to eat the other three for you?"

"Uhm, did you ever think that maybe your mother might like to eat something herself?" asked Miriam.

"When did you start eating mom?" laughed Mark Jr. "Isn't that how you stay so slim and trim? Don't you skip breakfast?"

"No, I don't skip breakfast," said Miri.

"Then maybe you should start," said Mark Jr., reaching for the pancakes. After he finished eating he just sat there staring at me like a puppy waiting to go out.

"Okay son," I said. "What are we doing?" Whenever Mark was home, he and I always did something for fun. We alternated who got to pick the activity and we always tried to do things that we'd never done before. Just as he was about to tell me there was a knock at out back door.

I looked at the door and my next door neighbor and longtime best friend, George Wilson stepped in. George had been the COO of a medium sized marketing firm for most of his career until he'd retired four years earlier. George was ten years older than me at 65 but was still pretty active. If Miri and I were ecstatic about my retirement, George was equally so. Being retired alone was no fun. He had all of that free time and no one to spend it with. 

He'd already made plans for the two of us to go golfing and a bunch of other things that we liked to do. Our families had always been very close. We spent most holidays together. It was only a question of which house or which yard.

"Knock-knock," said George. "The neighbors are here early. Well, one of them anyway. Cora is still putting her face on." Cora was George's wife. Cora is, at forty eight, seven years younger than I am and seventeen years younger than George. They'd never had any kids. George had scandalized his family and most of his friends when he married an eighteen year old girl a few days past his thirty-fifth birthday.

Many people thought that she was only after him for his money. And others felt that he'd robbed the cradle, but the two of them had stuck together through thick and thin for thirty years now. I guess a marriage that survives proves all of the naysayers wrong.

George had been a very dynamic business man before he retired. He was as smart as a whip and very outgoing. Cora, on the other hand, was as smart as a box of rocks, but as sweet as the day is long. She and Miri are best friends and probably couldn't be more opposite if they tried.

Miri is tiny and compactly built. She has breasts that are big for her frame but really not very large at all. She has a tiny pouch on her stomach and a few veins on her legs but she's fifty-four years old. Cora is a lot taller and very busty. Cora proves that God has a sense of humor.

  She has the biggest boobs in the world and absolutely no ass at all. In fact, sitting must be painful for Cora, because there can't be enough flesh over the bones in the rear of her pelvis to even cushion the contact with a chair. If Cora didn't have an ass crack, no one would know where her legs stopped and her back began.

As George sat down at the breakfast table, Mark continued speaking.

"Okay Dad, here's your iPhone back. Or do you want mine?" he said.

"Does it make a difference?" I asked.

"Nope not at all," he said. He was so excited, I was sure he was going to explode. I took my phone. Mine was an iPhone 4GS just like his. Neither of us had upgraded to the iPhone 5 yet because when the 5 came out we were both only one year into our two year contract. Miri still used an iPhone 3G. She didn't care about improvements in technology, so her 4 year old phone was still fine.

"Turn on your GPS app," said Mark Jr.

"Do you see that set of coordinates in your destination folder?" he asked.

"Yep," I said, wondering what he had in mind. "I have a similar set of coordinates to another spot in the same area. Notice that they are the exact same distance away from where we are now."

"Oh, shit," I said. "What's there?" I knew now that this was another kooky race that Mark had planned out for us. He was obsessed over whose Mustang was faster. My son drives a 2004 Mustang GT. His car is midnight blue with Lemans stripes. He has customized nearly everything on the car.

I have a 2010 Mustang GT. Mine is midnight blue as well, and I have to admit that I've added a few bits and pieces to my car, but only in self-defense. I mean, when Mark added a three inch exhaust system to his car, I had to do it to mine. I bought him a big brake kit for Christmas last year, so naturally just to be fair, I had to have one too. It was like the cold war between the US and the Russians, only ours was friendly.

"Well, Dad, since you asked," he smirked. "There's a small metal box chained under a picnic table at exactly those coordinates. Inside of the box, there's one of those cupcakes that Mom made yesterday. You will also be able to see the large clock in the park there from your coordinates. You have to drive there and take a picture of the clock which will show what time you got there. Then eat half of the cupcake and take a picture of it. Then eat the other half of the cupcake and take a picture of the empty wrapping. Finally, take a picture of the clock when you're done with the cupcake and then drive home. The person with the shortest drive time wins. If we tie, I win."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Why do you win if we tie? You have an advantage over me. You eat a hell of a lot faster than I do. You'll probably inhale that cupcake."

"Yes, but you have more horsepower," he said.

"But your car handles better," I countered. "Our cars are probably evenly matched."

"Well, you always win when we do these things," he spat. "And I think I deserve an advantage. I want to win a couple of these things before you're too old to have them anymore. I am a winner, Dad."

"You're more of a whiner, son," I smirked.

"Oh yeah," he said.

"Yeah," I snapped right back.

"Uhm can I..." began George. Mark Junior looked at him as if he'd just shit in the punchbowl. As our eyes turned towards him, George smiled nervously.

"Can I get into this?" he asked.

"Mr. Wilson your BMW is cute," said Mark. "I'm sure you paid a lot of money for it. But that car has no balls and no soul. You wouldn't stand a chance. Besides that we only have two targets set up and you don't have the coordinates to either. How good is the GPs on your phone?"

"How do you know that my car can't keep up?" asked George.

"Two years ago, before I did most of the upgrades on my Mustang," began Mark Jr. "Your nephew, Carl, was here for the summer. Do you remember that?" George nodded his head.

"You gave Carl the car so he could drive it to the movies. He raced against me and a couple of my friends. Carl had an advantage because I love my car. I wouldn't do anything to hurt her, EVER..."

"I wonder who he gets that from," yelled Miri, from the other room.

"Anyway, Carl drove your car like he stole it. If you remember, when he left you had to get your brakes redone and some engine work. I smoked him, Mr. Wilson. It was not even close. And my car is a lot faster now," said Mark Jr. "You should..."

"Well, what if I just ride along with you, or your dad?" said George. "Come on, I want to play too."

"Uh uhn. No way," said Mark Junior. "That's all I need is to have him calling for a foul because you weighed his car down. His car is already heavier than mine, which helps with the horsepower differential."

"Then I'll ride with you," said George.

"You'd throw up before we ever got there," said Mark. "I gave Batman driving lessons." Then he looked over at me.

"Dad, here's your keys," he said.

"Thanks junior," I said. "I'll have a beer waiting for you when you get back."

"Ha, ha...GO," he yelled and then we were both scrambling to get out of the house and into our cars. I got into my car a second after he did, but I got moving faster. I was clear of the driveway a fraction of a second before he was and pulled into the lead. Both of us kept our cars at twenty-five mph as we drove through the neighborhood. But as soon as we got onto a main road, he swung wide and tried to over take me. I floored it and even though the car was already moving, the sudden increase in torque caused the ass end of my car to fishtail. Mark Jr. shot past me.

"Ha, ha, too much horsepower old man," I head him yell through his window. We hit the freeway with me right on his bumper and him jerking his wheel from side to side to keep me from passing him on the ramp. Mark Jr. knew that once we got to the freeway, I'd over take him on the long straight sections. He was using the twisting sections of the freeway to build a small lead. I saw his plan already. He wanted to get a lead and keep it through the slower sections of the park as we found our destinations. I had to admit the boy could eat like Jethro Bodine, so he'd probably beat me on the cupcake eating part; especially this close to breakfast. He'd be back in his car before I was and he'd have increased his lead. This all hinged on whether or not I could walk him down at full speed on the freeway on the way back.




Without a Paddle



As soon as we got onto the freeway proper, I ruined his plans. I floored it again and my car shot forward like a scalded cat. In the blink of an eye, we were both doing north of 100 and smiling from ear to ear. Over the course of a few seconds, I pulled ahead and then farther ahead. Even though Mark couldn't see me, I was grinning like a Cheshire cat as I pulled off of the freeway at our exit. I turned right and saw him turn left at the first intersection. I glanced at my phone as I drove through the gate and into the park. I saw the clock but not the picnic tables. They were about fifty yards past the parking lot. I didn't see anyone around so I drove through the parking lot and onto the grass. I drove right up to the picnic tables and finally spotted the box. I took a picture of the clock on the run and then the cupcake as soon as I opened the box. I ripped the cupcake in half and took another picture. Then I took another picture of the clock and headed for my car which was only a few steps away. Okay so I cheated. I didn't eat the fucking cupcake. I popped half of it into my mouth. I'd eat the rest during the drive.

I drove slowly out of the park and through the streets that surrounded it. I hit the freeway and didn't see or hear Mark's car anywhere. My goal for the trip back was to get the car over 150. I had to assume that Mark was ahead of me. If I knew him, he'd cheated with the cupcake too. My speed-O was at 145 and climbing, with the sound of my Pype bomb exhaust system crooning like music to my ears when I heard the alarm. It was my radar detector. I saw a group of cars ahead of me and slowed down till I was just behind them. The newer long range radar detectors let you know a lot farther in advance so I was sure I'd be okay. I tucked in behind a Volkswagen Jetta and a guy in a minivan. I smiled because I knew what would happen.

Like clockwork, the guy in the minivan looked over at me and started driving faster. It was as predictable as spring rain. Put a regular guy in a minivan and he just has to start driving like he's Mario Andretti. I think it's some kind of reaction to the concept that minivans were invented for soccer moms. So when you get a guy in a minivan, he just has to prove, probably to himself because no one else gives a fuck, that he still has balls. So to prove that he has balls he drives like an asshole. As we round the bend, he's doing about eighty and his minivan is shaking like the Starship Enterprise at warp nine. I could just hear his kids in the back screaming, "Daddy, she's breaking up." If that guy didn't slow down the rubber band that powered that thing was going to snap and he'd have to walk home carrying his rug rats.

But it was not to be, because as we rounded that bend, one of the three police cars hidden there flashed its lights and the cop inside yelled over his loudspeaker, "You in the minivan. Pull over."

Before I could laugh at the minivan, I noticed Mark Jr. sailing past me in the fast lane. He had his passenger side window down and his middle finger extended. "Ya snooze, ya lose, Dad," he smirked.

His laughter was cut short though as another police car pulled up behind him and turned on his siren. The rest of my drive home was leisurely. I pulled into the driveway got slowly out of my car and started laughing. I sprinted into the kitchen and grabbed a beer, not from the fridge but from the box stored in the pantry. I also grabbed an empty bottle. I ran outside into the yard and sat down on the deck in one of the lounge chairs.

Miri and Cora were there already trying to set things up for our barbecue.

"Mark, the least you could do is to start the grill," said Miri.

"Mark, why is Georgie angry?" asked Cora. "I was coming over just as you and little Mark left this morning. He acts like those little kids on the playground who don't get to play with the big kids."

"I'll tell you later Cora," I said. I leaned back in my chair and pretended that I was asleep as we heard the low growl of Mark's car pulling into the driveway.

I started snoring loudly and George came and sat down at one of the tables near my lounge chair. "What're you..." he began.

"Shh, here he comes," I whispered.

Mark came storming into the yard, with the biggest smile on his face clutching a rolled up ticket. "Where are you, cheater?" he yelled. He looked around the yard and didn't see me over the back of my chair.

Miri came back into the yard with a big tray with five steaks on it. "Mark, your father is asleep. You must've tired him out. Someone needs to start the grill, if we're going to eat on time."

"I'll do it," said George.

As Mark continued looking around for me, George spoke to him. "I'm about to do one of your chores young man. Shouldn't you say thanks or something?"

At that same moment, Mark saw me and came over and kicked my chair. "Stop pretending you faker. If you hadn't cheated, I'd have won," he said.

"Now Mark. Your father doesn't cheat," said Miri.

"Well, he could have warned me about the speed trap," snapped Mark. "He's paying for half of my ticket."

"What, whoa. How long was I asleep for? Is it still Saturday? Oh Mark, you're finally home," I said. "I saved you a beer."

"You're really funny Dad," he said, taking the bottle. He popped off the top and took a long drink. "Hey, this is warm."

"Sorry," I said. "It was ice cold when I brought it out here. I already drank mine while I waited for you. But that was before I fell asleep."

"You liar," he snapped. "When I took my last picture in the park, it was eleven thirty-five. The cops probably delayed me by ten minutes and it's not even noon yet. The beer wouldn't have had a chance to get warm. You owe me sixty dollars."

"Wait a minute," I said. "A ticket for going ten over is only a hundred dollars."

"I've only got eighty," he said. "And I need at least forty for my date tonight."

"Maybe you should pay the ticket and stay in tonight," I said.

"Dad, warm beer sucks," said Mark. "I want another one."

"No, Mark," I said. "You know the rule." He nodded. And out of nowhere George leaped into our conversation with both feet.

"I'm not sure I like the idea of him drinking period," said George. Miri looked at him as he spoke. Cora smiled and looked at him too.

Mark shot a pissed off look at George.

"After all, he's only twenty years old. He won't be legally old enough to drink for almost a year. He shouldn't be drinking period," said George.

"How is it any of your business, Mr. Wilson?" asked Mark Jr.

"George, a lot of kids start drinking by the time they're sixteen," I said. "Mark at twenty, lives on his own at college. If he wanted to, he could be walking around drunk half of the time that he's there. We let him have one beer a day, while he's home. It doesn't hurt anything and it gets him to the point where in ten months, when he can drink, it's not some terrible forbidden thing that he's going to go crazy doing."

My, I believed, rational explanation went unheard, though. I don't think that George heard a word of it.

"That makes sense," said Cora.

"Will somebody turn the God damned grill on?" yelled Miri. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what she was angry about.

"When I was in college...Well, I didn't get to go to college, but when I was about to go to college before I got married, we were drunk all of the time," said Cora. "The guys at the college used to come and bring us drinks all of the time. At least they brought drinks for all of the girls. I was a girl then. Well I'm still a girl now. At least I feel like a girl. But I guess technically I'm a woman. I wonder why those college guys didn't bring any drinks for the boys..."

There was a tension in the air. I could feel it. Something was about to happen and I knew that it was going to be bad. I had no idea though of just how bad it was going to be. I guess I envisioned my Saturday afternoon being ruined because either George or Mark Jr. would stomp off and leave the rest of us to eat without one of them. Maybe they'd both leave. But again as I tried to defuse the situation I had no idea what would happen.

"I'm tired of you showing me such disrespect," said George to Mark.

"I'm tired of you inserting yourself into everything we do," spat Mark. "Why can't you just sit there and eat and tell us stories about the time of the great depression when you were young. Ever since I was a little kid, you've been following me around like a God damned pedophile or something."

"I've been studying my ass off at school to make my parents proud of me and so I can have a great career. I have a lot of friends on campus but I missed my MOM and DAD. I came home this weekend to relax and spend time with my family. I wanted to eat my mom's cooking and do nutty things with my dad. Ever since we got up this morning, there you've been. I don't mind you visiting, but shit, can you at least be a good guest and try to stay out of the decision making process?"

I thought George was going to explode when Mark Jr. called him a pedophile. His face got so red I thought he'd either have a heart attack or stomp off.

"I think that I should have a hell of a lot more than a bit to say about things when it comes to you..." he yelled, but Mark cut him off.

"We wanted to do a race and there you were when we clearly didn't want you in it. You tried to stick your big, fat ass in one of our cars..." screamed Mark.

"In fact, I should have more to say about what you do than anyone else," screamed George.

"Then when I get home after my dad clearly cheated by not telling me his radar detector picked up bacon, when I'm angry and pissed off and a loser, you just have to flap your big assed mouth again because I wanted a beer. There are all kinds of kids all over the world that you could adopt and bother the shit out of, but you have to bother me when no one wants to hear your opinion," screamed Mark Jr. "When..." George cut Mark off again just as I was about to stop them and try to calm things down, George screamed out those four words that are immortal on Literotica.

"When we were married." Oops, okay, hang on. I got mixed up; wrong story. That is not what George yelled. Where were we? Damn it, I lost the big dramatic build up and everything.

"When I'm your father..." screamed George at the top of his lungs. It was like being at a party and the DJ accidentally stops the record in the middle. Every head in the yard turned. The birds stopped in mid-air and went silent. Cora turned towards George with a confused look on her face. My mouth dropped open and Miri dropped the tray she was carrying and looked at me.

"Now, I understand," yelled Mark Jr. "You're senile. Just get away from me. There's no need for you to ever speak to me again."

"I'm so sorry," whispered George. With everyone looking at him, his voice though barely more than a whisper; carried.

"It...I was just so angry," he said. It took a few seconds for what he was saying to register. That was more than enough for Miri to take off running into the house, bawling her eyes out.

"What?" said Cora. "You guys are going too fast. I don't understand any of this. Someone tell me what is going on."

"Apparently, your husband and my wife are closer than we thought," I said.

"You mean they're related?" she asked. "Like cousins?"

"Dad, is this a joke?" asked Mark Jr.

"No," said both George and me at the same time. George realized then that he'd said one word too many. He started backing up, but he was far too late. I followed him and punched him in the stomach so hard that I thought my fist would stick out of his back. He fell to the ground clutching his gut and started dry heaving and then vomited all over Miri's azaleas.

"Get up you bastard," I screamed. I was just about to hit him again when Miri grabbed my arm from behind.

"Mark, if you kill him, you'll go to jail and he's just not worth it," she said, with tears streaming down her face.

I pushed her away from me as if her touch burned me. "So says the woman who fucked him, right Miriam," I spat. "He was worth enough to ruin our marriage and our entire lifetime together, but not enough for me to go to jail for. How stupid is that? Four hours ago we were in bed and I was thinking that I would have died for you, so going to jail would have meant nothing. Now I can't stand the sight of you. Get away from me."

She looked as if I'd hit her. She slumped to the ground and started bawling even more.

I walked calmly out of the yard and into the house. I grabbed my keys off of the counter and headed for my car. My mind was whirring at about a thousand thoughts a second as I slammed the door behind me. The last thing I heard before I got into my car and drove away was Cora talking.

"Does this mean we aren't having steaks?" she asked. "I kind of had my mouth all ready for a steak."

  *  *  *  *  *  *

  Miriam

I don't know how I kept breathing. Even as I cried the way a newborn baby cries, my lungs continued to suck in air. If I were a smarter woman I'd have realized that the mere fact that I COULD cry, meant that I was in fact breathing. I also have no idea why the world continued to turn or the sun continued to shine, but they did. Life went on all around me. Even as I heard the sound of Mark's car door slamming shut from the front of the house, I could feel the stares of the three people left in the yard with me.

I concentrated on what the sound of that door closing meant for me. It meant that the man I loved was getting ready to drive away from me in anger for the first time in our twenty five years together. I wanted to go after him, but I just didn't have the strength for that. I was surprised that I could even sit up there on the ground.

Everything around me, everything in this yard had been built, arranged, planted, designed or maintained with the blood and sweat of my family. The deck was twelve years old and had been re-stained or re-sanded at least six times. The entire deck had been built over the course of four weekends by Mark and Mark Jr. twelve years ago. Almost from the day I brought him home from the hospital, they'd been inseparable.

They talked alike. They walked alike. They looked alike. They liked the same foods. They liked the same cars. They were as close as brothers. My family was ruined and all for the jealousy and ego of one stupid man. No, I was the stupid one. This should never have happened. But in the back of my mind, I'd always known that someday it might. I guess I'd always hoped that it wouldn't. But to say that I'd never had any idea that it could happen, would be dishonest.

Even as my mind tried to shut down or shut out everything except for my pain, my senses continued to retrieve data from all around me. Cora's stupid questions about a steak barely registered but they were there. I suppose I should be grateful that she wasn't asking more questions. Sooner or later she was going to realize what had happened and then she'd be angry. Cora we could probably handle. She was as sweet as she was stupid. The men in the neighborhood used to trick her all the time. They'd tell her that George said it was okay for them to feel her boobs and she'd let them. She'd even stick them out so it was easier for them. That stopped the day that George caught a guy doing it and tried to beat him to death. Cora would eventually realize what was going on and would probably be badly hurt. But she loved George so they'd survive this.

George sitting next to me, wheezing and retching and trying to stand up was a lot more easily forgotten.

The thing I couldn't get over or get past though, was the site of my son glaring at me. "It's not true is it, Mom?" he asked, over and over. "That asshole isn't really my father is he? You didn't..."

After asking me the same questions perhaps five or six times, he looked into my eyes and got his answer. My son is a good looking boy. Fortunately, most of my genes must have been dominant over George's because there are no traces of George on his face. But as handsome as he is, Mark screwed his face into a mask of hatred and rage as he looked at me. It was the first time I'd ever considered that one of my men might hit me.

"You WHORE," he hissed. He was so angry that he was foaming at the mouth. A few flecks of spittle actually landed in my face. I don't remember my son ever being that angry.

"Don't talk to your mother that way," croaked George, who apparently had no idea when to shut the fuck up.

Mark's head swiveled in place as if he was a robot. His eyes turned towards George and I swear his eyes glowed. "If you ever try to speak to me again, I'll kill you," he said. "You mean nothing to me. For most of my life, I've thought of you as my dad's weird friend, or as some nosy neighbor, but now you mean literally nothing to me. You actually mean less than nothing if that's even possible."

"But we..." cried George.

"There is no fucking WE," screamed Mark, who was becoming incensed. "If you say another fucking word it will be your last. Get out of our yard and don't ever come back. You're not welcome here anymore. I can't take this shit. You two deserve each other." He too grabbed his keys and in only a few minutes there was the sound of another door slamming and another overpriced, overly loud, exhaust system roaring away from the house. It was funny, they reacted to their pain the same way too.

"Do I have to leave too?" asked Cora.

"Cora, Honey do you even know what's going on?" I asked.

"You and George had a baby together a long time ago," she said. "Mark Jr. is the baby and everyone is upset because Mark isn't his father and George is. Jeezus guys that was a long time ago. How old is Mark Jr., he's pretty old?"

"He's twenty Cora," I said. "You and George have been married for thirty years."

"That's a long time," she said.

"Come on Cora," I said. "Do the math. What does that mean?"

"I hate math," she said. "I'm not any good at it. I can never figure out what X is. Can't you just tell me the answer like they did in school?"

"Cora, it means that George and I did a very bad thing," I said. "George and I had sex while he was married to you and I was married to Mark."

"Oh!" she said. "That's why everyone is so angry. And that's why the Marks hate George. I think that I'm angry too," she said.

"You should be Cora," I said. I started crying again and she actually came over and rubbed the back of my neck.

"I never wanted any of this," said George. "None of this was what I wanted. I just wanted to be included. I'm sorry Miri."

George got up and walked tentatively towards Cora, who was looking at him and at me angrily by now. "Come on Cora," he said. "Let's go home and talk." She looked at him very angrily but she went with him.

I was finally alone. I went into the house and closed and locked all of the doors. I pulled the drapes shut so no one could see inside the house, but also so no sunlight could get in. I felt ashamed and ugly. I wanted to lock myself away forever. George's four thoughtless words had ruined my life.

I picked up the phone and tried to call Mark. I found out that my cell phone had already been blocked. I tried using our land line and it went straight to voice mail. I sobbed and called my son. He'd already blocked me too.

I went into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. I hadn't had a chance to change the sheets on the bed, so they still smelled like Mark and I had just made love on them. Perhaps a few of our fluids had started to decay so the smell was more rancid than funky, but it was still our smell and it comforted me. It told me that the dream I'd been living in for the past twenty-five years had actually happened.

I thought back about all of the things that I love about my husband and it made me cry. I'm not the kind of woman who wants her man to change. That's a mistake that a lot of women make. They think that with the right combination of the 3 P's they can make a man into their perfect guy. Those 3 P's are, of course, Persuasion, Patience and Pussy.




Without a Paddle



I've never subscribed to that theory. I've never wanted to change Mark. I've always loved him exactly the way he is. Mark is not perfect. He leaves the toilet seat up almost every God damned day. And if he doesn't do it, then Mark Jr. does. If I had to count the number of times I've gone into the bathroom in the middle of the night and fallen into the toilet or gotten my ass wet because one of them left the toilet seat up, I'd have run out of numbers. Sometimes I think they do it for fun.

And they both have this terrible habit of leaving all of those little hairs in the sink after they shave. But at least they shave. Neither one of them leaves a scruffy, shitty two or three day beard growth on their faces. If I had to choose between kissing and rubbing my face against a sandpaper like cheek or the hairs in the sink, I'd pick the hairs in the sink every time. And if you think kissing that scraggly, razor-like hair is bad, having it between your legs is the worst.

Then there's the fact that they can't seem to find the clothes hamper with a map. They run around playing GPS games with their phones and their cars but they can't find the God damned clothes hamper and it's been in the same place since before Mark Jr. was born.

And then there's that thing they do whenever I invite people over for a grown up type dinner party. As soon as we sit down, Jr. and Mark look at each other. They wait for a lull in the conversation or for things to become what they'd consider boring and then they're gone. It's usually something stupid. Mark Jr. eats like a vacuum cleaner so he'd suck down his dinner in two point four seconds and then excuse himself. He'd wait for about four minutes and ask his dad for some help with his homework. Mark would excuse himself too and then they would never show up again. Sometimes they'd even leave me there with the guests.

And two years ago, they started going to Mustang shows together. They'd hang out with all the other Mustang nuts in the area and I just felt like a fifth wheel. To their credit, they always asked me to come along, but it just wasn't something I wanted to do. I wish now that I had because I made another mistake then.

I prayed to God that afternoon. I prayed for some kind of forgiveness that would get me out of the mess I'd made. I fell asleep still begging and pleading and promising to build a church, but I didn't receive a message from any burning bush telling me that I'd been forgiven. None of our bushes even smoked let alone caught fire.

I woke up to the sound of someone moving through the house. The door to our bedroom opened and Mark walked in. He walked right past the bed as if I wasn't there and turned on the light in the closet. He grabbed a fresh set of pajama bottoms to sleep in and clothes for him to wear that night. At least he wasn't leaving me. That gave me some degree of hope.

"Mark, why can't you sleep in here with me?" I asked. "We're still married, you know?"

He didn't even bother to answer. "Mark, your son, has gone back to school," he said. "He's pretty upset."

"You mean Mark Jr. OUR son, don't you?" I said angrily. He just looked at me. "Mark, have you eaten? I could make us something."

"Miriam, please just leave me alone," he said. "I don't know if you understand this, but you've pretty much destroyed two lives here. Mark and I will never ever be the same. The rock that our worlds were built on WAS our family and now we really don't know where we stand. He and I are going to stay in touch like always. I insisted on that. But I can't guarantee anything else. I did speak to John today about the possibility of me going back to work and..."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked. "We're going to Barbados in two weeks. How long are you going to be working?"

He just shook his head and walked away. I heard the shower in the guest room go on and I decided that as pissed at me as he was, he was still my husband and we should be sleeping together. I got up and walked silently down the hall and turned the knob of the guest bedroom. It was locked. In all the time that we'd been married, we'd never slept apart except for the few times that he'd had to travel for business and couldn't take me with him. That was another dagger plunged into my heart. But I deserved them, because I'd caused all of this myself.

*  *  *  *  *  *

  Mark Jr.

Who am I? That was the question that was first in my mind. I'm twenty years old. I've been considered an adult in most of the states in the union for over two years, but right now I truly don't know the answer to a question that most kindergarten students know. For most of my life, I've proudly bore the name of the man who raised me and believed that I'm his son. As badly as I feel for myself, I feel worse for my dad. A couple of hours after we both stormed out of our house, we ended up meeting at our favorite restaurant. We met at the Texas Roadhouse on twelve mile and John R in Madison Heights.

At first we were a bit angry and confused. But then old ties began to re-assert themselves. I think that both of us were nervous and then he just asked me a question. "What should we do?" he asked. I just stared at him. I was confused. Then I realized that this was my dad. And that's what he always asked me. Ever since I was five or six years old, he'd treated me more like his partner or his brother than some kid who followed him around.

"What do you want to do?" I asked him.

"Well, there are a lot of things that we have to think about," he said. "First and most importantly, there's us."

I gulped loudly and tried to take a sip of water to cover it up.

"Mark, I'm sorry," he began. I felt a lump in my throat. Nothing good has ever followed, "I'm sorry."

I imagined all kinds of things. "I'm sorry Mark, but maybe we should change your name," I thought he might say. Or, "I'm going to have to re-evaluate our relationship."

But, of course, he was my dad. "I'm sorry, but none of this shit makes a damned bit of difference to me," he spat. "When I woke up this morning you were MY son, not George Wilson's and that's the way I still see it. It was me who cut the cord when you were born. It was me you peed on while I tried to change your diapers. "

"Who was it that sat at the foot of your bed when you were afraid of monsters under it?" he asked.

"You Dad," I said.

"Who taught you to swing a baseball bat or catch a ball?" he asked.

"You Dad," I said louder.

"Who taught you to catch a God damned football and never missed one of your games?" he asked.

"You Dad," I said louder still.

"Taught you to drive?" he asked.

"You," I said.

"Taught you to change a tire?" he asked.

"The same," I replied.

"So, as far as I'm concerned, nothing has changed between us," he said. "It's everyone else who's going to have to answer some serious questions."

"Dad, I'm sorry," I said. "But I just can't go back there. If I do I might end up murdering Mr. Wilson. And I don't feel too much better about Mom. I feel like my entire life has just been a lie. She knew it all along and just lied to us every day of my God damned life. Did you notice how she kept trying to change the subject and calm Mr. Wilson down when we started to argue? She kept trying to get him to light the grill and pull him away from me. Both of them have known about this from the beginning. I just feel like they were laughing at us all along. I hate both of them. I don't even have any idea of how this feels for you. It's probably at least ten times worse. I just feel like the rug has been pulled out from under me. I just feel lost. Everywhere I turn, everywhere I look, and things are just different. Home doesn't feel like home anymore. I'm going to need some time to start trying to process this."

He just smiled and nodded. "Isn't that why I pay all of that money for room and board," he smirked, echoing Mom's words from before.

  *  *  *  *  *  *

  George Wilson

I didn't know how to feel. On one hand, I was miserable. But another part of me was relieved. I was finally about to get what I had coming to me. My stomach still hurt badly. I couldn't believe that the man who'd been my best friend for more than twenty years had done this to me with only one punch. He'd been about to hit me again when Miri stopped him. That only proved that she had feelings for me whether or not she was ready to admit to them.

Mark was understandably angry. He was probably feeling betrayed. He was probably also feeling a deep sense of loss. It was a shame really. It never really needed to go this far. Mark was tough and a good looking guy. I'm sure that he'd get over it in time. Maybe we could even be friends again someday. Who knows? Stranger things have happened. After all, we do share a son and we do love the same woman.

I heard the sound of Cora upstairs. She was talking to herself and moving things around. She always cleaned when she was upset. I hoped that she could calm down soon because I would probably need her help to get past this. After all of the anger and raw emotion had been spent and cooler heads prevailed, we would all talk.

For most of my life, I'd been a winner. In sports, I won. In school, I won. In business, I won big. For the past thirty years, I'd lived in this house. For the past twenty-five years I'd been friends with Mark and Miri. Twenty years ago two things had happened. The first was that on a very special occasion Miriam and I got together. It was magical and it was flat out the best sex I've ever had.

We both knew that things had changed forever between us. And the result of that brief linkage was the birth of my son. Miri had to be careful after that. She made sure not to speak to me directly or even look at me because we didn't want our spouses to know that there was something going on between us.

I'd begun to make a hell of a lot more money then, when I became the COO. That was the second thing that had happened. I guess I could have moved away to a bigger house and a nicer neighborhood. But after that first time with Miriam, there was no way I could have moved away from her. 

She also didn't tell me that Mark was mine. Not that I'd have minded her naming him after my best friend. It just would have been nice to know that he was my son from the beginning. I later found out that she didn't even know about it herself until he was five and probably wouldn't have ever told me. Actually, it was very accidental, the way I found out. I'd come home for lunch one day because Cora had done something stupid as usual. I don't even remember what it was now. But I'm glad it happened.

I remember hearing the sound of screaming from the yard next door and since we were all the best of friends, I ran outside to see what was wrong. I expected that Miriam had probably cut down the wrong plant or had possibly suffered a minor injury. Neither of those ideas was even close.

I hopped the fence because in those days we didn't yet have the gate that now allows us access between the yards. I found Miriam kneeling on the grass in her yard crying her eyes out.

"No!" She kept sobbing over and over again. "This isn't possible. It isn't fair."

I went over to her and she stared at me. "Get out of my yard," she screamed. "Stay away from me."

I could tell that she, like me was having trouble containing the emotions we felt for each other. She had a few sheets of paper clutched tightly on her hands and I thought that it was something simple or financial that I could help her with and use to leverage another session between us. It had been more than five years since we'd had sex but not a day went by that I didn't think about it.

"Miriam, whatever the problem is I'll fix it," I said. "Do you need money?" I gently took the sheets from her and looked at them. They weren't financial papers or any kind of bill. It was some kind of lab report.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Mark starts school next month," she said tearfully. "They wanted a DNA sample as part of his medical records."

"Okay, how much does it cost?" I asked.

"We've already had the test done asshole," she said. "That's what this report is."

"Then what's the problem?" I asked.

"The problem..." she said. "...Not that it's any of your business; is that this report is wrong. They had to be mistaken. It says that Mark is not our son's father."

"Those tests are supposed to be very accurate," I said. "Miriam, have you had sex with anyone other than Mark?"

"Only once you bastard," she cried and then she ran into the house.

For the rest of that day I walked around alternating between elation and shame with a bit of confusion thrown in. I'd been confused for a while. Like I said before, I'm a winner. I've always had it all. I have the best job. I make more money than I need. I have a pretty wife with big tits who's about half my age. And I have the best friend in the world. Yet for the past five years, I've been jealous of Mark.

Cora is younger and prettier than Miriam. She has much bigger tits and longer legs. On paper, most people would say that I'd won that battle hands down. The problem is that real life isn't just about battle and measurements. There are all kinds of intangible factors to consider. Cora is as vapid as she is beautiful. I have no doubt by that time that Cora loved me, but she couldn't help what she was.

I was often jealous of Mark because of the interplay and the conversations that he and Miriam shared. They loved each other in a way that was clearly far beyond what Cora and I had. My tryst with Miriam had shown me that I was a loser in another way as well. I've been with a lot of women during my life, but I have never felt anything like what I felt when my dick sank into Miriam.

Mark and I were the closest of friends and he'd told me some things over the years. I'd written them off as just him talking trash. But when I felt the heat of Miriam's vagina, it drove me crazy. I realized then that much of what he'd told me might be true. He'd also claimed that Miriam was very wild during sex and that she had a way of fluttering her inner muscles and caressing your member that simply couldn't be believed. Or of using those same muscles to squeeze your dick as if she was trying to milk every last drop of sperm into her thirsty vagina.

He went on to talk about the animalistic grunts and yelps she made during sex. I guess I'd wanted to experience all of that just to see if Mark was being truthful. I'd only intended for it to be a one-time thing and as I've said, I had never once been alone with her since that first time. But I wanted her more than anything else in the world.

Sex with Cora was about as exciting as a conversation with her. When I thought about her lying there in bed with me, I almost fell asleep. Her long, thin legs flopped uselessly as we coupled while her huge, just beginning to sag, breasts rolled off to the side. I don't know why but there was simply a different feeling being inside of Cora's vagina. The heat was missing and most of the sensation. Don't get me wrong, Cora was probably at least as tight as Miriam was, but it's just different. Actually, I'd have to say that after Miriam gave birth, Cora is definitely tighter, but still not as good.

I think the thing that irks me the most is that I now know that Miriam can do all of those things that Mark told me about. She just doesn't do them with me. As I said, ever since before that first time with Miriam, I'd been obsessed with her and jealous of Mark. I know that it makes absolutely no sense for a man with a beautiful young wife to be jealous of a man whose wife is plainer, or at least more average, but I was. Every time we got together, I simply couldn't stop staring at her. She refused to meet my eyes and never spoke to me, but I wanted her so badly it hurt.

Once I found out that she was pregnant, I became even more jealous. I pounded the shit out of Cora every night trying to even up the situation. I figured our kids would be the best of friends too and if they were of different genders, maybe they're even marry and unite the families. But nothing happened.

I got Viagra and fucked Cora twice a day for months. And nothing happened. We both got check -ups, we tried different positions. And nothing happened. We saw specialists and got Cora put on fertility drugs. Yet still nothing happened. It simply wasn't in the cards.

But that day, after seeing Miriam run into the house crying, I knew that once again, I was a winner. There was nothing wrong with me. It was simply another defect in Cora. I wish I'd known earlier so I could have watched the changes in Miriam's body as our son grew, but at the time I was so obsessed with trying to match the miracle that I missed it.

I did feel bad for my best friend when the pregnancy turned difficult and Miriam had to be hospitalized. In the end, the birth was so difficult, in fact that both mother and child barely survived. The doctors told Mark and Miriam that having another child might kill her. Though they both wanted more children, Mark didn't hesitate. He volunteered to get a vasectomy. The doctor told him that as nice as that was, it would be smarter for Miriam to have her tubes tied because even after a vasectomy, occasionally live and viable sperm cells are still contained in the ejaculate so he might accidentally get her pregnant and kill her.

I wonder if he'd have been as willing to go under the knife if he'd learned earlier that our son wasn't his. Whenever we talked about having kids, Mark always said that they didn't need to have any other children because they gotten the first one right so there were no needs for any repeats.

Everyone knew by the sadness he tried to hide then that he didn't mean any of that. I once heard Miriam tell Cora that they'd always planned for a house full of kids, but if Mark had to make the choice between having more children and not having Miriam, he'd pick Miriam every time. I'd heard Mark say that Miriam was his soul more times than once. He actually said that out loud and around people and when he said it you could tell that he meant it.

"Why don't you ever say things like that about me?" Cora asked once. I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Some of us just show it by our actions," I said. But in my mind I thought, "Because, I just don't feel that way about you."

After the big discovery, I gave Miriam a few days to calm down. After that, I called her so we could talk.

"Miriam, what are we going to do?" I asked her.

"What are we going to do about what?" she asked.

"Our son," I said.

"WE don't have a son," she hissed. "You have nothing to do with him. You have nothing to do with me; NOTHING."

  I have to admit that it hurt hearing her words. I'd always thought of us as an extended family with Mark and I as close as brothers and the wives as sisters. I had to admit that a lot of the time that Mark and I used to spend together had been taken up by him spending time with Mark Jr. but I wasn't jealous until then. In fact, during the boy's life I'd been allowed to attend quite a few of his events too. Miriam did everything she could to keep us apart though. If I asked to go to one of his football games, Miriam would always give me the wrong day or the wrong place or the wrong time.

I was also never invited to any of his birthday gatherings and Miriam never allowed me to even give the child a single birthday or Christmas present. The strangest thing about it is that Cora could do anything she wanted with Mark Jr. any time she wanted. Cora was his Godmother and Mark's boss was his Godfather which pissed me off royally.

Mark Jr. called my wife, "Aunt Cora," but I was Mr. Wilson. It was almost as if I was that angry old man from the Dennis the menace TV show.

   Miriam decided that we shouldn't have that discussion over the phone. I went to their house the next day; supposedly to help Miriam move some boxes while Mark was at work.




Without a Paddle



"What happened, happened," she said. "There's no way to take it back or I already would have. You need to just stay away from my son and stay away from me. It was a mistake. You took advantage of me five years ago and got me to do something stupid that I've regretted ever since." She said those things to me with both venom and malice. She wanted her words to hurt me. But I knew the real reason. She didn't want our feelings to ruin our marriages.

"Miriam, I won't tell anyone about what happened or about our son," I said. "But in exchange for that you have to do something for me."

"What," she spat acidly. "Isn't what you've already done to my life bad enough? What do you want?"

"You," I said. "I want more of what we did that day. If we don't, then I'll tell Mark everything. I've been through a divorce once and I'm tired of Cora, so going through it again won't hurt me, but you'd lose everything you hold dear."

She cried a lot but she agreed. She had no choice. We only get together twice a year which bothers me but she claims not to want to do it at all. Usually it's on Mark Jr.'s birthday which serves to remind her of why we're doing it and on my birthday as my special treat. This has been going on for almost fifteen years and we've never been caught. There have been a few times when we had to re-schedule or just missed it, but it has never ended. In fact, it's one of the things I look forward to the most. And now because of my inability to control my anger, the cat is out of the bag.

I have no idea how all of the chips will settle. In my mind, I kind of hope that things will calm down and go back the same. Mark will probably be angry for quite a while, but at least now he'll know. Well, he'll know most of it. I'm hoping that Miriam has enough brains not to tell him that it happened more than once. But if she doesn't let him know that we're still involved, I still have some leverage to use against her.

As far as things go with my son, that boy has some growing up to do. Now that he knows that I'm his father, things are going to have to change. I'm willing to be magnanimous. I have no intention of freezing Mark out. He'll be welcome to participate in everything that my son and I do. That's a lot better than they ever treated me.

What I'd really love to have happen would be for Mark to realize that as a friend, he should probably be willing to bite the bullet in exchange for all of the years that I've given him with my son. For the past fifteen years, I've had to stand on the sidelines and watch as my child was subtly transposed into a clone of Mark. I got absolutely no say in the important decisions of his life. I've had to watch from the sidelines as he went through his greatest triumphs and failures. And while it's true that Mark didn't know that Mark Jr. was my son, I suffered anyway.

So if he was a real friend, he'd just divorce Miriam and disappear. That way my family and I could work things out and he could start over someplace else. In a perfect world, he'd even take Cora with him but that would be asking too much. I smiled just thinking about it and as the smile was at its broadest, I see Cora coming down the stairs. She's carrying two suitcases.

"Goodbye, George," she says. Her eyes are filled with tears and she just walks away.

"Cora, wait," I said. But she doesn't stop. She walks out of the house and opens the trunk of her car. She puts her suitcases into it and closes it. I grab her arm and she pulls away from me.

"I know that I'm not very smart," she said. "But I'm a nice person and I loved you with all of my heart. I spoke to Miriam, George and I know what you did to her. You're some kind of a monster. And I've known about the other women you cheated on me with. But I always thought that in the end, my love for you would someday make you see that I'm the right woman for you and we'd end up happy. I never wanted or asked for perfection. I just wanted someone to love and to be loved by that person in return. And since it looks like that isn't going to happen, I'll have to settle for taking all of your money."

  "Your lawyer, Stanton Rice, will be representing me in our divorce. He's very sure that he can get me a lot more money than the pre-nup we signed thirty years ago, especially since you've admitted in front of witnesses to cheating on me and fathering a child."

I was shocked. Her using my own lawyer was actually smart. The bastard knew how much money I had and where it all was. I felt a lump in my throat. The phone was ringing inside of the house and I ran to get it.

"George, can you come over here? We need to talk," said Miriam.

"Sure Miri, I'll be right there," I said.

"Don't you ever call me anything but my fucking name," she hissed. "My name is Miriam. Only my husband calls me Miri. You can call me Mrs. Dawson."

I walked out the back door and over to the gate in the fence. The gate wouldn't open. Then I noticed that there was a big padlock on the other side of it. I went back through the house and went next door. The door was opened by a crying Miriam. I reached out to hug her and she slapped my face. Her fingernails raked my cheek and drew blood. She looked worse than I've ever seen her. Her hair was thrown back into a pony-tail and she had bags under her eyes. It was the eyes that bothered me the most. Her eyes alternated between dull and lifeless to an almost feral state.

"Mark will be here in a few minutes," she said. "You stay on the fucking porch until he gets here."

"Mir...Mrs. Dawson, what about our son? Is he coming too?" I asked.

"You should probably hope not," she snapped. "The last thing he said about you was that the he'd had to get away from you yesterday to avoid murdering you. I spoke to my husband, Mark, this morning for a few minutes. He won't even talk to me because of you. He wanted me to know that Mark Jr. is fine. He went back up to his school early because he couldn't take what was going on down here. My own son won't even speak to me because of you. He HATES you, George. Because of your mouth, we've both lost him. You went from being his dad's weird friend to being the man he hates most in life. Are you happy now?"

I was stunned. This wasn't the way things were supposed to work.

  "I've always hated you George," she said. "Every time that we were together, I only did it to spare my husband the pain that you put him through yesterday. And part of it was pure selfishness on my part. I'm damaged George. I kept thinking that deep down inside no matter how much he loved me, Mark would have chosen to be with a woman who could give him more children. So I thought that if he found out about us, he'd have divorced me and found one. I was so stupid. Do you know who made me see that? Cora did. She told me about how she wished that you'd loved her even half as much as Mark loved me. And I let him down. I won't do that ever again, George. And whether he takes me back or not, I'm going to see to it that you suffer. Now sit your ass on that porch and don't move."

"But Miri, I'm..." her hand moved so fast I didn't see it. And this time it drew more blood. I was sitting there on that porch with deep welts on my face when Mark's Mustang pulled up. I knew that he and Miriam were still living together which was more than I could say about Cora and me. I wondered then, if we would work out our differences. From what I'd seen, Cora had really loved me and was hurt by what I'd done. I just felt neutral about her. I guess that from the first time that Miri and I'd gotten together, Cora had only been in my life to fill a place. Realistically, she was better off without me. Hopefully, we could come up with a settlement that I didn't mind paying her, but I just couldn't see fighting for her the way Miri was probably going to fight for Mark.

Miri's words came back to me. She hated me. My son hated me. None of that was what I wanted. As Mark walked towards the porch, the coldness in his eyes was far worse than the anger I'd seen on Miriam's face. It was that coldness and lack of emotion more than any of the other's reactions that made me realize what I'd fucked up. Until yesterday, I was a valued member of a family group. There were five of us. True, I wasn't with Miri but in the beginning we were friends and until Mark started talking about how good she was in bed, I'd never looked at her twice.

And that was twenty fucking years ago. I kept after her, always trying to feel what Mark had described and it took this to make me see that she would only do that for someone she loved and she HATES me.

  Instead of being his father's best friend and the person who would be the man in his life if Mark ever died, I jealously tried to impose myself in Mark Jr.'s life. All it did was to make him view me as some weird old guy who was too interested in him. I was never his father. I was only a sperm donor. Me being the one to impregnate Miriam was an accident. If Mark had been home, or he'd gotten back from his business trip early, or if Miri hadn't been missing him so much that a little wine and a lot of persuasion hadn't convinced her...Okay maybe it was a lot of wine and a little persuasion, but what it was is an accident. There had been no love or joy ever in our coupling. And what I saw as her reacting to how deeply I'd penetrated her was actually her vomiting in disgust over what we'd done.

I'd lost it all. I was probably going to end up some lonely old man that no one cares about. I'd be all alone in a crappy apartment with fifteen cats and a cabinet full of tuna.

As Mark started walking up the stairs to the porch, eying me warily, I saw the end of our fishing trips together. They would be no more. Most of the time, we didn't even take Mark Jr. with us on those trips. It was just the two of us. I saw the end of our weekly treks to the golf course. We were a feared pair either in open play or in our golf league. Mark would probably find another partner easily. I saw the end of our lazy weekend barbecues and dinners together in the winter. I remember Miriam trying out new dishes on us and smiling so hard she glowed when they were good.

  I remember even more the way she stuck out her lip and good naturedly survived our ribbing when they were bad. But we always did things together. I was greedy and now I'd have to suffer for it.

The funny thing about it is that I'd always had all of the things that were important. From the beginning Mark had been too eager to share his son with me. I remember him handing Mark Jr. to me and telling me to hold him from the very beginning. When the boy walked for the first time, Mark held him and helped him balance. "Go to George," he'd said excitedly. His first words after, "Dada," and "Ma," had been "Jirghgg," which was the baby trying to say George. 

  Things didn't get weird between us until after Miri started trying to separate us. And she only tried to do that to protect her family after I started trying to make demands. I got greedy in trying to demand something that they'd freely given me anyway. I didn't realize that I was crying until Mark stepped up on the porch near me.

"Whatever you're crying about now, it is probably going to be worse," he said.

"Mark...I..." I began.

"Save it," he said. "I didn't ask you to come here so the two of us could talk. We all need to talk about the future together."

As we walked into the house, I noticed the coldness there too. Their house, even more than my own, had always seemed like home to me. Yesterday, love and laughter seemed to inhabit the place. They bounced off of the walls, like echoes of all of the joy the people who lived there had shared. But just one day later, those echoes and memories seemed more like ghosts. Every memory had been tainted and twisted until it no longer seemed the same. Was the sound of a child screaming the result of his joy or his torture? None of it meant anything anymore.

As Miri's eyes hit Mark and he looked away, I saw another thing I'd destroyed in my greed. She reflexively reached for him the way she had hundreds of thousands of times and then recoiled as she realized that he'd no longer allow any contact between them. If true love is as powerful a thing as they say, then I must be a truly great evil, because I had single handedly destroyed the truest love I'd ever seen in my life. For tearing those two apart alone, I should have been executed.

"Where's Cora?" asked Mark. "What we're going to talk about affects all of us."

"She's gone," I said. "She's going to file for divorce. So I guess whatever we have to say only affects us and little Mark."

"Mark Jr. doesn't want to have anything to do with this," Mark said. "He's still trying to get a handle on his new reality. But he's a tough kid. He'll bounce back pretty quickly. It's just that everything he's known for his entire life was a lie. That's pretty tough to come back from. The emotional scarring alone could ruin a lot of lives, but Mark Jr. is tough."

"George, he wants nothing to do with you. As you pointed out, he's only twenty years old, but he's still over eighteen which means that although he can't drink, he's an adult. And he doesn't ever want to see you again. He doesn't want anything from you or to do with you. Unfortunately, that isn't going to happen."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "You're going to make him see me?"

"No, but as his..." he stopped. "You may be his biological father, but I'm his dad. So I get to make certain decisions in his life. He has no say in that. So you're going to possibly have a big impact on his life."

"What do you mean possibly?" I asked. Mark reached into the folder he'd been carrying. He looked through a lot of smaller folders and threw a stack of papers on the table in front of me.

"I intended to give you the other ones first," he said. "But shit, nothing ever goes the way we plan it. Yesterday I woke up and thought I was the luckiest man in the world. The woman I loved more than anyone in my life ever, I mean I loved her more than I loved my parents and they gave me life. Anyway, she woke me up in my favorite way, but by the middle of the day my whole life was shit. How did I plan to spend my day yesterday?"

"I was greedy," he said. "I wanted to spend some time with my beautiful wife. Then, I wanted to do something stupid with my son. Then I thought we'd all get together for a nice lunch out on the deck. Following that, I'd sneak away with my best bud for a round of golf because if we win the club tournament this year it would make our third victory so they'd engrave our names on the championship cup."

Both Miriam and I were starting to choke up as Mark spoke. "By the end of the day, my son was no longer biologically mine, my wife no longer loved me and I have no best friend. So as bad as your day is going George, rub some dirt on it and let's get this out in the open," he said.

I looked at the papers and he was suing me for a lot of money. "What the fuck is this about?" I screamed.

"That part is my lawyer's idea," he said. "According to him, it's a very easy suit. I'm suing you for the cost of raising your child from birth to adulthood. Plus the cost of his education and clothing and vacations and whatever else went into it. You stepped up to the plate yesterday and proclaimed yourself his father, so now it's time to pay for it."

"But this is a lot of..." before I could finish, he slid another set of papers to me.

"This one's the alienation of affection suit," he said. "I don't really understand it, but it means that you stuck your nose in and fucked up my marriage. It means that if you hadn't gotten involved, Miriam and I would still be ecstatically in love."

"But she still loves you," I said. "Mark, this is over a million dollars..."

"I wanted more," he hissed. "Miriam was my heart. You ruined that so you have to pay for it George."

"Mark. I've never loved anyone except you," said Miriam. "This asshole could never come between us. I only did what I did because I didn't want you hurt."

"Miriam, we've been together for a very long time," he said. "You will get your chance to speak. I'm not going to just run off without listening to you. I owe you that much at least. But you've been lying to me for over twenty years and you haven't been faithful to me either. Our whole marriage has been a sham for a long time. But I owe you the chance to explain, so you'll have it."

"George, these papers are only copies," he said. "The actual documents will be served tomorrow. I'm giving you advance notice because for more years than I want to think about, you were my best friend and you really meant a lot to me. It was almost like having the brother I always wanted."

"Since what I have to say to Miriam only concerns us, you can go now George," he said. "All of the arguing and details can take place between our lawyers, so I doubt that we'll ever speak again. I'll probably be moving soon anyway." I stood up and took the folders off of the table. I was stunned. He'd dismissed me as if I was a fired employee or a business deal that had gone bad. I didn't get the chance to say anything or even apologize.

*    *   *   *   *   *

Miriam

As George, shocked looks and all, left the house clutching the folders that Mark had given him, I drew in a nervous breath. I tried to calm myself down. I told myself that above and beyond everything else, Mark loved me. So everything would be alright. But as I looked at him, there was something different. There was a different look in his eyes than there had been just a few hours earlier when he'd left.

"Where did you go today, Honey?" I asked.

"My name is Mark," he said calmly. It reminded me of what I'd told George only a little while ago. But this was different. Where I was trying to regain my control over a situation where I'd allowed an evil person to subjugate me, Mark had no reason to treat me like that.

"Honey, can we just relax and talk like we always do?" I asked smiling. Mark could never resist my smile.

"I've already told you, my name is Mark," he said, more pointedly. "And you can talk any way you'd like to. I am relaxed. So talk. You have the floor." He pulled out his iPhone and turned on his voice recording app.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"It will probably be easier to remember what you've said if we have a recording of it. That way there'll be fewer arguments," he said.

"But H...Mark, we always argue," I smiled, "And then we make up. If we're shopping we argue over what size Ketchup to buy. That's just us."

"But this time it's serious," he said calmly. "And I'm pretty sure we won't be making up. I'm also very sure that unless you can pull a rabbit out of your hat, there's no longer an us...Miriam was there ever really an us?"

"What do you mean, Mark?" I smiled because I was confused. I couldn't understand what he meant. "There's always been an us, Dummy and there always will be," I said.

"No Miriam," he said. "You're talking about what you made me think for all of these years, but the wool is no longer pulled over my eyes. I'm talking about reality now. You know the world of facts, not the world of dreams or hopes. Let's stick to the facts, okay?"

Again I was confused. "Mark, the fact is that I love you and you love me. We're married and we're going to get past this. This is only a speed bump. We hate speed bumps, they slow us down but we get over them and we forget about them."

"Miriam, can we please stick to the facts?" he said again.

"But those are facts," I said. I was getting more confused as we spoke. "Mark, I love you and..."

"Let's start there," he said, cutting me off. "Prove that."

"Huh?" I asked. "I don't understand. How do I..."

"Miriam, let's look at this," he said calmly. "You claim you love me, yet you've been cheating on me for eighty percent of the time we've been together. In fact, over our twenty five years of marriage, you were only faithful to me for five of those years. That is a fact isn't it?"




Without a Paddle



"Yes but..." I began.

"That doesn't seem like love to me," he said. "You let another man impregnate you and then fooled me into raising your lover's child. Is that true?"

"Yes but Mark..." I said again.

"That doesn't seem like love either," he said. "That actually sounds more like fraud. I don't want to see you in prison, Miriam; even though you've lied to me for twenty years. And I can't sue you to recoup the funds I've expended. There is a law in this state about assumed paternity. The law says that in the absence of any other compelling evidence, the husband in a marriage is assumed to be the father of any and all offspring produced."

"Why are we talking about all of this?" I asked. "I want to talk about what we have to do to get past this."

"Miriam we..." This time I cut him off.

"Why are you calling me Miriam?" I asked. "You only call me by my full name when you're really angry at me. It hurts, Mark."

"And finding out that my son isn't mine, didn't," he hissed. "Finding out that the woman I've loved for most of my fucking life has been spreading her legs for another man for most of our time together didn't hurt?" he asked. "At least you have a choice, Miriam. You can walk the fuck out of here any time you want. I didn't have one. I never knew what was going on." 

"I'm sorry, Mark," I cried. "You have no idea how sorry I am."

"No Miriam, you have no idea how sorry I am," he said. "I feel like I've wasted my entire life. I feel like all of the love and concern I had for you for the past twenty five years that we've been married and the two before that while we dated were all just wasted."

My mouth dropped open.

"Think about it Miriam. Every memory I have is tainted. When we went on vacation, were you really there with me or were you thinking about him? When you met me at the door and kissed me, were you really happy to see me or were you just giving him time to sneak out the back door. Every time we had sex it was probably just out of guilt and you were probably imagining that it was him. Every memory that we have is simply false now. None of it means anything anymore."

I simply didn't know what to say. I had no idea his pain went that deep or his anger. This was far worse than I thought.

"Why don't you tell me whatever it is that you wanted to say Miriam," he said. "We're getting nowhere and I have things to work out."

"Mark, why can't you understand that this isn't what you think," I said. "I never wanted this. I don't love George. I don't even like him." Mark started laughing then and it made me cry.

"If you don't like him, then why have you been fucking him for twenty years?" I asked.

"I...I didn't have a choice," I said. "Mark, this whole thing was really your fault. You started talking about me and the things we do in bed to George and you know how he is. He thinks that he deserves the best of everything. So he wanted to find out for himself. But I didn't find that out until later on."

"It all started when you went to that plant in Indiana for that manager's conference. I missed you so much that I cried every night while you were gone. About three nights before you got back George and Cora came over and we had a few drinks. Cora passed out and I guess I was drunker than I thought. George got me up and helped me to the living room so I could lie down. I'd told him how angry I was that you'd been gone for so long. It had only been five days but I was angry. We hadn't been apart for more than a day since we'd been together and I was irrational. George kept talking and he convinced me to lie down on the couch and just imagine that you were home. Then he started rubbing me and asking me how you did things."

"I told him and he tried to do it but it just felt wrong. The wine got to me and I started to feel sleepy. The next thing I remember, George was having sex with me. It wasn't sex, Mark. It wasn't anything like what you and I do. I just laid there like a rock. I was asleep for God's sake. As soon as I woke up, I pushed him off of me and screamed. I made him leave our house and for the next five years George and I were never alone together again. I made sure of it."

"When you got home, I'd already decided that it was probably my fault. We were both drunk and I was really angry at you, so I'd probably done something or said something to make him think that what he did was okay. I tried to do everything I could to show you that I loved only you, but I'd always done that, so it wasn't any different. I have always loved only you, Mark."

"Miriam, then why didn't you just tell me that you'd gotten drunk and been taken advantage of? I loved you enough, that I'd have forgiven you. I'd have gotten over it," he said. "...If you had given me the chance to try. But you didn't trust me, or how much I loved you enough for that; did you?"

"Bullshit," I spat. "You've always been more important to me than anything, Mark. And you know it. That's why I couldn't risk losing you. Six weeks later, I found out that we were pregnant and I just forgot about George. I blocked him out of my life. Let me ask you Mark; were we happy during my pregnancy and those first few years?"

"Yes we were," he said.

"Mark, I had no idea that Mark Jr. wasn't yours. In fact, I didn't find out until he was five years old. That DNA test that Mark Jr. had to take for school showed it. George heard me crying and ran over to find out what was wrong. Once he found out, he started pressuring me for sex to keep quiet about it. It wasn't sex Mark and it only happened twice a year. I just endured it to protect my family. I couldn't lose you, Mark. That's the mindset I took to help me get through it. I told myself that I was doing it to protect my men. "

"He never got what he wanted, Mark. He never got me the way you know me. There were no kisses, no real intimacy. I just let him put it in and rub away at me until he squirted into a condom. Then I opened the door and sent him away. I immediately went to the bathroom and washed away any traces of him and called you and told you how much I love you. You just never had any idea how much."

Neither of us said anything for a long time. He just looked at me and I could tell that as much as he was trying to stay aloof and detached, he was on the verge of tears.

"Miriam, I don't want you hurt," he said. "I don't want you poor and alone. I want us to split everything down the middle. You get half and I'll get the other half. I'll send you half of my check...If you don't mind I'd rather have the check direct deposited into your account and..."

"Mark, what the hell are you talking about?" I asked. I felt like my vision was beginning to close in on me from the sides. I was having trouble breathing as well. I put my hands on the table to steady myself. Mark looked like he wanted to try to comfort me. He reached for my shoulder and then pulled his hand back almost as if he'd burned himself. That hurt me more than anything else.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to do..."

"What didn't you mean to do?" I asked. "You didn't mean to touch me? Is that it? You're telling me that over a period of twenty four hours, I've gone from being the woman you love most in the world to some diseased whore that you're afraid to touch. Is that it? Are my festering lesions showing now, Mark? Or is..." I was sobbing. I ached to have him touch me. I hadn't expected this at all.

"Miriam, that not it at all," he said sadly. "But we can't be...We just have to get used to the fact that things are going to be...different. You're not..."

"I'm not what, God damn it?" I screamed. "I'm not perfect. I don't have huge tits like Cora and what I do have sags. My legs are getting thinner and my ass isn't as perky as it was. I think I have crow's feet forming in the corners of my eyes. So you're right Mark, I'm not perfect. And now that you have the chance, you want to go out and dump me for someone who is. Maybe someone younger, who runs every day like you do and works out and all of that shit. Fuck you, Mark. I know I'm not perfect. But I never was. The only person who ever thought I was beautiful or special was you, dumbass. So go find your perfect woman, Mark. But I can God damned guarantee you that she'll never love you as much as..."

"Miriam, that isn't what I meant at all," he said. "You mentioned yesterday. I guess all of this hinges on yesterday, doesn't it? Yesterday, I thought that you were the most beautiful and most special woman in the world. And you might not have been perfect then either, but you were perfect for me. I love every single line on your face. You have the softest, most wonderful ass on the planet. I've already gotten into trouble for telling that asshole about how good you are in bed and how special you made me feel. None of that has changed Miriam. Not one iota of it. What I tried to say was just that I can't keep reaching out to touch you or to hug you because whether you want to admit it or not, things did change yesterday Miriam. It's a fact. We can't avoid it or pretend that things didn't change, because everything is different. And the biggest one of those changes is that you aren't mine."

My brain refused to process that thought. It was like he'd just recited a mathematical formula with ten, fifteen digit numbers and expected me to give him an answer. My synapses understood what was necessary but I simply didn't have the computing power to come up with an answer. It was as if even conceiving of a world where the two of us were not together simply did not compute.

I stared at him blankly. And I could tell that he was even reeling from what he'd said. But looking in his eyes I could see that though it had hurt him to say the words, he meant them. If saying the words was a blow to the jaw, then realizing that he not only meant them but that he believed those blasphemous words to be true, was a gut punch. I think that if I'd had the choice between having Mark tell me what he'd just said or having him punch me in the stomach the way he'd done George the previous day, I'd have taken the punch.

"Miriam, you have to understand this," he said. "I've always based everything in my life around us. I knew that we loved each other and that because of that nothing else that happened really affected me. I knew that you and I would be together until one of us died. And even then if it was you who died first, I wouldn't have survived much longer. I never even called you Miriam; I called you "Miri," because I had to have my own little name for you. Because you were not only mine, you were a part of me."

"Fuck you, Mark," I spat. "I'll listen to your stupid words, but only so I can hear what you're thinking about this. It seems funny that for you to come in here and tell me that we have to be logical and deal in facts, when you're the one who's just spouting utter bullshit. I know in the bottom of my heart how I feel about you, Dummy. That has never changed. I'm the same woman you married. Mark, I would take a bullet for you. And you know it."

"And I'll tell you something else. I'm looking in your eyes right now and you're failing. You wanted to come in here and just say a couple of trick phrases and have this all over with. You expected me to just walk away with my tail between my legs and let you drive off into the sunset and then go on E-harmony and find yourself a forty five year old former Victoria's secret model to be happy with. But it's not going to happen. I will contest every statement you make. I will fight every attempt to separate us. I will distort, delay and finally defeat any divorce and most of all I will NEVER give up on us."

"Miriam," he began again as if I hadn't spoken. "Yesterday, I realized that a fundamental belief of mine had always been flawed. I guess I've always thought that even before we were married that we were a pair. I thought that we belonged together and that YOU were mine and mine alone..."

"I AM," I interrupted.

"Miriam, for the past twenty years at least, I've been sharing you with George," he said calmly. "I never knew it and I never would have agreed to do so. My wife has to be MY wife, not our wife. Every memory I have now needs to be re-processed."

My mouth dropped open. "Mark, it's not like..." I sputtered.

"Barely more than twenty four hours ago you woke me up with a spectacular blow job, Miriam. If it was up to me and Mark Jr. hadn't interrupted us, we'd still be in bed together now. Do you remember what the last thing you said to me then was?" 

"I was rubbing your, "you know what," and telling you I wanted some more of that later. You told me that it, like the rest of you belonged to me. If it was mine why would I share my pussy, with George? God damn it Miriam, I don't even let anyone drive my Mustang. Why would I share something as important as my wife with ANYONE?" he was actually screaming at me.

"Even before that," he said, "You told me that you'd never made love with anyone except ME," he'd calmed down to the point that he was no longer yelling, but the venom in his voice was still there. His voice was so raspy and so raw that I could feel his pain in every word.

"Another fucking lie, Miriam," he said acidly. "So if you look at this from my viewpoint, I have to question everything you've ever said to me. I'm not even sure there was ever an US. The woman I fell in love with and married probably no longer exists, but I do know that you're not her. My Miri would never have done this. So Miriam, can we get back to where we were before we went off track."

I just nodded. I wanted to stop talking. I just wanted this conversation over with. I wanted more than anything else for us to finish this and then make up and go upstairs to our room and get into our bed. We didn't even have to make love. I just wanted him to wrap his arms around me and tell me everything was going to be okay.

"It's just going to take time, Miri," he'd said it to me so many times that I could imagine him saying it right then. "Everything is going to work out, Miri. It's just going to take time."

"So, what check were we talking about?" I asked to change the subject.

"My paycheck, Miriam," he said. "I'm going to give you half of that, so you'll have some income. Don't you remember what we were talking about?"

"Mark, we're retired, remember?" I asked. I was beginning to think that what happened between us had driven him over the edge too.

"Miriam, I got my job back," he said. "I had to. We're not rich like George. When we retired it was based on the premise that we were going to live together. We have enough investments to generate income for the rest of our lives plus my 401K and social security, remember?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Miriam, the problem is that we factored in a vacation or two every year, plus a rainy day fund and we doubled the amounts of most of our bills, but we never figured that we'd maintain separate households. That means that even if one of us stays in this house, which is paid off, we're still going to have to add a mortgage and property taxes, or rent, plus more insurance, plus even more bills to the equation and the only way for us to swing that is if I go back to work. If, and that is questionable, but if, I get any money from George on either of my lawsuits, that would be split between us as well, but I'll be giving a big chunk of that to Mark Jr. because he suffered from this deception at least as much as I did."

"Mark, I don't understand any of this," I said. "Can you start again? It would be good to get some money from George, I'm suing him too. But I don't understand any of the things you said. Yesterday we were planning on going to Barbados and now all of a sudden we don't have enough money and we need another house."

"What's wrong with the house we live in now? I don't want to live anywhere else. I thought we'd decided against the whole idea of a vacation house. Remember, you, yourself said that trying to maintain too residences would be more effort than we wanted to expend. You kept saying that we were retiring, so we wanted to just relax and have fun together. I want to live here."

"Miriam, I have to have some place to live too," he said exasperatedly. He kept looking at me as if I just didn't understand him.

"Mark, what don't you like about our house?" I asked him.

"I love this house," he said.

"Then why can't we live here?" I asked. "And if we're moving, won't we get a lot of money when we sell the house?" Suddenly I thought I understood.

"Mark, you're afraid of George aren't you?" I laughed. "Or is it that you just don't trust me around him. You're afraid and jealous that your wife will succumb to the charms of the super sexy George Wilson. You're afraid that I'll start up again with the asshole who blackmailed me into having sex with him for all of that time. You don't have to worry about that Mark. It will never happen again, I..."

"Miriam, we need another house because we aren't going to be living together," he said. I stopped laughing and my smile faded.

"Miriam, we're not going to get past this. I can't," he said. "I think we need a divorce. That's why I've been trying to go over the bills and figure out how much money we need and what we can and can't afford to do."

"Mark, can't we..." I began. He just shook his head.

"Miriam, you hurt me too badly," he said. "I don't know what to do or even who I am anymore. I'm really thinking about leaving the area. Maybe I need a fresh start. Mark Jr. is thinking about it too. He's looking at a lot of different cities in his career field and what the outlook for jobs is. As for me, a good engineer can work anywhere. I figured you'd probably stay here or move to Richmond with your sister and her family. I'm sorry, but I think it's for the best."

I was stunned. I couldn't think of anything to say.

"I'll have your divorce papers for you as soon as you get a lawyer. To save money we could even get the same person to handle both sides. I want to be as fair as possible Miriam. I really want us to come up with something that is fair to both of us and that allows both of us to have what we want," he said.

"Mark, that would be the easiest thing in the world to do and it wouldn't require money or lawyers," I said. "All I want is you."

Two days later, Mark and I went to his lawyer's office. I watched as they drew up the paper work. We made several different sets. One for if I wanted to live in the house. One for if Mark stayed in the house and one just in case we decided to sell the house and both of us live elsewhere. The only thing that I kept saying throughout the process was that I didn't want a divorce and that I wouldn't ever agree to one.

After the papers had been drawn up, Mark helped me to find another lawyer who could act in my interests alone. She looked over the papers and after asking the reason for our divorce, told me that the settlement, considering what had happened, was extremely fair and that Mark could probably have tried to sue me the way he was suing George. She also told me to take any one of them and move on because most judges wouldn't give me what I was getting. I told her that I'd known that Mark would never try to cheat me. In fact, he was going to pay me half of his salary for the entire time that he continued to work. Most judges would have capped it at 8 to ten years at the max. She did note that there was the contingency that the payments would stop if I re-married. I simply laughed at her.

I told Mark that I didn't understand the need for the other lawyer in the first place. He told me that he'd wanted me to have someone who looked out just for me. That way I could be assured that he and his lawyer weren't trying to pull a fast one on me or cheat me. I laughed again.

After the meeting, the lawyer asked me to stay for a few moments. I asked Mark if it would be okay. He told me to take all of the time I needed. The lawyer asked me why I'd asked his permission.




Without a Scratch



This story is dark.

Hurtling along in the dark midnight hours at 75 miles per hour, down a long straight stretch of Arizona Interstate 10-a road to nowhere in particular and everywhere specifically-I become lulled by the monotony of the ride. I'm Bill Dolezol. I'm about 6' around 200 pounds, a little bit overweight, sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. I began dreaming, dreaming of my wife at 22 years old when we were married. She was so pretty, ripe with innocent sexuality, playful, erotic, eternally horny, so desirous; those were the days before pain, emotional scarring, the rage, hurt, insult, unexpected cheating and forsaken love.

We'd been married 8 years when it all blew. We were both 30, well on our ways to successful careers, neither of us desiring children. We both worked hard and played hard. Our wedding was prefaced with serious talks. We'd agreed on fidelity, absolute fidelity. We'd agreed, no children. We'd agreed where we'd live, how to handle our finances, who cooked, who cleaned and when, who took the garbage out and most of the myriads of things couples were likely to face. We were proactive, we told ourselves, and had these talks before we tied the knot. Most importantly, we agreed on our sex lives.

All that is not to say we didn't realize the possibilities that might arise which would create a need for revisions, and we both agreed on how to revise. We were one. We'd left our mothers and fathers and clung to each other.

Our sex life was perfect, at least for me and I thought so for her too. We'd decided we each had the right of refusal at any given time, but we also agreed not to defraud one another by using sex as an instrument of persuasion or control.

We both loved oral, neither cared for anal, she loved my cock, often licking, sucking, stroking and playing with it for long periods of time. She loved it when it was large, hard and purple; she totally perved on wearing it out and enjoyed toying with it when it was spent and small and shriveled. When it was out, she was touching, kissing, licking, scratching, stroking, playing with it.

I worshipped her body, caressing, licking, nuzzling, breathing, kissing, stroking and sucking on her erogenous zones regularly. I loved slowly arousing her, bringing her to the brink of orgasm, then backing her off, only to bring her back and then finally pushing her over the edge, all with my tongue, lips and fingers, before we fucked. We lived for one another and for our closeness.

For me, there was no indication of any restlessness or dissatisfaction. I was content and I thought Brooke was too. She often told me she was happy and that she loved me. I often repeated the same to her.

I'd left on my once yearly week-long business trip to the home office in Atlanta. I went back for a week each year for updating, training on new product development, information about the competition, marketing tactics, and whatever else the company wanted to impart. It was part of the package when I hired on and we both agreed it was ok, do-able and acceptable as part of our overall plan.

The fellow who led the training sessions in Atlanta, Del Mason choked on a piece of his lunch the first day we were there, Monday. Several of us from the class tried the Heimlich maneuver on him to no avail. He died right there in front of us. Distraught doesn't begin to describe how we all felt, but we were helpless to save him without the medical training we might have used to save him.

We were dismissed back to our homes by the company president at 4 pm after we'd waited around in the classroom all afternoon. We were to make our own travel arrangements and go home; they'd be in touch when they figured out what to do about our updates.

The company arranged for a bus to take us back to the airport and we all set about getting our flights back to our respective homes on our own. I never called Brooke, it never crossed my mind. There was so much that had happened, and with the pressure to get a flight back, I was busy, preoccupied and upset by the death of the instructor right in front of me.

I left for Phoenix at 6 pm Atlanta time, having lucked out and caught a 2 stop flight that wasn't full. We arrived at Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix at 8:15 pm, we gained three hours from Eastern time to Pacific time, so I was walking into my house at 9 pm, just 16 hours after I'd left it at 5 am for Atlanta that morning.

Brooke is a tall, willow fox of a woman. She's lean, has large hands and long fingers with long dark brown hair to her waist, with green eyes, C-cup breasts, a flat and firm belly, very slim waist and small but round butt that really is something to behold. She's bright, thoughtful and focused. She was my dream girl. I was glad she chose me, glad I'd chosen her and, as far as I was concerned, we were on our happy way to forever together. 

Brooke worked in a medical clinic as a Licensed Practical Nurse and was the personal assistant to one of the thirty doctors that had offices there, Marc LeBlanc. Her job was to see the patient after they'd been shown into the exam room, take their vital signs, note any comments or complaints on the patient's chart, ask pertinent questions and then inform the doctor that the patient was ready.

Dr. Marc LeBlanc was a distinguished looking, handsome and fit 44 year old endocrinologist with a 46 year old wife and three children. He's into physical fitness, has no excess weight, is very bright and is cool as a cucumber. Meaning, nothing much seems to ruffle his feathers. He's probably 6'3" with dark hair and I'm guessing he weighs in at 180, very trim and fit. Being so tall, he is a commanding presence, especially given his demeanor, which is 'all business and no nonsense'.

Brooke worked for him for 3 years. She loved her job and loved her boss. He was helpful to her obtaining her LPN and she was also working to become a full RN under his tutelage. As far as I'd known there was never any indication of anything untoward happening between them. I had absolute confidence in Brooke, especially because of our understanding from before we were married. He seemed happily married to his wife, Connie, dedicated to his children and his work. He did a strange way about him though. 

I'd met him several times, at Christmas parties and summer picnics that the clinic sponsored for all the Doctors and staff from the various doctors' offices. He looked at me as if to gauge me, to sense from me how I felt about Brooke and he watched her and me together. It was strange, but I had never considered it seriously. It was only later that I remembered the feelings I had when I'd met him.

-- -- --

Alarming noises intrude; I tumble back awake with violent motion that becomes rolling over and over, down, down, over and then smash to a sudden stop. I smell the odor of hot rubber, hot oil spilling on a hot manifold, overheated engine coolant and electrical smoke. My seat belt unsnaps easily and I fall onto my head and shoulder. My car is resting upside down, the front and back glass are out, the contents of my car scattered around beside me. I am tangled up in the airbags that all had deployed in the car.

I feel around, try to sense if I'm bleeding or if I have pain. Am I, for sure, conscious? I have no pain, but I'm aware that sometimes trauma is not immediately noticeable. I know that I need to get out of this car right away; because I can smell electrical smoke and that might ignite into a gasoline fire, which would roast me for sure.

The hood is smashed up and in the way of a frontal exit, so I scramble towards the back seat and out the back window. It is pitch black outside and I can sense that I am on a slope. I cannot immediately tell how far down I am from the road surface, but I do know I am below it.

Struggling at not being able to see anything for the thick black darkness, and with confusion, fear and trying to figure out what to do, I begin taking one step up at a time, carefully trying to feel my way back to the road. 

It was about 2 am the last I looked at the clock in the car, so there isn't much traffic out. So far, I haven't heard any other vehicle driving by. It is so black, so hard to see. I very carefully make my way, one step-feel around-then another tentative step, uphill and feel around, then another. 

I hear a hiss and rattling to my right, nearby. "It's a rattlesnake", I think. I move one step to the left, the rattling stops. Another step up the slope, then a few more; it is slow going. Finally, the ground levels and I realize I am on the roadbed. I feel myself all over, no pain, no broken bones and apparently no blood. I do not detect injury. I am, Without a Scratch.

I follow the road for a ways, trying to distance myself from my car in case it blows up. The force of an explosion and fire might finish my night; I needed to be farther away.

I sat there waiting for someone to come by, my cell phone lost in the debris below me, in the wreckage of my car. It was sitting on the console beside me recharging when I last remember seeing it as I sped down the highway lost in my thoughts.

The stars, set against the deep black sky is literally all I can see. They are beautiful. I muse, "No trouble up there". I sense a spirit of despair, discouragement and hopelessness. I wonder if I'll ever find contentment again. I check my pockets and find the rolled up wad of hundred dollar bills that I'd removed from the bank the previous afternoon. There is five thousand in that roll and I have a cashier's check for thirty thousand more in my billfold, which is in my back pants pocket. 

Moments pass, minutes, then maybe a dozen of them before I hear the sound of an approaching vehicle in the distance, coming from the direction I think I have just come. I stand up, hoping I will be seen, but realizing I need to be careful not to get hit, in case the approaching driver doesn't see me in time to react. 

Finally, headlights appear on the horizon at last. Frantically, I wave and I yell. The older pickup truck rolls by me, slowing down as it does. About 30 yards down the road, it stops. I begin walking/running towards it and see that there are people in the bed of the pickup truck waiting on me to hurry and get in. 

I get to the rear corner and can barely make out the faces of 3 people, staring at me silently. "I, I've had a wreck. I need help. Do you have a phone?" I asked. 

Mumbling in Spanish, they say nothing to me directly but the driver says, "Andale. Sientense, vamoose." (Hurry. Sit down, let's go). I hop in and sit next to a young man, across from another. A woman sits watching me from the front of the pickup bed, by the cab.

It dawns on me that these are illegals. Coyotes are driving the pickup, making their nightly run to pick up boarder jumpers along the road as they make their way out of Mexico during the night into the Land of Opportunity. I am able to speak and understand basic Spanish and can communicate with the young man sitting next to me some. The people in the bed of that truck had been told to walk to the interstate highway; to the part that parallels the border a few miles north of their country. Then these coyotes prowled along all night one after another picking them up and taking them to a warehouse outside Tucson, where these fellow travelers of mine, paid the coyote and went on their way throughout the USA.

They have water, gallon plastic jugs of water; the girl in front offers me one that has about two inches of water left in the bottom. I drink it all, telling her, "Thank you," repeating, '"Gracias," in Spanish, handing the empty jug back to her. They seem puzzled. I guess it is because I speak Spanish, and that I'm white. They must wonder why I'd be wandering around out there in the desert, looking for a ride with them. 

The driver doesn't seem to be the wiser about me. He's driving along looking for other pedestrian boarder jumpers to pick up, and he must assume I am one of the Mexicans headed to somewhere up north. He'll collect his fee when we got to wherever he is taking them, us...me. I feel to see if my wallet is in my back pocket. It is. I can feel the hard wad of 50 one hundred dollar bills in my front pocket press against my thigh as we jostle down the highway.

The old pickup lopes along, stopping occasionally to pick up another wanderer in the desert and soon we are crammed full. We are nearing the lights of Tucson, but it's still 45 minutes away at the rate we are ambling along. 

-- -- --

My mind wanders back to what the heck I was doing when I crashed. "Oh, I was thinking about Brooke. Yeah, and, me, and, all that had happened in the past few days, all that pain, the death of Del Mason, the hurt the betrayal and treachery of what I discovered when I got home. I remember now. I must have dozed off and drove off the road, tumbling down a roadside washout. But, I don't seem to be hurt."

We pull into a warehouse just at dawn in south Tucson. Yawning and stretching, I hop out of the back of the pickup. The coyote looks at me like a tuna boat captain eyes the shark in his net. He wants to know when I got on and how long I've been in the truck. 

"I think about three AM", I tell him, "I had a rollover back on highway 10; thankfully you stopped to pick me up." I speak in English to him.

My fellow passengers in the pickup line up to hand him money, which are their fares for further travel into civilization from the Mexican border. Then, they'll disperse throughout the United States. 

Other trucks and cars leaving from this warehouse will take these men and women around the country. This underground network that funnels illegals into and around the United States is centered right here in this warehouse on the outskirts of Tucson. And, I now off the grid to my family, friends, colleagues and wife. Eventually, they'd find my wrecked car, find out it was me driving, that I am not there with it, so I was able to get out, but no record of where I went or where I am.

The coyote is acting like he is on the horns of a dilemma. On one hand he can't charge me money like the others he picked up because I am not illegal and am not seeking a ride any further into the US. On the other hand, he doesn't want me to leave and turn him in to the Border Patrol, exposing his warehouse and operation. It dawns on me that he is seriously considering killing me. 

I smile, stick my hand out and walk towards him, thanking him for the ride, saving me. He seems unsure of what to do. As I get to him I swing at him as hard as I can, connecting squarely on his chin. He goes down like a turd in a punch bowl. He doesn't move. The others stand there looking at me not sure whether to run or hide. I just smile and walk out of the warehouse. Oh, how my hand hurts, I wonder if I've broken something.

-- -- -- 

As I drove up the street to my home, it was only 9 pm; "I might get lucky yet tonight", I joyously thought. "She'll be so surprised and happy to see me"

When I pressed the garage door opener, my bay was occupied by a black Mercedes. The vanity license plate read, "LeBlanc". My mouth went dry, my body tensed, I thought, "Oh, surely-NO!"

Entering the house through the connecting door off the garage I came into the utility room. I slipped through the closed door into the living room and stood, listening. 

"I am, I said...I am, said I", Neil Diamond crooning away on our stereo from the bedroom was the noise I heard. "We hadn't played that CD in a long time," I think. 

Muffled moans and whispers were softly audible as I walked in disbelief towards our bedroom. They'd never heard the garage door open, or me enter the house.

I turned the corner and the bedroom door was open at the end of the hall, the room was lit with candles and I could see Marc LeBlanc's torso between my wife's legs, his arms on either side of her body, pumping away talking to her, looking into her eyes and her cooing back at him as they slowly, lovingly copulated.

"How could this be happening? No, I'm dreaming, Brooke, NO!" I trembled from within.

As I walked down the hall towards the bedroom, their noises became more intense, he pumps faster, she moans that familiar keen, signaling her impending orgasm, and I sensed they were about to climax together.

I walked right into the room and smashed Brooke's boss on the right side of his head with my fist as hard as I could. As he fell to his left, his cock pulled out of her pussy and he squirted his seed all over. It made an arc in the air as he fell off her and onto the floor. They were fucking without condoms. Add insult to injury.

I stood for a moment looking at Brooke who was trying to stifle her orgasm, looking back at me in silent shock, unable to even utter a sound or move a muscle. I could see she was orgasming, I'd seen it a thousand times on her face, in her eyes. But now, the ecstasy mixed with shame and fear; "wow, what an emotional cocktail that must be", I think.

Marc stood up and came right at me, his average sized cock pointing straight at me, glistening and drooling with their mixed body fluids. He is fourteen years older, but two or three inches taller, I'm heavier and not in shape and he is in magnificent shape. He swung at me and got me on the cheek. We fought. We exchanged blows and finally we were wrestling around on the floor, him naked and I fully clothed. I couldn't get ahold of him because he was slick and sweaty; he was manhandling me easily, pulling on my shirt and making it harder for me to get a square shot at him with my fists. 

Though older, he, obviously, was in far better condition than me, and was handling me easily. I struggled so hard to best him that I became labored in my breathing, unable to catch a cleansing breath. Then I felt shearing chest pain like I'd never known. I stopped struggling and fell over onto the floor, ceasing all resistance. I couldn't get my breath and I had crushing pain in my jaw and shoulder and chest so badly I was paralyzed. My thoughts were filled with emotional pain, raging anger, agonizing physical distress and pain, numbing fear. I couldn't breathe and I was fading fast, I knew I was passing out.

When I came around a little bit, Marc was on his naked knees beside me breathing into my mouth and then doing compressions to my chest. As he knelt beside me pressing on my chest, his wet, dripping cock drizzled onto my upper torso, shoulder and upper arm. 

Ever the doctor, he was saving my life even as my naked treacherous wife, now finished with her orgasm, dialed 911. I went out again.

Next, I remember waking in the ambulance for a moment or two, watching an ambulance tech taking my vital signs and adjusting an IV she'd stuck in my arm, talking to the driver. We were moving fast and then I was gone again.

I woke and was in a darkened room on a flat hard table with gowned and masked men and women around me, all looking either at my groin or at the tv beside me. A screen was on the left, by my head and I could see what looked like a beating heart and a wire snaking its way around by it in an x-ray like looking picture. I could feel pain, and then hear the click of a camera. 

I was in cardiac catheter laboratory and was having an angiogram of my heart. It was my heart on the screen and they were looking to see what was going on, shooting dye through my vascular system and watching for blockages or problems. I remember realizing that I was totally stoned; they'd given me something that cushioned me. I was not alarmed; I was not concerned, though I felt the terrible pain. I was conscious and aware. They had oxygen on me and I just lay there stripped and bare before them as they threaded the camera up through my groin and my aorta to my heart. 

Finally, they were done and pulled the wire and all their contraptions out of me, closed my groin up with a stitch or two, and held pressure on the artery to stop any bleeding. I was wheeled into an ICU room where there were two nurses in attendance to me for a few hours. I slept.




Without a Scratch



Time now not being perceived at all, I woke to the sounds of beeps and electric whirring, but I don't know when or how long it was after all that had taken place. I was alone, but soon a nurse entered and called for the doctor when she saw I was awake.  

Doctor Tim Rouse was at my side in only a moment. "Bill, you've had a myocardial infarction, a heart attack. Because Dr. LeBlanc acted so promptly, performing CPR, it probably saved your life, and you have no heart damage at all that I can see. I think the MI, the heart attack, was brought on by a traumatic event, coupled with sudden physical activity and straining, and also, that you aren't exactly a specimen of a good, healthy lifestyle. I expect you to make a full recovery, but you will be on thin ice if you don't change your life style, watching what you eat and start exercising. Oh, and avoid any more sudden trauma coupled with great exertion"

"Avoid it? I certainly didn't go looking for this. I'm only 30, doc. Can this really be my heart that cause all this?" I asked incredulously.

"Absolutely it's your heart, Bill. Like I said, you've had a heart attack. That you're only 30 only speaks to your life style, your lack of exercise and the sudden emotional trauma you suffered along with the sudden physical exertion and straining." He explained again. Apparently he could tell that I was in denial about this and he was trying to making his point to me, again.

I was stunned, silent, and then remorseful. I began to cry. It all flooded back and I remembered what I'd seen, how I felt, what had happened. How I hurt because the love of my life betrayed me and she did it in my own bed, our bed where we'd owned one another, taken possession of each other so many times.

"There's right and there's wrong. This was wrong. Many people suffer wrong and endure it. I won't 'endure' this, this will be recompensed," I resolved from within as I cried and cried.

The nurse seemed alarmed and began to try to soothe me, but the doctor beckoned her back. "It's ok; it's a release for him. It will serve him to cry it out, it's therapeutic for him to relieve some of the pent up emotion he's still got. Let him go for a while, he'll be ok."

The doctor just said he'd look back in on me in a bit, but the nurse stayed. I cried for a long while. Actually, I sobbed.

When I finally dried up a bit, I told her that I needed to make sure I had no visitors, that I did not want my wife in the room at all; or anyone else either. 

She said that my wife was waiting to see me, but she'd see to it that I was not disturbed.

I actually do not know how long I was in the hospital. Time had lost relevance and it never registered to me how long I was there. I suppose it was a few days.

But finally I was released. My wife had gone home and so the coast was clear. 

When I did look at a clock it was 12 pm as I was wheeled out to a cab at the front of the hospital. I thought Brooke might possibly be at work, so I asked the cab to take me to my house. 

My Buick had been parked behind Marc LeBlanc's Mercedes as it sat in my stall in the garage when I got home Monday night. But they'd moved it to the street so they could get his car out, and on the street my car still sat. 

Brooke was not at home, so I got my still unpacked suitcase from where I left it in the utility room, and packed two more. I tossed my wedding ring on the bed, and left. I had to make three trips to the car because I was weak from several days in bed and because I wanted to be careful to not induce another heart attack.

I went to the bank and took out in cash, every dime that I could get. The rest they gave me in a cashier's check. I cancelled all our credit cards, drove to my office and quit my job. Brooke had called them and told them I'd returned home early from Atlanta, but was in the hospital, that I'd be in touch as soon as I could. She did not know why I had come home early. The people in my office knew I'd returned early, and why, but nobody apparently told Brooke.

I had not spoken one word to my wife. Our eyes had met while she was in the throes of her Marc LeBlanc induced orgasm, but no words were exchanged between us since I'd returned home.

-- -- --

I was starving after laying the coyote out in his warehouse. I was in unfamiliar territory, but I realized it was a probably heavily Hispanic part of town.

There were no cabs in that part of the outskirts of Tucson at that early hour, so I walked. Because it was right after dawn, it was safe. All the bad boys were either stoned or home in bed, I reckoned.

Finally, after an hour of walking mostly north, I found a busy restaurant. I went in and got a booth in the back. I ordered oatmeal with dry toast, orange juice and a boiled egg. 

This was not my usual fare of Bacon and eggs with a side of hash browns, grits and biscuits and gravy, as I remembered Dr. Rouse's stern admonition concerning my diet and life style. "Ok, beginning today changes will be made", I thought to myself. "Actually, beginning Monday night, when I got home from Atlanta, they started."

As I ate, I sat there thinking. I'd already begun the long, arduous journey that I knew I'd need to make to reclaim any sense of direction in my life.

Using the restaurant business phone, loaned to me by my flirty waitress, I called the Arizona Highway Patrol and reported my accident. I told them where I was placing the call from, where I thought the accident had occurred and that I needed my possessions from the car. An officer came to the restaurant, since I had no way to go to him, and took the report over his own breakfast. That was cool, he was cool. You know if the cops eat there, the food is good.

Officer Brian Vance took me back out to the site of the wreck, ordered a tow and took me back to Tucson. I was surprised to see that the car never caught fire.

What a great guy this young officer was. He did write me a ticket, telling me, "It's required, we must assign fault and you are totally at fault here. You fell asleep at the wheel. It won't be bad, just 3 points and a couple hundred dollars or so. I'll lighten the charges so it won't ding you too bad."

I was glad I'd bought the man's breakfast. He took me back to Tucson and helped me find a comfortable room. 

With police report in hand and my cell phone back in my possession, I got ahold of the insurance company. They had an adjuster come look at the car and wrote me a check on the spot. I love State Farm. I walked to the closest car dealer to my motel, a Kia dealer, and bought a new Sorrento. It was priced about what I got out of my older Buick, and the Sorrento was new, so I came out ok, I thought. 

I gave them the check from State Farm after I'd negotiated my price down to what the check was written for. They looked stunned when I gave them the check. I'd purposely held out for that amount so I didn't have to come up with more, and they yielded when I walked out on them during negotiations. 

I knew that with all the police reports, accident activity and now new car purchase, with tax and license that I'd be easily traced if Brooke tried to find me. I hoped she was trying to find me, because I was going to war with her doctor friend and her. I did not care if they found me; I had nothing more to lose, and everything to gain if I could win. 

Whether they found me or not, I decided that I was now looking for them.

I'd asked Brian Vance, the Arizona Patrolman for the name of a Pit Bull type of divorce lawyer and he gave me the name of the most feared in Tucson, Alfred Bell, Esq.

I got right in to see Mr. Bell. He was probably 65, medium sized. His gaze gave me shudders. His steel blue cold eyes, no hint of a smile, perfectly kept hair and silk Italian suit, emitted confidence, aggression, competence and collusion. 

My preliminary fee was $5,000. I handed him my cashier's check and he took it, promising me my change the next day. 

I told Mr. Bell all that had happened. I told him about Marc LeBlanc, MD., how I caught him fucking Brooke, how I fought with him, that I had a heart attack and he saved my life. I wanted him to hurt; I wanted him to know I had no thanks in my soul towards him for saving my life, since my goal at the time was to take his. I wanted to sue LeBlanc, I wanted to ruin his marriage and I wanted to shame and humiliate Brooke, as well as hurt her financially.

Mr. Bell suggested that since I'd had a heart attack, he would also try to get me some extra cash from LeBlanc for his part in that, too, never mind that he'd saved my life. 

It had been a couple days since I had checked my cell phone for messages. Just too much had happened and I never thought to look. There were several, many from Brooke.

Brooke's main theme was, "Bill, please contact me. We need to talk. It was the first time, honest." "Bill, I love you. Please, let's work this out." "Bill I went to gas up and they refused my credit card." "Bill, There's no money in the account for the house payment or electricity bill, what have you done?" "Bill, where are you, they said you quit your job." "Bill, I've been fired, I need to know when you are coming home."

"Piss on her and the horse she rode in on," were my only thoughts about her messages.

There were other calls, some were repeats from her. My folks called, her dad called, my ex-boss called wanting me to come back to the company, explaining that even with all the traumatic events that had happened in Atlanta, the company felt they needed to salvage me because I am vital to the company. And, my ex-boss advised me that my wife had been making a nuisance of herself. 

I called my ex-boss and had a nice long visit. I told him the situation with my wife, and that I was in Tucson and needed time and distance for the moment until I could figure out a plan. He got me to agree to return to work at a substantial increase in pay and benefits, but I told him I needed a month or so to recover from the heart attack and to reintegrate myself into some sort of a life in Phoenix that did not include Brooke. He was very amenable, telling me to get back when I could, that he'd hold my job open for me. He also said I had some money coming to me yet that I hadn't gotten when I had been in earlier in the week. I asked him to hold it for me, that I'd need it when I got back. He said that he had the check in his desk at that moment. It was actually a bonus for not quitting, agreeing to stay on at the company, and an incentive to keep me happy. I was still not scratched.

Mr. Bell wanted information. I signed releases of all sorts; for the hospital to give him my medical records and doctors' notes. I gave him power of attorney to deal with Brooke and her attorney, instructing him not to give her or anyone my current whereabouts. He told me he would do a thorough background on Marc LeBlanc, on the medical clinic and on Brooke. 

I told Mr. Bell that I was going to slip back to Phoenix and find a place to live, but that he was to proceed with divorce papers and a lawsuit against Marc LeBlanc personally and against the Medical Clinic that he was part owner of, which Brooke was an employee of under Marc LeBlanc. I also advised Mr. Bell that I would pay no alimony, no house payments or utilities. Brook would need to figure it out or fail on her own. I wanted nothing to do with her. I figured Marc LeBlanc was probably helping her financially.

We sued the medical clinic for twenty million dollars for allowing employee fraternization causing this divorce action. We settled for six hundred thousand. Mr. Bell got a third. We sued Marc LeBlanc for twenty million dollars and got nothing. His wife beat us to it and he took banko. That was acceptable. I'd watch and see, maybe sneak up on him later.

According to Mr. Bell's investigators, Brooke got a job in a nursing home dispensing medication to the residents. Her pay was less than she was making with Marc LeBlanc and she lost the house, lost her car and was living alone in a studio apartment not far from her new job. She walked to work.

-- -- --

For the first year after the trauma of finding my wife fucking her boss in my home, in our marital bed, I got busy doing two things, mostly. The first thing is, I became a regular at the gym. I work out for one hour in the morning and walk/run two miles at night. My diet became healthier and my body shows the benefits of my labors.

The second thing I did was plunge back into my job. I found a nice apartment in Gilbert, a suburb of Phoenix, and commute to downtown. My new digs are a top floor three bedroom, two bathroom penthouse with a 360 degree view of the Phoenix Metropolitan area. It is stunning. I have no place to spend my additional income, let alone my windfall from the lawsuit against the clinic, so I pigeon hole it. I keep it in cash hidden, and I buy gold coins and stash them. Every pay day, I put enough to cover my bills in the bank and take the rest in cash. I buy a gold coin if I have the money or put the cash away in my hiding spot if I do not. 

I eventually expect a visit from Brooke and want to be liquid if she tries to come after me for alimony or for her half of what we accumulated. It may have only been fair to give her half, but what she did wasn't fair. Fuck her. I didn't have any inclination to be fair to her since her treachery towards me.

She never really fought me on anything. She signed the divorce papers and accepted things without a peep. To my surprise, the divorce went through during the first year after I'd discovered her tryst.

Being a regular at the gym, I gradually met others who work out at the same time. Some of the men have become friends and one of the women is now my lover. Her name is Kandy, and she and I hit it off well. We weren't really dating, but we became friends with bennies, which suits us both just fine. She's a petite blonde with incredible, edible thighs, tiny little mosquito-bite breasts that are ultra-sensitive, a turned up nose, dimples in her cheeks and she does love to fuck. She also likes to leave when we're through. We get together after hours about 2 or 3 times per week, with occasional sleep overs. It suits us both well.

All the physical exercise and healthy eating has changed my appearance and my attitude. My job performance and income has improved and I seem to be on the mend, emotionally. 

Except, I still burn inside about the seduction of my wife, by a man in authority, her boss, who was in a position of trust and who seduced her. I still have no idea how it all happened, or when it started. I found out from Mr. Bell what I could about Dr. Marc LeBlanc and set out to follow him once or twice per week, on different days, at different times. Looking for patterns, indications of his social life and if it included Brooke still. 

I stalked my prey at his home, at his work, at the grocery store. Wherever and whenever I could, I made it my hobby to find Marc Bell on any given day and follow him, get to know more about him. I even watched as he picked up his kids from his ex-wife and took them to a park and then to Dairy Queen. They sat inside eating their sundaes while I sweltered in the Arizona heat outside watching them. The kids were mid-teens, I'd guess, but everyone likes a Dairy Queen Sundae now and then.

Always from a distance, I kept an eye on Marc LeBlanc. Not every day, but a few times per week. He'd moved on from the medical clinic after the lawsuit, probably had to sell his corporate shares under duress, I guessed, perhaps to settle my lawsuit. 

The medical clinic had strict non fraternization rules in place. Even though LeBlanc was a shareholder in the corporation, he is bound by the rules and subject to the board's judgments and decisions. Medical clinics and physicians carry large insurance policies that generally are umbrellas for liability of actions from the physicians they insure. Physicians are regularly sued for medical decisions they make and occasionally for things like this incident with the seduction of and ruined marriage of an employee. I was the beneficiary of that part of their insurance. We settled out of court.

LeBlanc left the clinic and landed in a large hospital in Glendale working in their endocrinology department. Mr. Bell indicated he was pretty well broke. But, he was making good money again and I kept track of him when I could. I'd sit in my Kia and watch his comings and goings once in a while, trying to get a feel for his life, his patterns. From what I could tell, he and Brooke were done, but I did not know for sure.

Another year passed. I decided the only real satisfaction that I'd ever have would be to kill Marc LeBlanc. Though I'd hurt him and he'd lost his wife and children, his job, his wealth, I wasn't satisfied. He was rebounding and I couldn't allow his life to soar again. Nope, this man must die.

How he managed to seduce Brooke, I had no idea. He must've been a master. I was sure that she was mine, I'd have bet my life on her. How he ingratiated himself to her, got inside her protective zone and then exploited her like he did, fucking her without a condom just plain pissed me off. I couldn't find my way around it.

I knew he may still be physically superior to me and so I reasoned that I had to get the jump on him. I waited for him beside his car one night as he was leaving the hospital. As he walked to his car in the darkened garage, I grabbed him around the neck from behind, stuck a 6 inch blade in his right kidney and twisted. Just as I inserted the knife into his body, I whispered in his ear, "I'd like to thank you for saving my life, oh, and you ruined it, too." 

He collapsed, looked up at me and recognition swept across his face. The death mask replaced it. He bled out right there on the ground at my feet as I watched. I took his wallet, his watch, Masonic ring, and his gold necklace so it'd look like a robbery. The gold necklace had an inscription, "To Marc from Brooke. Love, Always". 

"Where did she get the money to buy that?" I wondered.

His wallet had a few hundred in it, I dispersed his credit cards among the street people downtown. I treated myself to a new set of tires for my Kia with his cash. His watch also had an inscription, "All my love forever, -Brooke." 

I suppose that was the answer to the question, "Are they still seeing one another?" But, I still wondered where she got the money. Maybe he was paying her. I had no idea.

The murder of Dr. Marc LeBlanc made the evening news the next night and the police promised to do due diligence in finding the murderer. I was never questioned. I always wondered why. I hoped it was because they were off chasing rabbit trails about it being a robbery. No other motives, apparently, were assigned to his death.

What with the engraved watch and necklace, it was obvious to me that Brooke and LeBlanc were still an item, or at least getting together occasionally for a fuck. I realized that she loved him.

With his death, I knew I'd run into Brooke sooner or later. I just knew she'd find me to try to smoke me out, get me to admit to his murder, or kill me herself...or, seduce me. I'd be ready.

I received a phone call at the office, one afternoon from what I thought was one of our suppliers, but I did not recognize the number. "You killed him didn't you? I know it was you. You've impoverished me and now you killed this good and decent man who only tried to help me and help people...he was a doctor for God's sake, Bill...You Bastard!" It was Brook and it was 2 years since our last conversation. It was a diatribe, but I hadn't heard her voice in all that time. She was yelling and crying into the phone at me. It was unsettling and I wondered if she intended to do me harm, or come after me in some way.

She slammed the phone down. I never uttered a word. I never had a chance to. She was definitely distraught.




Without a Scratch



Two weeks after Marc LeBlanc was laid to rest I was at home on a Saturday morning sleeping in, catching up on my sleep. I had my friend, Kandy, with me who'd slept over. We'd been up late dancing the horizontal mambo. 

A knock, a loud intrusive knock, came on my front door. I answered the door naked, it was Brooke. She stood in my doorway looking at me standing there in the doorway looking at her. She was dressed, I was not. She looked haunted, her eyes ringed with red, her hair a mess, she was crying.

"You've gained weight! Get the fuck out of here you shameful cunt and do not ever come back here", I seethed at her, slamming the door in her face.

"We have to talk," she yelled through the door. "Open up Bill."

"Wait 5 minutes." I yelled through the door at her.

I went into the bedroom and got my night time partner up. "You have to leave, something bad is about to happen and I don't want you around when it does," I said.

I ushered Kandy out the back way, down the fire escape. I picked up my Springfield Armory 40 caliber S & W XDM, and, still nude, walked quietly to the front door. I listened for a moment and then suddenly opened the door.

Brooke was standing there with a revolver pointing right at me. I aimed and fired at the same time she fired. My round went through her left eyeball; her round missed me altogether, embedding itself into the wall over my left shoulder. She went down without a sound. How she could miss from just 4 or 5 feet away, I don't know.

I called 911. The police dug her bullet out of my wall and the medical examiner dug my bullet out of her brain. I told my story and after a few days, I was informed that no charges would be filed. They did not, however, return my XDM to me.

Nobody ever contacted me about the death of Marc LeBlanc, though I expected they would. I even wondered if I'd be arrested at some point. I suppose the lack of evidence went for me, though I do not know for sure. Over 2 years had elapsed between our confrontation in my bedroom and his death, so it was just overlooked, I imagine.

This is one of those things where life just goes on. There is no real ending, because I'm still here, still functioning, still working, still fucking occasionally, still eating and exercising taking care of myself.

I grieved. I did. It was terrible. It lasted over a year, but I did wake up one day and realize that the gift of life is still mine and it is mine to do with as I will. 

I do not seek another wife, but I like an occasional roll in the hay. I have friends, but none close enough to hurt me emotionally. I interact, laugh, joke, empathize when necessary and encourage when possible. 

I'm 40 now. A lot has happened to me in such a short life. My best friend is Luke, my Yellow Labrador Retriever.

I still have my job. I've turned down promotions that would have moved me to other parts of the country, but I received raises and live comfortably. I really got through all this without a scratch. When you consider all that happened, I could have died, should have died several times in the last 10 years. Not a scratch, anywhere. That is remarkable.

Thank you for reading my story.

-Pultoy

-- -- --

Note from Pultoy: 

If you've read some of my stories, you know that I like heroes that have flaws, even fatal flaws. I also like bad guys that have good traits. I guess I like these things because that is how I see the world, full of good people who do bad things, and bad people who do good things. Many times neither is recognized and that is tragedy.

Spelling out plainly for those who will not see it, Bill thinks he got off without a scratch, but it should be obvious that he is well scratched emotionally, spiritually. He is stymied about why Brooke forsook him, he committed murder, and he'll never be the same. He's scratched all right.

In this story, Brooke wasn't really the focus so much as Bill. Tragedies are just that, tragedy. So, you may have thoughts that I didn't flesh out her character too well, it is on purpose.

Some, maybe many, will have sympathy with Marc, I imagine few will have much for Bill, even though the role of each is clearly defined as bad guy and hero, however flawed in their role they are. 

It's just a story, has never happened so far as I know. There probably are legal flaws here, medical flaws, perhaps the flaws have flaws.

Thank you, -Pultoy



Without a Sound Pt. 01



I had been riding the train for nearly an hour and the sun was just beginning to set over the horizon. It was a warm autumn night, and I stared out the window watching the small towns fly by as the shadows drew longer over the fields. I had just begun to doze off when the train pulled into the Waterloo station. As the couple next to me collected their belongings and made their way off the train, I kept my eyes closed, hoping to fall asleep and shorten my long ride. 

After a few moments I could hear someone nearby putting their bags in the over-head compartment. I opened my eyes and peeked over to see a woman stretching up to stow her luggage. She was wearing a knee-length black pencil skirt and black leggings. Her sweater crept up her stomach revealing a sliver of her toned stomach as she pushed her bags back. I turned my head back, closing my eyes before I was caught, and to my surprise she sat down next to me. I wondered what she looked like as I hadn't gotten a good look at her face, but I was too deep to go back now.

For the next ten minutes or so I kept my eyes closed, almost falling asleep again, though I didn't want to now. I looked over to her through half-closed eye-lids and was stunned by how pretty she was. She had short blonde hair, cropped just above her shoulders and a cute button nose. Her perky breasts were pushing against her white striped sweater. Her legs were crossed, pulling the skirt a few inches further up her thigh. She was reclined in her seat, and engrossed in her book.

I roused myself from my fake-sleep, and she turned. I smiled and she reciprocated warmly, dimples marking her cheeks as I excused myself past her to use the restroom. I washed my hands in the warm water, and splashed it on my face. I fixed my hair in the mirror, and returned to my seat. My leg brushed against hers as I passed to my seat. She didn't look up from her book, and I contemplated whether to hazard small talk with a reader (a pet peeve of mine). I decided to let her read in peace, taking a book from my own bag to hopefully spur interest.

I opened to my bookmark and started to read. About two paragraphs in, however, I realized I had no idea what I had just read. The smell of her soft perfume was making comprehension difficult. She shifted in her seat, as she flipped pages, crossing her other leg and turning towards me in the process. I tried to focus on my book, but found myself looking past the pages and down her shapely calf muscle.

I flipped a page to keep up appearances, as I inched my foot a little closer to hers. I was almost touching her foot, when she closed her book, holding the page with her finger before stretching. It took all of my willpower to not steal a glance, but I kept my eyes on the page absentmindedly reading the words. She re-opened her book, and I was startled to feel her foot touch mine. I could feel my heart beating a little faster as she kept her foot pressed lightly against mine. I forced myself to read the words, not wanting to read too much into it. I made it a few pages, before my curiosity got the better of me. With a sidewards glance I looked over at her book. I couldn't tell what book it was, but the page she was reading was most certainly a steamy excerpt. From what I could glean, it was an office tryst. I wanted to keep reading, but looked away fearing she might catch me.

My brain started to short-circuit as I imagined the beautiful woman sitting next to me, most likely aroused, and with her foot pressed against mine. Almost imperceptibly I nudged against her foot. I waited for a second, then a minute, then was surprised when she nudged my foot back. I turned another page, and set my hand on the arm rest, resting my fingers a few inches from her thigh. Thinking it too forward, I instead re-positioned myself toward her, feeling her dangling foot press softly against my calf. Immediately she brushed the back of my leg with her foot. I felt my heart jump, I loved the tension that was building so I stopped myself from looking over.

The sun had gone down by now, and the seats around us were all empty, save an older woman across the aisle a row ahead of us. I glanced over another paragraph before I noticed her thigh was tantalizingly close to my hand. I contemplated for a moment, before I grazed my pinky finger over her skirt. Without even looking up from her book, she drew the back of her foot up my calf to the back of my knee. I inched my hand a little closer, drawing feather-light circles over the fabric of her skirt with my ring and middle finger. I stole another peek at her book, and saw that she hadn't gotten much further. The bulge in my khakis was growing more noticeable at the thought of her wet lips just a few inches from my fingers. I pulled gently at her skirt, inching it slowly up her thigh. Without hesitation, she uncrossed her legs and casually flipped a page in her book. She held her knees together modestly, but made no effort to stop my fingers from bunching her skirt up her leg. My cock was rock hard now, clearly defined against my pants, and as I watched her leg out the side of my eye I caught her peeking.

Her skirt was nearly half-way up her thigh before I realized she wasn't wearing leggings, but stockings. The top seam was just barely exposed before the shape of the skirt made it difficult to hike it up any further. I walked my fingers down her thigh, still pretending to read as my fingers came to the top of her stocking. She slowly eased open her legs, the hem of her skirt tightening, slowly drawing up her thighs, until her bare skin flashed from under. My cock was so hard now, and my heart was beating in my throat. As my fingers teased closer to her tanned skin, she set her hand on the arm-rest, holding her book open with one hand. She squeezed the arm-rest, rubbing her hand shortly up and down it. I whisped my fingers between her thighs, feeling the electricity as they brushed over her bare skin. She twitched at the touch, and slid her hand under my arm lightly squeezing my thigh just below the tip of my cock. She rubbed her fingers up and down, still without as much as a glance over.

Her skirt was pulling tight into her skin, and she pushed her ass up off the seat and spread her legs wide until it was bunched around the bottom of her cheeks. I couldn't help but stare at her amazing legs, held tight by her stockings and garters. I looked away to keep up the act, but my fingers were now edging against the seam of her warm panties. She responded in kind, rubbing her hand agonizingly close to my dick.

She reached for my belt, and silently pulled it open, then popped open the button of my khaki's. She slid the zipper down quickly with a cough. And as she tugged open my pants, I cupped my hand against her pussy. I couldn't believe how incredibly wet she was. I had to take caution as I rubbed her lips to not make too much noise. She slid her hand under my boxer briefs and squeezed me tight between her fingers. I had to breathe, I was so turned on she could have made me pop with a few deft strokes.

I wanted to make her cum right there, but I knew I couldn't myself. I slipped my fingers under her lacy panties, cupping her pussy again, as I slid my fingers up her wet lips. I drew my fingers up to her clit and she squirmed under the touch. She pulled my dick out from under my briefs, and slid her hand up and down my stiff shaft until the head was wet with precum. I easily slipped two fingers into her tight slit, pushing them in deep, but slowly. I couldn't finger her fast, it would be too obvious. I slid my fingers in and out, glancing over to see her with her eyes closed, book still in hand, her arm fallen limp on the opposite arm rest. I set down my book, and reached across to squeeze her breast through her sweater. With my ear next to her I heard a soft moan escape her barely parted lips. 

I was glad she had lost the rhythm with my cock, and I focused on rubbing her swollen little clit. I rubbed the tips of my fingers around it, then held them close. Sliding circles over her warm wet bud until she was biting her lip and squeezing her thighs tight around my hand. I slid my hand quickly under her sweater and bra squeezing her stiff nipple in my fingers, as I softly kissed the back of her neck. As she started to get closer, she regained interest in my cock, squeezing it tight and jacking me off faster the nearer she got. I was terrified the woman a row away was going to turn around, but the sound of the train was just enough to keep off suspicion. I pressed my thumb into her nipple, deeply massaging her breast, as I heard slight whimpers escaping from her lips. I pulled my hand from under her sweater, and held it over her mouth, her legs jerked wide open and I could smell her sweet pussy. I rubbed her clit until she was right on the edge, her muffled moans had me so hard I thought I might not be able to stop from cumming with her. Just then her legs snapped closed and her hips bucked up into my hand. I held her mouth firmly as she slunk down in her seat shivering. 

I was impressed with how silent she was as she came, and so fucking turned on by watching her writhe in her seat. I had to fuck her, I needed so badly to bury my cock in her. Before she had regained any composure, I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her up onto her feet, leading her to the changing room at the back of the train-car. 

Part II coming soon.



Without a Word



The night air was hot and sticky, causing her dress to cling to every curve of her taut young flesh. Standing in front of the mirror, Alegra looked over her reflection, checking for imperfections which would be evident to her mystery lover. The light from the fireplace danced across the light fabric of her dress, and she could clearly see the outline of her hard nipples through the fabric. The electricity in the air caused her skin to tingle. Her lover would be here any moment and Alegra wanted perfection. 

She ran her hand along her flat stomach, savoring the feeling of her hands caressing the silk as it lay against her body. Every thought in her mind was on the man, the mystery man who was going to be with her tonight. They had talked late into the night, his voice touching her soul, arousing her to levels she had never before experienced. He whispered her name at night and she found that the sound of it lingered like a ghost through out her days. Each time the phone rang, she found her heart beat quickening, her nipples becoming hard and tight, and her arousal evident in the dampness that grew from deep inside of her. 

The man spoke of things he wanted to do to her, with her and have her do to him. He talked of things that Alegra had never before experienced and he urged her to vocalize her own fantasies and experiences. At 22 years old, Alegra's fantasies far outweighed her experiences and that seemed to spur the man's desires even further. He wanted her to be new and to be fresh, so that he could mould her into the perfect sexual vixen. She wanted someone who would teach her, guide her, someone who would show her pleasure and take her to new levels that she had never before experienced. The man was him. 

Hearing footsteps on the walkway, Alegra snapped out of her momentary dream and cautiously walked toward the door. Without waiting for him to knock, she opened the door and for the first time saw the face of the man who had haunted her dreams for months. He stepped inside, not uttering a word, and turned Alegra so that her back was towards him. He quickly surveyed the woman who stood before him. Her body was small, athletic, tight in all the right places. Her long dark hair hung loose around her shoulders and he brushed it aside so that he could see the length of her long, creamy neck. He pressed his lips softly to her hot flesh, and he felt her body quiver beneath his kiss. A quiet moan escaped her lips, and she leaned into his embrace, feeling his arousal pressing against her. 

He ran his tongue along the length of her neck, and nibbled softly on her ear. In the voice that caused her body to tingle her whispered, "No talking. No questions. This night is about pleasure. This night is about fantasy. Yours and mine. These are the rules."

With those words, he slid the thin straps of her dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Her body was beyond even his expectations, and he found that he was growing harder as he stood and watched the light dance off her naked skin. Alegra did not wear a bra or panties and when the dress had fallen to the floor, she had been stunned at the fact that so quickly she was naked in front of the stranger. Still facing away from him, the man let his fingers trace over the curves of her body, down her back, across her hips and down the soft curve of her perfect ass. From his pocket, he withdrew a long piece of silky black fabric and reached in front of him to secure it around her eyes. The fabric made the perfect blindfold, so that she would have no idea as to what kind of pleasure was coming next, and the inability to see would serve to enhance the sensitivity of her other senses. 

Feeling Alegra grow tense at the unexpected prop and hearing the beginning of a protest, he pressed his lips to her skin again, and whispered to her, "Relax. Enjoy this."

Her ran his hands down the front of her body, dancing his fingers from one hard nipple to the other. He led her away from the doorway and into the neighbouring room. He layed her down on the sofa and put some pillows under her head to make sure she was comfortable. Her body glistened with the faintest covering of sweat and he knew it was a combination of the heat and her arousal. He quickly took in the view of the front of her body. Her breasts were perfect. They were full, large, firm, and taut with youth. Her stomach was flat and had the faintest hint of a bikini tan line along her hips. Glancing down further, he saw that her pussy was perfectly smooth and glistening with her juices. His cock ached to be released from the confines of his jeans, but he set aside his own needs as he lowered his lips to kiss her hot skin again. 

He kissed across her neck, her collar bone, and the valley in between her breasts. He could hear her breath quickening, feel her writhing beneath him and he smiled to himself. He continued his oral exploration of her body and ran his tongue along the breasts that seemed to grow fulller beneath his eyes. Her nipples grew harder as he kissed the area all around them, careful to tease but not to touch the tender flesh. Alegra moaned loudly and pressed herself upwards, trying in vain to get his lips to touch her where she wanted, but keeping with his rule of not speaking. She ached to call out to him, to beg him to touch her, but at the same time she found the blindfold and the silence to be incredibly hot. 

He moved further down her body with his tongue, tasting her, savoring the soft, silky feeling of her flesh beneath his lips. He traced the indent of her belly button before moving further down, pleased that she spread her legs to allow him to move lower. He ran his tongue along her hip, the top of her thighs and into the valley between her legs. He could smell the sweet muskiness of her arousal and could see the wetness glistening on the outside of her pussy. He touched her softly with his finger and spread the lips open to give him full access to the center of her pleasure. 

He touched her clit with just the tip of his tongue and he heard her muffle a scream. Pressing his tongue firmly against the button, he began to lick her, feeling the velvety softness and tasting her with each stroke. She pushed herself up further, pressing herself against his tongue so that it was buried deep inside her pussy. Cautiously, he inserted his finger inside of her, pressing as deep as he could, feeling the tight wetness of her wrapping around it. Keeping his tongue pressed firmly on her clit, but not moving, he began to fuck her softly with his finger. He could feel her getting wetter with each thrust, feel her opening up to him, and feel her thrust her hips back against him. She pulled his head tighter against her with her hands, twisting her fingers in his hair. He slid another finger deep inside of her, faster, harder. Her hips were bucking wildly and she was moaning constantly as she grew closer to orgasm. 

Increasing his pace, the man began to lick her with frenzied speed, and Alegra felt the relieving first twinge of orgasm rocking through her body. Every inch of her body was on alert, seemingly on fire. Her orgasm was wild. With his fingers buried deep inside of her and his tongue lapping wildly on her clit, she bucked her hips forward to meet every thrust of his fingers. She pulled his head tighter to her as she climaxed and her juices drenched his fingers as he pulled them out of her tight pussy. 

Without warning, he took his soaked fingers and placed them against her lips. She sucked them furiously, taking them deep into her throat as if she were sucking his cock. She swirled her tongue along his skin and tasted herself on him. He leaned in and kissed her. Thier tongues tangled together, tasting her and each other as their lips met for the first time.

With the blindfold still in place, Alegra reached for him and pulled him to a standing position beside her. She located the buttons on his pants and opened them, desperately searching for his cock. Pulling his jeans and boxer briefs down, Alegra stood up beside him, and pressed her lips to his. Blindly she groped for his hardness and began to stroke him. Her tongue did not leave his mouth as she massaged his rock hard cock.

It was so big and hard, that he definitely outsized all of Alegra's past lovers. Her knees grew weak as she fantasized about having something so big buried deep inside of her, thrusting, pounding. Dropping to her knees in front of him, Alegra put her lips to the tip of his cock. She loved the feel of the head as he began to slide it into her mouth. He pressed the back of her head forward, thrusting himself deep inside her mouth and down her throat. Alega tightened her lips around his shaft and felt him thrusting in and out of her mouth. She flicked her tongue along the tip as he withdrew it from her mouth, and she moaned again. She longed to tell him how good her felt, how hot he made her and how much she wanted him to FUCK HER NOW! But instead, she remained quiet, fearful that if she did not continue to follow the man's rules that everything would end, and she would never experience the pleasures that they had talked about for so long. 

The man continued to plunge deep into her mouth, his cock touching the back of her throat with each thrust. She squeezed his ass from behind, loving the feeling of him in her mouth. He pumped at her wildly, her mouth hot and wet, wanting the release that was so close. Her tongue danced against the head of his cock, teasing him as he fucked her mouth, pleasing him with its softness. Unable to hold back any longer, he felt himself begin to cum. He shot load after load of the thick hot liquid into her inviting mouth. She sucked him harder, drinking down every ounce at it poured from his throbbing cock. 

He reached for her and pulled her back up to standing. She allowed him to turn her around and push her back onto the couch. Facing into the couch, she felt him place the stiff head of his cock into the slit of her pussy. Their juices mingled together as he pushed against her, feeling himself slide inch by inch into her from behind. Her pussy enveloped every inch of his cock, pulling him deeper inside of her. The man grabbed her hair from behind and pulled her head back softly. He nibbled at the soft skin of her neck as he thrust in and out, and she thrust herself back against him, feeling him deeper and deeper. 

Alegra moaned over and over again, louder with each thrust until her moans had changed to pure whimpers and screams of pleasure. She had never in life felt somoeone so big and hard inside of her. His cock inside of her tight pussy caused waves of pleasure to rock through her body. She came again as he fucked her. It was unexpected to her, as she had never had an orgasm before. This time it was different. She felt her pussy tighten further around him and her body was rocked with intense feeling. He felt her grow even more wet and he found himself moaning as he felt her cum. He slowed down to an almost torturous pace, sliding the full length of his cock almost all the way out of her, so that she was pressing herself backwards, craving him inside of her. It was almost a need at this point for both of them. She needed to feel him deep inside of her, needed the powerful release that he gave her over and over again. He needed to be deep inside of her, thrusting, pounding, giving in to the fantasies that they had been telling each other for what seemed like forever. 

The man knew that there was one more area that Alegra had been wanting to experiment with. Through thier conversations, he knew that she had other areas that she had always wanted to explore, and the annonymity of their conversation had given her the platform to relay these fantasies. Withdrawing his cock from her pussy, he moved her into position, and pressed the tip of it against the tight opening to her ass. His cock was soaked from her orgasm and he pressed it against her and began to slide it deep inside. At first she was so tight that he didnt think he would be able to get any of his cock into her, but after a couple of minutes of slow and steady pressing, she opened up to him. 

Alegra was lost in the sensations that were coursing through her body. Her pussy was so wet that she felt herself almost dripping. Her breasts were bouncing against the sofa, her nipples rock hard from the friction of the fabric against her tender flesh. Now, her ass was flilled with the man's cock, and she was experiencing feelings that she had never had before. Alegra allowed her hands to wander down her body to her pussy, where she began to softly rub her clit. The combination of the blindfold, the annonymous man fucking her, him pulling her head back with her hair and the feeling of a rock hard cock buried deep in her ass made Alegra feel like the so called "Bad Girl". She loved it!!

"OH MY GOD!! YOU FEEL SO GOOD! SO FUCKING GOOD!! " she screamed out. Unable to control herself any longer, Alegra bucked wildly against the man, forgetting the rules that had been put in place and drowning in the feelings that enveloped her body. She came again as she rubbed her swollen clit, the feeling coursing through her tits, her pussy and her ass. Her whole body was trembling as the climax rocked through her. She continued to scream with pleasure as the man increased his speed. She felt him grow bigger and harder, and knew that his release was going to happen soon. She needed to feel him cum, she needed to feel the hotness shooting deep inside of her. She wanted it. 

"I want you to cum," she whimpered. "I want you to cum in my ass. I want to feel you." She continued to coax him onwards, all thoughts of anything else gone from her mind as he continued to pump her harder and faster. With one last hard thrust she felt the hot stinkiness shooting deep inside of her. He continued to thrust at her from behind, his pace slowing as his own orgasm drained from inside of him. Pulling his cock out slowly, he turned her over so that he could look at her face.

The man kissed her deeply. He loved the feeling of her. He loved every inch of her. He thought of all of the conversations that they had about the things that they wanted to do to each other and with each other. The man knew that this was only the beginning. Now that he had finally had her, he knew that she would be willing to try everything that they had discussed. While continuing to kiss her, he undid the blindfold, and looked deep into her eyes. The sparks that shot between them were almost visible and she smiled at him. 

Alegra ran her hands along his neck and into his hair. She kissed him deeply again and moaned as he massaged her tongue with his.

"Can we do this again?" she asked softly. The man nodded.

"Are you going to tell me your name?" Alegra said, laughing at the fact that he had been inside of her in ways that no one else ever had and yet he was still almost a stranger to her. The man smiled slowly. 

"You broke the rules, " he said as he stood up to get dressed. "I guess you will have to wait until next time."



Without a Word



I ring the doorbell and wait. There is shuffling inside, and then nothing. Someone is examining me through the peephole. For no real reason, I nod at the door, confident it will open soon. And it does. Just a crack at first, to give her a better look at me. Then, in a reckless gesture, the door is wide open, and in front of me stands a woman of exquisite proportions. Her legs are sheathed in a pair of silk stockings, a lace garter belt decorates her waist, but there is nothing to conceal her gorgeous breasts or neatly shaved pussy. We exchange approving smiles. Without saying a word, she ushers me inside and closes the door. She looks earnestly into my eyes and then walks away, allowing me to admire her perfect ass as it kneads itself with each long-legged step. The sound of her high heels echo on the hardwood floors. I am compelled to follow. She leads me to a bedroom, where her husband waits for her to resume the greatest blowjob he's ever had.

I stand in the doorway a moment as she crawls onto the bed. Like a lioness she stalks him, brushing away the obstacles between her and her prey. Her husband nods a greeting at me and I nod back. He does not hide his relief at my appearance as well as his wife did. I'm probably not hiding my lust for his wife as much as I should. She's at his cock now, massaging his balls and stroking the shaft. She looks back at me one more time, as if to say, "Watch this," and then the entire shaft is down her throat. I hear a long exhale leak out of him like a dying breath. She sucks his cock voraciously, her pouty lips wrapped tight around the shaft, each swallow going its full length. 

I spy a comfy chair in the far corner of the room. I make for it, discarding my clothes like breadcrumbs along the way. I'm down to my jeans as I sit, and I notice her examining my bare torso out of the corner of her eye. I can tell she's impressed. Being the vain person I am, I tense my muscles to make them bulge a little more. I raise my legs, and in one motion slide my jeans off. Like a tailor presenting a finished garment, I lay out my waking cock for inspection. An eyebrow raises. She takes his cock out of her mouth long enough to catch her breath and shoot me an admiring smile. She slaps his pole against her cheek a few times before devouring it again.

An open bottle of wine rests on the nightstand next to me. They've thought of everything, it seems. I pour myself a glass and ease back into the chair. I'm in a stranger's penthouse, watching a beautiful woman suck her rich husband's cock, and all the while she is looking back at me. Is she imagining it's my cock in her mouth? The intensity of her stare seems to answer my question. I meet her gaze, the glass at my lips. My other hand finds its way down to my crotch. My pole is nearly hard, and it only takes a few strokes to bring it to full capacity. I thrust my pelvis forward so she can get a better view.

Her husband has his eyes shut and is grunting loudly. He must be getting close. She gives his cock a few last jerks before sitting up. I enjoy the view while it lasts, drinking in her perky breasts, her flat abdomen, her golden skin. She crawls to the headboard and holds on tight as her husband moves in behind her, positioning her ass just right. With two fingers, he spreads her pussy lips wide, giving me a glimpse of the pink mystery within. He plunges a finger inside. She's so wet, I hear it go in. She lets out a pent-up sigh as I stroke my cock faster. His fingers are done scouting. He grabs his tool and, shifting from knee to knee, stuffs it into her glistening box. She moans softly, ready to accept the onslaught, but he's just teasing her. He takes his purple cock out, and holding it with one hand, plunges it back in again. All the way out, then all the way in. He's showing off for me.

Finally he ends her torment. Like an animal on the Serengeti he hunches over her. I can see his ass muscles tighten and relax as he pumps her twat full of his manhood. I hear the air get sucked from between them each time her ass slaps against his body. Her moans are loud and long now. Between her arms I see her tits jingle back and forth with every thrust. I want to catch those precocious nipples in my mouth, put an end to their dancing, but that wasn't a part of the deal. I know my place. I keep stroking my cock. She looks over at me and licks her lips between moans. She has a pained expression on her face, but it's the right kind of hurt, the best feeling in the world.

He's pulled out and is shifting to a new position. They wind up in a reverse cowgirl at the edge of the bed, inches away from me. He's just a pair of legs to me now, but she towers over me in all her glory. I pour another glass of wine as I watch her pussy slide up and down the length of his shaft. Her tits bounce with every contortion, her hamstrings working hard to make it all happen. I can tell she's getting off performing for an audience. Their sex is a work of art, and all art needs someone to appreciate it. Her loud yelps and gyrations bring me close to climax many times, but I know when to back off. His hands reach up from behind her and pinch her nipples as she struggles to find breath. I am mesmerized by the wishbone outline of her pussy as it swallows his cock over and over again. Sweat flies like sparks from their bodies.

Finally I hear her husband reaching his peak. He throws her off onto the bed and stands up, tugging wildly at his cock, moaning like a man in trouble. That's my cue. I stand up as well, rubbing my tool faster than ever, aiming it at his panting wife on the bed. The timing couldn't be better. We cum on her simultaneously, dousing her gorgeous breasts and neck. She spreads the juices all over her tits, oohing at its volume. In a trance, she grabs her man's cock and rubs it some more, squeezing the last few drops out. And then, to my surprise and shock, she grabs mine as well. She looks up at me, still tugging at her husband, and slips my staff into her mouth, sucking it clean.

This wasn't the agreement. This wasn't the plan we had carefully laid out. It had taken a slew of e-mails, days of negotiation to get to this night. The rules they had set were clear: no talking, no touching. And now the husband was watching his wife lap at my manhood. I get weak in the knees. She's alternates between us, sucking one man's cock while jerking the other, until there is little life in us left. I look down at her adoringly. There is cum at the corner of her mouth. I wipe it away with my thumb. Then I do something I've been yearning to do since she opened the door. I lean in and kiss her. She hungrily accepts my advance, leaning back onto the bed, pulling me with her. We nibble at each others' lips like long-lost lovers. I can taste cum in my mouth, but I'm beyond caring. She is writhing beneath me in pleasure. I squeeze her tits with both hands and devour her nipples. My fingers blaze a trail down her abdomen and I listen to her breath quicken as I reach her clit. My mouth decides to follow...

Her husband joins us on the bed, resting his wife's head on his lap as I consume her. My tongue is sometimes quick, sometimes thorough, ironing out her soft folds, exploring every crevice between her legs. Her moans are sweet music to me. Her husband sips some wine and plays with her hair as I make her squirm. Eventually I zero in on her pleasure spot -- she lets me know in no uncertain terms -- and I keep at it, licking and fingering her until her wriggling has turned into full-blown seizures. It takes slightly less than forever, but I'm patient. She gasps and squeals her way to climax. And when it does come, it moves mountains.

She laughs, embarrassed by her own convulsions. But her timidity evaporates when I sit up straight. We all stare at my crotch. My cock is hard again, I'm stroking it like a pet tiger. She bites her lower lip. I have something she wants. She has something I want. Her husband grins in anticipation.

I spread her legs and bury my cock into her soaking wet pussy. My eyes roll back into my head, it feels so good. After a few long strokes, we're in a state of frenzy. I stay in deep, making sure she feels my thickness. Her head's still in her man's lap, but she's looking right up into my eyes, her teeth bared. Her moans sound more like growling now. She's a feral animal. My thrusts press her ass deep into the mattress. She mouths a voiceless scream, like a woman possessed. Well I'm the exorcist. My strong arms have her pinned down while my cock works furiously to drive out her demons. She raises her legs high and I grab onto them for leverage.

Her husband is up now. He is pouring wine into my mouth straight from the bottle as I bulldoze his wife. I gulp it down with an approving grunt. The red stuff streams from my mouth and down my chest. I must look like a vampire. He splashes some on his wife's bouncing tits and laps it up. The wine runs down her sweaty abdomen and pools in her belly button before reaching the place where we are conjoined. My cock is putting her red-stained labia through quite the test, stretching and compressing them as I pound her into submission.

But in the end it is I who must submit. Our jackhammer rhythm intensifies as the eruption approaches. I'm shuddering, I'm groaning, I'm losing my mind. She can feel my cock throbbing inside her as jets of hot jizz fill her. She sings out with me as I collapse to one side of her, panting hard. Her husband joins us on the other, wine bottle in hand. The sheets are soaked, and we're exhausted. The goddess is giving off contented sighs as she paws at her worshipers in a dream-state, a hand for each man. We return the favor, playing with her hair, caressing her beautiful body, sucking on her luscious nipples, kissing her willing lips.

I take one last sip of wine before getting dressed. From the bed they watch me, and I sense their gratitude. Without a word, I smile at her, shake the husband's hand, and I'm gone.



Without a Word



The story on Literotica had made me so horny that I had to send it to you. Copying the link into an email to you, I had a feeling that you would be impacted the same way. So, I wasn't too completely surprised when you knocked on my door about a half hour later.

But I was caught off guard when, without saying a word, you stepped across the threshold, pulling me to you, and kissing me passionately. I felt you slide your hand against my face to tangle your fingers in my hair while your arm snaked around my back pulling me to you. I sucked your bottom lip into my mouth, running my tongue along it as I wrapped one arm around you, and sliding the other hand to the back of your neck.

I groaned in frustration as your lips moved from mine, but pressed closer against you as your mouth worked over the column of my neck, your tongue hitting the sensitive areas that drive me crazy. I felt you sliding my shirt up my body and pulled back to whip it off over my head, tossing it to the floor next to where we stood before I helped you pull your shirt off. You pulled me back against you, your mouth finding mine, our tongues sliding against each other, and I felt your fingers deftly unclasp my bra. Between the two of us, we removed the offending piece of clothing from covering my breasts, not caring where it landed. 

I pressed against you, my breasts sensitive against your bare chest, running my hands down your sides to the waistband of your jeans. I hooked my fingers in two belt loops and moved backwards toward the bedroom, pulling you with me. We moved together, not separating, mouths traveling over each other's skin and returning to kiss deeply. 

A few steps into the living room, you stopped me, kissing down to my ample breasts, sucking a nipple into your mouth and flicking your tongue over it as you slid my yoga pants down over my hips and legs. I stepped out, standing against you in only my panties. On a groan, you pressed me against the wall, our mouths finding each other again. Sliding your hand down my leg, you gripped my thigh, pulling it up against you so that my leg wrapped around you. I moved my hips so that I could feel your erection through your jeans against my panty covered mound. I was sliding my hands down your body when you took my hands in yours and held them above my head. Encircling both my wrists in one hand against the wall, you held my arms in place as your other hand returned to its place holding my thigh against you. 

Held in place, I arched my back, pushing against you as I tightened my grip on your with my leg, grinding against you. Both of us breathless, I pulled back to catch my breath (unsuccessfully, I might add), as you took the opportunity to return your lips to the side of my neck, gently sucking and nibbling. I moaned, feeling your fingers sliding up my thigh to slide your fingers into my panties, lightly stroking the sensitive flesh. 

You suddenly released my arms and dropped to your knees, kissing your way down my body, peeling my panties from my body. I felt you press your lips against the lips of my pussy, and looked down at you. The unspoken communication between us was strong, and you stood, taking my hand to lead me back to the bedroom. At the foot of the bed, you turned to me, pulling me against you. My hands immediately went for the button of your jeans, working in a rush to get you as naked as I was. It was my turn to kiss down your body as I peeled his jeans and boxers from you, but your hands stilled me as I moved to take your hard cock into my mouth.

I looked up at you questioningly, as you pulled me back to my feet to press me down onto the bed. You just smiled, kissing me softly on my mouth as you worked your lips down my body, stopping to suck first one, then the other, nipple into your mouth, caressing my breasts with your fingers tips. I felt your other hand work down and slide between the lips of my pussy, playing in the wetness. I bucked my hips against your hand, moaning when you easily slid a finger inside me. I felt your thumb rub over my clit, eliciting another moan from my mouth. You continued to finger me as your mouth worked down, tongue dipping into my navel playfully, making me squirm as you tickled me. 

I felt the bed shift as you moved between my legs, pushing them apart. With one hand, you spread my labia, exposing my clit, as you fingered me with two fingers on your other hand. I moved my leg over your shoulder, sliding my hands down to your head as I felt your tongue meet my clit. I immediately arched off the bed as your tongue worked over my clit, your fingers twisting in and out of my pussy. My legs started shaking, and you closed your lips around my clit, sucking lightly as your tongue continued to work my clit. My hips lifted and I ground my pussy against your face, almost involuntarily. My hands were pressing against your head. I felt my muscles start to tighten and pressure building, and as your sucking increased in pressure along with the pace of your fingers twisting in and out of me, my body exploded into orgasm. 

I was craving the feel of you inside me, and pulled on your shoulders, trying to pull you up to me. You lifted your head, and I leaned forward to kiss you, tasting me on your lips. I pulled you against me, reaching down to stroke the length of your hardness. I shifted so that I could push you down on your back, kissing you deeply. I began kissing down your chest as I stroked your cock with both hands. I scooted down the bed so that I could run my tongue up the length of the underside of your cock, eliciting a groan. I took the head of your cock into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head as I continued to stroke the shaft with my hand. Sucking your cock deeply into my mouth, I began to move my head up and down on it, feeling you tangle your fingers in my hair. As your cock hardened even more and your hips thrust involuntarily, my craving to feel you inside me increased, and I leaned over to grab a condom from the nightstand table. I continued to suck on the head of your cock as I opened the packet. 

Removing the condom from the packet, I placed the tip between my lips and moved back to your cock, placing the condom over the head and working it down around the shaft with my lips, tongue, and hands. Once it was on, I moved back up your body and straddled you, holding your cock in place as I slid my pussy down over you. We both groaned as you filled me, and I started to move my hips so that you slid in and out of me slowly. You sat up, pulling me to you for another kiss, our arms wrapping against each other, as I rode up and down on your hard cock. 

Suddenly, I felt you shift, and found myself on my back with you over me. You took my hands, and pushed them over my head, holding them gently but firmly by one hand as you slid your arm under me at my waist. I arched against you, relishing the feel of your solid muscular body against mine, our tongues tangling and playing with each other as we kissed, and my legs wrapped around you. I locked my ankles together around your back as I lifted my hips against you, meeting you thrust for thrust. The feeling of your hard cock inside me was incredible, filling my tight pussy, rubbing against all of the right spots. 

You started to thrust more quickly and my hips worked against you to meet you thrust for thrust. I clenched the muscles of my pussy around your cock in time with the trusts. Your arm tightened around my waist, pulling me even tighter against you, and I felt your cock jerk inside me as you began to cum. Groaning into my shoulder and releasing my hands, I wrapped my arms around you as rode out your orgasm. 

We lay there for a moment, still wrapped up together, trying to get our bearings. You finally lifted your head and smiled and me. 

"Hi," you said.

I laughed. "What a greeting," I murmured lifting my head to kiss you. "If that's hello, I can only imagine what's next."



Without A Word Spoken



She wasn't sure if it was the humidity in the night air or the anticipation that caused it. But her skin was burning up and small beads of liquids ran down her neck in-between her full breasts.

Slowly her hand curled into a fist and she raised it to knock. Counting one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three, she looked and saw the door knob move.Her heart stopped. A million thoughts entered her head about how this could go. Her mouth wanted to scream out, but nothing came, she wanted to run, but her feet would not move. 

The door slowly opened. Her eyes rose to see the man standing in front of her softly illuminated by the moon shining in from the window behind him. 

Her mouth went dry as she looked over him. Her heart rate was speeding so fast her head felt light. She wanted to fall into his arms. Feel his strength overcome her. His entire presence radiated safety.

And then… He smiled.

She looked just as he'd imagined a million times. Her golden hair shone like a halo as the light from the hall lit it from behind.

In her eyes he saw her strength, behind that he saw her willingness to give it all over for him. The desire to be taken away and protected. 

Her lips parted delicately as if she was going to say something, but no words ever came. He couldn't take his eyes off them. So full and soft. He lifted his finger to run over them. Causing her mouth to open more as she whimpered uncontrollably. 

His hands reached under her shirt, running over her skin sending shivers through out her body. 

His eyes moved up and caught hers as his hands ran to her sides and pushed her shirt up over her body, brushing against her nipples causing them to stiffen through her lace bra. Raising her arms, he slowly slid her top off, her head pulled through and her hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders. Gently he reached circling around her nipples with his finger tips, scraping his nails softly over the lace, as she let out a small moan and her eyes closed. 

His hands encircled her waist, drawing her towards him as they slid her skirt down, letting it drop to the floor.

She leaned forward as his left hand tugged her thong up softly causing the material to push inside her. Leisurely sliding a finger from his right hand from her pussy up to her ass as her knees buckled, her juices soaking the scratchy material inside her. 

She felt his warm breath on her neck as His left arm held her strong and his finger ran back and forth over her slit and ass , scraping her swollen pussy lips, pinching them, pulling at them as the material worked itself in deeper into her.

He took his fingers and poked softly at her, pushing just the tip of his finger inside her with the thong, rubbing small circles right inside her. The friction almost unbearable she screamed, not caring who could be in the hall. He rubbed slow deliberate circles in her. His thumb pressing gently on the left side of her clit, tapping it softly she began to shudder and he pulled his hand away.

Turning her to face the wall, he ran his hands up her sides and raised her arms above her head. She dropped her head to the wall and he kicked her legs gently open with his feet. Taking her hips he pulled them back causing her to bend and her arms to slide down the wall. Her breasts fell out of her bra and hung gently slapping each other. 

He took his hand hooked it into her waistband and tugged it down over her ass, pausing to kiss softly over her smooth skin. Pushing the thong down, his hand reaching between her legs and running the entire length of her wet pussy opening her lips wide. He took his cock and guided it right to her entrance, pushing lightly, letting the tip hit her over and over. She bucked back into him, begging him with her body to fuck her, her juices pouring out over the head of His cock. He kept softly pushing allowing just the head inside her.

Leaning closer into her. He felt her body give and kissed her neck tenderly. The ache was building so fast her head was spinning and her breath short. His hands moved up her sides to reach in front of her cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples in between his thumb and fingers, tugging them gently, twisting. His cock pushing up , swelling inside caressing her walls, filling her completely.

He grabbed her hair pulling her head back slowly, leaning down to bite her neck. Her body shuttered , feeling her release close , as his teeth sank in deeper and he slammed his cock inside her as she screamed.

Clenching his hard cock deep in her pussy. Tightly squeezing while her body let go wave after wave over his cock. He kept pushing, touching the tip of his cock to her womb. Her head dropped against the wall and his hands slid down her back as her body slowly released him. 

He pulled back gently leaning to kiss her and reassure her. Turning her gently around to face him. 

Looking into her warm brown eyes he leaned to kiss her soft lips. Raising his hands to her shoulders gently pushing her down.

Her body slid with ease to kneel in front of him. She placed her hands on his thighs .Running her fingertips over his legs feeling the strength they had. 

Looking up taking her right hand she parted her lips, licking the entire palm of her right hand, wetting it. Taking his cock in her hand she slowly stroked it upwards, while her head dropped. Her lips found his balls kissing them softly over and over. Opening her mouth her tongue snaked out and circled his balls, gently lapping at them. She tipped her head back letting them fall onto her tongue sucking them caressing them with her tongue and lips.

His hand ran up her neck under her hair, making a fist into it. Pulling at her head, she softly let his balls drop out of her mouth onto her breasts, resting there. As her tongue slid up the entire length of his cock. Over the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock. Reaching the head her tongue circled under the rim, moaning her hot breath covering the tip of his cock. 

Reaching behind him her nails drug up the back of his legs.

He pulled at her again and her mouth found its way over the tip of his cock, looking down at the precum, building at the small slit. Her tongue fell out her mouth lapping gently at the white cream Moaning she pressed her lips down over it.

He gazed down, seeing her mouth form a perfect o around his cock, her head lit by the small amount of moonlight and the yellow light from the hall. 

All he could hear was the soft slurping her mouth made over his cock, sucking noises and her own moans of intense pleasure. Never thinking to notice one person who might be walking by. 

His hips began to rock, as he pushed deeper into her throat, hitting the back of it. She relaxed her muscles as much as she could, taking him into her, swallowing his length deeply. She moaned and her hands reached around his front and gently caressed his balls. Squeezing them softly as her mouth sucked tightly. 

His hips moving harder almost to the point of bruising her lips he was pushing harder and harder. She tightened her lips around him as he fucked her mouth. Beginning to shake she clenched tighter as he unloaded stream after stream of his seed into her waiting throat, 

Her mouth never leaving his cock, she sucked cleaning him gently, until there was no trace of cum anywhere on him. 

His grip loosened in her hair and his body relaxed slowly. She gently cleaned him like a little kitten. Small soft licks.

Smiling down at her, he leaned over and scooped her up, carrying her to the bed. Softly laying her down, he crawled beside her. Drawing her in his arms, lying on his chest. He watched his angel fall sleep. 

He was awaked with the sun beating down on his tired body. Opening his eyes he turned his head to look at her, she was gone. 

Without a word spoken.



Without Consent - A Hinglish Story



Prema arrived home from shopping to find the house empty. It was a nice break from her normal days with two kids and her husband Jugal waiting for her. Married for 15 years, Prema enjoyed a pretty routine life with husband, kids, and school. She frequently thought about talking with Jugal about doing something spontaneous, something exciting. But, Prema never found the courage. She and Jugal were married fifteen years ago.

Prema was a virgin, and although Jugal was patient with her sexually, their sex was as routine as the rest of their lives. Jugal attempted to spice things up and sometimes asked Prema to dress sexy or to go braless, but Prema was self-conscious about her body. At five feet five inches tall, at 30 years of age, Prema felt that the two children took a toll on her young body.

Although Jugal disagreed, Prema felt her 34C mummey sagged and her tummy show the results of being stretched to bear two children and her ass was not as firm as when they married. Being self-conscious about this appearance prevented Prema from being adventurous outside the bedroom. Even though Prema was a virgin when she and Jugal met, she had progressed to making love doggy-style, which Jugal seemed to enjoy. Prema also sucked Jugal off occasionally, but even after 10 years, she still refused to swallow his semen.

It was a collection of all these thoughts that prompted Prema to go shopping that afternoon. Now in their bedroom, Prema took the red matching bra and bikini panties she purchased and short nighty out and stripped out of her salwar and kameej. Prema looked in the mirror and her naked body.

She pushed her mummey upwards and rubbed her hand across her stomach and sighed, but was determined to try and be a bit sexier for Jugal this weekend. Prema thought about shaving her jhaant, Jugal also hinted he would like that, but she decided against it and walked over and slipped into the panties and bra.

Prema looked again in the mirror. The bra pushed her 34C mummey upward making them look larger. Prema liked that and raised the nighty over her head and pulled it down. The dress fell just above her knees and two thin straps held up the scoop neck. Prema frowned as she looked in the mirror and saw the tops of her mummey exposed.

Lalit knocked twice and heard no one so he entered the house to find Jugal. Lalit was about 40 years old and he and Jugal were good friends, "drinking buddies" from the club. Jugal was to meet him at the house so the two could go out together. Lalit was a large man, over 6 feet. Even though they had known each other for five years, Lalit never met Jugal at the house before.

He hoped Jugal's wife, Prema was home. When Jugal would bring Prema to the club, Lalit always drooled at the prospect of having his way with her. He even mentioned to Jugal once that he though Prema was a real looker. Lalit walked quietly through the house searching for Jugal when he heard footprints from a room.

Lalit walked quietly and saw the bedroom door partially opened. He pushed it aside and saw Prema in the bright red nighty, bent at the waist, looking into the closet.

"Wahh, kya gaand hai!" Lalit thought and he decided he would have her right now.

Prema was looking for some thing in the closet when she felt as if someone was watching her. Prema quickly turned around to see the man standing in her bedroom door.

"Kaun ho tum aur yahan kya kar rahe ho?" Prema screamed.

Lalit thought carefully and decided he had to have this woman.

"Main Jugal ka dost hoon aur woh yahan kuchh der tak aane wala nahi hai. Kyon nahi kuchh lutf le liya jaaye?" Lalit replied.

"Kya bakwaas kar rahe ho? Nikal jaao yahan se abhi ke abhi," Prema yelled at the man. She was frightened now. The man was huge and could easily over-power her. Prema tried to put on her best stern face as she ordered Lalit to leave.

"Jaaunga to sahi lekin abhi nahi. Waise tum iss nighty mein gazab ki sexy lag rahi ho," Lalit commented and pushed the bedroom door closed and started walking toward Prema.

Prema continued to yell at the man to get out of her house. She threatened that Jugal would be home soon but the large man continued to come toward her. When Prema realized he was not going to stop, she tried to run past him.

Lalit reached out with his meaty hands and grabbed at handful of Prema's shoulder length hair and jerked her into his arms. Prema started to scream with Lalit clamped his large hand over her nose and mouth. Prema struggled and tried to break free but Lalit was too strong for her. In addition, the way his hand was over her nose and mouth, Prema could not breathe. Finally she stopped struggling.

"Dekho, jaisa main kahta hoon waisa karogi to tumhe koyi takleef nahi hogi," Lalit instructed, "Main kewal tumhare chutad ko sahlana chahta hoon aur kuchh nahi."

With those words, Prema tensed as she felt fingers creeping up the inside of her thighs pushing the hem of her nighty upward.

"Tum kya samajhte ho apne aap ko? Tum kuchh bhi kahoge aur main woh sab kuchh karoongi," Lalit ordered.

Prema looked down and her nighty was pushed up to the top of her thigh and Lalit's hand was between her legs just inches from her choot. Prema was terrified and nodded she would cooperate. Lalit released his hand and spun Prema around onto the bed in a sitting position.

"Tumhara irada kya hai? Kya chahte ho tum?" Prema asked hesitantly.

"Main kuchh nahi karoonga. Karna tumhe hai. Bus apni nighty utaaro, dheere-dheere. Nahin to...." Lalit ordered.

Inside Lalit was trying not to laugh at the frightened woman. He was not going to harm her at all. After all, Prema was Jugal's wife. He just wanted to scare her into allowing him to fuck her. Lalit pulled the chair from Prema's dressing table over in front of Prema and sat down, waiting for the show.

Prema could not believe what was happening. She begged Lalit and reminded him that Jugal would be home any minute. Lalit was growing inpatient at the stalling and stood up and started toward Prema.

"Theek hai, theek hai," Prema muttered afraid that Lalit would hurt her or worse she reached for the hem of her dress. "Tum mujh jaisi do-do bachchon ki maa ko nanga kyon dekhna chahte ho?" Prema asked as she pulled the dress over her head and threw it onto the floor.

"Tumhe nahi maloom kit um kitni sexy ho. Tumhare badan se kahin bhi nahi lagta kit um do bachchon ko janam de chuki ho. Lekin mujhe kewal tumhe nanga hi dekhna nahi hai," Lalit told her, "ab baaki bhi utaaro."

Prema turned around and bit her lower lip trying to fight back the tears. No one except Jugal ever saw her naked and now this stranger was going to force her to strip herself. Prema tried to decide which she would be less embarrassed to expose first and decided on her panties. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband with her back still to Lalit. Slowly, Prema pulled her panties down bending at the waist as she pushed them to her ankles.

"Ohh.. kya chutad hai tumhare... kaise maan loon kit um do-do bachchon ki maa ho," Lalit commented, "apni panties ko apne ghutne tak hi rakho aur apni choli ko nikaalo."

Prema reached behind herself and unclasped the new bra and let it fall to the floor. Instinctively Prema covered her mummey with her hands even though she still was turned with her back to Lalit.

"Thoda ghumo," Lalit ordered.

Prema started to step out of her panties and Lalit shouted for her to leave them around her ankles. Slowly, Prema started to turn around, hands still hiding her 34C mummey flat against her chest.

Finally, Prema was facing Lalit. She could see the bulge behind his zipper where he was sitting in the chair. Thoughts of being balatkaar raced through Prema's mind. No one but Jugal ever had sex with her. As she stared at Lalit's crotch Prema realized that he was not only a big man, but also his lund was much larger that Jugal's six inches. Lalit took note of where Prema was staring and inside knew she was curious.

"Tum jhaante nahi banati. Khair baad me isko saaf kar denge hum dono," Lalit said, "Aur yeh apne haath hatao apne mummo se. Dekhne do kaise lagte hai tumhare yeh mummey."

Prema was appalled. No one talked to her like she was common. The vulgar words stung her ears and she shook her head "nahin."

"Nahin, ab main aur nahi kar sakti. Chhodo mujhe, please," Prema yelled trying to act tough.

Lalit got up from the chair and walked directly up to Prema, grabbed her arms at the wrist and jerked them down to her side exposing her mummey. Prema tried to free herself, but Lalit was too strong.

"Agar main jaisa kahta hoon waisa nahi karogi to bahut jyaada bhugtna padega tujhe. Samajhi," Lalit told her and stepped away releasing Prema.

Prema immediately put her hands back over her mummey and started to run toward the door. She forgot about the panties bunched around her ankles. Prema never got more than two steps before she fell flat onto her front side. Before she could get to her feet, Lalit grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled Prema to her feet. Prema took hold of his hand and screamed as he threw her across the bed. Before Prema could recover, Lalit yanked his belt off and brought it down hard across Prema's gaand.

"Nahinnn," Prema yelled and put her hands over her gaand.

Lalit rained down five consecutive blows across Prema's lower back, the backs of her thighs, and her gaand. Prema was soon begged Lalit to stop.

"Theek hai, agar aisa nahi chahti ho to apne ghutne per khadi ho jao aur apni dono jhangho ko chauda karo," Lalit yelled short of breathe from the whipping he delivered.

Prema was sobbing as she got on her hands and knees on the bed. She tried to spread her legs, but the damn panties prevented her from getting them to far apart. She started to remove them again, but Lalit ordered Prema to leave them. Prema looked over at the mirror on the wall she used earlier to see how she looked in the new nighty and couldn't pull her eyes from the sight.

Prema saw herself on her hands and knees, red panties wadded around her ankles, her mummey hanging down from her body and red welts across her gaand. In the mirror Prema could see Lalit removing his pants and underwear. Prema saw his hathiyaar spring straight out. She knew now he intended to rape her. As she saw his erect lund Prema realized it was twice as big as Jugal's and her humiliation turned to fear and she felt Lalit's hand on her back.

"Kya karne jaa rahe ho tum?" Prema pleaded as Lalit pushed her head down into the bed along with her shoulders.

"Thodi madad karo meri," Lalit informed Prema. "Apne haath peechhe karke apne dono chutad ko failao taaki main tumhe chod sakoon."

Prema pleaded and begged for Lalit to stop, not to go through with it. She felt the weight on the bed and increased her pleading. Prema let out a scream with she felt the tongue between her choot lips.

"Nahi karo, please, ruk jao, please," Prema pleaded as she tried to reach back and push his head away.

Lalit stuck his tongue between Prema's choot lips and started to taste her sweetness. He ran his tongue up and down her dry hole trying to bring the moisture. Prema's pleads were softening as Lalit found her choot-dana and started swirling his tongue around it. Lalit felt a sense of satisfaction as he felt the choot-dana growing larger in response to the stimulation.

Prema buried her face into the pillow. As she felt the moisture grow in her choot, Prema could not believe her body was betraying her. Prema felt the bed moving again and then fingers grabbing her choot lips and pulling them wide apart. Then Lalit stuck his tongue deep inside her choot.

Lalit was tongue fucking her while alternating licking her choot-dana. Her respirations increased along with her heart rate. She felt her body responding and was sickened by the thought of someone else fucking her besides Jugal. She started to beg Lalit to stop again is she felt her juices flowing freely now down the inside of her thighs.

"Ab tumhari choot chudne ko tyaar lagti hai," Lalit observed.

The jeebh-chodan stopped and Prema breathed a sign of relief. She could not believe she almost experienced an orgasm. Prema reminded herself that Lalit was raping her. Suddenly she heard a loud "whack" and felt the pain in her gaand.

"Ab apne haath peechhe le kar apne dono chutad ko failao jaisa maine kaha tha," Lalit ordered, "nahi to lagoon phir se belt ki."

Prema started sobbing again and as if a robot reached behind herself and took her chutads in each hand and pulled them in opposite directions. Prema sucked in quickly as she felt the cool air hit her exposed choot and gaand. She braced herself when she felt the head of Lalit's lund at her choot opening.

Without warning or concerned for her, Lalit drove his lund into Prema's choot until his balls slapped against her. Prema yelped and released her gaand closing her choot around the moosal lund. She grabbed the pillow with her hands and squeezed with all her might trying not to scream out. Prema's choot felt like it was splitting open as she tried to accommodate the mota-lamba lund.

Lalit waited. The warm, wet walls of Prema's choot felt so good wrapped around his lund.

"Badi kasi huyi choot hai teri," Lalit mused to himself and slowly pulled almost his entire lund out of Prema's choot before slamming it back in.

Lalit started to quicken his pace. Ramming his lund in and out of Prema's choot with a fury. The jeebh-chodan he had given her left Prema's choot slick with her own juices. Prema grunted with the weight of Lalit's body slamming into her. Her knuckles were white where she grasped the pillow so tightly.

Prema tried to shut out the sound of Lalit grunting and the slurping, wet sounds of his lund now easily sliding in and out of her widened choot. Lalit slowed the pace a little, pulling his lund almost all the way out and then slowly sliding it all the back in. He reached around underneath Prema with his free hand and found Prema now rock-hard choot-dana. Lalit took Prema's choot-dana between his thumb and forefinger and slowly rolled it around and around.

Prema felt the sparks course through her body when Lalit started massaging her choot-dana. The discomfort in her choot was giving away to pleasure and the constant attention to her clit was more than Prema could bear. As she approached orgasm Prema kept telling herself that she was being raped and she could have an orgasm.

"Ahhhhh ...!" Prema screamed as the orgasm shot through her body causing her to rock her chutads back to meet Lalit's thrust.

Lalit felt Prema's choot walls tighten against his lund and purposely quickened his pace while he pinched hard on her choot-dana. Prema threw her head up and moaned, eyes closed as the orgasm crescendo over and over again. She thought she was going to explode or go insane if Lalit did not stop.

"Please, please, ab sahan nahi ho raha hai, ruk jao, please," Prema begged.

Lalit was waiting for that request. He quickly removed his lund from Prema's choot and she collapsed onto the bed.

Jugal arrived home late and wondered where Lalit was at. He thought he would be waiting for him. As Jugal entered the living room he heard Prema moaning from bedroom. Jugal knew Prema did not masturbate, but it sure sounded as if she was having sex. Jugal slowly walked and could hear the obvious sound of two people fucking coming from their bedroom.

Jugal stood outside the door and slowly pushed it open, just a crack. He looked in fascination at his wife lying on the bed, body twitching, and Lalit kneeling between her legs. Jugal saw the red panties around Prema's ankles and the nighty and bra on the floor. He started to enter the room and demand an explanation when Lalit took Prema's chutads and pulled her upward so that Prema's gaand stuck high in the air.

Jugal waited and watched fascinated as Lalit inserted three fingers into Prema's choot. Prema moaned but offered no resistance. Jugal felt his lund jump to life at the site of his wife splayed lewdly across the bed with Lalit's lund pointing straight at her gaand. Finally Jugal heard Prema begging.

"Aur nahi, please, aur nahi," Prema said weakly.

Lalit smeared her juices into her gaand. Prema was spent from her orgasm and she never even considered what Lalit was preparing her for. Lalit lined his lund up at the entrance to Prema's tight gaand. He placed his hands on her chutads to hold her in place and started pushing.

Prema jumped and twisted trying to escape the sudden pain she felt in her gaand. When she realized what Lalit was doing, Prema started to protest loudly. Watching from the door, Jugal now knew that Prema was not a willing participant. He would have stopped Lalit, but his lund was hard and he wanted to fuck her himself so he waited.

Lalit pushed his chutads forward trying to force his lund passed the tight ring of Prema's gaand. He held Prema tightly and thrust forward and about one inch slipped into her gaand. Now Prema started to twist and fight more than she ever had before.

"Nahinnnn... dukh raha hai, bahut bada hai tumhara, nikalo wahan se, not there, please," Prema pleaded and tried to twist away.

Lalit and Prema jerked their heads toward the door simultaneously as Jugal came into the room.

"Bachao mujhe, please," Prema pleaded with Jugal.

"Hey, Jugal, maza aa raha hai tumhari bibi ko," Lalit tried to explain, not removing the one inch of lund from her gaand.

"Waisi position mein hi raho, Lalit," Jugal said to Lalit, "main bhi aa raha hoon."

"Kya.......!?!?" Prema screamed as Jugal removed his pants and underwear and got at the head of their bed.

Jugal took a handful of Prema's hair and yanked her head back. Prema's scream was cut short as Jugal shoved his lund into her mouth and down her throat. Prema had never deep-throated Jugal and tried to push him away from her head. Just then, Lalit, with a wide grin, shoved two more inches into Prema's gaand. Prema stopped fighting Jugal and turned her attention back to Lalit.

Prema tried to get her hands around her gaand and push Lalit away. The pain was incredible, worse than in her choot. Prema was trying to concentrate on breathing with Jugal's lund in her mouth and deal with the searing pain in her gaand. Just when Prema thought she could not take anymore, Jugal reached under her chest and seized her mummey in his hands and started squeezing. Lalit waited, felt Prema relax her gaand in response to Jugal's attention, and he shoved hard driving the reminder of his lund into her gaand.

Prema's gaand-ka-chhed looked like a thin rubber band encircling Lalit's lund. Lalit looked at Jugal who was smiling. Lalit nodded and he and Jugal started a rhythm. Jugal pulled his lund slightly out of Prema's mouth and when he pushed it back in Lalit pulled partially out of her gaand. While Jugal fucked Prema's mouth, his hands milked at her mummey, pulling them downward and then pinching her chuchis. Lalit ran his hand back under Prema and resumed his attention to her choot-dana.

Prema was being assaulted in so many ways she could keep track. She was confused at Jugal's behavior and yet, she was strangely excited at the thought of being fucked by two men. As Lalit fucked her gaand, Prema tried to relax.

Prema decided that if she could get both men to cum, her ordeal would be over. She knew Jugal would not cum in her mouth so she started to use her tongue to tease and tantalize his lund as he mukh-chudai her. Between those actions, Prema squeezed her gaand together tightening her colon around Lalit's lund. Jugal and Lalit quickened their pace in response to Prema seemingly willing participating.

While Prema concentrated on the two men, the attention to her mummey and choot-dana was having the desired affect. Never in her life had Prema experienced two orgasms, so she was shocked that she felt the tinges beginning. Prema started rocking her chutads backwards as the pain in her gaand turned to a weird, dirty pleasure. Prema continued to lap at Jugal's lund and felt it growing. She knew he was going to pull it out any minute. But instead, Jugal pulled her head into his groin and Prema felt the first squirt of cum hit the back of her throat. She tried to pull her head away while spitting out the salty fluid, but without success as another blob hit her throat again.




Without Form and Void



Chapter One: Individuating 

His mind is a clutter of thoughts. 

Did I get that e-mail? I don't have any coffee. John? Was his name John? Sweet smile, nasty attitude. Is it getting hotter? I can't run like I used to. Does Carolyn think I'm gay? My feet hurt. I've got to lose five pounds. My mother would hate me if she knew. I miss Butch, he was such a good dog. 

And on and on. All these thoughts pounding in his brain as he passes me. I plow through them, trying to isolate those themes and ideas that make up this individual and also to identify his likes and preferences from which I can build the identity I will wear in his presence. 

For four days I have observed him, each day gathering images, feelings, and thoughts. From this input my physical form has evolved. Tall, but not too tall. Strong, even buff, but not a muscle-head. Sweet smile. I need to attract him, to gain his confidence. My abilities to see into his mind diminish as I gain physical reality. I already feel the loss of connectedness. Time now has sway over me and I see things as past, present, future. And yet the sensations I am newly aware of from my still solidifying body are fascinating. I feel the strength of my limbs. I smell the trees of the park, the fumes of the passing automobiles. I see the sparkle of the sun on the river. Creation is glorious, and yet I still yearn for the bliss of non-being, still able to feel that deep inside this body, knowing it is my reward, my true existence. 

With the gathering of my physical abilities, I lose my insight into his thoughts. I will retain the ability to know his feelings and this journal will be the record of my project. 

 Chapter Two: Without form and void 

Earth, an ever fascinating instance of existence. Endless energies - both positive and negative - emit far beyond the reasonable reach of so small a place. Little wonder that it is again the focus of a study of manifested life requiring physicality, to separate a being away from the reality of oneness. It is only through experiencing life that connection to all creation is appreciated, that energy is renewed and creation expands. 

Often through the ages, the questions have been posed of why man exists, why he has evolved apart from other life forms, why Earth - abundant with life - came into being. What underlies Creation? Why does God, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, why does God require Man? 

Man is aware of his central role in the world, but despite ages of philosophy and religion, countless theories and beliefs, Man cannot explain it. Yet he senses in moments of quiet or great awe that he and all of creation are not a statistical happenstance. There is a purpose and meaning to his existence. 

Life, with Man at its center, is the engine of the universe, the energy source of God. Planets, stars, black holes, quarks and all the other imaginings of physicists and mathematicians are simply the stage upon which life acts out its dramas that are the true source of energy - not light energy, heat energy, atomic energy - but life energy - the purpose of it all. Life energy returns to God his essence, the essence that is creation. Without God, life has no meaning. Without life, God has no existence. It is through this cycle that meaning is achieved. 

To experience life as it appears on Earth requires a separation from the Whole, a recognition of time and space, a process called individuating, to realize distinction away from the Whole. It is the objective to experience life in order to share that energy with the Whole that those who are not connected may realize the greater, truer existence that lies within them. 

The individuated instance that I am becoming has a dim echo of a recollection of a life apart, a specific existence like those to be studied that had been my own existence on Earth set aside at my body's death. The process of individuating has many steps. This is distinct from the unique instance of human reproduction, taking on aspects of the world consciously while preserving an awareness of the Whole in order to communicate the findings of the study. Upon my return to the Whole, my experiences and recollections will be a resource for the essence of life itself in the continual dialog between God and Existance. 

An assembly of beings participate in the research. An initial crew establishes a base of operations, obtaining a secure location, gathering the outward objects common to life on Earth and basic information on how life is conducted. These will serve as an outward cloak, allowing me to observe as one with my subjects. 

 Chapter Three: Mixed Feelings - Brad 

The sun is at my back as I lean upon the railing separating the esplanade from the river. I feel its warmth yet am aware of the light passing through my yet forming body. My shadow is less distinct than the shadow of the tree a few feet away, and yet, I do have a shadow. I am waiting for him at this place, to enter into his awareness, gently, slowly. 

After these weeks - time has again become relevant to me - I can isolate his feelings from those projected by the millions of humans on the Earth. I can draw my attention to him alone, even as his feelings reflect those around him, when his feelings are in concert with others, even as he sleeps. The ongoing jumble of his thoughts directs and influences his feelings, his mind never at rest, no feeling pure of itself. So complicated are these humans. All seeking more, not realizing that all can be had, connection can be realized, by releasing the mind. It is so difficult for humans. 

I felt him as he awoke, his last moments of sleep a confusion of hunger, anxiety and dream-driven arousal. The jarring must have been caused by his alarm clock, followed by fear of being late, boredom with routine. Anger flared when he stubbed his toe on the way to the bathroom. He searches his image in the mirror for flaws, finding them when anyone else would see his handsomeness. A small satisfaction as he steps onto the scale, a few pounds lighter. Relief as he urinates. A familiar, reassuring sense of self as he tugs his balls, stretches his cock. 

And pervading all these physical feelings, a sadness. Why bother shaping up? Who cares what I do, what I look like, what I want? Despair. Slowly emerges the will to give it another day, a tiny optimism that today might be different. 

He comes into my range of sight, still pushing against ennui, not yet in stride, but his steps find a rhythm, his feelings focus. Coolness of the morning air, bright light and dark shadows along the path before him. A good feeling of choosing to be in the world. 

His steps cross my partial shadow. He glances toward me. Instant flashes of fear and wonder. Curiosity as he glimpses my silhouette. A hint of arousal, a moment later shame. He doesn't break stride and yet part of his awareness stays on me. Then sadness over a moment lost. A few more strides and his mind surrenders to the noise of daily cares. 

Through his day, tricks of light and shadow bring back my image, however faintly. Tomorrow I will have completed my individuation. Tomorrow I will enter his reality. Tomorrow he will be ready - I hope. 

*** 

He feels good this morning. Why? I don't know, perhaps connection informs his feelings, anticipating my intention. I await him, fully realized in the human form I have assembled from his thoughts. I stretch against a bench in the manner of other runners. He comes jogging along the path, hearing the birds, smelling the air. Then a burst of attraction. A warming desire. Then a flood of shame and creeping fear. I raise my face to him and smile. He stops. All his emotions tumbling, his mind shouting caution, his heart quickening, his desire waking. 

"Hi, great day to run" I break into his emotional swirl. 

"Uh yeah" desire, shame, hope, he responds. Discomfort and fear rise. He toes the ground, glancing at me from under his brows. Desire, shame. Courage? 

"I love running on mornings like this. I can get out of my head sometimes, for a bit." 

"Mmmm" I agree. 

"I haven't seen you around. You new here? I can tell by looking at you that you work out." 

"I just arrived in the area. And, yes, I enjoy the feeling of being in this body." 

"I don't know how you'll take this, but could I ask you a personal question?" Fear, shame, hope. 

"Sure" I encourage. 

"Do you want to join me for a health shake? We can finish our run and head to my place." Brazenness and relief, fear. 

"Sure" I affirm. "I'm Angelo." I reach out my hand. 

"Brad" he takes my hand, our first physical connection. I grip his hand tightly drawing him toward me. Caution causes him to resist, yet I feel his want of more touch. I pat his back with my other hand wanting to hug him, feeling my own caution of invading his space and adding threat to this first meeting. 

Brad laughs shyly. "Let's go" he encourages, anticipation of being alone and small shock at his brazenness and increasing desire. We jog along the path. I steal a glance at Brad only to be met by his eyes glancing at me. Again the shy laugh. 

Our steps fall into rhythm. In the extreme, humans demonstrate connectedness to each other in military marching. Even a random group of strangers will fall into step, evidence of an unconscious connection. Running step for step with Brad reinforces our growing connection. 

Brad turns from the path and heads toward a row of large houses. He leads to an open stairway in the back of one, then up to the third and top floor. He unlocks the door, and gestures for me to enter. "Here it is" he announces. He heads toward a small kitchen, opens the fridge and removes several items, the beginning of making the health shakes. 

I am drawn across the room to a wide bay window overlooking the river and path where we had just had our run. The sun streams into the room. I am caught up in the view of the river, park and city beyond. Even this random slice of creation is beautiful. I hear the whir of a blender and with wonder contemplate the endless inventiveness of Man. Man the problem solver. Man who imagines a life without work or effort and fabricates ever more complex devices and technologies to achieve what can only be achieved by releasing. 

I feel Brad's hand gently on my shoulder. I turn and he offers me the shake. It smells of banana and berries - ancient recollections for me. "Here you go." Brad smilingly taps our glasses then bolts his drink. "It is a nice view. The house is old, the apartment is too small, but it is a nice view." I nod agreement, still finishing my shake. 

I feel Brad's awkwardness as he gropes his mind for something to say. I smile, trying to project my eagerness to hear him, to accept any comment. 

Brad toes the carpet nervously but finds a rising courage. "Uh, this may sound crazy and maybe too forward, but hell, here goes. From the first moment I saw you, I wanted to kiss you." Brad winces and retreats a step, expecting a blow. 

"Nothing would please me more" I reply simply. 

"Oh thank God" Brad erupts. "I was so sure you were straight, but hoped against hope. I thought I felt something and when you agreed to come over..." I cut off his speech with a kiss, not a small peck on the cheek, but a full blown, mouth-crushing, tongue-probing kiss. I crushed him to my chest and felt his mind empty to the sensations of the kiss. Desire overwhelmed him and to significant degree overwhelmed me. We shared the same feeling, this is what it is to be alive. 

With regret, and the need to breathe, I released the kiss, still holding Brad fearing he would fall. He regained his balance, but still clung to me. His feelings danced across the spectrum of lust, vulnerability, desire for more, and fear of rejection. Then anxiety rose up to push away all others. "I've got to get to work". He deflated as he spoke. "I've got a meeting at nine and can't be late. Dammit." Then peering at me from under fearful brows, "Can we meet up later?" I could feel his rising panic and pulsing desire. 

"How about for dinner?" Relief flooded Brad's being. "I'd like to see where this goes." Brad's emotions danced along again. 

"We could meet up somewhere?" Brad suggested. 

"How about we stay in?" 

"Oh, that would be great. But I don't have anything here and I may be late and..." 

"I'll pick up a few things we can make quickly. I'd like to get to know you away from the crowds." 

Brad's emotions raced, with hope and desire struggling for primacy. "Six?" 

"Six it is" I confirmed and turned to go. 

"Angelo" Brad called after me. "That was some kiss." 

"Yes it was. At six, then." 

I closed the door behind me and was nearly staggered by the wave of warmth I felt from Brad. I knew he danced and spun across the room only to be caught up short by another wave of anxiety about being late, then anger at letting his job interrupt what might have happened. Suddenly fear that he had pushed away his one chance, but then summoning courage to be patient until six. Yes, six o'clock. Angelo would come. Would he come? Oh God, this would be such a long day. 

I returned to the project's secure site to try to capture all I had learned and to inquire from the experts on local culture how I should proceed. One of the other team members, individuated as a woman, took me in charge to teach me all I needed to know about shopping and preparing a meal. She asked me about my subject, Brad, and gathered enough from my description to surmise an appropriate meal plan. She escorted me to a nearby market and instructed me about selecting ingredients for a salad and fish dish. We then went to a wine store to purchase an appropriate wine. On returning to our site, an apparent warehouse with concealed quarters for the individuated members of the team, to teach me basic meal preparation. As we simulated the preparation, dim recollections from my past arose in my memory, of preparing meals and other domestic chores. The world I now inhabited was both familiar to my own human past and entirely new. I was relieved that a kiss was unchanged, recalling the morning's interchange with Brad. 

Confident that I could make the meal I had promised Brad, I retired to a meditation room to share my initial thoughts on Brad. The most important was that I had made a deep connection quickly, bypassing many of Brad's insecurities. I knew he held doubts about my returning and looked forward to easing his mind. I also looked forward to see how our connection would develop. My individuated body surged at that thought. Another recollection of human interaction I now missed from long ago. 

The hour came for my return to meet Brad. Wanting to allay any fear Brad may have held, I crossed the city to Brad's apartment with time to spare. I sat on the top step in front of his apartment door and looked around. The scene was a mix of once ornate houses somewhat the worse for age. Many staircases indicated that the houses were now cut up into apartments. This had once been a fashionable neighborhood and retained traces of its former elegance in the trimwork and architectural details. A moment's concentration revealed pleasing details in most every direction. 

Then I felt his presence, more his emotions, a mix of anxiety and anticipation. He hurried along the street and to the bottom of the stairs. I was rewarded with a huge smile as he spotted me waiting. He sprinted up the stairs, stopping at the landing to gather his composure and his breath. "You're here. I was so worried, but that doesn't matter now. You're here. Have you been waiting long?" 

"Come" I beckoned to him. He closed the space between us. I held my arms open to him. He accepted my embrace with some nervousness at being in the open. "Let's go inside, I have things for the fridge." 

Brad unlocked the door and stepped inside. I carried the bag of groceries into the kitchen and turned to see Brad watching me. "Are you for real?" he asked with both suspicion and admiration. 

"Touch me, if you doubt?" I reached out to embrace him again. He met me in a kiss. Our bodies surged with desire. "Let's take a moment here" I suggested breaking our kiss, not wanting to stop but to follow the building passion. Brad was instantly chastened. I continued to hold him. "I love where I think this is going and I want to hold onto enough control to be mindful of every moment." Brad understood and gave me a quick kiss. 

"I am kind of hungry" he admitted "and I can't remember when someone cooked for me. Let's eat, then..." his voice trailed off, then a wink. I smiled and returned the wink. 

Brad stepped into the kitchen and helped me to find pans and utensils. The meal was ready in little time. Brad had set the small dining room table while I cooked. I gave him the bottle of wine to open then brought out plates already filled. We sat and ate hungrily though my eyes rarely left his. His enjoyment of the meal was genuine as was his struggle to remain patient. On finishing, he swept away the dishes while I looked out at the view as I had in the morning, though now in twilight. He approached me from behind, hugging me. 

"That was lovely, thank you for the meal. You know I was worried all day that I had just imagined meeting you or that you wouldn't be here tonight. But here you are. Now what?" He ached with anticipation. 

In reply, I led him to the couch, guided him to sit, and kissed him. "Will you make love with me?" 

"Oh God, yes. I've been out of my mind horny all day." I put my finger to his lips to quiet him, holding his attention with my eyes. My finger traced a path down his chin, along his throat to the top button of his shirt. Pausing only to unfasten each button, my finger continued its journey, making a few swirls in his chest hair. Brad's breathing became shallow and rapid. "I am totally seduced" he muttered. I only replied "shhh" as I unbuckled and unfastened his pants, drawing aside the fly to expose the bulge of his cock, straining against his briefs. I leaned in to kiss him again, searching his mouth with my tongue, then followed the path of my finger with my tongue only stopping to kiss his cock head through the precum moistened cloth. "Oh yes" Brad whispered. "Angelo?" he said, his voice husky. "Angelo, I want you. I want you to fuck me. Now. Please? Let's go to the bedroom. I want to see you." Brad broke free and rushed down the hall. I followed taking time to remove each article of clothing, letting them fall where they might along the way. Brad was naked on the bed as I entered the bedroom, eyes wide with desire. I stood before him, only in boxers tented by my own desire. Brad licked his lips in anticipation. I hooked my thumbs in the waist band, pulling down until they fell to the floor. My cock surged in front of me. 

"Oh God, I knew you'd be big" Brad exclaimed. I had modeled my physical form based on Brad's thoughts. His excitement at seeing me now naked confirmed that I had fashioned myself to meet his desires. I lay next to him on the bed, again meeting him in a kiss. Brad's hands ranged over my body, bringing more heat to my body's need. He grabbed lube from his nightstand drawer, covering my cock. I lifted his legs to my shoulders and pressed my cock against the pucker of his ass meeting soft resistance. His eyes met mine as I pushed in. He gasped once, then surrendered his fear to desire, opening to my cock. I continued sliding in, all resistance now gone until we were fully joined, not just our bodies, but also our souls. 

And then it happened, the world dropped away, time stood still, the heavens opened and we were surrounded by light. The voices of angels joined in the song of creation and life filling our beings and we were complete. 

Chapter Three - The Morning 




Without Form and Void



Brad awoke in my arms as morning light streamed through the door open to the living room. He raised his head to look at me, smiling. His emotions were a tumble of love, admiration, and deep satisfaction. 

"I'm so happy you're really here" he whispered. "I was afraid it had all been a dream." 

"Tell me about it, lover" I encouraged. 

"You'll think I'm silly" he demurred. 

"No, I think dreams are inspiration. Tell me." 

"Okay. I dreamt that when we were making love that we were transported to another place. It was beautiful, but unearthly. And you'll really think this is silly, I could swear I heard heavenly voices." 

"Why is that silly?" 

"I don't know, it just so cliché, like what poets write about being in love." 

"Who knows better than poets?" 

"Angelo, you're teasing me." 

"No, dear Brad, when we made love I felt just as you describe. When people make love with total abandon, I believe they create the energy of life and that is why we exist. It is our gift to God. Yes, last night the angels sang and today the world is a better place." 

"I believe you're serious, Angelo." 

"I am." 

I felt anxiety rising in him, a skepticism at my too ardent words and a fear that I might be dangerous. 

"Make love to me again, Brad. Dare to experience it all again" I said leaning in to kiss him. I felt his desire surge, even as his cock swelled. His anxiety held him back a moment more, then he melted into my kiss, reaching down to guide my cock back into his ass. The celestial choir enveloped us again in our loving. 

Chapter Four - Cloud Nine 

Reality came back into the room with the insistent ringing of Brad's alarm clock. He struggled to disentangle himself from my embrace to silence the offending noise, then willingly returned to my embrace. 

"I love you" he dared. Fear, courage, warmth. 

"My darling, Brad, thank you for sharing with me." 

"I mean it. I love you." 

"I was counting on it. Maybe not so soon, but I was counting on it" came my reply. 

"I have to go to work, dammit" Brad swore. 

I hugged him hard one more time, stood up, took his hands in mine and pulled him from the bed. Brad grudgingly allowed me to lead him to the shower and submitted to my soaping him, continually interrupting my efforts with attempts to kiss me. Eventually we were both clean. 

"Thank you, lover, Angelo" he said as I gently dried him with a towel. 

We paused, half-dressed to kiss. Our cheeks rubbed as we nuzzled. "I haven't shaved." 

"Don't for today. Your beard makes you more handsome yet" I told him. He glowed with the compliment. 

"You're so fair, it doesn't show on you, but I feel it. So nice" Brad purred in response. 

Brad continued dressing half in a dream. I made him a quick breakfast, snuggled him from behind as he brushed his teeth and led him out of the apartment to the commuter train that would take him to his job in the city center. 

He waved to me as the train pulled away. I could feel his sadness, but also his contentment. We had agreed to meet again that evening. The thought must have passed through his mind, for I felt his surge of desire and anticipation. His thoughts wandered over the events of the previous day evidenced by feelings of warmth. I felt his happiness and realized the same feeling in myself. 

I went to our project site to share what I had experienced. On entering, I was quickly surrounded by other project members, some still in early stages of individuation, still shadowy. I was asked how my subject and I had so quickly achieved a rapport, a rapport that led to energy creation of the highest order. The ego of my individuated body was pleased as my spirit-self demurred. Even as the compliments still warmed my earthly ears, cautions of over-involvement and subjugation to things of the world came from all sides. I thanked all for their advice and repaired to a meditation space to share my experiences. 

Even as I spiraled into a meditative state, I caught a wave of emotions from Brad. Among them were embarrassment, elation, and then a wave of sadness and guilt. I yearned to hear what had caused such acute reactions, knowing I would need to wait until he and I met in the evening. 

I continued my meditation and shared my experiences, adding to the understanding of how humans crave the act of creation and the energy that results. 

Brad met me on the street in front of his apartment house. He was panting and flushed. As we embraced, he confided, "I saw you coming and ran down to meet you. It's been only hours yet seems forever since you dropped me off, my love." 

I could not contain my curiosity about the emotional wave earlier in the day, requesting "please tell me about your day." 

"It was strange on the train. I felt as if everyone was looking at me, or a least stealing glances. They seemed to see that I had been made love to, but that made them happy, too. When I got to the office, my coworkers teased me. 'Brad got laid' they chanted. I tried not to react, but I'm afraid I was blushing furiously which they took as an admission. Well I had gotten laid by a wonderful man and I'm not surprised it shown on my face. Angelo, I love you." Then Brad wound down, his face falling. 

"What happened then, my dearest one?" I asked. 

"It was pretty awful. Karen, a woman I've worked with for years came into the office kitchen when I was getting coffee. No one else was there. She stared at me at first, then broke into tears and fled the room. I had no idea what I had done or said." 

Another coworker came in looking both angry and sympathetic. She said, "You don't know do you. I look at you and I can tell. Men!" 

"I asked what was going on. She told me that Karen had been trying to get my attention for months, that she harbored hopes that we could date and was disappointed that I had not responded as she wished. I was floored. Sure Karen and I had worked well together. I enjoyed her company at work, but I had no idea she was interested in me." 

"I asked my coworker to sit down, fearing and knowing what I had to say. 'First of all, I had no idea of Karen's intentions, but it doesn't matter. I thought everyone kind of knew. I'm gay.' My coworker kind of shrugged and nodded that she had suspected and had warned Karen. Still Karen was surprised that I had made a connection, crushing her fantasy. I felt awful that what had made me so utterly happy had hurt someone else. I'm afraid I felt that way all day - with occasional bouts of unbelievable horniness. And then you came along. You showed me that you cared by asking about my day. That tells me a lot about the kind of man you are and makes more happy that I love you. I am kind of hungry, but can we make love before dinner? I need to be with you. We can go out and grab a bite later." 

Brad took me by the hand and led me into the bedroom and the earth fell away... 

Chapter Five - Undone 

Over the next six months, I shared every possible moment with Brad. At first I was diligent in reporting to the project site each day, meditating and uploading my experiences. When the first weekend came, I even managed to report for a few hours. Then my efforts waned. Brad and I made love, shared love, were love. It was more than bodies and spirits entwined. And while the energy we created raised the good of the world, the cautions about my entanglement escalated to warnings. I was powerless to contain my involvement with Brad. Echoes of my long ago time on earth returned and I craved being wholly human, to spend a life with Brad. 

And then it happened. One early morning as Brad and I lay in each other's arms, the bed warm from our exertions, Brad raised up on one elbow and said, "Angelo, you know I love you, but I know nothing about you. I know you are a magnificent lover. I know you are beautiful and I feel beautiful when I'm with you. But who is this man in my bed, this man who brings me so much happiness? Where do you go during the day? Where do you come from? You never mention any family. I've been curious for a while, but when you kiss me, nothing else matters. Still I want to know you better so I can love you more." 

My mind and soul raced to meet my lover's questions. I did not want to lie, yet I could not imagine telling the truth. "Does it matter, dear one?" I evaded. 

I felt fear crowd out curiosity in Brad and knew I had to tell him more about me. 

With a sigh, I began "We've talked about the sensations when we make love." Brad cuddled amorously closer. "I mean the spiritual side, too." Brad purred understanding. "Well, my people believe that when we love, we add energy to the universe." Brad's brows knitted in mock concern. "I'm serious" I chided. "My job is to help understand this relationship between loving and energy. It's a great job to have with you, by the way." 

Brad was not satisfied. "But where do you come from?" 

"Here, a long time ago, but from here" I replied. 

Brad relented as I kissed him. I made an extra effort to please him as we coupled. 

"All right, I won't ask any more questions" Brad panted, still recovering from our loving. 

His remaining curiosity must have remained very deep, for I only sensed a trace of it. Later that week, it all came apart. I had dropped Brad off at the train and proceeded to the project site, now some weeks since my last visit. My extreme love making had become expected. I breezed past the censorious eyes of the others and entered the meditation room. I had a backlog of experiences to share and quickly descended into the required state, opening my soul. 

I became dimly aware of a disturbance nearby. One of the project team entered the meditation space and called me back from my trance. It was a long journey back, so deeply had I entered. He continued urging me. When I approached coherence, I understood him to say that a man, my subject had followed me to the facility and sought me out. 

I came fully to the present and rushed out to find Brad crumpled on the floor. I ran to him and embraced him. 

"What is this place? Who are these, these creatures?" Brad was nearly out of his mind with fear. I looked around me to observe as he had, a vast empty room and among several normal humans were the half-individuated forms of team members suspended in the air. Terror and confusion consumed Brad. 

A project member approached. "You will have to put his mind at ease. You will have to tell him. He probably won't understand, but you must tell him. This will put an end to your mission. It is an outcome many of us feared as you became more and more attached to this one. Still, it has been a thing of beauty, this love you have shared. Take him away from here and tell him. Do not go where you can make love again, as cruel as that may feel. You must separate so that he can continue his human existence and hopefully continue the extraordinary loving you helped bring out." 

I led Brad out of the facility. The walking calmed him. He allowed me to take his hand. We walked to the spot where I had first appeared to him, a bench along the river's side. I sat and he sat next to me, looking at me, his face full of questions. 

"How can I tell you what I am?" I asked. 

"Are you an alien?" Brad questioned. 

"No, I am from here, as I said. I was human, once, but left the earth, as we all must. The religions of the world have many explanations of what follows death. They try, but fail when they imagine reward and torment. You know that sensation, as we make love, when we are out of time, pure sensation, well that is a glimpse into what comes after. Our life energy is released beyond time and space." 

"How did you come to be here, with me?" 

"I think I explained that when we make love, we create energy." 

"Like making babies." 

"No, that is reproduction, an important by-product, not the purpose of loving. What I mean is re-creation. Creating life energy as we love. It is the moment when the god in each of us performs the act of creation. When people stare at you after we've made love, they see god in you and it reflects the god in themselves. That's why they feel good." 

"So you're telling me you're some kind of creature from beyond?" 

"Not a creature, but pure energy, simple spirit. But in that state, we are beyond creation. All energy must come from life. We, or really I, for there is no individual existence, require the Earth to give meaning. I know this is confusing, language cannot express the concepts of beyond, but know that acts of loving are what drives the universe. We, I seek to promote that, and so on rare occasions we come into human form to connect." 

"You mean like an angel, Angelo?" Brad asked archly. 

"We have been called that in some cultures. We are momentary images of existence." 

"Where will you go?" 

"I will always be here, with you. I have been since the first quickening in your mother's womb. I have been and will be with you always, in every moment of sadness and joy, but particularly when you make love, even when you're alone. And I will be with you when you transition away from this life." 

Brad looked at me sadly. 

"Somehow, we've always been connected, you and I, even as I am not an individual. Know that I am always here, that I love you and care for you. Feel my presence, feel my love." 

I kissed him gently on the cheek and rose to go. He reached out for my hand to draw me back. I resisted, drawing away, fighting the lure of every joy of earth, knowing I must surrender and return to the oneness. 

I walked toward a setting sun, feeling his eyes on me. With each step I shed the molecules of my human form, the sensations I had reveled in during my earthly time. And then I was one with him again, not physically, but in his heart. I felt, as he did, the sadness melting into wonder, disbelief becoming understanding. And while not the ecstatic moment of making love, the earth gave way for him and the heavens sang. 

He watched the figure dissolve into the fading light of a setting sun, his emotions turning again and again. Out of the remaining brightness came a new figure, a man, approaching him. The figure came close. He was tall, well-formed, handsome. Brad looked up at him new questions in his mind? 

"Are you an angel?" Brad dared. 

"I've never been called that, usually much worse" the man replied. 

"You must think I'm crazy. Forgive me" Brad said. 

Brad felt the man's eyes as his glance wandered over his body. Brad looked up to see the man smiling. "When I first saw you, I thought I was seeing things. You looked kind of lighted up. Maybe it was a trick of the sun, but it was like you were glowing. It was beautiful. May I sit down? I'm Dominic, by the way." 

Brad examined the man, wondering if it could be coincidence. 

"You are from Earth, right?" 

"Most of us are, aren't we? I thought I looked like a typical earthling, albeit somewhat fabulous. What's your name?" 

"I'm Brad. Come on, Dominic, let me buy you some coffee." 

"Sounds great. Before we go, I know it might seem forward, but since I first saw you, I've had an urge to kiss you. Would that be okay?" 

"Nothing would please me more." 

They kissed. 

"Did you hear that?" asked Dominic. 

"What?" 

"It was like a choir or something up in the air." 

"Get used to it, Dominic. Somehow, I think this, you and me, is meant to be."