0 comments/ 28564 views/ 1 favorites Going Home By: meganmurphy My name is Sam. I'm just an ordinary guy that's been having some extraordinary experiences this past year. What I'm about to tell you about is one of them. It happened last night and I'm still in shock. I'm gonna start out by telling you right now, I wasn't drunk. And no, I wasn't high on anything. I couldn't have imagined this in my wildest dreams... It was about 10pm and I was tired and a little depressed. The day had not gone well. I had a fight with my girl, Lisa. I had called her earlier in the day to let her know that I’d be working late. What I got was, "Today’s Sweetest Day, Sam. Guess you forgot." Well I mean, come on! One of a million 'let's make some money greeting card holidays', I'm supposed to remember all of them? I'm in the wrong business, that's for sure. Not only would I be rich, but I'd also have no trouble remembering any of those made up holidays. Throughout the day, I thought about Lisa and how far we'd come. I'm the type of guy that used to think I knew what love was. It was all about sex, right? 'She's excited because I'm coming so I guess she had an orgasm too' type of thinking. Well, Lisa has shown me quite a few things that have proven me wrong. And I'm learning. Just the other day she taught me that her pleasure increased my own when it was time. Heck, I never knew how beautiful a woman's body was just before they came. That glow? Those nipples so perfectly tight and hard? Ah, I'm getting hard just thinking about my patient Lisa watching me watching her. But, as I said, we had a fight. So, of course the rest of my day went downhill from there. Lost inventory, irate customers, spilled coffee and it was only 9 in the morning! I'm telling you, the rest of the day did not get any better than that. Well, you can see why I was depressed on my way home – and hoping that when I got there, it wasn't going to be a continuation of our morning fight. I was sitting in an aisle seat at the back of the bus. The only people riding with me were an elderly lady near the front and the driver. Good, I thought. I can have some peace and figure out what I was going to say to Lisa. I was thinking it was too late to buy flowers when the whoosh of opening doors interrupted my planning. The bus had stopped to take on another passenger. Standing about 5'2" with long red curly hair, she put her money in the coin box, then turned to walk down the aisle. I just happened to notice she was wearing a short black dress that buttoned down the front. Wait -- Did I say passenger? I meant goddess! I know my mouth dropped when I saw her. She smiled at me right away, like she was expecting to see me sitting there, in the back of the bus by myself. Me? I tried to act my cool, nonchalant normal self. Well, I mean I tried after I closed my mouth and stopped slobbering all over the place. She sat down directly across from me and didn't say a word. Just sat there, looking at me. I tried to ignore her because I'm not a total sexist pig you know. But I swear that when she crossed one leg over the other, if I could have oinked, I would have. Her dress rode up, there was the sizzle of stocking against stocking and then … I saw an incredible patch of white thigh. But it was that deep purple garter strap that burned itself into my brain. You may not believe this but at that moment, I suddenly knew what I was going to get Lisa for our belated Sweetest Day celebration: a garter and stockings. Yep, I was trying to be good, trying hard to think about Lisa. I tried so hard not to think those impure thoughts. You know the ones I mean. 'What kind of panties does she have on,' 'are her breasts as firm as they look, straining against the front of her dress?' You've probably figured out by now that I was thinking them anyway. I was. I'll admit it. But what she did next was not something I could ever have imagined happening in real life; and that's when my impure thoughts and my control over them went their separate ways. She smoothed her skirt across her thighs while she watched me. My eyes went from her face to her hands. I was hypnotized. She turned toward me and the front of the bus ceased to exist. When she slowly uncrossed her legs and left them slightly open, I was a goner. She smiled at me as she lifted the bottom of her dress and slowly dragged it up past her thighs. I swear my heart felt like it was trying to make an emergency exit when I saw her purple panty-covered pussy. My cock responded big time, standing proud and tall while her unwavering gaze inspected me. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she whispered. Well, what could I do? I was a gentleman after all. Ok, a horny one at the moment, but still a gentleman. And believe me, I had to show her because my cock was almost hurting, strangling against the front of my jeans. I struggled to unbuckle my belt and pop open the snap. I watched her hands as they shifted to the top of her dress. She slowly unbuttoned the first four buttons. By then, my zipper was down. My cock had made a tent out of my underwear so I quickly pulled the elastic waist down and set it free. It was perfect timing on my part because by that time, she had pulled her dress open and I could see the swell of round flesh straining through her purple bra. The sight sent a jolt of lust through my already twitching cock. I gripped it hard at the base, using a tight fist to try and keep my excitement under control. Her hand pulled down one the cups enclosing what I so desperately wanted to see. My breath quickened when she rested a breast in the palm of her hand, thumb moving back and forth against the nipple I hadn't seen yet. "Wait just a second," she said softly. “Close your eyes. I want to make sure it's nice and hard when you first see it." Was I dreaming? No woman has ever said that to me before. Well, now that I think about it, I've never really given a woman the chance to undress herself like this in front of me. Patience is not one of my redeeming qualities. I was afraid to release my cock. I didn't want to come yet. I wanted to stay in this excited state and see what happened next. But I had to do something or I'd not see anything except stars. So, I held my balls with one hand while my other hand used the ol' two-fingered thwack to the top of my cock. Yet I still almost came when I finally saw her beautiful nipple. The little nubbin was swollen to a deep shade of rose, so stiff it was almost square. The tip was centered high in the middle of a soft pink breast. I know I drooled, thinking of how good it would feel between my teeth as I pulled it gently out from the soft surrounding skin and licked it with my tongue. I would roll her other nipple between my fingers, tantalizing her with sweet pinches of pleasure that would echo the nibbling of my teeth on her other nipple. Her raspy voice brought my imagination to a halt. "Time for our pleasure, don't you think?" Talk about being brought out of a dream! The urgency in her voice told me that she was as excited as I was. She teased her nipple, letting her other hand move down between her legs. My cock jerked like a puppet as I watched her squeeze and pull her nipple. I actually had to put my balls in a vise grip to keep from coming when she revealed the last of her hidden pink treasures. She lifted the edge of elastic near her pussy, pulled it away and to the side. Her pussy was as stunning as she was and she was SHAVED. I could see that her labia were full and aroused. She slid her hand from her nipple and down to those rosy lips. Shifting down in her seat a little, she used two fingers to open herself up for my inspection. The inner slit was glistening with her excitement. I looked down at my cock and saw the tip glistening with pre-come. We were most definitely a matched set in this game of excitement and lust. And that's what it was. Lust. No commitment. No rules. It was just pure and simple lust - a come without a conscience. This was all a thing of the past for me I had thought. I knew I was wrong as I watched her middle finger move slowly up and down her inner crease, nudging her clit but not touching it. I pushed my throbbing cock flat against my belly, using long flat-palmed strokes from balls to the red-hot tip, slowly increasing the pressure and speed of my hand. I couldn't take my eyes off of her little pearl as it expanded and became erect, looking like a miniature version of my cock. "Let's come together," she panted. "We can do it. Just let me know when, ok?" Let her know when? My god, I was so close. I closed my eyes and got lost in that luscious pussy of hers. Those slippery good sounds from her fingering mixed with her wonderfully musky aroma had me biting my lips to maintain control. I knew how she'd feel if I slid two fingers deep into her, searching for her g-spot, spreading my fingers open and shut deep inside her. I knew I would love the feel of her inner muscles clenching against my fingers when I finally feather-touched her clit. I opened my eyes and took a firm grip on my cock, moving my thumb and index finger in a see-saw motion. It was almost time. She saw the look in my eyes and began to roll and massage her clit. As she polished it to a ruby red glow, I imagined how it would feel against my finger. I imagined the fingers against her nub were really on my cock as I hissed "I'm coming…oh my God, I'm coming…" She came with me. I saw it in the way her body stiffened against the back of the seat, much like how my body grew rigid. I arched back, balls tight between my thighs as my come literally exploded between my fingers and into the palm of my hand. Then I collapsed back against the seat, sexually released from the amazing tension she had inspired in me. Slowly opening my eyes, I looked down at my hand all covered in come. Across the aisle, my fantasy in the little black dress looked just as dazed and drained as I felt. I found some Kleenex in my pants pocket and cleaned myself up as best I could. "Fullerton Avenue," the bus driver called out. In all my life, I've never been able to do the 'one-handed tuck and zip-up" as quickly as I did at that moment. She smiled at me and it was one of the most gorgeous, contented smiles I've ever seen on a stranger's face. Her fingers flew to button her dress as she stood up and looked down at me. Bending at the waist, she leaned over and gently kissed me. "Happy Sweetest Day," she whispered. Then she turned and walked off the bus, just disappeared from my life. Happy Sweetest Day, I thought. Was I the only person in the whole world who forgot? My mind was reeling as I tried to figure out exactly how this all happened. I'd once tried to talk Lisa into trying something outrageously sexy with an anonymous stranger on a bus or train while I watched. Usually our fantasies were similar but with this one, she shook her head, laughed and said it was crazy and dangerous. But it just happened! And I didn't even get slapped or arrested. Suddenly the consequences hit me. I sat there, wondering how I could get in the door, past Lisa and into the bathroom to clean myself off. Did I feel remorse? Well, sure. I mean, I know there weren't any bodily fluids exchanged, or even phone numbers. I didn't do any touching, unless you count my imagination. But, I'm telling you that while I felt guilty, I couldn't have helped myself. I don't think any man in his right frame of mind, would have done anything other than what I did. I walked into the apartment, an undecided guy. Should I tell Lisa about this experience? Should I keep it to myself? Should I try to convince myself I fell asleep on the way home and it was all a dream? I shook my head as I looked at the Kleenex in my hand. She was sitting in the living room, wearing her red robe, reading a book. I tensed, thinking that her first words would be about what a jerk I was to not have remembered Sweetest Day. "Hi, Sam," she smiled. "I'm sorry about the fight." I gotta tell you that I was stunned. She sounded sweet and forgiving. She actually met my look of wary confusion with amusement. Then she started to laugh. "My friend Kate just called to tell me where she bought that sexy purple bra and panty set with the matching garter you seem to have liked so well." She grinned mischievously. "By the way, you did like my Sweetest Day present, didn't you?" She walked over to where I stood in silent amazement. "You did have a nice ride home on the bus, didn't you?" She fondled the outside of my jeans. "I thought I'd help you out with a hint or two of what I'd like for a present.” Then she stood back and opened her robe, stroked her pussy. “How about a garter and stockings?” she whispered. “Maybe a purple bra and panties?" She smiled and suddenly I knew why that woman acted like she expected me to be on the bus. It was Lisa letting her imagination turn real. Was I the luckiest ordinary guy in the world or what? What man on earth could have a woman like Lisa plan a fantasy for me with such abandon? I held her close, vowing that tomorrow we'd go shopping for those stockings and garter. But instead of purple…maybe a see-through pale yellow bra with matching thong panties… * * * * * Copyright October 1999 by Megan Murphy. All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced, copied, distributed, published, quoted or used in any form for commercial gain without the express written permission of the author. Going Home She'd done it. She'd left her husband and her old life far behind, miles beneath on the ground. She soared through the skies, heading west, into the sun, feeling weightless and exhilarated, with that scary trembling in her gut that told her things were changing rapidly, perhaps too rapidly. As the plane broke through the low, gray clouds, the orange sun blazed into her eyes and she looked down in child-like wonder, still fascinated by the roiling swell of clouds beneath her, though she'd seen it a dozen times before. This time was different. She's flown alone before, on a visit to a man in a far off state. Her husband had known however, and approved, or at least not minded over much. By then relations between them were more negative than positive and she was in dire need of reassurance that she was still worth something in someone's eyes. She still had confidence in her intelligence and abilities - these things had never been questioned - but her confidence in herself as a sexual being had been slowly eroding over the past several months. Their already dismal sex life had slowed to less than a trickle as her husband found more and newer outlets for his lust. It angered her more than she could safely express. She'd married him with the expectation that he was 'the one' for her and she 'the one' for him, with the belief that they would be faithful and loving always, and with no desire in her heart for anyone but him. In the few months preceding she felt like she'd been eviscerated. Everything she had known and believed was suddenly meaningless and the one person she had thought she could rely on to love her completely had turned on her when her desires didn't match his. She had taken that flight south to be with a man who perhaps didn't completely understand her, but who at least desired her and her kind and wanted to give her lovely memories. He'd certainly done that. She'd had a similar feeling in her gut as the plane took off that time as well, but this time it was different in every possible way. This time she was in love with the man she was going to, not just casually in lust with a friend. This time she had no intention of returning. And her soon-to-be-ex knew that too. She'd hugged him goodbye in that way reserved for maiden aunts and overly familiar uncles, feeling his thin, muscular body press stiffly into her soft, yielding flesh, feeling the hard plane of his chest crushing her round, sensitive breasts, the sharp collarbone against her cheek. She'd sighed in her own kind of relief, closing her eyes and seeing the face of her beloved, knowing that she would soon be with him, in his arms, in his bed, on her knees before him or tied and…. She shook off the lovely image before it had fully formed, wanting to save it for the solitude of the flight. She smiled though, knowing that she wouldn't have to explain the dazed expressions on her face or be snapped back into reality as she imagined a particularly titillating scene. She wouldn't have to hide her joy at the sound of his name or her lust at the thought of his mouth on her, his whisper in her ear. She would be with her lover and Master and her world would at last feel complete. She'd stood back and nodded slightly, picked up her bag, then stepped into the taxi and closed the door. She'd tried to forget he'd ever existed. It was too painful, otherwise, and she'd hoped he was doing the same, although they would still travel in the same circles and most of their friendships were mutual. But for now she wanted to be alone. She'd gazed at her naked ring finger all the way to the airport. *** Her chilled fingers closed around the plastic cup and she drank the hot coffee the flight attendant gave her, her gaze never leaving the shifting clouds beneath her till the city was in view and the pressure made her ears pop. She shuffled off the plane and entered a bright, gaudy airport waiting for her connecting flight, watching the little dramas of meetings and leavings all around her, observing the joys and sadnesses of a hundred strangers, listening to the cries of tired babies, the mumbling of harried travelers, inhaling the scents of perfume and fast food and liquored breath and stale air, answering questions of the customs agents as her bags were checked and tagged and sent on their way. She sat cross-legged, exposing too much of her thigh and not caring as old men ogled her, not noticing the younger men either, with their bold stares and lascivious suggestions. Her mind was elsewhere, hovering in that sweet, blissful place where all things were possible and all dreams fulfilled. In that place she was already with her lover, already lying helpless, feeling his fingers stroke her skin and his mouth consume her with the most tenderly controlled passion she'd ever felt. In that place, the only sounds were their breath and her longing, sighing moans as he teased her closer and closer to bliss and stopped short yet again only to grin at her beseeching face and leave her hovering there for a moment before finding some other sweet torment for her to endure. Her vacant expression and flushing face drew odd looks from the shuffling hoards of travelers, but she didn't even notice. She came to only as her flight was called, got to her feet and walked in a daze to the next plane, sitting in a languid, lustful haze as it taxied and the engines gunned and she left the earth once more. This time the sun was a thin band of red on the horizon, and above the clouds were a glowing yellow-green-pink-blue haze against the backdrop of a midnight sky. She watched the stars appear, wishing on the first one, then closed her eyes and fell gradually asleep, her hand moving surreptitiously in her lap under her coat, soothing her, and giving her new sparks of feeling in her belly as she thought of him. In her dreams he appeared before her as she'd last seen him, tall compared to her tiny frame, his dark hair hanging in a loose braid down his back, brushed there and knotted by her own hands, his eyes full of sorrow at watching her board yet another plane in yet another city as she had to leave him again. She recalled sitting there in the dull boarding lounge for an hour, wondering why she couldn't have stayed with him just a few minutes longer, savouring the heat on her buttocks from the most recent spanking and the warm, damp trickle between her sore nether lips that promised to make it a very long flight home. Her dream changed suddenly and she was seeing herself from the outside, but from the inside as well, in that odd double vision of dreams. Viewed from the outside, she was on her knees, her legs pushed slightly apart, and her smooth, bare ass exposed to the air. Her lover was lying alongside her, his right hand very tenderly caressing the soft white skin that was now tinted pink from his slaps. She saw herself trembling in lust and fear and excitement as he told her how beautiful she was. She saw her cheeks blushing at his words, then saw her eyes blink in fierce shock as he spanked her again, leaving her panting and whimpering. Her inner self felt the slap and the throb of lust in her pussy that accompanied it and could feel her parched throat gasping to catch her breath. She felt the blush of embarrassment as her lover turned his head to listen to her count out the number of the particular stroke, and felt a twist of lust in her belly at that too. The dream shifted again and now she was on her back, lying half across her lover, her head thrown back, her eyes clenched tightly, but her legs spread open for him as he slowly spanked her pussy, one stroke at a time, and now her cheeks didn't blush quite so much as she very softly gasped out the numbers, her body stiffening and thrusting toward him between each slap, longing for it, and too shy to beg aloud. She awoke with a start to the feel of the plane shaking and the comforting voice of the captain saying that everything was all right and hopefully there'd be no more turbulence. She hugged herself and trembled with aftershocks of her dream. She took deep calming breaths as she gazed up at the sky, imagining the infinity and just failing to grasp it, but knowing that it was as endless as her life seemed now, stretching on forever in a wide strip of unimagined pleasures and fears. She jumped, startled, as the flight attendant touched her shoulder and offered a drink to calm her nerves. She ordered hot tea and sipped its milky sweetness and slowly the pounding of her heart stopped and she gazed down in fascination yet again at the streams of cars on the highways and streets below, amazed at the quantity of humanity visible from the air. She heard the notice that they were thirty minutes from landing and slipped off to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. She wanted to look beautiful when he saw her, knowing he'd seen her at her worst anyway and would love her no matter what, but still wanting to look pretty, or at least presentable when he took her in his arms and crushed her to him. She washed her face in the tiny sink and patted it dry with the rough paper towels, then quickly brushed her teeth and fixed her hair. She adjusted the thin silver collar at her throat, opening her blouse another button or two so that it was more visible, and baring her breasts at the same time. Lastly she reached under her short skirt and removed her now damp panties, stuffing them in her purse. She pulled the skirt down as low as it would go and made her way back to her seat, grateful there was no seatmate to inadvertently notice their sudden lack. The plane taxied in with agonizing slowness and her eyes scanned the backlit figures in the windows of the lounge in the vain hope that she'd recognize his rangy form. Her legs trembled on her way off the plane and up the stairs. Her eyes scanned the waiting crowd and finally there he was, his dark eyes shining in barely concealed delight, his grin just as devilish. She ran to him and clung to him, sobbing a flood of grief and relief and love and nerves and shook in his embrace till he tilted her face up and kissed her softly on her mouth and wiped her tears away with his gentle fingertips. He looked down at her thoughtfully for a moment, his hands softly stroking her cheeks, then said, "Mine," and hugged her tightly as she grinned and hid her blushing face against his chest. He pulled her toward the waiting luggage and grabbed the bags she pointed to with one hand while he kept the other firmly on the back of her neck. They walked out into the chilly evening air and he tossed the bags in the back of his truck. She stopped for a moment to inhale the damp, clean smell of the air, so different after the stale recycled air in the plane's cabin. She crawled up into the cab and sat tight against his side as his hand stroked her naked thigh, making her squirm. They didn't talk. She couldn't have anyway. The happiness and relief was too great and she couldn't find her voice. It was always like this after they'd been separated for a few months - she couldn't speak, all she could do was gaze at him and feel her heart swell in her chest with more happiness than she'd ever known. She watched his brown eyes sparkle and smiled at the curve of his lips as he took her left hand and stroked the bare fingers, lingering over the slight divot left by the absence of her wedding band. There was no sound but their tires on the highway and no light but what they made and the orange haze coming from the city. The stars got brighter the further out they drove and the cars got fewer. She listened to his breathing and tried to control her own, trying to mask the unseemly excitement but unable. His right arm went around her shoulder and his fingers pushed her shirt aside, finding her stiff nipple and pinching it lightly. She made a sound like 'uh' and shook a bit, making him smile. His hand moved back to her thigh and then up to her crotch, stroking her and he smiled again when he felt her smooth, bare wetness. She tried not to move too much, not wanting him to stop, but he did anyway, for a moment, then slowly pushed his finger into her, his eyes never leaving the road as he probed her, stroking and pressing all her most sensitive spots. She groaned aloud again and spread her legs wide, pushing toward his hand. When he felt this, he matched her movement and pulled his hand away, making her strain for his touch, and laughed at the sound of frustration she made when she couldn't reach far enough. He lifted his hand to his face and inhaled her scent, then licked her wetness from his finger and put both hands on the steering wheel, looking determined to get them home. She blushed bright red at the sight and closed her eyes. She was embarrassed at her display, at the way he could do that to her, turn her into an absolute slut with one touch. She sat up next to him and pulled her short skirt modestly down, covering most of her thighs. She shifted her swollen breasts under her thin shirt and looked out the window wondering where her dignity had gone, where she'd lost it on her long flight into the mountains. Her legs were primly together and she was acutely aware of every single thing touching her skin. She could feel the silk of her blouse teasing the soft flesh of her bare nipples, the uncomfortable condition of her pantiless bottom on the sticky car seat, the cool metallic feel of the collar encircling her throat. She could feel the heat that radiated from his body against her side and left leg, and the cool night air bringing the gooseflesh up on her bare calves. She swallowed and wondered again how his presence could make her feel like this, how the fact of his existence in her realm of perception could overwhelm her sense and her senses and make her a silent, compliant tramp, an eager, if somewhat shy, partner to whatever he suggested. She looked out at the unfamiliar landscape, wondering how far from civilization he'd decided to build his little retreat. She could see vague dark shapes looming against the sky and knew they would be revealed as the Rockies when daylight came. For now they were monsters, immense sentinels watching them speed into the dark. She hadn't seen his new cabin yet - only knew it from his descriptions in email. He'd been working on remodeling it for months to make it cozy and comfortable enough for a lady, and also to incorporate a few additions that most cabins did not possess, such as places to allow said lady to be bound. She smiled softly at this thought. He glanced her way and saw the distracted look in her eyes, decided she needed a lesson in paying attention and roughly pulled the truck over onto a side road. She looked up, startled as he pushed her down onto the seat and shoved her skirt up with one hand as he opened his pants with the other. With a soft moan she opened herself for her lover and Master and closed her eyes in bliss as he pressed himself into the wet cleft of her cunt. His desire to teach her a lesson was dissolved as he sunk into her depth and felt her naked slickness grasp at him for the first time in months, pulling him deeper as she threw her hips up to meet his thrusts. His arm went under the small of her back to lift her to him, as his face pushed her blouse aside and his mouth went to suckle the cherry pinkness of her nipples. Her heat and her moisture coated him and as she clamped down around his cock, he came quickly and pulled out of her, closing his pants and pulling back onto the highway before she was completely certain what was happening. She started to whimper and her hands went to ease the throbbing between her legs. He let her stroke herself for about a minute, enjoying the spectacle, then ordered her to sit up like a lady. He held both her small hands in one of his for the rest of the trip, not even letting her close her legs to get relief from a secret flexing of her thighs. Her heart soared in happiness as she lay her head on his shoulder and he grinned as he glanced in the rear view mirror and saw her blissful smile reflected back to him, the silver of her collar gleaming and reflecting the lights of the dashboard up onto her chin. The remaining minutes of the ride seemed endless and torturous, as he'd intended and he knew her mind was consumed solely with thoughts of him now, and not worries over the propriety of her behavior as his semen dripped from her onto the seat and wet her thighs, leaving her with a sticky reminder of who was Master. She squirmed and fidgeted, as the throbbing between her legs grew softer, but somehow deeper and more insistent. She wondered how much farther they had to go. They drove on for another hour, their altitude increasing and the trees along the highway thickening, until he made a sudden right turn. A narrow, winding trail through the trees turned out to be a driveway that led to a small clearing in the pines and there, obscured by the trees, was a small log cabin. Flanked on one end by a huge stone chimney and on the other by a small, newly constructed barn with a well-fenced paddock, the cabin, in it's tiny clearing on the side of the mountain, looked like a haven. In the bright moonlight she could see the dark shape of his mare standing there, watching them curiously to see who'd arrived in her small, confined world as the truck pulled to a halt. The cabin was dark, but wood smoke wisped from the chimney in thin streams. He had even gone to the trouble to plant some flowers near the doorstep to welcome her, but in the cool mountain evening, these had closed their blossoms and wilted a bit in the chilled air. Although it was September, it was already cooling off at this altitude and a light sparkling frost covered the grass and leaves. She hadn't felt how chilled she was till she felt the warmth from the small fire still crackling in the hearth and she went to it instinctively, holding out her hands then standing with her rump pointed at the fire as she looked around at the strange house. The last time they'd been together was months ago, in his tiny bachelor apartment in Michigan. So much had happened since then. It felt as if the world had conspired to bring them together and that was just fine with her. The cabin was far different from his sordid little pad. Tidy, for one thing, in a way the apartment had not been. Here, all the walls were freshly painted and the ceilings didn't leak. The only raccoons lived out in the woods and not in the attic. There were no neighbours to annoy with her pleasured squeals, and none to come to her aid if her cries took on a more frightened tone. The kitchen looked freshly tidied, with dishes drying in the rack and the delightful smell of wood smoke filling the air. It looked like a place she would be happy to call home. She watched her lover walk down the hallway and into a large room where he dropped her luggage on the bed. Her mind instantly jumped to who would be sleeping next to her and she recalled with wry fondness the soft sound of his snoring and the heat of his body wrapped tightly around hers in his sleep, as if to keep her there next to him, to keep her from abandoning him in the dark. He came back and stood in front of her, placing his hands on her slim waist and pressing a full kiss down onto her lips, feeling her strain toward him, responding with her whole body to his gentleness. He smiled down at her. "Welcome home, love," he whispered softly. Her face broke into a smile and she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, leaning her head gently on his chest and sighing deeply, a tired, happy sigh, then she looked up at him and whispered quietly, "Thank you, Master." He smiled devilishly and kissed her forehead then led her by the hand to the kitchen. "As long as you're here you'll be cooking and keeping house for us. Have to make you useful somehow." He winked at her and she nodded, smiling faintly, not caring what he said as long as his attention was on her, as long as he was looking at her with that barely concealed lust, that craving for her soft body, her warm mouth. Going Home Copyright 1980--2002 madengineer3 all rights reserved * It is a damp and windy outside. Through the bay window I can see low flying deep gray clouds passing overhead, and hear the low throated moans that come from the sound of the wind blowing across the top of the fireplaces' chimney. My favorite pipe is making friendly gurgling sounds as I draw on it. In the background is a recording of the Rachmaninoff prelude in C# minor. At my feet, sitting on the floor, is my son and one of his best friends, who is spending a week with us. My son has just asked me to recount the story of how I came to live here, for his friends sake. As I began to think of that time I find the old feelings coming back. Fear, real gut-wrenching fear, almost has a life of its own. It can seem dead for years and then suddenly spring to life again. Moments ago,my son's request, the right combination of mood, music, time of day, and pipe tobacco threw me back into the jaws of deep depression and fear. The chill in my spine, the cold sweat, the tightness in my chest and throat were back again. "Now, son, I know that you've probably heard stories about the plague, but the people who told those stories didn't personally live through it. Let me tell you about it. The time was early in the third decade of the twenty-first century. At first nobody knew that the civilized world was fighting, and losing, a war for its survival. This war was not being fought with tanks and guns. This was a war fought in molecular biology labs, a war to stamp out a new and unique virus. All of the technically literate societies on Earth were working together at a level that would have been unthinkable during the twentieth century. The virus was most strange. It attacked both the central nervous and endocrine systems. In most people its effect was to produce, in an almost totally painless fashion, a docile, sterile person who was not capable of using abstract rational thought. The plague was capable of transmission by surface contamination, air, and water. As an added problem, the virus would grow in domesticated animals without harming them. The virus had a dormant phase that lasted for one to two years. At first it seemed like the plague had two levels of activity. Most people just became docile and went on "living", but some people died from it. The virus had already spread over the entire globe before the first major outbreaks, in humans had been detected. As the plague progressed, certain disquieting anomalies had become apparent. Certain people, or rather groups of people, were seen to be immune to the virus. The absolute best people in their fields of expertise, for example Nobel laureates, were seldom stricken, while the less fortunate around them were. The three other groups that survived in far greater numbers than could be explained by mere chance were radical ecologists of a type similar to the old "earth first" crowd of the late twentieth century, radical Darwinists who held that man was only an animal and was qualitatively no better than any other animal, and lastly the news media and entertainment people who fell into the support sphere of the first two groups. It was only much later that I found out that two drugs had been given to certain people two or three years before the virus first showed up. One of these drugs rendered a person immune to this evil virus; and the other one caused the virus to be lethal. Some of us had been chosen to receive the first drug since it was thought that we would be "useful" to our new masters; others were chosen to receive the second drug, and die!On the "unwanted" end of the probability curve were teachers, conservative clergy, governmental leaders, military people, police, and union leaders. These seemed to die off in the first wave of the virus attack in any given community. In the organizational vacuum that followed, the well organized super-green parties of the world "offered" their services to provide a framework for order. All those who had not received one of these drugs became all but idiots. Their analytical skills were somewhere below those of a sharp kindergartener. My wife, a teacher, was one of those who died relatively quickly. I've never fully gotten over her loss!I wonder which of the conferences that she went to was the one where they passed on the drug that would cause her to die? Was it the one to show her how to help handicapped students fit in better, was it the sign language course she took to help her communicate with a deaf student that she knew that she'd have the next year, or was it perhaps the course in how to help support abused kids? ... I'll never know, but I'd still like to meet the person who drugged her, preferably in a dark alley .... with no witnesses. For the first three or so years, I didn't think too much about these details. I was up to my neck in work. You see, I design automated process control systems. With the number of people who were now incapable of technical work, someone had to run the factories for food products, run the rail transportation system, and so forth. Clothing wasn't much of a problem since shame at nakedness was lost when most of the higher faculties were destroyed by the virus. It was a real trip to venture out in "public" after the virus. There were too few people to really do a good job, so I had been assigned the job of designing a globally distributed network for coordinating production and transportation of raw materials and finished products,water resource tracking, sewage control systems and the chemicals that they needed to render the waste products clean and safe, the generation of electrical power, etc. If you've ever read up on how people used to run manufacturing systems the system I was working on was a cross between a super MRP (Materials Resources Planning) program coupled to an SPC(Statistical Process Control) package. After all, it was unthinkable to run out of the real basics of food, water, and medicines. These were the items being coordinated on a world wide scale! It is a sickening feeling when you realize that the bug that you found in your program, or the communications link that didn't work correctly led to the deaths of several thousand people! I still have nightmares about system flaws after system flaws causing death, off and on, during the ten years that the system was being designed, built and debugged! It is hard to live with the deaths of others as the price for too few resources and not enough help to get the system going faster. Granted, the system that was to come on line in year ten would only fully cover the northern United States, and Canada to the extent that life could be comfortable. However, control to even that level that would allow life at the subsistence level on a global scale. When you consider all of the control needed, it was still a massively complex job. I guess I had been"chosen" because I was an expert in the design of control systems, and was highly knowledgeable regarding the Worldnet communications system. Some of us began to be suspicious that the ever so fortunate Super-Greens may have had something to do with the plague, and the "accidents". One day, my old friend, Neils, sent me a message that had a tremendous impact on me. Neils was a Nobel laureate in molecular-biology and was my brother until the plague killed my wife of twenty years. He had found fifty four Rabiznik splices in the virus that had caused the plague. Now, you must understand that Alexandr Rabiznik had nothing to do with the plague. He was a brilliant genetic engineer who had developed an exceptionally effective way to splice genetic material into exactly the spot that a person might wish to place such material. Rabiznik was most famous for developing the virus that killed only cancerous cells, thus ridding the world of that dreaded killer. Rabiznik used to tell his students that the only difference between a virus made by God and one of his home made ones was the quirky little side chain consisting of one extra Lysine group that was left at the site of the splice. Such a splice mark did not occur in nature, and the presence of fifty four such marks implied a very carefully designed and crafted virus. Rabiznik had been Neils' doctoral adviser. If Neils said that there were fifty four splices, he meant that there were exactly fifty four splices; no more, no less. That meant that the plague hadn't been a mistake! My wife had been murdered. Unless you have also lost a spouse, you cannot imagine how lonely life can be. What was missing was the friendly talk, the purposeful brushing against each other in passing, the cuddling in bed like two stacked spoons, or like an overgrown kid hugging his teddy bear. It wasn't just the question of sex; as all truly happily married people know, they are simply incomplete without the other person. Some nameless person had stolen this from me! ... Angry,you have no idea how angry I was. As I said, Neils and I had been suspicious for a while, and as such had taken precautions in our communications. We corresponded via messages over the Worldnet communications system. Worldnet was a mesh of ATM(Asynchronous Transfer Mode) nodes, sometimes bridged to SONET(Synchronous Optical NETwork) rings, that allowed fast, highly reliable data transmissions on a world wide scale. My messages to him took on the form of non-printing characters in large graphics files. I'd send him a "harmless", and mostly meaningless, note accompanied by a large file of a landscape or pin-up and he would respond in kind. We seldom even looked at the pictures, but processed them via an encryption/decryption scheme that removed text from what appeared to be transmission noise and fuzzy edges created by the digitizing of the picture. I had come up with this scheme of communications as a lark while Neils and I were in grad school. Neils and I had been the only ones left alive who knew how to use it. It was two days after finding out about the Rabiznik splices that I heard about Neils' "accident". He had supposedly been out partying,had too much to drink, and driven off a mountain road into a deep ravine one dark moonless night. It would have been a good story for anyone who didn't know Neils. There were two reasons that the story had to be a lie. Firstly, Neils had extreme problems with night vision. He had too few rod cells in his retina, and was as blind as the proverbial bat after sundown. Secondly, Neils' wife of twelve years had died as the result of a drunken driver. Neils had not touched a drop of alcohol since that accident. Neils had been murdered just as my wife had been murdered! Shortly after the "accident" I was questioned by our security chief, Martin O'Donough. Martin, in actuality, was a secret police officer for the Super-Greens. He was responsible for the political correctness of our research center and the surrounding area. He wanted to know what messages I might have received from Neils. I told him about the clear text message which came with the "picture"; and told them that I had scrapped the picture because it was a duplicate of one that I already had. When I returned to my home that evening I found that my house had been broken into, and searched. It was obvious that my home computer had also been searched. The official explanation from Martin was that "hooligans" had broken in to try to find some money. But, where would computer literate, thinking hooligans come from? The virus had taken care of all the "thinking" hooligans on earth. From this point on I started to really watch what our benefactors, the Super-Greens, were doing. I started a monthly news letter to others, like myself, who had "luckily" survived. In each of these I'd ask after their health, and progress; and then have them try running some inane"communications test" for me. It was through this means that I started to hear of the other "accidents". One by one the various scientists, who had been spared the effects of the plague, started to die in unusual ways. It was amazing how accident prone this population had become. No sooner would a scientist reach the point where the project no longer really needed their expertise, and they became "gravely ill" (pun intended) or they had a "fatal accident". One or two of these people had ghastly accidents in their own laboratories. I suspect, even now, that these were the result of a sudden realization of what our "benefactors" had done for us! Statistically there was a vanishingly small chance that these deaths were random events. As my project entered its final year, two thoughts gripped me. One; there were only two thinking scientists yet alive who were not members of the Super-Greens; and Two, I was being watched very closely any time that I went near the project. I had been given almost all of the freedom that I could ask for in my "private life". After all, what could I do against them since they controlled the entire world? My private life was sort of a "pacifier" used to keep me happy. Since the death of Neils I must use the word private in a somewhat reserved manner since sophisticated "bugs", listening devices, started to appear in my home. One time a bug would be berried in a wall outlet box, another time it would be a strain gauge instrument attached to a floor joist so that my entire floor became the microphone diaphragm, other times it would be a circuit which used the mouthpiece of my telephone while it was on hook. It got to the point where I didn't speak at home any more. I was, however, still allowed to take long weekend trips into the mountains, on my large dirt bike. The Super- Greens hated that bike, but so far had not taken any open action to take it away from me. I'd even made sure that they couldn't suddenly find it impossible to get gasoline! ( I lowered the compression ratio by spacing the head out a bit so that I could easily run on alcohol, or even kerosene. What they didn't know was that I had been working on my hide-away. Unless they had dedicated a spy satellite following me on a weekend they couldn't know where I went. Unless, that is, Sonya was one of them. Except for my faith in my God, Sonya was my one bright light in what had become a dark, dark world. Sonya was an unusual lady. And I mean lady in the old sense. She was a very brilliant logician, but hid it so well that it had taken me months to discover that she was as good, or better, at logic design than I was. It was a humbling discovery to make. Sonya; now there was a subject that I could gladly dwell on for lengthy periods of time. I'd never asked her much about her background, and she had never offered any information. On the one or two occasions that I had attempted to breach the subject Sonya had changed the subject ... firmly. Sonya had come to work in my lab, as a technician, about five years before the virus had hit. For about a year before the virus came, she had made a threesome with my wife and I when we went to concerts, the theater, or for special dinners at our home. She was a marvelous conversationalist. Sonya could seemingly speak knowledgeably on almost any subject that could be brought up in polite company. As I now know, she can also speak with great knowledge an imagination on several subjects that can't be brought up in polite company. The Super-Greens were very curious about Sonya. As I was to find out, she was not one of the people who received the anti-viral treatment. She was the only untreated person that they knew of who had not succumbed to the plague. Sonya has many things going for her. I think that she is beautiful! She has a complexion that's somewhere on the reddish copper side of a rich deep brown and her hair was jet black, and wavy. She has large brown eyes, a beautiful face, wide-ish shoulders and very strong arms and hands. Her hips are a bit wider, without being fat, than any that I could recall in a woman of her size. Her breasts were slightly on the small size,but very delightful, just as King Solomon had indicated they should be. Sonya wouldn't have experienced any discomfort on an old fashioned hayride! She was honest, warm, and kind to those that she was close to. In all ways she was the type of person I liked to be around. We had reached an "understanding" about six years after the virus had hit. It was obvious then that the population would not be "cured", and it was equally obvious that we were deeply in love. Neither of us could stand the idea of having a member of the Super-Greens officiate at a civil wedding, and none of the Super-Greens were believers in God. Sonya and I are. As a net result we took vows together before our God asking for His blessing on us. However, to keep the Super-Greens from using either of us as a hostage against the other, we worked hard at looking like fairly good friends who were not serious lovers. Our choice of meeting places was somewhat limited. There were few, if any places that we wanted to go to that catered to "thinking" people. After all, the only other "thinking" people were the ones who had brought about this catastrophe. We couldn't get over the reasoning that had led to the development of the virus. You might get a kick out of hearing it; it goes like this: 1) Since people are the product of a chance occurrence, they have no more value than any of the other animals on planet earth; and perhaps no more value than any group of plants if taken as a whole. 2) If other animals, or entire plant groups, are threatened by human encroachment; the human encroachment must be stopped. 3) If the majority of people could not see this, then it was necessary that the fittest (those with the right mind set) should survive. Nietzsche, or more correctly Nietzsche's wife, as interpreted by Adolph Hitler, was right; only the superior people deserve to be in power. 4) But, Hitler was wrong because he caused suffering. So the majority of people had to become "harmless" to the environment, and there had to be a serious reduction in the number of people demanding products from the biosphere. Hence, docile and sterile simpletons who feel no pain. 5) In this way the earth could be saved from human damage. It was just like thinning out a deer heard that had grown too large to be supported on the local forage. I'd heard this line of reasoning from a drunken Super-Green one night. He had become depressed, had too much to drink and became talkative. It was as if he were trying to sell himself on the moral honesty of the choices that had been made. It was for reasons like this that we didn't wish to socially mingle with the Super-Greens. After all, would you have liked to go out for an evening on the town with Herr Hitler or Chairman Mao? As it was, we met either at my place, her place, or my hide-away. Fortunately, we didn't often go to her place. Brother, you talk about a weird house; this one gave me the "creeps". It was a small place, and I mean small, about five miles outside of town. The setting for the house was much like the setting for the movie version of "The Fall of the House of Usher" which starred Vincent Price. Her house, an earth sheltered dome that was almost completely under ground, was situated on a high spot in an old marsh. The dilapidated road that led to it had more hairpin turns and twists in it than a good grand-prix race track. It had to be that way to stay on relatively dry solid material. I did tell you that this was in a marsh didn't I? Anyway, the house was weirder on the inside than on the outside. The furnishings were sparse to the extreme. It had the feel of a place that had been designed by an engineer who was intent on getting the most utility out of every square foot of floor, wall, and ceiling. I suspect that a similar feeling would have been had in a World War One submarine. After all, how many times have you been in a house that had a combination living room/dining room/kitchen/bedroom and entry way? It was semi cramped with just the two of us in the "family room", for want of a better word. Due to my less than comfortable feelings about her house, I tended to find reasons for getting her over to my place for most of our times together. At least that was the general rule until we had found relatively sophisticated "bugs" planted in my house. Going Home Due to the "bugs", we had started spending weekends at my hide-away. Sonya was the only other person on earth who knew of my hideaway. Or so I thought. On two recent occasions, the security chief, Martin O'Donough, had called Sonya in for a long friendly chat. On both occasions she said that they hadn't talked about anything really important, but on both occasions I had found "bugs" hidden in new places in my car and home, and had found a small tracking transmitter hidden in the seat of my motorcycle. On our last outing, I found a small "bug" hidden in the heel of her work boots. My scanner picked it up right away. It was one of the burst telemetry types that stored about a minutes speech and then sent out an eight second spread spectrum digital burst. Not a cheap unit to make. Sonya said that she had no idea where it had come from. She had just gotten these new boots from the supply room. I was beginning to wonder if she was on my side after all. Was she telling the truth, or had she cut some sort of deal with O'Donough? I suppose that I should tell you about the hide-away. While I was still an undergraduate in college I had been an avid amateur geologist and spelunker. I probably enjoyed working my way through a cave as much as some of my classmates enjoyed fast cars! On one memorable trip back into the mountains I took what I thought would be a shortcut to a location that I wanted to look over. It was, as I was to discover, not a shortcut in any sense of the word. The U.S. Geological Survey map contained an error! There was a small ravine, or more accurately a thirty foot wide hundred foot deep slash, in the side of what looked like a steep hillside. This slash ran on for the better part of a mile. What had fooled the cartographers who had analyzed the aerial photographs to draw the map was the fact that this rift was so narrow, and that it "fishooked" over at the top so that from the air the valley could not be seen. It would merely look like a minor gully on the side of the hill. The discovery of this valley made me totally forget what I had been originally going to see. I descended the hillside and hunted for the entrance to the rift. It wasn't easy to find. After finding the opening I searched the rift. I discovered that some industrious, or perhaps demented, prospector/miner had blasted a mine shaft into the vertical side of one of the walls. He hadn't done this at ground level, but about thirty feet off the floor of the rift. The charred remains of his scaffolding lay as litter under the opening. Upon investigation, I found that the miner's tunnel opened out into several large galleries. One of these galleries intersected with a large natural cave that in turn intersected with an extremely fine aquifer. The aquifer fed a small sized river's volume of water to the edge of a natural underground waterfall, where the water plunged a good hundred feet. I had a hide-away with running water, and provision to generate electricity!Over the next few years I brought in materials and supplies to my secret place. I placed a small water turbine driven alternator in the stream at the waterfall to provide up to a modest ten kilowatts of electricity. The turbine alternator was so arranged that the inlet pipe could be swiveled into, or out of, the fast moving water. Most of the time it was out of the water to prevent the turbine from running. I also did some camouflage work, to make not only the mine entrance hard to find, but to also make the opening of the rift itself harder to find, and less inviting if it were found. Since this rift was on public land, I was reasonably safe. But to make sure I put up some official looking "restricted signs", just inside the valley leading to the rift entrance, warning that the area had been part off an abandoned biological warfare test site. By my estimates my fifteen years of packing things into my hideout had stocked it well enough to allow me to live for about five years in my rockbound home away from home. One of this rocky hole's best features was that having a hundred feet of rock over your head, and having running water through the cave area made it virtually impossible to detect my presence with anything other than a sharp operator using a far infra-red thermograph. And even then, the operator wouldn't notice much unless he knew that there was something there to find, and had a good idea of about where it was. I had even gone to the length of shielding the living area of the cave such that any generated radio noise from the use of electronics and computers would not be detectable from the surface, one hundred feet above my head. I was pretty well set. I believed that I had thought out every detail, and left no loose ends. Boy was I wrong! I had planned on neither the private ambitions of Martin O'Donough, our secret police representative; nor the Providence that brought me here to you. About a month before things came to a head, I was instructed that I was to no longer allowed touch the hardware, or original copies of the documents relating to my project. This was akin to telling a mason that he couldn't touch his square, compass, trowel or level, much less blocks, forms, and mud mix. The reason that I was given was that it was only fair that some of the younger engineers should have a chance to get some "hands on experience". They were young engineers, but they were brilliant and very experienced. They needed experience working with computer systems as much as I needed experience climbing through caves! I found this out with a little "test". I had purposely left a subtle problem in the way that external status bits in the superframe structure of the incoming digital data stream would cause interrupts to occur in the main processor. It really was a subtle problem, one that could not be truly demonstrated until the system was up and running. Its symptoms would be almost like random failures. Yet, these "technicians" and "inexperienced engineers" had found and fixed the problem in very short order! The Super-Greens were simply waiting until they were sure that they didn't need me any more before removing me. It was also about this time that Martin started to make small jokes about my trips back into the hills. His manner, and the words that he chose forced me to suspect that he knew about my hide-away, and my plans. He seemed to know that I was uncomfortable with what he was saying, and he took every chance to let me know that he was enjoying the situation. Now, if Martin had been some underling I might have been able to get him to back off a little. But as it was, Martin was the highest ranked secret police officer in our entire district. His comments, coupled with the fact that he had been talking with Sonya a lot as of late led me to one conclusion; Sonya had been talking about my one hope to get away from these vile people. Sonya had even started having lunch with Martin. How could she do this to me? With regards to our relationship, Sonya had been acting a bit "distant". She seemed to have a lot of things on her mind, and she wouldn't share them with me. She was even acting reluctant to spend time with me. For the last five years we had shared everything, and now she had secrets that she said I would have to wait to find out about. For the first time since the plague had done its dirty work,I felt completely alone! What do you do when the one bright spot in your life has gone out, and in so doing has taken with it all the hopes that you had cherished for years? What do you do when your best friend has, as far as you can tell, turned traitor? What indeed. I don't know about you, but I went home and got drunk! I know that it didn't solve anything, but the big glass of Haig & Haig and an evening of listening to the C# minor piano concertos of Rachmaninoff and of Amy Beach helped. I couldn't talk with anyone except my Lord, and He didn't seem to be talking back to me. I knew that my house was "bugged", and I didn't want to arrange for any "female companionship". This was, of course, available in the Super-Green's society. "Recreational" uses had been found for many of the beautiful, and brainless, general population. After all, if we're just products of nature, whatever feels good must be o.k.; right? But, what good is sex if it's only a matter of the physical and not a matter of the mind, heart, and emotions as well? I'm sure that my work suffered for the next few weeks. I needed an outlet for my frustrations and fears; and none existed for me. I'm afraid that I started to "hit the bottle". I know what you're thinking; it's a sin and it doesn't do any good. I know that now, and I knew that then, but what else could I do to reduce the strain that I was under? What would you have done in my position? I felt betrayed and lost. There was no escape for me. There was, to borrow from Sartre, No Exit. I was in my own private hell, and there was no way out save death; and death surely had to be coming soon. It was one evening while again listening to the second piano concerto of Rachmaninoff that I decided to act. I would make a run for my secret hideout, alone; and booby trap the entrance so that if, no,when they found me I would be alone and out of their reach. After all, I wasn't worth the trouble to drill a new tunnel through granite. They'd assume that I was dead, and I'd still have several months of life. If my ANFO explosive charges weren't calculated correctly, I'd at least take some of them with me! I made up my mind and stopped drinking alcohol. I still acted the same in the mornings so that they wouldn't know that I had decided to act. The last day, when I drove to the lab, I was pulling my bike trailer behind my car. It had been quite a while since I had gone back into the hills, and I was due to make a trip pretty soon if the pattern was to remain unbroken. The day went by relatively normally, if you can call having every move watched by all of those around you "normal". It was getting on toward quitting time when Sonya came over to my office and, indicating that she had noticed my bike behind the car and assumed that I'd be skipping supper. She invited me to join her for a supper picnic in her car. She said that she had brought dark bread, hard cheese, salami, and Irish Coffee. After thinking it over, I figured that I didn't have too much to lose. When we got to her car I took out a small pocket r.f. scanner/pico-wattmeter and started to sniff for bugs. She waited for me to look like I was satisfied with the results of the sweep and then said; "I can imagine how you are feeling right about now. But, you've got to trust me. The most important thing that you can do right now, for US, is to follow my advice to the letter. I can tell you a little bit, but the full explanation will have to come later tonight. I still love you very much, regardless of how I seem to have been acting over the last couple of months. "I had waited for her to finish speaking, and to try to decide if I could risk believing her. At first I said nothing. She knowingly smiled and passed me a slab of aged sharp cheese and a heel of the dark bread loaf, my favorite part of a loaf of bread. As we were eating she said; "You didn't know it, but Martin made a pass at me the second time he had me in for a friendly chat. I know that it is human nature to be less than objective when you are emotionally involved with a person; so I needed to find a way to keep him involved, and interested on both the emotional and professional levels. I had to bolster his ego, by running you down and praising him, and had something of value to offer him to make him think that he was getting useful information. Now, don't get angry with me when I tell you this. I know some things that you don't know, and in the final analysis you will realize that I did the right thing. But you won't have that understanding until later tonight. "It hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks, she must have told them about the hide-away. How else could Martin have been feeling so superior and dropping such accurate hints! What was she saying? "....had to tell them something to buy us time, so I've been slowly telling them about your hide-away. It was only as I started to provide Martin with information that he began to talk about when they were going to reach the point of not needing you. John, you can't go to the hide-away because they sent two men there to wait for you; and you can't go home because there are two more waiting there. Your only chance is to do exactly what I say, and trust me to get us out of this situation!" It was a late fall afternoon, and mist or fog seemed to be moving in and enveloping everything in an even gray fuzziness. As I sat in her car, I felt numb! There was now no place that I could hide. My car, with the trailer containing my dirt bike was useless with no place to go to. On top of that I didn't yet know if I believed Sonya or not. I could no longer deny that I still loved her. But I didn't know if I could trust her. But, what choice did I have? "John, here's what you have to do. Get in your car and take it over to the supply depot to get gasoline. Put the hose in the filler hole start the pump, and go to the back side of the building towards the restrooms. I'll meet you there and tell you what we're going to do." What could I do? I had no other option and I wasn't sure that her plan, whatever it was, would work. After all, where could we go? The Super-Greens controlled everything. How could we hide? I got in my car and slowly drove it over to the gas pumps, it was getting very foggy. I went around behind the building and got into Sonya's car. She started to drive to her house. It would only be a matter of time before Martin's men would follow us out to her place, and it would be all over. As I was morbidly going over the options that Martin had for terminating us I suddenly realized that the engine noises coming from Sonya's car weren't quite right. I looked up, and all I could see to the front or to the side, was fog; no trees, no road, no hood, just fog. I looked at her speedometer and it was edging 95 mph. "What are you trying to do, kill us?", I yelled. She looked at me, and in a calm and composed voice, said "Take it easy John, I've got it under control. I'm running on a form of auto pilot. I've surveyed the route that we're taking, and set up the tracking and control system that is driving the car. There's also a collision avoidance system built into the car itself. If we approach unexpected objects we'll stop, and as we get into the curvy sections, the car will automatically slow down to a point where we will have traction enough even in the curves." Even as she spoke I could feel the deceleration followed by the taking of a sweeping left curve. She was speaking the truth about the car. I can't say that I really remember the rest of that trip. I was frightened, and at the same time I was uneasy with the fact that Sonya seemed to take in stride so easily the magnitude of the control electronics that she had so flawlessly designed and built. It was as if she had said, "oh don't mention it, its just a little pie I made this morning"; but what a pie! As we approached her house, the lights came on, and the door opened! I was at the point of panic. She just giggled and said, "Don't be so nervous, we've got a good ten minutes before they can get here,and all the house is doing is responding to the commands that I just sent it from the car. I don't happen to like to walk into a dark house." The tone of her voice gave me confidence even if I couldn't tell you why. When we got inside, she shut the door, and directed me over to the couch against the outside wall, and under the window. "Do you want a drink?", she said, with a smile? "I'm having a small glass of wine to celebrate." I nodded in the affirmative, "What have we got to celebrate? We probably have about eight minutes before they get here, and I doubt that your house is capable of holding them off for more than a few minutes." While I had been talking, Sonya had gone over to the wall, opened a panel and adjusted what looked like a Rube Goldberg entertainment center set, or an insanely complex thermostat. It couldn't have been a entertainment center because all it did was produce a low humming sound. She was speaking again, "John, I've got a confession to make. I've been less than honest with you over the last few years. You know that I love you, and I know that I've shaken your confidence in me lately, but I can truly say to you, face to face, that I've done nothing to hurt you. I've only done those things needed to help you. Do you still love me?" All I could do was to nod my head yes. I still had the feeling that we would probably be dead within the hour, if we were lucky. I'd bet that Martin could make death take a long time if so desired. "John, I also have to tell you that I've lied to you about myself, for as long as I've known you; but for a good purpose. You see, if I had told you, or anyone else about my real purpose a lot of hard work would have been wasted. You see dear, I'm not an engineer or technician, I'm what you might call an anthropologist, and I'm just finishing, what you would call, my post doctoral work; I'm done with the project and am going home and want you to come with me." At this point I started to laugh. She had obviously been under too much strain for too long and had begun to live in a fantasy world. "Darling, yes, I still love you; although I must admit that you indeed had me concerned. But this bit about your going home and being an anthropologist is foolishness. You are an incredible engineer, not any anthropologist. We both know that there is no place on this entire earth that we can call home now, or can run to now. Our time is up." Her face took on a softer, gentler look than I had ever seen before; and her voice spoke volumes about the calm serenity that obviously went to the core of her being."John, will you marry me if we get out of this situation? Will you be happy as my husband, even if it means starting over again?" "Yes", was all I could say. She came over, I stood up and we embraced. She could see that I was still sure that we were going to be dead in the next few minutes."John, let me turn out the lights, I want you to see something."She killed the lights, and as my eyes got used to the darkness, I could see that the fog was gone, and the stars were beautiful. They were clearer than I had ever seen them before. She repeated again, "John, we're going home"; but if she said anything else, I didn't hear it, because I had just realized that what I had been looking at wasn't a full moon, it was the rapidly receding earth. * * * * * * * I again found myself in the present. My son had a contented smile on his face, and his friend's face had a look of wonderment about it. After all I was a person from a different world, even a brief look would show that my skin looked pale and pasty in comparison the the beautiful rich reddish copper brown skin of my son and his friend. As I reached out to tap the burned cinders out of my pipe I realized that there were two things in this tranquil scene that still kept it from being like my original home; the two suns in the sky and the purple, red, and brown of the vegetation here. At times like this I often wonder what has become of earth. But, my love and my life are now here, I am home. Going Home This is likely to be viewed as a return to my darker side - it certainly turned out much differently than I initially conceived it. I will be keenly interested in your feedback. As always, it is a work of fiction and all characters exist only within the confines of the story and my head. Enjoy! * The doorman cradled a sawed-off double barrel in his arms, swinging it my way as I approached the entrance. His eyes swept warily over me, not liking what he was seeing -- not the least being, I was armed...heavily armed and that he was assuming -- quite correctly -- that I was new in town. The rusty and begrimed barrels swung in my direction. "You got money?" he said in a gruff voice. I nodded and slowly reached into a haversack on my shoulder. Just as slowly, I pulled out a can of beans -- the label still un-faded and clean. His eyes went wide as I said, "I have more than just one." He nodded as he lowered the shotgun, saying with a little more respect. "No trouble now...we run a nice, respectable place here." I nodded, feeling his eyes on me as I went through the entrance, down a long dark corridor and emerged into a dim, smoke-filled room where in front of me a woman was bent over a table and a large, fat man was angrily thrusting his erect cock into her cunt. She was moaning in response, though if it was pleasure or pain, I couldn't tell. The part of me that hadn't been with a woman since last winter on the high plains of Wyoming roamed appreciatively over the parts of her I could see -- large, meaty breasts flattening out against the dirty surface of the table and long, well shaped legs and the moons of a firm ass. I tore my gaze away from the exhibition and focused on reconnoitering the room. Most of the room's light came from dozens of rows of old Christmas lights that spelled out the words, "The Step Right Inn" hanging on the wall above the long, authentic bar that ran along the far wall. Behind the bar was maybe the greasiest man I'd ever seen -- his very skin seemed to gleam and his hair almost seemed to drip with grease. He had it combed back into what my granddaddy would have called a "D.A." He frowned at me as he cleaned a glass with a rag almost as dirty as he was. Several men were scattered about the room -- sitting two and three at a table. In the corner I would have liked to have placed myself -- the one with the best field of fire and sitting in shadow, smoke emerged and the glint off something metal, like a shirt button or the end of a pistol barrel. I opted for the best table I could find against a wall and no one sitting closer than five feet away. Still too close for comfort, but one doesn't always get one's way. The bartender stared sullenly at me for a moment, apparently disappointed that I didn't come to the bar. Some of the crowd stared my way for a bit, but then turned back to their own business or eyed the couple fucking with a mix of amusement and envy. The woman's face was shrouded by thick and tangled locks of peppered hair. Her ragged fingernails clawed the tabletop as she moaned while the fat man sweated profusely -- his anger replaced by a blissful, almost idiotic look on his face. To spur some service, I reached into my haversack again...moving slowly, and drew out that can of beans again and then a larger one of sweet potatoes. The bartender's eyes widened but he made no move to come take my order. Instead he turned and glowered at the couple fucking, finally yelling in a high pitched voice, "Goddammit, bitch -- make that dumb farmer cum already. You got customers to wait on!" Several of the other men in the room chuckled at that, their laughter abruptly stopping as a deep, edgy voice rumbled from the shadowed corner, "Get your own ass in gear, Howard. You're making a paying customer wait and the bitch has two more to take care of after Wilbur there. Besides...you know how much Alice looks forward to Wilbur's big cock each month -- don't be hurrying her." Greasy Howard paled at the man's words and scurried around the bar and came to me. "Whatcha want?" he said, his hand hesitantly reaching out for the cans and then pulling back. "Whiskey if you have it and food -- cooked and clean," I replied. "We got moonshine up from Tennessee -- smooth stuff," he replied, "And we make a mean rabbit stew -- raise 'em right out back," Howard replied. He turned and looked at the shadows, "Got beans and sweet taters, Boss," he said. He raised a hand and I heard the calm tick of a hand held Geiger counter. "They's clean, too." The dark voice seemed to mellow as he said, "Pays for all the whiskey you can drink tonight and supper and breakfast. You got another clean can -- you can have a woman for the evening too...all to yourself." I nodded and pushed the cans towards Howard and said, "Fair deal on this...I'll think awhile on the woman." I heard a grunt of assent from the shadows and the bartender scooped the cans up and hurried away. He came back in a moment with a dirty glass filled with an almost clear liquid. After I took a sip, I wasn't worried about the dirt -- nothing was going to live in that white lightning. While I waited for my food, the fat man -- Wilbur began huffing and puffing -- increasing his thrusts while the woman keened with what sounded to me like pleasure. Certainly, she was now thrusting back to meet his cock. Several men began betting on how long it would take him to cum. I felt a tightening in my pants as my own cock began responding to the woman's deep moans. Something in her plaintive and clearly carnal moans touched me in a way I couldn't define. The table began scraping along the floor as the fat farmer really began throwing his meat into the woman's pussy and then both screamed as he began to cum and she threw her head back, hair still covering most of her face, but unable to conceal the sneer of pleasure on her lips. Several of the other men clapped or slapped their tables with their palms and a few chinks of metal -- mostly bullets were passed to an older man who grinned and held them up to the shadows across from me. A minute or two went by before Farmer Wilbur stepped back, making the woman groan as he withdrew what turned out to be a sizable chunk of flesh from her pussy with a very audible noise of sucking wetness -- his slowly shrinking shaft dripping with their combined juices. A minute more and the woman staggered up and wobbled to the bar -- moving with slightly bowlegged movements and I imagined that Wilbur's big dick wasn't the first she'd had today or would be the last. She took a sip from a glass offered by Howard and then wiping her mouth, turned and gazed around the room through thick strands of black and gray hair, displaying unashamedly, a mature and fine looking body to everyone in the bar. Large, pendulous breasts hung with some sagging on her chest -- thick nipples protruding prominently from wide aureoles. Her stomach revealed some age -- a few faint stretch marks over a mostly flat stomach -- showing off that small pooch that most women never shake after childbirth. Nice legs traveled upwards to end in a thick patch of black bush, currently split wide by swollen labia -- Wilbur's seed spattered and leaking from her spread open pussy. My cock lurched in my pants and I began to consider that maybe I could spare a can of food after all. She was a bit dirty -- like everyone here, including me, a bath would have done her good. Her hair was a mare's nest of tangles, hanging down over her face, obscuring her looks. And again, something about her seemed to speak to something deep within me. "Nick's next, bitch," the voice in the shadows barked, making her jump slightly. She nodded and in a voice almost too soft to be heard, replied, "Yes, Master." The woman walked to the table where the old man who'd won the bet was waiting, his cock already out. "How may I please you?" she murmured...both dread and anticipation in her voice. "I'd appreciate a good blowjob," the old man said, his voice rising with excitement. The woman nodded and slowly went to her knees and with movements born of long experience took him into her mouth -- slowly and luxuriously began to suck his semi-erect penis. They were both in profile to me and I inwardly groaned as I leaned more and more towards giving up another can of my precious supply. Even as my attention was mostly on the woman, I sensed movement from the shadows and out of the darkness emerged a lean, tall man with black hair and a wild, black beard. He was wearing biker's leathers over a T-shirt and jeans, a length of chain wrapped around his waist that didn't appear to be for looks and a holstered Glock automatic on his hip. He moved my way like a cat easing up on his prey. Unlike the rest of the men in the room, he was relatively clean. "You look like a man that appreciates a fine piece of pussy," he said, a toothy grin splitting his beard. "Mind if I join you?" I gestured towards another chair at my table, willing myself to relax even as I studied him for any sign of trouble. That's simply become a normal survival trait these last few years. He looked towards the woman on her knees, her heavy breasts moving ever so slightly as her head bobbed up and down on what was now a proud erection. The old man's face resembled the blissful look of Farmer Wilbur. The black bearded man sighed appreciatively and said, "Ayup, that bitch of mine is one fine fuck and she can about suck the life from a man. She's a natural born whore." He turned his gaze back on mine. "Offer still goes -- you want a woman all night -- cost you just a can of food. You can even have Alice there if you don't mind your pussy a mite used." I smiled and said, "Is that her name, Alice?" He laughed harshly and said, "Hell no, I don't bother remembering my bitches names -- they's all Alice to me...well, excepting one." He winked and said, "I got one that's special...maybe you'll see her before the evening's out." "Oh yeah? How much for the special one?" He snorted and said, "More than you can afford, stranger...less'n you want to part with that artillery there," gesturing towards the rifle slung over my shoulder -- one quick movement from resting in my arm and dealing more destruction than these folk could dream. "That's one of those M-142s, ain't it? I got checked out on them when I was in the Army." "Yeah, it is and no, I'm not looking to part with it. Maybe I'll just settle for Alice there," I replied. The older woman was now slowly deep-throating the old's man's cock, making him giggle like a kid as she tickled his dick with her tonsils. "Well, no harm in asking," the black bearded man replied, looking wistfully at my rifle. "So was you Army?" I shook my head and replied, "Navy." His eyebrows went up. "Oh yeah? Where was you when it all went to hell?" I sighed and said, "On a sub off the coast of China. The USS George Custer...a missile boat." Memories of our boat shuddering as each of its twenty-four MIRV missiles launched -- likely doing nothing more than adding millions more to the millions, maybe billions already dead, flashed through my mind -- Commander Vance's face pale and drawn as he ordered each missile's launch. "Goddamn -- reckon you did your part then." I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an accusation. "So, do you know who started the whole clusterfuck?" Shaking my head, I replied, "Not really. We got intelligence that it was Pakistan and India exchanging nukes and then Iran and Israel blew each other to hell and then maybe either the Russians or the Chinese got nervous and said, 'What the fuck,' and took out our eastern seaboard. After that, it was just a race to see who could hit the other guys the hardest." "And after," the black bearded man asked, leaning in, eyes full of interest. I shrugged. "We went silent and deep for a long time during the long winter as per orders. We had to sink three other subs that attacked us...a Russian for sure, a Chinese sub maybe and what we thought was a French submarine. It was almost two years later we made radio contact with the R.U.S." "H'mmph. I heard about that so called "Reconstituted United States." You think they're for real?" His eyes gleamed, anxious for knowledge. "Yeah -- they have control of the West Coast from Northern Mexico up past British Columbia and west into Idaho. Doubt if they get this far for decades though." He nodded, satisfied. "You come out from there?" "Yeah, Seattle. Five us started out together after we were discharged -- all of us wanting to find family." I sighed. "Been working our way east for nearly two years." Black Beard squinted and glanced around. "Is there more of you?" He tensed a little. I shook my head and replied, "Not anymore. Tomas died of a strange fever -- ugly, bleeding black boils erupting all over his skin, the fever burning his brain out -- he was singing nursery school songs at the end. We burned his body on the plains of Nebraska as a mixed herd cattle and buffalo watched us." Black Beard grunted and said, "Yeah, they call it Black Betty -- some said it was a souped-up version of that Bubonic Plague." "We lost Luchessi in a firefight with a raider gang near Sioux City. They got Luchessi at the outset when we walked into their ambush...afterwards, we left none alive. We didn't want to after we saw evidence that among their other sins, they'd reverted to cannibalism." My table guest frowned at that. "Understand -- we weren't walking the land as heroes meting out justice like some fucking movie. We tried to follow the credo live and let live. We...I saw a lot of things that made my blood boil -- abuse and rape and slavery..." I glanced over at the woman on her knees -- the old man's prominent adam's apple bobbing as he was approaching his climax. "But, it aint the old world, is it? We were all just trying to get home -- find our families." The dark man nodded and relaxed a bit. "Winer committed suicide when we reached the remains of Saint Paul -- just shucked his gear and jumped off a bluff into the Mississippi River. We'd known what we'd find -- folks along the way had told us the mushroom clouds had sprouted over Minneapolis-Saint Paul, but Winer insisted he'd find his family -- his eyes getting crazier ever day we got closer until the truth reared up to bite him on the ass. "I said goodbye to Nate Rafelson on the banks of the Wabash River -- up north of here. I planned to follow it south to home and he was going north into Ohio before striking further east towards Pittsburgh. I reckon I'll never see him again." I stopped then, not telling the black bearded fellow about giving Nate a copy of the directions to Vance's old vacation retreat and telling him I'd see him there hopefully in a year or two. We'd shook hands, Nate and I -- knowing we'd likely never see each other again. Parting from that tall, lean African American was tough -- of all our party, he'd been the most level-headed and reliable. After over a year and half on the road, I knew how to survive...with a little bit of luck, but I did miss my old crewmate and friend watching my back. "Goddamn, that's sure as hell something...walking all the way here to southern Indiana from Seattle," he said, sliding his chair back and standing up. "Hell, I'm gonna let you have Alice there for free tonight! Least I can do for a serviceman." We both turned to look at Alice as we heard her gobbling as the old man began to moan. A long string of jism dribbled from her mouth as he shot his load -- her throat working to swallow his sperm. She rose up as he finished, the dribble of semen running down her chin to splatter on her huge breasts -- nipples swollen like fat, ripe cherries ready to burst. Again, I felt my cock throb achingly between my legs. I looked up at the black bearded man and held out a can of tuna I'd palmed during our talk. "I appreciate that, but I like to pay my own way." He didn't take offense at my words -- instead he seemed to be on the verge of drooling as he eyed the still fresh looking can of fish meat. He reached out and took it from me, his hand trembling slightly. "Fuck me...for that you can have Alice all night long and tomorrow night too. I'll even have her take a bath first, get all the filth and jism off of her." The can disappeared into a vest pocket and he grinned down at me. He held out his hand and said, "Stranger, what be your name?" I took his hand and we both demonstrated we could give and take a hard squeeze. "I'm John," I replied. "Pleased to meet you, John. I'm Tom...Tom Johnson, but most folks call me Black Tom." I tried not to tense up at the name, but I reckon my eyes betrayed me or maybe my grip tightened up a bit too much. He grinned and said, "You heard of me?" As he released my hand, I replied. "Been hearing about Black Tom for weeks now. They say you rule everything around these parts." Black Tom rolled his eyes and said, "Well, maybe everything between what used to be Louisville and Cincinnati -- they're both just burned out ruins now. Mostly folks just know not to fuck with Black Tom. Remember that and we'll get along fine." He took pride in saying the words, you could tell he liked saying them, but it was also a warning to me. Very evenly, without a trace of hate in my voice, I replied, "I'm sure we'll get along just fine, Black Tom." We smiled at each other like two predatory sharks in the water and he nodded again and moved off, pausing to reach down and jerk Alice to her feet by her hair and whisper something to her. She turned her head my way and then whispered something back and then slowly shuffled towards a door behind the bar her voluptuous ass swinging enticingly while Black Tom bellowed at his bartender, "Go get Alice -- we still owe Chicken Al a fuck!" A middle aged fellow with streaked denim overalls turned at his name and grinned toothlessly at Black Tom while Howard looked at his boss with confusion for a moment, glancing at Alice as she passed by him before asking, "Um, which Alice, Boss?" Black Tom picked an empty glass off a table and slung it at Howard, narrowly missing him and snapped back, "Fuck, I don't care -- a cunt is a cunt -- get Red-headed Alice off her ass." Howard scurried out of the room while Black Tom joined another group of men and began playing cards. In a few minutes, a skinny young red-headed woman, naked as the day she was born, except for a pair of fire-engine red high heeled shoes, strutted out into the room and after being pointed towards Chicken Al, proceeded to go over and skin his dungarees off and mount his small erect cock. She was loud and vocal and unlike the earlier Alice, not completely convincing. Time passed. Howard brought me a large bowl of stew with some actually tasty meat and some vegetables floating in the thick broth, accompanied by a bowl of home-made biscuits. It was all I could do to not eat it greedily, savoring each bite and watching for signs of being tampered with. No matter what else might happen, I was glad it wasn't...it was the best meal I'd had since my friends and I had wintered in Eastern Wyoming in a village of folk that claimed to be a mix of Cheyenne and Sioux -- led by a black man who called himself Crazy Horse II. That had seemed so long ago, before Tomas had gotten ill and we'd lost him and Winer and Luchessi. It was hard to imagine that it had only been about eighteen months or so. People, all men came and went -- I gathered that most were locals who came to barter goods with Black Tom, some taking alcohol, others trading for sex or gambling capital. Over the next hour or so -- a few more Alices emerged from the back -- one was older than the first Alice -- short, brown hair and skinnier than the redhead. Another was a short, chunky girl -- maybe eighteen or nineteen -- about as old as my sister would be now if she was alive, with eyes that looked ten times as old. Going Home My heart ached to think about Pammy -- a bright, pretty teenager-- looking forward to high school when she and my folks had seen me off at the beginning of what was my last cruise. "Hey sugar, looking for a good time?" I looked up to see a naked black woman swaying slowly in front of me, dancing to some unheard music, an intelligent fire in her eyes. Large pert breasts bounced slightly and her long, lithe and muscled body almost gleamed with health, despite several scars on her shoulders and arms. She looked to be in her mid twenties and reminded me of a singer who'd been popular before it all went to hell. "Knock it off, Alice," roared Black Tom. "I done got Alice soaking in a tub for him. Go peddle that black ass elsewhere." Alice nodded and said back, "Yes, master!" She turned back to me and said, "Oh baby, you got THE Alice tonight...that gal can outfuck anything on the planet" She wrinkled her nose at me and laughed as she strutted away. "You are one lucky motherfucker!" In a bit, Black Tom strolled back over and sat down as I finished the last of my stew. "Hope you don't mind waiting. I told Alice to get good and clean for you." He leaned in and said in a low, conspiratorial voice, "You're in for a treat. When I found her, she was a tight-assed housewife, but by the time my crew got through gangbanging her the first time, she was screaming for more. She may be past prime to some, but she's a MILF...you remember that term? My Alice was born to be a cockslut whore!" He reared back his head and laughed like it was the biggest joke in the world. He called for more drinks at my table and I let him talk -- mostly bragging about his setup. For a stretch of maybe seventy or eighty miles along the Ohio River he was the king man -- not much different from those butchers that had killed Luchessi. He told me how he'd been a bartender in a rough bar in Cincinnati before the end of things and when the government collapsed, he'd organized some of the lowlifes that hung out with him into a gang of raiders and thugs. "Like a fucking Viking raiding party, we was!" he proudly proclaimed. Now Black Tom had several establishments like this strung out over his domain, a combination king and pimp. Strongmen kept his peace and continued to raze the countryside -- capturing new women for his prostitution racket and for his personal pleasure, as well as anything of value. Locals mostly farmed or raised livestock -- paying tribute to him to be left alone or to feed their various needs for vice. Part of me wanted to lean over and pull my K-Bar from its scabbard and cut his fucking throat while part of me anxiously awaited the arrival of Alice -- I found my gaze often drifting towards the door behind the bar. A commotion came from outside and I felt him begin to tense, noting that Howard's hands dropped below the bar and then six really nasty looking customers came in, hauling large sacks with them and two weary looking teenage girls on leashes, their blonde hair stringy and dirty and running nearly down to their waists. Both wore torn and ragged dresses -- torn to reveal nearly identical small and pert tits. This group unlike the grungy customers so far, looked downright dangerous...as dangerous as the man sitting next to me. They appeared to be road weary, but very pleased with themselves. "Hot goddamn," crowed Black Tom. "Them's my boys -- my best crew back from the road -- went down to Tennessee for a spell!" He stood up and said, "I'll introduce you later, John. And I'll get a fire lit under Alice's ass -- not that she'll need much of one -- got a pussy hotter than hell!" Off he went, roaring a greeting to his comrades, giving each one a bear hug and then roaring with delight as they pulled various prizes from their bags. I saw electronic parts and canned foods and the whole place went silent when their leader, a swarthy looking fellow with a broken nose, pulled two full pints of Jack Daniels from a sack -- prompting Black Tom to order the African American Alice to give him a blowjob on the spot. Moments later, Black Tom's voice rocked the rafters as he exclaimed, "Really are fucking twins?" He was like a child on Christmas as he examined the new girls, ripping the remnants of their dresses from them and laughing as they blushed from head to toe while a couple of dozen men ogled their nubile bodies. Finally, he had Howard lead them away, pausing to slap on of them on the ass, making her cry out fearfully which led to an amused laugh from most of the crowd. Black Tom's face was animated as he moved among his crew before he announced to the entire room, "By God, I'm proud of my boys! Tonight, each gets a turn with my special little pretty!" He eyed me and called out to me, "Hell, John, I might let you have a taste too if Alice ain't enough for you!" The room cheered and as they cheered, his crew each cast eyes my way, sizing me up appraisingly -- their leader studying me closely as a grinning Black Tom whispered in his ear. I began to feel trouble peeking over my shoulder. Not for the first time in the last few weeks, I wished I had Rafelson here to watch my back. As the hubbub died down, with Howard busy serving drinks and the Alices working hard, my Alice came slowly strutting out of the back. She looked a lot cleaner -- her body lush and glowing with sexuality. Black Tom stepped up and talked to her, his hands idly wandering over her hairy pussy -- not so much because she aroused him, but because he wanted to remind her of who owned her. Her hair had been washed and some of the tangles combed out, but it was still an immense mane of peppered black hair obscuring most of her face. She nodded as he talked and then he returned to his crew and she began walking my way -- no longer so bow legged, but confidently strutting up to me as a hunting cat stalks up towards its prey. Her large breasts swayed hypnotically, nipples growing larger as if the prospect of fucking me truly excited her. My eyes couldn't help but be drawn downwards to her thick bush, already divided by a wide gash of pink, her labia flowering from her boss's attention and perhaps more. Alice strolled up to me, tongue rolling over lush, full lips and said in a voice that touched me deep inside. "Hi, sweetie -- they told me your name is John. Everyone calls me Alice, but you can call me Carol if you want to." As she spoke, her hands moved to brush her wild hair back, revealing her lovely face and I found myself looking into the clear, blue eyes of my mother. # Two days after we docked in Seattle, I went to Commander Vance and told him I was going home. The man -- not more than forty-five years old but who's once black hair was now a shock of white and who looked twice his age nodded and said, "Son, you're not the first to come ask me. Are you sure? All the reports say it's all gone insane out there." I nodded and replied, "Yes, sir. Whatever else...I have to know. If Mom and Dad are..." I paused, my voice choking a bit. "If my family's dead, I can deal with that, but I cannot stand not knowing...at least without trying to find out." I don't think a moment since the war had begun had I had a true moment of peace of mind. I was haunted by the faces of my mother and father and my kid sister. We had always been a pretty close knit family even though through my teenage years my father and I had been pretty much on the outs. After the Pakistan Incursion, I'd given up my plans to attend college on a football scholarship, desiring to enlist and defend my country, barely able to agree to wait until I'd turned eighteen. For Dad, it was a bitter pill. He'd worked hard in a sawmill in our southern Indiana town his whole life, never having reached high school. He was a weary and worn man by the time I was a teenager and me passing up the chance to go to college to go fight in an unpopular war just about killed him. Mom had been my greatest supporter, carrying on a tradition that seemed to go back to childhood. I was truly Mom's favorite and as I'd grown into a teenager I'd become a surrogate husband in many ways. It was I who sat with Mom during church services -- Dad being an avowed agnostic. Mom dragged me to many functions in his place when he complained of work tiring him too much to go out. Mom was fairly religious and went to many workshops and church sponsored concerts and lectures and I went with her -- not caring about where or what we were doing, but just happy to be spending time with my mother. In truth, I'd had a bit of a crush on my mother -- she was, after all, the best looking mom on Exeter Street -- the fantasy of most of my friends who unanimously voted her their favorite MILF of all time. Long black hair, often wound up in a pony tail or a thick bun, those brilliant blue eyes and a body that even her dreary, conservative dresses could not disguise as being anything but awesome. It was no wonder I enjoyed spending time with her...on those 'dates' as she called them, I could pretend that I was her boyfriend or even her husband and I cherished those moments more than anything else. I sometimes felt guilty, lying sweaty in my bed at night having masturbated about my mother, but I couldn't stop. It wasn't until I was in the Navy and had seen much of the world and lost my cherry (and for a while, my heart), to a little Filipino hooker, that I was able to get past my lewd thoughts for my mom. Commander Vance took my file out of a file cabinet behind him in his tiny office and opened it. He read silently for a moment. "Well, if anyone can survive, you're as likely a candidate as any. I'll assume Gantry taught you well?" I smiled and said, "Yes sir. I'm not a SEAL, but I'm the next best thing or at least Bosun Gantry says so." My job in the old days was electrical systems repair. I'd performed maintenance on those nasty looking tall missiles. Once we'd launched them, I'd been reassigned duty under the meanest son of a bitch on the boat -- Bosun's Mate Leo Gantry -- a death dealing SEAL team leader. Over the next two years, he'd trained many of us in as many skills of the commando profession as possible. It had helped to pass the time those long months at sea and it had been Commander Vance's hope to hone us into instruments that could survive whatever challenges lay ahead.. Vance sighed and said, "Consider yourself discharged, son. We'll equip you as best we can and who knows, maybe your people are fine. I'll give you the firepower to give yourself a chance to find out." He stood and shook my hand. His voice was thick with emotion and pride. "Good luck, sailor." Two days later, I was outfitted and ready to go. I wouldn't be leaving alone. There were five of us that were determined to get back to our families. As he had promised, Commander Vance's had Boson's Mate Gantry equip us with everything possible to help us get home. The evening before I left, Gantry laid out my equipment -- lightweight, but highly nutritional rations, a Colt 45, K-Bar knife and, "My favorite toy from the late and great Department of Defense," growled Gantry -- a short and wiry man in his thirties -- head shaved bald, choosing not to hide the scar from the Pakistan Incursion of 2018. "The M-142 Plasma rifle." He handed me the compact and lightweight rifle and grinned at me as he added, "Or as I like to call it -- 'The Finger of God." It had been in use for three years before the war -- to be honest, I'm not sure of the physics -- all I knew was that it fired short bursts -- bullets if you will, of high energy plasma akin to lightning that at short range could tear lethally through a man and at longer distances, injure and paralyze him long enough to deal with him with more conventional methods. Best of all -- it used a solar charger to work -- no ammo required. I would be carrying two chargers with me as I headed East. Gantry also handed me a satchel of "party favors" as he called them. Small, lightweight mines and explosive packs that while appearing tiny, packed massive punches. He hefted a small block of C-19 that he could comfortably in his palm. "This shit can take out a large building -- set a trip wire up to a detonator and you gotcha a A-1 deterrent to anyone following you!" He grinned evilly as he packed three small blocks into the satchel. Going east with me were Marine Sergeant Tomas who'd left a wife and three daughters down near Austin, Texas, Winer and Luchessi, both from Minnesota and Rafelson who's wife had given birth to their son three weeks before we began our last cruise -- he was hellbent on returning to Pittsburgh to find them. The morning we were to leave -- heading east with a R.U.S. patrol to the borders of their domain, Commander Vance took me aside and handed me a map wrapped in heavy plastic. "You can use this, sailor...John, isn't it? Or you can throw it away or give it to the others." I looked at it curiously, turning it over. It appeared to be a roadmap with handwriting in black marker. "Sir?" Vance looked down at it and said, "When the wife and I first started out, she inherited from her grandfather a hunting camp in the western part of West Virginia, way the hell back in the middle of nowhere -- a cabin with a natural spring underneath. It was already pretty formidable as a hideout retreat and we built it up some into a decent vacation home and as a place, well, just in case we ever got stupid enough to do what we did." He looked at me with eyes that had known terrible knowledge for far too long. "It has its own solar power generator and enough dry/can goods to feed an army. If...you find your family or even if you don't, it'll make a hell of a place to live and maybe start over..." He left the rest unsaid. I was nearly speechless and stammered, "Sir...I can't. Maybe your family is there, maybe they got out." Vance held up his hand to silence me. "I spoke to Jenny when we surfaced that last time just before it suddenly went to hell. She was in our house in Baltimore two hours before D.C. got taken out." He made a pushing motion with his hand. "Put that map someplace safe and use it if you can. I won't ever go back. I'll try and get on with my life here if I can." He looked off away past the dock where the Custer was tied up and suddenly I realized how fragile his own hold on life was...how heavily things must be weighing on him. He looked back at me and shook my hand. In a thick voice, he murmured, "Good luck, sailor. Find your family." He turned and walked away, heading for the gangplank. I never saw him again. With the others, we climbed aboard a Hummer Mark 9 and with several other vehicles started out on a long range R.U.S. patrol. We rode with them as far as Lewiston on the Washington-Idaho border and then struck east on foot across the Bitterroot Mountains, working our way across neglected mountain roads towards our fates never imagining the losses we would take. After parting ways with Rafelson, I made my south, following the Wabash until it emptied into the Ohio on the border of Illinois and Indiana. I turned east then and began to follow it upstream. Although it teemed with wildlife -- waterfowl and more fish than I could ever remember, the great river looked haunted -- rarely walking the span of more than a mile without seeing the ruins of some great river barge jammed against a bank or hung up on a sand bar or seeing the broken wreckage of a highway or train bridge, severing the link between Indiana and Kentucky. Two weeks later I finally came home. What was once a small town of maybe three thousand was now a mostly burned out ghost town. Sticking close to shadows, I worked my way across town -- abandoned cars and debris littering the streets. My stomach tightened as I came across more than a dozen skeletons on the steps of what had been my high school -- badges gleaming on the ragged cloth of two skeletons. My eyes widened as I read a nameplate, Claus. Frederick Claus had been the chief of police here longer than I'd been alive. My eyes skittered across the signs of a nasty firefight...the limestone steps scarred with gouges from bullets. With growing dread, I made my way down Exeter Street where my family had lived. A prickling sense on my neck hinted that I wasn't alone -- that there was at least one set of eyes peering at me as I walked along, my M-142 at the ready. I sensed that they weren't a threat, but simply watching me to see what I would do. I reached my house, my heart beating anxiously even though I cannot say I was shocked to see it looking abandoned -- front door broken -- still hanging from the lower hinge. I walked up the sidewalk, the yard's grass was knee high and choked with weeds -- a ball of pain lodged in my throat as I recalled countless days mowing the yard while Mom worked on her hands and knees in her flower beds -- conjuring feelings of nostalgia and a little horniness as I recalled Mom's lush butt weaving in the air. As I reached the front porch I could see the remnants of sandbags up in front of the bay windows framing the door. A skeletal arm reaching from inside the house was draped over one pile of sandbags. My blood ran cold as I looked around the porch noting all the bullet holes in the wood siding around the windows. Taking a deep breath I stepped inside to find my once familiar living room looking like both a bomb had gone off and a refuge for wild animals...animal scat littering the room. To emphasize its new status, a huge yellow tom-cat looked up from a mildewed cushion from the old sofa and hissed at me before springing up and out through a window. I found myself alone with the rest of the skeleton -- remnants of an old chambray shirt and paint splattered trousers fluttering around the bones -- many of which were broken or shattered. Next to the skull which was partially caved in were a broken pair of eyeglasses and I gave a soft moan of pain as I spotted one earpiece wrapped in weathered duct tape. I'd found my father. Mastering my despair, I slowly searched the house, finding it looted and wrecked from top to bottom -- some furniture smashed -- some missing -- clothes now scattered and rotting across the floors. A larger version of the family portrait I still carried in a waterproof pocket had been slashed to ribbons. There was no sign of the rest of my family. I admit, I huddled in my old bedroom for a while, sitting against the wall on the ruined remnants of a mattress and cried for a bit. Finally, I wiped my face and got up and got on with what I knew I had to do. I found an old, stained blanket and went downstairs and gently moved my father's remains into it. I carried them outside to the back yard -- once his meticulously tended pride and joy and now a riot of weeds and wildflowers. I found a shovel with a broken handle and dug him a grave, spending most of the afternoon providing him a final and proper resting place. Afterwards, I knelt there for lord knows how long...considering my father and myself. We'd never been friends. We'd never been close. Maybe it was because he'd thrown himself into his work or it was the generational differences...he and his Generation X bullshit. Maybe it was simply I'd been closer to my mother, preferring her loving company over his gruff, practical ways. All I knew was that he was dead and any chance I'd had of saying anything to him -- of making things right, was gone. "He went down fighting, you know. You'd of been proud of him." I was rolling and coming up with the Colt in my hand before he'd finished the second sentence. I was shocked by my complacency -- stunned that I'd allowed someone to catch me with my guard down. It was an old man, standing near the corner of the house -- rail thin body swimming in ragged and dirty overalls. He was carrying a piece of wood with three nails pounded through it, but he held it low, his other hand raised in a gesture of peace. "Yes sir...Don gave them raiders a good fight, must've killed five before they shot him and bashed his head in." The old man -- hair gray and stringy with milky blue eyes seemed to stare right through me as if he was reliving the fight. "You'd of been proud of your father." Going Home His words hit home. "Do you know me?" I blurted out, slowly lowering my firearm. The old man grinned, showing me a mouthful of rotted and broken teeth. "Course I do -- had you in my algebra class...almost twice 'cause you about failed, mooning over Diane Foreman." Sudden recognition was followed by sudden shock as I realized that this burned out husk of a man was my high school algebra teacher -- Mister Williams. I rushed him, almost panicking him as I wrapped him in a bear hug -- glad simply that there was someone alive from my own life. I spent two days with him, hearing his story as he wandered in and out of lucidity. He was vague on whether anyone else was still in town. He survived on crops growing wild and the occasional cat he managed to kill with his improvised weapon. He offered me both hope and anguish in his rambling words. "It was about a year after the bombs fell that they came. We'd managed to survive the winter...those who stuck with the town, your mother and father and sister amongst them. We pooled resources and fought off the occasional bandits before, but then came this bunch. They had guns and were organized and hit us without warning. Most folk holed up in their houses like your family did -- a bunch made a last stand at the high school. We killed a bunch, but there must have been at least a hundred of them and they were vicious. Your daddy was one of the last to fall. He took five of them with him before he got hit. He was wounded...bad, but they took their time beating him to death." "Did they have a leader -- was there a name? Did their leader kill my dad?" I'd asked as I'd turned a skewered cat over, roasting over a low fire in my camp. Mister Williams looked embarrassed and replied, "No -- never caught his name -- evil looking fella -- even more than the rest -- big, black beard like those Civil War re-enactors used to have. He was too busy with your mother and your sister. Stripped them naked and made Pammy watch while his men raped your mother over and over again." Huge tears ran down his face. "I was watching from the shadows...I'm sorry I couldn't do nothing -- your mother moaning and Pammy sobbing like a baby on that bearded bastard's knee, him laughing to beat the band. Come morning, they put them both on leashes like dogs and led them out along with all the goods they could carry." My old teacher leaned over and patted my leg. "I'm sorry, John. I always hoped they didn't suffer too long before they died." We didn't say much more that night. I sat watching and feeding the fire until dawn broke. I packed up and asked Mister Williams, "Any idea where they might have gone -- especially the bearded one?" Mister Williams paled. East, up the river -- there's a big bunch of raiders running things. Don't go messing with that black bearded son of a bitch, son. He's a mean one...the devil himself." I rucked up my pack and slung my rifle on my shoulder and patted the old man on the shoulder. "That's alright. I've met the devil a few times already. He's the one that should worry." I sat out upriver and never saw Mr. Williams again. I slowly worked my way east, running into others as I went -- hearing and seeing about the efforts of raider gangs as I went. I started to hear one name over and over -- the strong man who made a lot of survivors afraid...his name was Black Tom. I made no trouble, but kept an eye out for Mom and Pammy. Black Tom had a penchant for female slaves for prostitution and as I made my way through settlements, I kept a sharp eye out for the survivors of my family even though I kept hearing that his slaves tended not to last all that long. I wasn't worried though -- he was a dead man, living only on borrowed time if I found out he'd taken my mother and sister. # For a moment, I could only gawk, trying to keep the surprise from my face even as my mother's eyes widened as she somehowrecognized me through the dirt and grime and my scruffy beard. I think, given another moment or two, I'd have pulled my M-142 and opened up on Black Tom and the others, but Mom, moving swiftly, was in my lap, straddling me and mashing her mouth against mine while her arms went round my neck and firmly held me in place. I opened my mouth in surprise and was even more surprised when Mom thrust her tongue between my lips and any noise of shock or dismay was squelched before they came out. I heard vague chucking from the bar and Black Tom roared, "Don't fuck him to death, Alice. I like this boy!" Mom gave a great laugh as she broke the kiss and hunching against me, pressed my face against her immense breasts. As my mind tried to process all this, a part of me noted that I still had a hard-on, my body reacting to the luscious naked body atop me. Mom's lips pressed against my ear and in a whisper, she said, "Don't do anything, John -- not yet. You'll get us all killed." Mom returned to kissing me, feeding me her tongue and I couldn't help but respond, my tongue dancing with hers, feeling thrills I'd never experienced with other women. It was wrong, but goddamnit, it felt so good! Mom broke the kiss and again hugged me to her lush body, her lips kissing their way from my neck to my ears. Her voice whispered harshly, "I'm your bought and paid for whore, so be touching me, son! Don't do anything to make them suspicious." When I didn't respond, Mom tightened her hips against my thighs and softly hissed, "Grab my tits, John! Play with my fucking breasts!" Slowly, like a man drugged, I brought my hands up and grabbed hold of huge handfuls of soft breast flesh. Her nipples throbbed madly against my palms and she moaned in response, "God yes, baby, Suck my titties -- make Momma feel good!" My mind reeled as I heard my mother use such language -- I'd never even heard her say 'hell' or 'damn' when I was a kid. I moaned as she pressed my head down to one of her huge, quivering breasts, the nipple looking so thick and meaty itself as I opened my mouth and took it inside, running my tongue over it. Mom hunched against me, her hands slipping into my shirt, ragged nails sliding over my dirty skin, shivering as I suckled at my mother's breast for the first time since I was a baby. Finally, she pulled my head back up and tilted her neck back, rolling her head as my tongue fluttered across her skin, finding its way up to her ear. "Mom, I can take you away." Mom moaned as if those words pleased her. "Yes, you can fuck Momma all night, baby," she said loudly as she dry humped my crotch. In my ear, she whispered, "You do know they're going to try and kill you?" I nodded as I nuzzled her breasts again. As I mouthed her other nipple, I said softly, "What's the plan?" My face was once again pressed into her deep cleavage and I caught a whiff of something that took me back to my childhood -- maybe to a moment when in pain or upset, my mother had held me to her bosom in my youth. "I'm to hold off fucking you for a bit, then start sucking your cock while they get into position. They figure between my mouth and Pammy, you'll be distracted and they'll cut your throat or blow your head off -- taking you while I make you cum. I've -- they've done it before." Mom kissed me again and then lifted her ass up and rotated so she was sitting in my lap facing the others. I kneaded my mother's tits while she gave me an incestuous lap dance -- her full ass cheeks rubbing deliciously against the bulge in my pants while my lips nuzzled her ear and whispered, "Pammy...Pammy's alive and here?" Mom leaned her head back, exposing her neck to my love bites and barely moving her lips, replying, "She's Black Tom's special toy...she's...oh God, it's hard to explain." As I fondled and kissed my mother's body, allowing her to take my hand and lead it to between her legs, I studied the crowd nonchalantly -- some staring at us with envy and avarice, others busy with Alices of their own and some of Black Tom's ravager crew slowing moving into place around us. I could feel Black Tom's eyes studying us intently, but dared not look even as I slid two fingers into Mom's pussy -- finding her wet and steaming hot as I made her moan while I sucked on her neck. Mom suddenly tensed up and I imagined that she'd been given a signal from Black Tom because she slithered from my lap onto her knees and began undoing the fly of my pants. I spared a glance towards Black Tom only to see him disappearing into the back and then Mom was fishing my cock out, her hands feeling incredible as she stroked it and breathed, "Oh God...so big and lovely," before opening her mouth wide and sliding her lips over the head. I clamped my jaws together -- a moan of delight hissing between clenched teeth as I glanced down to see my mother slowly slide her lips down my shaft -- her tongue maddeningly swirling over my erect member -- almost too distracting as I tried to keep track of the five men now sitting at tables just a few feet away. My attention was partially diverted as the entire bar broke into applause as Black Tom returned, leading a young woman inside by a leather leash. She too was naked -- like all the other women, wearing a glittering, silver pair of high heels, accentuating the curve and shapeliness of her long legs. Long and clean blonde hair the color of straw, cascaded down her back, parted in the middle and framing her lean face and electric blue eyes that seemed to energize as the crowd hooted and crowed. She was tall and lean with high, full breasts, capped with hard nipples pierced and joined by a thin gold chain. She preened and turned to let all see her shapely, firm buttocks and her obviously aroused pussy, bare as the day she was born. Her tongue peeked out as she turned and grinned and winked at everyone as Black Tom led her out from behind the bar and into the room proper. She exuded sheer sexuality on a level I'd never seen in a woman and I could feel a moment's insane lust flare within me despite that in this carnal creature I recognized the innocent little sister I'd last seen maybe five years before. Men reached out and caressed her -- copping feels of tits and ass as she was paraded around the room by Black Tom. He approached us and yanked her forward to show her off to me. "Did I lie, John?" He said laughingly. "My offer's still good -- her for a night...hell, three nights in exchange for your rifle." He jerked the leash and added, "Give him a little taste, there, Pammy." My head swirled as if I'd been on a weeklong drunk as I watched my sister lean forward, cupping her tits as if offering them to me while all along Mom continued to show me that she'd become an accomplished and talented cocksucker. Then Pammy was squatting down and touching Mom on the shoulder and I thought my cock would explode in the suddenly cool air as Mom let me slip from her mouth and she turned and gave her daughter a soul kiss, tongues swirling madly for a moment before Pammy ducked in and licked the tip of my cock, drawing off a stringer of precum that she immediately shared with Mom before Black Tom yanked my sister back onto her feet with a flick of his wrist. "What'ya say, John? Hell, I'll give you Pammy and the Alice of your choice for those three days and you can fuck yourself blind." It took me several seconds to have the wherewithal to shake my head, as Mom resumed giving me the most soulful head of my life and reply, "Mo-um, Alice is more than I can take as is...gotta, oh, God, pass!" Black Tom grinned and shrugged and I watched as a look passed between him and his crew as he turned and led my sister back towards the bar. All were tensing up -- their attention divided between watching Mom fellate me and Black Tom leading Pammie back to the front of the room, where she climbed atop a table and spread her legs. The leader of his ravaging crew grinned and dropped his pants to the floor and with my little sister undulating her hips in anticipation, he climbed atop her and began to brutally fuck her. As Pammy's wails of pleasure wafted through the air, Mom's efforts in sucking my cock increased in intensity, her eyes gazing up at me with a mixture of fear and lust and pure excitement, her tongue rolling madly over the head of my cock as her cheeks hollowed out as she sucked me harder, making me squirm and roll in my seat while those watching us were literally on the edge of their seats. I spared a glance to Pammy, almost in shock as she gleefully and skillfully rolled her hips around, meeting the thrusts of the hairy, skinny man atop her, her moans spurring him on. Before returning my full attention to Mom, I shot a glance towards Black Tom whose attention was divided between enjoying his man fucking Pammy and watching Mom suck me. I was twitching and moaning in my chair as Mom bobbed up and down on my cock, slobbering saliva and precum down her chin, drawing amused chuckles from onlookers. I took a gamble and as I shook with pleasure, surreptitiously keyed the power switch on the M-142. Mom helped distract my actions by moaning loudly with a mouthful of cock while her hands clawed upwards on my chest. I could fee the pressure building in my cock and balls, my moans growing louder -- my head swimming with so many emotions and needs -- trying to accept that this was my mother sucking my dick -- that my sister was moaning like a cock-filled slut some twenty five feet away and that five men were rising to attack me. I cried out as I felt myself begin to cum and the world became a series of simultaneous events being experienced in minute flashes. *Mom's eyes widened as I shot my load into her mouth... *Five men moved as one -- handguns and long, wicked knives rising in their hands... *A flicker of my right arm brought my M-142 into play, my finger tightening on the trigger as I swung it in a wide arc around me... *Bringing a forty-five revolver to bear -- a man's head exploded as a bullet of plasma intersected it, spraying blood everywhere... *Mom's mouth slipped away from my cock as my second or third burst of hot semen splattered across her face as she fell back and down... *A man fell back on a table, collapsing it as he wrapped his arms around his stomach, trying to hold his fried guts from spilling out from another plasma bullet... *A line of fire streaked across my cheek as a bullet narrowly missed removing my head... *Black Tom raised his Glock, fire leaping from the barrel as he squeezed the trigger... *Another shot of semen shot from my cock to splatter on Mom's face and breasts as she fell towards the ground... *I began a return sweep of fire, catching a third man in the face with a plasma bullet just as he began a downward stroke with a long knife... *I heard a yell of triumph and looked to see a man begin to squeeze off a round from another forty-five automatic when he was thrown back as bullets exploded against his chest and realized Mom had somehow undone the holster for my Colt and had stolen my pistol... I was standing now, Mom kneeling at my feet -- cock still jerking as I shot the last of my wad. No one was standing around me and I brought my rifle to bear on Black Tom only to feel like someone hit me in my right arm with a ball bat. My hand flexed as if I'd been shocked and I dropped my rifle as I was knocked back against the wall. Laughing, Black Tom picked up the M-142 and aimed it at me. "Motherfucker, you did a lot more damage than I'd expected, but it's worth this. He lowered the barrel towards my crotch. "Wonder what one of them plasma things would do to a man's business." The world slowed to a crawl -- people squalling and vacating the building in slow motion. I tried flexing my fingers, but they didn't work. I wasn't wounded -- the Kevlar fabric saw to that, but my arm was nearly numb from the impact -- painful tingles rippling up and down my arm. I glanced at Mom -- now covered in my semen and the blood of others. Pammy was screaming wordlessly as the man who'd been fucking her, climbed off and began walking my way with a large K-Bar knife in hand, face glowering as I supposed he was pissed at losing so many people. Black Tom raised the barrel back to my chest and shook his head. "Naw -- I like you too much. You get it fair and square while you're looking." He glanced at Mom who looked up at us both horrified, her fingers pulling the trigger of an empty weapon. "Now, Alice -- I might just jam this thing up her twat and see how she likes it, but first you..." Black Tom pulled the trigger but nothing happened as I stepped up to him, drawing my own blade with my working hand, as I moved. As I drove my K-Bar into his chest, I said, "Thought you got checked out on them, asshole -- palm-print trigger lock, remember?" I twisted the knife, tearing through heart muscle while catching my rifle with tingling fingers as Black Tom fell, bringing it up to aim at the approaching raider, a part of me amused as hell that we were both ready to kill each other with our cocks hanging out. "Fuck you, too," I muttered as I pulled the trigger and sent him to join the rest of his comrades. I scanned the room for additional trouble but only dead or wounded or those trying to crawl out were visible. The big doorman peeked through, his scattergun at the ready, but I pointed my rifle at him and said, "Do you want to be dead or the new owner of this shithole?" and he faded quickly back down the hallway. I rushed to Mom and pulled her to her feet, crushing her mouth for a brief and passionate kiss, not caring that I could taste my own seed in her mouth. "Go see to Pammy," I said and Mom stared up vacantly for a moment and then nodded wordlessly and turned to go hug her daughter. Robotically, I moved around the room, making sure everyone was dead -- trying not to think as I slit the throats of three of Black Tom's henchmen including Howard, draped stunned over the bar. I tried not to allow myself to notice both the redheaded Alice and African American Alice lying dead -- caught in the crossfire. Mom had Pammy sitting up -- my sister's face etched with horror as she stared around the room. I could hear voices outside -- cries of curiosity and alarm and knew we wouldn't have much time. "Get dressed -- get some clothes on Pammy -- we're got to move." Mom turned to look at me -- the shock of the last few minutes finally sinking in. "Go...go where? Do what?" She began to shake and as she began to lose it, my sister seemed to be absorbing her fear and began a low keen. I was on them in a second, my sister cowering in fear -- not recognizing me which made my heart ache. I reached out and stroked Mom's cheek and said, "Go get dressed -- dress for hiking a long ways -- boots and warm clothes -- strip the dead if you have to, but get going." I gave Mom a shove and when she and Pammy still hesitated, I reached out and slapped Mom hard on the ass -- making the sudden quietness of the room ring with the sound of flesh striking flesh. That got Mom moving and while she dragged Pammy through the door behind the bar, I checked the dead for anything of value. Black Tom's Glock and ammo went into my haversack and after a moment's contemplation, so did the bottles of Jack Daniels, Black Tom's crew had brought in. Another Glock and a bandalero of shotgun shells went into my bag as well. I moved into the rooms behind the bar -- pausing to look through a broken window that faced some woods. I caught just a glimpse of the twin girls brought in by the raiders, a wad of clothes in their hands, disappearing into the woods. I wished them well and moved on. Black Tom had small, dank cells in back for his Alices, all reeking of semen and sweat. Mom was struggling to put some boots on Pammy -- both now wearing ill fitting dresses -- too small and too thin to be of much use even though the weather for September had been warm and humid. A set of steps led me upstairs to what had to be Black Tom's residence -- lushly provided for with clean furniture and a host of clothes and food and drink. I found a large backpack and filled it with canned goods, another Colt automatic and ammo and grabbed two heavy coats from a closet. Another room held a lush, round bed adorned with rings for chains or cuffs and more sex toys than I'd ever seen outside a place in Tijuana on shore leave from several years back. I knew I was seeing my sister's home of the last few years. Going Home Downstairs, I found Mom stuffing a canvas bag with more canned goods and I told her it was time to go. Leading the way, I emerged cautiously into the early evening of late September. A crowd of locals were standing off a ways -- the doorman with the shotgun nowhere in sight. A scrawny old man with a huge beard stepped forward and said, "Did you really kill Black Tom?" When I briefly nodded, he said, "Well, Little Timmy done hauled ass down the road to some of Black Tom's people over in Tylerville. You might want to be elsewhere before he gets back." I smiled then and looking at the poor, dirty and hungry faces around me said, "There's food and weapons inside -- help yourself." I barely managed to step out of the way before they rushed the place. I looked to my mother, holding hands with my sister -- a blank expression on her face and smiled. "We need to go, Mom." # Lightning flashed illuminating my mother as thunder followed. For a woman who had been forced to march miles with little rest for three days, Mom looked beautiful -- still wearing that tight dress from Black Tom's. A warm front had moved through, bringing rain and we were holed up somewhere in Northern Kentucky in an old campground, using an ancient, but dry cabin for shelter -- grateful to have found a still working fireplace so we could get warm and dry. Pammy was curled up before the fire, sound asleep and I tried real hard not to notice how her shapely body threatened to explode from her dress. Fortunately, that was easy because I couldn't keep my eyes off of Mom and the way her large breasts seemed to stretch the seams holding her dress together. She was sitting not far from Pammy, an expression of concern on her face. My sister hadn't said a word since the firefight. She ate when given food, drank when given water and walked when told to -- all with a vacant look in her eyes. We'd had little time for conversation -- fleeing pursuit of Black Tom's cronies, most of which I thought were dead. After the fight, we'd made our way to a river landing where Black Tom kept a little flotilla of boats -- a motley collection of small boats with outboard motors, a speedboat and an ancient looking pontoon boat. We took the speedboat after using my rifle to wreck the rest of the little fleet and moved upriver towards what Mom said was the only passable bridge within sixty miles. There I'd booby trapped the bridge using some of Gantry's toys.. The bridge was an old railroad bridge looking surprisingly solid, but littered with the wreckage of box cars abandoned on the tracks. I set up several mines -- both pressure mines and trip wired and made my way back to the boat and on across the river where I holed the hull of the speedboat and we made our way up the southern bluffs overlooking the river. A few hours later, as Mom and Pammy rested, a large group appeared at the bridge on the Indiana side, arriving in a smoking hulk of an old school bus. Through binoculars I watched as a nasty looking and heavily armed group of maybe fifty men began to wind their way across the bridge. One stepped on a pressure mine and blew three off the bridge. The others panicked and one must have tripped the ambush wire -- hooked into a pound of C-19 and a sixty foot section of the bridge pretty much vaporized along with the entire band of raiders, the explosion rocking me back on my heels nearly a mile away and echoing up and down the river as debris and body parts fell into the water. Just to be sure we'd gotten safely away, I'd hard marched Mom and Pammy on for another day -- saying little as I scanned Commander Vance's old map and an old Road Atlas I'd found in the wreckage of a supermarket somewhere in Minnesota -- going South and East. Late this last afternoon, I could see the storm clouds building up to the west and followed the barely legible signs that once had directed tourists to a cheesy old campground and this old cabin. "Is she...do you think she'll be alright, Mom?" I asked Mom as I got up to feed the fire with some old seasoned logs I'd found in a wood box outside. Mom didn't answer for a long time -- her eyes studying Pammy's sleeping form. "I don't know...I doubt she's been right since your father was killed and Black Tom took us." Mom shivered and hugged herself tight, inadvertently offering me a brilliant display of her cleavage. "I didn't see her for nearly six months after...after. I know Black Tom did things -- fucked with her head and her body I guess and when he finally brought her down from his place, she was like...his complete and utter slut." Mom sighed. "No, she's not right -- I reckon neither of us is right." Mom looked up at me with tears in her eyes. "I guess nothing is right anymore." I knelt at Mom's feet and reached up and took her hands in mine. "We're back together, Mom -- we're family again. Things will get better." Mom stared down at me for a long time, tears making tracks down her begrimed face. She finally looked up towards the ragged ceiling and blew out air -- her face reddening. "Not exactly the same is it?" She looked down again, staring at our joined hands in her lap. "Guess you never thought you'd see your old mom acting like I did, did you, son? Never imagined our reunion would start with Mom sucking your big peter?" I felt myself blushing as I shrugged my shoulders and said, "It couldn't be helped...things can be better now -- you're done with that place and all that happened." Mom blinked her eyes and looked away again, unable to look me in the eye as she replied, "Maybe, but what happened isn't done with me, John." What do you mean, Mom?" Still avoiding my gaze, Mom said, "These last years have been bad in many ways, son, but in some ways, I've been more alive than ever before." She paused and licked her lips and then she turned her eyes to look me in the face and I was almost bowed over by the sheer intensity of her gaze. "When Black Tom and his men shot your father, I about died...I would have been happy if they'd have shot me dead on the spot too. But, Black Tom gave me to his men and they put me on our old oak dining room table and fucked me and fucked me -- raping me...at least at first, taking turns sticking their dicks in me while the others held my arms and kept my legs spread wide." Mom's face was now beet red as she swallowed and continued, "I loved your father and I never cheated on him, but his idea of lovemaking was two or three times a month and even then it was 'Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am,' and I doubt I ever had more than a dozen orgasms with Joe in all the years we were married, but I did fantasize about sex -- I used to imagine big cocks making me scream for hours and hours..." Mom took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Her nipples, already hard from the night air grew visibly larger as she spoke. "I mean no disrespect to your father, but by the time Black Tom's men finished with me, I'd lost count how many times I'd cum and as sore and crazy as I was, I wanted more. All those nasty men on top of me, their cocks filling me up with hot cum and making me moan like a common whore -- God help me, but I loved it!. When they were done, I cried for more and son, they laughed at me and then they did oblige me and Black Tom said 'I'd get along fine -- that he wished he could find more cock hungry sluts like me." She glanced over at Pammy lying asleep in front of the fire. "I used to tell myself I did it because it gave me a chance to stay near Pammy, but the truth is, I loved being a slut whore for Black Tom. I doubt a day's gone by these last years that I didn't have several cocks in me or fall asleep with men's seed dripping out of me. I reveled in being the best whore on Black Tom's string -- one man at a time or two, or even three. I was never happier than when I was being fucked." Mom's hands tightened around mine. "Even right now I'm missing all that cock I got everyday. Right now, I'm getting wet remembering sucking your cock, son and thinking how good that lump in your pants felt against my pussy." "Mom...I..." My mouth was dry and I was at a total loss for words. I tried to reconcile the mother I remembered...the mother who dressed conservatively and taught little ones in Sunday School, who'd been so prim and proper with the mother sitting before me...the mother I'd seen fucking and sucking men like a wanton whore and who'd so eagerly it seemed, had sucked my cock only a few minutes after we'd been reunited. "Son, I need to be fucked. I need to be fucked by you. I don't care that you're my son...I think it makes me want it more. I know you must think I'm awful...just a cumslut whore, but I want you, John. Please..." Mom whispered, her hands pressing my hands against her lap, spreading her legs slightly and hunching her hips upward. As she opened her legs, her already short dress was dragged upwards towards her waist and her thick, hairy pussy was revealed -- sure enough, her labia had flowered and I could see a wide expanse of glistening, pink flesh. I suddenly smelled her pussy -- wet and aroused and with a sudden growl, I thrust my face into Mom's hot cunt, marveling at the heat of her flesh as I mashed my head between her thighs, my mouth open and tongue spearing her sopping wet pussy flesh. Mom let out a plaintive cry as she threw her legs over my shoulders and flexed her hips up, tightening her thighs to hold my face captive against her sodden, hairy pussy. My head swam like I was drunk as I inhaled her strong scent -- spurring my incestuous lust on as I began licking her pussy like a dog dying of thirst, rolling my tongue up and down her quivering, glistening flesh, lapping her juices and smearing them over my sparsely bearded face. Mom moaned, hunching her groin against my face as I looked up at her while my tongue swirled around her wet box. I gazed in wonder at the woman that was both my mother and a crazed slut, her hands squeezing her breasts and then jerking her summer dress over her head so she could get better access to her swollen nipples, lifting one heavy breast up so she could tongue her own engorged nub. Suddenly we were atop my old and worn sleeping bag, kissing feverishly -- Mom's tongue slathering over my pussy juice drenched face while she was tearing at my clothes. Her hands found my cock, then her lips were on me, reminding me of how well my mother could suck cock, her tongue an insane dervish of warm, moist flesh and then Mom was straddling me, her need intent on her face. "Fuck me, John," Mom sobbed. "I need your big cock!" I could feel the intense heat of her sodden pussy long before her pussy lips kissed the head of my erect and throbbing penis and I groaned, "I love you, Mom!" as she slowly lowered herself onto me -- her lips sneering with carnal bliss as she impaled herself on her son's long, hard cock. Mom let out a strange, happy crooning noise I'd never heard from a woman before -- a sound that was both the epitome of carnality and of happiness. Squatting over me, hands on my chest and leaning slightly forward so her large, meaty breasts dragged over my sweaty skin, Mom began to bounce on my dick, torturously fucking me as she contracted her cunt muscles, her cunt flesh clinging stubbornly to my shaft as she fucked me. "I love cock!" Mom cried out as she took all of me into her, squirming with delight as my cock was buried in her womb. Mom suddenly stiffened and I felt a hot flood of her creams bathe my cock as she rose up on me, her body stiffening as she bit her lower lip -- orgasmic pleasure sweeping her away, her leg muscles bulging dangerously as a spasm of pleasure tore through her and taking my breath away as I witnessed for the first time an expression of sheer carnal delight on my mother's face...her breasts quaking as she shuddered from the joy of having her son's cock filling her womb. Mom collapsed on top of me and I rolled us over and while Mom moaned in approval, I draped her legs over my shoulders and began to fuck her like a man gone mad. I gave her no respite from her orgasm, sending her crashing headlong into another as I brutally rammed my cock into her sweet furnace of a pussy again and again. Mom whipped her head back and forth -- her wild and tangled mane of hair concealing her face until I reached out and smoothed her hair back, not willing to lose sight of my mother's expressions of incestuous bliss while she grunted and moaned with each hard thrust of my cock into her motherly cunt. Mom's breasts bounced wildly over her chest, nipples so swollen, they resembled overripe cherries that would burst if bitten. I thrust hard, stretching to kiss Mom and curling her up into a ball of aroused woman as I thrust my tongue into her mouth, delighted when she feverishly sucked it as she had sucked my cock before. Mom's brilliant blue eyes were wide with excitement and love as I buried my stiff penis into her silky and steaming flesh again and again. Her ragged nails clawed against my shoulders and arms as her pleasure grew and grew and then she bucked hard up into me, meeting my downward thrust and a gave a muffled squeal against my lips as she came again, cunt clamping hard around my cock and doing things I never imagined a woman could control with her pussy -- milking me -- conveying her need for my hot sperm to take her all the way to heaven. I went deep into her tightening womb and sobbed, "I love you!" as my cock jerked in her satiny grasp and began flooding her pussy with hot semen. I came and came and came as if I had been saving it for years -- filling Mom up with my seed -- cumming so hard, it almost hurt as it shot from my cock. I felt pleasure as I had never felt it before -- knowing it was my mother's pussy I was deep inside simply making it all the more sweet. Mom's legs fell off my shoulders as I collapsed on top of her, still buried inside her to the root, her heaving breasts like soft pillows that I could rest my weary head on while she sighed and moaned in the lovely aftermath of our lovemaking. It was a few minutes before I realized that Mom was holding me with just one arm, fingers slowly tracing little circles on my back. I turned to look at her and saw her other arm extended off to my right -- her hand locked around Pammy's hand. My sister was looking at us both, a huge, happy smile on her face -- her eyes shiny with excitement. Her other arm was was between her thighs, slightly moving and I realized that Pammy was rubbing her own pussy. I felt Mom move slightly and knew we were both looking at my little sister. Both embarrassment and amazement washed over me as I realized that Pammy had watched her brother and mother fuck like wild animals and from her expression, had enjoyed it greatly. I'm not sure how long we all three simply stared at each other before my sister's face scrunched up in an expression of orgasmic release, her body stiffening under the coat. Pammy finally let Mom's hand go and with a contended sigh, rolled over and went back to sleep. I looked upwards at Mom, using my arms to raise up a bit so that we were face to face. Mom smiled at me. "I think that's a good sign, don't you think?" I grinned and said, "I just fucked my mother -- pretty hard to think beyond that, Mom." Mom nodded, her legs shakily coming to drape over the back of my legs as if preparing to trap me between her thighs if I was having second thoughts. "Are you sorry, John?" Shaking my head, I replied, "No...just can't believe I've just made a teenage fantasy a reality. You wouldn't believe how many times I masturbated thinking about this before I left home." Mom raised her head and gave me a gentle kiss before she said, "I suppose I sort of knew how you felt -- we were almost a couple even when you were a kid and I used to daydream about you when I would find all your cum stained shorts and towels." Mom stretched herself under me like a big, lazy cat sunning herself -- her hard nipples dragging across my chest as her meaty breasts rolled. "Maybe this was all meant to be -- everything I've done -- that happened was to prepare me to be able to love you...to be able and willing to spread my legs and fuck my son." Mom got a funny look in her eyes and somehow I knew the words that were coming -- words I'd heard many times as a child when she would shake her head while watching the news and the awful things going on all over. In a quiet voice, Mom said, "God's will." We both went silent for a moment and then I nodded, "Maybe, Mom, maybe. God's will or not, I have you now. I crossed through hell for you and I'm not about to let you go now." Mom nodded and said, "Black Tom took me away from your father and you took me from Black Tom. You're my man now." Mom flexed her cunt muscles around my semi-hard cock and whispered, "I belong to you now, son." I'm not sure why, but Mom's words aroused me and I felt my cock begin to harden again -- Mom groaning happily as I swelled inside her. We began to fuck again -- this time more slowly and gently -- making love as the storm raged outside -- oblivious to the savage world's many dangers, feeling, at least for the moment, safe in each other's arms. In the morning, Pammy had reverted to her almost catatonic state, although I felt she seemed to be a little more aware -- sometimes catching her watching me after we broke camp and moved out. We moved steadily east now, sticking to secondary roads, making relatively good time across the mostly flat lands of the bluegrass of Northern Kentucky. Each night we would find an abandoned house to shelter in and Mom and I would make love after Pammy would at least pretend to go to sleep. Most nights however as I fucked Mom, relishing her lush body underneath me, savoring the feel of my cock deep inside her making her heart pound, Pammy would roll over and watch Mom and I together, a lewd smile coming over her face as she stared at her brother fucking her mother, eventually extending an arm out to take Mom's hand and holding tightly onto it as Mom and I would work our way to orgasm. Usually, Pammy would begin to masturbate as well, sometimes blatantly, her covers kicked off and her hand squirming madly around her pussy which slowly was becoming covered with a soft downy blonde muff. It many ways it was as if she was participating in our incestuous lovemaking and I guess in her own way, she was. As we approached the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, in the middle of nowhere, we found an ancient hunting supply and general store that looked like it had been around since the early twentieth century. I was shocked to find it was completely intact -- its goods never plundered. Inside, we were able to outfit Mom and Pammy in some jeans and flannel shirts and some decent hiking boots. Even better were cold weather coats that fit them both. We found some lightweight but insulated sleeping bags and a nylon tent that when rolled up only seemed to weigh a little over a pound. Mom and Pammy both found their new clothes a little difficult to get used to and Pammy emerged slightly from her catatonic state to whine unhappily at having such heavy clothing on her body, but as October overtook us, the weather was beginning to cool rapidly and the nights were getting chillier. Still, as Mom observed, "Honest to God, I don't think I've had clothes on more than five or six times -- this will take some getting used to." Black Tom had treated them as little better than animals -- when they did accompany him in public, they had been naked except for perhaps shoes and the leash and collar they had been led around with. The going was slower now, all roads seemed to be mostly uphill, but Mom and my sister were getting used to walking -- Mom even seemed to have shed a bit of weight -- doing nothing but enhancing her mature beauty. I can still recall Mom taking a shower under a small waterfall, shivering from the cold water, but looking magnificent in all her naked glory, black and gray hair wet and slicked back from her face -- water running off her huge, sloping breasts -- nipples swollen in the chill water and her stomach -- still with a small pooch of a woman in her early middle years, but sexy in a way that only a mature woman can be and her wild and unruly thatch of black pubic hair nestled between thighs that had toned up with the many miles of hiking from the last few weeks. Going Home My cock throbbed with the image of my mother, her skin slick and glistening, all that day, not quite going down until that evening when we made camp and we made love with all the passion and energy of newlyweds. As always, as I fucked Mom, my sister, made her presence known, holding onto Mom's hand as she watched and masturbated -- my attention wandering back and forth between Mom's ripe and luscious body and Pammy's young and tight form -- her hands wetly sliding over her wispy blonde-haired pussy. There were days I thought Pammy might be coming out of her silent, catatonic-like state. Days when she would smile and point at a small stand of deer, grazing in a meadow overrun with crops gone wild or when she would gaze with rapt attention at songbirds in the trees or smile contentedly as Mom brushed the tangles out of her long blonde hair with a ivory brush she'd found in an abandoned house or when she would offer Mom and me a happy, leering smile as we exploded in orgasm, but she did not speak. We were getting close to Commander Vance's retreat -- I was thinking maybe two or three days. Mom and I had made love at the end of the day, cocooned warmly in our insulated tent, a glowstick dimly illuminating us. Mom on top at the end as we reached climax, Mom sitting erect atop my throbbing and gushing cock, sobbing with pleasure as she ran one hand through her pepper-colored hair while the other squeezed Pammy's hand as she avidly watched. Finally, Mom collapsed on top of me, her soft, meaty breasts flattening out atop me and she moaned her love for me and after watching my sister sigh contentedly and falling asleep, we both let slumber overtake us. I awoke suddenly out of deep sleep, feeling a bit disorientated, instinct telling me something was out of sorts -- Mom was curled up against my left side, her face nuzzling my neck. As I reached for my Colt under my pack that I used for a head rest when I realized what woke me up -- a pair of soft lips and a tongue tasting my cock. In the dim light offered by the glow stick, I was shocked to see Pammy kneeling next to me, her hair not quite obscuring her face, tenderly licking my cock, still sticky with Mom's juices. I didn't want to spook her -- she tended to act skittish around me most of the time anyway -- so I simply whispered, "Pammy -- stop, go back to sleep, honey." My sister stiffened a little at my voice, but didn't stop -- taking my cock in her mouth and sucking on the head as she turned and looked up at me -- her blue eyes looking so innocent and child-like. I asked her again, keeping my voice soft and gentle, "Pammy -- I'm your brother -- you need to stop -- we can't do this." Pammy responded by taking more of me into her mouth -- expertly deep-throating me like a seasoned pro as she made little, contented, slurping noises. Trying not to wake Mom up, I eased myself up, running a hand through my sister's long blonde tresses as I gently applied pressure to ease her off my cock. Even as I tried to do the right thing, part of me was aroused by this girl almost out of her teens -- her body firm and ripe and my semi-erect cock stiffening between her lips. Part of me was even thinking that how could it be any worse than fucking my own mother. Pammy whined in protest as her lips let my hardening penis slip from her mouth and she turned and moved on me and I heard my sister speak for the first time since I'd sailed off years ago -- a soft, husky voice saying, "Please." Pammy moved upwards, swinging a long, shapely leg across my thighs and straddling me just below my now wet and hard cock. Pammy scooted forward till my erection was being kissed by her sparsely haired vulva -- labia already flowering to embrace the length of my shaft while she ran her hands up her front, cupping her firm and full breasts, fingers sliding over long and erect nipples as she moaned, "Please...I need it. It's so hard and big...I need it, please let me have your cock!" She wiggled against me, her wetness kissing my saliva smeared cock and resisting the desire to give in, I began to rise up, my hand moving to push her away when Mom reached out and laying her hand on my chest, pushed me down onto my back. "No, John...don't stop her," Mom said softly. I whipped my head around to see Mom now in a sitting position -- one hand on my chest, the other stroking Pammy's bare arm. "Mom...I can't...she's -- she's my sister." Mom smiled as if amused and shook her head. "I think we're past that now, son. Do this for her...she needs it, she needs your love." Part of me yearned to abandon all restrain and take my sister...part of me throbbed with incestuous need, but part of me still resisted. "It's not right, Mom. Pammy isn't -- she's not all...dammit, she's all messed up!" As I argued with Mom, Pammy continued to squirm in my lap, rolling her hips and running her spread labia up and down my shaft, her juices sweetly hot -- so aroused I could smell her wet cunt -- her need wafting in my nostrils. Mom leaned in and kissed me on the lips, her tongue rolling gently across them before she said, "Son, ain't none of us really right...the world isn't right, but it is what it is. You've made things good for me, now make them good for your sister." Pammy moaned as she hunched against me, almost panting with need as she moaned, "Fuck meeeeeee, pleeeeeaase! I want your cock!" Her brilliant blue eyes, so much like our mother's stared imploringly down at me as she wiggled atop me, her hands squeezing and mauling her own breasts, angrily pinching her swollen nipples. Mom came up onto her knees, wrapping an arm around Pammy, kissing her tenderly on the cheek and then more passionately as her daughter turned, mouth open and tongue extending and found Mom's lips. As their sloppy kiss ended, Mom looked down at me, her eyes imploring me just as my sister's were. "John, your sister needs you -- she needs you to give her peace and your love." Tears pooled in Mom's eyes and ran down her cheeks. "You've done so much for me -- made fucking part of love again. Make it good for Pammie too...please, son, do it for her...do it for me." I let all doubts fall away and I sat up and wrapped my arms around my baby sister, pulling her to me and kissing her, thrusting my tongue into her mouth as she moaned happily -- her tongue a whirling dervish teasing and flirting with my tongue. She tasted different than Mom -- not better, but different. With a groan, I rolled us over, laying Pammy down on her back as I stayed between her legs. She squealed in delight as she felt the length of my cock sliding up and down her splayed lips, drawing her knees back and spreading them with long learned experience -- anticipating the first thrust of my cock." "I -- I love you, Pammy," I said in a ragged voice as I lifted my hips and nestled the head of my cock against her clasping opening. Mom's hand stroked my back and buttocks as she moaned, "Fuck your baby sister like you'd fuck me, son!" I felt her fingers press into my flesh, urging me on as I thrust my cock into Pammy's welcoming pussy!" Whatever sweetness and innocence I sensed in my sister before instantly evaporated as she screamed in desperate triumph, flinging her pelvis upwards to meet my cock even as she flung her legs around my lower back, legs crossing as she tightened her hold on me, becoming in seconds a sexual wildcat beneath me. I was instantly caught up in a storm of lust as I struggled against her tight embrace to withdraw and thrust again -- intent on sinking my aching hard-on deep into her molten pussy -- intent on fucking my sister as hard as I could. Pammy's arms, wrapped around my neck, pulled my head down so we could kiss, her tongue slathering over mine, furious and starving for me. When it ended, as I trip hammered my cock into her tight pussy, she flung her head back and screamed again -- letting everything inside her out -- purging at least for the moment, all her demons and surrendering herself to carnal pleasure -- letting ecstasy cleanse her soul of all pain as she writhed beneath me, letting my cock plunge deep and bring her pleasure and relief. "FUCK MEEEEE, YESSSSS! FUCK ME HARDER!" Pammy screamed as her fingers clawed at my back and she moved her body in ways I didn't know were possible and made her pussy contract and pulse in ways that were wonderfully obscene. On and on, I fucked my sister, savoring the sweet sensation of her cunt flesh sliding along my shaft, massaging me, kissing my cock with wetness and heat that were made even more delicious knowing that I was committing incest with my mother's youngest child. Pammy began to orgasm, her body loosing control as if in an epileptic fit -- her furnace-like cunt clamping down on my erect penis. I tried to remain motionless, struggling not to cum as I remained deep inside her womb, riding out her raging pleasure until her orgasm ebbed and she began to relax and then I began fucking her hard again, making my sister sob with pleasure, building her back up towards climax again. "YESSSS, LOVE IT, LOVE TO BE FUCKED, FUCKED, FUCKED HARD!" Pammy chanted as I slammed my cock into her sodden pussy again and again, her thighs and legs churning as she tried to again wrap herself around me, but exhaustion and pleasure were too much for her and she mostly allowed me to brutally fuck her as she sobbed with pleasure. Then as her eyes widened as if surprised by yet another orgasm, she whimpered softly, "Fuck me!" and then began to writhe madly beneath me as ecstasy tore through her young body while her pussy clamped down on me, milking me as I drove deep one last time and with a roar of bestial pleasure, began to cum in my sister's womb. My heavy load of hot semen was like flame to the gasoline of her orgasm and Pammy exploded under me, becoming a squalling, clawing wildcat as we became one in carnal delight, our mutual orgasm raging as I mashed my lips on hers and our tongues were two wild animals caught up in their own frenzy of sexual delight. We kissed as I seemed to shoot my seed for what seemed forever, but finally as I felt my sister begin to calm, her ravenous cunt slowly relaxing around my aching cock, I felt myself drained and gently disengaged, making Pammy moan in an utterly lewd way as I slowly withdrew from her sperm filled pussy. On shaky arms above her, I kissed my sister one last time, shivering as her still moving vulva brushed my cum covered cock. I carefully moved off her and shifted over to her right only to have Mom push me back as she dived for my cock -- lust and love struggling for control of her face. Like a starving woman, Mom began licking my semi-erect cock, lapping up streamers of my semen mixed in with a heavy coating of Pammie's cunt cream. As Mom finished making me quiver as she sucked and cleaned my sensitive cock, we both turned as Pammy moaned, "Please...more. I need it." We both saw my sister lying there, still trembling in the throes of her receding orgasmic bliss, barely able to control her movements, but somehow undulating her pelvis, spreading her legs as she looked back and forth between Mom and me as she begged, "Fuck me...make me cum...please!" Mom and I exchanged glances and after taking a look at my cock, barely semi-erect and still recovering, Mom grinned evilly at me and said, "My turn, son!" As I watched in complete shock and awe, Mom moved on her hands and knees, meaty breasts swaying, between her daughter's sprawled legs. "Shhhhh, Mommy's here, baby. Mommy will make you feel all better." Pammy's eyes glowed with excitement as Mom approached and she laughed like an excited child as Mom began kissing her way up her thighs, shifting from one leg to the other as she showered her child's body with soft licks and kisses. Mom finally paused -- her face scant inches above my sister's wide open pussy -- my seed beginning to ooze out. "Mommy loves you, sweetheart," Mom said huskily and then she pressed her mouth against Pammy's pussy and began licking her daughter's cum filled pussy! My sister moaned in utter delight, flinging her hips upward against Mom's lips and tongue while entangling her fingers into Mom's graying mane of hair, pressing Mom's face more firmly against her crotch. I felt my heart beating faster as I watched Mom lap and suck at her daughter's pussy -- tongue rolling over her swollen labia before stiffening and driving into Pammy's pink meat, emerging with a blob of my hot semen, mixed with pussy cream. Mom's face quickly became covered with a whitish, frothy coating of her children's juices as she tongued Pammy towards another orgasm. Pammy squirmed and sighed under Mom's knowledgeable mouth, her blue eyes shining brighter and brighter as she was swept up in incestuous bliss -- a lewd grin on her face as she would look at me lovingly and then return her gaze to our mother looking back at her as her head bobbed between Pammy's thighs. As my sister moaned as Mom's tongue brought her to another climax, Mom raised her head up and as sperm and cunt juice dripped from her face, moaned, "Fuck me, son. Fuck me now!" I suddenly awoke from being entranced by my mother's and sister's sapphic lovemaking and was aware of my own arousal -- cock hard and achingly stiff. I tore my eyes away from the erotic sight of Mom tonguing Pammy's pussy to see my mother's ass wiggling in anticipation and found myself swept up in incestuous lust. With a growl, I climbed to my knees behind Mom and grabbed hold of her full, but toned ass cheeks. Spreading her firm cheeks apart, I thrust hard into Mom's cunt -- her labia already flowered open, revealing pink and glistening flesh. Mom stiffened beneath me, a muffled groan coming from her lips as I buried my cock in her in one swift motion. I leaned over Mom, kissing her neck as my hands swept under her to cup her heavy swinging breasts, finger digging deep into her soft, pillow-like flesh as I hunched my hips forward to get deeper inside my mother. Soon noise filled the tent -- Pammy's loud screams of ecstasy mixing with Mom's pussy muffled moans as I quick fucked her from behind, not withdrawing far, but slamming into her pussy with short, intense thrusts. As I fucked Mom, my hands busily milked her huge breasts, fingers pinching and pulling at her thick, blood engorged nipples. As I nibbled and kissed at Mom's neck and shoulders, I saw her fingers contributing to my sister's pleasure, sliding through Pammy's slick flesh and then gradually inserting one finger and then another inside her daughter's pussy. Pammy's cries became more intense as she demanded, "More! Fuck me, give me more!" My sister suddenly screamed as Mom inserted her entire hand into Pammy's pussy and then as I saw the muscles in Mom's wrist flex, I somehow understood that she had made a fist inside her daughter's cunt. Slowly, Mom began working her fist back and forth inside Pammy -- fist-fucking her with a familiarity which both shocked and aroused me. I began to fuck Mom harder as well, making her cry with pleasure as she ran her tongue over Pammy's pink folds, teasing and loving my sister's swollen clitoris, fully emerged from its hood, pulsating as Mom fisted her and tongued her. Gasps and moans and screams of pleasure filled the tent as mother, son and daughter were joined in incestuous union, creating an intimacy, carnal and more erotic than I ever dreamed could exist. Mom's pussy was like a vise as she squeezed her thighs together and constricted her pussy muscles as I shoved my cock into her motherly womb again and again while she fist fucked Pammy, working her fist around inside her, making sudden, short thrusts with her curled fingers against my sister's cervix, making her sob with pleasure. The pleasure grew so great to me that it seemed to border on pain and while Mom and Pammy seemed to be skating that same edge, neither ever begged for it to halt, Mom occasionally lifting her pussy cream covered face to cry out, "I love you, son. Fuck me, fuck Mommy!" while Pammy simply screamed with pleasure, her sweaty body squirming under Mom's never ceasing fisting. As my sister erupted in an orgasm that nearly had her levitating, Mom erupted in an equally intense orgasm, partly caused by my cock thrusting deep inside her and partly from the sheer carnal performance of her daughter writhing -- impaled on Mom's ever probing hand. I had no choice but to join them, the need to cum again overwhelming as my hot seed raced through my shaft and exploded in Mom's pussy once more -- shocking me with the intensity and volume of my third load of semen in such a short time. Our three-way mutual orgasm seemed to go on and on, Pammy screaming herself hoarse before Mom gingerly pulled her hand out of my sister's cunt -- her hand thickly coated with pussy cream. As I ground myself into Mom's pussy, allowing her to milk the last few drops of semen from my cock, I reached down and took Mom's wrist and leaning over her shoulder, licked my sister's juices from Mom's fingers, only to have my tongue greeted by Mom's tongue as we both greedily lapped at the sweet cream of Pammy's pussy. Mom, her body shaking, moved to Pammy's right side, my sister immediately turning to cuddle up against Mom and whispering, "I like to fuck," before slipping into a deep sleep, softly snoring while her head rested on Mom's breast. I moved to bracket Mom from the other side, trapping her between her children's bodies, kissing her gently as we caught our breath -- tasting both myself and Pammy on her cum covered face. As we all cuddled and watched Pammy sleep, Mom whispered, "Thank you, John. For me and for your sister, thank you." I sighed happily and said, "My pleasure...more than you'll ever know. Do you think it will help? Do you think she'll ever come back to us?" Mom didn't reply for a long time. "I just don't know, John. I don't know all of what Black Tom did to her. He kept her isolated for a long time, even though I begged to see her. When he did bring her out...she was like a trained animal -- living for pleasure, only really connecting with the world when she was fucking or sucking or licking someone. Sometimes she knows me, sometimes not." I recalled her familiarity with her daughter and said, "You've made love to her before?" Mom nodded. "Many times. Black Tom would sometimes bring me up to his quarters and have Pammy and me perform for him...making us sixty-nine each other or use a strap-on dildo on each other...sometimes a double cock." Mom let out a heavy, sort of wistful sigh. "Sometimes he just wanted to see a mother and daughter commit incest, other times I don't think he even recollected I was his 'pretty one's' mother -- he just wanted to fuck one of us and watch the other eat his jizz out of their pussy." Mom shivered as she remembered -- her nipples swelling again as she talked. "I guess that makes me an awful mother, but I did it willingly from the start. Part of me was eager to be with my daughter, but part of me reveled in the sheer lewdness of it. Until I met Black Tom, I'd never even kissed a woman before except friendly like on the cheek. Before he debuted Pammy, he'd had me do things with other women and I loved it. The first time Pammy slipped her tongue into my mouth I had an orgasm. "The first time Black Tom ordered me to lick her pussy, I was happy to do it -- thrilled...I remember him laughing cause I was leaving a puddle of pussy cream between my legs, I was so aroused." Mom paused and I could see her eyes clouding at the edge of madness. "Did that make me evil...or crazy?" "You were doing what you had to do to survive, Mom." I said softly. Mom sighed and said, "I don't know...yes, in part to just stay alive another day and as sex crazed as Pammy seemed, I was so glad she was surviving too, but there's a part of me I cannot deny...a part of me was glorying in what I was doing, even with Pammy that first time...and every time after." Mom pressed her head against my chest, her arms coming around me to hold me tight. "Am I bad, son? Am I evil or crazy?" Going Home It'd been a difficult week. The stock market plunged, again. The sector she'd been covering, Casino and Gaming, got hammered. The financial crisis that started in 2008 was apparently not over. Jenny needed to get away. She'd been meaning to help her father with a genealogy project he'd been working on. It was just the distraction that she needed. Jenny hadn't been home since Christmas. It was only a three hour drive north, but it seems that lately she's only been able to get upstate two or three times a year. Once this mess was behind her, she promised herself she'd visit more regularly. Heading out of the city was always challenging. But on this weekend there was major construction on the George Washington Bridge; she'd have to pick up the Thruway from Interstate 287. By the time she reached the Tappan Zee Bridge the rain had stopped. As she drove north, Jenny filed away her problems, hit the accelerator on her black BMW M3 convertible, found a classic rock station and cranked up the radio. There was just one piece of business to which she had to attend. She had called Jonathan earlier in the day to make sure he'd be home this weekend. "I'm coming up and I need a favor," said Jenny. "Of course, you know I'll do anything for you," replied Jonathan eagerly. ***** "Just a small-town girl, livin' in a lonely world, she took the midnight train goin' anywhere..." Jenny loved Journey. Her mind wandered... She thought back to the summer before her freshman year at Carnegie Mellon. It was intense. She had so many great memories but the one that she often relived was the first time Jonathan took her to his favorite "parking" spot. It was on a desolate back road, at a bend near a large oak tree. There was only one house on the entire stretch and it was a half a mile away. If a car came their way, they would have plenty of time to react. It was a warm, moonlit, star-filled summer night. They'd been to the drive-in in Jonathan's red 1969 Oldsmobile 442 convertible. He loved that car and never stopped talking about it. Among the useless facts Jenny had stored away was that 442 stood for four barrel carburetor, four-speed manual transmission, and dual exhaust. If she were ever a contestant on JEOPARDY and the category was muscle cars, she'd clean up! Jonathan lowered the sun visor and grabbed a joint he'd stashed there earlier. He lit up, took a long deep drag, and handed it to Jenny. She had smoked a few times but had never really been stoned. But this stuff was potent and after a couple of hits they were both glassy-eyed and giggly, and horny. Jonathan leaned against the headrest and closed his eyes. Jenny reached across the center console and started rubbing his growing bulge. She unzipped his fly and fished his cock out of his pants. His unfurling length was quite impressive. She stroked up and down and playfully kissed his engorged head. Jenny expertly ran her tongue along his full length. She'd only been giving head for a few months but she was quite proud of her abilities. She relaxed her mouth and jaw and took in as much of him as she could. "Yeah, baby, OH, oh, that feels good," murmured Jonathan. "Lift your ass, I want to slide your pants down," commanded Jenny. Jonathan gladly complied. Jenny bent Jonathan's cock 90° forward, forming a perfect right angle, and let it snap against his belly. The tip of his swollen head reached his belly button. She snapped it several more times; tiny droplets of pre-come seeped out. Jenny smeared it over his head before licking it off completely. Jonathan was rock-hard in a way that only 18-year-olds can be. The other thing about 18-year-old guys, Jenny thought to herself was that their stamina wasn't fully developed. Jenny knew it wouldn't be long. She wrapped her lips around his cock and felt his warm jism filling her mouth. She put her hand around his cock and pumped up and down. She was determined not to spill a drop. "Damn, Jenny, what the hell, that was great, Jesus Christ," said Jonathan. Jenny was hot and amped. She unbuttoned her tight cutoffs and slipped her fingers between her legs, brushing past her fine hairs and toyed with her tender pussy. She wiggled out of her shorts and rubbed herself purposefully. Jenny was in a trance; she lifted her ass and peeled off her panties. For a moment, she almost forgot that she wasn't alone in her bedroom. She knew it would take Jonathan a few more minutes to recover and she desperately wanted to cum. She probed and pulled her pussy lips rubbing her love button clockwise and counterclockwise. She thrust her hips up and down, fucking herself with abandon. "Oh God, oh God, MMM... I'm cuming, ooh... I'm cuming," screamed Jenny. The other great thing about being 18 is an insatiable appetite and wanting to fuck all night. Jonathan reclined his bucket seat and removed his jeans. His cock was at full attention. Jenny climbed over the gearshift, steadying herself with her left arm. She lowered herself onto Jonathan using her right hand to guide him into her waiting and parted cunt. Jonathan lifted Jenny's tank-top over her head, unsnapped her bra and marveled at her heavy tits and puffy nipples. The contrast of her big boobs and cute small ass was striking. "This will serve Jenny very well in the future," Jonathan thought to himself. As Jenny bounced up and down, Jonathan tenderly sucked and pulled her nipples with his lips and teeth. He knew from experience that she was very sensitive when aroused. With the benefit of an orgasm behind them, they were able to enjoy making love. They kissed deeply and passionately, Jenny's lips were soft and tender. She felt Jonathan's head expand and knew he was ready to explode. Jenny tightened her grip around his muscular torso. She slid her hand between their sweaty bodies and found her swollen prize. Jenny had timed a perfect simultaneous orgasm. ***** Jenny exited toward the tollbooth. For some reason, the car ride had been shorter than normal. It was less than 10 miles to her parent's house, but instead she headed in the opposite direction toward Jonathan's place. Jenny glanced at herself in the rearview mirror and smiled. Jonathan lived in a new subdivision a few miles from town. The homes in the neighborhood were big and well maintained. There were semicircular driveways with four-stall garages, beautifully manicured lawns, Jaguars and Mercedes-Benzes everywhere. "Jonathan and Amy must've done pretty well for themselves," thought Jenny. Jenny pulled up in front of Jonathan's home and saw him sitting on the front porch. He was wearing cargo shorts, grass-stained Timberlands, and his shirt was unbuttoned to his navel. They hadn't seen each other since he and Amy's wedding, but married life seemed to be treating him well. Jenny parked in the driveway and skipped up the walkway. The smell of freshly cut grass invoked pleasant memories. Jonathan's shrubs were perfectly manicured, his sidewalks were edged to perfection, and the flower beds were freshly mulched. "I bet you're the only one in the neighborhood who does his own lawn," teased Jenny. "Yeah, these pretentious bastards haven't got a clue," said Jonathan. He was drinking a Corona, reached into the six-pack and handed her one. "How have you been? You look great." "It was a crazy week in Gotham City. I'm glad to be home for the weekend." Jenny had a chance to more closely examine her former boyfriend. He kept himself in great shape and it was obvious he still worked out. His easy smile and engaging eyes always got her attention. He wore his hair shorter, was a tad thicker, but the 10 years since high school hadn't diminished his appeal. Jenny learned that Jonathan was an electrical engineer at the new Chip Fab plant, that his college career-ending football injury turned out to be a good thing and that he knew he was one of the luckiest guys on the planet. Jenny remembered fondly his naïve optimism. "Or perhaps," thought Jenny to herself, "he was one of those guys who'd go through life unscathed." Jonathan also had a chance to check out his first love. She was dressed in a $2000 Armani suit, drove a fancy sports car, still had piercing large blue eyes, and of course, those breasts. They were tastefully hidden away behind her silk blouse. He smiled to himself as he remembered the summer after high school. Jonathan said, "I'm glad you called. It's always great to see you. You said you needed something." "Yes, I've got a delicate matter I was hoping your brother could help with. Is he still good with computers? He was quite a little hacker when we were in high school." "He's reformed and has promised to never cross the line again. Or did he say he'd never get caught again. I'm not sure. You know him, always a little too clever for his own good." "I have a project I'm working on that requires a man with his skills. It's a bit tricky and I need to be discreet, but nothing nefarious. Do you think he'd be willing to help me?" "William would do anything for you, you know that. You got him out of that jam. He's loyal for life. I'll have him call you at the office on Monday." "No, that's okay. Tell him I'll reach out to him. Like I said, kinda discreet. But tell him to expect my call. Another thing, don't mention this to anyone." "Sounds serious, mums the word. Come on, let's go in. The mosquitoes are restless tonight." They sat on the couch in the living room and continued catching up. Their romance fizzled out by their sophomore year but they had remained friends. "Amy should be home shortly. She's been on call this week and had an emergency appendectomy." They both heard a car door slam. "There she is now." Amy was still wearing her hospital scrubs. She and Jenny had known each other over the years. Jenny was in their wedding, a bunch of them summered together at the shore a few years ago, and they were Facebook friends. "I'm going to take a shower," said Amy. "Are you guys in the mood for pizza? I'm starving." "I'll order one," said Jonathan. "Do mushrooms and black olives sound good?" ***** Amy returned freshly showered with her short blonde hair still damp. Her Nordic features and cobalt blue eyes reminded Jenny of Charlize Theron. She was wearing black yoga pants and a pink tightfitting low scoop top. Her boobs had a nice jiggle and bounce. Jenny noticed the faint outline of her girly thing. Amy returned from the kitchen with a bottle of Pinot Noir and three wineglasses. They spent the next two hours rekindling their friendship. The conversation was lively. They managed to polish off a second bottle of the Pino. "It's getting late. I better go," said Jenny. "Nonsense, we've all had too much to drink. The guestroom is made up," said Amy. "It's just down the hall, follow me, I'll show you." "Thanks, you're right, if I went home I'd probably wake up my parents. They're in bed by 10." As they walked down the hall, Jenny said, "Your house is beautiful. I really like it. My place in the city is nice, but it's nothing like this." "The guest bath is just down the hall, and here we are, your room. I'll be right back, I'll lend you a nightgown," said Amy. Jenny was sitting on the bed already unbuttoning her blouse. "Don't worry about it, I usually sleep au naturel." Amy blushed, turned toward the door and said over her shoulder, "Okay then. Call if you need anything." ***** Jonathan was lying on the bed with his head propped up by a pile of pillows. "Jenny hasn't changed a bit," said Amy. "She's as engaging as ever and still very sexy. No wonder you always talk about that summer." Amy emerged from the bathroom wearing a skimpy nightgown. Her nipples were poking through the thin fabric. She cuddled up next to Jonathan placing her head on his bare chest. The sound of his heartbeat was comforting. Amy moved her hand to Jonathan's lap and started rubbing. "But you're mine now." She slipped her hand under his boxer's waistband. Jonathan responded immediately. She stroked up and down his full-length. "All mine..." Amy slid off his underwear and started sucking his cock, licking his shaft, tonguing the outline of his head while holding its base with a firm grasp. She playfully ran her teeth along his full-length. She somehow managed to remove her nightgown allowing her full access to her needy tits. She massaged herself, tugged her nipples, and seductively smiled at Jonathan. She bent his erection forward and let it snap against his belly. "Thwack!" She remembered. Amy rolled off and spread her legs wide. Jonathan placed his swollen head on her waiting pussy and entered easily. His pace wasn't rushed. The look on Amy face confirmed that she loved being fucked. She moaned as he pulled her nipples with his teeth. They kissed like lovers. "Oh my God, MMM MMM, yeah yeah," purred Jenny. Jonathan skillfully flipped her over and drilled his cock into her pussy from behind. Amy looked over her shoulder, "MMM, OH, oh." Since she was now facing the partially open bedroom door, she was able to see Jenny standing in the shadows, playing with herself, her big tits swaying. "Fuck me Jonathan, fuck me," pleaded Amy. Jonathan grabbed his cock and teasingly removed and reinserted it several times. He placed his cock on her puckered rim and slapped it up-and-down, exerting just enough pressure against Amy's hole to make her wonder if he'd be going there. He decided against it, acrobatically rolled her over on her back, allowing her head to hang slightly over the foot of the bed. When she bent her neck backward, Amy had an entirely new view of Jenny's diddling. He pumped wildly, his balls slapping against her ass. "FUCK MY CUNT," screamed Amy. Jonathan's cock swelled filling her completely. His final thrust was powerful and he unleashed his load. Amy's pussy walls contracted to the rhythm of her pulsing heart. Jonathan collapsed onto Amy. They were breathing heavy and glistening with sweat. From the corner of her eye, Amy caught a glimpse of Jenny turning and heading back to the guestroom, she supposed, to finish what she started. Jonathan tightened his strong arms around his wife and kissed the top of her head. They were asleep within minutes. Going Home Author's note: I don't know where this story came from. One morning I awoke and the story was there as a dream, all the names, places, everything just there with a voice saying 'Write my story' in my head. So I have. At that stage the story had no ending. The following morning I again awoke with the last part of the story in my head and again the command to write it. So here it is. I hope you enjoy reading it and also hope that in some way it is thought-provoking for you and adds some meaning to your life. It has to mine. ***** Lana greeted her soon-to-be ex-students formally at the door as they entered. Without exception they were dressed impeccably in clean, freshly-pressed clothing. She compared them with the mental images she still had of their first day at the academy, when they were bedraggled, unkempt, without pride or hope. She looked into each of their eyes, saw the hope, determination and love burning deeply inside and almost wept for the changes they had made in their lives. She looked also at their support people who accompanied them to this celebration of their achievement. The pride in their eyes was very moving, humbling, as she thought of the journey they too had taken in their lives and in the lives of all they came into contact with. It was hard to stay dry-eyed in the midst of all this emotion. When everyone had settled, the small college hall was packed, with people standing at the back. Never, in all the time she had been in this precinct, had she envisaged that there would be this turnout for the graduands of her first course. She was deeply moved by the show of support from the West Bronx community and especially from the loved ones of those whom she had spent the year teaching, helping, supporting and loving. The Principal of the college, members of the Board of Trustees and Lana took their places on the small stage at one end of the hall. The Principal called the gathering to order and then welcomed everyone to this graduation ceremony for the first intake of students. He spoke briefly of the support the community had offered to the school, the changes that he had seen take place in the students, his gratitude, and that of the community, for Lana's involvement with the program and as principal tutor of the course and mentor for the students. He congratulated the students on graduating from the course and sincerely thanked all the support people who had accompanied these students through the changes they had made to themselves during the past year. He then called on Lana to give her final address to the students. I took the stage, the microphone and a deep breath, fighting back the tears of emotion as I looked into the eyes of the beautiful people I had guided during the year and who would soon be free to live their lives and to achieve their highest goals. I took a deep breath and began: "Today is a day you will remember for the rest of your lives. I know how far you have come during the year, many of you from broken homes, some of which you have helped to mend; many of you given the choice of this course or jail; most of you have given up drugs during the year, a very worthwhile outcome in itself; many of you chose this course instead of life on the streets which would quite possibly have led to your early deaths. I know how far you have come this year because I also have taken your journey. I also came from a broken home, was unwanted, uncared for, unloved. I also risked my life on the streets of this great country, and I also came through with scars and increased wisdom." I paused to take a sip of water and compose myself as much as possible. "During the year we have concentrated on your stories; showing that these are just stories, they do not bear any relationship to who you really are, what your potential really is or what your capabilities are for the betterment of yourself, the community and humankind in general. So today I would like to finish this course by telling you my story so that you know why this course even exists and how come you have learned the skills, attitudes and wisdom that you will leave with today. "As a young child my parents were always fighting. I never felt safe in my own home. Usually my father was drunk, very often my mother was stoned, we had little or no food to eat and frequently I had to scrounge what I could from other people's rubbish bins. By the age of 11 I was street-wise, I knew how to con money off people who had any, I had been caught shoplifting many times and I had been sexually abused by my father and other men on many occasions. I knew how it felt to be threatened with death, to be hungry, thirsty and to be completely unwanted and unloved. The authorities gave me one last chance; I was to remain in the custody of my grandmother or be incarcerated in a government children's home. My grandmother took me in, cared for me, taught me and showed me what kindness and humanity really was. "One of my grandmother's greatest teachings was the importance of language. People judge us first by how we speak, write or communicate. People who are well spoken, who enunciate words clearly, who have a wide vocabulary and who pronounce their words correctly are far more easily accepted in mainstream society than those who do not. This is the communication age, they say, yet very many people have not learned how to communicate. You have only to read the writings of those who send texts, write blogs, contribute to Facebook, write emails and tweet to realize that there is a vast apparent gulf between those who can communicate their thoughts concisely and clearly and those who simply burble. The world has less and less time for burblers. That is why I have focused so much of this course on communication skills. Use them wisely, say or write what you think and mean, yet do it with compassion, especially for those who have not yet learnt the skills of communication that you now have. If in doubt ask, 'What would love say or do now?' before you respond. "Another great teaching of my grandmother was manners. As I have mentioned before, one of her favourite sayings was 'Manners maketh the man'. Ironically she also said 'Clothes maketh the man' as well, so I guess they were both important. Manners are the oil that lubricate society. Without oil a car engine grinds to a halt; without manners, society does likewise. You have only a few seconds and only one opportunity to make a good first impression. You can do this with your clothing, with your manners and with your language. So those are the big three that will ease your way through life. Ignore them at your peril." I paused, collecting my thoughts to continue with my story. "I remember well receiving a text from my mother. The words were terse and to the point: 'Your grandmother has died. Her final request was that you be at her funeral which is on Thursday, 3pm at St David's Church, 235th St, Jamaica, NY. You know the one she went to each Sunday. She will be buried in the nearby Montefiore Cemetery. Be there.' "When I received that text I was being held in virtual slavery in San Francisco by a guy I had thought I loved. I realized too late that he didn't love me; he just wanted to use me as his sex slave and to provide him with money for drugs. He would beat me frequently and abuse me regularly, threatening me that if I ran away he would find me and kill me. I stayed; I didn't think I had an option." My thoughts went back to the second floor, two room apartment, dingy wallpaper falling off the wall, a squeaky bed in the main bedroom where Dingo (his parents were Australian) would fuck me roughly, intentionally hurting me; where he would bring me 'clients' for me to fuck, collecting their money before they entered so he could buy the drugs he was addicted to. I pictured the small corner of the other room that was the kitchen, a place where we made endless coffees and ate takeaways from the local grease shop. I remembered the few occasions when we went outside, breathing the fresh air off the docks as we watched the ships come and go in the harbor. How I longed to run away on one of those ships, even prostituting myself for the sailors would be better than the life I was leading. When I received the text I knew I had to go. My grandmother was the only person in the world who had ever cared for me, loved me, taught me. Nothing could stop me from being at her funeral. I didn't feel sad for her death, which surprised me, just certain that come hell or high water, I had to get to New York for her funeral. "Dingo, my grandmother died. I got a text from my Mom. She wants me at the funeral on Thursday. I have to leave now; I only have four days to get there." "Fuck off! I've got you some clients for today. You're not fuckin' lettin' them down. You're such a slut that you love being fucked by these guys I bring to you. And I know you don't want to leave me, do you? You've never really wanted to leave poor old Dingo." "Yes, I do have to go, I do have to leave you, and I do not intend to come back." "I've told you I'll kill you if you leave," he snarled. "I'll hunt you down and kill you, you mark my words." "I just have to take that chance because I have to be at that funeral. She is the only person who has ever cared for me in my whole life." "No fuckin' way are you goin', girl. Come here now." I ignored his demand, instead going to my wardrobe and starting to sort out what I would need to take with me. I selected a white top and black skirt, the only decent clothes I had, with a pair of black shoes suitable for a funeral and a black jacket and stuffed them into a backpack. He grabbed be from behind, arm around my throat, throttling me. I reached for the only weapon I had, a carefully hidden, very sharp knife I kept behind the wardrobe door. I stabbed between my legs, upwards into his crotch. He released me. I'll never forget the look on his face as I turned around and saw him clasping his groin with bloodied hands. "You fuckin' bitch!" he yelled, "Stab me would you. I'll teach you a lesson." He came for me then and I defended myself, fear and hate giving my arms and legs strength. I stabbed again, upwards into his stomach area. He collapsed backwards onto the bed, blood pouring from the wound, the fight gone from him. I looked at him, wondering if I'd killed him or not. "Tough if I have," I thought. I grabbed my backpack with the few clothes in it, grabbed what money I could find from Dingo's stash, took the keys to his car, my cellphone, a couple of pairs of panties and ran out of the apartment, down the stairs and out onto the street. It was the first time in over a year I had been on the street without Dingo. I found his car, opened the door and tried to start it. The motor turned over but wouldn't catch. I glanced in the rearview mirror. Dingo was staggering out of the doorway, coming towards the car. "Oh, please start, please, you have to start," I talked frantically to the car as he approached. The car started as he reached it. I pulled the auto into D, released the brake and took off down the road, with Dingo's bloody handprints on the window. I headed for I-80, which I knew would take me all the way to New York, if the car would last that long. "After I left I travelled east along I-80, heading home with nearly 3000 miles to go. The people I met on that journey changed my life forever. I have spoken to you before of how you will meet the perfect people at the perfect time, if only you allow yourself to be led by your heart. That is what happened to me. "I stopped along the way to put some gas in the tank - Dingo always kept it nearly empty to make it harder for petrol thieves to siphon it out - half filling the tank with enough gas to get me to Sacramento. Heading along I-80 I relaxed a little, the purr of the engine and hum of the tires lulling me into a false sense of security. However, it wasn't destined to be that easy. I had travelled less than 40 miles when the car coughed once and the motor stopped with a shriek. I pulled to the side of the road, opened the hood and looked helplessly inside at the smoking mess. "I knew little about cars and I didn't want to mess about with trying to fix an engine. I checked the dipstick - dry. It must be out of oil. There seemed to be no point in staying with the car now, I would be far better off hitching a ride. So I shouldered my bag and started walking along the road." My mind went back to that time; I had never felt as alone as I did walking away from the car on the main highway with cars zipping past, hopefully sticking out my thumb in case someone took pity on me. "After about 20 minutes a car slowed down and stopped beside me. A well-dressed guy was driving and the woman sitting in the passenger seat wound down her window and asked politely where I was heading. Once they found I was going to New York, she told me they could take me to Sacramento where they lived. I gratefully climbed into the back seat and we continued the journey. When we arrived at their home they invited me in, gave me a lovely dinner and offered me a bed for the night, which I accepted. I went to bed early, exhausted by the events of the day." I remembered feeling very fortunate to have been picked up by this lovely couple as I sank into the soft leather seats of their car. It turned out that he was a minister of the church and had been to San Francisco to take a service and they were now heading back to their home on the outskirts of Sacramento on I-80, so it would be real handy for me to continue my journey tomorrow. They offered me dinner and a bed for the night if I wanted to stay. I accepted their invitation, feeling safe and secure for the first time I could remember. After a delicious home-cooked dinner I went to bed early so I could leave early in the morning. I went to sleep very quickly, but was awakened in the middle of the night by the feeling of someone pressing down on the bed. Before I could react in any way a hand pressed down hard onto my mouth and a whispered voice had told me to not make a sound or I would be hurt. I could tell by the voice that it was the minister. He continued talking to me gently, telling me how his wife was cold sexually and that he got so horny with no relief that a young woman like me would surely take pity on him after he had stopped and given her a ride, putting the whole guilt trip on me so that he would get to fuck me and get his rocks off. This was the last thing I needed after the long period of sexual slavery I had endured. As he said these words he was pushing his other hand under my top, cupping my breasts and pinching the nipples. He then moved his hand between my legs, pushing aside my panties and stroking my pussy. It almost felt nice, but it was not what I wanted now. I bit his hand, hard. He let out a yell and slapped me across the face. I reached up and scratched my nails down the side of his face, thinking that that would take some explaining to his wife. He cried out again. I pushed him off the bed, feeling fortunate that I had slept fully clothed, grabbed my bag and made a dash for the door, slamming it in his face behind me. I found my way out of the house and ran onto the road. I had no idea of the time, my urgent need was to get away from the place as fast as possible. "I was awakened during the night by the guy coming into my room with the apparent intention of having sex with me. I managed to escape from him and from the house and started hitching on the highway again. "There was little traffic now so I decided that there was no point simply walking, the distance I would cover was negligible, but rather I should stand under a street light so drivers could see me more easily. Wearing a white PVC skirt was helpful as well, although I must admit that I must have looked pretty slutty dressed in that short skirt with a thin top tied at the waist. "After a short time I heard a big rig coming down the highway and heard his air brakes go on. He slowed and stopped beside me. The driver wound down the passenger window and asked me what I was doing hitching at night; did I want to get killed or something. I replied no and told him I was heading to New York. He laughed, said he couldn't take me that far but to jump in and he'd tell me what he could offer. Well, it seemed better to do that than to wait by the side of the road so I climbed into the cab and we started off down the road." I remember being extremely nervous about this guy. I'd heard of truckers, a wife in every town and a few girls besides, and I was still in shock after almost being raped by a minister. If I couldn't trust a minister, why should I trust a trucker? However, beggars can't be choosers, as they say, so I resolved to be on my guard and was pleased that every turn of the wheels reduced my distance to New York. "It turned out that he was heading to a place called Glenwood Springs, about half way between San Francisco and Chicago where I could stay in the truck with a different driver who would bring a truck from Chicago and then take this truck back there. He told me his name was Brad, that he lived in San Francisco with his wife and two children, and this way he saw a lot more of them than if he went right through to Chicago and back again. It worked well for him and for Tony, the driver of the other truck, and worked well for the company because they had fewer days when they had to pay drivers expenses for food and accommodation. So he pointed out it was a win-win-win situation and told me that you should always try for these as that meant you made the best decisions. He was full of these little philosophical bits of advice. "I'd had quite a day and was tired, so I almost nodded off. He told me there was a bed behind the curtains at the back of the cab and I was very welcome to stretch out there and have a decent sleep. So I did that and nodded off in the bed in the warm cab with the gentle hum of the diesel engine and the movement of the truck rocking me to sleep." I remembered feeling that this was heaven after what I had been through that day. I was dog tired, had my emotions and nerves stretched to the limit. For the second time tonight I was offered a warm comfortable bed and for the second time I went to sleep quickly, feeling that I could trust Brad. I slept well and long, and it was several hours later that I subconsciously noted that the truck had stopped and the engine was no longer running. Next thing I knew the curtain was gently pulled back and Brad was carefully and quietly lying himself down on the bed next to me. 'Oh shit,' I thought, 'Not twice in one night.' I felt around for a weapon to use for defence and found a large bolt down the side of the mattress. I clasped hold of it, ready to swing it hard at his head. He carefully lay down, facing away from me, pulled a blanket over him and proceeded to go to sleep. I let the bolt drop from my fingers and slowly relaxed. Sleep overcame me once again. I woke much later when Brad stirred as he got up. He offered me breakfast at the truckstop diner we were parked alongside. I really needed a bathroom and climbed down, for that, having a wonderful breakfast of coffee and pancakes in the diner with Brad afterwards. He explained that he needed to have a rest stop on the way to Glenwood Springs and again on the way home, and that Tony would also need a rest on the way to Chicago. He apologized if he made me nervous when he lay next to me and said he should have told me that would happen before I went to sleep. "We stopped for a sleep on the way and he behaved like a real gentleman, not even trying any funny business, although I'll admit I was a bit nervous at first. We had breakfast about lunchtime then headed on our way, getting to Glenwood Springs about dusk. He and Tony swapped trucks and I thanked him for the ride. We hugged each other, the first loving, non-sexual hug I had had for many years. Going Home "Tony turned out to be quite a character, keen on telling jokes and funny anecdotes about his experiences on the road. He was also a true gentleman, explaining that he would be having a sleep in the cab bed but I was welcome to stay there while he did. He also was married and they lived in Chicago with their three children. So as the night got later and the warmth of the cab started making me drowsy, I climbed into the bed and slept like a log, trusting Tony completely." I smiled as I remembered Tony. He was a real nice guy and we got on very well. After many chuckles at stories he told, I found myself feeling the effects of a couple of days on the road. It's strange how emotional trauma takes time to come out. As I lay in the cab bed I relived some of the memories of the past few years and found myself sobbing uncontrollably at the emotions that these memories brought up. I was grateful for the noise of the truck hiding my sobbing from Tony. After a while I drifted off to sleep, waking in the late morning bursting for a pee and hungry for breakfast. Tony also bought me breakfast of bacon and eggs and coffee. "The next day went quickly and by dusk we were pulling into Chicago. I was really sorry we had arrived because I now had to go out into the wide world and fend for myself again. It's amazing how you can become so dependent so quickly. I thanked Tony sincerely and for the second time in two days had a loving, non-sexual hug. He dropped me on the exit road on I-80 from Chicago, with his final wisdom being 'You take care out there, y'hear.' "I stood by the road feeling more lonely and sorry for myself that I had for a long time. The changes in my situation were really playing with my head. Shortly a sedan came along and pulled over. There were a young guy and girl in the front and another guy and girl in the back. They asked where I was heading and when I said New York, they laughed and said get in anyway, and told me they were going to Detroit and could drop me off at the turnoff or they could take me all the way there and I was welcome to go to the party they were attending. I chose the party, not because I was in a party mood, but because I thought company would be safer than hitching at night. I was wrong, as it turned out, but survived the night and thumbed a ride back to the intersection the next morning." These people had made me nervous, which I found interesting because they were about my age but they also had a 'couldn't care less' attitude about them. However, I sat in the back seat with the guy in the middle and the girl on the other side. We drove through the dark, the guy spending a lot of time kissing his girlfriend and, I suspect a great deal more than that judging by the movement that was occurring. I then felt his hand on my thigh, gently moving up and down caressing my skin. 'Here we go again,' I thought. I carefully removed his hand, and he bent over and whispered in my ear 'You don't know what's good for you. Don't you want a bit of fun?' I told him I didn't so he left me alone for a while. Around 10.30 we reached the turnoff from the I-80 and the car pulled over. I was asked if I wanted to be dropped here or head to Detroit and come to the party with them. It was a hot rod club that they belonged to and I was told there would be heaps of great guys and chicks and I should come along for a good time. Well, I could do without a good time, but at this time of night company rather than taking my chances on the highway was possibly the best option. I agreed to accompany them to the party. There were about 150 young people, late teens, early twenties, gathered in a huge barn on a farm. Facilities were basically nonexistent. A band was playing rock music which people were trying to dance to as they rapidly became drunk or stoned on a wide variety of drugs. It seemed the only liquid available was alcoholic, no food was apparent, beds were broken up bales of hay scattered beside the walls of the barn and many of these were already occupied by couples having sex. Company was one thing, this orgy was totally different. Before I knew it I was grabbed by a couple of guys and dragged to the dance floor. After a few dances they took an arm each and walked me outside. I struggled to get away but they held me firmly, dragging me at one stage until we reached a hay barn where the smell of the fresh hay smelt really good. They almost threw me onto a pile of hay and while one held my hands above my head with a hand over my mouth, not that anyone would have heard my screams above the noise of the party, the other reached under my skirt and pulled my panties down to my ankles. He then used his knees to push mine apart and unzipped his fly, letting his erection pop out. "You're goin' love this, honey," he drawled as he spat on his fingers and wiped it on my pussy, "Now just relax and enjoy it." He moved forwards, his weight heavy on my legs and I tried to wriggle my hips to push him off. He was not to be denied. I felt his cock press against my entrance and then the excruciating pain of his dry cock entering my unprepared tunnel. I tried to scream but it was muted by the hand pressed firmly on my mouth. I tried to bite it but my teeth just slipped over the skin. He withdrew, then pushed in again. "Geez you're tight and dry," he complained, rubbing more spit on his cock before pushing back in, slightly less painful now. It took only a few minutes of fucking before he came, spurting his cum in my unprotected cunt. Thank god I was on the pill! He withdrew and they swapped places, the second guy having no problem inserting his cock into my cunt, now well-lubricated by his predecessor's cum. A couple of minutes and it was all over. He squeezed my nipples and they both walked out, leaving me painful and feeling abused, but also strangely sexually frustrated. I sobbed in humiliation. Even though I had been raped many times before, I had never come to accept it. Eventually I slept. Next morning I awoke and found the place quiet, everyone sleeping. I went towards the road and started hitching, getting a ride to the turnoff at Perrysburg with a couple who were heading west. I thanked them for the ride, had breakfast, although it was closer to lunchtime, and hitched eastward. "Hitching was really slow and it wasn't until mid-afternoon that I got a ride with a negro couple and their two children in a battered station wagon. Normally I would have passed up this ride but I was running out of time and wanted to get to Harrisburg that night. How wrong I was in my estimate of these lovely people. As we travelled on I began to relax, enjoying their conversation and playing a few games with their children in the back seat. These people looked rough and had been subjected to prejudice all their lives. They had dropped out of school and had part time menial work, not really paying enough to support themselves, let alone raise a family as well." I paused as I remembered that day; hitching was slow for some reason and I was starting to get a bit concerned when an old station wagon with a couple on the front and two young kids loose in the back pulled over. They didn't look the best prospect I'd ever seen but it was getting to the stage where I couldn't afford to be choosy. "Where y'headin'?" the woman in the front seat asked. "New York. Hoping to get as far as Harrisburg tonight," I replied. "Yeah, we're headin' that way. Jump in." She turned to the kids in the back. "Jethro, Ali, make some room for the lady. You cain't hog the whole seat." I climbed into the back of the wagon. "Thank you so much," I said, "Hitching has been very slow today. I'm Lana by the way." "Hi Lana. I'm Rita and this is my hubby Sam. You already heard our kids are Jethro and Ali. Why you goin' to New York?" "I have my grandmother's funeral tomorrow." "Oh, I'm really sad to hear that, sweetie. You musta been real close to travel all that way to her funeral. Where ya come from, honey?" "San Francisco." "Wow, you really must love your granny." "She basically raised me. My parents were pretty hopeless and I learnt all I know from my gran." "Yeah, know what that's like, eh Sam. Our parents were both useless too. Real hard raisin' kids with no grandparents to help. Still, we do our best with what the good Lord gives us." "We stopped for dinner at a roadside cafe and filled the car with gas. I offered to pay for the gas but they wouldn't hear of it, and in fact insisted on paying for my dinner. These people who had so little were absolutely emphatic that they share what they had with me. I was deeply humbled; they taught me a great deal about the value of life and of consideration for others. "Around 11pm we arrived at their home on the outskirts of Harrisburg. They told me that I was very welcome to stay with them and, in fact, insisted that I do so, pointing out it was a bit late to find accommodation now. So I slept on a spare mattress on their living room floor, waking early when their children awoke." I recalled the gratitude I felt for these wonderful people who had taken me under their wings, so to speak, and insisted on caring for and nurturing me at their cost. It still brings tears to my eyes to remember the caring affection this couple and their children showed me in the short time I was with them. Never again will I judge people based on any sort of prejudice. I remembered waking at dawn to their children gazing at me like a zoo exhibit, large eyes shining and smiles on their faces. They gave me breakfast and again, when I offered them some money for their trouble and expenses, they refused point blank, saying they were very grateful for the opportunity that the Lord had given them to show their caring and hospitality to someone in need. Sam even drove me to the I-78 highway to New York. "After and early breakfast Sam drove me to the main highway to hitch the last five hours to New York. This was a very uneventful day, although it took three rides to make it to the city, then I caught a bus to the church. I arrived with only a few minutes to spare and had changed into my presentable clothes at the toilets down the street. "I saw my mother in the front row of the congregation but on attempting to sit beside her she simply waved me away, pointing to the back of the church. After the service I managed to get a ride to the cemetery for the burial. "As I left the graveside I noticed two New York police heading towards me. They introduced themselves, asked if I was Lana Peterson, and after I said I was, they told me that they had a request from the FBI in relation to the death of a person in San Francisco and requested that I accompany them. They dutifully handcuffed me and took me away in their Police cruiser." I was devastated both at being arrested and that I had taken a human life, even such a low-life as Dingo. I remember being processed at the station and locked up. Obviously, with no money or support from relatives, I couldn't make bail, but it did solve the problem of accommodation and meals. I remembered with gratitude the witnesses and neighbors from San Francisco who testified on my behalf, backing up the truth that I had struck out at Dingo in self-defense and verifying that I had been held in sexual slavery for a long time. Possibly the most important thing to come out of this was the local community leader who pleaded with the police to allow me to start the course, whose graduates I was now addressing, in an effort to reduce crime, drug addiction and prostitution among young people in New York. I was found guilty of second degree murder but due to the nature of the offence, the long-term provocation and the assault that resulted in my retaliation, my sentence was to be one year's community work in establishing and teaching this course. "Once all the paper work and the trial were completed, I ended up a convicted felon who was directed to establish and teach the course from which you have just graduated. So that is how it all happened. Along the way I have learnt a great deal about people and about myself, just as you have this year. I hope that you can also benefit from your learning as I did from mine. "Your main task now is to stay clean. You know what it feels like; you have each other for support. I intend to run this course each year from now on, changing the lives of young people who have been given a very rough start in life. I would like you to help them by telling them about this course, about how there is another way and a better life. "Thank you for being on this course. I have learnt a great deal from you. Please go into the community and help wherever possible to bring those most in need to future courses so that we can truly be proud of the young people of New York. Congratulations once again; you are all wonderful people and it has been a pleasure and a privilege to have taught you and learnt from you this year. I wish you well for your futures." Everyone in the hall stood, clapping and cheering. After they had been presented with their graduation certificates they all individually thanked Lana for her love, courage, support and the teaching she had given them. They then all left the hall, heads held high, with their parents, relatives and support people. Those on stage thanked Lana for her work with the youth of New York. They were adamant that the course had made a huge difference, not only to these young people but to all youth because these graduates were now the shining lights going forth into the community. It could only get bigger and better. They all recognized that Lana was the best possible person to run this program because she had the skills and abilities, and also, of equal importance, she had the street credibility by having walked her talk. Epilogue: Lana was walking home from the school after the graduation ceremony, elated by the success of her first course and the differences her past students' had made to their lives. She was still buzzing from the accolades she had just received at the ceremony. It was dark and cold, with a hint of snow flurries in the air and her mind was far away from what was happening in close proximity. She barely had time to notice the shadowy figure step out from the alleyway a few feet in front of her. She certainly didn't have time to register the two shots that were fired into her heart at point blank range before she dropped dead on the pavement. The shadowy figure stepped back into the alleyway and took out his cellphone, dialing a number he knew well. "She's dead." "Great. Can't have do-gooders reforming our clients, can we. Bad for business. Good work." Going Home Years ago I left home planning to get my military service out of the way before moving on to what I really wanted to do. Twenty-two years and many military assignments later, I am nearing 41 years old and have only known the military way of life. I forgot what it was I really wanted to do. I have only myself and my few belongings packed into my pickup. Fortunately, I have a cab-over camper in the bed of the truck and not dependent on roadside motels. I forgot which highway I was on only remembering my next destination, Elliott. I was about an hour away. Elliott is a town I remember growing up, it is rural, low population, a community built around farming and farmers. I knew no one in the town with my plan to stay at the Elliott campground for a couple days of cleaning up and laundry. After that...? After that was a final 70 miles to where I grew up, my hometown where I hadn't visited in years. Why was I even considering going back there? Everything that once was for me 'at home,' probably doesn't exist any longer. ********** I pulled to the side of the road atop a hill overlooking my hometown. Modernization changed the skyline. Where once stood two and three story department stores, furniture stores, and a couple theaters, now stood steel and glass monuments to business. The last couple miles rolled under my tires and quickly, I was on a street only vaguely familiar, the street where I grew up. I parked, got out, and began to quietly walk the sidewalks I'd played on in my youth. Visions of the faces of kids I used to play with entered my minds eye. For a brief moment of recollection, we played again. The block had aged. There were no children playing, and the few folks out and about were my age and older. I said hello to a couple people and was able to strike up a conversation with one or two. I shared my memories pointing out family names that once lived in this house or that. "I grew up in the last house at the dead end." There were snippets of detail that led me to believe most of those who had been neighbors no longer lived nearby. Such is the case, grow up and move on. I sat in my truck for a moment of reflection. ********** With no one in the neighborhood from my youthful days, home became a past memory, a lost memory of times when I was care free and innocent. I pined for those days and all my neighborhood friends. Had I made a mistake or was this stop just another in long list of places I wanted to visit one more time? I wanted to pull away from the curb and point my truck down the road and away from what could never be again; yet, I dallied. Once more I felt youthful afternoons spent running up and down the street with friends, playing games of tag or hide and seek. I was lost in memories. My moment of recollection lasted until I heard a tapping on the passenger side window. Standing on the curb was a younger woman, late 20s, I thought, not older than early 30s. Her features resembled those of the family who lived three doors down from where I grew up. She must have been no more than nine or ten when I left home. I couldn't put a name to the face. I lowered the window and we gave our greetings. "You are Fred Flicka, aren't you?" She was smiling brightly and I was shocked she knew my name. "I don't blame you for not remembering me, Fred. I'm Terrie Addams. I was nine or ten when you left." Terrie had been a skinny beanpole of a girl who was as much Tomboy as girl. Life had been kind to her as she was now a very attractive adult woman. I alighted from the truck and walked to curbside. We extended hands and shook. "Terrie, I recognized the family resemblance but, sorry, I didn't recognize you all grown up. What happened to the little bean-pole Tomboy?" She smiled, "I guess you approve of the changes in appearance. How come you never came home all these years?" That was the question I was unprepared to answer. When I left for the military, I wanted to escape my narrowly defined world and explore what existed beyond this town, state, and country. "Terrie, I knew a bigger world existed and I was determined to see it. All." "Did you see it, Fred?" The expression on her face was one of jealousy mixed with dismay and wonder. "I found places of great wonder, of great surprise, and great distress. The world is rich in surprise and poor in its treatment of underprivileged. The contrast between rich beauty and dirty poverty is disheartening." Terrie's expression didn't change much, "I wish I could see the world just as you saw, or see, it." "You can, Terrie. You have to take the risk. Do what moves you and don't look back." In the back of my mind was the nagging thought that if she wanted to take the risk, my pickup has room for one more and the camper can sleep two as easily as one. "Tell me about your life from then to now, Terrie. I'd like to know." ********** Terrie's story sounded similar to stories I'd heard before. Married young, divorced young, no children, stuck in a rut, and afraid to force a change. In the almost hour that we sat on the curb and talked, I knew Terrie needed to occupy the other seat in my truck. "Fred, pull your truck into my driveway and let me make you a nice meal before you hit the road again." I smiled thanking her for the offer. "Might that include a nice hot shower and a couple loads of laundry?" A twinkle emerged in Terrie's eyes; she quickly rose, tried the door handle on the passenger side and jumped in. I followed her lead and sat behind the wheel for a drive of 30 seconds. Parked, we jumped out with Terrie taking the lead again. "Bring in whatever it is that you need to wash. I'll show you where everything is. You can get a shower and laundry started while I work on something special." The thought of something special played on me while I started a load of wash and showered. I hadn't been close with anyone in a long time, yet, I felt closeness with Terrie that both excited and frightened me in the same instant. I shaved off my four-day growth and dressed in clean fresh clothes. I watched as Terrie spun some fresh vegetables into a tasty stir-fry. When I saw the steak on the grill, I knew she was cooking up something special. "Its hot on the outside, tender, pink, and juicy on the inside, Fred. I hope that's the way you like it." I did not misinterpret the wink of her eye and I wondered if Terrie was on her way to taking a first risk? "Hot, tender, pink, and juicy, hum, sounds like something I can devour." The steak was just as she said and the stir-fry was a great complement to it. Terrie kept conversation going as we ate. She was full of questions about my travels, places I'd seen, and things I'd done. Time raced by as we talked. Terrie wanted to hear everything in complete detail. Like a sponge, she soaked up every word. When my laundry loads were finished and folded, I wondered again if Terrie was open to riding into the sunset with me. I wasn't going to boldly blurt my thoughts; however, thinking them couldn't hurt. I laid the clean clothes near the door making no move to load them back in the truck. It was my turn to quiz Terrie and we launched into another getting better-acquainted conversation. I learned that the house Terrie lived in was a rental, not hers. "After I married, my family sold this place. When I got divorced, I tried to buy it but no sale. What few things I own are mostly clothes. I don't even own the furniture. So, like you said, I'm 33 and all I have to do is take a risk." With that said, Terrie unknowingly sealed her fate, or I hoped she had. "How much more time do you have remaining on your lease," I asked. When Terrie told me she had no lease and her rent was due in a few days, I ceased on the opportunity. "Terrie, look me directly in the eye and answer me, do you want to take a risk?" Terrie slid across the sofa we were sitting on, she did look me in the eye, and I saw her answer before she gave it. "Yes!" I took her hand saying, "Seal it with a kiss." ********** What a kiss! Full on open mouth, tongue dueling, body tingling, groping, make love to me now, I want it, and need it kiss. A military man never surrenders of his own free will; however, I'm not military any longer and surrender, I did. Terrie took my hand and stood. Taking the lead again, she pulled me to my feet and began another round of hot kissing and groping. Then she drew me up stairs to her bedroom. Her lunchtime words she repeated with deep sensuality, "Hot on the outside, tender, pink, and juicy on the inside." I knew she felt my raging hard on and there was hiding the large lump of cock straining against my zipper. Terrie didn't wait on formalities. She fell to her knees, unbuckled my pants and pulled them and my under shorts to my knees. Terrie gasped as my cock sprang up. I'm kind of thick, over two inches, and length over seven inches. Following the gasp came an open mouth to engulf my cock head. Terrie sucked as much of me into her mouth as she could take and gagged on the length. She was beyond slowing down and even as I warned her, she sucked me harder. I erupted like a volcano. Terrie's eyes widened as I sprayed her throat with sperm; she swallowed every bit. She rose and I drew her tightly into me. We kissed deeply and furiously. The slight taste of my cum was not at all disgusting to her or me. Terrie's arms encircled me as she grasped at the cheeks of my ass. She drew me into her grip while my own hands explored her body. She was still dressed until my fingers found the zipper of her slacks. As the zipper tab began breaking each tooth apart, Terrie moaned. She wiggled her hips against me, kissed me furiously, and begged me to touch her. With pants open, I turned my attention to her top. It was a knit top that I eased up over her stomach, up over her breasts, and over her head and off. Her pants hit the floor with her top. I shed my shirt also. Terrie unhooked her bra and her firm breasts appeared capped by stiff swollen nipples. With fingers of both hands, I pinched each nipple causing Terrie to gasp and moan loudly. With fingertips just barely making contact with her skin, I slid my hands down until they encountered the elastic of her panty. My fingers hooked the top of the panty and drew it down over hips to fully expose her secret garden. I was in awe of her sensually. It was now my turn to repay a kindness with kindness. I fell to my knees to begin laving kisses on her thighs while being careful to avoid the hidden juncture. The bed was only a pace behind us. Terrie sensed my thoughts as she stepped backward only to let herself free fall to the mattress. Terrie opened herself to me offering herself fully. She smiled as I looked up into her face. I smiled in return, lowered my head onto her love tunnel, and tasted her musk. Terrie screamed in orgasm from just that little lick. I was like a drunken soldier trying not to slobber as I drank her offering. Terrie remained at her orgasmic peak for a long time. Was I guessing correctly, it had been a while for her with another person? She slowly returned to her rational self. "Holy fuck, Fred! That's the orgasm I have always wanted." She was still panting and pinching her breasts. "Terrie, do I need protection," I asked as I brought my cock in close to its bull?s eye. Terrie thrashed her head side to side, "I want you, Fred, not protection." Terrie's legs dangled over the edge of the bed. She was a hot sensually and sexually excited woman wanting this badly. Yet, I sensed that she might not be ready for me to slam home hard and fast. "Terrie, when was the last time you had a man?" She read the concern on my face and smiled that infectious smile. "A long time, Fred. But that won't stop you or me. Give it to me slowly." Gently, I pressed into her tiny opening, Terrie pressed back. She accepted the full thickness of my cock head and whimpered, "So good." "Terrie, what do you want?" I wish I could remember the old movie her next line came from; she cried out in a moan, "Please, sir, I want some more." I began pushing into her with no resistance; she was highly lubricated from her intense orgasm. I slid forward, deeper into her. It felt like the most natural thing we'd ever done together. I rested my hips between hers with my cock completely encased in her fire-hot pussy. We groped and kissed, fondled and licked for several long seconds until Terrie pressed against me. It was her signal to start the dance. I withdrew slightly and pushed back. Each stroke became longer the previous until only my cock head remained hidden. With my full length and full weight, I slammed my cock hard and deep. Terrie screamed out but not in pain. "Oh, Fred! Fred, oh yes. I feel you." We began moving faster into each other. When Terrie raised her legs high over me waist, I hooked my arms behind her knees almost doubling her and getting even deeper access to her pulsing pussy. I knew Terrie was getting closer to another orgasm because she gripped my cock hard with her vaginal muscles. Terrie involuntarily thrust her hips into me and gushed a wet and deep orgasm. I hit my high and jettisoned another load of sperm, this time deep in Terrie's unprotected pussy. We rode each other until our orgasms subsided. We were exhausted from the sex, as we remained connected. After two cums, I went limp. I rolled to Terrie's side in post orgasmic bliss as Terrie rolled atop me. I was pretty sure that we were not done. "Fred," Terrie began to confess, "I have never had an orgasm with a man before you." I held her in my arms, rubbing her back, and massaging her butt cheeks. She kissed my neck as I kissed hers. She rocked her hips against mine trying to get a rise from my cock. I responded slowly. Terrie's body and her attention to mine got me semi hard, hard enough for her to take me into her again. She sat on my hips cowgirl and rocked on me, my cock getting harder. We knew this session would last a long time. Terrie spoke softly as she rode me to my full hardness. "Fred, I had a little girl crush on you when I was nine." A moan escaped her, then a sigh. "I wanted you to know that. Then you left me. Don't leave me again!" The last sentence came out in as a cry of her surrender and desire for my surrender to her. She was taking risks. "I'm home now, Terrie." Maybe I didn't give her the entire response she wanted. Maybe me she was in her moment of having her little girl crush satisfied. Maybe she was already falling in love. What was I ready for I questioned myself? Terrie lifted herself off my cock only to take a position on all fours. She presented her gaping pussy to me and I did the only thing that made sense at the moment. I began licking her pussy again, tasting our combined nectar. I found her very sensitive clit and licked across it. She spewed more of our juices. I wanted to be in her more and took my place behind her. "Yes, Terrie, I'm home," I moaned as I drove into her. ********** We spent a long night in her bed, at times fucking like we were mad animals, and at times making love as perfect lovers. I awoke in the morning knowing that I had some soul searching to do. "Terrie," I began as we sipped coffee and ate toast, "I have to contact a lawyer here in town about whatever inheritance I have from my family. I may need to spend a few days getting my affairs in order." I didn't get to finish my thought before Terrie finished it for me. "You'll stay here, then." I knew staying with Terrie was exactly what I wanted to do. There were many steps involved in getting my inheritance in order. After all, it has sat unclaimed for years. Even finding a lawyer to help was difficult. After three days of effort, the estate finally transferred and I got a list of my new assets. One of my assets was a house. Not just a house, the house Terrie lived in. I was her landlord and there was an escrow account with four years of rent payments on account. I knew taking rent from her was no longer an option. Late in the afternoon of Thursday, the week I came home, I sat down with Terrie. I wanted to get our feelings in the open. "There aren't too many more things I need to get in order, Terrie. One major hurdle remains and that is how I plan to handle the house I didn't know I owned. There is a renter in it and I don't want to put anyone out." "Why don't you stay with me, your renter could continue having a place to stay and you would too. I'm getting fond of you, you may have guessed." "I know that and I'm very fond of you. That's why my decision is made." I took Terrie's hand in mine and lead her toward the bedroom; I wanted to make love. Terrie sensed the moment as well. We embraced in a tangle of arms and legs. Clothing got discarded on the floor. We fell onto the mattress in a lovers embrace. Terrie opened herself to me, we knew we were lovers and in love. I penetrated her, she engulfed me, we were one body. We made love on into the evening, kissing, sucking, licking, tasting. Our passion did not wane even after mutual orgasms. Terrie was not going to be easily satisfied tonight. We parted only to have Terrie turn onto her stomach presenting her pussy to me from behind. Mounting her like this meant my cock would rub against her G-spot and give her a deep orgasm. Her cries of orgasm filled the bedroom and the whole house. In one loud final scream, Terrie yelled out, "I love you, Fred." My own orgasm overtook me as I heard Terrie's expression of love. With a clear mind, I kissed her tenderly and told her of my love. Ultimately, hunger for food drove us to dress. In the kitchen, Terrie handed me an envelope addressed to the leasing company. "Put this in the mail for me tomorrow. Its my rent check." I smiled as I took the envelope and tore it up. "Your lease expired." Shock registered on Terrie's face then quickly changed to understanding. "You've been my guest in your home!" "And now we are lovers in our home." Going Home He showed her where things were kept and told her he wanted something hot to drink, then left her alone as he went to feed his horse and put her in for the night. She made a pot of coffee, strong and black the way she knew he liked it. She looked around for something to go with it, but the cupboards were as bare as ever and she made a mental note to ask where the nearest town was so she could buy them something decent. She decided that if she had to play homemaker for a while, she'd do it to the best of her ability, not minding the thought of waiting on this man that she loved unconditionally. She set the little table with plates and knives and spoons and laid out bread and butter and jam and rummaged around to find some cheddar to go with it. By the time everything was ready, he'd returned, smelling of hay and horses. For some reason, on him, it was a pleasant smell, an honest smell, and although it made her want to sneeze, she kissed him deeply and hung up his heavy coat as he went to wash his hands then handed him a steaming cup of coffee as he sat at the table. As they ate and drank, he asked her about her flight. Shyly she told him about her dream, about the memory of the first time he'd really finally claimed her as his. He smiled softly at her and kissed her fingers with his warm lips, his ever-watching eyes intent on her face. When she'd run out of things to say, he sat, sipping his coffee and peering at her over the edge of the cup, his eyes twinkling. She alternated staring in rapt attention at his face and letting her eyes roam nervously around the kitchen, making mental notes of all the things she'd have to buy to make the place livable. When he saw her mind wandering again, he put his mug down with a thump as he stood, and reached for her elbow, lifting and turning her body to swat her ass soundly and pulled her into the living room. He sat her on the couch and pushed her skirt up again, pulling her hips to the edge of the couch and spreading her legs wide apart as he knelt between them, his mouth pressing hungrily at her soft wet opening, licking all her wetness away and teasing her clit while she sat moaning, her eyes closed, in heaven. His hands held her arms firmly at her sides and she let herself squirm against his grip, loving the fact that she couldn't pull away from his questing tongue. His tongue and lips teased her until her hips were bucking and her whole body was shaking in his grasp, then he sat back on his knees and ordered her not to move. She whimpered as she sat there with her eyes closed, trembling. He slowly unbuttoned her wrap skirt and her blouse, pulling them open and exposing her body, naked now, except for her collar and the beaded anklet she wore. He pulled the blouse from her arms and then leaned back once more to just look at her. She lifted her head and watched him silently regard her, her face blushing red and her breasts rising and falling with her panting breath. The longer he left her that way and just looked, the redder her face got as she sat, aroused and embarrassed and not allowed to move. He smiled at her, making her look away shyly, but his hands were there in an instant, cupping her cheeks gently and tilting her face up toward his own. He kissed her then, softly and warmly on her mouth, letting her taste herself on his lips and the swoon of pleasure his kiss brought her made her forget his admonishment to sit still. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close, moaning softly in happiness as she deepened the kiss, but before her tongue had touched his, he pushed her roughly back onto the couch and all at once she remembered the simple order he'd given. He almost laughed at the shocked, stricken look on her face, but caught himself in time and just shook his head solemnly at her. He didn't need to tell her she'd screwed up something very simple and if she couldn't even sit still while he kissed her, how could she do anything more difficult? He sat beside her on the couch then, and patted his lap. She knew it wasn't an invitation to sit, and feeling humiliated and resigned, she lay across his legs and shuddered as he immediately began to spank her. It wasn't a very hard spank though, and within a minute or two she'd forgotten that it was supposed to be a punishment at all and was surreptitiously rocking her hips to rub herself against his thigh. When he felt this, he told her to turn over and he cuddled her there in his arms, kissing her mouth and neck and ears and pinching at her nipples till they hardened under his fingers. His hands stroked her belly softly as he kissed her, lulling her, arousing her with every gentle nibble to her ears before pulling his hand back to smack her pussy. Just once was more than enough to rouse her and remind her of her disobedience and she blushed and hid her face against his chest. He turned her face and looked down into eyes wet with sorrow and shining with lust, then tilted his head to listen. She knew what was expected, and although it was very hard to speak at all, she finally managed to whisper, "I'm sorry… Master." He hugged her close to him and kissed her again, this time with his hands caressing all the soft full curves of her hips and thighs and pausing to tease the warm pink triangle of her sex, his fingers gently stroking, then penetrating her as she lay in his arms, clinging to him and gasping again with longing. He'd been too long without her and wanted nothing more than to pounce her where she lay, but he'd had some relief in the truck and decided to reward his little pet for her patience. He lay her back on the couch, her head cradled by a pillow, her legs spread obscenely, one foot on the floor and the other over the back of the sofa. He held her wrists loosely but securely in his left hand and let his right explore her slick wet opening while he bent his head to taste her again. This time she vowed to keep still if that's what he wanted, but within a few minutes, the warm lapping of his tongue had her hips bouncing on the couch, squirming from side to side as he teased, trying to make him keep his tongue where she needed it to be. She wanted to grab his head, to jam his face tight against her and wrap her legs around his head to hold him there, but she dared not move from the way he'd positioned her. The more her hands jerked and shook in involuntarily spasms, the tighter he gripped her slender wrists and the lighter the flick of his tongue got. He would wait till she was still and breathless, awaiting his warm assault, then he'd suck hard at her clit, making her whole body shake till she was struggling again to free her hands, then his mouth would move to bite softly at her thigh and his exploring fingers would disappear till finally she started to whimper and beg for him to touch her again. He let her suffer this cycle a few times, each time teasing her for shorter and shorter periods of time and smiling as she implored him not to stop. Finally he released her wrists and stood to disrobe, his eyes never leaving her body. She was very careful to keep her hands just as he'd left them, although it was an awkward and uncomfortable position for her. She smiled shyly as her lover bared his body for her. She loved how he looked in the warm firelight, his body lean and smooth muscled, and his braid unraveling and letting soft wisps of hair frame his face. She smiled again as he took hold of her wrists and stretched her arms above her head as he lay down between her legs. His lips kissed the warm spot of her pulse, lipping and caressing her throat and she stretched her neck out happily to let him taste her. She felt his arm beneath her hips, lifting her to him and, though her position didn't allow her much freedom to move, she urged herself toward him and moaned a soft gasp of pleasure as she felt him push inside her. She was slick from before, when he'd taken her so suddenly in the truck, but now she was even wetter, her own dampness oozing out and enveloping him as he slid inside. As his hips began a slow, steady rhythm, she pushed back hard to grind herself against him, her head thrown back in pleasure. He kissed her neck and breasts while she lay writhing in his arms, looking at her flushed face and taut nipples and released his hold on her wrists to lift her head and devour her mouth with sweetly frantic kisses. In her effort to find release she dared to move her legs from where he'd put them, and was overwhelmed with relief when he didn't immediately withdraw as punishment. She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips and held him inside her, thrusting against him with all her might as her mouth drew in his kisses and his breath. She could feel the heat of his body as he broke into a fine sweat. She could see it shining on his shoulders as the fire in the hearth backlit him. She kissed his face and neck and licked her tongue out to taste him, gripping him tighter with her legs and rocking her hips more forcefully against his. She felt the waves of her orgasm washing over her slowly, filling her belly and head with the most delicious sensations as she cried out her pleasure. He'd reached up to grab her hands again and she struggled against him, in the grip of her climax, her thighs gripping his hips and her pussy squeezing tight around his cock and then just as suddenly her body went limp and she lay there gasping, tears in her eyes as she looked up at him and kissed his mouth over and over, whimpering her gratitude and love and begging her Master's forgiveness for moving her legs and for not asking permission before the shock of her orgasm hit her. He cuddled her shivering body close to his own and kissed her cheeks and her eyelids and her lips, murmuring softly that he loved her and that he forgave his sweet little doe, but just this once. Then he reluctantly pulled his penis out of her and told her to turn over. She knelt up on all fours obediently while he stroked her hips and ass, then she felt him pushing inside her again, filling her up and reaching around to tease her already hypersensitive clit. His fingers played in the wetness there while she shoved herself back against him, always wanting more of him. As he bit at her neck he demanded to know what she was and her pleasure-addled mind said what she hoped would please him, that she was His. His slave and His pet and His toy and whatever he told her to be, that's what she was and always would be. Her voice was soft and timid, but still filled him with love and lust and just as she whispered, "I love you, Master!" he felt his own orgasm flow through him and out of him and their bodies shook together with the same spasms of pleasure until he was done and they collapsed together, his weight on her back and his cock still pulsing trickles of semen into her as she tried not to squeeze him out. They fell asleep like that and lay there till the fire had dwindled down to smoking embers and a chill had crept into the air. She awoke with his leg wrapped over her hip and his arms wrapped tightly around her as if she would seek to escape the embrace of the one she adored. With difficulty she managed to loosen his grip and turn over, nuzzling and kissing his face to wake him gently. When he did wake, his pleasure at seeing her cuddled naked in his arms was obvious and it was a very long time before they finally fell into blissful sleep again, their bodies warmed by heat that burned hotter than any hearth. Going Home As she drives on through the night, Missy cannot stop the memories from flowing. The bright stars and warm air surround her. Each curve in the road is familiar to her, etched in her mind as if they are part of her. This is her home. The small winding roads of the country, the total darkness you can only find in a small town. The light of the moon and the stars is the only natural light, her headlights guiding the way for her. Missy drives on, lost in thought. Sweet music plays from the radio. She has chosen to listen to songs of her youth while making this journey home. Each song brings back a memory, some wonderfully happy and others that are not so fond. She recalls the freedom she enjoyed as a senior in high school and the reckless fun of her college years. Each landmark she passes seems to hold a memory. She slows to take in the scenery, the memories. She knows that she does not have to worry about her safety. The only cars she is likely to encounter this late at night are those of today’s carefree youth. Youngsters who, like she and her friends in their day, are out late spending time with friends. In this small town, the recreation is limited to parties in the fields or a small group of friends parked along the road. She recalls all the wild nights of drinking with her friends, staying out all night… just being free. As Missy drives further into the night, she lets the feelings flow over her. She relaxes in the comfortable feeling of being home in her environment, away from life’s busy hustle. She has been away for over five years now. She fled the small town when she graduated college, like so many do, in search of something more. She also left to get away from the memories. Memories of her love. Mark. As the music plays on, she is drawn into the past. The first time they kissed, the passion that they shared. They were high school sweethearts. She learned about love from Mark, about the expression of love. He taught her the joy of making love and of being in love. She never dreamed that they would not be together today. Like most first loves, however, they were taken in different directions. Somehow lost in the transition. She went off to college, and he joined the military. In some ways she never forgave him for that, for leaving her. He could have gone to college with her, they could have been together. But, he had dreamed of the military for years. Nothing could change that need inside of him. Even back then, she knew that what they shared could not take away his need to follow in his father’s path. He dreamed of making his father proud, to somehow feel a connection with his father who had passed away when Mark was a boy. As Missy pulled herself from the fog of her past, she took notice of where she was. The night had called her here, to the old cabin by the river. It had been abandoned for years. It was a special place for her and Mark. They used to escape here, to be alone. Not many people knew about this place. Mark brought her here so many years ago. The cabin was part of his family’s property, somehow lost in the generations. Missy parked the car close to the river, away from the house. She turned off the lights and the engine, just listening to the water flow and the cricket’s chirp. Her senses are overwhelmed with the past. The sounds, the smells, the warm air caressing her skin. The top is down on her convertible, and she leans back in her seat. She sits like this for a long time, just remembering. On warm nights they would hold one another on a blanket after swimming in the river. Missy could not fight the urge to submerge herself in that river once again. The memories are just too strong tonight. She quietly climbs out of the car, cautious not to disturb the nature that surrounds her. Mark always taught her how to be gentle with the environment. She slowly removes her clothes one piece at a time. She thinks of Mark’s fingers unbuttoning her shirt, as he had done so many times before. She slides her pants down, and steps out of them. The sandals she wears came off easily and the feeling of the earth under her feet comforts her. She reaches behind her to unclasp her bra, allowing her full breasts to bask in the moonlight. She sighs in pleasure at the feeling of freedom. Her nipples harden automatically in the night air. Her fingertips slide underneath the waist of her panties. The silky material slides over her hips, and her hands follow as she guides them down. She savors her touch as she removes her panties. She steps away from her clothing and slowly makes her way to the riverbank. The sound of the river becomes louder, more enticing as she gets closer. She uses her toes to test the water. It is cooler than she remembers. Tonight it doesn’t matter. She slowly wades in until most of her legs are submerged. The water laps at her hips, sending shivers through her. She can feel her nipples hardening into tight little buds in response to the cool water. The water flows between her thighs, lapping against her center. She stands like this for a while, letting the water caress her. She takes a cautious step further into the water. The sensation of the cold water is a shock to her groin. She can feel the water flowing against her, stimulating her. She slowly reaches down to open the folds of her pussy, allowing the current to stroke her. She closes her eyes and gives herself to the feeling. One hand comes up to wet her breast. She can feel her nipple growing even harder and longer. She pulls gently at it, stretching it. The pleasure evokes a small moan from her. She slowly pinches her nipple, twisting it. The shivers of pleasure run through her. The hand she uses to hold her pussy open to the water begins to moves slowly. Her clit is swollen and hard. She can feel her juices on her fingers, flowing now even in the water. She slowly slides a finger inside, pressing against her clit with her thumb. She starts to finger herself, sliding in and out. Her eyes are still closed as she recalls the times she and Mark played in this very place. Her fingers are still manipulating her nipple as she imagines the fingers moving inside her are not hers, but Mark’s. The sounds of the river hypnotize her. Missy feels as if she is the only person on Earth right now. She is jolted back to reality as she feels a warm, moist mouth surrounding her free nipple. Her eyes fly open, adjusting to the night. She is overcome with fear, and then sudden confusion. Mark is standing nude before her in the water. His mouth on her breast, like so many times before. He moves his mouth to hers, their kiss deep and passionate. She pushes away, intending to find out why he is here. He feels her withdrawal and places a finger on her lips. His eyes plead with hers, and she understands that no words should be spoken. She gives in to the memories and to the desire. Her body melts into his, as the water surrounds them. She kisses him for what seems like an eternity, her arms around his neck. The feeling so familiar and free, as tears begin to run down her cheeks. Missy's fingers trace along his jaw line as they kiss, reacquainting herself with him. She feels his soft moan at her touch. She kisses him deeper, if possible, needing him so much. Her mouth gently sucks at his tongue, bringing it in and out… mimicking the act of love that she wants from him. She breaks away from him, her mouth moving down his neck. Her kisses set him on fire, her mouth moving to just underneath his ear where she licks him over and over. His hands are all over her as his desire overwhelms him. He cups her breasts and runs his thumbs across her nipples roughly. They feel on fire under his touch. He takes them in his fingertips, pinching them one after the other. Her moans excite him even more. His lips lower to taste her, taking one nipple in at a time. He uses his tongue to lick her nipple roughly. He sucks at her nipple, as her hands pull his head closer. Harder and harder he sucks, knowing how she likes to be touched. His teeth surround the tiny bud, softly biting and pulling it into his mouth. Missy moves her hands between them, into the water. She is desperate to feel his cock in her hands. His cock is hard and long, pressing against her hip. Missy takes it into her hands, softly stroking and gripping him. Her fingertips move up and down his shaft, reaching lower to caress his balls. She lets her hand venture even further. She gently explores him under the water. The soft spot between his balls and anus calls for her. She presses there, knowing the pleasure he feels. Her pussy is hot and throbbing, as he suckles at her breast. Suddenly, Mark moves away from Missy and lifts her at her hips. He holds her there, her body buoyant in the water. Their lips meet again, so full of need and desire. As they kiss deeply, Missy feels the tip of Marks cock press against her pussy under the water. She reaches down and moves the head of his cock up and down her slit, over and over. Even through the water she can feel the heat of his precum on her pussy. She rubs her hard clit with his cock. Pressing harder against him, she grinds her clit against his manhood. She feels her orgasm building deep inside. Mark feels it too, in the intensity of her kiss. He guides her hips, and forces his cock deep inside her pussy. He can feel the muscles clenching and squeezing at him as she cums around him. His cock is suddenly bathed in her hot juices as she melts around him. Her body shakes, and he holds her tight against him. They are still as her orgasm subsides, her pussy still quivering around his hard cock. She folds her arms around his neck, and after a while slowly starts moving herself up and down on his hard cock. Her legs are wrapped around his waist, and his hands are on her hips. She moves against him, fucking him harder and faster. The water flows around them, lapping at their bodies. The water swirls around her clit and massages his balls as they move together. She moves faster on his cock, her pussy so hot and tight around him. Missy breathlessly whispers to Mark that she wants him to fuck her harder. Her words fill him with need. He grabs her hips roughly, his fingers digging into her flesh. He pulls her hard onto his cock and buries himself deep inside her. He uses her pussy for his own pleasure, pulling her back and forth on his cock. He grinds her groin into his own, enjoying the feeling of his cock buried so deep in her. Mark thrusts into her as he holds her hips steady. The cool water against his cock after each thrust in to her hot pussy drives him wild. She leans her head back, arching into him. He feels his cock deep inside her, brushing against her sweet spot with each stroke. Faster and harder he fucks her, as their moans carry through the night air. He feels his orgasm building, and moves into her deeper and harder. Just as he explodes inside of her, he feels her pussy melting around him. Her pussy grips his cock, milking him. His cum is hot and forceful as he pushes his cock all the way inside of her pussy. The cling to one another as the intensity passes. Her legs are still wrapped around him, his cock still buried deep inside of her. The water and night sounds surround them. They have both come home. Going Home I came home from collage for after just after spring training, my 2nd year. I had been the star of my high school team but had not yet made the starting line up at the University. I was down in the dumps, and wanted to see some of my old friends. Maybe a couple of old girl friends and try to build my confidence, lord knows I needed it. The next morning I drove over to Bobby's house, to see him, he and I ran together a bit in school although he was a year behind me. I knew how he looked up to me as a leader of the team so I hoped he would help me regain some of the swagger, I had before the guys at collage knocked it out of me. I knocked on the door, and Bobby's mother opened it, "Johnny! How nice to see you, how long have you been home?" she asked looking as sexy as always, I have had a thing for her for always. "I came in yesterday." I replied meekly "Is Bobby around. Mrs. Dollberry?" "No he has gone to the lake with James and Eddy, I don't know when he will be back. And call me Gail, Why don't you come in and have a tea with me, and tell me what you have been doing." She said opening the door wide. Now let me tell you a little about " Gail" , she is one hot mama. Around five foot six inches, about 120 lb. Dark hair, and eyes, she always wares tight slacks that shows off her nice round but, and she has a perfect pair of tits, 34b cup, and a smile that makes me almost cum every time I see her. I entered her home and we sat at the table and had some tea, and nuts while I expanded to her my feelings about not making the starting lineup. "But you're only a sophomore , you have two more years , you'll make it I just know you will." she reassured me placing her hand on top of mine. "Besides even if you don't you're education is what's most important and you will be getting one of the best in the country, right." "I know you're right, but I just can't get it in my head ." I said looking down at her hand, and the old feeling came rushing back, I need to get into her bathroom. "Ccould I use you're restroom?" I asked "Why, of course. You know you're always welcome in my house, just like when you and Bobby were running together, " I walked down the hall to the only bathroom in the house. I closed the door, dropped my pants and sat down on the toilet. I pulled the close hamper over in front of me and opened it. I pulled out a few pairs of men's jeans and then I found what I was look for, Gail's pants, with a pair of yellow panties around one leg. I pulled the underwear off of the pant leg and rolled them inside out. There in the crouch was a slight stain, coated dried pussy juices. I held the crouch to my nose, and inhaled he aroma, my dick seemed to get harder, and I took hold of it and started to stroke it as I licked through the gift form my friend's mom. I looked into the hamper and pulled out her bra, and held it to my nose as well her body smell was still in the cups, I imagined, her tits fitting into them and placed one of them over my balls. I smelled he pants, it also held her scent, as did her blouse she must have worn the day before. As I was deep into my masturbation with her panties cupped to my face the door opened. "I thought so!" she said, as she steeped into the room. "You are the one who has been steeling my underpants, Rita said she thought it was you. Didn't you sis." She said as she let her sister into the bathroom with us. "I knew it had to be him, every time he came over he had to use the bathroom." The older woman said as I sat there with my hand on my cock and Gail's panties covering my face. Rita was two years older than Gail and every body knew she was a real slut; she looked a lot like her sister, but a bit rougher, she was usually drunk, and dressed to show off her goods. Bobby had once told me that she had given him a blowjob one night after a party at his house. Rita reached out and took the panties from my face, "Well, Johnny boy, what do you have to say for yourself?" "I I a, I'm sorry?" "Well, don't worry about it, sweetie, just don't be taking them, with out my knowledge, after all I need them sometimes." Gail said as she walked out of the room. "Wait a second, don't leave this poor boy here to suck on you're panties, and jerk off!" Rita exclaimed "Lets let him get a taste of the real thing." She said as she began to unbutton her blouse. "What about it Johnny, you like Gail's under pants how would you like to get you face into her hot spot?" "I -a I would love it." I said as my dick grew and other two inches just thinking about having these two hot mothers "Well Gail, I know that no good man of yours has not been giving you what you need lately but I bet you this young hot stud can satisfy both of us." Rita! You know we can't be fooling around with a kid, what have I told you about that?" Gail said rushing back into the bathroom as Rita dropped her pants to the floor. "They'll lock us up!" "How old are you John boy?" Rita asked "Nineteen." I said stunned at he well kelp body, her breast stood up like a teenager's the nipples stood out from the dark brown crest of her milking white mounds. Her stomach was flat with a small mound of fat just above her brown pubic hair that formed a v shaped shield that extended between her legs. "See there he's legal.' She said as she stepped forward and took my head in her hands and pulled my face between her spread thighs. Without thinking and by pure instinct, I stuck my tongue out and licked between you pussy lips. I then took her clit into my mouth and sucked on it as though it were a lollypop. "Oh god he is good!" She moaned as she pulled my face deeper into her cunt. "Ok, ok, but not here, not in the bathroom." Gail said pulling her away form me. "In my bedroom, we'll be more comfortable in there." And then we were walking down the hall into her bedroom, Rita leading me by my dick. Inside the bedroom, Gail was already nude, and her body was every thing I had imagined. It was almost a duplicate of Rita's but darker, as if she had sunbathing in the nude. "Ok who's first?" she asked as she climbed up on the bed. "You silly thing, I thank he can take care of both of us." Rita said as she pushed me on the bed and rolled me onto my back, with my dick sticking it's full nine inches up towards the ceiling she straddled my legs and took my manhood in her hands. And lowered her mouth to the head, sucking it inside it felt warm and wet, causing it to grow even harder. She lowered her lips down its length until all of it was in. She pulled back and sucked on the head, then down once again, then back to the top, before she began to bob her head up and down the lips clamped around it. Over and over she worked up and down until just before I was about to shoot a load of white hot cum into her mouth then she stopped and held her fingers around the base as she removed her mouth. "Oh no sonny, you can't unload just yet, I've got to have you in my cunt before this session is over with today!" she said as she pulled herself to her knees and moved up positioning my cock between her legs. She worked the head back and forth along the slit teasing her clit before holding it at the opening of her cunt. Slowly she lowered herself down my shaft until it was buried deep inside her. "Well, sis what are you waiting on!" she breathed with her hands on my stomach pushing her hips up and down on my rod. "Let the boy have what he's been jerking off to for all these years." And with that Gail threw her leg over my head and lowered her hips down towards my face. I looked up and watch the pussy I had dreamed about from the first day I come over to play with her son coming closer and closer to my lips. I placed my hands on her hips and pulled them to me, sticking my tongue deep inside tasting the nectar that before now had only been second hand dried on her panties. Rita started to ride up and down on my dick as Gail worked her clit back and forth on my chin and lips. My nose was rubbing from her puckered ass hole to the entrance of her cunt. I breathed in her wonderful scent as I licked for all I was worth. This was heaven I had totally forgotten my trouble on the football field and was gripping her globes of butt flesh as I drank the juices that flowed from her. "Ooooh ya, Sis he is goooooood!" she moaned hugging her sister as they both worked up and down, back and forth on their new fuck toy. "Ya and his dick seems to grow inside of me he is going to be one great fuck before we are through with him' Rita said as she lowered her head to Gail's tits and sucked the nipple into her mouth. Gail took her head in her hand and held it to her tit. "He eats pussy almost as good as you!" she said, "Ooooooooooh yes eat me Johnny, suck my cunt, while you fuck Rita!" she said working her hips faster. The whole bed rocked as both women fuck me while hugging, kissing and sucking each others tits, they fingered their pussy and sucked on their fingers while they rode me. "Ooooooooo God yes I'mmmm cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuumingggggggggg!"Rita Yelled as she drove down on me pushing my cock deeper into her. "Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeetooooooooo!" cried Gail pressing her cunt down on my face and gushing cum down into my mouth. I raised my hips to meet Rita's and pumped my load deep inside her. The two slumped together over me, hugging and kissing each other, "That was great." Gail said as she raised herself up off of my face. "Hold on!" Rita said as she climbed up off of my now soft cock, and up over my mouth "Let's see how he likes his own jazz." She said lowering her cunt to my mouth. I opened wide and a mixture of my own cum and her love juices ran down inside. I tasted the salty sweet-better mixture and swallowed it down . "good you learn fast, I am look forward to teaching you much more." she said as she eased off and lay down beside of me with her sister on the other side. With my arms around these two beautiful women, they each kissed my nick and face while nibbling aon my ears and taking turns play with my limp cock. When it was hard again I rolled over on top of Gail I positioned my cock at the entrance of her and pushed it deep into her hot cunt and while she raised her hips I pushed forward slowly until I was buried al the way in her. I lay there with my mouth covering Gail's warm lips sucking her tongue into my mouth while Rita rubbed her fingertip on my ass hole. I begun to move my self in and out of my friends mother when I felt Rita position herself behind me spreading my but cheeks apart she lowered her mouth to my dark hole and licked the puckers. Then she pushed the tip of her tongue deep inside causing me to drive my manhood deeper into the woman beneath us. "Iiiiiiieeeeeeeeee! " I screamed as I picked up the pace "That's it big boy fuck her hard!" Rita shouted as I felt her finger enter my ass hole and keep time with my fucking. Looking down into Gail's face I could see her eyes closed and she was biting on her lower lip. Up and down in and out I pounded away at her lost in my own lust I didn't care that this was my friends mom , only that I was now doing what I had dreamed for all these years. Rita continued to fuck my asshole with her finger in time with my pounding of Gail's cunt, while she pinched and pulled at her sister's nipples. "You love it don't you Sis?" she asked but Gail only nodded her head yes, as she matched my drives with her own. Then at the same time we both locked together, she wrapped her arms and legs around as I pulled her to me with a bear hug and jerked my hips as my cock spit it load deep inside of her. "Aaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuukkkkkkkkkkk!" I cried "Oooooooooo!" She moaned "Oh yes, that was soo sweet you both came at the same time." Rita said kissing us both. When I had dumped my entire load into her sister Rita pushed me off of her and crawled between her legs, and began to suck out my spunk, gathering it into her mouth. Then she did something I had never thought of she moved up to above Gail's head and let the stuff drained out of her mouth into her sister's. Then she returned and did it again and again, until Gail was clean. Then both woman took turns cleaning my cock with their mouths. That afternoon I fucked Rita and Gail each once again, they sucked me off again and I watched the do a 69 while I got dressed to leave. Gail and Rita told me call the next time I came home and we would get together again. I went home and jerked off that night, and the rest of the weekend, on Sunday packed my bags and went back to school. The next month I started to work out harder every day, sometimes eight hours in the gem. I built myself up quite a good bit I went from 200lb to 250 in just a little while, and when we started three-a-days in late summer the coaches asked me if I would consider moving from running back to linebacker, and seeing that I had played that position in High School, I said yes and was moved to the starting lineup. About two weeks before out first game I received a package in the mail, it was marked private and it was from Gail. I went back to my room and opened it, inside I found a picture of Gail looking up between Rita's legs with her clit in her mouth and a big grin on her face. There was a letter inside and two pair of well-used panties. During my time at collage I went home several time and most of the time I went over to visit with Gail and Rita, but I never forgot the first time and the way the mother of my best friend and her sister helped me gain the confidence t make the starting line up on one of the best collage football teams in the nation. Going Home Edited by "Crazysoundguy' * As soon as he had pulled off the Interstate he had checked his map; he had laughed. When he was a kid it had been almost one hundred miles from the turnpike---a toll road---to the obscure little town with the funny name; it was tucked away in a small valley in an unremarkable sub-branch of the eastern mountain range which had once baffled the early settlers. The Interstate had finally gone through; one of the last sections completed in the country. It was still over fifty miles from four lane limited access highway; it would be exclusively two lane except for the occasional mountain passing lane along the steeper parts of the route. It was late spring. This far North and this far up it was still cool; frost in June was an all too common occurrence as he recalled. Nothing really looked remotely familiar; it had been twenty years almost to the day. He considered the myriad reasons he had never returned to the tiny village in which he had attended both junior and senior high school. Life had gotten in the way. First there was college in another corner of the country followed by an unexpected stint in the Army and two overseas deployments to a combat zone. Then there was the corporate adventure which still occupied much of his life. His parents left the area soon after he graduated; both had since passed on. His few close friends from high school had moved on as part of the largest exodus of a graduating class in the town's history. After many years of business closings, industry was slowly coming to the area. A surprising number of people were drifting back. Quality of life was very good; people tended to die well into their eighties and beyond from natural causes. Crime was almost nonexistent. There was a sense of community; people were neighborly. Charity began at home. Values...work ethic...honesty...friendship. The only real downside was freezing cold, snowy and absurdly long winters. Had it not been from the advent of the Internet and email he might never have reconnected. He had found the small town newspaper in an online edition. Someone had put together a high school email list by graduating class. He had begun to exchange regular emails with several former classmates. He'd missed every other class reunion; there was always something that got in the way. Even attendance at this one came with a work related rationalization. He was sure he was destined to be simply a short term visitor to his old haunts. He reflected back to the conversation he and his boss had had a couple of weeks earlier. "Walt, you're at the top of the list for Senior Vice President and your own operation. The signs are clear that you can pick and chose where you want to go. Unless you get some burning urge to go to corporate and someone decides that you belong in one of the top three seats in the company, this could well be your final relocation. There are at least two prime locations coming open during the next three months. There is also one less than prime location that the old man has asked me to run by you---no harm and no foul if you say 'no damn way'! It's a brand new facility---state of the art and destined to be one of our most sophisticated plants anywhere. It's also in the middle of Podunk, 100 miles from nowhere and it gets damn cold up there. Virtually all of the work force will be hired locally to include front line and even middle management. Let me show you where it is on the map---if I can even find it." "A little to your left, Don and up---right there!" "How did you know?" "Well, everyone has heard it about it; labor surplus market, astonishingly well-skilled, motivated and educated potential work force, a climate that will actually save us millions in utility costs in view of our unique manufacturing requirements, good schools, low crime, no unions---and since what we will make there is almost exclusively small piece JIT, the lack of easy Interstate access is a moot point. Virtually everything ships next or second day by air and either FedEx or UPS is going to put in an air park right next to the plant. I also grew up within thirty miles of there." "Are you saying you might have some interest in it? If you do---don't tell the big guys. Make 'em sell you on it! They're more than prepared to put a substantial spiff in the comp package to get a top manager up there." "Don, I haven't been back there in twenty years. I have absolutely no attachments to that part of the country---nor do I have anything but pleasant memories from growing up in that neck of the woods. My sense is that I've grown too accustomed to my urbane existence and would find it stifling. On the other had, I've been trying to decide whether to go to my twentieth high school reunion; it would be the first one I've ever attended. It's only a couple of weeks away. I think I might just go up and see what's changed and what's remained the same over the last twenty years." "Well it's a hike from here, what, close to fifteen hundred miles? Look you and I are friends and as much as I'm trying to tell you that you can pick and choose, I would look like a hero if you decided to take it. Don't take any vacation days; if you are serious about checking out the area then in my mind it's a legitimate business trip. You weren't planning to drive, were you?" "Not a chance and that's a long trip for me to take my plane; it's got to be five hours over some desolate terrain. I'll fly commercial into the closest airport and drive the last fifty miles or so in a rental. Even at that you can't fly direct; I'll have to change planes twice." As Walt recalled that fateful conversation with his boss it occurred to him that he had not addressed the other reason he had never returned to the bucolic locale with the confusing array of Native American town names. He thought briefly about other names; the amusing assortment of surnames of the kids he grew up with. While protestant Irish were the predominant denizens there were also many with last names that were virtually unpronounceable; the mountain region had also been a welcome haven for a previous generation of assorted Eastern European immigrants of Polish, Czech, Hungarian, Latvian and Estonian origin. The one name he had in mind was distinctly Irish: Mary Katherine Sullivan. Never a Mary, always a Katherine or more commonly just Kathy or Kath. He had first seen her in seventh grade sitting to his right and across the aisle in Mrs. Sanders' English class. She had blue eyes, blond hair and braces; he had fallen in love with her that first day of junior high. She hardly knew he existed until they became friends much later in high school. They might not even have become friends had she not been struggling in Algebra. Having gotten to know him during their junior play she begged him to tutor her. They had become work-out and running buddies; they had done a science project together. Until the week of high school graduation while playing spin the bottle at a friend's graduation party they had never even kissed. They were as different as two classmates could have possibly been. Walt, known as Walter in those days was a late bloomer but also a year younger than almost everyone in his class; he had skipped a grade way back in elementary school. He and Kath were the same age in years although technically she was a few months older. He was smaller than most of his classmates; he had a long bout with facial blemishes. His parents were of modest means so he seldom wore the latest fashions. He was far from the pinnacle of the high school social epicenter. He was decidedly geeky until his junior year. He'd had a growth spurt that summer. His complexion had improved. He'd gone out for several sports in spite of a lack of real athletic prowess and gained respect from the resident jocks for his hard work and fearlessness. The most athletic kid in his class had befriended him and had lent him a set of weights and a book on weight lifting to use over the summer. In return Walt had helped his new friend with his studies. Twenty years later Walt and that former jock, now an accountant with a graduate degree were still very good friends; they had stayed in touch. Andy had returned to the area a few years earlier and he and Walt exchanged emails often. In his junior year Walt became a more interesting classmate. He tried out for the junior play and won the leading role; it did wonders for his confidence. He became less socially awkward. One of the starters and stars of the football team had asked the coach to let Walt play in his place on enough plays each quarter to be awarded his varsity letter. His father had acquired a new job and their financial position had improved. There was a little more at the end of the month for Walter. Girls began to view him differently; he dated a number of the 'A' list sophomores but never really went steady. As the summer prior to his senior year approached, Walt and Katherine spent more and more time together. They were in extracurricular activities together. That Spring, he helped her prepare to retake the SATs; she had not done that well the first time as a junior. They ran together and lifted together. First semester of their senior year he got her through Algebra II with a B. They won a blue ribbon for their joint science project. Walt had even dated her younger sister several times but that never really went anywhere. He knew everything there was to know about her and she knew him as well as any one in the world. He had even saved her life and gotten closer to that special place at the top of her long tanned legs than he had ever expected to as he sucked the snake venom from the cruel double puncture made even more grotesque by the two short incisions he had made over the fang marks. The pit viper had struck several inches above her knee on her inner thigh. They had been hiking together as they had done every week for most of the summer. Applying a bandage and a loose tourniquet he had carried her over a mile back to her car and raced her to the hospital forty-five minutes away. The doctor commended him for his quick and appropriate first aid indicating that she would have surely died without his efforts. She had hugged him when she was released from the hospital. Unfortunately for young Walter he and the young woman who unknowingly had owned his heart since the seventh grade were destined to be just friends, albeit very good ones. As Walter recalled Katherine had dated three boys during her high school stint. All three were captains of the football team, all three were at the center of the best social group and all three came from families who were reasonably prominent. One family owned a meat packing operation, another owned several markets and the third was the son of the local bank president. Katherine was the most beautiful girl in the class; she was the head cheerleader. Her parents had "plans" for their oldest daughter and those plans included economic security; Walter didn't appear to measure up in that regard. From Walter's perspective he just felt particularly privileged to be her special, best male friend. He always knew he wasn't in her league as a potential boyfriend or dating companion. He was not willing to risk the friendship and closeness he had with her by pressing the issue. The two had shared that one, spin-the-bottle kiss at that graduation party and several of the other kids had joked that it must be like, "kissing your sister" for both of them and they had both laughed along with the joke. In fact it was that kiss and the absolute conviction that he and Katherine would never be more than friends that made him leave for college immediately following graduation. It was that kiss that probably doomed his short and ill fated marriage to a young woman who physically resembled Katherine back during his military years. Katherine too went off to college at the end of the summer. A few years later he had heard that she had married one of the former quarterbacks and returned to the area to live. She married Dennis; he was certainly the cream of the crop of the three football stars she had dated. His family had a successful small chain of stores. He was handsome, talented and beloved. He was one of those kids that you know just has the "right stuff" the first time you meet him in the seventh grade. To make it even more irritating everyone liked him and he was genuinely one of the nicest and most caring kids Walter could ever remember having known. Even when Walter had been in his prolonged geek stage, Dennis treated him as a friend and deserved no small amount of credit for helping Walter evolve socially. Dennis came back from college and became a school teacher, eschewing the family business. He became a great school teacher, one of the true giants of the classroom; he appeared to love teaching and to have been born to teach. He and Katherine were married shortly after completing college in what must have been the social event of the decade in that little corner of small town America. They had their first child, a boy, less than a year later. The first blessed event was quickly followed by a second child, a girl, a couple of years after. Twelve years after graduating from high school, married to the most beautiful girl for miles around, blessed with two gorgeous, healthy children ages four and six, seemingly doing a job he loved and preparing to celebrate his thirtieth birthday with a gala event planned, he left in his car ostensibly to pick up something for the party. He drove across the river to a truck pull off on the outskirts of town and blew his brains out with a gun no one even knew he had. He left no note and had not shown any signs of depression. Katherine was devastated; there had been no problems in their marriage that she could discern. They both taught school, made decent livings, had no significant bills and their house had been a wedding present; there were no money issues. The entire community was shaken to its very core. It would be an horrific event occasionally discussed for decades and no one ever figured out why it had happened. Had it not been for close loving family---on both sides---and the amazing closeness of the community, Katherine might well have perished herself. She was very glad she had been blessed with the support structure which helped her survive. She had aged dramatically in the year following Dennis' death; she had let herself go. She had rediscovered her relative youth only in the last couple of years. Now almost eight years later she was seriously contemplating taking her fourteen year old boy and twelve year old girl and moving as far away from her home town of thirty-seven years as was humanly possible. She was tired of being "the widow" and doubted that she would ever be anything else in this shrinking town of fewer than six hundred people. She had barely dated in eight years; it was as if the beloved memory of her husband Dennis made her, "off limits". She wanted for few material things; Dennis's family had been very generous. They had always loved her and treated her like their own daughter. Dennis had had a respectable insurance policy. She had continued to teach. Having grown closer to her mother than her own mother she had broached the subject only a few weeks earlier with her. To her surprise, Dennis' mother had agreed with her completely. "Baby, we'll miss you terribly but you deserve a life and if there is anything we can do to help just say the word." The school year was over; after the reunion she would pack her bags and move. She had already tentatively accepted a teaching position thousands of miles away. Walt was a couple of days early as far as the reunion was concerned. He took a brief side trip to check out the plant location. It would be ready to open in a few months. After getting the obligatory site tour from the construction manager he headed down another two lane road. The plant location was thirty miles from his old high school but only about fifteen miles from the small farm he had grown up on. His parents had initially leased and finally sold the land to a more prosperous neighbor. A house fire had destroyed the main house soon after he had gone off to college. His folks had left the area following the fire. As he turned off the hard road and on to a county gravel road in search of the township dirt road which lead to his former home he pulled his rental to the side to allow a late model John Deere of some size to pass. Just as the two vehicles were abreast, recognition hit and Walt rolled down the window. "Al! Al Bennett!" He shouted. The driver of the tractor stopped, turned and broke out in a grin. "Walter! Why you are a sight for sore eyes." The man of roughly Walter's age in faded overalls said as he climbed down from his high perch and strode toward him. "The two men embraced. "You finally decided to come back for a reunion---about damn time!" "I wondered if you'd mind if I took a look at the old farm." "Hell no! I'll even go up there with you. Turn around and follow me back up the road a mile and we'll park your car and grab the jeep and run over there together." The two men reunited and drove the few minutes to the place Walter had once called home, bringing each other up to date as they rode together. "We never rebuilt the house, just filled it in; the barn is always full of hay and we moved a couple of the out buildings. That creek flat land still produces the best corn crop in the county. We use the lower hill side for hay and pasture but the upper hill side is just too steep. My brother damned near rolled over up their one afternoon trying to plant a crop and as pasture it's just awful; if the damn cows don't fall down and get hurt they get tired out playing mountain goat and their milk production falls off." "So what are you going to do with it, Al?" Walt asked admiring the view for miles from the upper hill side. "Are you thinking of moving back and building on it? It would be a great home site. It's just got zero agricultural potential." "Hell, Al, work up some figures; I don't know if I'm moving back here but I'm pretty sure I at least am going to be a more regular visitor. I was born in sight of here; I grew up here. I wouldn't mind having a place to come to every now and again." "Well, it's not worth much and we'll never cut the woods behind it; it's too good for deer hunting. There's roughly twenty acres---do you want it all?" "That depends on how hard a bargain you want to drive." "Do you know what your dad paid for the whole farm including the prime bottom land? Fifty dollars and acre back in the early fifties. In the middle sixties we bought it for two hundred an acre without a house on it---and all we ever wanted was that 100 acres of flat fertile land at the base of the hill. This hill side has no value from a farmer's perspective. Look. I'll check with county and see what they say but I'm sure as hell not going to try to profit off the kid I sat next to damned near every day for ten years on old Arnie's school bus. The county agent has priced out damned near every acre in the county; whatever they say it's worth---you got it. 'You got plans for supper? Sharon would love to see you." They got back to Al's farm house in short order. Sharon had put on a pound or two but was the same freckle faced sweet beauty she had been when Al had taken her out of circulation---in the fourth grade---in spite of having given birth four times. The subject of Dennis' suicide came up as it always did in these situations. The subject of Katherine came up; Walt had not remembered that Katherine and Sharon were cousins. "She's back on her feet, Walter, I know she'd love to see you. You guys were kind of strange platonic friends as I recall. Hell, she spent more time with you in her senior year than she did with... Looking back I always wondered why you and she didn't..." Going Home "I wasn't in her league, Sharon---remember? Being her best male 'non-boy friend' felt pretty special back then. We were pretty close...but not that way..." It was after dinner and Al had taken the children down to the store to get ice cream. It slipped out before he knew it. "Sharon, look, if truth be told I fell in love with her---braces and all when we were in seventh grade. She didn't know I was alive until that junior play and then she needed help on her SATs and with Algebra and then we started doing things together and here I was, geeky Walter hanging out with the home coming queen and the head cheer leader and there wasn't a chance in hell I was going to screw it up by making a move on her and..." "She speaks of you often; as I recall you saved her life. If you'd stuck around for a while you two well might have ended up together---in spite of her parents. She missed you that summer when you left so quickly...missed you a lot. Small town America is so predictable; the home coming queen and king end up getting married---it's ordained. Look, Dennis and Katherine were happy together. No one knows to this day what demons were inside him. I was never sure that they were head over heels in love with each other but they were two sweet people with genuine affection who never caused the other any pain...well at least not until the day Dennis..." "I married a girl that looks a lot like her; that was years ago. It didn't work out." "Look, Walter, I love you like a brother and you and Al were best friends all the way back to elementary school. Katherine has two children as you know. You sure as hell aren't geeky Walter anymore and I have a sense that you've done just fine in life and aren't remotely hurting for female companionship. I can't imagine you moving back to this dying town and hooking up with a thirty seven year old widow with two teen aged or nearly so children. Plus, I'm not even sure she's staying. I think she's tired of being the widow. She's still a very beautiful woman and in this locale it's as if it would be disrespectful to Dennis's memory to ask her out on a real date. She has needs like any other woman. Go see her; don't call, hell she always home. Just go knock on the door and say hi. She lives not fifteen minutes from here; I'll draw you a map. Forget the damn ice cream. Hell, I knew you were in love with her way back when---and I also know she had a very deep and genuine affection for you...probably could have fallen in love with you if you'd been the least bit persistent." *** "Thanks for taking the kids with your family to the lake sis; they always have a ball there. I know you guys are leaving before sun up so it's better that they stay here tonight." "Kath, why don't you come? Who knows you might meet..." "Sure that'll happen just like it's happened so many times before. I need to get some things organized; I need to figure out what I'm taking with me and what I'm not. I'm not even sure I'll stay for the reunion. It's just more old memories." "Eddie told me that Walter's coming." "Walter...he's probably happily married, missing his hair and thirty pounds over weight." "Oh stop it! He was your best friend." "And my best friend scampered away from this little town without even a decent goodbye. He was a good friend...a really nice guy...but we were never remotely..." "Look, sis, I went out with him a few times, remember? Thinking back he was probably the nicest boy I ever went out with and a hell of a lot of fun. I was interested in Walter...but he wasn't really interested in me. He was in love with you." "He had a funny way of showing it. The only time we ever kissed was at that party....it was a very nice kiss...it took my breath away...it stirred up serious feelings. Then he left barely two weeks later. Walter and I could never have been..." "Because neither of you were ready to let it happen! You each had your own little vision of who the other was. To Walter you were royalty and out of his league romantically. To you, Walter---and I blame mom and dad for some of it---was a friend good enough to help you improve your SAT scores by four hundred points or get a B in algebra---or save your friggin' life for God's sake---but he wasn't certified and approved dating---or marriage material. It's just a shame you two never had the chance to find out." "Right. Well maybe if I stay we can dance together for old time's sake. I gotta' go." Walter had seen Katherine return to her darkened home; he had sat in the car across the street for several minutes. The question of what he was going to say was rooted in him deciding at this juncture in his life who he really was. Walter had long since lost his shyness around pretty women. He wasn't the same Walter Katherine had once been best friends with. He had blossomed in college and become a fledging leader. He'd been a military officer and had been decorated for valor on numerous occasions and led others under life and death circumstances---and done so with honor. He was now a senior middle manager about to take the step to senior management having earned that right by being a guy who was unafraid, took risks and took charge. Yet for all of his accomplishments, this one woman had owned him heart and soul since the seventh grade---and still didn't know it. As he walked toward her door he was bolstered by the thought that when in doubt, tell it like it is. It had worked in college, on the battlefield and in corporate America. Would it work in affairs of the heart? When she snatched open the door and stood two feet in front of him every bit as beautiful and desirable as she had been twenty years earlier, he almost lost his nerve. "Walter?" A look of surprise, pleased, not sure? "Katherine. Kathy. Kath. Bear with me here. I need to get something off my chest. Hi. I'm Walter although most folks call me Walt now days. Back in seventh grade you, your braces, your soft blond hair, powder blue eyes and skinny little butt sat across the aisle from me half way back in Mrs. Sander's English class. I couldn't stop looking at you; I almost got in trouble for it. You didn't know I was alive. I used to find ways to sit near you during lunch...stand near you outside before class. You finally noticed me during the junior play. We did things together...studied...science projects...running...weight lifting...hiking. We became pretty good friends; we spent a lot of time together during our senior year. We only shared one kiss and it was spin the bottle. Two weeks later I left. That kiss had something to do with it. I was just Walter; you were...well, everything! I couldn't stay...because I knew you and I didn't have a prayer in hell of every being more than friends. I was so hopelessly, head over heels, desperately in love with you. Hell I was in love with you before I even really knew you! And then we became friends...and you were even more amazing than the vision I had of you. I didn't say goodbye. I owe you an apology for that. I'm rambling on here. The point is, I'm still hopelessly in love with you. I know you have had some real heartache over the years. I wish I could take that pain away. But right now you need to either look me in the eye and say: "no, Walter, I couldn't possibly love or be in love with you in a million years." Or, if I haven't read things completely wrong you might consider..." "You always talked too much when you were nervous, Walter...Walt. Come inside before the neighbors begin to wonder what is going on. You were the best friend I ever knew. Yes, there were times that I conveniently forgot that you were also a boy...a special boy. That kiss changed everything. I wanted to tell you that but you avoided me and then you left and all things being considered now that I know what was going on in your head and heart---I get it. I am now a thirty seven year old 'widow woman' with two children aged twelve and fourteen who is pretty sure she doesn't want to live here any more. And here we are at almost 9:00 o'clock at night and you show up at my door after twenty years without a word and..." And then he kissed her, much as he had twenty years ago; and she didn't try to stop him. Ultimately her arms crept around him as his encircled her strong body. She started to speak. He spoke first. "Shush...too much talk on both our parts. Just kiss me...hold me...love me as I have always loved you." "Okay." Katherine whispered, moving her hands inside his shirt...releasing buttons...pushing the shirt off his body as he opened her blouse and released her small breasts. In short order both were naked; Katherine led him to her bedroom and made love with a man for the first time since her husband had left her eight years earlier. She had almost forgotten how special it felt to be in the arms of a man who loved her. When he entered her still strong lithe body after a more than adequate interval of exploration and mutual pleasuring, she cried out his name...the name of her special friend two decades before...the name of this man who was in love with her and had been for so long. This was the man whose heart she had unknowingly captured back in junior high; he was also the man she had missed and thought about wistfully for twenty years. She had always loved him as a friend....her best friend. They were making love as a man and a woman for the first time ever. Could she love him that way...romantically...as a woman loves a man? How could she ever have missed it? The answer was so obvious; so she told him. "Damn you! I love you, I love you, I love you...I missed you so much! How stupid and foolish we were...so young...why couldn't we see it back then...you loved me but didn't think I could love you?" As the first of many screaming orgasms overcame her, Katherine decided that there would be lots of time for talk later. Talk came with coffee some time after the sun had risen. "Thank you." She whispered cuddling in Walter's strong arms. "I don't want to get in our first fight about it but no---thank you. I dreamed about you and I sleeping together from the very moment I figured out what men and women actually did in bed. I had no idea..." "I haven't, as they say, been with a man in eight years so I can't promise quite that level of arousal next time. On the other hand you seem to have translated, what twenty-five years of wanting me into a pretty amazing night?" "Where are your children?" He asked. She told him. "What are your plans?" He then inquired. "Sharon told me that she thought you were getting ready to leave." "I am...was...maybe still am. Regardless of where you and I are going I'm not sure this town would accept..." "This town loves you as they loved Dennis. They want to see you happy. If you want to leave---I'll leave with you. If you want to stay I'll stay with you." He told her. "There aren't really many jobs here; sure there's a new factory coming on line but..." "Kath, other than the specter of being the beloved hometown football hero's widow---and I mean that with no disrespect---Dennis was always kind to me; he helped me get over a lot of my awkwardness. I considered him a friend back in school. As jobs go I have some time, probably a couple of months to make some decisions. Once I make them, I'm pretty much stuck with them unless I want to go look for a new company to work for. Even if that be the case, I will do what you need me to do. Look, as much as I'd love to spend the rest of the day in bed with you---let's get moving! I'm hungry and your fridge is barren. I need breakfast and I have something to show you." Of course getting up and getting dressed means taking a shower; they did so together. This time the sex was far less about love and romance and more about, well, fun...fucking fun. "Does everyone still go to the Castaways for breakfast?" "Things haven't changed that much. Are you sure? Everyone will see us and..." "And I'm in love with you and you told me at least in the throws of passion that you loved me and I fully intend to change your status from widow to newlywed at the first opportunity?" "You're moving pretty fast." "Oh, sure! It's only taken me twenty-five years to tell you I love you and ask you to marry me?" "Are you asking me to marry you?" "I am, though not as formally as I had always planned. I think your children might have a right to some input." "They'll be back late on Sunday." By the time Walter and Katherine finished breakfast at the local breakfast joint they had probably seen half the people they had gone to school with. No one could really miss the way the two looked at each other...touched each other. She realized that she never for a minute should have doubted the true character of this special town which had been her home since birth. There were whispers here and there accompanied by a whole lot of big grins and even a few tears. It was when the waitress, who was also the chief cook and owner and the mother of the current school principal whispered in her ear that she had doubts that she really wanted to leave. "I'm so happy for you Kath! Walter's certainly turned into a real fine looking man. God bless you. You deserve happiness again more than anyone in the world." Others shared similar sentiments. How could she have underestimated these people? Walter drove Katherine to his hill side. "What do you think? It's only fifteen minutes out of town and fifteen minutes in the other direction to the new plant." "You're going to apply for work at the new plant?" "Not exactly. If you decide we should stay, I'm going to run the new factory. That was sort of the excuse I gave myself for coming back---see if I wanted to actually live up here again---when in reality I came back to tell you I loved you. I don't have to take the job. I currently live about fifteen hundred miles from here but I'm about to be promoted and I'll have a great deal of say in where I move. If I stay with the company it will doubtless be my last move. I'm not much into corporate politics anyway so I have no plans of going to headquarters again. I'd like to build a house right about here. A house for you, me your children---and any more children we might decide to have." "What do you want to do, Walter?" "Be with you wherever but I guess I'd have to say I'd really like to come back here and stay." "Yeah, me too. I know I'd miss it. The kids don't really want to move. Everything and everyone they know is here." As they were preparing to return to town, Al and Sharon drove up; the small town grapevine never failed. "Well have you popped the question yet?" Al exclaimed as Sharon gave him a look. "Unofficially, I did. I didn't have a ring and we haven't talked to the kids but...yes." "Well hell, you will and she'll say yes and the kids will just be fine with it. Here's your wedding present. It's the deed to this twenty acres. It's hand written and needs to be registered with the county but if you want it it's yours." Walter had tears in his eyes. The two old friends shared a male moment as the two women whispered conspiratorially a few feet away. "Come on Al, let's leave these two to do a little, ah, new house planning. The kids are away for the rest of the day and you've got some chores to do back at the house." After the other couple left, Katherine led Walter back to the edge of the woods. A few yards inside there was a small clearing under the trees which obviously showed signs of human preparation. "Sharon guaranteed me there are no bugs or snakes here and also said they plan to use this spot every now and again after we build." Katherine had removed her clothes in a matter of seconds. Walter got the message and did the same. "Look me in the eyes Walter. Last night you made love to me, several times like no man---no man---ever has. You made me feel special again...loved...cherished...unique. I'm hoping you plan to do that every day for the rest of our lives. And this morning in the shower was pretty playful. But right now, naked out here in the woods...just fuck me. Show me how much I excite you...let me know you can't keep your hands off me...that every time you look at me...you want me." Some time later as the two new found lovers laid together in the after glow of their most recent exploration, Katherine spoke. "I need to tell you some things. If it bothers you we need never talk about it again. Walter, Dennis and I were happy. He was always just good old Dennis. He was an amazing teacher; teaching excited and energized him. Like everyone he got occasional bouts of moodiness but he'd always snap out of it quickly. He was always so damned consistent and steady. He lit up any room he entered. We never fought; he was a doting father. Nothing ever seemed to bother him. That day....I've racked my brain...I don't have a clue. He gave me a peck on the cheek as he always did. He was smiling and seemingly without a care in the world. A half an hour earlier he and his brother had been throwing a football in the backyard. 'I'll be back in a few minutes,' he said, waving goodbye as he drove off. Less than an hour later the police chief---who was and still is in fact the entire police department---knocked on my door. Kids liked to drag race on the bridge so he routinely patrolled there. He saw Dennis' car pulled off to the side and assumed he had car trouble. Walter, it just didn't make any sense but over the years I've come up with a hair brained theory." "I know this is hard babe...go on." "It's more like two theories. First, as long as anyone had known Dennis he was the guy who was always there for people. He'd listen to their problems and end up cheering them up or helping them find answers. I worry some times in retrospect that we never did the same thing for Dennis---we all assumed that he was just too happy and well adjusted to have issues of his own...but he must have. Secondly, and this is more a reflection on our life together. It reminds me a little of that movie when the guy discovers that his whole life is just a TV show. We were happy together...almost too happy. At times our existence felt just like a fairy tale. We never fought; Dennis never raised his voice. It was idyllic and looking back almost surreal. Our sex life was more than acceptable but even there I look back and wonder if it was real or if we were play acting. Dennis' was a very competent lover. Now having something real to compare it to I realize I never felt or saw the passion, intensity, depth---whatever---that I feel with you and from you." "Kath, I don't have a clue although part one of your theory makes nothing but sense. I certainly never said, 'Dennis, thanks for helping me feel like less of a dweeb---is there anything you'd like to get off your chest?' Maybe Dennis had hopes, dreams and aspirations inside his head and heart that we didn't comprehend. He spent his whole life making other people happy...living up to our expectations of who he was. Thirty can be a traumatic milestone for some. Maybe in his heart he didn't want to be the former hometown football hero and current teacher of the year. Maybe he had always wanted something else, something more, but rationalized that he couldn't because he would disappoint people. The pressure of living up to what others expected coupled with the specter of living a life---albeit a life everyone else coveted---that wasn't the life he dreamed of, ate away at him inside. Suicide is not a rational act; it's also a selfish act which is not the Dennis' we knew---or thought we knew. We---those who loved them---always tend to blame ourselves when a special person takes their own life. We're also desperate for closure—a rational explanation for what is not rational. I'm afraid that's the best I can do." "Do you want to have children...with me?" "If it's humanly possible, yes, without question. How are you on that issue?" Going Home "Yes, without question. I'm still young enough. It also may be a moot point. I haven't exactly been sexually active for the last eight years. We didn't use protection so considering the time of the month..." "Nothing would make me happier." "What happens now?" "We have a house to build and considering the short building season in this climate we need to get cracking. We have a wedding to plan. We still need to bring the children up to speed. We have a class reunion to go to. I have a job to go back to for a least another two or three months." Katherine and Walter decided to begin by stopping by to see a friend of her father's who was the most respected local home builder. They considered possible house designs; they drove back up to survey the site with the builder; he was pretty sure he could get the job done before winter. The deal was sealed with a hand shake. They drove the thirty miles to the court house and registered the deed. They also applied for a marriage license and took care of the other prenuptial requirements to include picking out rings together. Late in the afternoon they stopped by the small church in which Katherine had been baptized and confirmed to discuss their plans with the elderly and soon to retire pastor. Returning to Katherine's home they made love and then dressed for the opening reception of the reunion. The small town grape vine was as usual very efficient. As Walter and Katherine entered the reception hall hand in hand it was as if royalty had arrived. People cheered, whistled and even applauded. Every stop they had made that day had been telegraphed across the county. Possibly the only question that had not been discerned was, "Have you set the date?" For Walter it was almost like being transported back in time. After enduring an ample amount of chiding for staying away for so long he came to the stark realization that he had been sorely missed; these people were his friends; they cared for him and were glad to have him back in the fold. The rest of the weekend was a blur for the new couple but a deliriously joyous one. There parting late on Sunday was not easy as if each had some insane fear that they might again lose each other. Walter's departure was preceded by a meeting with Katherine's two children. The two adults felt almost silly at having been concerned about how the kids would respond. They were happy for their mother; both were of an age where they had a fledging understanding of how important love and the companionship that goes with it were. The icing on the cake was the announcement that they would not have to move away. Walter could well have stayed a few more days but he wanted to get back and take the steps to move his professional and personal life forward. On Wednesday he traveled to the corporate headquarters to discuss his career desires with the top three executives. "Walter, the plant is well ahead of schedule which is no small testament to the work ethic which seems to exist in that little corner of the world. Our HR staff had already begun to do initial screening; we will be the largest employer in the area." "Not really Fred; the largest employer in that part of the world is Mother Earth---the land. I'd like to be very 'hands-on' in the personnel process. If I don't know every person who is applying---I probably know their parents. If it's okay with you gentlemen, I'd like to make the transition as soon as humanly possible." "We're going to hire almost exclusively locally; bluntly not too many of our existing employees are interested in moving there. We'll give you all the tools you need in terms of incentives and spiffs but you've got a rough road ahead of your in terms of encouraging relocations." "I'll chat with Rhonda in HR before I leave; there are a surprising number of people with excellent educations and prime skills who have moved back to that area in recent years. One of the kids I went to school with---a graduate of a top business school with a graduate degree in accounting---is currently driving a school bus and doing little more than day labor to bring in a few extra bucks. He got tired of the big city grind and crime and left a promising career to...go home. Along with the high unemployment rate there is a lot of 'under-employment'. I'll know more after I spend some time up there but I'm hopeful that we will be able to fill our needs almost exclusively locally." "Where will you start?" "The former junior-senior high school principal---he ran that school for over forty years with an iron hand---knows everyone and everything there is to know about them. There's an old doctor...the local insurance agent....banker...police chief..." "Walter, it's your baby; as of today you are officially in charge. We trust you to do it right." Walter didn't personally dislike the VP of HR. He just didn't really appreciate Human Resources people. As he sat across from Rhonda in her office he had to endure more 'personnel-speak' than he would have liked. "Walter we have done initial testing and interviewing; the potential labor force is remarkably bright and well educated. I have some real concerns about diversity issues but..." Walter cut her off. "Rhonda, as long as I've known you diversity has always been about the color of ones skin. In fact there's lots of diversity in that locale. There are the children of first and second generation immigrants from virtually every war torn or oppressive regime in Europe. Additionally gender diversity is not even remotely an issue. Let me give you something to think about. First there is not an African-American presence in that area. There probably aren't six black families within fifty miles and I'd bet that not one of them is applying to work for us---because they already have successful careers and professional educations. Slavery never happened up there---it was fiercely rejected. It's also frightfully cold and inhospitable to those folks who 'arrived' from a distinctly warmer clime. Farmers and their children tend to farm their own land; their parents and grand parents in the 'old country' were quite likely to have been little more than slaves, indentured servants, 'serfs of the manor' or essentially share croppers---and they rejected that style of life when they arrived on our shores. They found it repugnant and had no intention of perpetuating it in their new homeland. The migrant worker mentality also offended them and the brutal climate offered little attraction to a south of the border population. Since the majority of our Asian population in this country is from southern Asia, once again the climate didn't attract them. Virtually every religion you could imagine exists up there. Yet in spite of the fact that an astoundingly diverse array of people---people who might well have been bitter enemies in the 'old country'---settled there, I can't recall a single incident of ethnic animus when I was growing up. From what I observed during my most recent visit that hasn't changed one iota." "Touché---I deserved that lecture. Here's the list of people who have passed the initial screening." "Let me see the list of ones that didn't." "Why?" "Just curious." Rhonda provided him the reject list. He circled a hand full of names. "Let's reevaluate these few names. At least two of these people as I recall had disabilities and might not have come across as 'sharp' enough but they were all about heart---and hard work. Look, Rhonda, I don't want to fight with you; by the way, have you been up there?" "No, I..." "You can learn a lot more about who these people are by spending some time with them, talking to their teachers, the local constables...I know that's not easy to do 'officially' due to all of the legal crap but I'd like to do my own detective work. People will talk to me...when they might not talk to you. Many of the people applying own marginal farms and have large families; we may want to consider job sharing opportunities, transportation issues, part time versus fulltime, flex-time---damn! Rhonda this is an opportunity to get creative and assemble a stellar, hard-working and intensely loyal work force. It's just the kind of challenge that should have you salivating." "It should...you're right; I'd be more comfortable if I even had a candidate to handle HR there---which I don't at the moment." "Look, Rhonda, while I was attending my high school reunion I ran into a lady I went to school with---we even dated once or twice---who used to be pretty high up in the HR world in the Fortune 100. She took a couple of years off to raise a family, write a book and move home. Her name is Carolyn Hulsted and she..." "The Caroline Hulsted?" "Pardon me?" "If it's the same person---I've read both of her books and she is one of the most respected HR people in the country!" "I sensed that she might be willing to get back in harness; she's currently working part time as an assistant guidance counselor at the school. If anyone has an inside track, she does. And she's but one example; there are many more with superb credentials in finance, engineering and manufacturing who made the trade---big bucks versus quality of life. I'm going back up there at the end of the week. If Carolyn is interested I'll put her in touch with you. You already know that the plant is ahead of schedule by several months; we need to get moving quickly." Before the week ended Walter had put his existing home on the market. He called his old school bus seat mate. "Al, when we were kids your dad bought an airplane, a Piper Comanche as I recall, does he still fly it?" "We traded up several times, buddy. 'Preferred the security of that second engine---and ultimately the increased speed of a turboprop. He still flies now and then as do I but he hired a full time pilot who is also part of his construction firm a number of years back." "Where the heck do you keep it?" "We moved that old horse barn of your dad's and converted it to a hanger." "So you still have a landing strip?" "The same one; it's still a grass strip but it's smooth and hard and surrounded by a field of wheat, oats or corn. We've got lights, a windsock, a Unicom receiver and even an ADF. It not remotely an IFR field but you can at least find it in the dark. What's on your mind?" "Your dad got me hooked on flying that first day he took me up in his brand new airplane. I started with a 150; now I've got a turboprop, one of the small Beech King Airs." "Well there's thirty-five hundred feet of grass and another five hundred feet of reasonably open terrain at either end so that should be no problem. There are no wires for two miles on either approach. When are you coming? I'll get one of the boys to go out and mow it close. I didn't show you when you were here but we got tired of driving all the way around on the road or fording the creek so dad built a one lane bridge to get to your dad's farm. It can't be a five minute ride over to your little hill side." "Al, I'm just doing a little preliminary flight planning right now. I had to laugh...we really did grow up in a place that you just, 'can't get to from here' didn't we? It's all of 1,500 miles by car and requires two airplane changes commercial but as the crow flies it's a scant 1,000 miles or four hours depending on the winds. I'm going to leave here as early as I can get away Friday. If I could beg a ride from you, I need to buy a car. The one I have is decidedly inappropriate for that part of the world so I'm going to sell it." "Not a problem buddy! 'Looking forward to seeing you." With a little bit of tailwind it turned into just under four hours. Walter made a low pass to check out the terrain and made his call in the blind even though he hadn't seen or heard another airplane for miles around. He had planned to surprise Katherine; that never works in rural small town America. She was there to meet him. If he'd ever had the slightest doubt he knew instantly that in this woman's arms he was finally home. "So, you didn't tell me about this little toy!" She said with a grin. "Probably one of the few surprises in my 'other' life, babe. I started flying for fun; it got serious back in the Army. I still fly for fun but my current---or former---job entailed visiting a number of manufacturing locations so this worked out pretty well and the company had no problem paying me the mileage which was almost always less than commercial flying." "In our frequent phone conversations you didn't really tell me how long you are visiting for." "I'm going to have to go back and forth a few times to tie up some personal and business things but for all practical purposes----I'm here to stay." "And have you arranged suitable lodging?" "I was sort of hoping that there just might be a fetching young colleen who'd be willing to rent me a room." "That sounds a little scandalous---but terribly sweet---we'll see what can be done. Do you want to see the house site?" "Are you serious? They've actually broken ground?" "Come on---hop in!" Five minutes later as Al had promised they arrived at the hill side. Someone, and Walter was pretty sure it had been Al or his family had laid a new layer of fresh gravel on the road----formerly little more than a two wheel dirt trail---leading to the home site. Walter had forgotten that Al's family was also in the gravel quarry business. The builders had not only broken ground they had poured the foundation and were in the early framing stages. "Wow! Any idea what the schedule looks like?" Walter asked. "The weather forecast looks good; if it holds they hope to get a roof on it early next week---and then the weather becomes less of an issue." As the couple drove back to town Walter brought Katherine up to speed on his plans for filling the employee ranks of the new plant. "I called the construction manager and she won't be able to give me access to office space for a few weeks so I need to find an office and..." "You could use a room at the school." "Is that legal?" "You have been in the city too long. For a whole lot of people that factory---and therefore you---are going to be a savior for this town. The principal---and you dated her as I recall----already suggested it. I'm glad that budding romance didn't work out. Look, the kids are in camp for the next two weeks---a regular summer event. How can I help?" Walter briefed her on the key people he had already decided that he wanted to approach first. "I suppose we should wait until Monday; I hate to disrupt people's weekends." "Walter you are just going to have to get back into the real world---this real world. It sounds to me as if you've already got your HR director, chief engineer and finance director in mind. Let's just go see them---unless you had something else on your mind." Katherine said with a mischievous grin. "Business before pleasure?" "Oh, Darn!" By dinner time Walter did in fact have his key direct reports onboard. The high school jock, now a CPA who had once lent him a set of weights one summer which changed his life. A girl he had dated a few times and one who had provided his most adventurous teenage back seat exploration would run HR. His chief engineer would be a fellow geek from the old days who had gone off to a top engineering school and returned a decade and a half later no longer remotely geeky with a stunning brunette and two beautiful children in tow. He even had a secretary; the school secretary who had taken that job at the age of nineteen---and never held another job for the next forty-six years had recently been forced to take mandatory retirement. She had not been remotely ready to retire and was thrilled at the chance to get back into harness. All of the kids always believed she really ran the school anyway and she knew every student who had attended by name and more. Perhaps the biggest surprise and greatest find was the man who would become his plant manager; Dennis' brother Donald. Unlike Dennis, Donald had left the area after high school and did not return after college. He had exceptional educational credentials and significant line management experience. He had even worked in a similar technology industry. He had only returned a couple of years earlier ostensibly to help run the family business as his father's health began to fail. He hated it; the good news was that his younger sister loved it and really wanted to run it. "Thank you Walter." "I should be thanking you! Who would have guessed it! You're more qualified to run the floor operations than virtually anyone I could have brought in from outside." "Well, thank you for the job but thank you for coming back; and thank you for putting a smile on my sister's face. Have you got time for a short ride before dinner?" The two men drove across the bridge and pulled off on the other side; both exited the car silently. Donald spoke first. "I never had the talent, personality and charisma that he had; I knew if I stayed here I would end up continuing to live in his shadow---yet I never resented him for one minute. He was the best brother a guy could have asked for. Dennis went to state college---came home almost every weekend. I went to school as far away from this burg as I possibly could---and seldom even came home for holidays. I lived in the big cities, discovered California and had a successful business career. My marriage fell apart; fortunately we had no children. I finally came back one Christmas a couple of years ago...and I never left again. I still hate the family business and not unlike Katherine was thinking seriously of leaving again since Kathleen is more than qualified to run things here. Now you've given me a chance to start over...here. Remember Lee Harrison? I never gave her a second look back in school. She came back about ten years ago...has her own small business. I was going to ask her to marry me but she'll never leave. As soon as I drop you off I'm going to tell her the news on both counts. I miss him Walter and I still don't get it. I lived the life outside this valley; it has its good and bad points. Dennis never really left here until he...he just never really had another life to compare it to. I'll always believe he was destined to be a star---and not just the star he was in this little world. In some twisted way he couldn't accept what he had---how good he had it---because he had nothing to compare it to...felt that he had horribly missed something...and it killed him. It's the only explanation I can come up with." The two men were silent for several minutes before getting back in the car for the short drive back into town. "Donald, yours is as good an answer as anyone can come up with; I've thought about it a lot over the years. He befriended me when most kids ignored me---or worse. He touched all of us in a good way...a special way. I miss him too." Katherine and Walter were married in the church of her baptism almost exactly four weeks later. There really was no need to send out formal invitations; everyone was invited. She was in fact pregnant but not showing; she and Walter had two children, one of each sex. The new house was completed well before the first chill hit the air in early September. The house was more than large enough for their anticipated family enlargement. They had not had the same taste in furniture so nothing really went together. In the end certain rooms were dominated by her furniture, others by his and they ended up buying new things together for the most used areas. The plant opened well ahead of schedule; in the end not a single employee was brought in from outside the area. Technically even Walter was a local. As demand increased the plant ended up adding a second shift providing more needed jobs and an economic boost to the local economy. Senior management could not have been happier and made it very clear that Walter had his job as long as he wanted it. Kids graduated from high school and left; many trickled back. Some took over family farms, others taught school, still others started small businesses or provided needed professional services and more than a few ended up working at the plant. Going Home Katherine's two children from her former marriage flourished in their new environment and both ended up graduating from top schools. Both ultimately returned after experiencing life outside the valley with new spouses in tow, never to leave again. Katherine and Walter occasionally made trips away from the area to see friends and family but if truth be told, could not wait to get home. Katherine continued to teach until mandatory retirement; Walter actually retired a couple of years before he would have had to do so staying on with the company in a consulting role part time. As the years passed he would periodically pull off on the other side of the long river bridge and talk to Dennis. He would thank him for having been a good friend; he would tell him how much everyone missed him still. He would tell him how much he loved the woman that they had both loved and married and how proud they both could be of Dennis' children. Walter would then drive the twenty minutes to his little piece of hillside and hug the still fetching colleen who had stolen his heart so many years ago. She would feel his tears on her shoulder and smile and hug him even tighter and tell him what a lucky little girl she was. They would banter about who was luckier and if the children weren't in sight he would sneak a hand down the back of her dress. She would protest even as she found his growing arousal with her hands and more often than not dinner would be delayed. Going Home ".....and be sure your seat backs and tray tables are in the upright and locked position. We will be landing in just a few minutes." Tom looked out the window at the ground below them. He began identifying familiar buildings and locations to himself. He had been gone for some seven years, four in college and then three earning a living, a living which gave him wonderful travel opportunities. When he first started traveling offshore for his employer, he thought of keeping a log of all the countries he visited, but he soon abandoned that activity, deciding that the joy was in the travel and the places he went, not in keeping records. Looking forward to the bulkhead that isolated the flight deck from the passenger compartment, he saw the flight attendant smile at him. The two of them had spent a while making small talk during the flight – that is when she wasn't occupied tending to her duties. Fortunately the first class cabin only had four rows of seats, so she did end up with a good deal of free time. Nancy – she had identified herself not a full minute into their conversation – pulled down the jump seat and buckled herself in for the landing. He noticed her glance about the cabin and then casually crossed her legs, reminding him of Sharon Stone in "Fatal Instinct." He realized her glance had been to ensure he was the only passenger focused on her. The leg cross was now followed by the smile and a wink. He smiled back at her, his only option of feedback. The wheels touched down and Nancy reached for the intercom on the wall behind her, and then proceeded to make the obligatory announcement about staying buckled in until the plane was at the gate and the Captain turned off the seat belt sign. She then rose and with the other attendants, began performing their routine landing duties. Tom decided to allow all the other passengers to deplane first so he could chat a few minutes with her without obstructing the door into the jet way. Before he left the aircraft he learned where she was staying before her next assignment two days hence. She was excited that the assignment would take her from Philadelphia International Airport to Rome, and then a few days later and another flight or two, back to her base in Chicago. Tom also let her know where he was booked so that they could try to get together. He promised to call her at her hotel in a few hours. The Blue Shuttle dropped Tom at his hotel and he got checked in and hit the shower. The hot water felt good hitting his back and as he soaped up he thought again about the come-on approach of the flight attendant. He particularly recalled her brazen, but appreciated little move with the leg crossing as they were landing. He didn't quite get the same view as Sharon Stone had given, in fact he was quite sure that Nancy, unlike the actress, was wearing panties. There had to be some airline regulation about that he imagined. The result, at least the result now that he was recalling it, was a rising hardon as he enjoyed the shower. He slowly began stroking himself but only for a minute or so. He was far more interested in saving that for when he had company. After drying off, he donned one of the hotel's terry cloth robes and sat on the bed. He started to reach for the telephone directory but instead wanted to test his memory. He dialed a number and heard it start to ring. After the third ring the receiver was picked up. "Hello," a soft voice said. "Priscilla?" "Umm, yes. Who is this?" Tom smiled, "A voice from your past. Don't you recognize me?" There was a pause of several seconds and then the other party inquired, "Tom? Tom Harrigan? Is that you?" "In the flesh," Tom laughed. "Well actually in a robe, but yes it's me. How have you been?" "You stinker, years have gone by and not a word from you. Where are you?" "I'm here, well that is, I'm in town, down in center city. Just flew in. I'll ask again – how have you been?" Her voice became abrupt, "Never mind that. Where have you been? You left for college and never a word since them. You never even sent a freaking post card or even a Christmas card. Did you fall off the earth?" Now Tom became apologetic. "I know. I'm guilty as charged, but then I never have been good at writing or keeping in touch. My folks almost disowned me for it. I never got back here after college, that is, except to box things up and have them shipped to me in Chicago. That's where I've been for the past few years. I started work there right after finishing school, and I never looked back. Anyway, it seems to me that we had something of a fall out just before I left. I wasn't even sure you ever wanted to hear from me again." "You bastard. We always had fall outs, but we always kissed and made up. I think you're just a big prick for what you've done. Well at least a nice prick, as I recall." Tom laughed at her memory. "Well it's nice to know I'm remembered for something. Tell me what's been happening in your life. Since this number still worked I'm guessing you are still at home and never got married." "Right on one account, but wrong on the other, at least partially right on one. I am here at home, but it's back at home rather than still at home. I did get married, but it only lasted a year. Someone you don't know and he too was a prick, although I mean it now in the worst way. I divorced the son of a bitch. About six months later my mom and dad were killed ion a car accident, so I came back to the house to live." "Sorry to hear about your folks. They were nice people and they always treated me well." "Yes, I miss them. Anyway, how long are you going to be in town?" "Just two nights, then I have to get back to Chi town to get ready for a trip to Australia." "Wonderful," he voice perked up. "Can we get together tonight?" Tom didn't want to lie, but saw no way out of begging off for that evening. "Ouch. That's not gonna work. I have an important meeting with a client this evening." He began trying to convince himself that Nancy just could be a client! "Shit," Priscilla replied, "and tomorrow won't work for me. I play Bridge with a group of girlfriends and tomorrow is Bridge night, not to mention that it's my turn to host." "Hmm. I guess I should have tried to call you before I got to town; bad planning on my part." "Wait a minute," she said, "If we can't get together for the evening, I'd at least like to see you if only for a quick visit. Plus I've told the girls about you a few times, so they almost feel they know you." "Oh no, that could be dangerous. Just what have you told them?" "Well just that you're a hunk and that you're my fish that got away. But they are all sweet and I know they'd love to see you. Couldn't you stop by for a short while?" "Just as long as I am not skewered or examined under a microscope, sure I'd love to see you." "Wonderful, plan to be here about half past seven. I guess you remember where I am." "I could find it blindfolded. Great to hear your voice again, I look forward to tomorrow night. Ciao, Pris." That call finished and plans for tomorrow now set, he again reached for the phone directory, but this time to look up the number of the hotel where the AA flight crew stayed. Reaching the hotel operator he asked to be connected to Ma Nancy Sinclair's room. The phone rang about six times and then a recording announced that the party was not answering and gave him the option of leaving a voice mail. At the tone he said, "Hi, Nancy. It's Tom. Sorry I missed you. Give me a call when you get back. I'm at the downtown Sheraton, room 527. Hope to hear from you soon." Tom then settled back and propped two pillows up at the head of the bed. He reached for the TV remote and began channel surfing. Nothing was very appealing so he punched the button to see what pay movies the hotel offered. As he expected, just like any major hotel, there was a selection of films tagged as Adult Only. He scrolled through the listing and had to laugh at some of the titles. He had to grin. "I wonder if the porn film companies have a VP whose only job is to come up with titles?" he wondered. He felt slightly tempted to go for one but thought seriously about it. His mind told him that they were always a disappointment. It seemed the production companies that marketed blue films to hotel chains, or maybe the hotels themselves, weren't quite ready to open the flood gates to full XXX movies. All the ones he had ever seen in hotels were obviously hard core films that had been edited so while they may show tits, ass, and pussies, they cancelled out any scenes showing cocks and therefore penetration as well. And the oral was always edited so that it was more by illusion than any real view of a blowjob or anyone eating pussy. Suddenly it dawned on him that while his right hand was managing the remote, his left and slipped inside the robe and he was actually holding onto his half hard cock. "Wow," he thought, "just browsing the selections is already getting me excited even though I know they are fully graphic movies. What the hell......" He selected the most serious title and clicked the accept button. The film titles popped onto the screen. He was about to watch "Hot Coeds Sign Up For ROTC." The film was just what he expected, the weakest story line, extremely amateurish acting, but some really hot starlets who would have needed no uniform allowance if they were really in the military. He realized that there was no way to tell what rank any of them had since naked bodies usually don't display chevrons. While the babes were the typically drop dead gorgeous types who had probably had every porn producer in Hollywood's dicks in every one of their openings, the guys would certainly have never passed a military inspection. I looked like if they had two haircuts a year, that was a stretch. So, though the movie, as a movie, was just as pitiful as he predicted, he enjoyed the great shots of action, limited in detail though they were. He mentally kept an inventory of the actual sex acts to see if they followed the classic recipe, and yes they did. There were a number of one on one, male female acts, all involving oral and fucking, two threesomes, one of each kind, several lesbian sessions, and a gang orgy with more participants than he could keep track of. Oh, and there were several fuck scenes that were observed secretly, in one case by a young man, the next time by a young woman. Naturally, their act of voyeurism led them to masturbating. As he noted this, Tom suddenly remembered that was exactly what his left hand was doing. Hoping he would hear from the stewardess, he thought he better not take himself to the point of cumming, so he let go of his cock and switched off the TV. Almost as if he had been psychic in his thoughts, the phone suddenly rang. He picked up the receiver expectantly. "Hello." "Hi handsome, it's Nancy. Sorry I was out when you called. The other girls and I were hungry so we had gone out for a bite." "Ah, well I hope you didn't hurt the guy," he joked. "No way. I'm saving those kinds of bites for you." "Ha Ha. Can it be you are as kinky as I am hoping?" "How soon would you like to find out?" she asked. "My place or yours?" he answered her question with his own. "Better be yours. That way the rest of the crew will have less chance of confirming what they already are thinking. When do you want me, Mister?" "An hour ago, but better late than never. Can you really come over right now?" "It's only three blocks. Will that give you enough time to get undressed?" "Considering that I already am undressed, it's too much time." Nancy laughed and said, "I love it, but shit, I should have started this conversation by asking, 'What are you wearing?'" "Oh, God. Do you really use that question with guys?" "Nope, and when I've had sex on the phone or on the internet, if a guy starts off with that stupid question, I move on to someone else." "Good, so I won't ask it, but I hope the answer very soon, is 'nothing.' Now, lady, get your hot ass over here on the double." "Start counting. I'll be there in a jiff. Bye." "Bye, Nancy." Tom straightened up the room a bit and went in and brushed his teeth. He thought of putting something other than the robe on, but thought, 'What the fuck. Why bother?' and just pulled the robe closed and tied the belt. He checked to see that the ice bucket he had filled earlier was still in good shape and he set the two bottles of liquor he had picked up at the package store next to the ice bucket. Just short of ten minutes he heard a soft tap on the door. Looking through the sight hole he verified it was her. He opened the door and Nancy stepped in. She was wearing a pair of light blue hiking shorts and a halter top that made it clear she was braless. "She winked at him and said, "Hi, Mister. Looking for a good time?" His answer was to back her against the door as it closed and bend to kiss her. The kiss was intense and it wasn't all to clear who was the more aggressive. Her hands wrapped around him and she grabbed a handful of terry cloth. As their tongues explored every corner of each others mouths, she pulled more and more of the robe up until she had uncovered his ass and she could release the material as her hands cupped his buttocks. Tom pulled his head away for a second and said, "Damn, you look good enough to eat." "That's the point," she replied, "and I am sure I am as hungry as you." With that their lips rejoined in an encore and they lingered together that way for what seemed an eternity. All the while she caressed his ass and he let his hands roam over her body, but never trying to slip inside her brief clothes. As they finally broke the second kiss, she winked at him and said, "You know what I like about these shorts I'm wearing?" "What?" he replied. "They don't fit tight on my thighs. I like them nice and roomy that way. What do you think?" He looked down at her tanned legs and grinned. He bent to kiss her again and once more it was a long extended kiss, wet and warm, but this time he reached down with his right hand and slipped his finger up under the hem of the left leg of her shorts. The moaning from her throat told him he was obeying her lead. As his finger tips reached up to fill the silkiness of her panties, he found out there was no silkiness only bare flesh and the soft curls of her pubes. This time, she broke the kiss and grinning up at him, said, "There. See why I like these shorts?" Grinning back he answered, "Yeah, I guess their okay for now, but in a minute they'll be just a memory." Her finger tips were gently sliding up and down the line between his buttocks as he began kissing and licking her neck and ears. She withdrew one hand from his ass and softly stroked the back of his head, pressing him to her to encourage his oral ministrations. She glanced past him and observed, "Oh, I see the bed's been turned down. Are you expecting company?" "Yes. These," he answered and quickly pulled the halter down to expose her breasts. "Well let's not keep them waiting," she replied and pushed his head down so that his lips brushed a swollen nipple. He licked one and then the other, but then stood and turning slightly he reached behind her thighs and behind her shoulders and picked her up, turning to carry her to the bed. She started laughing. "Oh how quaint, just like newlyweds crossing the threshold. Our first fuck in our new dream house." He gently deposited her on the bed and slipped the robe from his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. She responded by pulling the halter back up and over her head and quickly relegating her shorts to the floor. "Now, big boy, teach me who to fly," she commanded. They lay side by side on the large bed and mingled more wet kissing with total body exploration by their hands. He then slid down to again suckle at her tits, but she suddenly stopped him. "Have you ever done thirty four and a half?" she asked. He looked puzzled, and asked, "What on earth is thirty four and a half?" "This," she answered, and she turned so that her head was toward the foot of the bed, her feet toward the pillows. "Now slide down toward the foot of the bed a little," she directed. "Thirty four and a half? Don't you mean sixty nine?" "Nope. Thirty four and a half is half of sixty nine. This way we can both suck each others nipples." She started giggling at having caught him. "Aha, half a sixty nine. Very clever," he said. "Is that something they teach in Flight Attendant training?" "No way. I learned this when I was in eight grade, just starting to fill out." With that she darted a tongue across one of his nipples and he quickly responded in kind. As he sucked and tugged at her nipples he thought of how he was getting the better of the deal as he had significant nipples to suck while she was stuck with his puny male variety. She must not have minded though as she gently bit on his and used her tongue in a marvelous caressing way. As they both feasted on one another that way, their hands reach down to tantalize both cock and cunt. Her hand wrapped tenderly around his stiff penis and her thumb rubbed across the head spreading the more than ample precum that had begun oozing from him. He in turn was two fingers deep inside her wet pussy with his thumb stroking her clit just as her thumb was rubbing his head. Her other hand softly fondled his balls and she took her index finger and gathered some precum from the head, using it to slide back and forth along the bridge of flesh that separated his scrotum from his anus. He followed suit and used one finger, wet with her pussy juice to similarly caress the same area between the bottom of her cunt and her own anus. It seemed as if, whatever one of them added to the action, the other duplicated the act. Nancy suddenly released his nipple from her teeth and she slid down along his body, her own tits popping from his mouth as she moved. She was obviously now adding the second thirty four and a half to the equation, bringing the sum to sixty nine. He felt her lips kiss the tip of his cock and her tongue lap at the precum. He was ready to join her in completing the arithmetic but she suddenly sat up and said, "Oh. Wait a minute. Something else I learned in eighth grade." She stroked his cock with one hand and quickly more precum came to the surface. Using the other hand, she scooped some onto her finger tip and rubbed it all over one of her nipples. She repeated it again to the same nipple, ensuring it was glistening nicely with his pre-ejaculate. She then did two similar application to the second nipple so that both were now heavily coated with precum. Grabbing him by the back of the head, she pulled him to her breast and said, "Now suck my nipples again and taste what I'm enjoying from your cock." The idea startled him but more than that it intrigued and tempted him, and opening his lips he drew one nipple between them and used his tongue to lick all he could from the hard nipple. Satisfied that he had gathered it all he switched to the other and cleaned it as well. "You like," she smiled at him. "I like," he smiled back. "Here, let me do the same for you." With that he slid a finger deep inside her cunt. It was immediately soaked with her wetness and he rubbed the juice off onto one of his nipples. He repeated it, as she had done, to the other. He didn't have to pull her head to him. She was on his nipples the instant his hand was out of the way. "Damn, Nancy, I don't know what kind of school you attended, but it sure must have had one hell of an eighth grade. "It did," she said, "But this I learned in high school." She pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, once more in the full arithmetic position. He felt his cock slip between her lips and her tongue teasing it as she drew it deep into her throat. He looked up at the glistening wetness of her pussy and he reached behind her to pull her town to his mouth. She began sliding back and forth on his mouth as she simultaneously began bobbing her head up and down on his cock. As much as he'd enjoyed eating pussy, he had found that he usually preferred to not be sucked while doing so, just as he always wanted to fully enjoy a blow job with out the distraction of eating a woman simultaneously. But Nancy was different. Something about how she maximized the pleasure his cock received and was active in his action of eating her, he found for the first time that this mutual experience was greater than any other like experience he had ever had. He was further thrilled when she turned very active twice as she came for him. At last she seemed to relax her lower body and focus totally on what she was doing to him. That was all it took and almost catching him by surprise, she slipped a finger in her mouth to wet it and as she resumed aggressively sucking him, she slipped the wet finger between his ass cheeks and pressed it against his anus. He reflexively spread his legs at her urging and suddenly her finger was knuckle deep inside him. That was all it took and with a rush, his cum erupted from him and gushed into her hungry mouth. She sucked hard on him, drawing every last drop from him, then slipping her finger from him, she slid off his body and the two of them lay there exhausted. Going Home Chapter 2 They lay there, totally spent from the intense oral experience, so deeply asleep one might think only an earthquake could wake them. However, it wasn't an earthquake but the telephone that startled them both into consciousness. Tom grabbed at and shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. "Hello," he said. "Tom, it's Angela," the voice on the other end said. "Oh, Angela, hi. Everything ok?" he inquired. He placed his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered to Nancy that it was his secretary calling from Chicago. Nancy nodded and traipsed off into the bathroom. "You asked me to call you if we heard anything from Marwell corporation or from our facility in Thailand. I've got answers from both." Tom was becoming more alert. "Good news on both I hope." "Just the news you were hoping for. You want me to fax the numbers to the hotel?" As he reached for the note pad and pen on the bedside table, Nancy came back to the bed. "No, Angela, the details can wait until I get back, but can you give me the summary figures from both. I've got a pen and I'm ready." Nancy crawled up beside him and started licking his soft cock. "I'm ready too," she laughed. Tom waved his hand at her to shoo her away, but she persisted, and he struggled to hear the information correctly over the phone, and to write it legibly on the paper. He kept waving her to back off before he uttered something that Angela may hear and wonder about, but Nancy continued to tease him with her tongue. Despite the delightful distraction, he held his composure and instructed the secretary to have the full responses on the center of his desk when he returned on Monday. He rushed to thank her before he lost it and successfully ended the conversation. Hanging up the phone, he admonished his bed mate. "Damn, Nancy, you could have really caused me embarrassment there. You are one horny broad, that's evident." She gave him a pouting reply, "Ah, didn't you like it?" It was clear that the pout was sarcastic. "Of course I liked it, but I don't want my secretary eavesdropping on my affairs." "Oh, would she be jealous?" Nancy teased. "Jealous? Hell, she's an Italian grandmother who's about three months from a well deserved retirement. I just don't want her getting any wind of my life outside the office." "So what was she calling about that was so important?" "Just the response we were waiting for on a really huge joint venture. I'm glad to say that we got the replies we were hoping for." Nancy crawled back up to bring her face to his and said, "Good, let's fuck to celebrate." She reached back down and grabbed his cock, already half hard from the teasing she gave him as he completed the phone call. "That's a joint venture I can sign up to," he said. She rolled onto her back beside him and joked, "'Joint venture?' Is that a pun?" "No, and this isn't joking either," he scolded her and climbing on top of her, he slid upward so that his cock lay between her breasts. "Woo, a titty fuck. Now that I can agree to," she said. He now began sliding up and back and she cooperated by pressing her tits in from the side so that his cock was squeezed by the mounds. With each forward thrust he made, she darted out her tongue, sometimes in time to just lick at the head of his cock before moved on the backward stroke. Her hands clutched is ass cheeks and she took over setting the temp of his movements. He reached back with one hand and felt the rising warmth and wetness of her pussy. He cleverly coordinated his fingering of her so that it was in sync with the movement of his cock. They continued that way for several minutes and then he switched hands at her pussy and brought the hand freshly coated with her juices up to his lips. He drew one finger into his mouth and sucked the sweet juice from it. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand down, inserting the other soaked finger between her own lips. "God," he exclaimed, "You are one nasty woman, and I love it." "Happy to please," she smiled up at him and seductively licked his finger. "Well I hope I am pleasing as well in return," he noted. "Umm, you are, yes indeed you are." Tom then slid off her and turned her on her side, facing away from him. He then slid against her pressing his cock so it lay in the split between her ass cheeks. Just as he had just fucked her tits, he now started a masturbatory stroking between the cheeks. His hands were around her and as one stroked and tugged at her nipples, the other traced small circles around her clit. Nancy added to the intensity by squeezing him tightly between her ass cheeks as the precum oozing from his cock ran down his length and served to lubricate her flesh for his strokes. He was now as hard as he felt he had ever been and Nancy murmured that she wanted him inside her. Reaching behind her and raising one leg, she guided his cock to the opening of her cunt and pressed the head in. She removed her hand and Tom began pushing into her, her own movements coordinated to match his thrusts. Spooned together their rhythm slowing grew faster and more forceful and their rapid breathing followed suit. "Oh, God," she cried out, "Yes. Yes. Harder. Give me a fuck I'll never forget." Tom's response was not verbal, but rather an increase in tempo and force to meet her demand. Together their movements caused the bed linens to pull loose and bunch up under them and absorb the perspiration that dripped from their bodies. "Oh, fuck, it's wonderful," Nancy cried out, "Now. Now. Now." He body stiffened as the rush of orgasm ran through her and Tom felt her cunt tighten against his cock as he felt her wetness intensified the sound of their thrusting movements. "Ooh, it not only feels good, it even sounds good," she said. "Squish, squish, the sound of a perfect fuck." Tom slowed down as her cunt muscles began to relax. "No, no," she cried out, "Don't stop. Faster. Harder. Get me there again." With that he resumed his powerful thrusting, but began to feel the oncoming build up indicative of his own climax. "I'm pretty close, Nancy. I could cum any time now." "Keep going. I'm close too. And it feels like a monster. So fuck me hard, baby. I wanna feel that gush inside me." "Just about there, hon. Just about.......and now!" "Ooh, yes I feel it and mine is coming. Yes. Now!" They both thrust at each other to maximize the sensation and the bunched up bed sheet under them became soaked with the mixture of sweat and the cum oozing out of Nancy. "Don't pull out. Stay in me while you are still hard." Tom did as she asked and began kissing the back of her neck and her one earlobe as his hand softly stroked her breast and the thumb flicked back and forth over the nipple. Again the drifted off to sleep, until Nancy woke some time later and jumped up. "Shit. What time is it?" Tom looked at the digits on the clock radio. "Six fifteen," he told her. "God damn. I'm to meet the girls at six thirty. I have to get out of here." She grabbed her clothes and rushed into the bathroom and Tom heard her splashing water around in an effort to get a little presentable. In a few minutes she stepped back into the room, bucking the belt of her shorts and brushing at her hair with her hand. She bent to kiss Tom's cum covered, but soft cock and then brought her lips to his. He could taste the nearly dry cum from both of them on her lips and tongue. She broke the kiss and headed for the door, saying, "Bye, lover. Next time you fly, let me know and maybe I can get assigned to your itinerary." With that she flipped an airline business card at him and was out the door. He looked at the card and flipped it over. On the back she had written what he assumed was her cell number and she had made a lipstick impression of her lips. Chapter 3 The next day Tom checked out a number of the new hi-rise condos going up in center city. He was giving serious thought to purchasing a unit to encourage him to make more trips back to Philly to renew old acquaintances and to just begin enjoying the social scene. It would also be a wise financial move since values could only rise over the years. He had missed the old city and now that he was financially able to handle it, the idea had him excited. He tossed all the realtors materials in the back of his rental he had picked up that morning and headed for Bryn Mawr. Finding Pris's home was no problem. The location had been etched into his mind from all their years as an item. The house looked just as he remembered and the number of cars parked in the circular drive reminded him that she was entertaining a bridge group. Hoping his visit would not disturb the card playing, he decided he would not stay long. The doorbell rang with the familiar three tone chime he remembered from years past. The door opened quickly and he stared into an unfamiliar pair of penetrating green eyes in a face framed by brilliant red hair. "Well hi," the voice of the green eyes said seductively, "You just have to be Tom." "Uh, yeah," he stammered, "I guess I must be. And who must you be?" "It's him, "green eyes called over her shoulder, "And he looks even hotter than you told us." She turned back to him and said, "Come on in, we've been expecting you." As he stepped into the house, Priscilla came rushing into the hall and pushed green eyes aside. "Tommy!" she yelped and jumped up wrapping her arms about his neck and kissing him hard on the lips. Suddenly the entry hall had four women and Tom in it. Three of them were giggling to one another while the fourth was still clinging to him and kissing all over his face. "I guess this means you're glad to see me," he teased his former girlfriend, "Or have all the other men from town been gone for years like me?" "Damn you, you stinker, I'm still pissed at you for not staying in touch all these years." "Well," one of the three others pleaded, "Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" Pris turned to face the three and said, "I really don't think any of you deserve it, but I've never been uncivil to a guest, so I guess I must let him meet you." She turned and extended a hand toward a shot brunette and said, "Tom, this is Sally." Tom nodded politely and smiled at the girl. "Next to her is Robin." A tall blonde nodded at him and jokingly made a small curtsy. "And Wicked Wanda, you've met," she said, pointing out the green eyed redhead. "She's wicked, alright," one of the others giggled. "Screw you, Robin, just cause I saw him first, you're jealous, as usual." "No way, honey," Pris interjected, "I saw him first – years ago, so go sit on a bedpost." "She just came from doing that," Sally said, and the three of them laughed while Wanda stuck her tongue out at them. As Pris closed the entry door, Tom said, "I hope I didn't interrupt a rubber, I mean, you know, a hand of bridge." "No way," Robin offered, "We've just been sitting around drinking and hearing interesting tales about you." She said "interesting" very slow and with pronounced lips movement as if she was speaking to someone hard of hearing but who read lips. "When Pris began telling us about you and her, we lost interest in playing cards." "Ignore them," Pris said, taking his arm and leading him into the living room. They're the three horniest bitches in town." "Wrong, Pris," Wanda said, "We make up the four horniest, and you're the horniest of all." Tom suddenly wondered what he had wandered into. All four were fantastic looking, and if they were all horny, then the local male population was in serious need of therapy. "I made a big pitcher of Long Island Ice Tea and the only reason we're all sober is none of us has finished the first glass yet. Would you like a glass, or maybe a beer or something else?" Tom nodded at the pitcher and said, "The Long Island sounds fine to me, thanks." He sat on the end of a couch and while Pris poured him the drink, Robin and Sally came to the couch and had him move to the center. They then plopped down on either side of him. When Pris handed him the glass she made Sally move toward the end of the couch and she wiggled her butt right down into the space nest to Tom. Pris began asking him all about what he had been up to the past few years while the other three listened to his replies, but also pouted knowing they weren't really a part of the conversation. Robin, sitting on one side of Tom had placed a hand on his leg, just above the knee, but made no further movement, as if gauging his reaction. He made known initially, his attention focused on his former girl on his opposite side. Finally he turned for a second and gave the tall blonde a warm smile, then turned back to Pris. As he turned, he noticed a movement across for the couch. Wanda had been sitting there listening to the conversation, and when he detected a motion as he turned to Pris, he looked back for a second and saw that Wanda was sitting there with her legs slightly spread and her hands resting on the inside of both knees. He glanced up to her face and the penetrating green eyes were locked right on his. He offered her the same smile he had given Robin and looked back to Pris. Pris had not been unaware of what happened and she said to Tom, "Ignore her, she's a whore." Wanda didn't let the slur pass by and replied, "Aren't we all, Pris?" With that, he felt Robin's fingers starting to rub the inside of his thigh just above his knee, when suddenly Sally jumped up from the end of the couch and complained that she felt out of the picture. With that she walked over to where Wanda sat, legs spread, and sat on the arm of the same chair. In doing so the hem of her skirt rose up to about mid thigh and Tom got a quick flash of panty as she crossed her legs. Her one arm draped over the back of the chair and dropped down to rest on Wanda's shoulder. Pris was now duplicating the finger action Robin had begun and when Tom looked back to her, she raised her lips to him. Tom wasn't sure what to do at this point. Kissing his old girlfriend in a room of several horny woman was something he had never faced before. But Pris's lips were inviting and even demanding and he lowered his to meet hers. He meant to make it a very brief, and even a bit innocent, but her other hand reached behind his neck and pulled his face firmly to hers, holding it there so he couldn't back away too easily. "Umm, you still kiss wonderfully," she mumbled into his mouth. At his, Robin spoke up and said, "Pris, remember, we always share." She pushed Pris's hand off Tom's neck and replacing it with her own, turned his face to hers. In that instant he found his lips now pressed against the blonde's and a new touch pressing into his mouth. It was a new taste and that surprised him. With them all drinking the same thing he would have expected both girls to taste the same, but the surprise excited him even more. Suddenly, Wanda was up from her chair, nearly knocking Sally to the floor with her motion, and she sat on Tom's left leg. No sooner had Robin's lips and tongue separated from his then Wanda's replaced them and her tongue whipped around inside hi mouth like a Ferrari in high gear. The only thing missing was the sound of an engine's roar, and as he tried to respond with equal rapid tongue action he felt another body sit on his right leg. He didn't have to look, it had to be petite Sally. He almost had to force Wanda to release his lips, and when she finally did, Sally's were instantly glued to him. Sally's actually seemed the softest, and surprisingly, the tastiest. As he enjoyed her prolonged kiss he suddenly realized Wanda wasn't sitting on his leg any more, and he felt a hand rubbing his crotch, or was it two hands, or even three? He had reflexively closed his eyes during each kiss he received, but know, as he continued to be lip locked with Sally, he raised his left eyelid and strained to see what it was he was feeling. Wand was kneeling on the floor in front of him and a hand from each side (could only be Pris's and Robin's) were triangulating over the rising bulge in his pants. Suddenly he felt a tongue probing each of his ears and the distinctive sound and feel of his zipper being lowered. Sally finally broke the kiss and dropped to the floor to kneel beside Wanda – Wanda who now had his pant's open and her hand inside searching for the flap in his boxers. Sally suddenly pulled his shirt tail from his waist and started tugging it up and over his head. The two tongues withdrew and he was now bare-chested. Wanda's hand had found her target and as the two tongues, former temporary occupants of his ears now appeared on each of his nipples, Sally continued he 'assignment' and was unbuckling his belt so his slacks could be pulled down. That was accomplished easily enough, but she could get his boxers down since Wanda seemed unable to release her grip on his now, fully extended cock. "Stop," he called out to them and stood up from the couch. He pushed Wanda's hand away. The girls looked stunned. What on earth was wrong with him they each wondered? But he quickly allayed their concern as he kicked his shoes off, moved to the chair abandoned by Wanda, and removed his socks and boxers. He then looked at them and said, "Now – this is apparently what you all wanted-----but-----there is no way I am going to remain naked in a room of fully dressed women. Take it or leave it." If the Olympics had a team event of undressing, this crew would have established a world record time. It seemed an instant before each of them stood before him, each clad in bra and panties. "Is this better?" Pris asked him. He looked the quartet over, shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well.......I guess it's a start." The four giggling girls dropped to the floor in front of him and it seemed like a major sale at Lord & Taylor's as they each tried to reach for his erect cock. He was suddenly amazed to find that his lap could hold four heads as he felt the delicious sensation of four wet tongues lapping at his cock and balls. He leaned as far forward as he could and reaching behind them in sequence, unhooked four sets of bra hooks. Hmm, he thought, I am very familiar with a six pack, but I think I converting to eight packs from now on. Tom suddenly realized he faced a challenge. He had been in a three way before, and both kinds. When he paired up with a buddy and a sweet young thing they knew, the shared 'workload' (ha ha) was a snap. Then, we he had spent a night with two ladies, he found the challenge was easy to meet, not to mention that the ladies were bi, so each of the players worked well with the other two. He had once envisioned himself with three ladies, but struggled with how that would work out. Now he had leapfrogged from that fantasy to the reality of being with four women, and at the moment all four were licking his cock. That, however, he knew would not last, so he started thinking of how she should get involved and what he should do next. His mental struggle didn't last long though, and he decided to not worry about it and go as the spirit moved him. He made the move from being a passive love object of the four women by pulling Pris up from the floor and resuming their kissing. He also found it extremely delightful that her nipples seemed even longer that he remembered, and thinking his tongue perhaps had a better memory than his eyes, he lowered his face so he could suck one between his lips and explore and measure it with his tongue. Yes, he found out, his tongue realized these were the very nipples he enjoyed, of so long ago. Robin looked up from her tongue task and moved up on his other side. She pulled his head over from Pris to her own tits. They were larger that Pris's but the nipples, though hard, were actually shorter. So what, he thought, they are still a delight. He then had Pris and Robin stand and drop their panties to the floor. When Sally and Wanda saw this, they too stood and did the same. Sally had a full dark brown bush. He suspected it had never seen a razor. Wanda was shaved clean and he reached out and felt the smoothness of her lips. Robin, though a blonde, had a well trimmed light brown 'landing strip,' while his former girl friend had the same triangular sandy colored bus he recalled and still thought beautiful. He wanted to taste one of them but realized to be fair he needed to taste them all, so he rose and had them sit beside each other on the couch. He stood before them, stroking his cock and surveyed the smorgasbord before him. Sally was on his left, with Wanda, Robin, and then Pris to the right of her. Going Home Tom dropped to his knees between Sally spread legs and lowered his face to her wild forest. He had to use his hands to spread the dense hair to reveal her lips, which he then lowered to kiss. Because she was the shortest of the group, she had to slide forward to give him full access. It was no surprise that she was already soaked with her own wetness, and he added to it as he bathed her cunt with his tongue. He only lingered there a short while for he knew the other three were anxious for him. Giving a last kiss and lick to her small clit, he moved over to Wanda. Before he even lowered his head to between her legs, the redhead with the bald cunt raised both her legs and laid them across his shoulders. Her lips were spread and glistening and he dove down to taste her. As his tongue explored her depths, her clit protruded from its hood and he delightfully sucked on it. The redhead moaned with exquisite pleasure and pulled his head harder against her. He tongued down and with her legs upon his shoulders he was able to giver her anus several teasing licks. Leaving Wanda shivering with delight, he moved to Robin. She had been fingering herself in anticipation of what was coming, and he did not fail her. He tongued deeply unto her and then back to lick and suck at her protruding clit. She too grabbed his head and raised her knees so that her feet were on the edge of the couch and she begged, "My ass. My ass. Just like Wanda." Never one to turn a lady down, Tom obliged and swept his tongue back and forth across he tight ping rosebud. Suddenly she cried out, "Ooh, I'm cumming, ahhhh." Tom moved back from her ass to taste the increased wetness of her cunt, which only made her squeal louder before she began breathing deep and slow again.. Tom now looked up at Pris, but instead of moving to between her legs, he stood and took her hand, pulling her from the couch. He drew her to him and they kissed deeply. He whispered in her ear and she nodded in agreement. Moving away from her, he offered his hand to Wanda. She looked up at him in puzzlement. As she took his hand he pulled her from the couch and had her get down on all fours in parallel to the couch. The other two on the couch stared at the scene before them, wondering what he was up to. He knelt on the floor between Wanda's spread legs and pointed his cock at her pussy. Slowly he inched forward and the girl moaned with delight as she felt the head of his cock press between her cunt lips. She worked with him as he pressed forward and very quickly he was buried all the way into her. He then looked up to Pris and nodded his head. She walked around in front of Wanda and straddling the kneeling girl, she moved down her body until she was facing Tom. She leaned backwards letting her hands rest on Wanda's shoulders for support, and Tom bent forward to bring his lips and tongue to Pris's pussy. Now as he pumped in and out of Wanda from behind, his tongue moved in and out of his ex girlfriend's cunt. Sally and Robin stared at the scene before them and began fingering themselves. The excitement in them grew and suddenly they were kissing and then they stopped fingering themselves and instead did each other. Tom paused in his licking of Pris and looked over at them. Smiling at their excitement, he said, "We don't mean to leave you out. Why not join us?" Robin looked at him and asked, "How?" Now Tom revealed the plan he had whispered to Pris. "Robin, crawl under Wanda until you can lick my balls while I fuck her. Sally, you get behind me and do the same." The two girls jumped up from the couch and Robin lay on her back, slowly inching her body, head first, under Wanda. As she got to just below Wanda's tits, hanging down at her, she sucked the nipples before moving further down. When she reached the point just under when Tom's cock was moving in and out of the redhead's cunt, she thought there was no way she could lick at him while he was moving so much. She suddenly felt her own pussy being penetrated. Wanda was licking at her clit and lips. Robin responded by now licking up at the top of Wanda's pussy and sometimes getting a lick at the cock thrusting above her. Sally lay on her tummy behind Tom and leaning on her elbows, she tongued at his ass each time his stroke brought him back to her. The five of them quickly locked into a rhythm and three of the girls had their first orgasm. Pris as she felt the deep penetration of Tom inside her and Wanda and Robin as they ate each other while Tom's cock pounded Wanda. Tom paid attention to how they did, waiting until all three had cum at least twice. Then he pulled out of Wanda and sat back on the couch, his cock glistening with her juices. He pulled Sally to him and had her straddle him as his cock slid easily into her. Now he pounded up inside her, sucking on one breast and then another until he felt the smallest of the group finally cum in a shiver of pleasure. He picked up the pace and finally let his eruption loose as he filled her hairy pussy with a major rush of cum. He and Sally fell back onto their sides on the couch as the other three lay on the floor, still feeling the intensity of what had just happened.. Pris looked up at him at reached for his cock. He stopped her and said, "Give me just a minute." He rose and went to his trousers, reaching for the wallet. He rifled through it and pulled out a business card. "Phone?" he asked. Pris nodded at one on the table near the window. Tom walked over and referring to the card, dialed a number. In a few seconds a voice answered. ""Ms Hagerty?" he asked. "Yes," the voice answered. "This is Tom Harrigan. You showed me that condo in the Park View building earlier today?" "Yes, Mr. Harrigan. Did you have some more questions about it?" "Nope. No questions. I'll take it. If we can meet tomorrow, we can do the paperwork. See you about ten?" Getting an agreed response, he said goodbye and hung up the phone. He walked back over to where the four girls were staring at him. "Anybody want to fuck?" Going Home It had been years since I'd been back to my home town. *** She took me completely by surprise. As I strolled through the supermarket gathering the few items I would need for my brief stay, the voice came from behind me as if through a dream. I recognized it immediately, having heard it playing over in my mind for years. "What's a nice guy like you doing in a place like this." Chuckling lightly, I twisted to peer over my shoulder, catching Shari in my gaze for the first time in an eternity. Years of family life had been very kind to her, her warm smile and twinkling eyes softening my memories of her as an intensely passionate woman. Turning further, I then caught sight of her husband Fred following close behind her. While I didn't hold any grudge against Fred, he had always personified a feeling of regret for me. I had been the one to leave town for my dreams. He had stayed behind and married the real dream. Our breakup had been amicable; she understood my wanderlust. It was just times like these where I'd see her, and he would always be nearby, giving me that grin. I never understood her attraction to him, his slight build completely contributed to what I had decided was a fairly active Napoleon complex. From my suspicious eyes, it seemed like everything in their relationship was all about him, never about her. Of course, I shouldn't criticize too deeply. I ran away. They got married and seem to be going the distance. After a bit of small talk in the soup aisle, I found myself getting directions to their house and promising to be over that night for dinner. Cursing myself as I picked up a bottle of cabernet for the evening, I left the store, my mood beginning to match the darkening skies. *** What the hell, I thought as I rang the bell. Fred opened the door with a look of concern, pulling me in with a handshake. Drenched with rain, I absentmindedly began to try to repair my wind-blown umbrella as he watched with slight amusement. After getting it back together, I cast a slightly embarrassed look in his direction and set my umbrella down. Shari came around the corner, looking more dazzling than I could ever remember. A far cry from the jeans and sweatshirt she had worn when I'd seen her at the market, she now wore a tempting black evening gown. While I wouldn't describe it as slinky, it definitely fit her curves extremely well. The material clung to the swell of her hips as though it was a second skin, shimmering with her every move. The upper portion clung to her large breasts jealously, almost begrudgingly exposing her bountiful cleavage to the world. "Goodness, what a sight you are," she exclaimed as she shifted her gaze from me to my useless umbrella. Likewise, I thought as she invited me further into the house. After ushering us both into the living room, Shari took the bottle from me to get both Fred and I glasses of wine. The wine and small talk with the two of them couldn't distract me from the pangs of regret I felt for ever losing Shari. It had been my own fault, insisting on chasing all of my dreams to faraway places. She had been my anchor at home, finally giving up on me and settling down into a calm marriage. I couldn't blame her, and was even able to attend the wedding. Fred had always known of my relationship with Shari and seemed to enjoy taunting me with the fact that she had married him and not me. For myself, I knew that she was a sacrifice that I had to make those many years ago. I felt like she was better off without me. I wondered if she felt the same way. Knowing that I was only here for dinner, I curtailed my alcohol consumption, but Fred kept at it, finishing the bottle on his own and then starting a new one. Before the meal was over, Fred had a bit of a glassy expression on his face as he continued to try to maintain conversation. Before long, we had retired to the living room once more and Fred was snoring on the couch, still holding his glass. As soon as it was clear that Fred was not going to move, Shari quietly stood up and beckoned for me to follow her. I still wasn't convinced I knew what she was doing, so I cautiously followed her into a very small laundry room on the other side of the house. With a cautious glance behind her, she pushed me into the room and embraced me in a furious kiss. After several minutes of oral wrestling, Shari pushed me away with a serious look on her face. "I just want you to know that I love Fred dearly. He and I have built a beautiful life together, but I have never had the same sexual spark with him that I have with you. He just doesn't do the things to me that I need..." her words trailed off as her lips touched mine once again. I allowed my hands to explore her once familiar body as her kiss grew more serious. She then began to slide down my body until she was on her knees, her beautiful face only inches away from my zipper. "Let's see if you're still as healthy as I remember you," she said as she pulled my growing cock loose from my pants. I closed my eyes as I first felt her tongue touch the tip. I had been there before, many years ago, but it felt like new territory as she tenderly toyed with me. Her fingers began to gently massage my thighs, inching closer to my more sensitive areas. Feeling a slightly different sensation, I opened my eyes to see Shari's tongue stabbing at the end of my cock, as if she could push it into me. One hand gripped my member to steady it as she began this new exploration. I once again closed my eyes and leaned my head back, surrendering myself momentarily to her will. Although in fact her tongue could only penetrate me there by a few millimeters I had never before felt this type of contact and delighted in it. Ever the considerate and talented fellatio artist, Shari pushed one final time against the hole with her tongue and then sucked my entire cock deep into her mouth. This familiar sensation I remembered well from her. I opened my eyes to admire her from above. I had seen it dozens of times; the entire length of my shaft would disappear into her mouth until I felt her nose touch my skin. She would pause for a moment before pulling back, exposing my now slippery cock to the air before swallowing it again. It's very easy to lose your mind when you're with a woman like this. To feel her pulling at you from the core. To have a slight sensation of weightlessness as she gently milks your soul from you in such a loving manner. I opened my eyes to see Fred standing meekly in the doorway. The look of shock on his face at the sight of his lovely wife on her knees before me should have made me pause, but the obvious bulge in his pants betrayed his true state of mind. Feeling empowered, I merely leaned a little further back for a moment savoring the magic that Shari was bestowing upon me. Opening my eyes once again, I looked at him and saw him staring directly towards my crotch, which was obscured from his view by the back of Shari's head. After a few moments, he broke his attention away from that scene as his gaze traveled up to meet my eyes. I continued what must have been a cold stare for him until he looked back down again in shame. Triumphantly, I continued the stare, running my hands through Shari's hair, beginning to guide her slightly. I'm not sure what exactly caught her attention, but she suddenly stopped and turned away from me to see him standing there. The look on her face was simply amazing to me. At first she wore shock.. Perhaps the same shock that I initially had on my face. In an instant, however, as she realized that Fred was not going to try to rescue her from my clutches, her expression changed to one of anger. Without a word or second thought, Shari turned her attention once again to my cock. After giving it a briefly teasing lick at the top, she swallowed the entire length in one motion and began to bob aggressively. Now I would consider myself a fairly worldly man, having experienced my share of sexual gratification, but even I have to admit that this was a new dynamic for me. While it's true that I'd bedded a few women that I probably shouldn't have, I had never done so with their partner in the room, much less seemingly enjoying the act. Feeling a surge of courage and wanting to push things a bit, I looked over to Fred who had dropped his pants. He had started stroking his cock, which I happily noted was quite a bit smaller than my own. "You know what to do," was all I said. Fred paused for a moment, and then as though he was a marionette, he let go of his cock and moved towards Shari. She continued to work on my cock, attempting to cooperate with him as he worked to free her body from the tightly fitting ensemble that she still wore. With very few interruptions to her skillful treatment of my manhood, Shari was soon completely and gloriously nude. It had been years since I had seen them, but I had not forgotten exactly how perfect her breasts were. As befitting the magical creature that she truly was, it seemed as though gravity had not yet found Shari's tits. Full and round, Shari's large breasts sat fairly high on her chest, peaked by perfectly perky pink nipples. I took just a moment to try to enjoy the view of her treasures, looking past the spectacular blowjob that she was continuing to give me. Now nude and apparently free of guilt, Shari began to pull my pants the rest of the way off. I kicked at my shoes flinging them across the laundry room in my fight to free myself of any encumbrance. Feeling silly wearing just socks and a shirt, I pulled off my shirt, resigning myself to the fact that the socks would have to wait. For her part, Shari continued to cheerfully bob up and down on my cock, oblivious to Fred stripping behind her. Fully nude and erect, Fred stood and started to pull Shari up by the hips. She never slowed her work on my cock, but as my eyes met hers I made a conscious decision that I would claim her as my own, at least for the moment. Just as he was prepared to push his rod into Shari, I spoke. "That's not for you right now. Get her ready for me." Fred looked like I'd slapped him. Shari slowed for a moment and then dove back in with renewed vigor as Fred settled behind her and spread her cheeks with his hands. His tongue tentatively poked out and separated her pussy lips. From my angle, Shari must have been extremely wet, because Fred's face was seemingly sliding all over her backside. As her passion mounted, she reached back with one hand and grabbed Fred by the hair, holding his face against her. Shari's first orgasm shook her entire body. Simply holding onto my cock and Fred's hair, her mouth opened wide as she let out a silent scream of ecstasy. As the waves crashed through her, she found herself unable to be an active participant in our group; she was reduced to a mass of nerves, receiving very different stimulation from two very different sources. Just as she was beginning to calm, I pulled her off of me and spun her around, bending her at the waist over the dryer. In one smooth move, my cock sank completely into her boiling pussy. I paused for a moment, allowing both of us to get accommodated to the intense contact, and then pulled almost completely back out of her. She composed herself just enough to grunt and force her hips back at me, impaling herself once again on my stiff phallus. I closed my eyes and worked with her to establish a pulsing rhythm, sliding myself in and out of her body. I looked over to Fred, who was now sitting on the floor, eyes glazed in rapt attention at the treatment I was giving his wife. His hand was a blur as he pounded at his meat, clearly close to an explosion. Once again taking control of the scene, I spoke to Fred, "in her mouth now!" With visible glee, Fred sprung to his feet and offered his swelling organ to Shari. With nearly imperceptible disappointment, Shari opened her mouth and accepted Fred's penis. The contrast in her body language was amazing to me. From her hips down she was a woman on fire, thrusting and gyrating with my every move. Fred's half of her body went about the business of sucking his cock with a disdain akin to what she might feel watching a documentary on the mating habits of sea slugs. Nevertheless, Fred appeared to be in his own world, screwing his eyes shut, only opening them momentarily to stare at my larger shaft violently spearing into his wife. As Fred's orgasm loomed near, I leaned forward to whisper into Shari's ear, "don't you dare swallow it or I'll stop." She seemed to understand my point and suddenly came alive with passion, her entire body twisting and tensing, pulling at both Fred and I as though we were moths to a flame. As soon as Shari's enthusiasm exploded into Fred, he likewise began to explode into her. Stifling a scream, Fred's entire body tensed as the spasms overtook his body. Shari continued to work his prick, her hands jerking at his shaft as his seed flowed into her ready mouth. As his excitement began to decline, Shari backed away from him and silently watched as he slinked back onto the floor, exhausted. I wondered momentarily how long it had been since he had felt such passion with his beautiful wife. Pushing that thought from my mind, I once again spoke to Fred, "kiss your wife, you fool. Kiss her if you love her." Wearily, Fred rose again to his knees and gingerly caressed Shari's cheeks. Parting his lips, he met hers in a lover's embrace. Squirming against the assault I was continuing to give her pussy and feeling her own orgasm rising inside, Shari reached and grabbed Fred's head tightly and returned the kiss. I'm not sure how exactly to describe the look of bewilderment that crossed Fred's face as his wife began to orgasm in that very moment. Her body at first went completely rigid, her arms pulling his lips to her mouth with a vice-like grip. The passion in the kiss that she gave to him was unmistakable, fueled by not only a long denied sense of sexuality, but also by the milky fluid that she then passed into his mouth. As Fred realized what she was doing, he immediately tried to pull away, but her grip was too strong, too sure. She continued the kiss, force feeding his entire load back out of her own mouth and into his. Responding to her authority in the matter, Fred surrendered all resistance, returning the kiss whole heartedly. He accepted her gift graciously, licking at her chin as her orgasm continued to tear at her. The amazing movements of Shari's hips would have been plenty to push me over the edge into my own dizzying orgasm, but the sight of her snowballing him at my request was simply too much for me. Slamming my pelvis against her quivering ass, I grabbed onto her hips and drove myself as deep as I could as my own cock began to spurt ropes of semen into her boiling pussy. My legs began to tremble somewhat as the sensations coursed through my body, so I clung to her hips as a drowning man would to a piece of driftwood. Her own spasms beginning to dwindle, Shari gamely continued to gyrate her shapely ass, milking every bit that I had to give to her. Collapsing to the ground in a heap, I leaned against the hamper by the wall, Shari still joined to me intimately below. Now in a sitting position, she tenderly reached over her shoulder to give me brief but passionate kiss as I began to feel my manhood deflating inside of her. Looking over to Fred, I decided that Shari needed one final triumph. One last piece to reassert her sexuality with this man whom she obviously loved yet also despised. I had seen his love for her in the moments before, and felt his surrender to her should be complete. As my spent member popped out of Shari's pussy, I quietly said to Fred, "give her one more orgasm." Fred shamefully looked down at his own withering cock and all too quickly understood what I had asked of him. Shari had closed her eyes in post-orgasmic bliss and did not see as Fred meekly crawled between her legs. She opened them in amazement as she felt his hands gently spreading her legs for him to advance upon her mound, which had begun to ooze with my milky white deposit. Shyly at first, Fred began to lap at Shari's ravaged pussy, causing her to start grinding at his face. Semi-spooning in the upright position as we were, I was able to hug Shari close to me, my fingers inevitably finding her stiff nipples. I gently rolled them between my fingers, attempting to heighten her pleasure as Fred continued his task below us. Hesitant at first, Fred now lapped at Shari's heated pussy with zeal. As her passion mounted for a final time, Shari started to gyrate, coaxing more of my seed to spill forth. From my angle over her shoulder, it was an amazing sight: her red pussy, my white cum, Fred's busy mouth. As quickly as each bulbous drop would burst forth from her wet lips, Fred would lick it and then continue to paint her throbbing pussy with his busy tongue. As stimulated as she was, Shari was quick to orgasm. Crying out in ecstasy, she crossed her legs behind Fred's head, securing his face against her sex. Fred continued his duties, aggressively lapping at her as she crested, then slowing as she came down from her high. Eventually, Fred backed away and lay down exhausted as Shari's limp body seemed to melt against my own. Some time later, I awoke with a start, still feeling Shari's naked body against my own. My movements must have caught her attention as she also began to revive from a nap as well. She glanced quickly at Fred's sleeping form on the floor before us and then back over her shoulder at my smiling face. Quietly we managed to stand and exit the small room without disturbing him and met a few minutes later in the kitchen. Quietly dressing, I spoke to Shari. "Are you okay with this?" "With what, getting caught sucking off another man in front of my husband? The huge orgasms that followed that? Or the fact that I seem to now own him...," her words trailed off. I laughed and started to move towards the door, "well I think you'd better go collect him and explain the new rules." She laughed back, hugging me as I moved out the door into the night. "When will you be back in town again?" Going Home Again John's tale Ever since that fateful day things had just never been as good. I was living the life! I was 24 and ½ of the most perfect common law couple you can imagine. My "wife" was my high school sweetheart. I had just finished university and, thanks to a deal with my parents that they would pay for school, had no debt at all. Actually I had 2 complete skill sets. My dad was a barber, so I learned the craft of haircutting from him as a teen. I got my certificate as a hairstylist a year after graduating at the age of 18 (I was a September baby, so I graduated at 17). Once that was done I got my teaching degree. I worked as a hairdresser in my dad's barbershop while I hunted down a teaching job. Mariah, my other half, had one more year of school left and I was happily supporting her. She majored in finance and nobody doubted that she would be a major player in the business world one day. She had the whole package: confidence, intelligence, drive and looks. She could walk into any situation and immediately assess it, take control of it and look damn good in the process. Did I mention that she was gorgeous? A 5'9" longhaired brunette whose slender frame belied her strength of will and character. She had curves where she was supposed to without them being overly exaggerated and kept herself fit and toned. She would turn heads in any place she walked into. I had the world in the palm of my hand. Atlas had nothing on me. He had to use his shoulders! Then one day I came home early from my dad's barber shop to work on some applications for a teaching job. I guess Mariah had not been expecting me home at 2 in the afternoon because she had a pair of guests with her. I would not have thought anything of this if I had not found her two very male, very naked guests lying in OUR bed on either side of my naked Mariah. I didn't catch her in the act or anything, thank goodness. I don't know how I would have handled that. It was pretty clear what they had been up to, however. I stood there in shock, staring at the three of them, my mind empty. Mariah gasped and grabbed a pillow to cover herself with. The two guys just looked amused. "John! You're home early," exclaimed Mariah. Yup, that's my Mariah, sharp as a tack. I managed to remain calm, which was quite a feat considering my heart was crumbling in my chest. "Yes, I am," I replied in monotone. I'll bet I had a "rabbit in the headlights" look on my face, though. Mariah hopped out from between the two guys, who just sat there like a couple of moronic lumps, and scampered off the bed toward me. "It's not what it looks like," she pleaded. I looked down at her crotch and saw the seed of at least one of the guys dripping down her leg, pointed and replied, "It looks like you need to clean up. I'll be back in an hour. I'll expect you two not to be here." I looked at the two guys, then turned and walked out. As I stalked away I heard Mariah call out, "John!" I didn't stop, though. I had to get out before my façade of calmness broke. I went for a long walk. I don't know if it was an hour or if it was more, but the important thing is it calmed me down. After a while I was able to return to the apartment and face the situation. The two studs were gone when I got back. Mariah was sitting on the couch in sweat pants and one of my T-shirts, her hair still damp from taking a shower I guessed. She looked up at me with a truly haunted expression on her face. It was hard to look at her when she had that look on her face. She croaked out, "John?" I stood there, trying to think of what to say. I had been raised to take the bull by the horns, so I just straightforwardly asked, "Why?" I could almost see the wheels in her head turning, the little rat on it running hard as she thought about what to say and how to say it in order to cause the least amount of damage. After a few moments she said, "Please sit down." I did not sit down. I knew what kind of power she had over me and I would not concede the advantage of position or height. Damn it, I would be the one in control of this situation if I could at all help it! She looked a little frightened as I used my 6-foot height to tower over her with my arms crossed in front of me. She never lost that haunted expression. Finally she broke down and started to talk. "John, you have every right to be mad at me. What I did was wrong and I admit it. But please let me explain." "That's why I'm here right now. Explain away." "Well, we've been together a long time. Since we were 16 and in high school! I've never dated anyone but you before. Not ever. I love you and would never trade away the last 8 years for anything, but, well, I have often wondered what other guys would be like." "I see. Well, do you know now? Are you done?" If that was the end of it I could probably forgive her, put it behind me and get through this with her. "Well..." That pause smashed my crumbling heart to powder. I was not enough for her and now I knew it. "John, I love you. I really do. I love you more than I can ever put into words and I don't want to lose you. Can we work something out here?" "Like what" "Like...well...do you think you could handle me dating other men?" My powdered heart caught fire then and started to burn...angry flames! She quickly continued, "I would still be yours, John. My heart will always be yours. I just want to try this. I promise, I'll never leave you for any of the guys I sleep with. That will just be sex. My heart and soul will always be yours. Only yours!" I gave her a harsh glare and I could see her eyes well up. "If I let you screw around with other men, how will you feel while I am screwing other women?" "Well, uhhh..." It was obvious that she did not like that idea at all! She gulped and said, "I guess I'd have to handle it. I'd be a hypocrite if I said you couldn't." She actually looked at the floor to hide how pale her face was getting as she said that. I saw all I needed with that one gesture. "That's what I thought." I stalked into the bedroom and noted that she had changed the sheets and blanket. I guess she thought if I didn't see any evidence of her infidelity it would be easier for me to sleep in that bed with her. I had no intention of doing so now. I packed up some of my clothes as she came into the bedroom behind me. I zipped up the suitcase and Mariah cried unashamedly. "John, please, don't leave! Stay tonight and we can talk more in the morning!" I zipped up the suitcase and brought it down to the front door. Then I started to disconnect one of the two computers (mine), which made her wail even harder, pleading for me not to leave her. I called for a taxi and went outside to wait for it. Mariah cried and begged me not to go when the cab arrived and I got in it. Too little too late. Just like that 8 years of happiness ended. My ever-supportive parents let me stay with them for a while. I worked in my dad's shop and applied all over for teaching positions. I got one, but it was in Prince Rupert, far north from the Vancouver home where I grew up. That fall I uprooted and resettled in Prince Rupert. Thus ended one chapter of my life. -------------------------------------------------- Mariah's tale Ahem. Hello. By now you know who I am. You might know me by such titles as "two-timer" and "slut" and "cheating bitch." I am all of those things. I earned those titles fairly. However, I was hoping to regain my original status. I do hope you will be polite and call me Mariah. I am trying to change, after all. Back when I was 24 I was as happy as I would ever be. I was almost finished school and at the top of my class. I was living with the closest thing to perfect that any man could ever hope to get. He was sweet and caring and gorgeous and I loved him to death. Still do. I had only one problem. Well, not really a problem, but it lead to one. You see I had only ever been with John. For 8 years he had been my partner and lover and best friend. I had never dated any other guys. I was becoming restless and I had found myself wondering about what other guys would be like. John was far superior to the rest, of course. He was motivated and smart and had these gorgeous blue eyes with long, long lashes that shone like they had a flame inside them, especially when he looked at me! I loved those eyes. He was tall and slim and had short blonde hair and I was so attracted to him. But there were so many other men out there and some of them were attractive too. So, I ended up allowing myself to get picked up by one of the guys at school. I told myself it would just be a one-time thing. I would get it out of my system and that would be that. I would have this one fling, then go back to John and be the totally devoted woman for him, never mentioning my one indiscretion. His one time would make our relationship stronger, I told myself. Then I had a second fling. No problem. As long as John didn't find out everything would be okay. I felt guilty, but that was the price I would pay for my indiscretions and I would pay it to keep John. Soon I was having the passionate company of other men, sometimes as often as twice a week. I don't remember when I decided that I would keep doing this, but it happened and a parade of men went between my legs. Don't get me wrong, I loved John and I would never want to hurt him. To hurt him would hurt me. I wanted the best of both worlds, though. I wanted to have the wonderful, loving and caring man john was. He was my heart and he was supporting me both emotionally and financially while I went through school. I also wanted the wild, risky thrill of these illicit rendezvous. These little affairs had an edge to them and were terribly exciting. So, when John came home early that day and caught me just after I had finished my first ever threesome and lying between the two men on our bed I panicked. John has this endearing way of trying to look calm and unfazed when he's hurt. He had that look on his face when he caught me. I couldn't bear to see that look, especially knowing that I had caused it. He dismissed himself, saying he would be back in an hour. I sent the two guys who had been such a pleasant diversion packing and stripped the bed. I put the bedding into the laundry and then took a shower. In the shower I broke down. I cried my eyes out as I imagined scenario after scenario of John's return, each one progressively worse. He was gone for an hour and forty-four minutes. The bastard! I had started to think that maybe he had jumped in front of a bus or off the Oak Street Bridge or something! When he finally came in the door I was a wreck. I was relieved that he came back and terrified of what he would do. John stood there and played me like a fiddle. I had plotted out all the things I wanted to say. I was brilliant and was going to soothe his worries and make him forgive me, but with a single pain-filled gaze he reduced me to the level of a 10-year-old girl who had gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I made my proposal and he brushed it aside. He packed up his things and he left me! Just like that 8 years of a great relationship were over. Though we were only common law, the man I had considered my husband had walked out of my life. The second worst part was that I had hurt him so badly. The worst part was that he was gone. For the next few weeks it was hard to believe. I would go home, expecting him to be there and my heart would break all over again when he wasn't. I called his parents' house, begging for them to get him to call me, but got no sympathy from them. His mother was especially vicious, but I deserved it when she blasted me for what I had done to him. His father simply said John did not want to speak to me. When John answered the phone he would hang up. To distract myself from the pain of my loss I threw myself into the two other things in my life: school (and later work) and men! I graduated from university and had many offers from top institutions for my services. I took the best one and soon was rising the corporate ladder. I advanced quickly and after four years I was the head of my division, the youngest and first woman to ever do so in that company. Through those four years I vamped it up and went through men like they were candy. Mostly one night stands and flings. I dated a couple, but never longer than four months and never exclusively. I also made sure they were never connected to my work place in any way. I would not risk my job over some faceless guy whom I was only interested in to distract my mind from my loss. I had begun to find the meaningless sex and empty pleasure less and less satisfying. I was longing for the days and nights I had spent with John. My work got more of my attention, men less of it. After 3 more months I was effectively celibate. My bed felt empty and I was lonely, but having anyone in it with me made my skin crawl. More and more I was wishing John were there. I wanted to settle down and be a wife...his wife. I would have done and given anything to have him back, but he was gone. He wasn't even in Vancouver any more. I was lost, not knowing what to do until an opportunity came around. I am a businesswoman. When I see an opportunity I grab it by the neck and make it mine! My company, like every other large for-profit institution, makes charitable donations as a tax write off. One of the applicants for a donation was a prestigious private school and it was my job as head of the financial department to decide where donations went. I remembered that John had sent an application for a job at this school. He hadn't expected to get it and indeed he did not, but he said it couldn't hurt him for the school to have his resume on file. I politely informed the principal of the school, off the record, that I knew a certain teacher who's acceptance to a teaching position within the school would guarantee a large donation. He responded that there was indeed a position open for a young and talented teacher and did I have any recommendations? I told him of one he probably had on file. He replied that indeed he was on file and that an offer would be couriered to him immediately. I smiled, hoping that John would accept the offer and move back to Vancouver. I was happy about my little play. Even if I never heard from him again I had done something for him and made a small step towards amends. He would probably move back into his parents' house for a bit, knowing him, so I could find him if I wanted. The beginnings of a plan formed in my mind... -------------------------------------------------- John's tale I had built somewhat of a life in Prince Rupert. I had a decent job teaching grade 5 at a local school, a one bedroom apartment I was able to afford to rent and occasionally supplemented my income with a hairdressing commission to keep my skills up. I had discovered that there were a lot of single mothers that had children in my school. I also discovered that an unmarried man was considered more valuable than gold to them. I ended up with many invitations to the homes of my students for a home cooked meal prepared by their mothers. On occasion I accepted one. I was careful and wary, though. Once bitten, twice shy you know. I made a couple of friends with benefits this way, so when the occasional urge hit me I could scratch it. I didn't really date anyone though. In fact, I made it pretty clear that I was not on the market. I was there to do my job and teach their children, not become a slut like my ex had. I taught my class, socialized a little and generally coasted along. I got a surprise in the mail one day. Several years ago I had applied for a teaching position in a prestigious school in Vancouver. I didn't get the job and had not expected to. I just wanted my name in their files. Imagine my surprise when I opened my mail and discovered a job offer at this elite school. The job would include a larger salary than I currently made and significantly so. The down side was it was in Vancouver. Moving sucks. Still, I would be an idiot to turn down this offer, so at the end of the year I uprooted again, said my goodbyes to my acquaintances (and especially my two friends with benefits) and was off to my parents' house in Vancouver. My mom and dad were overjoyed to have me back in town and offered to let me stay with them before I could ask. We had always been close and they were very proud that I had earned this job. I had the summer off, but in late August I had to go in for an orientation at the school. That was fine with me. Dad let me work in his shop again and I started hunting for a new apartment in which to live. My mom and dad lived reasonably close to Stanley Park. I loved that place, so I spent some time there, wandering through the trails or along the seawall. On one of these little walks I bumped into Mariah. Well, wasn't this awkward! She was roller blading toward me as I walked along the seawall and she spotted me before I did her. "John," she called before I could escape gracefully? I cringed at the sound of her voice and the effect it had on me. When I looked at her old feelings rushed through me. I squashed them down under a heavy boot. This woman had betrayed me and I was no longer in love with her. "John! It's so good to see you again." She skated right up to me and hugged me before I could blink. I was forced to hug her back. Forced, I tell you and I'm sticking to that story. Her body, more gorgeous than ever, felt good and natural against mine and I had to consciously keep myself from kissing her. Damn this vixen for having this effect on me! "Hello Mariah," I replied. I don't think my voice was as icy as I'd tried to make it. Probably because it cracked. She was NOT reducing me to a nervous schoolboy! "So, when did you get back to Vancouver?" "A few days ago." "Are you in town long?" Was she fishing for something? I should just lie and say no, but it was against my nature to be deceitful. "For a while." Around this time I noticed her smell. That mix of shampoo and perspiration I had gotten so used to all that time ago made memories flash through my head. I also noticed she was wearing the earrings I had given her for our 7th anniversary. Why had she kept those? I had divested myself of such items of sentimentality when I moved. Memories can be a painful thing. "Well, it's good to see you again. Are you busy right now?" "No." I knew it was a mistake the moment I said it. "Well, interested in joining me for a cup of coffee?" Oh, good, a reason to say no. "You know I never liked coffee." "Right. You can have hot chocolate." Ave I mentioned that I'm a chocoholic yet? I've never met a chocolate I didn't like. Damn her for knowing me so well! Just like that I was back in her web! Against my better judgment I found myself accepting her invitation and off we went to a coffee shop. We ordered and sat down, me with my hot chocolate, her with her extra caffeinated, sugar loaded energy booster coffee. "So, how have you been," she asked? "All right I guess." I was still wary of her, but sitting with her had an old comfortable feeling that snuck in through the awkwardness. She smiled at me endearingly and asked, "What brings you back home?" "Actually I got a job offer." I thought I saw a slight, subtle change in her expression when I said that. I couldn't put my finger on it or what it meant, but it was there. "Really? Do tell." I started telling her about the application I had made long ago and how out of nowhere I was sent a job offer. I could swear I saw her grin widen in that knowing way she had. It was a little unnerving. After I finished she congratulated me, then changed the topic. "You know, John, I never did get the chance to tell you how sorry I am for all that happened and how I hurt you."