0 comments/  152020 views/  3 favorites

Glory Days Ch. 01

By: Lyndon



This is my senior year in High School. I'm a bigshot now. All the underclassman watch as I bask in the glory of authority. On top of my new found power I had been working out all summer and finally had a body I could be proud of. At a short 5'8 I was built without an ounce of fat on me. My abs were well defined and my medium length blonde hair outlined my bright green eyes nicely. 

As I walked the halls before my first class I knew things would be good this year while I saw the younger girls checking me out. They couldn't keep their eyes off of me finally I was living the good life. 

First period had a few of my friends in it who all had compliments for me on my new look. 

"Hey Shawn" I heard from behind me "you must have really done alot of work this summer, your looking good." I turned around to see Sara standing behind me. She was about 5'2, probably well less than 100lbs, blonde hair, blue eyes, small perky boobs, and a tight gymnast's body.

"Uh yeah, thanks" I finally stammered out, amazed this beauty even knew I existed. 

"I'll see you around" She said with a smile as she went to go sit with her friends. Now these are some girls that we have to take notice of, important to the story or not. There was Laura, 5'7, no more than 115lbs, light brown hair and eyes to match, darkly tanned skin, average b-cup chest which stood out nicely over her flat stomach. capped off with beautifully toned legs from years of soccer. Jess, also on the soccer team, 5'4, 110lbs, dark brown hair that 

contrasted her light skin nicely, she had dark brown eyes, and an attractive freckled face. Her chest was an overflowing a-cup, the rest of her body was tight from all the running except her ass was not totally toned and moved nicely while she walked to her seat. Last but certainly not least was Janine she had light brown hair and eyes accentuating a picture perfect face. She naturally had olive skin and at 5'8 only weighed 120, her chest was a large c-cup and most of her shirts showed a nice amount of cleavage. Despite not being and athlete herself, her body was well toned and everything seemed to be as fit as possible from her shapely hips down her smooth long legs. She even had a surprisingly small ass for a girl her height. 

Anyway, once 1st period had ended I found myself behind these four goddesses in the hall watching their wonderful asses proceed to class. This would definitely be a stellar year. The next few weeks went on as usual aside from a few sparked conversations with Sara which gave me hope of a heaven and faith in a worthwhile year. But on one particularly nauseating school day I asked my teacher to allow me a pass to the nurse and laid down on one of Nurse Smith's little beds in the back of her office to get some rest. Who cares if a miss a day of History, it's not changing. The curtain was closed around my bed and I was just dozing off when I heard Sara's voice in the office.

"Miss Smith, I got hit in the h....hip with the hockey b....ball and it hurts soo m....much" she got out between sobs. God she sounded even more attractive when she cried. Nurse Smith told her to sit and rest it for a while. She would be going to lunch and Sara didn't have to return to class until she came back. Apparently I was forgotten in my dreamstate and Nurse Smith left us. I could hear Sara crying on the other side of the curtain and decided not to embarrass her by making my presence known.

When the crying stopped for a few minutes I assumed Sara had headed out to class or something so I looked out to see if I was alone to catch some more Z's. To my amazement there was Sara standing in front of the full length mirror on the back of the door to the office with her pants and panties pulled down so her ass was exposed to my virgin eyes. My cock grew immediately after seeing that tight little ass and it took all my will power not to jump her. Once I calmed down I realized this unfortunately wasn't a show for me but she was examining the damage done to her hip by the ball. It looked just to be a bruise but I wasn't paying much attention to anything except that hot ass moving slightly as she touched her hip and recoiled from the pain. God how I wish I had a camera with me, this was something I wished I could see again forever and ever.

I laid back on the bed and smiled to myself, I took in a deep breath and just as i was about to draw back the curtain for a second viewing I inhaled a bit of dust on the bed and coughed. The next sound i heard was Sara's zipper quickly being pulled shut and that fine ass hitting her seat. I already blew my cover I might as well say hi now. Pulling back the curtain I said hello to Sara and she returned a tear filled greeting. "What's the matter?" I asked hoping she thought I was asleep earlier.

"I got hit in hockey" she replied as a tear ran down her cheek.

"I'm so sorry, want me to kiss it and make it better?" She giggled and smiled a little as I moved in closer. I eased the side of her pants down careful not to expose her, and examined her injured hip. "You should be ok in a few days" and I kissed her forehead.

"That's not where I'm hurt" she said referring to the placement of my kiss. 

"Well then I'll have to fix that" I said and leaned over to place a light kiss on her bruised hip." Mmmm a wish come true" I got up and looked her in the eyes and saw passion. 

"What do you have for me to kiss now." and she grabbed my still hard cock through my sweatpants and squeezed it gently. I couldn't believe it this was a wish come true but I couldn't hesitate, I pulled my pants down leaving my cock struggling against my boxers for freedom. She fell to her knees and engulfed my dick with her sweet little mouth. She could only get about 3/4 of my 7 inch rod inside but it was ecstasy anyway. She moved her mouth back and forth over my dick sliding her tongue along the bottom and rolling it around my head. Sara sucked harder and harder on my cock until I felt my knees start to give, I tried to warn her that I was about to cum but she waved my hand away. Then I started cumming, she didn't miss a beat she just kept sucking and started swallowing it down. Sara kept my flaccid dick in her mouth until she had licked all of my cum out me then she released me and stood up as I pulled my pants back over my now limp penis. 

"That was amazing." was all I got out when Nurse Smith opened the door and hurriedly sent me back to class saying it her her fault for forgetting me and told Sara she could stay and lay down if her hip was still aching. 

All the way back to class I kept saying to myself, this was definitely going to be a good year. 

Glory Days Ch. 01



Introduction: This story is based on Bruce Springsteen's classic song "Glory Days," which has to do with memories, immaturity and aging. In the song, the narrator talks about, "boring stories of glory days," in a hardscrabble Rust Belt town. 

As I've listened to the song over the years, I've started seeing interesting possibilities for a very nice erotic story with an important message. The plot loosely follows the song through the first two stanzas, the first two chapters, then makes its own way to the conclusion.

Chapter 1

Braxton Rogers sighed as he maneuvered his car through traffic on the interstate. He had just crested the last hill before the highway descended into Palestine, and he could see the town spread out before him.

As was the case with anyone who approached the town from the west, as he was that day, the first thing he saw was the Palestine Steel Works, the massive plant that dominated the skyline of the town from every direction. 

It sat up high, like a king's castle, on the banks of the river that snaked through town, hovering over the buildings that made up the nearby downtown business district. 

The huge smokestack still blew the detritus of steel manufacturing into the warm summer sky, lending a yellow haze to the sun that was dipping into the western horizon.

Braxton couldn't believe he was coming back here to live, but that was the fate that had been thrown his way. 

There really hadn't been any choice. His mother had passed away eight months earlier, quite suddenly, and somebody had to take care of his father. Bruce Rogers had worked at the steel plant for 35 years, and he had developed lung problems, which left him an invalid.

Bruce was still of fairly sound mind, but physically, he could no longer keep up the house where he and his wife had raised their three children. With Mary gone and himself unable to get around very well, Bruce was considering selling the house and moving into an assisted-living facility.

If that happened, someone had to come home to take care of the business of selling the house, making sure the legal niceties were handled and keep an eye on Bruce. 

Braxton hadn't liked it, but he was the logical choice to move back and help with his dad. His older brother lived in Philadelphia with his family, where he had his business, and his little sister lived in California, with her family.

At age 35, Braxton was still single, working as an insurance adjuster for a major company, so it was fairly easy for him to get a transfer from Nashville, where he'd been living, to Palestine. 

It wasn't that he averse to a move from Nashville; far from it. He'd just broken up with his most recent girlfriend, and it had been a rather hostile split. So he didn't mind putting Nashville behind him. But Palestine was about the last place he wanted to live.

He had left town at age 18 after accepting a football scholarship to a small school in Kentucky. He'd played four years there while majoring in business, then had gone to work for the insurance company. He was good at his work, but his personal life hadn't been as successful as his professional life.

Braxton had had plenty of relationships, but none of them had been "the one." Early on, his girlfriends had accused him of having a commitment problem; later, they were the ones who had the difficulty committing to a deeper relationship.

So, he was coming back to make a fresh start, but he wasn't exactly excited about the prospects of making Palestine his home again.

Certainly, he had been back to visit many times, but he rarely stayed long. The place had always slightly depressed him. It was a hard town, a workingman's town, a town that had seen better days.

It was in the heart of the Rust Belt, and in its prime it had been one of most prosperous in the state, with a population of approximately 90,000. Now that number was down to about 50,000, and opportunity for those not interested in going to work at the steel mill was pretty limited.

Finally, Braxton came to the exit off the interstate and headed south on Main Street. The first thing he saw on his left was the old train station, which still did a surprisingly brisk business, largely because Palestine was on the main Amtrak line between New York and Chicago.

Further down the street, he passed St. James Prep, the Catholic high school he'd attended, which was the feeder for St. James College, a Jesuit school that had been founded by steel money, but which had developed a reputation as a fine Catholic college with a good small-college athletic program. 

Braxton turned left at the high school onto Capitol Street, then turned right a couple of blocks later and wound his way through the side streets to Five Points.

In spite of himself, Braxton found himself smiling as he reached the place where five streets came together at one intersection. He was back in the old neighborhood, for better of worse, and his feelings were decidedly mixed.

He took a left, then an immediate left again, onto St. Patrick Avenue, went three blocks to Chestnut Street, took a right and traveled two blocks to 607 Chestnut. He pulled into the driveway of the old house, just as the sun was disappearing for the night.

Braxton greeted his father warmly, and they talked far into the night over a 12-pack of Rolling Rock, which had been the favored beer in Palestine long before it went national and became trendy.

They discussed a wide range of subjects, including whether or not Bruce should move. They didn't come to any decision, but as they polished off the last of the beer, they seemed to be leaning toward Bruce's staying in the house with Braxton.

The next day, Sunday, father and son made it to Mass, even though they were both a little hung over. It was the first time Bruce had been to church in several months, but he wanted to let all of his friends know that his boy was home, this time for good, he hoped.

Braxton's brother, Lenny, and his sister, Julie, had taken after their mother. Mary had always been a little frail and slight of stature, and she'd passed that on to her oldest and youngest child. She'd been a teacher, and very smart, and they had also inherited her brains and her sense of achievement in the classroom.

Braxton, on the other hand, had been his father's child, all the way. He was bigger, though not that much bigger, but certainly more athletic than either of his siblings, and the only one of the two boys who went hunting with their father, back when he'd been healthy enough to do so. 

Bruce loved all three of his children, and he was proud of how Lenny had made his way in the big city, but he and Braxton shared a closeness that was special. They were a lot alike, with many shared interests.

On Monday, Braxton started his new job, and within a couple of weeks it was like he'd never left.

He'd been back three full weeks, and he'd been lying low. Although he had re-assimilated himself with the town, he hadn't run into many of his old school friends. When you're away from you old hometown, old friends move on and new blood moves in.

Still, he'd have thought he'd see more people he knew. That changed on a Friday night, three weeks after he'd moved back. 

He had decided to hit a few bars and see what kind of action there was to be had. He'd spent a busy three weeks working around the house fixing up things that his father had been unable to do.

They had talked again about whether Bruce should stay or go, and they had decided that he would stay, at least for the time being. The old house had been the man's home for over 30 years, and while there were the bittersweet memories of Mary, it was where he was most comfortable.

And with Braxton there, the house could be maintained better. Still, Braxton had been busy arranging for a home health nurse to come see to his father every day. He had also been traveling a lot, getting re-familiarized with his new territory.

All in all, he needed a night out to unwind from the stress, so he decided to go Across the River. That was what everyone called the long row of bars, night clubs and strip joints that lined the main highway on the west side of town, just on the other side of the river from St. James College.

He was headed into one of his old haunts, the Roadside Tavern, when he finally ran into an old friend who was just walking out. Chris Mooney knew immediately who it was.

"Braxton Rogers, in the flesh, long time, no see," Chris said.

"Good to see you, Mooney," Braxton said. "How's it goin'?"

"Good, brother, real good" Chris replied.

That had been their old greeting whenever they got together, and they hadn't forgotten. They walked back in and Chris yelled to the throng inside, "this here's hardest-hitting son of a bitch you ever saw."

Then they sat at the bar and had a beer or three, while some old friends and acquaintances came by to greet Braxton.

Chris and Braxton had known each other since they were babies. They had grown up in the same neighborhood, had played Little League baseball and Pop Warner football together right up until high school. Then they had battled each other for four years as rivals, since Chris had gone to Palestine High, while Braxton attended Prep.

Chris Mooney had started at quarterback his last three seasons at PHS, and led the Panthers to the state championship his junior season, but his best sport was baseball. A big right-hander with a blazing fastball, a tricky curve and a wicked slider, he'd made hitters -- including Braxton -- look foolish throughout high school.

But Braxton had gotten his licks in on the football field. A hard-hitting, ball-hawking safety, he had leveled Chris on several red-dog blitzes in the three games they played against each other. In fact, Braxton's most cherished athletic moment in high school had been his last game for St. James Prep against his old friend. 

PHS was a big-time football power, competing in the largest enrollment classification in the state. St. James competed one class down from the Panthers, and while they had had winning seasons, they hadn't won like Palestine won.

In fact, the Jimmies hadn't beaten the Panthers in six years when they faced off at the big old WPA stadium just off the college campus, where both teams played their home games.

That year, the Panthers were going to the playoffs, as usual, while Prep was just fighting to finish with a winning season. But the Jimmies played inspired football that cold Saturday afternoon and had upset Palestine 23-21. And it was Braxton's pass interception with 30 seconds left in the game that sealed the victory. 

Everyone said that if Braxton had been four inches taller and 30 pounds heavier, he'd have made it to the NFL, because of his speed, brains, toughness and all-around athletic ability. But he'd had no regrets. He started all four years at his college and got a quality education, which laid the groundwork for a successful career. 

Chris had gone on to sign a pro baseball contract with Detroit, and had moved easily through their farm system. After three years in the minors, Chris had gotten a September call-up and had been brilliant. He'd started four games, won three of them and got a no-decision in the other, and finished with an ERA of 1.85.

He was one of the team's bright stars of the future, but the next spring, at training camp, he'd developed a sore arm, probably from pitching through the winter in Puerto Rico. He battled arm problems another six years in a bewildering array of minor-league venues before hanging up his cleats at age 29.

Over several Rocks, Chris and Braxton talked about the old times, the glory days when they were young and had the world at their feet.

Finally, the subject turned to their respective love lives, and they commiserated over relationships past and present, which, for both men, weren't happening at the moment.

It was Chris who brought the conversation around to getting laid.

"So how long's it been since you got your dick wet, bro?" Chris asked.

"Too long," Braxton said. "Not since I broke up with my last girlfriend down in Nashville. Why? You got someone in mind?"

"Well, yeah, I do as a matter of fact," Chris said, looking like the cat that ate the canary. "I know this freaky little college chick. I've fucked her a few times and it's primo. I'll give her a call, see if she wants to party a little with a couple of Palestine's legends."

"You always were full of shit," Braxton laughed.

But Chris pulled out his cell phone, made the call, and, he was all smiles when he flipped the phone shut.

"She said to come on over," Chris said.

Braxton wasn't too sure what he was getting into, but he recalled some of the exploits they'd gotten into in their high school days, some of the parties that had evolved into Romaneque orgies, and that was one aspect of nostalgia he was happy to relive, even if it was just one night.

Lola Williamson lived on Riverside Avenue in a little rental house across the street from the Palestine High campus. To get there, they had to drive back across the river, onto the college campus to Riverside, which was the main drag in that part of town. 

Lola was 20, and going to summer school at the college. She was a little thing, maybe 5-1 and 110 pounds at the most, but she was very pretty, with mysterious brown eyes and shortish hair of some color resembling magenta. She had a compact little body; with small tits, but a firm ass.

Chris introduced Lola to Braxton, and she gave him an enigmatic smile. She was dressed in a tight tank top and shorts, and Braxton could feel his groin tightening as he saw her nipples showing nicely through her shirt.

"You guys wanna get high?" she said as she pulled out a tray with some weed and a bong pipe.

Chris was eager -- too eager, Braxton thought -- and he took the proffered bong, fired it up, took a big hit and passed it Braxton. It had been a long, long time since he'd smoked pot, but he was just drunk enough to shrug his shoulders and take the pipe.

The weed Lola had was good, very good, and Braxton felt it attacking his lungs with a vengeance. He managed to hold enough of it in to get the full effect before he convulsed in a coughing fit. Lola smiled wickedly as she took the pipe and took her own hit. 

Quickly, the trio had a fine buzz going, then Lola put her stuff away and stood in front of Braxton and Chris.

"I know you guys didn't just come over here to smoke a little weed, now, did you?" she purred as she pulled her tank top over her head and lowered her shorts to the floor. "I know Chris too well, and if you're his buddy, then you're probably just as much of a horndog as he is."

She was staring into Braxton's eyes as she slowly knelt on the floor in front of where they were sitting on the old sofa. Braxton was mesmerized by her brazenness and by her body, especially the completely clean-shaved pussy between her legs. 

It was warm in the house and Lola's body was already covered with an oily sheen that suggested that either she was hot to trot or she'd been out doing some nude sunbathing.

"It's your lucky day, Braxton," Lola continued as she reached up and opened Braxton's jeans and pulled them off his butt. "I've done a lot of kinky stuff, but I've never done a threesome with two guys. Me and another girl? Yeah, I've done that. But two guys? Ummmm, the possibilities."

"Didn't I tell you she was freaky?" Chris said as he watched Lola vacuum Braxton's cock into her hot little mouth.

Braxton just nodded his head as he wallowed in the sensation of a first-rate blowjob. He pulled off his T-shirt and sat back naked as Lola worked his cock back and forth in her mouth. 

After a minute or two, she pulled away, but kept her fist wrapped around the base while she turned her attention to Chris, who had already shucked his clothes and was holding his fat cock in his hand, almost as an offering.

"Your friend's got a nice cock," Lola said just before she swooped onto Chris' dick and sucked the head and about half of his cock into her mouth. 

Braxton got off the sofa and knelt behind Lola. He swiped his fingers over her bald mound and slid them into her tight, juicy cunt. Lola hissed through her nose as she worked her cock-filled mouth up and down, while Chris leaned back savoring the feeling. Braxton finger-fucked Lola with two fingers, while using his thumb on her swollen clit.

Lola was ready. She pulled her mouth off Chris' cock, looked back at Braxton and told him she wanted him in her.

Instead of just plowing his way in, though, Braxton pulled Lola off the sofa slightly and flipped her easily onto her back.

"I like to look into a woman's eyes when I fuck her," he said simply.

Lola just nodded and spread legs open, exposing an angry-looking hot pink gash that was shining with the dew of her arousal. Braxton brought the head of his cock up to the opening to her pussy, ran the head between her prominent labia several times then slowly pushed his way in.

"Ummmmmmmm," Lola cooed as she felt her hot little box being filled with Braxton's cock.

Braxton took it slow, because Lola had just about the tightest, hottest pussy he'd ever had the pleasure of fucking. He wasn't sure he could get all of his cock in her, and wondered how on earth she'd ever take all of Chris' significantly fatter dick.

Obviously, she could, however, because he'd already fucked her before. As he got up to a nice steady rhythm, Braxton had the idle thought that perhaps he should have asked about condoms, but it was too late for that.

Chris watched as his friend fucked Lola with a slow, steady pace, and he decided it was time to rejoin the party. He got up on his knees on the sofa, pulled Lola's head toward him and pressed his cock to her lips. 

Lola eagerly sucked the head and a good portion of the shaft into her mouth and worked him, using her tongue to maximize his pleasure. She was in cock heaven, with two nice, hard cocks filling her mouth and her pussy, and she was shimmying on the sofa as Braxton fucked her with ever harder strokes.

Braxton could feel his control slipping, as he picked up the pace, and he could tell that Lola was getting close to a climax, from the muffled squeals she was making as she frantically sucked Chris' cock.

It was time, and Braxton was ready to let go a huge load of cum, Just about the time Lola pulled Chris' cock from her mouth and cried out in her orgasm, Braxton felt the white heat of his own climax rush through his dick. Gasping, he filled Lola's clenching cunt with a succession of boiling-hot cumshots, squeezing out little bursts of semen until he was momentarily sated.

As his spent cock slid out of Lola's dilated pussy, he got a rush as he saw his silvery sperm ooze from the hole. The sight of Lola lying back, with her body gleaming with the sweat of her exertions and her fat nipples capping her slight mounds was etched on his memory.

But he didn't have much time to contemplate the matter. Lola was caught up in a true fuck frenzy and she wanted more, much more. Panting, she maneuvered Braxton onto the sofa, swiveled around so that she was on her knees, arched her back and invited Chris to come on and fuck her hard.

Chris didn't hesitate. It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed fucking a slut's sloppy seconds, and he didn't mess around. He put one hand on Lola's hip, grasped his cock firmly in the other and slid his cock into her gooey hole.

Lola gasped hard when she felt Chris' long fat cock scudding up her cunt. Looking up, she saw Braxton staring, and with a wicked grin, she grabbed his cock and began to lick it all over, savoring the taste of their commingled juices.

When she had him reasonably clean, she dove onto his already semi-hard dick and began to work at getting him back up again. There was a bit of dementia in her eyes as Braxton felt his cock responding. The whole scene -- the buzz from the weed and the wanton slut they were using -- was blowing his mind, and it didn't take much to get him hard as nails again.




Glory Days Ch. 01



Chris was getting mighty close as he plowed Lola's hot pussy with reckless abandon. But he held off because he had a feeling he knew what was coming. Sure enough, Lola pulled her mouth away from Braxton's cock, slid her body away from Chris and looked at them intensely.

"I wanna do something I've only read about or seen in pictures," she hissed. "I wanna a DP."

Braxton felt his cock give a lurch when he heard this diminutive girl asking for a cock in her pussy and one in her ass. He'd done anal before a few times, but this was a first for him. He just freed his mind of anything other than sensate pleasure.

Before continuing, Chris grabbed the bong, filled it up again and passed it around to replenish their buzz. When they were done, Lola didn't waste any time. She was sitting on a powder keg of lust, and she was ready to have one of her fantasies fulfilled. 

She left Braxton where he was and climbed on the sofa, so she was straddling his hips, facing away from him. She got up so she was squatting over him then eased the head of his cock to her small puckered opening and slowly lowered herself. Her anus was already decently lubricated from the cum that had trickled down from her pussy, and she used that to ease his passage.

Suddenly, the head of Braxton's cock penetrated her sphincter and she howled in that weird combination of pain and pleasure that always accompanied the initial thrust of a cock into her ass.

Slowly, but steadily, Lola let herself be impaled on his hot, throbbing cock, until she felt his pubic hairs tickling her buttocks. She worked her hips up slightly, then reached between her legs and opened her drooling pussy.

"Fuck me, Chris," she panted. "Make me a Lola sandwich. Do it hard!"

Chris needed no further invitation. The sight of Braxton's cock embedded in Lola's ass had made him harder than he'd been in quite awhile. He put his cock to Lola's cunt and rammed it in hard, balls deep.

That did it for Lola. Her sweat-slick body exploded in a righteous orgasm that had her whole body feeling like she was being turned inside out. She gasped and grunted as she felt fuller than she'd ever felt before, with two big cocks skewering her horny holes.

Chris and Braxton couldn't believe the sensation of Lola's hot holes wrapped around their cocks. They could each feel the other's cock as it filled the hole it occupied. They were in a rhythm, sometimes filling her full at the same time, sometimes alternating, so that at least one hole was filled all the time.

The trio filled the room with the sounds of hardcore fucking, sounds that undoubtedly filtered out the open window to the street outside. But they were all oblivious to anything except the friction of Lola's body around their cocks.

Lola felt her orgasms morphing together into one long screaming climax, her body on overload, her mind a smoking shell.

Chris still hadn't come yet, and he was the first to let go. With a strangled cry, he thrust forward hard and shot a seemingly-endless barrage of steaming hot cumshots deep in Lola's already-full pussy.

Braxton felt like he could probably go a little longer, but why should he, he thought. Grabbing Lola's hips, he worked her butt up and down hard on his throbbing dick, and soon his second hard load ripped from his scrotum, through his shaft and out the end of his cock to baste Lola's rectum in his slimy cream.

Lola was shaking as she slumped back on Braxton's chest. Chris sat back on his own shaky legs, his limp dick flopping out wetly from her well-stretched pussy, and he marveled at the river of cum that flowed out of her pussy, and her well-cored ass.

He probably could have stayed around for more, but Braxton was already up and looking for his clothes, an indication that he was ready to leave. So after a few minutes, they left, leaving Lola slumped back on her sofa in sweat-drenched, cum-soaked reverie.

Later, she would feel a sense of melancholy sweep over her at the way she'd been used, but at that moment she was still grooving on the best sex she'd ever had up to that point in her young life.

Braxton lay awake that night, listening to the house creak and groan. He was thinking some disturbing thoughts about the night's activities. Sure, he'd had a sexual experience like nothing he'd had before, but now that the euphoria was gone, there were a lot of things about it that left him unsettled.

For one thing, there was the casual way Chris had accepted the bong, and the nonchalance of Lola in bringing it out. It was like she'd assumed they'd get high then fuck. She'd apparently never even entertained the possibility that Braxton might be an undercover cop.

What's more, the way Chris had hit the bong suggested that he was awfully familiar with weed, that he was using on a pretty regular basis. Braxton had never been very big on weed at any point in his life. He'd done a fair share of it in high school and college, but it hadn't been a habit and it hadn't followed him into his professional life.

And that raised another issue. He'd only been in his new position three weeks, so there was always the possibility that he could be asked to take a drug screen at any time. He didn't think it likely, since he'd been with the company for 12 years, but you never knew in those situations.

Another thing that disturbed him was the fact that he and Chris both had fucked Lola without the first thought of protection. Oh, the thought had passed Braxton's mind, but only after he was buried deep in Lola's cunt.

It was pretty apparent that she was easy, so there was no telling who she'd fucked in recent weeks. He knew that it only took one time for a person to become infected with an STD. No question, a visit to the doctor for a blood test would be in order, pronto.

Finally, the whole nature of the evening felt cheap, now that he was sober and thinking rationally. They'd basically invited themselves to this kid's little house -- and, really, she wasn't much more than a kid -- smoked her weed, used her body like some street whore, then left her lying naked on her sofa with their cum rolling out of her well-fucked body.

Braxton knew he was better than what he'd showed earlier that night. Once he'd grown up, once he'd gotten a chance to experience love and sex as an adult, he'd come to have a different perspective than when he'd been a horny teenager.

Yet here was his friend Chris Mooney still out smoking dope and fucking women nearly half his age. He'd squandered most of the money he'd made playing baseball, he was living in an apartment and he was working for a car dealership, trading off his name to sell cars.

Braxton realized that Chris was still stuck in the past, stuck in his glory days, when he'd been the hotshot pitcher with the million-dollar arm. He had no future, and Braxton realized that as much as it pained him to let an old friend drift away, it had to be done. Chris Mooney was trouble, and Braxton wanted no more of him. 

It was with that thought that he rolled over and went to sleep.

(To be continued)



Glory Days Ch. 02



After that first experience with Sara I was blown away.I couldn't beleive it actually happened, I was just an average guy and she was Sara, The Sara. 

The next day she was wearing a bright pink tank-top with a black skirt that only made it halfway down her thighs. I couldn't concentrate all through class, all I could do was stare at those smooth white legs and image how they must feel. It was torture sitting there for an hour only a few feet away from her yet not able to do anything about it. Then as class ended she bent over to get her books, and hoping to catch a glimpse of her panties I was amazed to see the bottom of her ass peek out from below her skirt, she wasn't wearing any underwear!

I went up behind her in the hall and tapped her on the shoulder. Then suddenly I realized I had no idea what to say, I felt my face lose all it's color then get it replenished ten fold in red.

"Yes Shawn?" She innocently asked. My god she looked so young and pure, maybe it didn't happen, maybe I dreamt it all, this girl would never want me.

"I uhhh....so....its been...yeah." Wonderful my intelligence had reigned supreme yet again and I was composing beautiful prose right here in the halls. 

"Do you need another day to recover or something? I didn't think my blowjobs were that good."

Thank you lord, it happened.

"No, I was just, you caught me by surprise" Perhaps some hope for my stupidity? "But you came up to me." Damn her for paying attention.

"Well I'll see you later" And off I went down the halls. I suppose that could have gone worse, I mean cut and pasted properly and that could even resemble a conversation, yeah I was making progress. 

At the end of the day I headed straight for my car, I didn't need another enlightening conversation with Sara. But from a good 50 yards away I could tell it was her leaning on my driver side door. This was good though I had a whole 50 yards to think of something witty to say when I got there. 

"What's up? Do you need a ride or something?" I was full of romantic sayings like that one but decided only to use one for the time being. 

"Like you wouldn't believe." Sara answered staring deep into my eyes. She opened the door to my car and got in, so I got into the passenger side. It make sense at the time. 

Once we were both in the car Sara immediatly began to unzip my jeans, which made my cock grow quickly. She reached her tiny hand inside and squeezed my hard dick with her soft fingers. She slide those silky fingers up and down the shaft of my dick and squeezed gently as she came to the head. Then I went for it and slid the hand up her thigh and onto her uncovered pussy, it was warm to the touch and that made me so excited that my dick jumped a little in her hand. When it did she just gripped it tighter, those tiny soft fingers sent a chill down my spine as they squeezed my hard cock. I moved my hand along her wet slit and through her soft hair a few times before sliding one finger inside of her warm pussy and gently moving it back and forth. We were both moaning loudly when she let go of my cock and started to move around, i released my now three fingers from inside of her, but she squealed and grabbed my hand and shoved them back inside of her tight hole. She was bouncing up and down on my hand and I was helping by sliding my fingers back and forth as well. I watched Sara's tiny body bounce on my hand and my cock was dying to get more action. After a few minutes of riding my fingers her muscles tensed and she let out a long deep moan as I felt her pussy convulse around my fingers. 

When she came down from her orgasm Sara looked into my eyes, her's looking glazed over now. Then she crawled on top of my hard dick and very slowly dropped her pussy down around me. It was an amazing feeling, being gripped by her warm cunt. It felt so soft and warm I had to restrain myself from thrusting inside. Once she dropped herself completely onto my dick I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tight body into mine. Again she moved herself up and down, this time with my cock trapped inside of her and I nearly cried. Sara's tight pussy slid up and down my hard cock and it felt like nothing ever before, I knew I couldn't hold out much longer. I warned her but she only rode me harder i watched as her tiny body crashed down onto my cock and was ripped off of it again only to repeat the cycle. Each time her pussy hit my cock harder and faster I knew it was coming and i hugged her close and thrust my dick deep inside of her wet hole. I came in long thrusts inside of her and we both lt out a deep breath when it was over. I pulled my softening cock out from inside of her pussy and pushed it back into my jeans and zipped them up, Sara readjusted her skirt so she was covered. "That was a great time baby, we will do it again soon." She said as she opened her door and got out.

During the drive home I daydreamed about the possibility of doing that again and was overjoyed, I couldn't wait for tomorrow. 



Glory Days Ch. 02



Introduction: This story is based on Bruce Springsteen's classic song "Glory Days," which has to do with memories, immaturity and aging. In the song, the narrator talks about, "boring stories of glory days," in a hardscrabble Rust Belt town.

As I've listened to the song over the years, I've started seeing interesting possibilities for a very nice erotic story with an important message. The plot loosely follows the song through the first two stanzas, the first two chapters, then makes its own way to the conclusion. 

In order to understand the second and third chapters, you should first read the opening chapter, as the story picks up immediately without much of a recap.

Chapter 2

A few days after the encounter with Lola, Braxton went to see a doctor -- for a routine check-up, he said -- then spent an anxious few weeks, waiting for the blood test results to come back, and for the little bit of weed he'd smoked to work its way out of his system before he might be called upon to take a drug screen.

Fortunately, the blood test came up negative and he was never required to pee in the cup for his employers. Chris called Braxton a few times inviting him to go out, but Braxton politely declined, and apparently Chris got the message, because he quit calling.

As summer drifted into autumn, Braxton did start to run across some people from school, and he started to make some new friends. He even went out on some casual dates with a couple of women from the office; nothing serious, just getting out in a social setting.

He was starting to become more comfortable with his decision -- his family's decision, really -- to have him move back to Palestine and stay with his father.

Braxton enjoyed being with his dad and doing things for him, even though there were times when the old man got a little cantankerous and occasionally a little forgetful. But he was gratified to see his father brighten up with him there.

Things took an interesting turn one Saturday in late September when Braxton was at the grocery store. He was in the produce section when he heard his name being called in a questioning way. He turned and saw a vision from the past, with three small children hanging around her.

It was Debbie Stewart, nee' Koslowski, an old classmate from St. James Prep. Debbie had been the girl every guy in school wanted to date, but she'd only had eyes for Bobby Stewart. She had sandy blonde hair, blue eyes and a perky little nose, and she had a solid, woman's body, even in high school, with a healthy set of tits and an ass that wouldn't stop.

She was the head cheerleader and the homecoming queen their senior year, and the most popular girl in school, even with the other girls. Oh, they could be envious of her good looks and killer body, but they couldn't dislike her because she was a genuinely nice person with a sunny personality.

As they chatted in the store, Braxton noticed a few things about Debbie. 

One, the few extra pounds she'd put on over the years had done nothing to hurt her figure. They added some heft to her already ample breasts and put some delicious curves on her hips and thighs.

Second, she didn't look quite as radiant as she had in high school. She looked tired, almost sad. Of course, having three kids under the age of 9 might have contributed to some of that, but there was more to it. 

And he realized why, because as they spoke, he noticed her left hand was bare, with no ring. He had to ask.

"So, how's Bobby doing?" Braxton said.

"Haven't laid eyes on him in two years, not since our divorce was final," Debbie said.

"What happened?" Braxton said gently. He could sense that the subject was painful.

"Um, ah, we just drifted apart," she said. "I don't have time or the energy to say any more right now. Come by the house some time and we'll talk."

Turned out, Debbie lived around the corner and three blocks up the street from Braxton, and he got the go-ahead to stop by some night and they'd relive the old times.

A couple of weeks later, he called to see if the offer was still good, and when she said yes, Braxton said he'd stop by around 9 o'clock with a six pack.

Debbie had put her three kids to bed by the time Braxton arrived. He took out a couple of beers and stuck the rest in the refrigerator.

Braxton sat on the chair against the wall while Debbie sat on the sofa. At first, it was just pleasantries, talking about their jobs and their families. 

Debbie worked for a local furniture store as the secretary/receptionist/accountant. It paid OK, the company that owned the store had a good medical insurance package, plus the hours were such that she could work 9 to 5 Monday through Friday and be home at night for her kids.

That segued into the breakup of her marriage. Bobby Stewart had an ability to make money that was the envy of everyone who knew him. He traveled a lot, but it had been worth it because his job enabled her to not work and still live in a nice house in the northeast part of town, where the money was.

Debbie had thought she had the perfect romance -- high school sweetheart, well-to-do husband, stay-at-home mom -- until one day about two and a half years earlier. 

Bobby had gone on another of his business trips and Debbie was unpacking his suitcase after his return, when she came across a pair of panties that weren't hers. The discovery had crystallized a lot of vague suspicions she'd had about her husband, and what he did when he was out of town.

She'd confronted him and he confessed to his affairs. Actually, she said, confessed wasn't quite the right word.

"He basically threw them in my face," Debbie told Braxton, and she couldn't help a tear from rolling down her cheek. "He laughed and told me I was fat and that these other women were better fucks. I was so humiliated, I couldn't see straight."

The divorce had been bitter. Bobby hired a clever lawyer who somehow managed to conceal a lot of Bobby's assets. Debbie had gotten child support and some alimony, but not what she really deserved, and collecting from her ex-husband was a monthly hassle.

She couldn't afford the big house, so she'd rented this smaller one in a working-class neighborhood. It had been quite a come-down for a girl who'd grown up in a fairly affluent home and had had nothing but success her whole life.

Her folks helped out with babysitting her three kids and with some money, but she was a proud woman who had begun to rebuild her life without a lot of help.

Bobby, meanwhile, had gotten a transfer to Boston and was out of her life -- except for the struggles with his support checks.

Somehow, Braxton wasn't surprised. He and Bobby had played football together, and Braxton had never really liked him. It hadn't been an active dislike, just a sense of mistrust.

Of course, part of it was that he'd had the hots for Debbie, and he suspected that perhaps the feeling was mutual, to some degree. But they'd steered clear of each other in a romantic way during their high school days, because she really did love Bobby, and he was somewhat possessive of her in those days. 

Braxton gently steered the conversation to an inquiry about her current love life, and was greeted by a snort of derisive laughter.

"Love life?" Debbie said, chuckling. "What man in his right mind is going to want a used up 35-year-old with three kids under the age of 9?"

"I can think of one right off the top of my head," Braxton said.

Debbie looked at him for a long pregnant moment, then she smiled shyly.

"I always did like you, Braxton," she said softly. "You were always so sweet-natured, so pleasant to talk to. I'm flattered, I really am. But right now ... Let's just say, I still have some issues. Bobby hurt me pretty badly, and I just don't need to jump into anything right now."

"When you're ready, let me know," Braxton said, getting up to grab another couple of beers. "Two years is a long time to go without having someone, even if it's just to come over once in a while and shoot the shit."

They spent another hour or so talking about their high school days, some of the exploits and events that had occurred. 

After he left, Braxton drove the few blocks to his house thinking about things -- the past, the present, the future -- and about Debbie Stewart, and whether he wanted to pursue a relationship with her. 

She did have a point; any man who went with her also went with her three very active kids, a daughter and two rambunctious sons, not to mention a hostile ex-husband.

Still, she seemed awfully lonely, awfully in need of a good shoulder to cry on, and, yes, a good man to just ball her brains out. Then, maybe she'd forget about Bobby Stewart and get on with her life.

On Monday, Braxton had called Debbie and invited her to go with him the following Friday night to the homecoming game for St. James Prep. He'd resisted the urge to go see his old team play, but he figured homecoming would be a good time to go.

For Braxton, coming through the entry into the old concrete stadium brought back a flood of memories, bad and good. The Jimmies had won some big games during those years, but they'd also lost some, as well, a few heartbreakers and a few blowouts.

He hadn't set foot in the place since he'd walked off the field the hero after the big upset over Palestine High, so in a lot of ways it was good to be back. He saw a lot of old friends and teammates, and even had his name mentioned over the PA as being in attendance.

For Debbie, the reminders were a little more personal, a little more painful and a lot more recent. While she'd been married to Bobby, they had never missed a home game. 

Being part of the school's alumni association and booster club had been a business proposition for him, and he'd made Debbie go with him, then he'd go off and schmooze with his friends and clients. She'd sit -- or stand, if events warranted -- and watch the game alone.

Since her divorce, she hadn't been back to a game. But she had a good time with Braxton, and they met some old classmates afterward for a couple of drinks and a late meal. They laughed at old stories and bragged about what they did back in the day.

It was the best time Braxton had had since his return to Palestine, and his reward was a nice kiss at Debbie's door when he delivered her to her house.

As fall descended on the area, and the weather got colder, there was a lot going on in Braxton's life. He was working some long hours, and when he wasn't working, he was doing a lot around the house, getting it winterized and generally sprucing it up. Plus, he also had his father's medical care to deal with, with lots of doctor's visits and pharmacy visits.

So he didn't have much time for a social life, but he seemed to find himself hanging out with Debbie on a lot of Friday nights. He'd finish his work week, when he wasn't working Saturdays, spend some time with his dad, then wander over to Debbie's later in the evening, after she'd put the kids to bed.

They'd sit around, have a few beers and talk about the old days. Sometimes, she'd pull out the old yearbooks and they'd ride down memory lane. They laughed at how they looked back then, and Debbie occasionally shed a tear or two when they ran across a picture of a friend from school who had passed on much too early.

It was a nice, casual relationship between two old friends who were looking for something they couldn't quite put their finger on. 

It was on a cold night in early December when they found it.

They were sitting under a blanket together, real close, watching a basketball game on TV. Up to that point, there really hadn't been anything blatantly sexual between them, a little bit of making out on a couple of occasions when they'd had a couple of beers.

But this time, when Braxton leaned over and kissed Debbie, there was a hunger in her response. Her hands roamed all over his body, and his were all over hers. As they broke apart, they stared into each other's eyes, communicating wordlessly. 

Then their mouths found each other again and they really got into it now, kissing hard, thrusting their tongues together and their hands had settled on the places they wanted to be -- his on her breasts and hers on his cock.

This time, they were panting when they broke the clinch.

"Braxton, I want you," Debbie said. "Please, take me to bed. I need you."

"Are you sure?" Braxton said. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do this to keep me as your friend."

"Braxton, honey, it's been over two years since I've had a man, and my body aches for it," Debbie said. "You don't know how many times I've cried myself to sleep from frustration because I crave the intimate touch of a man, a good man, and yet I'm so afraid to trust one enough to let him get to me. Until you came back, that is. I don't know if our relationship has any legs, but right now, you're what I need. And I want you badly."

Nothing more needed to be said. They let the blanket fall to the floor and walked arm-in-arm back to her bedroom. Braxton just stared as Debbie pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it aside. He was riveted to the sight of Debbie's plump tits, secure in a fairly thin bra.

Braxton quickly shed his flannel shirt and the T-shirt he wore under it, while Debbie reached back, unhooked her bra and tossed it on top of her sweater. She held her breasts out with each hand as they came together again.

This time, their kiss was slow and smoldering. There was no rush now; they had all the time they needed. As they kissed deeply, they each felt the crackle of sensation as their naked skin connected.

Braxton's hands naturally gravitated to Debbie's tits, with the stiff pink nipples jutting out proudly. His cock was hard, painfully hard in his snug jeans, and he gave a soft sigh as Debbie unbuttoned and unzipped him.

Debbie could feel the squishy wetness as her pussy was flooded with her arousal. She cooed as Braxton reciprocated, unfastening and lowering her own pair of jeans, and she hissed as his fingers found her sex.

Almost without realizing it, they found themselves on Debbie's bed, feeling the sizzle of lust as their bodies slid together. Braxton laid Debbie back and moved down her body slightly, so he could taste her tits. He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, while his hand fondled its mate.

Debbie ran her hands through Braxton's hair as she held him to her breast. She was sitting on a powder keg of passion that was ready to explode, and Braxton could sense it. He didn't linger on the one breast, but pulled his mouth away and worked on the other for awhile then slid down Debbie's body until he was lying between her legs.

Braxton gently opened Debbie's legs and gazed as the glistening gash that sat between them, framed by a nice carpet of fur that was a little darker than the blonde locks on her head. He smiled as he heard Debbie moan and arch her back when he pushed two fingers into her slit.

He leisurely worked his fingers back and forth in her hot box, while his thumb slowly circled her clit. 

Suddenly, he bent his head down and slashed his tongue up her furrow, then followed quickly with his lips. He worked his mouth all over the dripping pussy, and Debbie could feel it in the pit of her stomach as an orgasm of landslide proportions picked up steam. She was moaning, panting and writhing on the bed as she savored the work that Braxton was doing on her overheated cunt.

Just about the time she didn't think she could take the climb, she felt something break, like a dam collapsing under the weight of the water.

"Gwaaaaad!" Debbie cried out as her body shuddered from head to toe with her climax. Without realizing it, she had her hands back in Braxton's hair, holding him firmly in place between her legs.

"Je-e-e-e-zus," she wailed. "Ohhhhh! Braxton Rogers, I want you now. Come up here and fuck me, fuck me like you always wanted to. Please, baby, I need it!"

Braxton was ready. His cock had been doing the bump and grind with Debbie's bed while he licked and sucked her pussy, threatening to bore a hole in her mattress. 

He got up on his knees between Debbie's legs, then gazed up at the face in front of him. He felt a thrill run up and down his spine at the expectant look on Debbie's face, the way her soft blonde hair fanned out over the pillow.

As if they were on a cosmic wavelength, Debbie reached down with one hand and opened herself up, a tacit offering for Braxton to fuck her and fuck her good.

Braxton didn't need the invitation. He lined up the head of his cock to her pink opening and slid into her hot depths like a knife through warm butter. 

Debbie's eyes were closed in reverie as she felt a man enter her body for the first time in a long, long time. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, giving herself to her old friend.

He was good, very good, taking it slow and easy as he let her get into a comfortable rhythm, let her become adjusted to his cock.

Braxton felt a swelling of emotions as he churned his cock back and forth in Debbie's creamy cunt. She had a hot, wet pussy and an active body, and he felt a charge as he heard the coos and sighs that flowed from Debbie's mouth.

He filled his hands with Debbie's breasts, which shook like little bowls of Jell-O. He worked her stiff pink nipples between his fingers and felt a sizzle go through his body at Debbie's gasp of lustful surprise.

They stared at each other, seeing the want and the need in each other's eyes and the smile of satisfaction they both wore. With a sexy chuckle, Braxton bent down and gathered Debbie in his arms and they kissed deeply, letting all of the pent-up passion burst forth between them.

Braxton felt like he was back in high school, like he was 18 again, only with a 35-year-old's experience and knowledge. 

He could feel Debbie's body working under him, her voice becoming strained as she approached another climax. Her pussy was trembling, spasming with the onset of a powerful explosion that consumed all of her concentration, all of her will.

"Give me that cock, baby, fuck me good," Debbie panted. "Make me come. Come on, baby, come with me, do it, Braxton, doooooo iiiiiiiiit!"

At that, Debbie's body stiffened for just a second as she teetered on the edge, then with a loud, thudding groan she cut loose with a powerful climax. She cried out her passion as her body shook and shimmied under Braxton's hard thrusts.

Braxton held back as long as he could, but when Debbie lost control under him, he felt the white heat of orgasm explode through his cock, and with a gasp, he came hard, powerfully. His molten-hot cum spewed out the end of his cock, filling Debbie's womb deeply.

Together, they writhed on the bed as the waves of lust carried them along. Debbie clutched Braxton tightly, as if she wasn't going to ever let him go, her pussy milking Braxton's cock of every last bit of semen he had to offer. And Braxton kept thrusting his cock deep into Debbie's flooded hole, squeezing out little bursts of cum, even as his cock was starting to wilt.

Finally, Braxton collapsed onto Debbie's sweaty body, and his sated cock slid out of her well-satisfied pussy. They laughed softly as they enjoyed the glow that comes from good lovemaking. Debbie curled up in the crook of Braxton's arm, snuggling in and enjoying the feel of a man after so long alone.

After resting for awhile, they did it again, this time with Debbie on top, and Braxton got an extra charge out of the way her tits bounced in time to her up-and-down motion.

When they were finished, they showered together, then Braxton dressed and left Debbie's house quietly. They had decided that it wouldn't do for him to spend the night, at least not while her kids were in the house. 

Debbie was trying to teach her children the value of morals, and she -- and Braxton -- didn't think it would look good for them to see her spending the night with a man she wasn't married to, even if the man was "Uncle" Braxton, whom they had gotten to know over the previous weeks.




Glory Days Ch. 02



As Braxton walked home through the cold night, he thought about what had happened and what might happen. Did he love her? He wasn't sure. Yes, he liked her, and she liked him. But was it love?

Then, with a sardonic laugh, he decided it didn't matter. They were two old friends who needed someone special at that moment in their lives, and they liked each other well enough to give each other what they needed. If it developed into love, then he'd be happy, but if it didn't, it would still be a meaningful relationship.

Braxton went to bed a happy man that night and slept well.

(To be continued) 



Glory Days Ch. 03



My life had taken a turn for the unreal. Two sexual encounters with Sara, a girl who until now I could only dare to dream about. Since our fun in my car Sara and I had turned into a full fledged couple. We went out on weekends to the movies and dinner, and usually back to one of our houses for some extracurricular fun. All the guys in school were completely jealous of me, and the girls were wondering what I was doing to keep her satisfied. You see I wasn't exactly Mr. Popular or Cool or really anyone important until now all the sudden. After we had been together for five months I even began to wonder how the hell I was enough for her, I wasn't THAT interesting.

Our conversations began to take a turn for the worse when I started getting paranoid. "Hey Sara how was your day?" I would ask.

"Great! How was yours?" Would be her innocent reply.

"Great? What the hell? Are you sleeping around or something?" Blunt, yet stupid, I was always proud of my poise. She started out flattered that I worried about her, that quickly turned to annoyed over my lack of trust and soon to anger concerning my stupidity.

"You should learn to keep your mouth shut before I really get offended and leave you." Was a typical statement made by Sara during these rough times. Usually followed by my grumbled response with the word, dammit, mixed in. 

On one of these enlightening days after just such an argument, we parted ways because I thought she could use some time to cool down. I proceeded down the halls to my next class a little worried that she might be really ticked off this time and dump me. So I thought I could do some damage control through one of her friends, Jess just so happened to be in my next class and it seemed ideal. 

"Hey Jess, can we talk a minute?"

"You and Sara had another fight huh?" She already blew my cover, but perhaps my plan could still go off.

"Yeah we did. I was thinking maybe you could talk to her and try to calm her down."

"I saw her a few minutes ago and it's gonna take more than a few friends to calm her down this time Shawn." I knew I had pushed her one time too many. "Anyway, I'm tired of helping you out. All you do is accuse her of cheating, she deserves better." Ha, and you all thought I was paranoid, everyone really is against me.

"I'm just scared is all, I don't see how a great girl like Sara could want to be with a loser like me." 

"In case you haven't noticed, retard, your not a bad catch yourself. If you'd only have a little self-confidence you could probably have your pick of girls in this school, she is so happy to be with you." Then Jess just turned away and sat down, she was obviously getting mad too so I decided to leave her to herself.

At the end of the day as I walked to my car I saw Sara closing in, this was it, I HAD to say something romantic this time or I'd lose her. She stopped halfway to me and said good-bye to Mike, and here she was right up next to me smiling, letting her cool off had worked. She started to explain how her feelings had changed.She was up close against me as we always talked. I could taste her sweet breath and I wanted so badly to kiss her but I had to wait for her to explain, and of course for my loving words.. "So in Study hall I was wondering how you could possibly..." She looked gorgeous today too. A tight little black tanktop that showed off her perky boobs and flat stomach in unison. She interlaced her fingers with mine and went on explaining. All I could think of was the upcoming kiss. Her soft lips and mine pressed together as we embrace. God she was such a great girl. And I had just the right romantic comment to make, she would melt right there in the parking lot and we'd be in love again. "...so I thought if that's all it is then I guess I could get over it..." But hey, what was that smile when she said good-bye to Mike? And suddenly she's all cheery? "...and I forgive you, just trust me baby you have nothing to worry..." 

"Did you have sex with Mike?!" Very beautiful, violins filled the air and angels got there wings as my romantic words crashed and burned in a jealous rage. Only this time I said it loud and people had turned to see one of our famous fights. Already a crowd had gathered as tears filled her eyes.

"You are such an asshole! We're through." With that she slapped me hard across the face and ran off to her car. 

The next few weeks were depressing. Valentine's Day came and went and we never spoke. I sent her flowers but upon driving past her house I found then strewn about her lawn apparently in a fit of anger. By March we both had dealt with it and would even say "Hi" in the hall as we passed each other. Never more than that, because both of us feared what I might say next. 

One thing that began to burrow it's way into my thoughts was what Jess had said to me. With a little confidence I could have my pick of girls. I wondered if this was true. I could have confidence. Why not? The next day I acted a bit more outgoing with everyone, I relied on my words and didn't doubt myself. I could see the other kids were reacting to this too. The girls especially. They seemed to respect me more, along with my new hard-work body this attitude could really get my life into high gear. 

There was only one way to know if this was enough to get my pick of girls, and I was glad to try it. After a week of confident Shawn it seemed like time to put myself to work. And I knew just the girl.



Glory Days Ch. 03



Introduction: This story is based on Bruce Springsteen's classic song "Glory Days," which has to do with memories, immaturity and aging. In the song, the narrator talks about, "boring stories of glory days," in a hardscrabble Rust Belt town.

As I've listened to the song over the years, I've started seeing interesting possibilities for a very nice erotic story with an important message. The plot loosely follows the song through the first two stanzas, the first two chapters, then makes its own way to the conclusion.

In order to understand this final chapter, you should first read the first two chapters, as the story picks up immediately without much of a recap of preceding events. 

Chapter 3

Christmas at the Rogers' house was a great deal more festive that year than it had been the year before. That year, it had only been about seven weeks since Mary Rogers's sudden death, and Braxton's dad was still in the early stages of grief.

In fact, Bruce Rogers hadn't done any decorating for the season, and spent most of the holiday with his oldest son Lenny in Philadelphia. 

Braxton had gone up for a couple of days, but it had been a rather somber occasion, and his sister Julie had stayed home in California with her family and hers.

But this year, Braxton was determined that the holidays were going to be lively. He got Julie and her husband to promise that they'd fly in to spend some time with her father, and Lenny had been very agreeable to coming over from Philly with his family for a couple of days. 

Braxton didn't say so directly, but he gave both his brother and sister the firm indication that this might be the last Christmas they'd have their father, so they'd better grab the opportunity while he was still around.

Braxton got a tree, a real one, dug the decorations out of the attic, and he spent most of a Sunday afternoon fixing up the house for Christmas, while an NFL game blared away on the TV in the den.

He was feeling better about life than he had in quite awhile. He still wasn't entirely satisfied that he was back in his old hometown of Palestine, wasn't sure if that was where he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

But he was doing well in his job, he and his father were getting along good and he had a nice little romance brewing with his old high school friend Debbie Stewart.

It was a couple of days after Christmas when things took an unexpected turn.

Things had not gone well for Bobby Stewart over the previous few weeks. He'd been reprimanded in his job, and his career in Boston was stalling, plus he'd broken up with yet another girlfriend who had gotten fed up with his philandering ways, and his temper, fueled as it was by increasingly excessive drinking.

He'd had some vacation time, so he'd decided to spend the week between Christmas and New Year's back in Palestine. He'd see a few old acquaintances, see his kids, maybe even give his ex a tumble or two. He figured by now that she was probably desperate enough that she'd put aside her animosity toward him just to get another chance at his hot cock.

But that idea was rudely scotched when he learned that Debbie had been seeing an old classmate of theirs, Braxton Rogers, and she wasn't the least bit desperate for some loving, especially from him. 

That didn't sit well with Bobby. As far as he was concerned, Debbie was still his girl, and it pissed him off to see that she was happy without him, especially with Rogers, a guy he'd never liked much in high school. Braxton was just a little too ... nice, plus he suspected that Debbie had always had some feelings for Braxton from way back in middle school.

So when he saw Braxton and Debbie together out at the Roadside Tavern, he was more than a little drunk and spoiling for a fight.

Debbie didn't bother to hide her disgust when he approached the table where they were sitting, and that just pissed Bobby off even further.

"I thought you were too good to be a slut, Debbie," he sneered. "I can see I was wrong about you. I think we may have to revisit our custody arrangement if you're going to be whoring around with every guy in town."

"Listen, asshole, she's not your wife any more, so why don't you fuck off," Braxton said, getting right up in Bobby's face.

Bobby was just about ready to take a swing at Braxton when he felt a meaty hand on his shoulder, and he turned slightly to find himself in the grip of one of the largest men he'd ever seen.

Curt Marlowe had been out with some co-workers and had seen the trouble brewing, seen how the angry man with the tight-lipped look had been watching the couple at the table and for some reason he never quite understood, decided to intervene.

"Dude, I don't think these good people are interested in anything you have to say," Curt said as he ushered Bobby toward the door. "I think it's time for you to leave."

Bobby just sputtered, but didn't resist as he was shoved out the door. He may have been drunk and obnoxious, but he wasn't stupid. Curt was easily 6-foot-6, weighed somewhere in the neighborhood of 300-plus pounds, and none of it was flab.

As Bobby made his sullen way to his car, Curt pulled out a cell phone, punched in three numbers, spoke for a few seconds then shut the phone and walked back into the bar.

Having disposed of Bobby Stewart, Curt turned back to the couple at the table, and he could tell the woman was upset. Braxton turned as Curt looked down on them.

"I could have handled him," Braxton said. "But thanks anyway. Look, can I buy you a beer?"

Curt agreed and sat down in an empty chair. Introductions were made, and when Curt and Debbie locked eyes and shook hands, something flared between them. 

"Braxton Rogers?" Curt said quizzically after shaking hands with Braxton. "Did you play football down in Kentucky a few years back?"

"Uh, yeah, I did," Braxton said.

"That's what I thought," Curt said. "I grew up in that area, and I was in high school when you were there. It's kind of an unusual name, and it was in the papers some. I'm pleased to meet you."

Curt had gone on to play tackle for UK, then had a cup of coffee or two with a couple of pro teams before getting on with his life as a coach. He'd been the offensive line coach at St. James College for less than a year, and the two men quickly started talking football.

After another couple of beers, they called it a night. 

"What about Bobby; you think he may look to start something?" Debbie asked hesitantly.

"I wouldn't worry about him," Curt said, with a conspiratorial grin on his face. "He's got more pressing problems right about now."

Curt explained that he'd called the police about a drunk driver in a car matching the one Bobby was driving.

They all got a good laugh about that, then Braxton and Debbie went one way while Curt went the other. But he looked with some longing as Braxton drove away with Debbie in the front seat. That was a fine one there, he thought.

Debbie was lost in thought as Braxton drove her home. She thought about the big man who come to their defense. He was quite good-looking and big, with mischievous eyes. She was a little confused, because she really liked Braxton, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings. But there was something about the big man that she found very appealing.

Braxton, too, was a little quiet as they made their way to Debbie's house. The incident with Bobby had unnerved him, then to see way Curt and Debbie had looked at each other gave him pause. He knew instinctively that something was there.

When they got to her door, Debbie begged off inviting him in, saying she was too upset from the night's happenings to be very good company. Braxton said he understood, and they kissed warmly before he returned home.

They got together for New Year's Eve, and he did spend the night at Debbie's house, but he still got a sense that things were cooling off between them. And his instincts proved to be right.

Braxton was at work a few days after New Year's when he got a call from Curt Marlowe, asking if they could meet after work for a couple of drinks.

They met at Chili's on North Main, the strip where most of the better restaurants in Palestine were located. After getting a round of beers, Curt looked at Braxton with a little bit of embarrassment on his face.

"Braxton, I'll get right to the point," Curt said. "I'm a single guy, and I don't usually have trouble finding women to go out with. In most cases, if I meet someone I like, I simply go after her, but this is a little more complicated."

"Let me guess," Braxton said. "You're interested in Debbie Stewart."

"You're very perceptive," Curt said. "I'm very interested in her, and I think she's interested in me. But I don't want to break anything up between you two. I like you and I've learned enough about you, and why you moved back here, to have a lot of respect for you. So I have to ask whether your relationship with Debbie is serious or not. If it is, I'll back off, but if not, I'd like to ask her out."

"I appreciate your consideration," Braxton said. "I don't know how much you know about Debbie, but we go back a long, long way -- as friends. I'm quite fond of her, but we're not in love, and I have no hold on her. She's just now getting out of her shell, where she crawled after she broke up with Bobby, and I've tried to help her. But maybe she needs to play the field a little bit, so if you want to take a run at her, by all means, go for it."

"Thanks, man," Curt said. "Like I said, I felt like I owed it to you before I did anything."

"That's very gracious of you, and I appreciate it," Braxton said, fixing Curt with a steady gaze. "All I ask is that you treat her right. Debbie's a damn good woman, and her self-esteem went through the wringer when she broke up with Bobby. She needs to have her ego stroked, needs to be told she's desirable. Treat her right, and I bet she'll do anything for you."

"Oh, I will," Curt said.

And with that, Braxton soon found himself a free agent. He was a little down about it, because he'd thought that relationship had some promise, but he soon found himself with little time to dwell on it.

The winter was cold, and his father's respiratory problems took a turn for the worse. Bruce was in and out of the hospital for the next few months, and he actually coded one night while he was in ICU.

But with the coming of spring, he seemed to improve. Nevertheless, Braxton's free time was mostly taken up with ferrying his dad to the hospital, or to the doctor, or to the drug store, and with haggling with the insurance company.

Bruce had gotten his health insurance plan through the union, and it was a bureaucratic nightmare getting them to pay for his treatment. 

The difficulties with the insurance left Braxton wondering what those members did who didn't have sons or other relatives who knew how the insurance business worked, as he did.

Braxton's troubles with the insurance and the doctors and the pharmacists was compounded by his pervasive sense of dread that his father was dying.

Ironically, it was the old man himself who helped alleviate Braxton's fears. They were sitting on the front porch on a Sunday afternoon, the first really pretty spring day of the year, when Bruce looked over at his son.

"You know, Brax, I'm really glad we've had this time together," Bruce said. "You've made this last year an unexpected joy, just having you home. I wasn't sure after your mother died whether I'd ever have joy again, but I really appreciate what you've done for me. Hell, I know I'm a cantankerous old cuss, and I'm sure you probably get tired of chauffeuring me around and listening to me bitch. But I'm glad it's you that's doing it. I think now I can die with some peace, knowing that you're here to take care of things. You belong here, son. This is your home, for better or worse."

"I just wish I could find someone to settle down here with," Braxton said "I feel like my chances are slipping away."

"Oh, you'll find someone, probably sooner than you think," Bruce said.

The old man was right.

Miranda Thompson was driving to her work at the Palestine Head Start School one morning when a high school kid ran a red light and plowed into her car. Fortunately, she wasn't hurt, but her car was totaled.

She filed a claim with her insurance company, and Braxton was the adjuster for the company who came to assess the damage and write a report so that she could begin the process of obtaining a temporary rental that she could use until the company cut her a check and she could buy a new car.

The moment Braxton laid eyes on Miranda, and heard her soft Southern drawl, he felt his stomach twist in knots, with good reason. She was taller than average and very pretty, with porcelain skin, dazzling blue eyes and dark, naturally curly hair that fell just short of her shoulders.

She'd grown up in an aristocratic family in the Low Country of South Carolina, but her mother had been a bit of a rebel, and she instilled in Miranda a desire to be something other than a Charleston socialite.

She'd graduated at the top of her class in high school and went off to Princeton for college. She could have had her pick of any career she wanted, but she wanted to teach, and teach some place where she could make an impact on the world.

So she'd answered an ad for a Head Start teacher in Palestine, and had found a lot to like about the rough steel town.

She loved teaching the sons and daughters of the working-class, and she made a distinct impression on everyone she came into contact with in Palestine.

She certainly made an impression on Braxton. He'd had some experience with Southern women during his time in Nashville, and while some of them had been real heartbreakers, he still loved their ways -- the way they talked, the way they understood manners and the way they treated their men.

He couldn't help himself from thinking dangerous thoughts about the tall brunette. He couldn't get her out of his mind, and the thoughts of her lithe body sent shivers up his spine. As a teacher of young kids, she projected a front of coolness and propriety, but Braxton quickly got the sense that below the surface, Miranda Thompson was one hot-blooded woman.

As for Miranda, she was never quite sure what it was about Braxton Rogers that appealed to her, but she left her first encounter with him feeling hot and sticky between her legs. He was sexy, but not overtly so; good-looking, but not someone who appeared vain about it; confident, but not cocky.

Her feelings for him confused her. She still had a somewhat steady boyfriend from college that she saw periodically, but that relationship had cooled noticeably, and she had been on a few dates in Palestine that had gone nowhere.

A few days after inspecting her car, Braxton called Miranda at home. At first, he talked business. The company was in the process of getting her check ready, and she should be getting it in a few days.

"Look, I know you're the client and all," Braxton said after an awkward pause. "But I wanted to know if you'd like to go out to dinner one night this week. I've been thinking about you a lot."

Miranda tried to hold down the excitement level in her voice, but she still had a jittery tone to her voice as she accepted Braxton's invitation. 

"S-sure; I'd love to," Miranda said.

Braxton made reservations at the Chez St. Denis, a French-style restaurant located across the street from the river, right next to the old concert hall that was the city's cultural centerpiece. Braxton smiled as he walked Miranda past the old building and told her about some of the concerts he'd seen there when he was younger.

Dinner was delicious, and Braxton found himself getting lost in the azure pools of Miranda's eyes. They talked about their families, their backgrounds and the city that had brought them together.

Her enthusiasm about Palestine and the possibilities the city offered was infectious, and Braxton realized that his father was right. This was his home, for better or worse. He was a part of the community now, and he always had been, he'd just been too proud to admit it.

After dinner, they took a walk over to the park that the city had made out of the large island that sat in the middle of the river. It was the perfect place for lovers.

"Penny for your thoughts," Miranda said as Braxton leaned over the railing by the riverfront and gazed back at the town that had nurtured him and made him a hero back in his glory days.

"You know," he said, almost talking to himself. "You are just about the prettiest woman I think I've ever seen."

"I'll bet you say that to all your girlfriends," Miranda said, snuggling up to Braxton for protection from the slight chill of the mid-spring night.

"Funny thing about me," Braxton said. "I only have one girlfriend at a time. I don't believe in keeping women on a string. Either I'm with them, or I'm not."

"What about me?" Miranda said. "Are you with me or not?"

"That's up to you," Braxton said softly, seconds before he drew her into his arms and kissed her for the first time. Their mouths strained together, and their tongues did languid, lustful battle, and Miranda could definitely feel the swelling bulge of Braxton's cock as it pressed into her abdomen.

Miranda shivered when they came up for air after a long kiss that told them a lot about their feelings.

They kissed again, deeply and with incipient passion, then walked arm-in-arm back to Braxton's car.

Miranda was tempted to invite Braxton in after he brought her home to her apartment, but she resisted. She wasn't a woman who fell into bed with a guy on the first date, plus she needed to sever her ties with her old boyfriend once and for all before she entered into a deeper relationship with Braxton.

But there was no doubt in her mind that she was going after Braxton Rogers, going for broke with him. She'd never felt this way about a man before, and she was eager to experience him in every way.

For his part, Braxton floated home on a cloud, and his eyes had a dreamy cast to them as he walked in the door. Bruce was in the kitchen getting a glass of milk when Braxton came through the door, and he grinned when he saw that look in his son's eyes.

They talked for a few minutes, then Braxton went into the den to watch some late-night ball game. Bruce felt his heart soaring as he slowly made his way to his bedroom. His most fervent wish was that he could live long enough to see his boy get married. 

He and Mary had always known that Lenny and Julie would find someone pretty early in life. They were both quiet, introspective, and very domestic. But Braxton had been a restless child, never settling for less than what he thought was the best.

And from the way Braxton talked about this one, as time went on, he felt that maybe his son had finally found, "the one."

Three weeks later, on a beautiful, warm Saturday night, Braxton knocked on the door to Miranda's apartment. He was dressed in a starched pair of khakis and a dress shirt, and he carried one long-stemmed rose.

When Miranda opened the door, he stood there speechless. She had on a tight little black dress that showed off a generous portion of her outrageously long legs and molded around her smallish breasts like a second skin, giving him a good impression of her eraser-like nipples. He dark curls were pulled back off her ears and she'd taken great care with her makeup.

Miranda wanted everything to be perfect about this night. She'd invited Braxton to her apartment for dinner, a fateful step in the progress of their relationship. They'd hinted around about their desire for each other, but they'd taken it slow, letting the fire build to a white-hot intensity.

By now, they both knew they were in love; it was just a matter now of sealing it. 




Glory Days Ch. 03



Dinner was exquisite, Shrimp Creole made with shrimp that she'd special-ordered and had shipped directly from a wholesale seafood distributor out of Pensacola, Fla. Two days earlier they'd been swimming in the Gulf of Mexico, now they were being served in the spicy concoction she'd learned how to make from her mother.

Braxton was impressed with Miranda's apartment. It was modest, yet tastefully furnished just richly enough to hint at her upbringing, and the fact that she could afford to have fresh Gulf shrimp shipped up from Florida was not lost on Braxton.

He sensed that he was playing in a league higher than any he'd been in before, but he couldn't help it. He had to follow his heart, and so far Miranda hadn't been the least bit fazed by his background as the son of a steelworker. 

On the contrary, when Braxton took her to meet his father, she was fascinated by Bruce's tales of working on the line, of working hard week after week for a paycheck, and of the stories he told of coaching Braxton in football and baseball, of hunting trips they'd made together.

And she loved the old house in the tight-knit neighborhood where Bruce and Mary had raised their family. There was a lot of love lingering in the house, and she could already picture herself playing with her children in the fenced-in back yard. 

After dinner, they retired to the sofa in the living room. Braxton kicked off his loafers and Miranda removed her heels as they lay back on the soft cushions. It was the moment of truth.

"Would you like to see them?" Miranda asked abruptly.

"What do you mean?" Braxton said.

"My tits; do you want to see them," she asked again. "You've been staring at them all night."

"Hard not to, with that dress," Braxton said, and he stared goggle-eyed as Miranda pulled the dress off her breasts.

She took each nipple in a hand and lightly twirled them around as they stiffened into hard little tips.

"They're beautiful," Braxton whispered as he leaned over and took Miranda in his arms and they kissed. It was a slow, smoldering kiss, but within seconds they were straining at each other, their tongues dueling as Braxton filled one of his hands with a teacup-sized breast.

Miranda hissed through clenched teeth as she felt Braxton's hands on the soft flesh of her tit, then she groaned lightly as his fingers found her super-sensitive nipples.

Braxton's cock was throbbing in its need, as it strained the limits of his slacks. He'd been anticipating this almost from the first time he'd seen this woman, and now he was about to have his patience rewarded in a most delightful way.

Leaning over, Braxton planted his mouth back on Miranda's, and now they were panting in their desire. They had hoped to make love this first time, but it seemed that their bodies were too revved up for mere lovemaking.

Braxton's right hand slid up Miranda's long, smooth legs, up to the fertile valley that lay between them. He could feel the wet heat of her steamy cunt through the scanty panties she was wearing. 

He didn't hesitate, but slipped his fingers in the gusset and got his first feel of Miranda's juicy pussy. At the same moment, her hand found the bulge in Braxton's slacks. She groaned hotly as he expertly slid his fingers up her furrow, circling her clit before pushing their way inside her.

"God, Braxton, baby!" she gasped. "Fuck me, baby. I want it, and I want it now! Please, I'm so hot for you. Do it now!"

Braxton raised himself up on the sofa just enough to let Miranda unbutton his shirt, while he undid his pants and lowered them to his knees.

Miranda was in the grips of a lustful frenzy she'd never experienced before. She'd had lovers before, but none of them had made her feel like this, and all Braxton had had to do was walk in the door and sit at her table for an hour. She rolled her skirt up to her waist, pulled her panties off, pushed Braxton back to where he was in a sitting position and climbed on his lap.

Their mouths again worked like magnets, while they each used a hand to get themselves where they wanted to be. Braxton was swirling two fingers around and around, and in and out of Miranda's pussy while Miranda was holding Braxton's cock at the base as she got into position.

When the head of Braxton's cock made contact with the lips of Miranda's pussy, it was like an electric shock went through them, and they gasped as she pushed her hips down and let him fill her with his throbbing meat.

They just stared into each other's eyes, an enigmatic smile playing across their faces as they began to work together, feeling the rush of passion carry them along on an unstoppable tidal wave of lust.

"Oh, baby, you feel so good," Braxton said softly as he thrust his cock up and down in Miranda's soupy cunt.

"Ummmmm, baby, I love they way you fill me," Miranda responded. 

Her eyes were lidded in supreme lust as her climax built steadily ever upward with each powerful push of her lover's cock in her super-hot pussy. Faster and harder, they worked as one as they magic of love enveloped them, spurring them to new heights of ecstasy.

They knew they weren't going to last long; their passion had been building so powerfully that they knew they couldn't hold it back. But they also knew they had plenty of time to come back and do it slower the next time.

Braxton was working his hips upward like a jack-hammer, and Miranda was slamming her hips down hard as they felt the sizzle of climax overtake them. Braxton felt something like an out-of- body experience as the molten cum roared from his scrotum and erupted deep in Miranda's spastic pussy.

Miranda was still a second or two away when she felt Braxton explode deep in her womb and she worked her clit around the base of his cock in a frenzied effort to trigger her orgasm.

But if she thought Braxton was done, she was quickly shown otherwise. As soon as he felt the last little burst of semen shoot from his cock, he rolled Miranda over onto her back, his still half-hard cock flopping wetly from her dilated hole. He dropped quickly to his knees and clamped his mouth right on her gushing gash. 

As he licked the cum from her pussy, he used his lips on her clit almost like he was sucking a small cock, and when he did that, Miranda lost it in a frothing orgasm the likes of which she could never quite recall having. 

She shuddered on the sofa, her crotch twitching as she mauled her tits with both hands, feeling the crackle of sensation radiate from her breasts to her pussy and beyond.

Finally, she had to pull Braxton away from her tender cunt, and she got an extra little charge out of the taste of herself on his mouth as they kissed, ravenously, wantonly.

"Wow!" they said in unison, then they laughed at just how in-tune their minds were at that moment.

"Baby, you were sensational," Braxton said a few minutes later as they languished on the sofa in the afterglow of love and lust.

Miranda was lost in thought as she snuggled close to the man she knew instinctively was hers forever. 

"Braxton?" she said dreamily. "I want to have your babies."

"Really?" he said in a kind of bemused, ironic tone of voice.

"Well, not right now, of course," Miranda said, realizing the implications of what she'd just said. "It's just that I've never felt for any man like I do for you. I want to get to know everything about you, all of you. I want to be yours forever."

"Funny you should say that," Braxton said. "Because I was kind of thinking the same thing about you. But right now, what I want is to get naked with you, take a nice sexy bath, then I want to make love to you all night long. What do you think?"

"I think we're wasting time," she said jumping up and pulling Braxton off the sofa.

They spent a long time in the tub, exploring each other's body, getting to know each other in the way that lovers do. Then Miranda got Braxton on her bed and they feasted long and slowly on each other.

Braxton loved the dark, curly bush that framed Miranda's hot box, and Miranda grooved on the way the veins on Braxton's cock stood out when he was especially aroused.

And when Braxton finally rolled Miranda gently onto her back, she opened her legs as wide as possible and welcomed him in for a long smoldering fuck that took their breath away. Braxton held off his climax until he'd made Miranda come twice -- hard -- and she was begging him to fill her up with his spicy cum.

Then they curled up together and fell asleep, the first of countless nights they'd spend together.

It was two days before Christmas, and Braxton Rogers and Miranda Thompson knelt at the altar at St. James Catholic Church, which was two-thirds filled with friends and family. The priest was reading from the Bible, talking about the sanctity of love, but they were only half paying attention.

Braxton looked over at his bride and she at him, and they smiled a sort of conspiratorial smile, like two kids with a guilty secret only they were in on. The priest finished his spiel then they stood up and turned toward the audience while they repeated the vows. 

Braxton looked down at the front pew, at his father, his best man, who was wiping away his tears as he sat there next to his ever-present oxygen tank. He was a happy man on this day. 

Bruce had finally moved out of his old house a month earlier, into an assisted-living facility, but the house was staying in the family. He had already deeded the house to his son, who was planning on raising his own family there, planning on staying and making his future there in Palestine.

Braxton winked at his father, his eyes glistening at seeing him there, while missing his mother. He saw his brother standing in the wedding party, smiling warmly. He saw his sister, his brother, their kids, Miranda's family, all there for them. 

And he also saw Debbie Stewart and Curt Marlowe sitting together, smiling at him in true friendship. They weren't going to be far behind in getting to the altar. Hell, even Chris Mooney was there, shaking his head with a sardonic smile as if to say, "another one bites the dust."

Then, Braxton heard the priest say, "you may kiss the bride," and he lost himself yet again in the depths of Miranda's lips.

As they strode down the aisle while their well-wishers stood and applauded, Braxton had a reflection of his past and a vision of his future. 

He had a bright future with a beautiful, intelligent woman in a love that often left him breathless. He was back home for good, looking to get into the hard work of restoring some of the town's lost luster, looking to connect with his community again, the one he'd grown up in.

He realized in that moment that his glory days weren't left behind on some high school playing field in a rapidly-receding past. No sir, he realized, as he reached the limousine and opened the door for his bride. His glory days were still ahead of him.

(The End)