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Adam

By: perihelion



My best friend Adam's parents had gone to Atlanta for the weekend and we were watching a porno flick in their living room. We'd known each other since we were five and at twenty we were best friends, always in and out of each other's houses. Adam's brother David had married a few years earlier and now Adam was the only one left at home. His father owned a one of the most successful construction businesses in the South and we both worked for him. We'd helped out since we were fourteen and we were put on the payroll fulltime when we turned eighteen.

I was watching Adam more than the movie. I'd participated in sports, had girlfriends, and lived the life of a macho straight guy but I was the only one who knew it was all a lie. I was in love with my best friend Adam Cochise and had been since we were kids. He was an Apache Indian and he was so striking he'd take your breath away with his tanned skin, long blue black hair, and dark eyes. I thought he was the cutest guy I'd ever seen when we were little kids and he grew into the most handsome man in the world. I wasn't alone in my opinion, girls followed him around like he was a god.

Our relationship started out with us being just normal kids but in the second grade Adam had his first girlfriend. I was crushed but even then I knew about the awful queer perversion. Mom's cousin Abner was a queer and he was not allowed in our home. Occasionally I'd hear the scornful laughter from my family and my father said it was a good thing the faggot had moved to San Francisco with all the other fags.

I think most gays know almost from the beginning that they're not interested in girls the way the way other boys are, the way Adam was. Boys are required to walk the walk, talk the talk, be little men growing into grown me. A lot of it is just mostly an act for the world around them to witness. Boys are supposed to be boys, boys are supposed to be horny for girls, boys aren't supposed to be able to survive without regular pussy. I knew Adam well enough to know that he was more interested in his life, his sports, almost anything more than his girlfriends but there was no way he would have ever admitted that. And I had no trouble modelling my own life after his, after my two older brothers, and all the other guys.

But there I was staring at Adam as he watched a slutty whore suck one of the biggest dicks I'd ever seen. The storyline was that she was a prostitute servicing a soldier on a weekend pass. I watched as Adam's cock got bigger and bigger, swelling in his jeans until I thought his zipper was going to explode. His face was flushed and he was swallowing hard, all signs that he'd be masturbating if I hadn't been there. We'd done a lot of things together but jerking off was not one of them.

"Goddamn, look at her tits," he groaned. "Man, I'd love to shoot my load on them right about now."

"So would I," I said huskily.

I'd like to have you shoot your load in my mouth is what I was thinking.

I decided to up the ante a bit and started to rub my dick through my jeans. He didn't look at me but I knew Adam was aware because he started to do the same. Boldly I unzipped my pants and slipped my hand inside.

"Damn, dude, this movie must be really getting to you," he laughed nervously.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to need some paper towels in a minute, that or I need to get up and go to the bathroom."

Adam reached over and took a roll of paper towels out the end table drawer.

"Here you go, Chris. I keep it here so I can jack off when I'm alone."

Our eyes met and they were burning hot with lust. For an instant I thought there was a connection between us that would lead to sex but Adam looked away.

"Go for it, man," he whispered.

He'd given me his blessing so I slipped my jeans down to my knees and started playing with my cock. At first he tried to ignore me but I knew it was getting to him.

"You're really getting into it, man."

His voice was like gravel, hoarse and deep.

"Go ahead, Adam, don't make me do this all by myself," I said softly.

It was all it took for him to stand up and drop his jeans and underwear to the floor. He went one better than me. He pulled his tee shirt off and was naked in front of me. His cock was rock hard, maybe eight or nine inches long and thick like a sausage. Above it was a huge blue black thatch of pubic curls and his balls hung low in a hairy sack. He looked over at me and grinned sheepishly before sitting down and beginning to jack off. Pearls of cum were popping out of his slit and he rubbed them over the glans.

I nearly lost it then, my balls were churning but I forced myself to hold back my orgasm thinking of the shame I would feel if I came first and Adam made fun of me. We'd always been the closest of friends but over the last few years I think he'd begun to suspect my feelings for him and they most definitely were not reciprocated. The embarrassment of being outed was enough to slow my orgasm down and I watched as Adam seemed nearer to his.

"Oh, god, I wish that babe was here to suck my cock," he croaked.

It took all of my power not to fall on my knees and suck it for him. Suddenly his semen exploded out his cock, spurting blast after blast over his chest, even onto his face and the back of the couch. I felt my orgasm coming and in that instant I ripped my tee shirt off and let it shoot over my torso.

"Here, don't say I never gave you anything!" Adam laughed.

He swiped his finger in the cum on his stomach and wiped it on my lips before I could move. I sucked his finger into my mouth, cleaning it. Suddenly we heard a key opening the back door and with super speed we dressed and Adam was at the television snatching the DVD out of the player. As he casually walked toward the kitchen to divert the visitor I swallowed some of his cum that had shot onto the back of the couch, cleaning the rest with paper towels.

It was David, Adam's older brother and he burst out laughing.

"Shit, I've never seen anyone looking guiltier than you two. What have you been up to? Watching porn again, Adam? Damn you two look like I walked in on you fucking."

Adam started laughing with David and I nervously chuckled. David was a cool guy even if he was married to a tight assed cunt.

"You came just in time, David. Chris was about to go totally queer for my body," he laughed.

I must have turned purple because both of them knew I didn't think it was funny and I could see in Adam's eyes that he knew he'd gone too far. There had been others in our past who had joked that I was his bitch and we'd always laughed it off but from the look on David's face he knew the arrow had been shot close to home.

"Look, I need to get out of here, guys. My father expected me home half an hour ago."

A lie, we all knew it was a lie. At twenty my parents didn't give a damn when I came in at night. I looked at Adam one last time before I left and the look in his eyes had become arrogant, almost as if he was saying 'get over it'.

That was on a Saturday night. Adam was not at work on Monday and no one offered a reason why he wasn't there. Weeknights I'd been attending a vocational technical school and was only a week away from completing my certificate in woodworking, looking toward a future making furniture. My teacher said I was the most promising student he'd ever taught and I'd made a cabinet that had been given to the mayor's office as a gift. 

Adam didn't show up for work until Thursday and he walked past me without speaking, only a cursory glance acknowledging that I existed. Fine, if he didn't want to talk to me, then so be it. He was as involved in it as I was, his orgasm came first. I contented myself with that thought although in my heart I knew that I might have lost the friendship of the man I'd loved all my life. 

Graduation was on Saturday and my parents and family attended, although reluctantly. My father was an attorney, a former JAG lawyer who had decided to move to his hometown and open up a practice with my grandfather. Granddad had died four years earlier leaving the business to my father and he was now practicing with my grandfather's partner and my older brother, Josh. My brother Troy was getting his law degree and my sister Joan was the chemistry teacher at the high school. And then there was me, the youngest, getting a certificate in woodworking. I was a total disappointment to them and my father made no secret of it.

Part of my enjoyment at the Vo-Tech school had been one of my teachers, a total stud named Grant Harmon. He and I had become good friends and we both felt an electricity between us. However, Grant was thirty five and married. However, it didn't alter the looks that passed between us and I somehow always knew one day it was going to the next level.

Adam was my passion but I'd known all along it was going nowhere because he was such a straight arrow. What a pitiful pun, an Indian who is a straight arrow, and one who now seemed to hate me. Grant was the macho ex-military man admired by everyone but I knew from the looks he gave me that he wasn't everything he appeared to be. What might have appeared to others to be joking with me was flirting as far as I was concerned.

I was careful in my response to Grant's flirting because his wife was my father's legal secretary. I didn't want any misunderstanding on my part or his because of the potential fallout so I decided he'd have to make the first move. One wrong move on my part would ruin my life and permanently end my relationship with my homophobic family.

Grant was a former Marine who had served in Iraq and was known for his passion for hunting and fishing. There was almost no way that anyone would blame him if I initiated an advance that he rejected. Plus he was a wonderful teacher who was well loved and admired throughout the community. He had an incredible talent for woodworking, particularly cabinet making, and a talent he passed on to me. I actually dreaded seeing the two year course end because I wouldn't see him regularly anymore.

During a break on the last night of class I was standing at a urinal when Grant walked in and stood next to me. He chose to stand next to me when about twenty other urinals were available. I tried to keep my eyes front and center but my peripheral vision detected movement of his hand. I looked over at him and he was gently rubbing his massive cock as piss flowed into the urinal. I looked up into his eyes and he grinned.

"Now that the course has ended I'd like for you to come over to the house Sunday afternoon. We can watch a movie and drink a few beers together."

"Sure," I replied nervously. "I'd like that. Any particular time?"

"Why don't you make it around noon? I'll grill us a couple of steaks and make a salad. That sound okay to you?"

"Sounds great. I'd love it."

Grant looked down at my cock which had plumped up considerably and grinned.

"Nice cock you've got there, Chris. I'll bet you get a lot of pussy with that thing."

"Not as much as you do with that monster of yours," I laughed.

The door opened as we were zipping up and we walked over to the sinks. Grant joked around with the three other guys who had come into the restroom while I contemplated the suddenness of our action. I considered that I might be responding to Grant as a rebound from the pain of Adam but I decided to go with it anyway, my heart pounding in anticipation.

I dressed in blue jeans and a tee shirt on Sunday and I thought I looked pretty good as I rang Grant's doorbell. I'm six two with curly blond hair and built like a swimmer with long legs that seem to go on forever. Grant opened the door wearing cut off blue jeans and a V-neck tee shirt with the Vo-Tech school logo. 

He smiled at me and I knew whatever resolve I might have had was gone. He was a hairy man like Adam, my weakness. Grant was about my height with dark brown hair with short dark hair on his forearms and thick chest hair was apparent from the V-neck. The same hair covered his legs and I felt my cock begin to rise. I know I stared and I looked up into his face to see a knowing grin.

"Come on in, Chris, I'm just finishing up with the steaks out back."

I followed him out to the patio where two steaks were grilling.

"I forgot to ask how you like your steak."

"Well done preferably."

"Good," he laughed. "So do I. I like all my meats well done."

His eyes danced mischievously. I noticed that we seemed to be alone.

"Is your wife here?"

"Nah, she's over at mys. Cherie's sister is visiting and so it's like old home week for them."

"And you didn't want to go?"

"Not on your life," he laughed. "I fucked her sister Beth a few years back and we're just too uncomfortable to be in the same room together unless we have to."

"I take it your wife doesn't know?"

"Hell no. We'd be divorced if she did."

I couldn't believe he was sharing this information with me.

"Well, I hope she was worth the risk you took."

"Nope, she was a total dud but I guess you live and learn. Cherie was in the hospital having a hysterectomy and Beth came over to drop off a casserole for me. I put the casserole in the oven and fucked her on the kitchen table," he laughed. "It just happened and I'm sorry that it did but that just the way it goes sometimes, right? Your dick has a mind of its own."

I laughed with him, more at my part in this situation than his with Beth. Even though he'd seemingly pursued me for the last two years he'd always maintained his professional distance. Now all of that was gone and I wasn't sure how to react. I was a total novice with this type of relationship and he had the upper hand.

"Here, take the grilled potatoes and I'll take the steaks. We'll eat at the kitchen table."

I followed him to the kitchen, my eyes on his bubble ass. As we walked through his den I looked into the mirror to see Grant watching me as I watched his ass. His eyes were dancing with humor.

"Why don't we have lunch first and dessert later? Or are you one of those guys who eats his dessert first?"

"It's always depended on what the dessert is."

Grant laughed and put the steaks on the table.

"Well, since I cooked for you let's at least make a stab at eating the meal but...."

We put the food on the table and then Grant turned and pushed me up against the wall. Suddenly his lips were on mine and his tongue was in my mouth.

"I've wanted you for two goddamn years, Chris, and I know you want me."

"Yes, yes," I moaned. "I want you so much..."

Grant squeezed my cock through my jeans and then stepped back, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"I can see we both want the same dessert so let's eat lunch and then we can fuck."

Grant took a salad and two beers from the refrigerator before sitting down next to me. He then began to cut up his steak. He held a piece of steak in his teeth and then put his mouth to mine for me to take it. Grant and I fed each other lunch, laughing and teasing each other unmercifully. When I tried to touch him he'd slap my hand away and tell me that it wasn't time for dessert. At last we finished and he kissed me passionately. I put my hand under his shorts and discovered he wasn't wearing any underwear.

"You want to suck my peter for dessert?" he whispered. "Maybe eat my ass too?"

I nodded as he kissed my neck and nibbled my earlobes.

"Good. I want to lick your cock like an ice cream cone."

He pulled me up and led me to his bedroom, holding my hand all the way. He pushed me onto the bed and began to pull off my clothes. When I was naked I felt like my body was on fire. He slowly stripped for me, his face flushed and his eyes filled with desire. Grant's body was like Adam's and it was what had fueled my initial fantasies about him.

His cock stood hard as a rock with a pearl of his semen at the tip. He got onto the bed, his body covering mine, and he pressed his mouth over mine so hard my lips hurt. We kissed for what seemed like forever and then he rolled off me. We moved into a sixty nine position, his cock at my lips. He sucked my cock into his mouth and I almost ejaculated but he pressed my balls with his fingers and the pain slowed me.

I kissed his cock but then Grant put his leg over my head, pushing my face into his ass. I spread his cheeks and his rosebud quivered, covered by short curls. I softly kissed it and began to lick it before pushing my tongue against the opening. Grant moaned as my tongue probed his hole, his moans tantalizing my cock.

My hand was on his cock and I felt it throb. I managed to get it in my mouth before his ejaculation began. His first blast hit the back of my throat and he shot cum in my mouth repeatedly until I couldn't swallow it all fast enough. It was too much for me and suddenly I came in Grant's mouth with him swallowing each volley.

He turned so his face was over mine and kissed me. We shared the cum in our mouths and I could feel the tingle in my cock as it began to become aroused again.

"Round two," he laughed softly.

Grant kissed down my torso until he reached the tender spot beneath my balls. Then he lifted my legs to my chest, completely exposing my asshole. He began to kiss the area around it, teasing it with an occasional touch with his tongue until my cock was rock hard again and I was breathing hard. He licked my hole, probing it with his tongue, kissing it, tenderly inflaming it until I was begging him to fuck me. 

The sphincter muscle had completely relaxed allowing Grant to put two fingers in me, scissoring them and pressing against my prostate. At last he reached into his nightstand and took a tube of KY jelly out, lubing my hole and his cock. My eyes devoured his face and sexy body as it made me ready for him.

"Are you ready? I don't want to hurt you."

"Just take it slow, this is my first time."

He was shocked.

"I'm your first? You're a virgin?"

I nodded yes.

He leaned over me and kissed my lips tenderly.

"I can't believe I'm your first. Why me?" he whispered.

"You're my first man, Grant. I've been with several girls in the past but I chose you as my first man. I've been drawn to you for a long time."

"I hope I don't disappoint you, Chris. The first time can be really painful."

He kissed my face and neck as his cock pressed at my opening. He'd prepared it so well with his tongue that I didn't feel too much pressure as he slowly began to push into me. There was some initial resistance and then I felt his mushroom cock head pop into my ass. The pain hit me then and I grabbed his shoulders.

"Wait, just go real slow."

It took several minutes for his cock to fully enter me, then I felt full and complete as if we were one. Grant slowly pulled out and then squirted more lube on his cock before sliding it back in. Then he gently began to fuck me, in and out, in and out, and I began to push my ass toward him, impaling myself on his cock. He pulled his cock all the way out and then slammed it back into me as his speed increased. The only sound was our flesh as his cock entered and exited me with him slapping into my ass.

His skin became damp as a film of moisture covered him and I could smell the fresh scent of his sweat, the masculine scent of a man. I suddenly was totally overcome and my orgasm overtook me, splashing ropes of semen across my chest and stomach. My asshole tightened around his cock with each shot and then Grant moaned as he blasted his hot cum into my ass.

"YOU BASTARD FAGGOTS!"

His wife Cherie was standing at the bedroom door. Grant pulled out of me instantly and we both leapt from the bed. We frantically grabbed our clothes and began to dress.

"Chris Barrett, you little shit, just wait until I tell your father! He'll kick your ass out of his house! And you, Grant, I'm going back to Mom's and I want you out of this house by tomorrow!"


Adam



She stormed out of the room and we heard the door slam as she left the house. Grant was pale and I was shaking, fighting tears. I sat down on the bed, my head in my hands.

"I'm SO sorry, Grant. I should never have come over here, this is all my fault. I'm the one that's responsible for this, I knew you were married and somehow I knew we were going to end up in bed together. I'm SO sorry," I managed to croak out.

He didn't say anything and looked like he was in shock. There was total silence for several minutes and then I had a terrifying thought. Grant's marriage was over, his way of life ruined, and he was a proud man. I had a horrifying vision of him committing suicide with one of his shotguns. I knew I couldn't leave without some sort of resolution because I felt totally responsible.

"Grant," I said hoarsely, "please talk to me. I'll do anything you want but just talk to me."

I hadn't cried since I was eleven when I broke my arm but it was all I could do not to burst into sobs, tears of chilling fear for what might happen to Grant, to him, not me. I held it together because I knew if one tear escaped my wet eyes a floodgate would follow. In his present state Grant didn't need a weak weeping queer adding to his problems. 

I steeled myself but Grant was perceptive enough to see that my distress was at least equal to his own, maybe more because of my fear for him. I knew that my life as I knew it was over but somehow I would be able to deal with it as long as I knew he would be okay. Grant came over to me and stood with his hand on my shoulder. I pressed my face to his warm thigh and although there were no tears I could not control my shaking.

"Shhh, it's going to be okay, Chris. You'll survive this."

"Oh, Grant, you wouldn't do something stupid would you? Not something awful like shoot yourself would you? I couldn't live with myself if you did. If you're going to commit suicide you need to kill me first."

My voice was cracking and he sat down beside me, hugging me to him, and I buried my face in his neck. I felt him kissing my hair as he rubbed my back.

"It's going to be okay, Chris, I promise you I'm not planning anything stupid, I swear it."

"You swear you won't kill yourself?"

He took my face in his hands and kissed me softly.

"Listen to me, this had to happen sometime. It's been over between me and Cherie for a long time now. We were just going through the motions and she's accused me of being gay several times. I got to the point where I just stopped denying it to her."

"She KNOWS?"

"I stopped denying it to her but I never acknowledged it either. Anyway, she's been fucking Don Jackson for at least two years that I know of."

"The Baptist minister??? But he's married and he's got five kids."

"Their being married was the perfect cover for them even though I'm surprised his wife hasn't caught on yet. Of course, Marie might know and they could just be going through the motions too."

"Where will you go, Grant, where will we both go?"

"Well, I'M not going anywhere for the time being. A few months ago I had a private detective get pictures of Cherie and Don fucking at a motel in Atlanta. I plan to leave, it's been my plan for a few months now. I bought this house and I'll leave when I'm goddamn good and ready. That or I'll make those pictures public. Cherie can go to hell if she doesn't like it."

Grant was more in control of the situation than I'd thought. He ruffled my hair and grinned.

"It's touching that you blame yourself for all of this but you've got it ass backwards, Chris. I'm thirty-five and I knew exactly what I was doing. Why do you think I wore those blue jean shorts with no underwear and the tightest tee shirt I own?" he laughed softly.

I slapped his ass hard and we both laughed, two men laughing as Rome burned.

"You see, I didn't give you a chance, babe. I've wanted you for two years and I decided that I was going to have you as soon as you were no longer officially my student. I didn't expect Cherie to ruin the moment but I'd planned to ask you if you want to move to Boston with me and work with Ronnie MacPherson. We could live together openly."

"I see," I teased. "You've got our lives planned out, huh? You took an awful lot for granted, didn't you?"

"I knew when I saw you salivating over my peter in the restroom that you were mine. You want me as much as I want you," he smiled.

Grant had been planning this all along and it was as if the weight of the world had lifted off my shoulders. I knew unquestionably that my answer was yes and damn the consequences. I still was in love with Adam, he would always be my first love but he'd rejected me, made a fool of me, and that door was permanently closed. Grant wanted me and I wanted him. Our start was rocky but it seemed that we had no alternatives at that point. We needed to make the best of the situation.

"Buck up, Chris. Keep focused on the future and deal with the present as best you can. Think where we'll be in three months."

"You make it seem so simple, Grant. My father's going to kill me."

"No he won't and anyway, it's time you break the apron strings. Fuck him, fuck 'em all. You're with me now and I'M going to take care of my man." 

Some of the events that followed were as I expected, others were surprising, sometimes good and sometimes bad.

My father kicked me out of the house and barely gave me time to pack my stuff in my car. I called Adam's father to resign and went to get my last check. Bad news travels fast because he didn't seem surprised. As I walked into his office I passed Adam with two other workers standing at the secretary's desk. Adam's face was scornful.

"I think I always knew you were a queer, Chris. You were always staring at my body," he sneered.

The others laughed.

"If you always knew it Adam why were you such a good friend to me? Why did you spend the night with me so many times?"

My voice was hostile and Adam blushed.

"Jenny, give the faggot his fucking check so he can get the fucking hell out of here."

That was the last memory I had of my hometown. I went to Boston with a letter of recommendation from Grant and started working with Ronnie MacPherson in one of the most prestigious woodworking businesses in the country. A disappointment or not to my family, I was damn good making fine cabinets.

Grant exposed his wife's affair with the Baptist minister causing a scandal that deflected our own. The minister lost his church and his wife. Three months after the incident Grant received his divorce, half of everything from his marriage, and moved in with me in Boston. I'd like to say we had a happy ending but we didn't. It turned out that Grant and Ronnie had a history together and they moved in together a few months after he got to Boston. 

The breakup hurt me but I guess I'd suspected something from the beginning so I survived. After Grant left me I quit Ronnie's store and took a job at a local hospital. I'd made several elaborate pieces of furniture that won awards and netted me a total of sixteen thousand dollars on top of my regular salary. I took that nest egg and entered nursing school ultimately completing a Master's degree and becoming an Advanced Registered Nurse Practitioner.

While working at the hospital I fell in love with a neurosurgeon and we lived together for eight years until he was killed in a car accident in June. I was his only heir and he'd left me everything, over four million dollars, the house, the cars, our Chihuahua, and a broken heart. Bruce had been rich but he loved being a doctor and would never have given it up. Suddenly I was rich and I felt the same way about my nursing career.

I was completely devastated and threw myself into my work to survive because I couldn't bear to be at home without him. I was lost in my work and totally oblivious of the world outside the little city that is a hospital. Then my sister Joan called me at Thanksgiving to extend an olive branch and invite me home for Christmas.

It was eight o'clock at night when the phone rang.

"Chris, is that you?"

"Who's this?"

"Joan."

"I haven't heard from you in over ten years. Why now?"

"Dad died..."

"If that's the only reason you called, goodbye."

"WAIT, Chris! He died in August and it's taken Mom this long to get herself together without his controls. She asked me to see if I could locate you and ask you to come home for Christmas."

I was quiet so long she thought I'd hung on her.

"Joan, what's the point? I'm still a queer and I'm not going to change for her or anyone else."

I was angry, bitter, and defensive and it was all in my voice. Joan ignored it.

"She knows that, Chris, and I don't think she cares about that anymore. All she talks about is how she didn't stand up for her baby and how ashamed she is. She really needs to see you, Chris."

"Is she dying?"

"Oh, god, I hope not. No, Mom's actually turning into a real person now that she's not under Dad's thumb. She'd never say it herself but I think Dad dying was the best thing that ever happened to her."

"It's the best thing that ever happened to any of us. Period."

"Oh, Chris, you never forgave him, did you?" Joan laughed.

I enjoyed hearing her laugh. I'd missed her voice and her irreverence, I'd missed the older sister I'd been so close to throughout my childhood.

"I worked very hard to wipe him out of my life entirely, Sis. I spent three years in therapy doing it and I think it worked. I haven't thought of any of you in the last four years."

"Well, let's just be a real bitch about it, shall we? I've missed you, too."

I laughed.

"Okay, so I've thought about you since you've forced me to admit it."

"Look, let me just get this out of the way. You were treated like shit, none of us had the balls to stand up to the monster, and now that he's dead we want to mend fences."

"He's been dead four damn months. It took you that long to grow some balls?"

"Yeah, I guess so since you put it that way. So fucking shoot us all, why don't you? Mom's heart's set on you coming for Christmas, Chris, so are you coming?"

"SHE wants me to come for Christmas. What about Josh and Troy? And you?"

"We all want you to come."

"Bullshit. I'd bet you money that Josh will shit a brick when he finds out you called me."

"Chris, I don't..."

"Give it a rest, Joan. Dad was worth a couple of million, right? And the bastard left me out of the will which is why you didn't call me when he died. Mom and you three got it all and you're all scared I'll contest the will. Like I said, Josh will shit a brick and go berserk when he finds out you called me. He doesn't know, does he?"

"He and Troy are so busy since they took over the law firm..."

"Let me correct my earlier statement. You and MOM are the only ones who know you're calling me, right?"

"Chris, it'll all be okay," she whined. "You really wouldn't challenge Dad's will, would you?"

"If I say yes I'll bet the Christmas invitation is withdrawn."

"Mom doesn't care. She was pissed as hell when Dad left you out."

"Not so pissed that she gave me my share."

"CHRIS! Quit being so fucking difficult. Are you coming or not?"

"Just so you know, Sis, I don't give a fuck about Dad's money, I don't want a goddamn cent of it, and I just might come."

"You will?"

I could tell she was pleased.

"I was planning to go to Disney World during December, go to all those theme parks in Orlando, and then take a Caribbean cruise. I guess I can stop by and say hello. If all goes well, I'll stay awhile; if not, while you're freezing your ass off I'll be getting a tan in Aruba."

She burst out laughing.

"Chris, you don't know how much I've missed that catty ass of yours. So can I tell Mom that you're coming? Or, better yet, why don't you call her and tell her yourself?"

"Tell Mom that I'll come and see how it goes. And no, you tell her, I'm not calling her. She can wait like I've waited for ten fucking years."

"Well, if that's how you want to be about it...," she snickered.

"And you can tell Josh that I'm consulting with my attorneys and depending on how that goes I might be home for Christmas and bring some paperwork with me."

"He'll die before you get here if I tell him that."

"That's what I'm hoping."

We both broke up laughing.

"So tell me, Joan? How exactly DID you find me? I'm not listed in the phone book and I don't keep in contact with anyone down there."

"Tommy Singleton. He took a job in Boston and he ended up in the emergency room with food poisoning. That's where he met you and that's how we found out you're a nurse now. What happened to making furniture?"

Of course. Tommy and I had gone all through school together and he'd moved to Boston to work at the corporate home office of his employer. He'd ended up in the ER and while taking care of him he told me he was gay and deep in the closet. He said when he was offered a job in the home office he took it, figuring if Boston was okay for me that it would be okay for him.

"Right. Tommy came into the ER and then he spent a few days in the hospital. I invited him over to the house to watch a football game and have supper. That was almost a year ago and you've just gotten around to calling me?"

"Yeah, well what can I say? Anyway, he told him Mom you live in a nice big house with a rich doctor, a neurosurgeon. Dad nearly had a stroke over it."

"Oh, yeah? Screw him, it's too bad he didn't. That would've been wonderful to know, that he keeled over when he found out I was happy with another man."

"So what happened to Grant, if you don't mind my asking?"

"A long story."

"I guess you and your doctor friend were planning to take that cruise together...?"

"If that's your way of asking if I'll be bringing him home with me the answer's no. Bruce got killed in a car accident in June."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Chris."

"No, you're not. You're fucking relieved that your faggot brother won't be trying to bring his faggot lover home with him."

"You're never going to believe me, Chris, but I really always hoped that you and Grant were happy together and that you were loved."

I could almost believe her.

"Well, Grant was never meant to be but Bruce was the most wonderful man I've ever known in my life. He loved me and he made me happy every day. So if you really hoped I was loved then rest easy. I was loved by Bruce more than I ever was by anyone else."

"I'm glad for you," she said softly. "You've fared better than most."

"Except I lost him to a drunk driver. So I won't be bringing a gay lover but do you think Mom could handle me bringing my Chihuahua Angel? He's fully house broken and I don't go want to leave him with my neighbor at Christmas."

"You were going to take him to Disney World?" Joan teased.

"No, I was going to leave him with my neighbor. He's got a female Chihuahua and he wants to breed them but Bitsey can just wait. Can I bring Angel or not?"

"So I guess you're planning to stay all through Christmas after all."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Joan, I'm sure they have vets that board pets in Orlando. NOW who's being bitchy? Can I bring my goddamn dog or not? If I can't, you can all go to hell."

"Keep your shirt on, Chris, I can see you've still got a short fuse. I think Mom can handle Angel. She always wanted a little dog but Dad wouldn't hear of it."

"Do you realize how much that bastard ruined in our lives? Please tell me the goddamn town hasn't erected a fucking statue to him."

Joan giggled. "No, but they put a stained glass window in the Episcopal church."

"I'll be sure to throw a rock through it before I leave."

"So, IF you're coming, when might we expect you?"

"Well, IF I come it would be around the first week of December. I've been granted six week's leave by the hospital."

"Damn, that's a nice long vacation time. You must have good benefits."

"They owe me the leave, in fact they're begging me to leave. I've worked sixty to eighty hours in the ER every week since Bruce died because I just couldn't stand being at the house by myself. The hospital administrator practically threatened my supervisor if I didn't take some time off so I asked for six weeks."

"Oh, Chris, I really hate that you've suffered so much. If it makes you feel any better I've gotten gray hair worrying about you."

"Bullshit," I laughed. "Dad was getting gray hair when he was twenty. It runs in the family."

"So have you got gray hair? Josh is almost bald and what little has left is gray as a goose," she giggled.

"I like that, Josh bald and gray headed. He always was an old fogie with his head up Dad's ass. And no, I take after Mom's side of the family. I've got so much hair I can't see my scalp, just like always. And no gray."

"That'll frost Josh's buns, Troy's, too. He's got thick hair like yours but he's totally gray headed."

"And neither one of them's forty yet. There IS a god."

"Okay, Chris, the first week of December is only a few days away so I guess I'll be seeing you then. I need to go because my little boy Davy is starting to get antsy."

"I won't give you any specifics, Joan. Plan for me to be there and let's just let this be a surprise for Mom. You'd better be right about her wanting me to come."

"I am but what the hell? Like you said, there's always Disney World and Aruba."

The time passed quickly but then it usually does for someone who works in the ER.

It was a strange feeling driving into my hometown after having been away for over ten years. The Christmas lights and tinsel were everywhere, on the light poles, storefronts, signs, and almost every front lawn had some sort of display. I felt like I was driving into a magical Christmas world, a place where everyone knows your name and your family. Even though leaving had been bitter I'd never lost my love of my hometown. 

I was totally stressed out by the time I got into town and was relieved when I saw The Bookshop Café, a business that had not been there when I left. It was a nice place, bright and inviting with cheerful Christmas decorations. Virtually on autopilot, I pulled into the parking lot and steeled myself to run into people from my past as I entered. I needed some fortification before I drove the last mile or so to my home, scratch that, my former home.

"Welcome to The Bookshop Café, sir! What can I get you today? We've just made fresh eggnog and it's delicious."

The girl behind the counter was a pretty blonde who looked like she might be around sixteen. Her smile was infectious, the perfect person for this job. I walked up to the counter and looked at the menu on the wall behind her.

"I think I'll take you up on that eggnog," I smiled.

She looked like she would have been devastated if I'd chosen something else. As I glanced around the store I thought that there was at least one place that I could escape to if things got too tense at home.

"Take a seat at any free table, sir, and I'll bring it out to you. Would you like some pie or cookies to go with it?"

"No thanks."

As I looked at the tables I thought I recognized a familiar face so I made sure that I sat at a table with my back to him.

"I'm Darla, sir, and just call me if there's anything else you'd like."

Darla had brought me the eggnog and two Christmas cookies that I didn't order.

"I didn't order a cookie."

She winked at me.

"I know but I've got to make a fresh batch in a few minutes and no one will eat the older batch after I do," she whispered. "You look like you could use a snack."

"Just how old is the older batch?" I grinned.

"Oh, I made them about three hours ago," she laughed. "If you like it I can bring you more. I'm betting you'll love them because they're white chocolate macadamia nut."

"Thanks, Darla, they sound great."

Already I felt better. The hardest thing I had to get used to in Boston was the big city lack of personal interest in people. It was far worse than Atlanta and I told myself it was because of the cultural differences of Northerners and Southerners. I grew up used to having every store clerk or waitress ask me how my family was doing and it just didn't seem as friendly in Boston. Bruce always told me that I was nuts.




Adam



The ambience of the Bookshop Café was relaxing and a few minutes later Darla stopped by my table again.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

"Yeah, Darla, do you think you could box up about three dozen of those cookies for me?"

She laughed.

"That good, huh? I'll tell you what, I'll put your order in the oven in no time and if you'll wait twenty minutes they'll be ready and hot."

"Works for me, Darla," I laughed.

She brought me another cup of eggnog and three more cookies on the house. As I waited I thought about who would be at home. After I finished the eggnog and cookies I browsed through the book section, picking up a few magazines and an old Robert Ludlum novel. At least I'd have something to read in my room if I needed to hide. At last I got my box of cookies and then I soon turned the car toward the street where my home was.

I had thought I was prepared but the closer I got to home, the more nervous I got. As I turned into my street I didn't recognize the two cars in the driveway. The usual Santa with his reindeer stood on the front lawn. I took a deep breath and pulled into the driveway. I let Angel pee before I finally knocked on the door. A young boy around four opened the door.

"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously.

"My name's Chris. Who are you?"

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"And yet here we are."

"What's your dog's name?"

"His name is Angel."

The boy was clearly entranced by Angel.

"Does he bite?"

"Only if you hurt him. He's a sweet little baby."

Angel was squirming in my arms, trying to get to the boy.

"Would you like to play with him? I think he'd like that."

"You're a stranger and..."

"...and you're not supposed to talk to strangers."

"He's also not supposed to open the front door."

I looked up to see my sister Joan.

"So you made it, I'm so glad. Well, come in, Chris, don't stand out there in the cold. YOU might can take it but it looks like your little dog has had enough of it. It's freezing and you're letting cold air in the house," she laughed. "The weatherman says we're going to get some snow and there might be a freeze by the weekend."

"His name is Angel, Mom."

The little boy was pulling on Joan's skirt.

"Why's he calling you Mom?"

"He thinks he's being funny."

"Like when Dad thinks he's funny?"

"This is my son, Davy. He loves your dog and can't wait to get hold of him. We've got a Labrador at home and he's Davy's best friend."

"His name is Collie," Davy piped up.

"Collie?"

"He's a Lab but Davy decided he liked the named Collie because we have some friends in Decatur that have a collie."

Soon Angel and Davy were having fun together.

"The airplane pilot told us it's probably going to snow tonight and that we're lucky we flew when we did because over the next day or so some flights might be grounded. So how are you, Joan?"

"Fine, fine, how are you?"

She hugged me and pulled me toward the kitchen. I could smell cinnamon and the smell of cooking baking cookies and cakes in the kitchen. Great; and here I brought some store bought cookies home. That should go over well. Angel and Davy sat on the floor playing.

"Mom's gone over to Ruby's and she'll be back in an hour or so."

Ruby was one of Mom's best friends, the wife of Dad's partner in his law firm. I gave Joan the box of cookies.

"Chris Barrett! You bought cookies when you know Mom's baking more than we'll eat in a month."

"Oh, well," I laughed. "They're white chocolate macadamia nut and I got them at that new coffee shop slash bookstore. It's a nice place."

"Yeah, it's been here for three or four years now, I guess. It's one of the most popular places in town."

"Can I have one, Mom? I love macadamia nut cookies, you know that, don't you?"

The boy had been eyeing me suspiciously ever since I came in but the Angel and the cookies seemed to have won him over a bit.

"Who's he, Mom? I've never heard of anybody named Chris that comes to Granny's house."

"Davy, this is my brother, Chris, and he's your uncle."

"Uncle? You never told me I have an uncle named Chris!"

I had to laugh. It was as if I'd been wiped out of the family history.

"I can see the black sheep of the family was erased from the family Bible. How many nieces and nephews do I have that don't know I exist, Joan?"

She had to good grace to blush.

"I'm sorry, Chris. Dad was just so angry..."

"Let's just leave at that, shall we? Dad, Dad, Dad, everything was always about him. So now he's dead and suddenly everyone is like tulips popping up out of the dirt."

"You didn't like my Granddaddy?"

Davy seemed shocked.

"No, Davy, but that's just me and I seem to be the only one."

"I didn't like him either," he stage whispered. "He was mean to everybody."

He looked at Joan like he was afraid she'd scold him but she just laughed.

"Davy, I can see you and Chris are a lot alike. Let's get you some cookies."

We ate some cookies and Joan sent Davy off to the den with Angel to watch a DVD.

"How's David?"

David was Joan's husband, a Certified Public Accountant who managed the law practice's finances as part of his thriving business. I'd always liked him and called him David number two since Adam's brother was also named David.

"Business was kind of dry for a while but thank God we live so close to Atlanta. David gets a lot of business from the city and he teaches accounting at the community college two nights a week."

"That must cut into your home life a bit..."

"Yeah," she laughed. "After you've been married for fifteen years it's not such a big deal. Besides which, he handles the accounting business of the college now."

"And Josh? What's mini-Dad up to?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Just try to not lose your temper with him. Please. He's as sanctimonious as Dad ever was and thinks he's God's gift to the world but he's calmed down a bit since Nancy divorced him."

"Nancy left him??? Why? She's like Mom, a total doormat. How'd she get the nerve to file for divorce?"

"She caught Josh in bed fucking Lou Carlson and she had a major change of heart. She told me she suddenly realized that she was turning into another Mom and she'd rather be dead than live like that so she took Josh to court and cleaned him out."

"Serves him right. He's supposed to be the big time Perry Mason of Georgia so that must have been a blow to that ego of his. How'd he manage to get taken to the cleaners?"

"Don't forget that Nancy's father's a millionaire. He hired the best attorney money could buy and it was nasty as hell but Nancy got the kids, the house, and half of everything they owned plus alimony for the rest of her life. Josh basically had to give in or give her a percentage of the law firm."

"I'll bet that DID set him back a bit. When did this happen?"

"About a year and a half ago."

"So did he marry Lou Carlson?"

"That didn't work out too well for her either. She ended up losing her teaching job for moral turpitude so she moved back home to Chicago. Anyway, Josh says he feels like turning queer like you."

Her face went blood red and I laughed. Joan always did have a way of letting her mouth run before her brain got in gear.

"So Josh is going gay, huh?"

"Oh, for God's sake don't say that to him, Chris. He'll have a fit and the whole thing's a real sore spot with Mom. She's cried a lot because Nancy won't let her see the kids except when Josh get them for visitation."

"That's mean."

"I know, we all do but it got a little better after Nancy sold the house and moved into Atlanta. She's dating a college professor now but she says she'll never marry again. I think that's because if she marries she loses her alimony."

"Where's Josh living?"

"Oh, he bought the Eastman house over on Pine Street. It's actually nicer than his old house and he got it so Rose and Mary Kay could have a good home when they're with him."

"And Mom? How's she doing overall? She never could say boo to a goose so what's she doing now without her boss?"

"She's not doing too well, Chris. Why don't you cut her some slack, okay? This has been really rough for her. It's like you said, Mom was never able to decide what to make for dinner without Dad telling her what he wanted, and now it's like she's just begun to come out of her shell. Asking me to find you is a major step for her, it's like she's defying Dad's ghost."

"I hope she's not disappointed when she sees me. It's not like I'm the Prodigal Son."

"For her, Chris, maybe you are, who knows? Just take it easy with her. After Dad died she took your pictures out of the trunk and put them up again."

"Did you tell her you talked with me on the phone?"

"I had to, Chris, how could I not? I told her you'd probably come sometime in December but I couldn't promise it. She really has her hopes up that you'll show."

"What about Troy?"

"Troy has really changed since he married Cindy Williams. Remember Cindy's got a gay brother even if he never admits it and she's never shut up about how you were treated. Dad couldn't stand her."

I remembered Cindy. Although she'd spoken up for me, I didn't like her too much either. She was always a flag waving liberal who pushed it just a little bit too far and pissed off even those she was trying to help. I've never been a very political person, never campaigned for a candidate or marched in a parade, and I follow a rule that says never discuss religion, politics, or sex with others.

As for her brother, Randy was more feminine that most of the girls when we were in school and he got treated like shit all the time. He provided the prime example for me of the torture that goes with being gay and so I had to be more macho than any other male in Georgia.

"I can't believe Troy married her. She just doesn't seem like his type."

"That's what we all thought but they seem happy together. They had a couple of bumps in the road a couple of years back when they discovered Troy's sterile but they got over it."

"Wow," I whistled. "Who would have thought it? What happened to Troy?"

"Oh, some medical bullshit that basically ends up with the doctors can't really tell him why, maybe some fever when he was younger. Who knows? Anyway, he and Cindy don't want to adopt so that's that."

"Gee, I'd think Cindy would be all for adoption, preferably some minority child."

Joan laughed.

"Don't be bitchy, Chris. It was as much Troy's decision as hers and I think Troy just decided he doesn't want to raise some other person's child. Remember the Stein case?"

"No."

"That's right, it was after you left. Bert and Lily Stein adopted a baby and they were just crazy about him. About a year after the adoption the mother showed up and she'd married the father of the kid, the father who never consented to the adoption. Long story short, Bert and Lily lost the kid and it nearly killed them. Dad and Josh represented the Steins and it was a real stain on them to lose."

"What? Dad lost a case?"

I was being sarcastic, nasty even.

"Oh, you've REALLY gotten bitchy since you moved to Boston," she laughed.

"No, just more realistic about how the world is. You really want to go into that right now?"

"As I was saying, it was a tragedy and Bert and Lily ended up getting a divorce. Adoption's totally out of the question for Troy and Cindy."

"So why did Troy end up in the family law firm? He always swore he was going to do corporate law in Atlanta."

"Yeah, that was his plan but when Dad came down with cancer he had to come home and help take over Dad's cases. Josh couldn't handle it all and Dad asked Troy to take over for him. Alvin had had two heart attacks and Ruby refused to let him go back to work with the firm. It's a good thing because he died a week after Dad did."

The back door opened and there was Mom. She raced into my arms and burst into tears. We all ended up crying and it was as if all the bad years had pushed away into the background. Mom was so excited that I was home she kept telling me how she'd fixed my room up like it was before I left, how she'd made all of my favorite dishes, and how she wanted to make up for all the time that had passed. How could I turn down my mother's love? Only someone who lived with a domineering personality like Dad could ever understand how one person can control everyone.

"Have you been through the town yet?" she asked. "It's changed a lot since you left, Chris. I guess I should say it's changed and yet so much is still the same. Does that make sense?"

"Oh, yeah, that seems to be the case everywhere. I told Joan I'd stopped by the new Bookshop Café when I first got to town. It seems like a really nice place."

"Oh, it is, it is. The Episcopal church women's club meets there once a month and I stop by there a lot just to get coffee and a cookie."

"Watch out, Mom, those cookies will make you fat," I laughed.

"Yeah, Mom, can you believe that Chris picked up a box of chocolate macadamia nut cookies when you've made enough cookies for an army?"

"It's okay, Granny! I'M glad he did! You know I like those cookies. Mom's being mean and won't let me eat any more."

"He'd eat the whole box if I'd let him and he's already had five," Joan smiled.

"Well, even Granny can't help you there, Davy. I never let you have more than three."

Mom obviously adored her grandson.

"Well, don't worry about running out," I said. "I'll be sure to stop by and get more, you can count on it. I like them, too."

Davy beamed with happiness, such a cute little boy.

"Are you going to be able to stay through the holidays, Chris?" Mom asked anxiously.

"I have six weeks off and I'd planned to spend it all here; that is if all goes well and I don't overstay my welcome."

Mom got tears in her eyes again.

"My baby boy could never overstay his welcome in my home. Don't you even think about that; I'm just so glad that you're here, Chris."

"I thought that I was your baby boy, Granny. Chris is a grown man!

"Chris is my youngest child, Davy, and he'll always be my baby boy no matter how old he gets."

"Will I still be your baby boy?"

"Of course you will, Davy. Chris is my big baby boy and you're my little baby boy."

Josh, Troy, and Nancy came over for supper that night and although there was some tension in the air, Mom made it clear that she was glad I was home and no one should dare to cause any trouble. Josh was the most uncomfortable and we all knew it but it was like Joan had said; I think his divorce had done something for the better to his character. Troy and Nancy were easy going and friendly enough but none of the adults mattered; all went well with Davy bubbling over about his new uncle and his dog Angel. He definitely had everyone wrapped around his little finger.

I spent the first few days at home getting reacquainted with Mom and my old home. Surprisingly Mom had begun to redecorate the house, the changes gradual but most definitely there was no sign of Dad evident anywhere except in family photos. My old photos were on the wall with other family pictures and there was a warm feeling that was enhanced by the Christmas decorations and the sweet smells from the kitchen. It snowed hard the day after I arrived and the weather got much colder reminding me of Boston winters. After a week Mom sent me out to get more cookies for Davy.

Even though there was a lot of snow on the ground the Bookshop Café was crowded when I walked in. Based on the quick turnover of tables, it obviously was a crowd of people on work breaks. I browsed through the books, waiting for the crowd to thin out, afraid that someone would recognize me. Surprisingly no one did and I couldn't believe that although I'd only been gone ten years it seemed like there was no one from my old life still around. Finally I sat at a table in the corner, my back to the store, and looked out the window.

Suddenly an eggnog and three smiley faced Santa Christmas cookies appeared on the table in front of me.

"Is it okay if I sit down with you, Chris?"

I recognized the voice before I looked up at him. Adam. I felt a wave of hostility burn through me that I didn't try to disguise.

"Please?"

I don't know what it was about his face; contrition, remorse, regret, it was all written on his face and in his eyes. He hadn't said it but I knew he was sorry.

"Go ahead, take a seat," I grinned. "How could I refuse an Apache boy who's just given me Santa cookies?"

Adam sat down, his relief apparent.

"Chris, I really want to talk to you and spend some time with you but I have to get my apology out of the way first. The way I treated my best friend in the world was inexcusable and I've been ashamed of myself ever since that day. If there's even a tiny bit of forgiveness in you, would you please forgive me?"

I looked at him hard, searching for the lie, for anything that might be false but I couldn't find it. After a long few seconds I gave in.

"Okay, Adam. It took me awhile but I finally figured out that it hurts me more than anyone else to carry grudges and never let go of the anger."

"I'm so sorry, Chris. I can't say I'm sorry enough to let you know how awful I feel about it all. I even thought about trying to find you in Boston and going there to apologize but I guess I just chickened out. Joan told me about the doctor you lived with and that he died a few months ago. I'm truly sorry for your loss."

I nodded, not wanting to talk to him about it.

"Thanks, he died six months ago and I feel like I'm just beginning to come into the light again. So what about you, Adam? How's the family and the construction company?"

He shook his head and sighed.

"Dad died four years ago and I decided to sell off his equipment and close the business down. David had moved to California and when he left Dad had given him cash for the part of the business he would have inherited. So it was just me and I was three years into getting a degree in business from Emory. Good thing I sold it when I did; David got divorced and was back in town two years later, totally broke."

"But he already had his part, tough shit."

"Yeah," he laughed. "Tell that to David and to Mom. Anyway, it wasn't just that construction was in a slump, I really didn't want to be a part of it anymore. I used part of the money from the sale to finish my BA and then get an MBA. I used most of the rest to open this place."

I felt like I'd been slapped. ADAM owned The Bookshop Café??!! He saw the shocked surprise in my eyes and grinned.

"You never would have thought it, would you?"

"Not in a million years, Adam. When I left all you cared about was construction and you were interested in finished carpentry. What happened?"

"I might ask you the same. You were the star of the woodworking program and Grant told people at the Vo-Tech that you'd gone to work for some big furniture guru in Boston. Now, Joan says you're an ARNP."

"What can I say, I always loved the medical field. Granny Barrett was a nurse and I guess she passed it on to me. Anyway, Grant left me for the great guru as you called him and there was just no way that I could go to work every day and see the two of them together."

"Oh, good God, that bastard! After all the shit you went through he left you for the guy he recommended you to. What a total shit hill."

"Yeah," I laughed. "Ain't love grand?"

"So what did you do?"

"I took a job as a technician at the hospital. It wasn't much, all I did was transport patients from their room to the lab or x-ray or wherever the orders said. Then I dated a guy who was a nurse and the next thing you know I was in nursing school. It turns out that I'm really good at it so I ended up with a Master's in nursing and working as an ARNP in the emergency room."

"It seems kind of funny how both of us were into woodworking and neither one of us does it for a living now. Do you ever do any woodworking at all? You were really good with those cabinets and desks, Chris."




Adam



We weren't supposed to meet. That was what we agreed to when we started chatting. No exchange of any real identifying information. Just email tag throughout the day. I couldn't admit out loud how much I wanted you to show up. Just drinks at some dive bar out of the way where no one would recognize you. That's what we'd agreed to when we decided that maybe we needed more than email ... at least once. We were adults. Temptation or not, we set our boundaries and we would stick to them. Just one meeting. That's all. Nothing else.

And yet, after an awkward start, you walked me to my car, stood a little too close as I put the key in the lock and pulled the door open. I didn't want to say goodnight. I lost myself in every fantasy we'd ever shared about the back seat of a car. More than anything, I wanted you to pull open the back door, slide inside, and wait for me to join you.

But you didn't. You just leaned in, your chest pressed to my back, and let your hands move to my hips. I wanted you then. Knew that if you asked me to touch you, if you asked me to climb into the back seat with you, if you asked to go back to my hotel room, I would say yes. For a moment, I thought you might lean in, pull my hair back away from my neck, and kiss me there in that spot you know drives me crazy because I told you a hundred times in our emails.

"It would be easy to be bad." Your voice was a low rumble just past my ear. I could feel you pressed hard at the small of my back, and I let myself sink against you, if for no other reason than to commit that feeling to memory—to keep it for the next time I played alone, thinking about you.

"We don't have to be bad. Just meet for a drink. That's what we said." As much as I wanted to savor the feel of you pressed against me, I took a step away and turned to face you. We both wanted it. There was no doubt in my mind. The one drink we'd allowed ourselves to have had lasted too long, and every time our eyes had met, I could see every email exchange playing behind them. Every dirty thought. Every confession. Every picture. Even then, in the cold night air, I felt my face flush.

"You want to. So do I," you'd said, and you reached out to push my hair out of my face, "We shouldn't." Then you reached for my hips again and pulled me against you. I don't think I'd ever wanted anyone as much as I wanted you then, and you knew it. Could see it in my eyes, the way I barely breathed as my hips pressed into yours, the way I bit my bottom lip to keep from kissing you, the way my hands trembled as I pressed them to your chest and folded into your embrace.

"Then I should go now," I said, and immediately regretted the words. I wanted to stay. Even if that was all we did. Just stood there, under the clouds and the streak of moonlight that peaked down from overhead. We wouldn't have to say a word. I could let my thoughts wander, get lost in another fantasy, the email I'd probably share with you that night after crawling into bed alone.

I don't know why I did what I did next—why I let one hand slip down between us until my palm was pressed against you. When you groaned, I was tempted to wrap my hand around you as much as I could, stroke just a little, but I pulled away and shoved my hands into my pockets.

I felt the key card for the first time all night, and turned it over in my hand as my thoughts raced.

"You don't have to come, and if you don't, it doesn't have to change things, but I understand if it does," I'd said, and reached out to put the key card in your hand.

**********

I looked at the clock on the bedside table, feeling vulnerable in the skirt and stockings as I crossed my legs again. Twenty minutes had passed since I'd walked through the door and rifled through my suitcase for the one thing I shouldn't have packed. Now, I sat here waiting, wondering if you'd come through that door or if I'd wake up in the morning to find an email on my phone that said we had crossed a line, and it was better not to speak to each other again. Maybe this was a mistake. Impulsive. I gripped the sides of my chair and debated whether I should just crawl into bed and hope for sleep, or wait a few more minutes. This was stupid. Reckless. I knew better, and even still, my thoughts wandered to what I'd felt in the parking lot. The heat of you pressed into me, the deep rumble of your voice, your hands on my hips.

Those hands.

Every time I heard footsteps in the hallway, my heart raced. I watched the yellow stream of light that slipped under the doorway, waiting for a shadow to fall there. When it did, I could hardly breathe. The room began to spin, and heat crept down my cheeks, along my neck and into my chest. For a long time, you just stood there, and I knew you were still undecided. You were there at the door, probably with the key card in hand, still trying to talk yourself into or out of whatever had brought you to my door.

When the quick beep of the lock sounded through the room, I sat up straight in my chair and waited. You pushed the door open, and our eyes met in the brief yellow haze of light that stretched across the room as the door closed behind you. Neither of us can speak, and even as shy as I am, as vulnerable as I feel in that moment, I can't tear my gaze away from yours. I don't know what I expect of you. You're standing in my hotel room, staring down at me, and I still expect you to turn around and walk out, not a word spoken.

Your gaze falls over me, taking in every detail. The button-up sweater that clings to my curves. The little black pleated skirt we'd talked about before. Black thigh-highs, shiny stilettos. The glasses perched on the end of my nose. Hair pulled back. I tugged at the hem of the skirt, feeling both foolish and sexy at once. I'd packed the skirt, everything, hoping for this exact moment, even if I couldn't admit it to myself.

As you look over me, I let my gaze fall, too, looking for any sign that you want me as much as I want you in this moment. We haven't touched since the parking lot, but I can see you're hard already, straining against your pants. Your jaw clenches, and I watch as you reach down to touch yourself.

"Tell me what you want," you say, and your coat slides to the floor. Still, you haven't crossed the room, haven't moved three feet from the door, until you see me start to squirm in my chair. I'm already wet, and you know it. You take a few steps along the length of the room, gaze never leaving me and my spot in the chair. There's no doubt in my mind you want to touch me, that you want me to trade you places, to see me walk around just out of your reach, watch the way the skirt moves with every step I take, to study my curves in motion, slowly start to peel away the sweater.

"I want you. I want you to take control, tell me what you want, command me to do it, touch me, tease me, any way you want to. I won't say no, I won't say stop." My face flushes as the words settled between us. Never had I been so bold, so open, about what I wanted—what I needed.

"If I tell you to get on your knees and open your mouth?" you challenge, jaw still clenched as you rub your hand over your pants.

I don't hesitate. Without a word, I slide down from the chair and drop to my knees. I look up at you and open my mouth like a good girl.

"Crawl to me on your hands and knees."

My face turns red, but I don't hesitate to follow your directions. I lean down, arch my back, and slowly start my way to you, never letting my gaze leave yours. When I stop in front of you, I can feel how much you want me. It's palpable in the room, your desire, that disbelief that this is actually happening, that after all this time, we're here like this, so close to finally having one another.

"On your knees, unzip me, and open your mouth again."

I do as I'm told, stretching upright, leaning back on my thighs as I reach out to unzip your pants. As I pull the zipper down, I meet your gaze once more and open my mouth. I still expect you to change your mind, to walk out at any moment, leaving me alone. You reach through your fly and expose yourself.

"And if all I want is to fuck your mouth until I cum?" A little grin tugs at your lips as you reach out and grab me by the hair, daring me to be offended, to hesitate just a second, to give you one reason to think this, we, are a bad idea.

I open my mouth wider. You love this game almost as much as I do. Your hand untangles from my hair, and you nod at me, urging me to take you in my mouth without saying a word. Using only the tip of my tongue, I reach out for you, wrapping my hand around your shaft as I lick along the head, slow and wet. You groan, and for the first time, your gaze shifts from me as you throw your head back. Every muscle in your body tenses with expectation, waiting for me to wrap my lips around you, to ease you into my mouth, take you as deep as I can. Instead, I swirl my tongue just around the tip, focusing on the ridge where the head meets the shaft. I press my tongue against the underside of the shaft and move slowly down until I've licked every exposed inch. I press my lips there and work my way back up, letting my teeth graze just a little along the way until I'm back to the tip.

When I look up at you, you're staring back down at me, mouth snarled a little, hands in fists as you fight the urge to take me by the hair and slide my mouth over you until I start to gag. Still looking at you from over my glasses, I stick my tongue out and tap the head against it before wrapping my lips around you. I suck against you, just enough to create a little pressure, as I slowly slide you deeper, tongue swirling along the underside of your shaft. You groan again, and this time, you can't help but reach for my hair, pulling me against you until I can't take you any deeper. I hold you at the back of my throat and ease back along your shaft until my mouth is at your tip again. Each time I start to take you deeper, you press into me, desperate for me to wet every last inch of you. I work a little faster, let my hands travel up the back of your thighs, and when I have your cock in my mouth as deep as you think I can take you, I pull you into me a little more, shaking my head from side to side until I start to gag on you. You pull me away, my mouth leaving you, but a string of saliva still connecting us as you look down at me.

Again, you plunge into my mouth, forcing me to take you as deep as I can, moaning every time I shake back and forth, grunting each time you pull my mouth from your cock. Over and over again until you're so close to cumming that your body aches. I can feel it, the way your muscles tense, the way that snarl turned into a grimace, the question in your eyes each time our gazes meet, wondering where you're going to finish. Maybe across my face, or holding me so tight against you that I couldn't pull away even if I wanted to as you release down my throat. Or you could tear the sweater, finally see what I'm wearing beneath it, and let yourself go across my chest.

You force yourself deep into my mouth one last time. I can feel you on the verge of exploding, and when you pull away this time, your free hand comes up to start stroking, furious and fast, desperate to cum. I open my mouth, stick out my tongue and wait, watching your expression as you get closer and closer—sweat on your brow, the flush of heat that colors your face, that grimace of excruciating pleasure.

And you cum, your hand tightening in my hair, jerking my head back just a little as your load shoots across my mouth, down my chin, over my cheek. So much. Warm. You squeeze a few more times, milking every last drop as the tension eases from your muscles, the grip on my hair loosens. Our eyes meet once again, and I can see you're both embarrassed and aroused—the same as me. You pull me in a little closer and press your cock into my mouth a few more times. I let my tongue swirl around you, once again, sucking with just a little pressure as you pull out of my mouth for the last time. Using the tip, you run it across my face, swiping the cum from my chin and cheek, into my mouth. You smile as I swallow and lick my lips.

"Should I get your coat for you?" I ask, and push to my feet. I can feel your eyes on me as I walk around you and very deliberately bend only at the waist to pick your coat up off the floor. I know you can see my panties—purple lace shorts—can feel you taking in every detail; the way the skirt leaves nothing to the imagination in that position, the thigh-highs I know drive you crazy, the stilettos. It's only been a minute, but I can already feel how ready you are for act two, how much you want it. I hear your footsteps, but you're moving away from me.

"I want you to walk over here and straddle my lap."

When I turn around, you're seated in the chair, still exposed, and already hard. I give you my most innocent look, as if I have absolutely no idea what you might expect of me. I drop your coat along the way, never letting my eyes leave you as I slowly cross the room. Standing before you, I take a wide stance and lower myself over your lap. Immediately, your hands are around me, gripping my bottom, pulling me into you. You move my hips, sliding me back and forth over the length of you, and you smile when you notice how wet my panties are.

"I haven't even touched you yet, my dirty girl," you say, your voice just a husky growl, "take off that sweater."

I do as I'm told, using both hands to unbutton the sweater, slowly, peering at you from over my glasses, almost lost in how good it feels to be so close to you, so close to finally feeling you inside of me. You move me a little faster, one hand sliding back to the front to pull my panties aside. You hold still, no longer moving me along the length of your shaft. You're teasing, prolonging the moment I get to feel all of you. I peel the sweater back, already breathless with anticipation, and let it fall to the floor beside us. The dark purple bra cups each breast, and your gaze is lost there in the dark lace.

How many pictures have we shared? How many times have you stared at this part of my body in those pictures, and wished that you could tear the bra away, feel how soft my skin is, run your tongue over my nipples, sink your teeth into the soft curves just enough to make me draw in a breath? I lean in a little, making sure to press my breasts together in the movement, teasing you as much as you were teasing me. I want to feel your hands on me. I start to shift my hips over you, wanting to feel you gliding along my lips, wanting you to feel how wet I am.

Your hands move from my bottom to my hips, up along my waist and to my breasts. You squeeze, letting your palms fall over the lace and your fingertips dig into the exposed flesh. A groan escapes your lips as you use a fingertip to tug down one cup. My nipple is already erect as you lean in to take it in your mouth. Now it's my turn to groan, loving the way your tongue flicks along the sensitive flesh, your teeth nibble just a bit, the way your grip tightens as you suck a little harder. I can feel your cock pressed hard between my thighs, but my panties have slid back into place, all I want is to reach down with one hand, pull them to the side, and guide you inside me with the other.

You move to the other breast, leaving the first half exposed. Again, you swirl your tongue around the nipple, squeezing with one hand as your teeth bite down. I gasp and sink down over you, so close to an orgasm of my own and you haven't even touched between my legs. I let my hand glide down your chest, your stomach, until I can wrap my hand around your shaft. You're so hard again, throbbing at my touch.

"Good girls only touch when they're told, Elizabeth." You chuckle as you pull your mouth from my breast and take both in your hands. You wait for me to let go. I want to touch you. I want to feel you. Not being able to is driving me crazy. I want to squirm, desperate to feel you, even if it's only your cock sliding over my panties. "Spit on my cock and show me what that manicure looks like as you stroke me."

I do as I'm told, pulling you out from under my skirt, and letting a string of saliva fall from my lips, down to the tip of your cock, my gaze never leaving yours. I love it when you look at me like that, like you're still waiting for me to tell you that I'm done with this game, that I thought I wanted to be your dirty girl, but it's not as fun as I imagined, that the quiet, shy girl the world sees, is exactly who I am in the bedroom, too.

I grip you a little tighter, sliding my hand up and down your shaft, pressing my fingertips into the underside on the stroke down, and easing my grip on the way up. Faster. Slower. Tighter. Just index finger and thumb. Both hands. Again, you're so close, and I can't help but wonder how you're going to make me take it this time.

"Is this what you think about when you play all by yourself? When you tease me with those emails?" you ask as one hand slides down between my legs. I can feel your fingertips creeping along my inner thigh, teasing, prolonging the moment you touch me. When you sweep the panties aside and run your middle finger along my lips, I can't help but groan, so distracted by the feel of your hand between my legs that I can hardly keep a hold of your shaft. My movements slow, the pressure eases and I murmur yes and nod my head. You slip one finger down into the wetness, and smile as I close my eyes at the touch.

"You really do get soaking wet, don't you?" You chuckle again and let your hand slide away. I bite my bottom lip and open my eyes, pleading with you to touch me again, ready to beg if you ask me to. I'm ready to beg now. Again, I nod and manage to mutter a yes. I watch as you raise your hand, your middle finger elevated above the others, and slide it into your mouth. Your eyes close as you wrap your lips around it, as if you're savoring the taste. A smile spreads across your lips as you pull your finger away. Again, you let it find the cleft between my thighs, work your way down to the warm wetness, and let your fingertip brush through the heat. When you push it inside, every muscle tenses around you. Short and shallow at first, just teasing me. I start to grind my hips against your hand, needing more of you, so close to cumming myself that my thoughts only dance between how much I need you to touch that one spot and hoping that you don't make me stop.

My grip on your shaft tightens. The closer I get, the closer I want you to be. I stroke you harder, faster, grinding my hips over you. You love that I can't get enough of you, and I know you want to tell me to stop, to remember you're the one in control and you'll let me cum when you're ready for me to, but maybe you like this too much, knowing that as I'm working your cock, and you're fingering me, I'm so close to the edge that I can't stop myself from grinding against you, wanting more, needing more. Your fingertip brushes against that spot and I sink down a little deeper, groaning. Again, you sweep over it, knowing you've found it. You press a little harder, and I work my hips a little faster.

I can hear you breathing, can feel your cock pulsating at my touch, ready to explode. I lean over and let a little more saliva drop from my lips to the head, and work faster. You slide two fingers inside, plunging deeper, stroking harder. My body starts to tremble. You can feel it. Every muscle quivering. My breath short and shallow. The way I tighten around your fingers in anticipation. So close. I'm dripping wet now, and I can feel the pressure building in you. You want to cum at the same time. That ache is there again, I can sense it. I grind harder, and when you brush past that spot, I can't take it anymore. My whole body starts to convulse, I'm pulsating around your fingers, trembling as you wiggle your fingers just a little more, and I work your shaft faster, harder, can feel you ready to explode.




Adam and Amber



Adam's Story

Birthdays! Normally I really don't mind them, but this next one is going to be the pits! The next one is going to be one of the birthdays which have a zero at the end of it. This is the one I've really been dreading, this it the birthday that makes me 60! Even the sound of it seems old. Every time I drive, the speed limit signs keep reminding me, 60 ... 60 ... 60! It's not that I feel old; it's just that when other people hear that number, they think old! I am really trying not to let this all get to me, but I do find that I have periods of depression if I reflect on it too long. And when I am feeling badly, I do what makes me feel better; I go for a walk on the beach.

I live on the coast of Oregon and because I have had a fair amount of luck in the business world, I am now able to enjoy myself. I have to drive up to Portland a few times a month to take care of business affairs, but most of the time I am out here living on the beach. I have two dogs that also love the beach and we do spend a lot of time walking or running down the beach. 

I have spent enough time here now that many of the seagulls know me. Normally I don't tell people that I communicate with the seagulls as people then think I am a bit strange. Well, I guess most people would think I am strange, but for other reasons, but when you tell folks that you speak seagull and that the gull's communicant back with me, it tends to frighten them. The reason I know I can communicate with the gulls is they seem to know when something washes up on the beach I would find of interest. When I start my walks on the beach, if the gulls have found something, they will come and either run in front of me making screeching sounds, or other noises, until I start to follow them. 

I had a flock of them lead me down the beach one day; much farther then I had ever walked before, where I found a large pleasure boat had been washed up on the shore from the big storm the night before. When I climbed aboard, I found two people who had been hurt by the freak storm and were unable to move. I was able to contact the Coast Guard who flew a chopper in and air lifted both of them to a hospital. Since the boat was located in a very deserted area of the coast, and a long way from my house, the Coast Guard wanted to know how I found the boat. Needless to say, I lied and told them one of my dogs got lost and as I was searching for it, I found the boat. I didn't think I needed to tell explain to them the seagulls took me there!

A couple of days ago my closest neighbors moved away. He was an artist and she was a writer. They have lived in the old house for several years but their children live back on the Eastern side of the country and they wanted to be closer to them. I really hated to see them leave. We had become really good friends over the years. I have several of his paintings in my house and she had written a really neat book one time and had used me as one of her characters. I know that I am really going to miss them a lot. They told me that the house was sold and that a very nice young woman has purchased it. I found it odd that a young person would want to live out here. There is not a lot of night life here ... actually there is none. I have a satellite for the television and because of the frequent power outages; I have a large power generator to keep the fridge and the freezer running. Needless to say, my place is rather remote all things considered.

The next day was moving day for the house next door and I watched the van pull up. A short time later a car arrived and I watched as a young lady started giving directions to the moving people. I considered going over and introducing myself, but I thought that she was going to be very busy and I would have plenty of time later for introductions. Later as I was getting ready to take my run down the beach with the dogs, I saw here standing out in her front yard staring out at the sea. The breeze was blowing her hair and her clothing was molded against her body, showing me what a lovely figure she had. I stood and watched her for a moment, thinking about what a lovely sight she made, how sensual the moment was. Her breasts were full and lovely and her skirt was pressed tight enough against her pubic area that I could see her entire body in complete relief. It was a stunning picture. 

I finally shook myself and laughed. Here I was, just a few days from 60 and I was standing there drooling over a woman that had to be young enough to be my daughter. If she had seen me, she probably would have though me quite the pervert. Some people would think that anyway, considering my life style and some of my beliefs, but I really did not want this lovely young woman to fear her neighbor as some sort of a pervert. 

As I turned to get the dogs, I noticed the young lady raise her hand and wave at me. I was very embarrassed that she had caught me staring at her. As the dogs and I took off down the beach, my thoughts wandered back to my new next door neighbor. I had not had a really good chance to look at her face, but the body ... well, the body was wonderful. Suddenly my thoughts snapped back to reality and I remembered just how old I was. "You old fool," I thought, "that child is young enough to be your daughter. She is not going to be interested in some old fart like you. Now get your mind out of the gutter!" I still noticed as I ran with the dogs, my mind kept returning to the lovely vision of her standing in the wind. It really had been a very erotic sight.

               ~~~

              Amber's Story

Amber could not believe her good fortune to have found this house on the for sale market. It was so much more than she could have ever hoped for and as she stood out in her new front yard and just enjoyed the view of the ocean spreading out before her, Amber couldn't help but ponder all the changes of direction that her life had taken in the last couple years that had brought her to Oregon and to this wonderful new house.

At 30, some would say that she should be settled down and not looking for any kind of "new" things, but for her the choice to still be searching for something was in many ways her own decision and in other ways had been taken out of her hands. She felt that she had honestly attempted to be the settled down person that everyone believed she should be. But the fact of the matter was; she did feel that something was missing in her life and there was no way she could find it back home.

She had grown up in a small town off the coast of Georgia, and had married a man from the small town as well. She reminisced how they had been happy for a while, and that she felt her life had been heading in the "right" direction for herself, but then those little "lovers quarrels" began to last a lot longer. She could no longer deny her need to maybe let go of her home town and live life in a new way and a new place.

She told her husband what she wanted and he laughed at her, stating that "he would never leave home" and eventually she gave up the idea of her moving to a new place. Even when the arguments became more heated, she still figured they were stuck together. No one ever gets a divorce in a small town because then your "dirty laundry" is hung out for the entire world to see.

Their arguments were silly in hindsight, and even Amber was able to realize it. Often it was due to something lame (house wasn't clean enough, that she didn't have sex as much as he wanted, or any other small thing like that) and no matter how much she seemed to try to make things right, it always ended up going wrong. She finally confessed to him that she wanted a divorce, small town life or not, she wanted out of the town, and if need be out of the marriage.

He didn't mind, and told her without a moment's hesitation that it was fine with him, they would sell the house and split the money and then the two of them would be free of each other. It was later that Amber heard through the small town gossip he had been having an open affair for the past 5 months and he wanted a quick end to the marriage to pursue an open relationship with the other woman. Not only that, they were moving to the town where she grew up in North Carolina.

With the divorce and the sale of her home in Georgia, Amber closed her eyes and spun a world globe, to pick where she would move to if it was possible. Where ever the spinning globe stopped and her finger landed, short of out of the United States, she would see if there was a reasonable chance of moving there. Oregon was on the fourth spin and she jumped on the Internet to see what she could find out about it. Soon after, she contacted a realtor to see what kind of housing was available she could afford on her half of the sale.

Sure that the people back home thought she was crazy for doing so; she then took a plane heading west, and shortly after, managed to find a realtor whom had listed a house on the Oregon Coast. The people who owned it previously seemed rather saddened to be leaving it behind, but due to family issues they really felt they needed to move east.

The one time Amber met them, an accidental meeting at the realtor's office, they had assured her that she would be happy living there, "as long as she didn't mind being out by yourself." Amber assured them that it was not an issue for her.

They had spoken highly of the house, and could tell her what repairs they had made to it since they had purchased it. They also spoke highly of different restaurants located within a "reasonable" distance and of the few neighbors they had there. One neighbor was mentioned most often though and they assured her that if she ever needed anything, he would be more than happy to be of assistance.

So, Amber applied at the bank for a loan to cover the cost of the house she didn't have the cash for. They were willing, due to her credit history, the fact she had bought a car and had a good record, being her only help with getting a loan that she felt she could manage.

Now standing in her own yard, looking out at the ocean view, feeling the breeze molding the soft clothing against her body, she felt that at last she was free to do as she wanted to do. Free to explore her self in all the ways she had before only dreamed of doing.

The silence around her, as well as the thoughts she was having, were ended abruptly by the sound of a screen door slamming closed and Amber jumped slightly turning to find out where the noise had come from.

It was the next door neighbor, a man standing on his porch with his dogs. He was looking at the door as if wondering why it had made so much noise and then he turned to look in her direction. She guessed that he was in his mid 50's and wondered if this was the neighbor that the seller had spoke so highly of.

From a distance, he seemed to have what she considered a friendly face and she looked forward to maybe getting to know him a little bit. She also took note of the fact that though he seemed much older than her self, from this distance, he still retained the rugged good looks that he had probably had when he was younger and some how felt sure that she wouldn't be disappointed when she saw him up close either. 

She felt odd standing there staring at him and so she raised her hand to wave.

                ~~~

              Adam's Story

Weeks passed, I would see my new neighbor fairly often and I kept meaning to get over and introduce myself. Actually, I didn't really trust myself. That first day's vision of her standing in the wind was burned in my memory and I didn't want to upset her. 

It was a Tuesday, I remembered because I needed to get to Portland that day. I was half dressed and I heard my two dogs barking and running through the house. They would bark once in a while, but not like this. Finally I had to see what was causing all the fuss. I opened up the back door and there was a strange dog in the middle of my garden. I have no idea what the dog was looking for, but it had dug up a fair amount of the flowers on one side and I shouted at it to go away. It tuned and looked back at me and kept digging. Just as I got to the garden, a movement to my side caught my attention and when I looked, there was the young lady from next door. She was red in the face and she started to shout at the dog. Finally she got the dog under control and as she pulled it past me, she looked up at me and panted, "I am so sorry. I just got the dog a few days ago and I am so sorry. Oh God, your garden is so ... I am so sorry ... Please ..." I held up my hands and shook my head.

"It's OK! Really! I have dogs and I know that you can't always control them. It really is OK!"

"But your garden ..."

"It can all be fixed. Now please stop ...it is OK!"

"But I am so embarrassed ... this was not how I wanted us to meet."

"Well, I guess I could say the same ... I keep meaning to come over and introduce myself but I never seem to get around to it."

"I'm the new person here, I should have come over. Anyway, my name is Amber. Amber Wish. Not my real name ... it was just after the divorce ... I wanted a new last name." I got the feeling that she could not believe she was telling me all of this.

I smiled at her as I extended my hand. "My name is Adam. Adam MacGregor." 

Amber took my hand in hers and I noticed that my hand totally engulfed hers. It was warm and I liked the way her hand fit into mine. "I am pleased to meet you Mr. MacGregor."

My smile faded a bit as I replied, "Adam ... please call me Adam. I have been feeling a bit old lately and being called Mr. MacGregor really makes me feel over the hill."

"Adam, you are not old ... I have seen you running with your dogs on the beach. Do not call yourself old ... please?" The last sentence came out as a question.

"OK ... look, I have to drive up to Portland today. How about you make it up to me about your dog tearing up my garden by coming over tomorrow evening and share a glass of wine and perhaps a bite to eat?"

"Adam, it is I who should have you over for wine and dinner, but since you asked first ... what time?"

"Tomorrow at 6!"

"I'll be there."

All the way to Portland, I had a big grin on my face. I was actually embarrassed with some of the thoughts I was having about my lovely neighbor, but I had to admit, she really was lovely to look at ... and then there was that body! Oh yes ... I still remembered the wind swept day when I first saw her standing in her front yard. 

               ~ ~ ~

I prepared a couple of my favorite dishes. I had gone through my small wine cellar and selected what I thought would be a good wine to have with dinner. I made sure that the house was cleaned since I did not want Amber to think I was a poor housekeeper. At the appointed hour, there was a knock at the front door. Since I wanted the evening to be dog free, I had locked the dogs in the garage out back of the house. When I opened the door, I was stunned by her appearance. Amber was wearing a dress that molded itself to her as if the wind was pushing against it. Her nipples were hard and visible from the walk from her house to mine. After a moment, I realized that I was just standing there gawking at this lovely young woman standing in my door way. I quickly stepped back and invited her in. 

The evening went well. Amber enjoyed the wine so much that I pulled another one from my stock. Several times during dinner she complimented me on his skills as a cook. She asked me if I had ever been married and I told her of the lingering illness that my wife had endured and of her passing. I noticed that Amber quickly glossed over her marriage. She did tell me how she had found out that he was having an affair with a woman in their small town and after she found that out, she understood why they had had sex even less then at the start of their marriage. As she told me about the small Georgia town she had left, I felt that she was finding it easy to talk and share these parts of her life with me. I asked her if she missed home and she told me occasionally. For the most part however, she was happy to be gone and she really liked living by the ocean. 

She went on to explain that back in Georgia she had always wanted something different. Amber told me that it really had frustrated her; she kept telling husband that she wanted to experience new things; she kept telling him she wanted to grow. I asked her if she could explain exactly what she meant by grow. She blushed slightly and replied, "I felt stifled back home. I wanted to see more and experience more. Part of it was I was tired of just having sex a couple of times a week and that was done just as fast as we could do it." Amber turned even redder, "I can not believe that I just told you that. It has to be all the wine. And I can see that I need to go home now! God only knows what I'll tell you next." We both laughed. I stood and extended my hand to help her out of her chair and as she stood, she seemed to stumble and fall against me. I didn't know if it was on purpose or if she was just unsteady because of the wine. I held her for a moment and then let her go. "Come on," I told her, "I'll walk you home to make sure you get there safely."

We walked hand in hand to her house and at her front door, she looked up at me. "Thank you for a lovely evening. I had a great time and you really are a wonderful cook."

"Does this mean you would do it again?

"You bet."

As I walked back home, I found myself humming. I couldn't remember the last time I had hummed to myself. And then it hit me ... "you old fool, she is young enough to be your daughter!"

               ~~~

             Amber's Story

"I can't believe I told him all that stuff." Amber said out loud to her house in general after she closed the door after saying a final "Good night" to Adam. "I will have to apologize to him for discussing things like that. Lest he think I am some easy woman trying to throw myself at him." she said as she continued her conversation with the room. 

Rogue, the new flower garden destroying dog she had acquired, finally interrupted her one sided rant. Upon hearing her voice and realizing his friendly person had returned home, he came over and demanded she pet him for a while, as well as take him out for a late night walk.

Amber had to chuckle at his enthusiasm as Rogue wagged his tail and danced around her legs. "Well at least you are not concerned about the things that I probably shouldn't have said." She told Rogue as she led him out of the house.

She waited on him to do his doggie things and then called for Rogue to come back inside. For a moment she had forgotten about the things she had admitted to Adam as she watched over Rogue, but now back inside and stripping off her dress, she wondering slightly why she had chosen to wear that dress for dinner with her neighbor anyway, and she continued to prepare herself for bed. 

The last thing she thought as she drifted off to sleep was of Adam and the things she had confessed, and almost confessed, to him during the wonderful dinner he had prepared. She wondered if one day soon she should invite him over for dinner as well.

She awoke later, not by a noise or anything that simple, but due to a slight ache inside her breasts and her hands lying over top of them, pinching the nipples slightly. She also had a slight ache in her stomach and she knew it was due to rising arousal.

It took a few moments, but soon she remembered what it was she had been dreaming of when she awoke, and her face turned an unappealing shade of pink and she removed her hands from her breasts as if she had been doing something shameful. In fact, she was only shocked and not sure really how to continue on with her wandering hands. She couldn't remember all the details leading up to it; she just knew it had been explicit. She did remember that she had been lying on the bed and her hands had been tied, tightly but not uncomfortably, above her head; one of the things she had always desired to have done. She also recalled there had been a man tweaking and teasing her nipples. Amber didn't see the man who had tied her at first, but just before she woke up, it was Adam's face she saw standing over her and it was his fingers pinching and tugging on her nipples.