0 comments/ 149764 views/ 5 favorites After the Storm By: Brian When my aunt asked me to keep an eye on my 18-year-old cousin, I never dreamed we'd wind-up in bed together. Michelle's parents were going away for a week, but Michelle didn't want to go. So I was asked to stop by and check up on her from time to time. They didn't need to ask twice. Even though, were act like brother and sister, I would catch myself checking her out every now and then. Michelle is petite with a lean body and reddish-blonde hair. When puberty hit her, her tits went from small peaks to firm, hard mounds. The day Michelle's parents left, she asked if I would take her and some friends swimming over at our grandfather's. I didn't have a problem with it, so we went to get her friends. As soon as we got to our grandfather's house, Michelle makes a mad dash into the house to change into her bathing suit. I told the other girls where they could change and headed in to the backyard with my suit. I went into the utility shed and took off my clothes. It was a little breezy and I started to sport a massive hard-on. I was pulling on my suit and caught some movement out of the corner of my eye. Pulling my suit all the way up, I went outside to the pool just in time to see Michelle dive into the pool. One second she was wearing the skimpiest, hot-pink string bikini I had ever seen, and the next her top was open and her bottom was floating in the pool. Frantically, she recovered her suit, but in that instant, I saw how the chilly water had stiffened her nipples and how trim her reddish-blonde muff was. Just as she put her suit back on, her friends came out of the house and jumped into the pool. Nothing else happened after that, but I couldn't get the image of my cousin's sexy body out of my mind. When everyone was done swimming, I took everyone to one of the girl's house for a sleep over. Two nights later, Michelle calls after a bad thunderstorm goes through, and tells me that the power is out in her neighborhood and asked me to come over. When I got there I saw some faint light in the house and knocked on the door. Michelle called from her room for me to come in, and that if I was thirsty, there was cold stuff in the fridge. On my way to the kitchen, I noticed that some burning candles all over the house giving off the scent of strawberries. I went and got a wine cooler from the fridge and went down to the family room to get comfortable. I sucked down my drink and needed another. I heard Michelle coming down from her room and asked her to get me another "cooler" before she came to the family room. I was standing there thinking back to the other day at the pool and how sexy Michelle looked, when I turned around and there she was in a so-shear baby pink nighty holding my wine cooler. Right away I was getting a rock hard-on, and of course Michelle couldn't miss seeing it. She pushed me onto the sofa and handed me my drink. The whole time I was staring at her body. Then out of reflex, I reached up with my free hand, and cupped her firm, pert tit. I started to gently squeeze it, and was flicking the nipple with my thumb. Michelle started to unzip my fly and pulled my pants down to my knees, and my penis sprang to attention. Trying to shake out of my trance, I took a swig of my drink and spilled some, coating myself. I started to get up to clean myself up, when Michelle pushed me down and said she'd do it for me. Then she bent down and wrapped her luscious lips around my member and started to bob her head up and down. I couldn't believe that my cousin was sucking my dick like a pro. She was running her tongue up and down the underside of my dick. Then she started going faster. The feeling was unbelievable. I put my free hand on the back of her head to help her, but realized she didn't need it. I started to feel a tingle in my balls and told her I was going to cum. That just made her go faster. I couldn't hold back any more and blew my load right down her throat. She swallowed every drop. She looked up at me, and took my drink from my hand. She took a long drink and then locked her lips to mine in a passionate kiss. I found myself pulling her body closer to me, and running my hands all over her body, I started to undress her. I rolled her over onto the sofa, and took off all my clothes. Then I bent over and put one of her breasts in my mouth, flicking the nipple with my tongue. I moved my hand between her legs and started to rub her clit. Her breathing got faster and she started to squirm. I was still playing with her pussy when I went to work on her other tit. I started to stick my forefinger in her tight pussy when she started bucking wildly. She started screaming, "It feels so good, please don't stop." she started to shudder and then it seemed like she froze. I could feel her pussy squeezing my finger and her juices were flowing onto my hand. She looked down at me sucking her tit and said she never felt so good before. I told her the best was yet to come. I moved lower down her body and lightly kissed her stomach, and then put my face in her muff. As soon as I stuck my tongue in her pussy, she started grinding her muff in my face. I was nibbling on the nub of her clit and she stiffened. I could taste her sweet nectar and knew she wouldn't last long. Just then she started to cum again and she was pulling my face deeper into her pussy with her legs wrapped around the back of my head. After coming down from her orgasm, Michelle and I ran to her room. We got on her bed and locked in another passionate kiss. She rolled me on my back and got on top of my stomach. She told me she was still a virgin and wanted me to be her first. I pulled her close and we kissed again. Then she sat up and hovered over my dick. I pressed my fellow to the velvety folds of her labia and she lowered herself down slowly. I looked into her angelic face as she impaled herself with my weapon, and saw a painful expression appear. I felt a little "pop" and knew it was her hymen giving way. A little blood coated my penis, but was soon gone after a few moments, as Michelle took all of me inside of her. I could feel how tight Michelle's pussy was, and knew she would climax soon. This time I wanted to cum with her. I rolled her over and was doing her from behind taking long deep strokes. She started to moan and gasp. Then she started to call out my name "Oh Andy ...Oh God!" over and over. Her pussy started to massage my prick and I felt my balls tighten up. Michelle screamed she was cumming and I dove deeper. Just as she was hitting her orgasm, I blew my spunk deep into her love canal. We both collapsed on the bed and soon fell asleep in each other's arms. After The Storm * * * * * Click Here to hear the author read the story. (10 min/RealMedia) * * * * * "Hello", Mandy said cheerfully as she put the phone to her ear. "Hey, it's me. I just wanted to call and tell you I'm going to be late tonight", Joe sounded as apologetic as he could knowing he was breaking her heart. "Oh Joe, no, not tonight. We had plans." Mandy sighed quietly, trying her best not to let him hear her disappointment. "I'm sorry, I really am, but I have to finish working on this presentation for that big account I'm trying to land. If I can get this one we'll be set, babe. I'll make it up to you, I promise." "Ok, I'll live. We'll do it another night then, just try not to be really late, Ok?" "All right, I'll try. I really am sorry, I know how bad you wanted to see that movie." "It's ok; I wanted to spend time with you more than I wanted to see that stupid movie. I'll try to wait up for you, ok?" "I love you." "I love you too, be careful coming home." "I will, see you later tonight, bye." "Ok, bye." Mandy hung up the phone, pouting a little over her disappointment and the fact that she knew she wouldn’t be getting her usual red rose that he had brought to her every Friday after work for the last ten years. They hadn't lived in this new house very long and she'd been spending much of her time trying to make it feel like a home. She was looking forward to a night out with Joe, just the two of them, he'd been putting in so many hours and she missed him tremendously. "Oh well, I'll be able to finish hanging pictures and take the rest of the boxes to the basement", she said aloud to herself. She went on through the day hanging and re-hanging pictures on the ivory colored walls. Moving them from one side of the room to another because of the glare from the many windows in their new beach house. They had dreamed of this house for a long time and now it was finally theirs. Mandy loved the smell of the ocean; the scent was all through the house. First thing every morning she'd open the windows, take a deep breath and fill her lungs with the crisp salty air. She especially loved how bright it was with all the windows, she rarely closed the curtains, even at night. After the last box was down in the basement Mandy ate a light supper and took a shower. She'd decided to watch the late show in the bedroom while she waited for Joe. She propped several pillows against the headboard of the bed. Leaning back on them she watched as the host of the show welcomed his guests. It wasn't one of the better late night episodes and the sudden rumble of thunder was a welcome sound. She and Joe loved storms; they would curl up on the bed together and watch through the huge glass doors. Tonight she would have to marvel at this one alone. Mandy got up and turned the television off. She went to the large glass doors and pulled the curtains open wide. She had a clear view of the ocean from where she was standing, it looked beautiful as the waves rolled in and crashed rhythmically on the beach. A slender blue finger of lightening streaked through the sky, lighting up her room and making the ocean glow and twinkle for just a brief moment. She slid one of the doors open a few inches so she could hear the waves as they pounded the beach. She wanted to let the smell of the wet sand and the ocean air into the room. A gust of wind blew through the gap in the doors. A cool, salty mist sprayed across her face and dampened the front of her thin nightgown. "Mmm", she sighed as she took a deep breath and turned to walk back to the bed to watch the storm that was looking to be a wicked one. Mandy curled up on the bed and watched as the lightening snaked through the black night sky and rain pattered against the windows. She listened as the thunder rumbled and waves crashed harder and faster on the beach. She could feel the thunder deep in her stomach as it lumbered through the darkness. She wasn't aware that the storm had lulled her to sleep until she felt his soft lips moving up her thigh from her knee. Her eyes fluttered open to look at the clock on the bedside table, it was 1:00 in the morning, she had only been asleep for two hours and the storm had passed while she slept. "Mmm, you're really late", she said as he moved up to cover her mouth with his. He kissed her deeply, tenderly and with a longing she herself was feeling. "I'll forgive you this time", she sighed as his lips glided softly over her cheek and down to her neck. Joe gently slid the thin straps of her nightgown off of her shoulders; following down her neck with a trail of soft, wet kisses. He pulled her gown down farther, revealing the creamy mounds of her breasts. Mandy moaned softly, arching her back, allowing him to pull her gown off of her arms and down to her hips. She began working her fingers in his silky hair as he teased one hardening nipple then the other with his flicking tongue. A cool breeze from the still open door brushed across one wet nipple as he lavished the other with gentle licks and nibbles. His hands moved over her body so softly she could barely feel them if not for how cool they felt. Joe's mouth ravished her breasts until she was panting and gasping with pleasure. Her gown had slid below her hips. She was nude under him. He sat up letting his gaze follow the path of moonlight that splashed across her body. Joe slowly traced the shadowed line cast by the moon down her breasts to her stomach and beyond to the small patch of fine hair nestled between her thighs. With his hand hovering over her mound, she lifted her hips off the bed until she felt his hand against her. A low moan echoed through the room when his cool fingers found her throbbing button. The sensation of cool on warm combined with how long it had been since they had last made love was enough to bring her to orgasm. She let her hips fall back to the bed; his hand followed her down never breaking contact. She ground her hard button against him until another orgasm washed over her and she lay breathless and glistening with perspiration in the soft glow of moonbeams. Joe covered her body with his and began to kiss her passionately. Their tongues danced a lover’s duel in the dark caverns of their mouths. He deepened the kiss as he slowly entered her, filling her with his hard shaft. Her silky wetness closed around him as her contracting muscles pulled him deeper into her. Mandy wrapped her arms tightly around him and pulled him closer as he began slowly pumping in and out of her. She lifted her hips to meet his with every thrust. Joe pushed into her slowly with long, deep strokes and pulled back even slower. Every movement was rhythmic, deliberate, with one goal in mind. Mandy's body tensed, her breath caught in her throat, her mind was spinning as her juices flowed over his hardness. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his back, her breathing ragged and raspy as the orgasm consumed her. Joe continued pumping in and out of her until she was exhausted beneath him before sliding off beside her and wrapping her in his arms. He kissed her softly on the cheek and whispered into her ear. "I love you, always remember how much I love you". "Mmm, I love you too, sweet dreams", Mandy purred as she snuggled against him and drifted off into blissful sleep in his arms. The sound of the doorbell jolted Mandy awake at six a.m. She jumped up quickly, grabbing and putting on her robe as she ran to the door so that the bell wouldn't wake Joe. She opened the door just a crack to see who it was. Rubbing her sleep hazed eyes she wasn't sure if she was seeing straight when she saw the officer that stared back at her. "Mrs. Wilmington", the man in uniform asked? "Yes, is there a problem officer?" "Mrs. Wilmington, I'm with the Ocean's Cove Police Department and I'm afraid I have some bad news". "Ok, what kind of news", Mandy asked, worried. "Maam‘, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but, your husband was in a fatal car accident around midnight this morning and we need you to please come with us." Mandy stood stunned for a moment, her heart in her throat. "I'm sorry, you've made a mistake, you must have the wrong address. My husband came home at one o'clock this morning and is in bed sleeping right now." "Mrs. Wilmington, I'm sorry, this isn't a mistake"... The officer’s voice trailed off as she turned and ran back to the bedroom. She flung the door open expecting to see Joe sleeping peacefully but only saw that his side of the bed had not been slept in at all. She was confused; her heart was racing, tears started to streak down her face and she began sobbing uncontrollably. She slowly made her way across the room, standing on his side of the bed; with a trembling hand she reached out and picked up the single red rose lying on his pillow. Please send me some back to let me know if you liked or didn't like this story. This is a different kind of story than I've written in the past so your comments and opinions are greatly appreciated. After The Storm This is mostly a true story about how my wife and I rekindled our love and saved our marriage. I've changed our names and altered a few plot details, but otherwise everything is just how it went down. There is sex at the end, but the thrust of the story is about our marriage and how it withstood the biggest crisis we'd ever faced. ------ The alarm clock went off at 5:35 in the morning, waking me up long before I was ready to get up. Outside, I could already hear the wind picking up as Hurricane Katrina made her way toward us. I'm not a very nice person in the morning anyway, plus I had worked the night before until 10:30, getting last-minute business finished, then I'd sat up for another two hours monitoring the Weather Channel. There was no doubt in anyone's mind by then that this was the big one we'd all been dreading, and, of course, that just added to the stress I was feeling. I can still see in my mind's eye, as I think back to that day, the sight of Jim Cantore doing a standup on the beach in Biloxi on Sunday morning. With a beautiful, clear sky and a dead calm sea in the background, he was telling viewers to take a good look because it would never be the same. I've been down there in the months since, and that comment should be the 2005 award winner for understatement of the year. The alarm clock was one you can set anywhere, and which has several different tones - a cookoo bird, a beep and a bell. We like to use the bell, because it's a little more soothing than the others. The problem was, in my fumbling half-awake state, I couldn't find the right button to shut the damn thing off. So it just kept going - bong! bong! bong! I got increasingly frustrated with it, and finally I angrily climbed out of bed, grabbed the thing, stalked to the living room, where my wife and daughter were looking out the window, and threw it toward her. "Shut this goddam thing off!" I snarled. I really wasn't throwing it at her, honestly, but to her, figuring she'd catch it. However, I guess I used a little too much force, because I nearly hit my daughter with it, then I wheeled around and stalked back to the bedroom. "That was totally uncalled for!" Darlene yelled as she followed me back to the bedroom. "Well, I'm sorry, but it pissed me off," I said. "I couldn't get it shut off." "You told me you wanted to get up and watch the storm," she snapped. "Not at 5:30 in the morning, I don't," I snapped back. "Fine, be an asshole," my wife said. "I won't bother you again." She slammed the door, and with that the crisis that brought our marriage to the crossroads had officially begun. A little background is in order here. I'm Dan and my wife is Darlene. We have two children, a 20-year-old son who was away at basic training with the Air Force in Texas at the time, and a 14-year-old daughter. Darlene and I met fairly late in life; I was 27 and she was 26. She'd been married once before, and was recently divorced, while I was fairly shy and not all that experienced with women. But we fell in love right from the start. All the things I never could seem to do with other women, I could do with Darlene. From the beginning, sex between us was outstanding, and I seemed to be a totally different person when I was with her than I had been before. Darlene is average in size, and pretty well built, with a healthy pair of round, fat tits and slim legs. She's added a few pounds here and there over the years, and she could probably stand to lose about 15-20 pounds, but she still looks mighty good to me. As far as her looks goes, she's not one of these women that jumps right out at you, but when you take the time to really look at her, you realize that she's quite attractive. Her eyes are her best feature. They always seem to be laughing, and they have the ability to just draw you in. I'm about average in size, as well, and I too could stand to lose a few pounds. People have said I'm pretty nice looking, but I don't know about all that. We were married and soon had our family coming. We live in the same South Mississippi town we've always lived in, a smallish town about 60 miles from the Gulf Coast. We've had our ups and downs over the 23 years we've been married. We had a miscarriage early in our marriage that we still grieve over. I went through a midlife crisis about seven years ago that nearly resulted in me having an affair with a younger co-worker. And, a little over a year before Katrina, I was arrested for a DUI and forced to quit drinking. I must stress that I am not a violent person, but I do have a quick temper. By that I mean things will set me off and I'll rage for about a minute, maybe two or three, then I'll take a deep breath and I'll calm down. The ironic thing about it is that it's always little stuff that sets me off. Slow drivers in traffic, something that won't stay where it's placed, an idiotic thing someone says on TV, all seem to just rub me wrong. But get me in a truly bad situation, and I'm the picture of calm. The bigger the crisis, the calmer I am. I must also say that I've never, ever, laid a hand on Darlene, and never will. Her first husband was abusive and she told me flat-out that if I ever hit her – even once – she'd leave me. I love her too much to do that, and besides, whatever other faults I have, hitting a woman isn't one of them. But I threw the little alarm clock at her that morning, and that was getting pretty close to the edge. I finally got up at 8:30, right about the time a small tree fell over and hit a corner of the house with a big thump. By then, the winds were howling at about 75-plus and the rain was coming in sideways. Darlene was pretty calm, all things considered. She'd spent the morning cooking, trying to get as much done while we still had power. I sheepishly apologized for my earlier outburst, the way I always did, and that's when I got the first hint that this one was different. Darlene just kind of shrugged her shoulders and went about her business. She wasn't mad, just ... indifferent, like it didn't matter one way or another. We spent that day acting normal. We talked like we always did, even hugged and touched each other like we always did, but I could sense that a barrier had come between us. She was just cold to me. I'll be honest, I really didn't have a lot of time to think about it over the next few days. We were luckier than most with storm damage. We lost some shingles from our roof, and there was damage from where the tree had hit the house. We would end up having to get a new roof. We lost about a dozen trees in our yard, and one of our cars was totaled. It was awe-inspiring – and very scary – to see 110 mile an hour winds in action. Tall pines and old oaks were being whipped around like grass, and at one point, we watched two huge pines in my front yard go tumbling down in unison. It was really one of the weirdest things I've ever seen. We could see the ground being pulled up as the trees were being blown around, and it was just like a slow-motion film as they toppled over. The power went out about 12:30 that afternoon, right at the height of the storm. By about 5 o'clock, it was all over, and we finally ventured outside to inspect the damage. Already there were people with chain saws cutting through fallen trees so they could clear a way out. I live on a dead-end street, and there were a half-dozen trees lying across the road, along with two power poles. I started to get the sense then that the worst was just beginning for us. I just didn't know how bad it was going to be. Obviously, the worst in our town wasn't nearly as bad as it was for the poor folks on the coast, or in New Orleans. But it was still the worst thing I'll ever experience, and yet, in some ways, it was the best thing. I've never felt more alive, more energized than I was during that time. We were on the front row for the biggest story in the world at the time. Tuesday, the sun came out and it was the start of the hottest, driest month I can remember. We had no power, no water and no phones, not even cell phones. I knew my office had a generator, and I knew I needed to try to get in to work. I work in an industry that was deemed to be essential to the recovery effort, so we were in business, and I knew the company I work for was already gearing up for what I knew was going to be a long, difficult period. Even though it was nine miles to the office, I started walking, and finally got a ride after I'd gone about a mile. Darlene and Debbie, our daughter, came to pick me up about 4 o'clock that afternoon, after a path out of our street had been cleared. Again, Darlene was serene and cordial toward me, but I got such a sense of deadness in her feelings toward me that it took me aback. Again, I don't want to compare the difficulties we endured in the days after the storm with the problems faced by those who lost everything in the storm, including the lives of loved ones. Compared to what the folks in Biloxi, Waveland, Bay St. Louis and other coastal towns went through, compared to the hell on earth that was New Orleans, we were very, very lucky. Nevertheless, life was pretty tough for us in those first few days after the storm. Without power, of course, we had to throw out everything that was in our refrigerator and a lot of what was in our deep freezer. What was still salvageable, we had to cook immediately, either on the grill or the Coleman stove. And the house was like an oven, no matter how many windows were opened. At night, the only lights came from flashlights and the oil lamp we had sitting on the kitchen table. Without water, we couldn't bathe, couldn't fill up the sink to wash dishes or clothes. That had to be done with the bottles of water we'd stored ahead of time. And, we couldn't flush the toilets. One thing we had not done that we should have done ahead of time was to fill the bathtubs with water. Fortunately our next door neighbors had, and they left town as soon as they could. So they gave us the key to their house and told us to feel free to use their water. However, that meant lugging a full five-gallon water jug from their house to ours, which isn't fun, especially in the heat of the day. But we did it, because the alternative was to simply leave everything in the stool, and it didn't take long for that to become nauseating. Through it all, Darlene and I went about our routine in apparent normality, but we seemed to be circling each other, seemed to be ignoring the elephant in the room. Our conversations were brief and perfunctory, focusing strictly on the mundane. It was Thursday night, after I got home from work, that I finally took the bull by the balls and initiated a confrontation of sorts. She and Debbie were out on the driveway, sitting in the deck chairs with a small fire going. With no lights in the house and no air conditioning, it was cooler outside than it was inside. By this time, we hadn't bathed in three days, and none of us had slept real well. It was eerie out there. We live on the outskirts of town, so we usually have a security light, there are lights on the street behind us and you can usually see the glow of the town lights overhead. But on this night it was pitch black, except for the small fire going in the driveway. The moon was new, so we weren't getting any light that way, and the only sounds were from the two or three houses in the neighborhood where people had hooked up generators. Debbie finally went to bed, and it was just the two of us. Darlene lit a cigarette then and looked out at nothing. "Babe, talk to me," I said. "We can't go on like this. It's like you're a stranger to me. What can I do to make it up to you?" "I don't know, Dan," she said after a long pause. "This has been building for a long time, and when you threw the alarm clock at me, something died in me. I don't know you any more. You're never happy, never satisfied, you're always getting pissed off about something or another, our sex life is a joke, and I just ... I've just had it. I'm not even angry, and I've shed all the tears I'm going to shed over it. I just don't feel anything any more." "Do you not love me any more?" I said. "I don't know," she said. "You're still my husband and you're still the father of my children. I want to love you, and there's still some affection there, but you're not making it easy for me." I just sat there stunned. I realized in that moment that I had killed something beautiful. You have to understand. I've always felt that Darlene loved me unconditionally, without reservation. I've sometimes felt unworthy of that kind of love, but I'd taken it as a given that it would always be there. Now my wife – whom I still loved – was telling me she wasn't sure she loved me any more. And she wasn't finished. "I'm not going to leave you, if that's what you're thinking, at least not right away," she said. "Debbie's got three more years before she graduates, and I'm not doing anything until then. But, Dan, I've got to tell you, if it wasn't for her, I'd have already left." "Why didn't you say something?" I said in despair. "Would it have done any good?" she countered. "I was afraid you'd just puff up and deny it, get all pissy with me. You can be so self-delusional sometimes. I wasn't sure if I could make you understand that I die a little inside every time you act that way toward me and the kids. I've finally reached the point where I just don't care any more." I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I've cried in the years since I became an adult. I was raised on the belief that big boys don't cry. But I shed some tears that night. "Darlene, I'm ... humbled," I said. "Very much so. I guess I just didn't realize what I was doing. I still love you, and I want you as my wife. It hurts me to know that I've killed your love for me. Please, forgive me?" "We'll see," she said as she stood up and headed toward bed. She kissed me good night, as always, but it was a pretty loveless kiss. I just sat there, feeding small tree branches into the fire, and contemplating my sinking marriage. My whole world had fallen apart in a matter of days, and I wasn't sure how I could fix it. "I'm a fucking idiot," I said out loud to the night. "I've taken the love of the best woman a man could have and killed it. God, how could I be so stupid?" I went to bed that night a troubled man, but I knew in my heart that neither of us was willing to give up without a fight. We began fighting for our marriage bright and early the next morning. Earlier that Thursday, we had made a decision to get up around 5 o'clock in the morning on Friday and go on a search for gasoline for our one operating vehicle. After driving back and forth to work for three days and driving around town on assignments, my gas gauge was down to under an eighth of a tank. I had also made a trip with Darlene to take her to work, where she was told that her office was closed indefinitely, and that she was not to report for work until further notice. Apart from the lack of power and water, and the struggle to find and buy groceries – especially ice – there was also the fuel crisis. Convenience stores and gas stations initially had plenty of fuel in their tanks, but without power, there was no way to pump it. Then, as supplies were depleted and no way for the big tankers to get in, demand quickly outstripped supply. It was fascinating to watch how rumors governed people's actions. Someone would hear that so-and-so had gas – or would have gas at such-and-such time – and in no time there would be a line of cars two blocks long and growing by the minute. Darlene had heard on Thursday night that a certain store well out on the highway out of town would have gas at 7 a.m. on Friday, with a $20 limit, cash only. The person who told her this knew the owner, so we figured it was pretty reliable information. We decided we'd get up at 5 o'clock, get in line and get enough gas to get through the next few days. We got out there about a quarter to 6 and were stunned to see a line of cars as far as we could see. I drove about two miles and finally stopped and asked how far the line went. "Back to the court house in the next town," the man said. I did some quick math, and realized that if he was right, the line stretched a good 12 miles. We'd never make it, so we turned around and headed back toward town. Fortunately, the store nearest our house had a line forming, and we learned that they would have gas at 1 o'clock. We figured that if we ran out of gas there, we could at least walk home, so we got in line and set about waiting. I knew Darlene was on the road to some kind of reconciliation – albeit ever so slight – when I was walking back to the car after a trip to the house for supplies, and I saw her talking to a young mother who was walking with her baby toward the store. We had brought along several bottles of water and a box of Pop-Tarts to munch on while we waited, and were down to our last bottle of water. Darlene has always been a giving person, and I watched from a few yards away as she gave this woman the rest of our Pop-Tarts and our last bottle of water. I could see the woman burst into tears as she thanked Darlene for her generosity. "That poor woman said she hadn't eaten since Wednesday," Darlene said. "She couldn't thank me enough." "You know, you really are special," I said. "Darlene, I spent a lot of time thinking after you went to bed last night, and I realized that I've been a major jerk. I've taken your love and just crushed it, squeezed it dry one drop at a time. But I still love you more than anything in the world, and I'm willing to do anything, change anything, if you will love me again. Maybe I don't deserve it, but I'm asking for a second chance. I just want to hear you tell me that you love me again." "Dan, right now, I can't promise anything," she said. "I know you love me, and at some level, I think I still love you. It's going to take some time for me to get over this, and I'll try. That's all I can promise." "Just don't give up on me, please," I said. "You have a lot of good qualities, Dan, qualities that made me fall in love before," she said. "Work on those, be patient, and we'll see where it goes." It didn't happen overnight, but things did start to fall into place that day. The store where we were in line started pumping gas at 10:30, rather than 1 o'clock, and we were able to get our 20 bucks worth, along with some treats like chips and cold sodas. Then I drove into work that afternoon to find that they had brought in a tanker truck to provide employees and their families with gas. I expected them to limit me to 10 gallons, but they filled me up. The next day, Darlene's brother and his wife showed up from their home in Monroe, La., with a care package – 10 gallons of gas, food, flashlights, clean underwear, Coleman fuel, lamp oil, lighters, charcoal and two cases of bottled water. And about 2 o'clock that afternoon, the water came back on. You wouldn't think something like that could be emotional, but Darlene actually cried when she heard the spitting of the faucets that signaled we had running water again. We went to church that Sunday, and shorts and T-shirts were the norm, but it was an emotional service. We thanked God for getting us through the storm, and we prayed for help in the long recovery that was still to come. And during the invitation time, I went up and spoke to our pastor asking for extra prayer for our relationship. I knew we still had a long way to go, but at least now we were talking, at least we weren't holding things in. I really hadn't had any idea that things had been festering in Darlene's heart for so long, didn't realize that my angry outbursts were chipping away at her love for me. After The Storm I had put in for vacation the first full week of September so we could go to Texas and see our son graduate from boot camp. The higher-ups weren't keen on letting me go, but my immediate supervisor said go. It was a chance to get away, get cleaned up and escape the day-to-day grind of living without power, without long-range communications, of living after the storm. Several times on the trip, Darlene got real emotional, almost angry, for no real reason that I could see, and at one point, I was about ready to just chuck the relationship. I knew I wasn't at fault this time, and I was getting tired of what I was seeing as emotional blackmail. Finally, on the way back, I'd had enough. We were stopped at a rest area, and I took her aside while Debbie was in the bathroom. "Look, I don't know what your problem is now," I said. "I've done nothing to make you feel this way. I've been walking on eggshells around you for a week and a half, but I feel like you'd reach over and bite my head off if you could. I'm trying my best to make the changes you want me to make, and I think I'm succeeding, but it's not going to happen overnight." Darlene looked at me with her big eyes that were the first thing that drew me to her so many years ago. "It's not you, it's me," she said, as she burst into tears. "I'm just so stressed out over everything, and I realize that I need you and I can't make myself take that step to lean on you, because I'm afraid if I do, I'll just get hurt again. I want to love you, and I want our marriage to work, but I'm afraid to let go, afraid that it won't work." I held her then, held her like I always had when she needed comforting, and this time I could sense some real feeling in her response. And I could sense something else stirring as well. It had been almost two months since we'd made love, and I could sense that we were both in need of some intimacy. "Just give me some time," she said. From that moment on, I was pretty sure we were going to make it, but I didn't know with certainty until a few nights later. I came home from work, through the darkened streets, to a hot, dark house. It had been over two weeks since the storm, and progress was still slow, but you could see things were starting to improve. Power had been restored to many neighborhoods, gas was more readily available and most of the roads had been cleared. I walked into our bedroom to find Darlene lying naked on our bed under a thin sheet. That has always been her signal to me when I come home from a late night at work that she's available for sex, if I'm so inclined, and right then I was very much inclined. I went over to her side of the bed, touched her shoulder and she opened her eyes dreamily. "I wore your favorite outfit to bed tonight," she said softly. "So I see," I said, my cock stirring in my shorts. "Dan, please, come to bed and fuck me," she said. "I need you to love me." She didn't have to ask twice. I went in the bathroom and brushed my teeth real quick, stripped off my sweaty clothes and climbed in bed with the woman I loved. Her body was hot and sticky from where she'd been in our hotbox house most of the day, but that just turned me on. It seemed to make things just a little nasty, the way we like it. I leaned over her and we kissed, hard and insistent. My hand gravitated to her pussy, and she was very wet and very hot. Her left hand curled around my hard cock and she softly stroked me. Sometimes, we use fantasies to stimulate our arousal, and often I have to stop in mid-fuck and reprime my pump. We didn't need any of that on this night. We just needed each other. I bent my head down to her breasts and slipped her right nipple into my mouth, sucking, licking and lightly nibbling on her flesh. She gasped as she began to climb the ladder toward a climax. Then I moved to her other nipple and got a huge thrill when she purred in appreciation. All the time, my fingers were sliding in and out of Darlene's dripping pussy, and my thumb was rolling her clit around in a steady rhythm. Before I could go too far, however, she reached down and pulled my hand away. "Don't make me come too soon," she said. My cock was bursting hard, and throbbing with need. I rolled over onto my knees between Darlene's legs. She reached down and opened her labia, the thick lips shining with the dew of her arousal. I didn't mess around, but placed the head of my dick at her opening and pushed in all the way. God, she felt so good! She was hot, wet and pliable, and she looked up at me with the same look of overwhelming love and lust she'd had in the past, and whispered the words that made my heart swell. "Welcome home, love," she said softly. "It's good to be back," I said raggedly. We were on fire with lust, my cock working relentlessly in her spastic cunt. I leaned forward and took my bride in my arms and we kissed, frantically. It was so familiar and so comfortable that I almost forgot the crisis that had challenged our marriage. Darlene and I aren't afraid to try new things, new positions, and we've done a lot of pretty crazy stuff over the years. But for us, the good old-fashioned missionary position is still our favorite way to fuck. There's a reason why it's the most commonly used position. In the missionary position, I can look at my love, look at the lust in her eyes, see the strain on her face as she reaches to a climax. I can feel the friction of our sweaty bellies rubbing together as we grind our bodies as one, can feel her nipples dueling with mine to create crackling spasms of passion. Best of all, in that position, we can hold each other as we soar through the stratosphere in ever-widening circles of sensation. It was never more so than that night after the storm. We were letting a lot of accumulated baggage out, a lot of things that had boiled up to the point where we needed a major purging, a cleansing of our souls. And for us, a good hard fuck has always been the best way to do that. We were working as one, her legs around my waist as she thrust her hips up to meet my downward plunges. We were gasping, moaning in the grip of our passion. I could feel the tingle in my scrotum that told me I was getting close, and I drove my cock harder and faster, holding back my orgasm as long as I could to give Darlene a chance to come with me. "Oh baby, oh baby," she chanted. "Come on, baby, do it. Fuck me!" She nodded her head to indicate that she was ready, and seconds later I saw her squeeze her eyes shut. I bent down and kissed her wildly as her orgasm broke over the top. Her body shuddered as she came hard, harder than I'd felt her come in a long, long time. That did it. I cried out desperately as I felt the rusty tingle in my cock, and I think I may have even screamed softly as the cum exploded from my cock. It seemed like I came forever, shooting staccato bursts of cum deep in Darlene's clenching cunt. We were clutched together in a wild tangle of arms, legs and lips as we spent ourselves on each other, feeling the catharsis that comes from a truly memorable coupling between two lovers of long standing. I wasn't finished, either. As soon as I finally stopped firing microbursts of cum deep in Darlene's twitching pussy, I slipped my deflated cock from her hole, slid down the bed and clamped my mouth over her dripping pussy. Eating Darlene's creamy pie after I've just finished fucking her is a treat I only give myself when I'm in the grips of a true fuck frenzy. And I was feeling as wild as I'd felt in a long time. My tongue was a dervish over her dilated hole, my lips working her swollen clit like a small cock. I sucked as much of our commingled juices as I could get, until she finally shuddered again, in an aftershock of sorts, then pulled me away from her super-sensitive pussy. I climbed back up the bed, gathered Darlene in my arms and we kissed again, more leisurely, but even that had some passion behind it. She's not terribly fond of kissing me after I've gone down on her, but she wasn't objecting in the least on this night. "Dan, I love you," she said. "Do you really mean it?" I said. "I really do," she said. "I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I see something different in you these days, and I like it." "Good, because I love you more than you'll ever know," I said. We fell asleep in each other's arms that night, sleeping well for the first time in days. That seemed to be the watershed in our relationship. We went noticeably back to the way we had been much earlier in our marriage, telling each other we love each other more often, taking time to have quality time together – in bed and in life. Hurricane Katrina changed my life in a lot of ways. I learned truths about myself during those long hot days that made me a completely different person than what I was before. I had to learn patience during that time, had to learn not to sweat the small stuff, had to learn what was important and what wasn't. And I believe it changed Darlene too. She learned that she had to be more open to me about her feelings, had to talk to me directly rather than leaving hints that I might or might not pick up on. I'm not going to lie to you and say I don't have those quick flashes of temper any more. I do, but I'm working to keep them to a minimum, trying to recognize when I'm being an asshole. I've told Darlene to tell me when I'm starting to get out of hand, and she has. Darlene and I were slowly but steadily drifting apart, not communicating and not understanding each other. It's different now. We took a horrific event, one that changed so many lives, and made something good come out of it. After The Storm The sky looked ominous as Jason Dobbins made his way into town. Storms had been predicted for most of the day and Jason did not doubt for a second they would arrive sometime soon. Eyeing the sky periodically as he drove, Jason made the ten minute trip in normal time as he parked behind the row of businesses that lined the main street of Hicksville, Ohio. Hicksville is a sleepy little mid-west town, population of about 3700 in the upper western part of the state near the Indiana border. He worked at "Leslie's Book Store and Gifts", a medium-sized shop that had done reasonably well in the five years of its existence. Leslie Steele, the owner, would already be inside getting the store ready for the day. Jason had offered to do it for her on numerous occasions, but she never took him up on it and the matter was eventually dropped. It was a quarter before nine o'clock when Jason let himself in the back door. He closed it quietly behind him before hanging his light jacket on the hook in the storeroom. In spite of the predicted rain, it was unusually warm for early April, but no one was complaining. No one liked the northwestern Ohio winters in these parts and any temperature in the sixties or seventies was a rare treat indeed for that time of the year. Jason walked to the front of the store where Leslie was at the cash register counting money and filling the tills. She looked up briefly and smiled, a wide toothy grin that was pleasing to the eye of every customer or friend who was the recipient. Leslie was well-liked in this town and was a friend to everyone whether she knew them or not. Jason had been her first and only hire when she started her business that lonely, sad spring of 2000. It had been only a few months after the sudden death of her husband and it had been six months since Jason lost his job due to down sizing. It had always been a dream of Leslie and her husband, Charles, to own their own business and Leslie wanted to keep his memory alive with that dream. She and Jason had been good friends in high school and continued to be friends thereafter. He was a natural choice to help her since he needed a job and she needed someone she could count on. After five years of working closely together, they could honestly say they loved each other as best friends, but that was as far as it ever went. It seemed odd to everyone who knew them that they did not date, but that was the way Jason wanted it. Jason had already been married and divorced twice in his thirty years and had no intentions of making another mistake. In fact, his friendship with Leslie led to his second divorce because his wife could not handle their closeness, professionally or otherwise. Leslie, on the other hand, felt closer to Jason and credited him with keeping her sane after Charles' death and the first few harrowing months of starting the business. It was she who invited him over for dinner once or twice a month hoping he would get the hint that she wanted to take their friendship a little further, but he seemed completely content with their relationship as it was and made no attempt whatsoever to read anything else into it. They were still young, she kept telling herself, hoping to convince herself once more that anything was possible. Even a second chance at love. Leslie continued to count the bills as Jason found the new shipment of books that had arrived the day before. He would have just enough time to sort them and place them on display before they would open their doors to the public. He did not expect a large crowd that day because it was a Friday, but they could expect a few sales. Even if he did not have everything done before they opened, he was sure to have it completed by nine-fifteen or so and that had never been a problem before. A few minutes went by before he heard the cash register close and the combination of keys click to signal it being locked. Jason could almost feel Leslie's warm gray eyes boring through his back as he took the books out the box and placed them on the floor next to him. He peeked at her from the corner of his right eye and smiled to himself. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she had a whimsical look on her face. Jason went back to his job of stacking the books. When the box was empty he discarded it to his left and looked back at Leslie. "Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to help me?" he asked indignantly, but smiling. Leslie broke into a grin. "Standing here sounds like a good idea." She pushed away from the counter, however, and moved to his side. "Nasty sky when I came in," he remarked when she picked up a stack of books and placed them on a nearby table. "Really? It was clear when I came in." She glanced out the front window and saw the gloom. "I guess it is looking pretty bad," she added. There won't be much business today, she thought to herself. "Do you want anything placed on sale?" he asked, changing the subject. Leslie broke from her thoughts of a low sales day. "No," she replied, "we'll keep everything as is. I'll go over the books this weekend and see what's selling and what's not. We can adjust on Monday." "Okay," Jason replied as he straightened up and brushed his hands against his khaki pants. "Come on, I'll help you put these away." With that, they busied themselves with placing the newly arrived books on the shelves and rearranging other books to make room. As they worked, Leslie asked him, "Got any big plans this weekend?" "Nothing in particular?" he answered. "You?" "Same thing. Why don't you stop by for lunch Sunday? We can watch a ball game or something afterward." Jason smiled knowingly to himself. "That sounds great. What time? Noon?" "Make it eleven. I usually skip breakfast before I go to church." Leslie was never a particularly religious person, but since Charles' death, she made it a point to attend as regularly as possible. Somehow, she felt that if she was in church, perhaps she could get closer to her husband's spirit. Sometimes she needed that comfort. "Eleven it is," Jason agreed. The first hour or so of the workday went by slowly as a steady rain pelted the streets. A few customers came in; some were the regulars who always looked for a certain author whose newest submission was due to arrive. Others merely wanted to chat and catch up on the latest news or gossip about anyone and anything. Jason tried to steer clear of most of the conversations, leaving it to Leslie to deal with them. She was always better at small talk and did not let any rumors or half-truths affect her in one way or the other. He usually made himself scarce by going to the storeroom or helping other customers. By ten forty-five, the sky turned an ugly shade of black and gray as angry lightning bolts electrified the skies overhead. The rain was coming down harder, the wind was blowing, and the sewers began to overflow sending the excess water spilling into the streets. Storms never bothered Leslie. In fact, she always liked a good rain. She always thought it was God's way of cleansing the Earth. It was another story for Jason, though. He was always wary of threatening weather and would be very happy if and when the rain stopped. Thunder blasted loudly overhead and the store shook from the force of it. Jason glanced out the window and saw how dark it had become. If he did not know better, he would have thought it was nighttime instead of morning. Rain pounded relentlessly upon the street, making it look like a black river as streaks of lightning flashed overhead. When he saw that the store was empty of customers, Jason headed to the storeroom to watch TV. "I'm going to check the news and see what's going on with the storm," he called over his shoulder to Leslie as he made his way back to the storeroom. "It's just a storm, Jason," Leslie said, trying to convince him. "It'll be over soon." She felt sorry for him thinking he was that upset about the rain, but she knew how he was when bad weather was around. It was one of the things she really liked about him. Most of the time, he was the strong person, her best friend who had helped her through that awful time five years before. But, she saw his weaknesses, too, and that made him all the more special to her. "There's a tornado watch out for this area," he called from the storeroom. There was just a hint of panic in his voice. "So what?" she answered back. "We've had tornado watches before. It'll pass." "I don't know," he called back. "It's pretty nasty all around us." Curiosity got the best of Leslie, so she went back to the room to look at the TV. She, too, saw the column of storms over and around Defiance County. It certainly was not going to end anytime soon, she thought grimly. She glanced at Jason, whose ice-blue eyes were fixated on the screen. He was barely taller than her five foot nine frame, but he was reed thin and wiry strong. Things she could barely lift, he seemed to have little trouble moving. It amazed her at times. His wavy blond hair appeared to always be in disarray, but there was always warmth in his eyes behind those wire rimmed glasses he wore. Leslie reached out and touched his shoulder to try to help calm him. He looked up to her face and tried to smile, but she could see the fear in his eyes. "Looks like it'll be here for a while," she said quietly. "Yeah," he sighed. Leslie poked her head out of the storeroom and looked for customers. There were none. They probably wanted to get home and out of the way of the storm, Leslie thought to herself. She almost wished she could do the same. Just curl up on the sofa to some hot chocolate and a good book. That sounded lovely to her right then. Leslie leaned against the door frame and pushed her straight brown bangs away from her face. At thirty-one years old, she was considered quite pretty, but she never thought of herself in that way. Charles would always compliment her on her looks and she was almost to the point of believing him when he was suddenly taken from her. He had been shoveling snow one January morning when he collapsed and never regained consciousness. An autopsy showed he had an abnormal heart valve that had never been detected and probably never would have been under normal circumstances. Sometimes, Jason would tell her she looked pretty or what she was wearing looked good on her, but she never took it seriously. Maybe if they were dating, she would have believed him more, but it saddened her to think he did not want to get close to any woman, including her. Subtle hints from her about dating did not go anywhere with him and from their discussions, he had made it quite clear he never wanted to marry again. One time, she playfully batted her eyes and asked, "You wouldn't even consider marrying me?" "As tempting as that would be," he laughed, "I couldn't bear for you to be my third ex." "How do you know I'd be a third ex?" "I'm very unlucky at love," he replied sadly and let the matter drop. Leslie reluctantly pushed her thoughts aside and looked at the screen once more. Nothing but storms all around. "I'm going back up front," she announced as she turned and walked away. "Okay," he replied absently as his eyes continued to be riveted to the TV. Leslie looked at the water streaming down the front window. It seemed to be coming down even harder than ever and for the first time, Leslie started to become uneasy. The wind was picking up even more and the rain appeared to be almost coming down sideways at an extreme angle. At times, the wind could be heard whistling between the buildings and through the street. The rain continued for the next half hour or so at more or less the same intensity. Trying to busy herself at the front desk, Leslie looked up periodically when the wind and rain beat upon her window at its fiercest. It was very dark outside and the street lights had been tricked into turning on hours before their scheduled time. Streaks of lighting blazed across the sky and the thunder was deafening at times; even bringing Jason out of the storeroom for a look. And then it was quiet, eerily quiet. The rain still fell into the streets, but it was as if someone had turned down the sound of the storm. Seconds later, Leslie heard the rumble of the B & O railroad just a few blocks away. It always came around noon and Leslie was used to its noise by now. But something was not right. She looked at her watch and it was only a few minutes past eleven-thirty. The train was never this early. Leslie frowned at the thought and could not understand why she was uneasy. She just could not place her finger on it. "The storm's quieted down," Jason said behind her, making her jump a bit. "Yeah," she replied softly, distracted by her thoughts. It was at this moment when they both heard the shrill, high-pitched sound of the tornado siren from just a few blocks away. The rumbling suddenly became louder as Leslie and Jason looked at each other, the realization hitting them at the same time. Leslie darted from around the counter to the window and peered out. "NO!!", shouted Jason. "Get away from the window." Quickly, he moved to her side and grabbed her hand. "We have to get downstairs." Without waiting for a reply, he pulled her towards the door to the basement. Thousands of thoughts raced through Leslie's mind as they headed to the door. Thoughts of her store, the books and the other things they sold. And thoughts of perhaps seeing Charles soon. The roar of the tornado was deafening by then and the last thing she saw before Jason pushed her down the stairs was a row of books to her right falling from one of the shelves. Jason did not mean to push Leslie, but he was pushed from behind. The door slammed into him, pitching him forward into Leslie who was just a few steps in front of him. The door crashed behind him, but they could not hear it over the destruction above them. Leslie toppled down the stairs with Jason right behind. It was not a full basement and had no windows, but they used it for extra storage such as holiday decorations and the like. Leslie landed with a thud on her knees and hands and pain shot through her right shoulder and back when Jason fell on top of her and stayed there. "Oh shit," Leslie groaned when Jason's full weight was on her. She could barely hear herself think as the storm raged above. She pushed against an unmoving Jason and she knew at once he was injured. Darkness enveloped them as she thought of her friend. She tried to wriggle from underneath him, but pain shot through her as she did. "Jason, Jason," she said as she shook his shoulder from below, trying to get some type of response from him. He mumbled something incoherently, groaned, and slowly turned and rolled off her landing on the dirty cement floor with a thud. Leslie tentatively reached out with her hand and found his forehead. She scooted closer, not paying attention to anything else. "Jason," she said while brushing his hair with the back of her hand. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" "I got hit from behind," he mumbled. He groaned again and took her hand in his. The rumbling from above was still loud as glass breaking and shelves crashing could be heard. "How about you?" he asked, trying to catch his breath. "I was fine until you landed on me," she replied squeezing his hand. "I'm okay. Really I am." Her pain was starting to abate a little. Jason raised up on his elbows and cocked his ear towards the ceiling. The storm still raged angrily above them. "I wonder when it'll stop." "I hope it's soon." All she could think of was her store and what the storm was doing to it. "My God, will there be anything left when it's done?" she wondered aloud. The next few minutes went by as if timed by a sundial. When the storm finally moved on, Jason said, "It's over." "What?" "I think it's over," he replied. Leslie listened in the darkness for a second or so without speaking. Slowly, Jason got up and tried to move toward the stairs. Instead, he bumped into Leslie who had stood also. Stumbling, he grabbed onto her to keep from falling. "Easy there," she said, holding him until he was steady, her hands around his waist. Without warning, she hugged him tight to her, not wanting to let him go and wanting him to know how much she cared for him. She almost forgot the storm and what might be left of her store when Jason was in her arms. They had hugged before, but it was not as close as this. Maybe she held him longer and tighter than she should have because she was scared and thought perhaps he was really injured, but it was not something she was going to debate now. As he steadied, Jason noticed the difference also. Truth be known, he welcomed her arms around him then. Everything they had gone through over the last half hour had scared him to death and he really needed her. In fact, he needed her more than he cared to admit. After the first few times at her house, he realized there was more to her actions than just dinner between friends. It did not escape his attention that she was more than a little interested in him romantically and that was something he just could not handle. He could not get involved with her; it was that simple. But now with her holding him, his resolve was melting away as it had been for some time now. He truly was afraid of getting close to Leslie and then seeing it fall apart; something that seemed to happen all too often in his love life. Sure, he loved her as a friend and would do anything for her, but falling in love with her had not been an option before. He could see the puzzled look and disappointment in her eyes when he would avoid or laugh off her gentle advances. He really did not want to hurt her, but he was starting to realize how selfish and silly he had been. From being with Leslie almost every day for the past five years, Jason could confidently state that he now knew her better than he knew either of his two ex-wives. That realization had hit him during a recent evening together when during a conversation, he almost knew what she was going to say before she said it. He was reading Leslie's thoughts and actions with more regularity and it saddened him a bit to think he was beginning to get close to someone again. But, it saddened him only because he did not want to hurt her. It hit him hard, that revelation, and he was very quiet for the rest of that evening, something that was rare when he was around her. He kept his thoughts to himself for the past month, hoping perhaps his feelings would change or he could at least push them aside for the time being, but that had not been the case. He thought of Leslie often when they were away from the store and Jason contemplated their relationship all the while. Jason tried to act as natural as possible at the store whenever he was around Leslie, and for the most part, he thought he succeeded, but it was becoming harder for him to act as if he was not falling for her. Now, in her arms, he felt at peace and was thankful for her being there. Jason hugged her back and held her close, noticing for the first time the light, airy perfume she was wearing. Several seconds went by before Leslie released her hold of him. In the pitch blackness of the cellar, Jason could not see the smile on the face of his best friend, nor the tears that began to well in her eyes. "I think we better see if I have a store left," Leslie said softly. She wiped her eyes silently with her hand. "Leslie?" "Yes." Jason hesitated for a second. "Thanks." "For what?" Jason shifted his feet nervously, not knowing what to thank her for. For being his best friend when he feared his life was falling apart during and after his second divorce? For perhaps loving him? For too many innumerable things of which he could not possibly count? After The Storm "I guess for everything," he finally replied. "Everything?" "Yeah." Leslie did not know what to think. Having Jason in her arms and vise versa was beautiful and she sensed a difference in his actions. Surrendering himself into her care perhaps. She thought maybe she was reading too much into it, but him thanking her for everything caught her off guard. What did he mean by that? That, she did not know and maybe it was time that he was ready to open himself to her if she asked him. Just maybe. "You're welcome," she replied softly without delving into anything deeper. Jason reached out until he found her hand once more and together they found the bottom of the steps. Slowly, they mounted the steps with Jason in the lead. When they reached the top, Jason flipped the light switch, but the darkness remained. He reached for the doorknob, turned it and pushed. The door would not budge no matter how hard he pushed. "It's blocked," he said. "I can't move it." "Shit." "My thoughts exactly." "What are we going to do?" "I guess we'll just have to wait it out until someone can get the door open." "But what if no one knows we're here?" Leslie asked, her voice hinting of panic. "We'll listen for activity and we'll yell until they hear us," he explained. "Besides, we had some customers so they'll think of us. They won't forget us." "God, I hope you're right," Leslie replied, sighing. They descended the stairs slowly and carefully, getting to the bottom a lot safer and easier than just a few minutes before. "Do you think there's anything left of the store?" Leslie asked, her voice quivering slightly. She could feel Jason's presence to her left. "I don't know. I'm sure there's some kind of damage if the door is stuck, plus all the noise and stuff. Who knows?" Suddenly, she heard him smack his forehead and exclaim an expletive. "What's wrong?" she asked. "I just remembered," he said laughing, "I've got my cell phone with me. I can't believe I forgot about it. We can call somebody to let them know where we are." "Oh my God!" she cried as she threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek as she did. Her exuberance almost knocked Jason off balance as he was not expecting it. He hugged her back and held her for a few seconds. When she let go, he handed her the phone. "Call your parents," he said since her folks lived in town and most of his family had moved away. Leslie dialed her parents' cell phone thinking correctly their regular phone would not be working. It rang a couple of times before her mother answered. "Hello?" "Mom, it's me, Leslie. Are you guys okay?" "Thank God you called. We were so worried about you. We're fine. We didn't get hit. Are you okay?" "Well," Leslie began, "I'm fine, but we're stuck in the basement and we can't get out. I don't know how bad the store is or anything." She hesitated for a second. "How bad was the storm?" she asked timidly. Her mother ignored the question, not wanting to worry Leslie. "We'll see if we can get over there and get you out, or get someone to help you. We'll be right over." "Okay mom. I guess we'll wait for you, then. Thanks a lot. I didn't know who else to call." "Don't you worry, now. You'll be out soon. Let me go so we can get over there." "Okay mom, thanks." "You're welcome. See you soon." The line went dead and Leslie pushed the phone towards Jason until she felt his arm. Closing the phone, she found his pants pocket and slipped it in, falling against his loose change and keys. "They'll be here as soon as they can," she announced. "That's good. There's nothing much else to do except wait, I guess." "Yeah." She reached for his arm and eventually found his hand, which she took. Fear gripped her as she began to really think about her store. She was extremely thankful that she and Jason had made it to the cellar safely, but now all she could do was wonder and ponder her fate. The store and everything in it was insured, so money wise she was okay, but did she want to start over again? Did she have the strength to rebuild something she and Charles had made? But, Charles would not be there to help her this time. Jason would be there for her. She knew that. She felt responsible for Jason and did not know what he would do if she chose not to rebuild. Her mind was in a whirl and she was scared at the same time. Leslie shivered involuntarily. Jason pulled her close and hugged her to him, thinking she was cold. She certainly did not mind being in his arms once more. She placed her head against his chest and sighed, wishing she was being held for other reasons. "Are you cold? I'll warm you if you want," he said, hoping for an excuse to keep her in his arms. "I'm not cold," she replied shakily. "I'm just a little scared, that's all." She buried her face even further into his chest. Jason's instinct took over as he leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly. His lips brushed her eyebrows as he lightly kissed her again. They had given each other friendly kisses before, but Leslie was amazed at the softness of his lips this time. "We're alive and we have people looking for us," he said as he backed away slightly. "We're okay. That's what counts." I couldn't bear to lose you, he added in his thoughts. "You're right," she replied haltingly as she fought her emotions. "I'm just worried about the store." "I know you are," he said as he pulled her close again. Once more, she did not resist his touch. "It'll be okay, you'll see." He rubbed her back lightly with his right hand for emphasis. "You're so sweet," Leslie murmured, once again wishing they were at her house instead of in a dark, dank basement. If they had any light whatsoever, she would have seen Jason's face turn several shades of red from embarrassment. "If you say so," he replied. "I know so." "Not if you ask my ex-wives." "I don't care about your ex-wives," Leslie retorted indignantly. "They had to be idiots, letting you go like they did." Jason laughed. "And you know different?" "All I know is we've worked together for five years without a single cross word for each other. That speaks louder than anything else." "Maybe you wanted to bite my head off, but didn't say anything," he teased. "I've never been mad at you," she replied, "exasperated maybe, but never mad." Leslie frowned at herself for leaving herself open like that. Jason did not let the opportunity pass. "When have you been exasperated with me?" "Never at work." "Really? When?" Silence was her answer. "Come on," Jason pressed. "What is it? What's wrong." "Nothing." "I don't think so. Tell me." Leslie choked back tears in fear he would be angry with her if she told him the truth. Well, his anger she probably could handle. It was rejection she feared the most. She did not think she could handle him rejecting her. There was no way she wanted to lose him as a friend. He was too important to her. "Can't you just hold me and we can talk about it later?" she asked in a whisper. Jason squeezed her hand. "No. Tell me now," he said gently. "I don't know if I can. I don't want you to be angry with me." "I won't be angry with you," he said, almost incredulously. He thought to himself, how could I be angry with her? "I promise," he added solemnly. Jason wished he could see her face so he could reassure her. He had a vague idea of what she wanted to talk about and he was more than willing to hear her out. He felt closer to her than ever and was willing, finally, to try to put away his fears of messing up another relationship. He knew in his heart Leslie would be worth it. Leslie remained silent for a few more seconds thinking about what she was going to say. Flirting with him was one thing, but pouring out her feelings for earnest was quite another. "You're too good of a friend for me ever to be angry with you," she began. "I guess over the past few years you've become even a better friend for me, if that's possible. A very special friend." She laughed lightly. "I don't know, Jason. I feel us getting closer, but you always seem to be holding back. That's what frustrates me about you. I'm finding I want more from you and maybe I'm wrong to want that. I don't know. I just need you more now, I guess." In the darkness, Jason could hear her sigh heavily. "I know you've said you don't want to get involved with anyone ever again and sometimes I don't blame you, but what about me? Don't you have any feelings for me?" Jason cleared his throat as Leslie fell silent once more as she waited for his reply. "I've had feelings for you for quite some time now," he answered softly. "You have?" "Yeah." "You never let on." "I couldn't." "Why not?" Jason sighed as he began to reveal his true feelings. "I guess I always felt I couldn't sustain a lasting relationship. I went through two bad divorces and I never wanted to go through a third. If we started something, I couldn't bear for it to ever end. I'd rather not get serious with you if it meant a risk of losing you forever." There, I said it, he thought to himself. "Do you still feel that way?" Leslie asked timidly. She still was not sure of his true feelings. Jason shook his head, although Leslie could not see it. "No," he admitted. "I don't feel that way now." "You don't?" she asked hopefully. "No. It gets kind of lonely being by yourself after a while, but you know all about that, don't you?" Leslie nodded her head yes. She had been awfully lonely. The nights were particularly hard on her. "I know how stupid I've been," Jason continued, still trying to get some things off his chest. "It's even sillier when there's someone special right in front of you every day. You've been there all along for me and I was too scared to do what I should have done a long time ago." Without waiting for a response, Jason tilted his head slightly as he neared her face. Feeling his presence, Leslie waited nervously in anticipation as she wetted her lips. Jason miscalculated in the dark as his lips caught Leslie on the tip of her nose. Leslie giggled as she pulled him close, hugging him to her. "You missed," she mused. Jason laughed too, his own nervousness gone, replaced with relief and his love for her. "Great first kiss, eh? How can I kiss you when I can't see you?" he lamented. "I'll show you," Leslie said. She leaned forward and had no difficulty whatsoever finding his lips. Soft and sweet, her lips met his. A surge of happiness went through her. For such a long time, she had waited for this, waiting for Jason to find his strength. It had been five long years since she felt the lips of another man upon hers. She knew Charles would approve for he was a man who wanted nothing but happiness for his Leslie. She knew he would be smiling from above because he, too, had been friends with Jason. Leslie kissed Jason and never wanted it to end. It was special like a first kiss should be. Within seconds, though, sounds from above startled them as they heard voices and things being moved around. In the far distance, faint sirens could be heard. They broke their embrace quickly, their heads snapping to attention from the interruption. "We're being rescued," Jason said softly, his hands touching her face. "Too bad," he laughed, "I was really enjoying that." Leslie melted from his touch and almost wished they had not been found so quickly. "Me too," she agreed. She took his one hand in hers and kissed it. "Thank you," she murmured. "For what?" "For loving me." "For loving you? That's easy," he laughed. "I'm cheap, but never easy," she corrected him. "Come on," she said, giggling, pulling at his sleeve, "unfortunately, it's time to be rescued." * * * * * They sat in her living room that evening. On the surface, it was not too much different than any other evening they had spent together, but now, they had a much deeper appreciation for each other. As they talked, their fingers were intertwined and they were holding each other, something they really enjoyed doing. Her store had been damaged, although not extensively. The front window had been blown out, possibly within a minute or so after Jason pulled Leslie away from it. Books and other inventory had been ruined, but there was nothing that could not be replaced or repaired. They were luckier than some of the owners in the block. Although the tornado destroyed scores of houses and buildings, it was not as destructive as it could have been. Leslie had already made up her mind to rebuild her store. It was her last link to Charles and she knew she could not get rid of their dream. It was that store that helped keep his memory alive in her heart. Besides, she enjoyed her store too much to give it up. She loved the town and the people who came in every day to browse or buy. Having Jason next to her every day was also an important part in her decision. The thought of Jason working elsewhere and not being around her during the day was something she could not bear. She simply had to have him near. Jason looked at Leslie seated beside him. Except for a few bumps and bruises, they were fine. Leslie's back and shoulder were still tender from where Jason fell on her, but she was no worse for wear. She was a lovely sight indeed and Jason was grateful he had finally come to his senses. As Leslie had noted, they were still young and time would tell if they were meant to be or just another relationship that did not quite make it. With all his heart, he wished for them to be together always. That was his dream. For the past half hour, words were silent as none were needed. Glances and smiles replaced what was not said, but they understood perfectly just as well. Sometimes, words got in the way of what was already clear and they knew this. Leslie's light-gray eyes looked to his, dancing and laughing as a smile creased her happy face. Deep inside, she felt as happy as she ever had, but she also knew that same happiness could be taken away from her in a blink of an eye as her thoughts went to Charles once more. Almost instantly, her eyes turned misty, something that did not go unnoticed by Jason. "What's wrong?" he asked, alarmed at the sudden change. He shifted his weight so he could look at her closely. "Oh," she sniffed, "I was just thinking about Charles for a second." "You really miss him, don't you?" "Yes," she answered. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Anything I can do to help?" "Just hold me and never let me go," she replied. "I can do that." Jason went back and allowed Leslie to snuggle against him, her head buried against his chest. Her arms were around him and hugging him fiercely. Her eyes were wet, but she was not crying. "I really need you," she whispered. Jason bent his head down and kissed her cheek, all the while brushing her tears to the side with his thumb. "I'm here," he replied, before kissing her cheek again. I'll always be here for you, he added in his own thoughts. It was not long before Leslie was dozing peacefully in his arms, her exhaustion overtaking her. Jason thought about the day and the immediate future. He knew it would be a few weeks before they would be able to reopen the store. That is, if the construction went on schedule and their inventory replenished. The broken window had been boarded up, but there was a lot to clean up. They also had to get a complete list of destroyed and damaged inventory. He looked down at Leslie and smiled, reminding himself how lucky he was. He remembered his personal vow of not getting serious with a woman ever again, remembering how sad and upset he was at the time. It was not worth it, he knew that now. It was not worth the loneliness, the pain, and the frustration of fighting his feelings for Leslie. He now wished he had not wasted the last year fighting the truth. But it was only a year in his young life, not a long time when you really thought about it in the grand scheme of life. Still, he regretted it, not only for himself, but for Leslie as well. In his mind, she deserved the happiness more than he. She did nothing wrong, yet Charles was taken from her. With his own failed marriages, he was as much at fault as were his two ex-wives. Jason sighed heavily at the memories causing Leslie to stir, then wake slowly. "I must have dozed," she said as she sat up. "Sorry about that." "No problem," he replied. "I enjoyed holding you." "I'm just so tired," she complained. "Me too," Jason admitted. He stood slowly. "I think I should go so we can get to bed. It's going to be a long day tomorrow." Leslie stood up with him and took his hand. "I wish you could stay. I think I could fall asleep against you all night long." She managed a weak smile. "I have an extra room," she said shyly. "No, no," he laughed. "I've already had too many surprises today. If I stayed here, we wouldn't get any sleep even in separate rooms. Besides, we have a lot to do tomorrow." "You're right," Leslie agreed. She knew she would not sleep with him in her house. It was wishful thinking on her part. She walked him out the door and to his car. The wind was still blustery and breezy and a hint of rain permeated the air. Leslie tilted her head and sniffed, wrinkling her nose at the unpleasant memories of the day. She did not know if she could enjoy rain storms anymore, not after what happened. And that thought did not please her in the least. When they got to his car, Jason drew her close and kissed her. Leslie's knees went weak as his kiss melted her as it had done throughout the evening. "Keep doing that and I won't let you go home," she said when pulled back. "It's a good thing I stopped," he replied. Sighing heavily, he said, "I better get going." He reached for the door handle. Leslie moved forward and hugged him once more, hoping it would last her until the next morning. Reluctantly, she let him go and watched as he got into his car. "Don't worry about what time you get to the store," she told him before he started the car. "What time are you going to be there?" he asked. "Oh, eight or nine." "I'll be there, then." "You don't have to." "I want to, so don't argue with me." "I wouldn't dream of it," she replied, grinning. She wanted him there. She needed for him to be with her. "Good," he replied as he started his car. "Be careful driving home. There might still be debris on the road," she cautioned, leaning into his open window. "I will," he answered. He had already made a mental note of it before she said anything. "You know I'm going to miss you until I see you," she said, trying once more to keep her emotions in check. Jason smiled. "I'll miss you, too, but if I don't get going, I'll never get home." "I'll let you go," Leslie grinned, patting his arm. "See you tomorrow." "See you." He placed the car in gear and slowly drove off. Leslie waved at him and watched until his tail lights dimmed, then disappeared altogether. Her head down, she slowly walked back to her house and shut the door behind her. She missed him already. Before she went to bed, she took a long bath, lounging in the warm water until her muscles were totally relaxed. After she was finished, she crawled into bed and buried herself under the covers, something she and Charles loved to do after a shower together. It usually led to a long love making session for them and Leslie missed that terribly. She looked at their wedding picture on the stand to her right. They had been such a happy couple that day. Who knew it would only last four short years. Sometimes when she was down, she would talk to Charles in the picture, hoping he could give her answers to her troubles, but she was not unhappy this night. She put her fingers to her lips and pressed them against his face. After The Storm "I hope you're happy for me," she said softly. "I really do love him." With thoughts of both of them in her heart, she turned off the light and went to sleep. After the Storm The day started out as a typical Aussie summer morning, bright sunshine, no wind and a forecast of high temperatures with possible thunderstorms. I had always enjoyed camping in the national park and the break from work had been long anticipated. I had smothered the camp fire after demolishing the bacon and eggs so I could safely leave for a bushwalk without any fear of triggering a bushfire. I left in a Northerly direction, towards the stream at the bottom of the gorge where I planned to have lunch, a swim and then return to camp to prepare the evening meal. Along the track I realised how alone one could be in the Australian bush. I had not seen a soul for 2 days and chances are, I wouldn't see anyone for the whole week. Of course this didn't mean it was quiet. The daily accompaniment of the cicadas was beginning, the shrill vibrations piercing the simmering heat of the day. I had removed my shirt and tied it around my waist, the sweat trickling down across my chest, before splashing into a puff of red dust on the track beside me. Soon I could hear the murmuring stream as the cooling shade of a storm cloud briefly blocked the suns burning rays. I turned a last corner on the trail and before me, there was the billabong, silver gums reflected in a green cool shimmer. A platypus dived, mistaking me for danger. A wallaby bounced off into the nearby scrub, heading for a midday nap. And the incessant cicadas drummed on. I sat on a large flat sandstone slab overhanging the tepid water, and removed my boots and socks. From my backpack I retrieved my lunch, a bag of nuts and a juicy peach. I cooled my feet in the pool as I hungrily finished the food before lying back to relax and enjoy the moment. As I stared through the mottled grey green eucalypt canopy, I realised the storm prediction seemed to be holding true. Dark clouds crested by huge white thunder heads were tumbling across the clear blue sky and I heard a distant rumble of thunder, echoing along the valley walls. I put my socks, boots and shirt back on, readying to make a dash for cover should the sky open up. A cool breeze announced the approaching rain, the cicadas instantly silenced from their throbbing chorus. Minutes later, the loud patter of large thunder storm drops hitting the parched ground approached my position. I ran to the small cave at the cliff base. Only two meters deep but certainly the best shelter from falling limbs or lightning available. The rain stopped after only a few minutes, but it had been heavy and cleansing. I moved back out into the steam wisping up from the still warm rocks, leaving my pack in the cave whilst I took a short walk around the billabong. I made my way along the base of the cliff across a narrow ledge bordering the pool. Just as I made the other side to the rock platform, someone called. A little startled, I looked back and saw a woman, maybe 20 years old, standing at the narrowing path. She repeated "Could you help me get past this narrow ledge please?" "Hi there, of course, just wait, I'll come back." She was fit, not real tall, and had the most beautiful tanned skin, well displayed by her wet, shiny, muscular legs, beautifully displayed in short brown cotton shorts and stout leather walking boots with pink woollen socks. She had quite a large backpack, her long brown hair spread across the top, still dripping from the downpour. The size of the pack meant she couldn't navigate the narrow path unassisted. I had by now walked back to her side. "Where are you walking to?" She looked up at me, catching me glancing at the clinging white singlet top, her nipples poking into the wet fabric, a slightly darkened area around the peaks, emphasising how the rain had made it semi transparent. I quickly looked back into her eyes, catching her with a small grin at my discomfort in having been caught. "I'm just following the track until dark, then I'll set up camp." she answered. "If you don't mind, I'll offer you some advice. I know this area really well and with storms around upstream, I wouldn't recommend camping any further down the track. There could be flash flooding if there's been enough rain." "Thank you. But where should I camp then?" she teasingly enquired like a damsel in distress, looking around the surrounding bush before looking back at me melodramatically batting her eyelashes. "Well, I've setup about 30 minutes walk from here. You could set up near me and we could share the camp fire if you like." I replied, trying not to sound overly enthusiastic to the point of scaring her off. "You look like you could use a clothes line to dry out your things. I'm David by the way." She took my hand in her small grasp and blushed; softly telling me "I'm Storm. I accept your kind invitation. I would enjoy the company and maybe we could ...... where does this track lead to?" "Drop your pack back there near mine and we'll walk it together." Storm went back the short distance and took the back pack off and bent placing it next to mine. Her shorts rode up, revealing the rise of her buttocks, the gap between her thighs, a flash of pink lingerie. She straightened and arched her back in relief of the loss of weight, rubbing her shoulders where the straps had left red marks on both sides. As she stretched her arms back over her head, Storm's singlet pulled upwards across her taut narrow waist, revealing to me a delicate, jewelled belly button piercing, twinkling in the sunlight. As she returned, approaching the narrow ledge, she reached her hand out for me. I stepped back to her and held my left hand out, planning on walking along with her. She instead passed my hand into her left hand and she put her right hand on my right shoulder. I was facing the cliff face, holding on with both hands as she began to pass behind me. She wrapped her arms around me as she slid past and when directly behind me, pressed against me. I could feel her firm small breasts against my back, and heard an almost inaudible gasp, her warm breath touching my ear. I dropped my right shoulder slightly, rubbing against her hard nipple and she climbed slightly higher to lick my ear lobe. I turned my face and we kissed. She groaned into my mouth. I twisted further to attempt to hold her and we both fell backwards into the pool of water. I surfaced to find her wading towards me, a sultry look on her face as she pulled the right strap of her singlet top down her arm, offering her beautiful breast to my lips. I rose from the waist deep water to drink the droplets trickling down from that crinkled brown nipple, the breast covered in goose bumps, her left hand holding the back of my head. My right arm pulled her to me as I tumbled back in the water, Storm rolling over on top of me. Her right thigh pressed into my crutch as my left hand cupped her right buttock and we attempted to finish the kiss that had just been interrupted by what I think was a deliberate tumble. Our lips parted, both of us panting, as I pulled her singlet over her head. She in turn pulled my shirt off and then I bent to suck her left nipple deep into the back of my mouth. Storm worked frantically at unbuttoning my shorts before thrusting them and my boxers down and off before she turned to swim off with the both in her hand. I dived, reaching as far as I could and managed to hook my fingers into her belt, pulling her back to me. I wrapped both arms around her to cup her firm breasts as she pushed her bum back into my hard cock. My hands slid down, the left to undo her shorts, the right to skim inside her panties over a slick, smooth mound, finding her clit pressing between my fingers as I slid lower into her hot furrow. She twisted in my grasp as she pushed her pants down "Fuck me now, David .......... oh dear god, I need you to fuck me." I easily lifted her onto the platform behind me, her thighs still hanging over the water. I moved between them, dipping my head, to lick from her quim, the lemon honey taste of intimate readiness, the aroma of a woman in heat. I whispered "Pardon mes lèvres. Ils trouvent le plaisir dans des lieux mystérieux." I parted her outer lips with my finger tips, her inner lips with my tongue, a long upward stroke with my tongue ending in an oral dance over her turgid clitoris. Before long, her pussy dripping a mixture of her juice and my saliva down her inner thighs. My cock was by now dripping, throbbing, anticipating. I too could now wait no longer before stabbing my tool into this lithe young woman. I stood and took the last step towards her. Storm looked up at me "Yesssssss. Do it. Fuck me David." As she rubbed her middle finger up and across her clit before thrusting it into my mouth to suck the juice.. I held my cock in my right hand and pushed the fat head between her spongy lips, wiping it first up then down, spreading her nectar across the helmeted end. Each change in direction produced shock waves of pleasure through both our loins. Storm hooked her right heel behind my buttock and pulled my hips towards her, my cock slowly sinking into her dripping hot wet pussy. My left hand held her right breast. The first thrust put me one third inside her, "Ahhh" she uttered. I withdrew, pushed, half way in, "Mmmmmm" I withdrew. I looked to her for a reaction; Storms arms suddenly encircled me, pulling me fully inside her in an embrace that pushed the air from our lungs. I stopped, Storm stopped, maybe the world stopped at that instant. I opened my eyes to see her sparkling brown eyes staring back at me, silently, wantonly. A tear fell from my eye, splashing on her cheek as my lips searched out hers, we kissed. We kissed long, hard, and we fucked. We fucked fast and hard, then slowly, tenderly. Our rhythm changing as our bodies searched for the next pleasure. All too soon, I felt a rush in my loins, my eyes telling Storm I was close. Her panting increased as my heavy balls slapped against her thighs in an increased tempo. "yes.........yes ........ YESS... YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS cum inside me David CUMMMMM WWWWIIITTTTHHHHHH MMMEEEEEEE!!!!!" as my head arched back, my toes curled and my groin pressed hard against her raised smooth mons, the semen spurting deep and hard into her. After the intense initial spasm, I returned to thrusting with each subsequent spurt, slower and slower until my head collapsed onto Storm's left shoulder. I could feel her vagina squeezing my cock in similar spasms as her orgasm subsided. Minutes passed. The two of us intimately joined but perhaps separately thinking about what had passed. I lifted my head up to look at Storms fine features, her eyes fluttered open before she looked deeply into mine and burst out laughing "What's for dinner cookie boy?" As I rolled off her stunning body, I answered "Steak with dehydrated vegetables accompanied by a cab sav. For dessert, a large helping of soixante neuf. Ok?" She answered with a smile, her eyes lowered, "Oui." After the Storm They'd spoken only twice in a few weeks. She was terrible with phones and he knew it -- she avoided using them as much as possible. That was fine: Julian wasn't a fan of verbal-only communication. But still, this was getting excessive. Upon inquiring casually to Tom, Julian found out she was not only avoiding him, but also her brother, their parents, and her close friends. "I think she's just down," Tom explained. "Or stressed, or whatever. Sometimes she just disappears for a bit but she always comes back before too long." "So you don't even know what she's doing, where she's going?" He paused, then, "Who she's seeing?" Tom laughed. "No, but really, I'm pretty confident she's not seeing anyone, friend ore otherwise. Sometimes she just wants to be alone. I really don't recommend pushing it, she'll just pull away even more." Julian was feeling panicked. Was this about him? What if she changed her mind? Was she speaking to Will? "I mean, I'm just." Julian stopped. What was he? Where could he go with that? "I'm a little worried. We had plans to...well, just to talk I guess," he admitted, and as he said it he felt stupid. "We were going to try to figure something out." "I know." Tom was quiet for a moment. "Look, I love you both. You have my blessing and she knows it. But the last time I talked to her about it -- and this was a while ago, right after the storm -- she was worried about Will and his feelings. And, I'm sure, how it might look to their friends if she were to just jump into something with you." "Anybody that's her friend knows she's not just jumping into this. This has been ye --" he caught himself "-- months coming." "I know. But that doesn't mean she's not worried. Just give her a bit more time, she'll come around. She's nuts for you." "You think so?" "I mean, she said, literally, "I'm nuts for him.'" His conversation with Tom quelled Julian's fears a little bit, but he was still getting antsy. She could take her time, sure, but he couldn't wait any longer to find out if something was going to happen. She could say yes, I am going to be with you, but now and for a few weeks I'd like to be alone. No, of course that was not ideal, but he wouldn't argue. And if she was torn, or didn't know how to move forward, well, that was the whole problem. Not knowing. But he was operating under the assumption that she did know -- at least what she wanted, not necessarily how to go about it. If she didn't know what steps to take, how to move forward, and she just told him as much, he could at least have some peace of mind. Not a whole lot, but it would be better than nothing. In a moment of pure desperation, Julian sent out a text to several of his friends -- excluding Tom. "Text me if you see Kate Cooper." Two days later someone responded. "If you're still looking I just saw her at Olivia's on 5th St. Sitting at the end of the bar." Julian replied, "Alone?" "Yes." He grabbed his coat and keys and headed out the door. Three blocks, just three short blocks he told himself, hoping to catch her before she left. It was still fairly early and the bar was not quite packed. Once inside, he spotted her immediately -- sitting near the back, a book open in front of her, oblivious to her surroundings. Every few seconds she took a sip of her beer. Julian made his through the bar and inserted himself between her stool and the stool to her right. She didn't even notice. "We need to talk," he said, and Kate jumped, nearly dropping her book. "You scared me!" "Get your stuff. Come on." "We can't talk here?" "We need privacy. You have a tab open?" She nodded. Julian beckoned at the bartender. "We'd like to close her tab, Katherine Cooper. Can I pay with cash?" "Yep." Kate grabbed Julian's arm. "I've got it." He ignored her, resisting the urge to call her a child, to chastise her, and tossed a pair of twenties on the bar. "But I only got--" "You have your purse? Let's go." Once inside his apartment, Julian and Kate stood facing each other, several feet apart. "Well?" She looked at him incredulously. "What well? You brought me here." "You've been avoiding me." "I've been avoiding everyone." "Why?" She shrugged, was quiet. Finally, "I don't know." "Katie--" "It's Kate. God. It's fucking Kate." "I'm sorry. Kate. It's just..." He shook his head, trying to form the words. "I thought I knew where we left off. Last time I saw you I thought things were good, I thought we had finally picked a direction to head in. But the longer I went without talking to you, without hearing from you, the more I started to doubt that. Because, I'll be frank with you, if you don't know how you feel about me I don't want to do this." "So I'm not allowed to be confused." "I didn't say that." "You just did." "There's a difference between confusion and not knowing how you feel." Julian was trying not to get frustrated. "Confusion is...confusion is when you have feelings for two people, or when you have feelings for someone but the circumstances are bad. Confusion is not a refusal to make a decision. Not knowing how you feel -- jesus, Kate, we've been friends for twenty years. If you don't know how you feel about me now then you never will. Last time I saw you it seemed like you were pretty sure, but..." He wiped his palms on his jeans. "We were drunk, and maybe you felt like you didn't have a choice." She shook her head. "You may have forced it out of me but what I said was the truth." "Well that...that is a load off my mind." She was watching her feet, unable to look up. "I'm sorry I've been ignoring you. It's just...well it's tough, for starters, since I've known you so long. But also..." "Will." "He's been having a hard time." "So you've been talking to him? All this time you've been talking to him but ignoring me." "Not -- not the whole time." "Unbelievable." "He's still my friend." "Yeah, he's still your friend. He's still your friend because after the first time you broke up he was able to weasel his way back in. He's your fucking friend because he knows you're weak, and he knows you're loyal, and he knows that if he plays hurt, this" he pointed from himself to Kate, "will never happen. He's manipulating you." "You don't even know him." "I do know him." "Not well." "I don't have to. He has a penis, that's all I need to know." "You know, you're an asshole." She glared at Julian, grabbing at her purse as if she'd actually have the nerve to leave. "He's a fucking friend of mine, and if I were to just...disregard his feelings and suddenly start parading around on your fucking arm, Julian, it would a huge fucking 'fuck you' to him and to our fucking friendship." "No, you know what's a huge 'fuck you?'" Julian was yelling now. "This. You say one thing, you do another. And to fucking cover your own ass you do it on the pretense that you're being a good friend. You're not fooling me, Katie. This all comes down to the promise you broke to him, a promise involving me, whatever the fuck it was, and you don't want to prove him right. You don't want to come out of this a whore. But I've got news for you -- there's no right time for this shit. There's no right time to start a new relationship when you're still involved, on whatever level, with an ex. You wait and you wait and you wait and the right time never comes, and then it's too late. And for all your fucking waiting, what do you end up with? Will. Back to where you started. So just, just fucking save us the energy and get back together with him now." She was shaking now, furious. "Fuck you, Julian. You want to know how I feel about you?" She took a breath, daring herself to continue, and suddenly fifteen years of infatuation turned to resentment. "I'm done. I am fucking done. You're what, thirty now? You're fucking divorced, your ex-wife can't stand you. Doesn't want to see you, left you fucking everything. That's odd, don't you think?" "You don't know what you're talking about." "You're getting desperate and it's obvious. You don't love me--" "Shut the fuck up, Katie." "No. You're not in love with me. I was just in love with you long fucking enough for you to depend on it, for you to expect it. I watched you date girl after girl--" "You were fifteen fucking years old." "I was eighteen fucking years old. I was nineteen, I was twenty. It's been years. Fuck you. I've been waiting for you for so long it doesn't even hurt anymore. And you can't wait a few fucking weeks for me to sort my own shit out?" "I just want to know." "Well you can fuck yourself." She was in tears now, lying to him. "There you fucking have it, Julian. I don't love you anymore. I don't. You fucking piece of shit..." She paused, expecting him to interrupt her with something, anything, but he was stunned. "Are you serious right now?" He asked after a moment. He was working very hard at keeping his voice even. She was wrong about Camilla -- that was fine; the truth, her cheating, was worse. But to think he didn't love her...for Kate to think he didn't love her made him ache. He'd loved her for so long, and yes, only in the last few years had that loved turned romantic, sexual, but she was still so important to him, no matter the circumstances, and had been for as long as he could remember. He would kill for her and die for her in an instant. "I'm fucking serious." "Say it." He caught himself before letting out a sob. "Say it." Julian paused to take a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm. Everything was falling apart. "If you don't love me anymore I want to hear you say it, one more time. Say it to me." She closed her eyes, picturing Will. "I don't love you anymore." It was quiet in Julian's apartment. His floor, the ninth, was free of the sounds from the street. With everything new, stainless steel, environmentally friendly, silence surrounded them. After a few moments he was able to speak. "Get the fuck out of my house." His breathing was ragged, desperate. "Get the fuck out, I don't want to see you. Get your shit and get out. I thought I could..." He paused, struggling to stay calm. "I thought, if this didn't work out, that we could both be adult enough to...to be civil. But I can't--" Again, he stopped. "Just get out. I'll stay out of your way, you stay out of mine." She didn't move. "Get. The fuck. Out." "No." "Get out!" "No!" She was sobbing openly now. "No. I was lying." He threw his hands into the air, crazed. "What the fuck are you doing?" "I don't know! I'm in love with you. I am in love with you." "You fucking lunatic." "Stop it. " "Are you actually a fucking child, or--?" "What do you want me to say, Wi--" she caught herself before saying Will's name. "I'm sorry." Julian stiffened, incensed. "What were you about to call me?" "I'm sorry." "Say it." "I said I'm sorry. Please." She was up against the wall now, and Julian had her face between his thumb and forefinger, his face in hers, and her wrist, twisted, in his other hand. "Say it," he hissed. She shook her head, tears forming again. He squeezed her wrist more tightly. "Say it." "Will." Julian released her face but he was still gripping her arm with his right hand. She could see his mind working to make a decision, and suddenly, as it clicked, he dragged her, stony-faced, across the living room, down the hall, and into his bedroom. He pushed her down, face up, onto the bed, and held her in place with one hand while he undid his pants. "Fuck yourself," she taunted, trying to wriggle free. He squeezed her wrist harder, baring his teeth, until a yelp escaped from her lips. Then, tugging at his sweater, he slid one arm out, pulled it over his head, grabbed her with his left hand and freed his other arm. "Now," he said, leaning over her, his clothes at his feet. "Am I right to assume you're not going to undress voluntarily?" She was quiet. Julian smiled as he got to work unbuttoning her shirtdress, ignoring her attempts to break free. "Of course not. Nothing gets you wetter than a struggle." Mortified, she kicked at him blindly, landing a blow to his shin. Immediately she regretted it, not only for the inevitable consequences, but also because she was still tipsy from before, and the kick had been a lot harder than she intended. His palm met with the side of her face with a loud crack. "How fucking dare you," he grunted, pulling her face close to his. "How. Fucking. Dare you." He continued working on her buttons with a new determination, now squeezing her wrists together, pressing them against the bed above her head. "I'll make a deal with you," he hissed, his mouth against her ear. "If you're wet I fuck you. If you're not I don't." "I'm not wet," she gasped. "Surely you're not stupid enough to lie to me. Again." Her dress was completely off now, her tights and shoes in a pile on the floor. Pinning her against the bed in just her bra and panties, he yanked her hair with his free hand. She let out a startled cry. "You really think you deserve to be trusted?" "I'm not wet," she insisted. He couldn't read the situation. Was she lying and hoping he would check her panties, discovering the truth and therefore having reason to fuck her? Was she lying and hoping he wouldn't check her panties? Was she telling the truth, and should he take her word? "Swear to me." "I swear." He yanked at her panties and instinctively she tried to grab at them, but he still had her wrists in one hand. "You're a fucking liar," he growled, feeling the considerable damp spot as he removed them. "But I should have known that already." He flipped her onto her belly and before she could even turn her face to the side he was inside her, in one swift motion, and then grunting into her ear as he pounded into her. "You fucking liar." He was livid. "Shut up," he snapped as she cried out. "Please!" "Shut the fuck up." "Please!" He pulled out, jerked her onto her back, and slapped her across the face once, twice. "Shut the fuck up, Kate. Do you understand me?" He pulled at her hair. "Do you understand?" Her lower lip trembled but she said nothing. Another slap to the face. "Do you fucking understand me?" She nodded, not meeting his gaze. "You're going to shut the fuck up? For once?" She nodded again. "Back onto your stomach." She obeyed. He climbed on top of her, was once again inside her, climbing higher still as she clawed at the bed, trying half-heartedly to get away. He pulled at her hair, put his hand around her neck and squeezed, as a reminder that he was in control, and fucked her harder still as he neared climax. "Oh!" It was less a word than it was an exprsesion of pain, and so he let it slide. As he got closer he pulled her hair harder, squeezed her neck harder, and he came, finally, still pumping throughout, and he felt her spasm around him though he was almost positive it was a reaction to the intrusion rather than an orgasm. "Get dressed." He was still angry. That was rare; usually a good fuck quelled his anger. He took deep breaths, calming himself. Once they were both dressed, they stood facing each other by the bed. "It's getting late," he said finally, his arms extended towards her, palms facing upward. A truce. "You should spend the night." Fury briefly swept across her face. She opened her mouth and then closed it. "You can speak now," he said with a smile. Lips curled, livid, she did speak. "You want me to stay the night?" She was incredulous. "Like I'm your fucking girlfriend now?" "If that's what you want to call it." "You're a fucking asshole." "Don't be stupid, Katie." A guttural warning. "I was already angry once tonight, you don't want that again." "I'm--" she paused, grabbing her purse. "I'm leaving." "No you're not." "Yes I am." "No you're not." "Yes. I am." She started toward his front door, but Julian blocked it. "Get out of my way." He did step aside, slightly. "I think you'll find," he said slowly, enunciating each word, "that you're missing your keys." She was digging through her purse now, shaking, seeing red. "And your phone." "Give them back." "No." "Julian!" "No!" He exploded, raising a finger to point in her face before he caught himself. "No." Calmly now, "We can figure something out, you and me, but in order to that we need to talk. We just need some time. Please give it to me." "Fuck you," she hissed. "You're a fucking piece of shit. Fuck yourself." "Don't start. What did I fucking tell you? Watch the way you speak to me." She pushed past him, back to the bedroom. "Where'd you put my keys?" "You'll get them back tomorrow." "Give them to me." "Tomorrow." She lost it. She grabbed his alarm clock, the nearest thing she could find, yanked it from the wall and hurled it in his direction. Before it even made contact with the wall behind him he was advancing on her. Gripping her arm in his right hand and a fistful of her hair in his left, he shoved her, once more, face down on the bed. "You know, Katie," he growled into her ear, "I can't tell if you're dumb or if you enjoy this." "Get off!" "I plan on it." He was hard again, had been since she tried to get past him at the front door, and had her bent, face down, over the bed. He yanked her panties and tights down to her knees and pushed her dress up around her waist. "If I hear a fucking sound out of you," he warned, "you will fucking regret it." He pushed a finger inside her and was pleased, this time, to find she was dry. He positioned himself at her entrance and waited, listening to her whimper, and as he forced himself inside of her she jumped, trying desperately to pull away. And while he fucked her he spoke, and she had no choice but to listen. "I don't have the patience for childish behavior," he told her. "I wanted to talk to you, and look what it turned into. You act like a little girl sometimes, and, you know," he grunted, "eventually I will start to treat you like one. Why should I reward you with another fuck? Or have you forgotten," he gritted his teeth as he increased the force with which he fucked her, "that I'm getting old? The next time...uhn..." he trailed off, enjoying himself, forgetting his point. She was quiet now, not moving, still listening. He wasn't going to come as quickly as the first time, she knew that. But as she lay there, listening to him lecture her, she wasn't unhappy. This was, in the end, what she wanted. Ever since she was old enough to have sexual desires, this (maybe not this specific situation, but this -- his forcing her, his hurting her, his using her) was what she wanted. She had lied to him, to his face, twice -- the first time just to make him jealous, or mad, she wasn't sure; but the second lie had ignited the anger and the reaction she craved. And now she was exhausted and angry and hurting and spent -- but that was the appeal of Julian: he always got what he wanted from her whether she wanted to give it up or not. "The next time," he started up again, still reaming her, but focused once more as he felt the faintest hint of climax building inside him. "The next time you act like a fucking child," he hissed, his hot breath against her ear, "I am going to treat you like one. Over the knee, belt to the ass, and depending on your fucking attitude...unh...you may or may not be wearing any underwear." Feeling him getting close, she started struggling once more, hoping it would speed him along. It did, and as he pounded more brutally into her he continued his rant. "I will fucking beat your ass with my belt. And you're getting wetter now, Katie, thinking about it, but...unh..." He was very close now. "It is not something you want, that is a promise. You do not want to push me to that point. I think...hm..." he was almost there, "I think you even fucking regret pushing me to this point. You fucking whore." And he slammed into her two, three, four more times as he came, and she let out a sharp cry, half out of relief that it was over. After the Storm A few moments later he left the room, and she could hear him moving around the kitchen, the refrigerator opening, glass clinking. She pulled a t-shirt of his from a drawer and put it on, then took a seat on the bed to wait for his return. Her clit, untouched all night, throbbed, and she brushed her fingers against it and groaned inwardly. She listened more closely now, trying to gauge if he was finishing up in the kitchen and on his way back, or if she had time to bring herself to climax. She couldn't tell what he was doing out there, and while she wanted to come she would be embrassed if he caught her, and she knew, in the end, that there was a reason he had not finished her himself. After the Storm: A Year Later The den was bathed in the sexy glow of a half-dozen candles as I came home from work that Friday night. I was tired from a long work day, but I was also keyed up about what I thought the night might bring. I saw the letter on the kitchen table propped up against a long-stemmed vase that held a single red rose, and I smiled broadly. Roses were our flower, the ones we'd used in the pattern for our wedding china. That right there told me a lot, told me that Darlene was feeling romantic. I opened the letter as I walked back into the kitchen to fetch a soda. "Dearest Love," it read on the outside. "Dan, my love," she began in her fluid hand. "Have a seat in the den, pull off your shoes and relax. The doctor gave me the go-ahead to resume sex, and I want you to enjoy a special night of love. Debbie's spending the night with her friend, and we have the house to ourselves. So, are you ready to enjoy your new pussy?" I chuckled as I saw the big smiley-face she'd drawn next to that comment. You bet I was. It had been more than two months since we'd had sex, and while I'd been able to glean some relief from masturbation, it wasn't the same. I took my soda back to the den, pulled off my shoes and socks, then sat back to await my wife's arrival from the bedroom, where she'd been holed up since I'd gotten home. I had no more propped my feet up on the coffee table when I heard the bedroom door open and close from the back of the house, and then she was framed in the entrance to the den. She looked... Well, let me just say that in that moment, I felt such a swelling of love - and lust - that I almost couldn't stand it. A year has come and gone since I last reported on the state of my marriage. After 23 years of marriage, and two wonderful children, Darlene and I had been drifting apart when things came to a boil the day Hurricane Katrina roared through the area in South Mississippi where we live. I won't go into the details, but I showed my ass that morning, and it was the straw that almost broke the camel's back for our relationship. In the difficult weeks that followed, Darlene had gotten all of her frustrations and fears out into the open, and I had begun to make the commitment to change my attitude toward her, and toward the world in general. Just dealing with all the things that were involved in getting back on our feet after the storm brought us together, and after things settled back into a somewhat normal routine, I wanted to work hard on maintaining that sense of purpose I'd had in the weeks after the storm. I worked on curbing my quick temper, worked on not taking out my frustrations by making belittling remarks in anger, worked on showing Darlene just how much I truly do love her. I'd be lying if I said I magically became perfect. I still have my moments when I get frustrated with petty things and have to blow off some steam, but I've worked hard not to blow it off in the direction of the ones I love. I still sometimes get down about the stresses of life at home and in the workplace, but I've tried to not let those stresses get to me the way they did before. It wasn't always easy, but Darlene was patient with me, and I learned a new way to live my life. Thus, little by little, over the course of the year, Darlene again became the woman I fell in love with, and I became the man she once doted on, with the result that our love life began to pick up. It wasn't just that sex between us increased. Actually, the frequency really didn't pick up, but the intensity did. More than that, we again began to show the real signs of affection, things that had faded from our marriage. I realized that as much as the sex, it was those little things I'd been missing: the affectionate hugs for no reason, the warm clasp of her hand in mine, the soft kisses when I came home, the spoken endearments between us, the subconscious snuggles when I crawled in bed. Those are the things that truly make a loving marriage, not necessarily how many times you can fuck. Nevertheless, fucking had been very much on my mind in the previous weeks, because we'd been in a period of enforced celibacy. Toward the middle of October, Darlene had made a decision to have a hysterectomy. Her periods had been highly irregular for the previous few years, and she'd been going through a weird form of menopause. She had just turned 50, and she felt like the time was right. There were also some other issues dealing with her female plumbing that she wanted to have taken care of, she had plenty of sick leave accumulated from her work, and our insurance would pay for the bulk of it, so we saw no reason not to have it done. We knew she'd be facing about a two-month recovery period, during which time sex was out of the question, so we had hoped to get some last-minute fucking in before she went in for the surgery. But it was not to be. About a week before Thanksgiving, a dear old friend of our family passed away suddenly, so we were caught up in that process. Then Darlene had to work through the holiday, and I also had to work that weekend, so by the time the Sunday night before the she was to go into the hospital came around, we just didn't have the energy. I just held her as she relayed her justifiable fears of anesthesia. During the recovery time, Darlene kept joking about how I was going to get some new pussy, and whether I could handle it. The way the surgeon did the procedure, he went in through the vagina, then when he was finished he sewed everything up so that she would be considerably tighter than she had been. I was eager to experience a tight cunt, but I was also a little concerned about hurting her, which is one reason why I didn't push it about the celibacy. I don't like to brag about it, but my cock is a bit larger than average, and before I met Darlene I was fairly self-conscious about it. For me, sex with Darlene has always been about giving pleasure as much as receiving it, and I didn't want there to be any chance that our first coupling would be anything other than supremely pleasurable for both of us. So there she was, backlit by the light from the hallway that led to our den, clad in the sexy negligee I'd gotten her for Christmas just a few weeks earlier. It was red and translucent, showing off her assets in a most enticing way. Most gash hounds probably wouldn't give her a second look, but Darlene at age 50 is still beautiful to me, and I have never been anything less than proud to have her on my arm in public. And I have rarely seen her looking more beautiful than she was that night. Her long hair flowed down her back with the color of burnished copper, a color she wears just for me. Her pendulous breasts swayed gently as she strutted toward where I was seated, the prominent areolas visible through the sheer material of her negligee. Her hazel eyes sparkled with barely-restrained fire, and her ruby lips were curled slightly in a soft, seductive smile. She had taken great care with her makeup, laying it on just enough to amplify her beauty without looking tawdry. The negligee fell to her hips, dimming the gentle swell of her belly and hiding the thong panties that just barely covered her sex. "You're beautiful," I whispered as she sat on the sofa next to me. "You're full of it," she answered with a sardonic grin. "And you're also horny." "I am that," I said softly as I gathered my bride in my arms and we kissed, soft and slow. Darlene reached between my legs and squeezed my cock, which was already throbbing with need. In turn, I slid my hands over her tits and gently fondled the dangling orbs. I freed them from their confines, pulling them out of the cups of the negligee, then bent over to capture each nipple with my mouth. I gently nipped and tugged on the sensitive tips, and was gratified at the low growl of arousal that sprang from her mouth. My cock was bent in a painful position in the confines of my jeans, but Darlene soon rectified that problem by unbuttoning my pants and sliding my cock through the hole in my boxers. "Seems vaguely familiar," she teased as she lightly stroked my throbbing dick. After a minute or two of soft fondling and hard kissing, Darlene abruptly pulled away and got down on her knees in front of me. She pulled my pants off, then followed with my boxers, while I pulled off my T-shirt, leaving me naked on the couch. My cock bounced off my chest, leaving little trails of pre-cum that flowed from the tip. Darlene put her face real close to my cock, as if she was inhaling my essence. Her hands cupped my balls as she languidly flicked out her tongue and gently swiped it up the underside of my shaft. I knew I was in for a treat now, because Darlene really doesn't like giving head all that much. But she was staring at my cock lustfully as she licked up and down the shaft before sliding her tongue over the crown and slowly slid my cock past her lips. "Oh, baby, that feels sooooo good," I groaned. She just looked up at me with one of the most intense looks of passion I've ever seen from her, and it sent a shiver up my spine. Darlene worked about half of my cock into her mouth, then started back up, then down again, up and down, up and down, at a very deliberate pace. It had to be deliberate, because each time my cock disappeared into her mouth, I felt the sap rising a little higher in my scrotum. I realized that I wouldn't be able to take much more without spewing a humongous cumload down Darlene's throat, and I had other plans for that cum. So I gently pried her mouth off my cock and pulled her up to kiss her deeply, getting a charge as I tasted the hint of cock on her mouth. Her eyes had a dreamy cast to them, and I found out why when I rolled off the sofa and took up position behind my wife. She was leaning over the sofa, her butt in the air, and I slid a couple of fingers between her legs, at her panty-clad pussy. The narrow strip of cloth was drenched with the juice of her arousal, and she moaned loudly when I slipped a finger under the gusset and ran it between her naked labia. My God, I'd never seen her this wet. And I'd never felt her this tight. When I pushed two fingers into her pussy, it was putting them in one of those so-called Chinese handcuffs, where the harder you try to pull out, the tighter it gets. I knew I had my work cut out for me, if I was to get that cunt relaxed enough to take my cock. I started by pulling the panties away from her crotch. I didn't take them off, but rather I just left them stretched between her legs just above her knees. For some reason, I get a real charge out of that kind of slutty look, and I could feel the jolt in my cock as I gazed at Darlene's glistening pussy, with the wet panties stretched lewdly between her legs. I bent down, and kissed and licked each butt cheek, slithering my tongue closer and closer to where I wanted to be. I swiped my way in between her butt and gave her ass a quick lick, but I didn't linger. I'd come back to that later. I was bent over with my own ass in the air as I inhaled the aroma of Darlene's hot pussy, less than an inch from my nose. Those of you who don't like the taste of pussy, too bad. I love to feast on Darlene's hot box, especially when she's as aroused as she was at that moment. I moved forward just a bit and kissed her wet hole, and when I did, Darlene shuddered from head to toe, and she moaned loudly. "Oh, Dan, baby!" she wailed. "God, yes, lick my pussy and get me ready for that big fat cock!" As if I needed any encouragement. I quickly pressed my attack, kissing, licking and sucking everything I could get my mouth on. She tasted divine, and I was quickly rewarded for my efforts when Darlene threw her long tresses back and exploded in a tremendous climax. Her body shook and she gasped loudly as the orgasm ripped through her. She must have been sitting on go for some time before I got home, because she was hot as a firecracker. And was she ever ready for me to fuck her. "Come on, Dan, I've waited long enough," she said in a stern tone of voice. "Get behind me and put that cock where it belongs." Yes ma'am. I knelt behind her and slid my cock between her lips several times, as if priming the pump, then slowly pushed my way in. Now, I had never deflowered a virgin in the years before I met Darlene, but I imagine it would have felt a lot like her pussy did that night. It was like I was putting a second layer of skin on my cock, that's how tight she was. But she wasn't in any discomfort whatsoever as I inched my way into her velvet canal. On the contrary, she was giving me all the signs of encouragement, moaning and humming in satisfaction as I pushed my way in. I think we both gasped in disbelief when I finally bottomed out right at the base of my cock. It couldn't have fit any better if the surgeon had molded her pussy around my cock. I could feel every little palpitation as she caressed my dick with her sugar walls. "Oh my God!" Darlene gasped in amazement. "That feels unbelievable, baby. Oh, sweet mother of Jesus! Oh, baby, fuck me, fuck me like I'm your little slut. Yeah, yeah, yeah." I was ready to do just that. I pulled back slightly and began to fuck her with a slow, but steady motion, gripping her hips to regulate my thrusts. As I fucked my wife with strong strokes, I could feel her loosening just a bit, but it was still exquisitely tight, and she was working her hips back in the time-tested rhythm we'd mastered so long ago. I decided to play a little, so I got a finger down to where we were joined, gathered up a generous helping of our commingled juices, then pulled her hair gently, which had the effect of lifting her head high in a rapturous pose. When I had her where I wanted her, I put my finger to her mouth, and she did the rest, licking the lust up with a sloe-eyed expression that gave me chills. So I went back for more, even as I kept churning my dick back and forth in her frothy slit. This time, she grabbed my wrist and pulled my fingers to her mouth, sucking them as if they were a hard cock. She licked and sucked them with all the seductive flair she could muster, and I could feel my control starting to slip. My scrotum was tingling with that crackle that tells me it's time to wrap things up. Darlene was panting lustfully, as her passion mounted, but I wasn't sure if she'd get to her climax in time. Nevertheless, I was rapidly approaching the point of no return as I fucked her with harder, stronger trusts. I was groaning, gasping and grunting as I hurtled to the finish. And Darlene was working right along with me, kicking her legs in a scissors motion to get her panties off. She got them so they were dangling from her right ankle, which was far enough, then she spread her legs wider, arched her back and begged me to fuck her hard. As I fucked her with abandon, I leaned over and clamped my hands on Darlene's dangling breasts, squeezing the flesh of her tits and working her nipples as if I was trying to milk her. I was groaning in a kind of sweaty delirium as I lost myself in my wife's body. I think I cried out in ecstasy when I tumbled over the edge, and my cum exploded out the end of my dick to baste my wife's new, improved pussy. It had been a long time since I'd come with that much intensity, and I just kept thrusting my cock into her dripping cunt, long after the initial rush of orgasm. Finally, I was sated, but I sensed that Darlene was still climbing, so I pulled my cock out, a move that elicited a frustrated groan, then worked my fingers over her bloated clit, which evoked a satisfied hum. I strummed the little bud with one hand while I fucked her with three fingers of my other hand, and it didn't take very long before I felt her body twitter, and her pussy convulsed in hard spasms. She shook and shimmied for a minute or so as the climax worked its way through her body. Finally, her entire body seemed to relax, and she slumped forward onto the sofa, her breath coming in great heaves. I laid my sweat-covered body on top of hers and just held her until her breathing settled. After a few minutes, Darlene rolled over and sat back against the sofa, while I sat down next to her. "I love you so much," she said softly. "I love you too," I answered. "Isn't this better than where we were?" she said. "Well, dear, sometimes you have to go through a storm before you understand what you've got," I said. "And now I understand that I've got the best damn woman in the world, and I'm not about to let her go." "So I guess that means you're stuck with me," she said finally, with a sardonic chuckle. "Yeah, I guess I am," as I stood up, then offered her my hand to pull her to her feet. "And I think I'm ready to get stuck with you some more." She laughed as we wrapped our arms around each other's shoulder and headed for the bedroom, where I planned on sampling more of my new pussy. And I did, too, twice more that night, and once more the next morning. I love my wife's tight new pussy, and I can't seem to get enough of it. In many ways, this past year has been one of the best and most important years of my life. I think I've grown as a person, as a result of what we went through, and the bond of love that Darlene and I share has gotten noticeably stronger. All in all, I'd say my life is pretty good.