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Looking Back

By: Moondrift



On looking back at one’s past it sometimes seems strange that there are so many things we did not notice at the time. Perhaps because at the time, especially during childhood, we take for granted what is there.

True we can experience the wonder of the world around us and bask in the love of parents and grandparents, but again, they are there and simply accepted as such. They are there just as we expect our meals to be there, our rooms cleaned and beds made, that is, until that fateful day when mother says, “It’s time you tied your own shoe laces”, or later, “You can look after your own room.”

It is at such times when you can no longer take things for granted and are gradually made responsible for your self, that you need to think more carefully about what you have and what you want.

To be more specific; it is a well known and accepted truth that in a healthy family mother and son tend to bond more strongly than father and son or mother and daughter. Often that bond lasts until death and beyond. Even when the son takes a partner of his own, the mother-son bond can remain.

Take for example my own case; when I was a child I thought my mother the most beautiful woman in the world. This had nothing to do with my mother’s actually physical beauty. My view of her beauty could not be measured on some beauty scale of one to ten. It was a concept of beauty that arose from my need of her love and care, and the fact that she gave this love and care made her beautiful in my eyes.

Apparently my father did not share my view of mother’s beauty because when I was ten he left her for a girl from his office. I can recall mother being utterly distraught and crying, and me trying to comfort her in my childish way, telling her, “I still love you mummy, and I’ll never leave you.”

For all her distress at my father’s departure, when, after a month of living with his new paramour he decided he would return to mother, she would not have him back. 

I overheard some of that conversation through the crack of a partially open lounge door. My father’s pleading to be allowed to return was quite pathetic, and mother’s refusal adamant. I was cheering for her on the sidelines since I felt father had betrayed both of us.

After that there was much legal wrangling as father tried to get his revenge on mother by making the division of property as difficult as possible. He ended up the loser, with mother retaining the house, and getting an allowance for me.

One aspect I did not relish was that father was permitted weekly access to me. This meant trips to the zoo and things like that, but it didn’t last. I believe he got himself another woman who had four children and his visits to me tailed away to zero.

Mother who is a pharmacist continued a part time job in a local pharmacy she had worked in for some time. Thus financially we jogged along comfortably enough, if not luxuriously.

In some respects I was the winner in this situation because mother’s love and affection became totally focused on me. I suppose I became a substitute husband, and although this might be considered unhealthy for both of us, I confess I revelled in being the “Only One.” I no longer had to share mother, she was all mine; at least, I thought she was at the time.

When I entered the period of roaring hormones I think I became a very difficult and temperamental youth. I played the game of rejecting mother although deep down I still craved her love and attention, which I still received for all my irascibleness. Mother hung in, waiting for my hormones to calm down.

The hormonal peace began when I started to date girls and have sex with them. I suppose that this pleasant activity assured me of my manhood, and mother, being alive to my sexual activity, did her best to make sure there were no consequences by always seeing I had a supply of condoms.

I had no difficulty getting girls, and at first I was like a child let loose in a sweet shop. But like that child I soon became jaded by the honey sweet diet, and longed for something more substantial than a series of one night stands with girls who were “anybody’s.” 

I suppose that is another stage on the road to maturity; the desire to establish a long term relationship with a beloved one. Not that I had a very good example in my own father, or from what I could see, many other fathers. Nonetheless that was what I hankered after. I wanted the fountain to which I could constantly return to slake my thirst.

Part of my problem was, that once my “difficult phase” had passed, I began to compare the girls I fucked with the other woman in my life, mother. I suppose mother was my ideal model, the female par excellence, the one against whom I unfairly matched all other females. I compared the girls with her, and found them wanting.

No doubt this is what happens with many males and eventually along comes “The One,” or at least, the one whom they think is The One. That the divorce rate is so high suggests that the task of finding “The One” is even more difficult than we might suspect.


This comparing the girls with mother led to my starting to see mother in a new light. Certainly she was “The Woman” as far as I was concerned, but in some respects she was an abstraction until I began my sex life. It was then that mother took on a more concrete form. 

She became much more a flesh and blood female; a female who had given her body to a man, my father, and, as I by then began to suspect, several other men after father left us. Not that she paraded these men before me, and I had no actual proof even of their reality, but in my mind I began to picture her murmuring words of love and crying out as my girls did when they orgasmed.

Unreasonably I felt terrible pangs of jealousy as I pictured the lurid scenes of lust as mother coupled with these men of my imagination. I was tormented by these visions of my beloved and beautiful mother with her lover, giving herself as he held her in his lascivious embrace.

It was the torment of these visions that first led to my new way of perceiving mother. I began to view at her as a desirable woman. 

Features that had always been there for me to see started to take on a new significance; her firm unbridled breasts pressing against her blouse or shirt, stirring as if with a life of their own as she moved; her long slender legs that led me to envisage that paradise at the top of them. I fantasised seeing her naked, touching those breasts, kissing, smelling and tasting her womanhood. Perhaps feeling her handle my penis and saying, “I want you, my darling.”

As these fantasies grew ever more insistent, so the girls I fucked became less and less pleasing. They were but passing shadows that temporarily sated my lust as I released the pressure of my testes into them. 

To put it bluntly, every time I looked at mother I started to get horny. 

The constant presence of the unobtainable object of sexual desire in one’s life makes for a particularly excruciating agony. “So near and yet so far,” as they say. To copulate with another or to masturbate is to fantasise the truly desired one, but with scant satisfaction, either for the self, or where a partner is involved, for her. 

Mother seemed blithely unaware of how I was feeling about her, which in a way seemed fortunate at the time because I had to constantly hide embarrassing erections from her. These came unbidden; at times simply by looking at her, but most powerfully if she was close to me, perhaps embracing me. It was then I could smell the fragrance of her body and it was this that sent me nearly frantic with longing for her. 

I had reached this problematical point in my life as my eighteenth birthday approached. In our society this gave me the right to vote in elections. In addition, for those who stayed on at high school for the final year, it meant that at age eighteen you finished with that part of your education, depending in which part of the year your birthday fell. It is usual for there to be some form of celebration for the occasion, and that is how it was for me.

Mother organised a big party, inviting relatives, friends and my fellow students. Speeches were made, toasts drunk and gifts given. During the course of the party I noticed some of my fellow students, male and female, sneaking off to a dark and unused path running down one side of our house. They returned a little later, dishevelled with faces flushed, but looking somewhat relaxed.

I had formulated my own plans and since I obviously had access to my own bedroom, I would have been fairly sure of privacy while I entertained a young lady on the bed. Unfortunately, it did not work out as planned. Mother stuck close to me the whole evening and this gave me no chance of propositioning a girl, let alone inveigling her into my bedroom. 

I must admit I cursed mother for her close attention to me. She made the whole matter worse by linking her arm with mine; her close proximity having its usual frustrating result. She and I moved among the guests as I tried to hide the embarrassing projection she inspired.

Around two in the morning the party began to break up, the older people leaving first, the young ones drifting off, except for those who could be heard in a couple of dark corners of the garden, making noises that sounded incredibly like people copulating.

Surveying the ruins of the feast mother said, “I think we can leave the clearing up until the morning Kayne.” 

With that we both headed off to bed, and as I undressed I could hear mother showering. Tired as I was, I still had the erectile evidence of my evening’s sexual frustration to deal with. Mother usually came in to bid me goodnight if we went to bed around the same time, and so falling into bed and covering my nakedness, including my throbbing penis, I waited impatiently to see if she would enter my room before I began masturbating.

I heard the shower stop followed by a pause. Then mother came in. She was wearing her customary towelling bath robe, but instead of her usually peck on the cheek and “goodnight,” she sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’ve been very naughty tonight, haven’t I, darling?”

“Puzzled I asked, “Have you? How?”

“You’ve wanted to sneak off with one of those pretty girls all evening, haven’t you? And I made sure you didn’t, my love.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got a special birthday gift for you, darling.” 

Before I could respond mother, who had spoken very quietly but with a touch of mischievousness in her voice, suddenly shrugged her robe from her shoulders to let it fall to her waist. 

I was stunned. I lay there looking at her naked breasts as she smiled down at me. She had never exposed herself to me like this before, and what I saw was all I could ever have hoped for. Firm breasts, the flesh like ivory; up pointed pink nipples seeming to show signs of her arousal.

She stood and let her robe fall to the floor. There was a pause as she stood still before me like a lovely statue. Still smiling she gazed at me, perhaps trying to gauge my response, but I think she really knew what that was, for she said;

“This is how you want me, isn’t, my love.”

She came to lie beside me and placing her hand under a breast she went on, “You want to suck me there, don’t you, darling?”

Her nipple was touching my mouth and I uttered one word, “Mother!” Then I took the nipple into my mouth.

As I suckled her she spoke in the tones of a crooning mother.

“I’ve kept you waiting a long time, haven’t I my love? You’ve looked for me in so many other women. But I was to be a special gift to you, a gift that was worth waiting for.”

I felt her hand embrace my manhood and she began to slowly stroke it.

“It’s so hard and throbbing, my love, you must be needing relief very badly, so here’s my special gift for you.”

I was on my back and she came astride me, and still holding my penis she lowered herself on to me and brought me to the entrance to her vagina. I entered a place of moist warmth, velvet smooth and welcoming. She let herself drop and as I penetrated to her full depth, she suddenly clenched her vagina around my shaft.

I gasped out that one word again, “Mother!”

I felt as if I had found heaven on earth as she leaned over me and began to raise and lower her hips, slowly at first, but with ever increasing speed. I felt a tingling sensation in my testicles then semen began to pump up my shaft. 

I grasped her hips to drag her down to gain full penetration, and somehow, possibly by some instinct, she new exactly the rhythm to mesh with my fierce ejaculations into her.

I now lost all vocal restraint, and moaned into her, crying out with each new thrust of sperm. I never wanted the moment to end, but end it did. With the last pulsation of my orgasm mother gave a final downward thrust, and then stayed still leaning low over me so that her breasts brushed against my chest. 

There was in our union an experience that was entirely new to me. Apart from the sheer exquisiteness of the coupling itself, it was the aftermath that came as a complete surprise. In all my sexual relationships with other women, once I had finished ejaculating, I wanted to end the connection. 

Because some of the women complained if I withdrew too soon, I would stay with them, but the thought had always been, “Let me out of here.”

Now the thought was, “Let me stay here for ever.” 

Mother, it seemed, had sought nothing for herself. She had only wanted to give to me and I began to wonder what state she might be in. Had I left her frustrated, hanging on the edge of an unfulfilled orgasm? Yet she seemed calm as she spoke.

“Did you enjoy my gift, darling?”

“Oh God, yes, mother, it was...” I struggled to find a word that could describe what I had experienced, and finally came out with the wholly inadequate word, “superb.”

“Then we shall have to do it again, won’t we, my love?”

I think she took her cue from the fact that having partially slackened after my ejaculation, my penis had grown stiff inside her, and I was ready to go again.

This time, with mother still on top of me, she remained leaning close, holding my shaft deep down in her vagina and making only very short sharp movements with her hips. Probably my penis did not move in her more than an inch with each thrust.

I felt her thrusts begin to intensify and she started to give out little gasping sounds that culminated in a loud outcry of, “Oh darling,” followed by a tumult of squealing sounds as her vagina flooded with lubricant. When she passed beyond her climax she continued to vocalise with soft, “Ah...ah...ah…” sounds. 

As her orgasm diminished my own broke out with an eruption into her.

Now it was my turn to make the movements and as I raised and lowered my hips to dig in deep, mother seemed to revive and began screaming out, “Oh my God…oh my God…” not calming until I had finished.

As she relaxed against me her lips were touched mine. They were wet and warm and she began licking my lips as I once again started to fondle her breasts with my hand.

She stopped tonguing my lips and gave a shaky laugh saying, “Well, that’s opened the ball game, hasn’t it my love?”

Her words seemed so incongruous that I had to respond with my own unsteady laugh, saying, “Yes, mother, I think it has, and I also think we’ve got to play it out to the end.”

“That was the idea, my love,” she said, changing the metaphor; “That was just the curtain raiser, the big show is yet to start.”

She smiled coquettishly and said, “Darling, I feel rather sticky at the top of my legs; I get the feeling that something’s been going on there; I wonder what it could be?” She gave a throaty laugh. “I’d better do something about it. By the way, you look a bit of a mess your self; I think you could do with a little cleansing as well.” 

She laughed again as she got up and saying, “Kayne my love, I think we’d be much more comfortable in my nice big bed, don’t you?” then she disappeared in the direction of the shower.

I was tempted to follow her but since she had not invited me to do so, I lay where I was, the mingled residual sperm and her fluid festooning my penis and pubic hair growing colder and glueyer by the minute. The post coital fishy odour that usually follows copulation seemed to permeate the atmosphere of the room, but most especially in the region of my sexual organ. I decided I would, as mother put it, “cleanse” myself as soon as she had finished.

When mother had finished she put her head round the door and said, “Don’t be long, darling,” and went on her way to the “big bed.”

During the course of showering the combined relaxing effect of the warm water and the thoughts of what might await me in the big bed, brought on another erection. Impatient to get back to my lover/mother, I went naked still drying myself with a towel to her room.

I got just inside the room and stopped. Perhaps it was the thought of my father, and possibly other men, who had taken mother on that bed. There was also the sudden sense of the enormity of what we had been doing. I had actually been fucking my own mother, or more accurately it seemed, she had been fucking me.

I had fantasised about being with her many times, but the fantasies were mingled with the experiences I had had with other women. Fantasies, when sometimes they become reality, do not live up to the illusion we have created. In this case what I had experienced with mother went far beyond what had been my fantasies. She was indeed, “The Woman.” 

Yet for a moment the thought crossed my mind, “Perhaps some Supreme Being will punish us for our deed.”

I looked across at mother as she lay naked on the bed. From her mons ran a narrow strip of pubic hair that extended to just above her vulva. Her legs were wide open and drawn up, as if in readiness to receive me. The lips of her vulva were slightly parted and I thought I saw the sweet pink inner lips.

I had for long wanted to taste and smell her femaleness, and she seemed to be inviting just that. 

Her breasts stood up large and firm and were surmounted by delicate pink nipples set in very light brown aureoles, and they also seemed to be begging for my attention.

Mother extended her hand to me saying, “Come on, darling, let’s make each other happy.”

Thoughts of divine wrath dissipated. The only divinity that now engrossed me was lying on that bed, offering me heaven on earth. I took the paradise that was there, and let the Almighty do what he willed with me.

I knelt between her legs, and putting my hands under her buttocks, I raised her vulva and bent to kiss it. For a while I explored her complex female organ as I had never done with any other woman, first running a finger along the little valley formed by her outer lips, tantalising her to the point where she began to give out soft sighs. 

I moved in deeper to touch the delicate inner lips that seemed to pulsate in response to my touch, as if pleading for me to penetrate deeper.

I slipped one finger into the moist warmth of her vaginal tunnel and heard her moan, “More, darling, more.”

I penetrated with two fingers, then three, and began a rapid movement back and forth in her. She started to move to my rhythm, making little lifts with her hips and gasping, “Oh darling, oh darling…”

I ceased pleasuring her with my fingers and began to trace her thighs with kisses, moving up slowly to her vulva. As my lips touched that luscious place I ran my tongue over its lips, and mother began to cry out, “Oh no, darling…no…I can’t bear it…no…”

I pressed open the outer lips and began to lick the inner petals and at last began to taste and smell her female fragrance. Her lubricant was a little salty and she smelt of that beguiling musky perfume some women wear, but I am sure mother’s fragrance was perfectly natural – all her.

I lapped up her juices that were flowing freely and still she pleaded with me to stop, but I had no mercy on her.


Looking Back



 Hi Folks, A couple of weeks ago I ran a half marathon as part of my prep for my fall marathon. In the parking lot a saw a beautiful midnight blue Fox body Mustang. The driver of the car saw me next to my Boss and came over. There was nothing unusual about that. For the most part Mustang lovers are pretty friendly. But this guy who was in his mid sixties and had just finished the race proceeded to tear me a new one. His biggest gripe was that I hadn't written a story involving anyone older than their forties since OIND GILF. He also wanted me to acknowledge the fact that there are plenty of older people who are still active and leading full lives. Besides his beautiful car, his beautiful wife took my breath away. The funny thing was that this guy, in his sixties and married to a woman in her forties is probably me in roughly twenty years. So Ken, from Chicago, here's your story. 

Thanks to Barney-R for his editing wizardry. SS06

* * * * * *

I felt like I was carrying a piano. As I ran down the dirt road that separates my property from my neighbor's, all I wanted was a shower, a cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes. 

For a sixty five-year-old man, I'm in pretty good shape, but staying there takes work. 

So every morning, I get out of bed and hit the roads. I run between three and six miles, as long as the weather isn't too bad. 

This morning, as most, I saw the beat-up pickup truck that was owned by my best friend and neighbor, Wilton Jones. 

As the gasping, sputtering truck wheezed by me, Will smiled and waved at me. 

Maybe it was because my exhaustion from the run I'd just finished had me over thinking everything, but I really didn't like the way he smiled at me.

He was giving me that smile that assholes give you when they think they have something on you.

The thing that bothered me was that Will wasn't some asshole. This was my best friend. There were plenty of assholes in town, but Will, to my knowledge, wasn't one of them. 

It's funny how one insignificant fact can stay with you for hours after the moment has passed. And that smile, only differentiated from a friendly one by an extra quarter of an inch in lip movement and a subtle change in his eyes, stayed with me. 

Looking back on things, it was that smile that really began the second phase of my life. 

As I rounded the bend and ran onto my own property, I noticed my wife heading into the house from the garage as I called it. It was actually an old barn that I kept my cars in. 

My house used to be part of a large farm. We bought only the house and the four acres around it that included a nice sized pocket lake and a small woodsy area. The rest of the land went to the farm to the north that had been bought by a large commercial farming concern. 

Seeing my wife, Maddie going back to the house from that garage was a red flag. Not that she couldn't come and go as she pleased. It was just strange that she'd head out to the garage first thing in the morning.

When I stepped inside the house, she was coming down the stairs. She stepped off of the last step and leaned over to kiss me. 

"I had to force myself to get out of bed this morning," she said.

"Are you just coming down from bed?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said sheepishly. "I just can't seem to get started this morning. Maybe I stayed up too late last night after the kids got here. But, don't worry, you go take a shower, and I'll have your breakfast ready by the time you get back down here."'

I just stood there staring at her. She took a healthy swat at my ass and grinned at me. "Come on grandpa," she gushed. "Maybe I'm not the only one with a little hitch in their giddy up."

Maddie isn't what you'd call classically beautiful. And at sixty-three years old, she isn't even as pretty as she once was. But I love her like there's no tomorrow. The crow's feet at the corners of her eyes always make her expression seem as though she's smiling even when her mouth is in a frown. 

She's a county girl. She's remained whippet thin, although we've both gained a pound or two as we aged. She doesn't have huge boobs or a big backside, but her legs have thickened over the years. I love her body just the way it is, and I wouldn't change a thing about her for any amount of money. 

Maddie has a good heart and nothing bad to ever say about anyone. After forty years, I can honestly look back and say that I'm glad I married her. 

So, I put aside the fact that she has just told me a bald face lie and head up the stairs. 

As I get to the top of the stairs, I see a vision that stops me in my tracks. Long wet blond hair resting on a robe covered shoulder. Two thin arms lift the hair and finger comb through it trying to prevent tangles. 

I see a beautiful leg thrust its way free of the spilt in the robe and follow it up to an ass that is so rounded that it defies description. Above that ass, a waist so tiny that the belt for the robe could probably go around it at least twice, makes me want just to wrap my hands around it. 

Innocent blue eyes find my face and belie the fact that their owner is nearly forty years old. She smiles as if she's just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and although I'm ashamed to admit it, that smile fills me with lust. 

"Sorry, Dad," she smiles. "I used your shower, because your son is shaving in ours, and I don't want those little hairs all over me." 

"Any time beautiful," I say to the smartest thing my son has ever done. She rewards me with another one of those smiles. 

At the same time, a ballistically energetic form dashes out of the room at the end of the hall. He dashes between us without a word. 

"Dylan!" says the beauty, stopping my grandson in his tracks. "Have you forgotten your manners?" 

"G' morning Mom. G' morning Grandpa, is there any food yet?" he asks. Without waiting for an answer he heads down the stairs. 

Kate shrugs her shoulders and after giving me yet another smile, heads to her room to dress. 

As the warm waster cascades over my tired muscles, my mind wanders. I can't get over the fact that Maddie lied to me. 

Just thinking about it has me on edge. I dressed and went down to the kitchen. Maddie must've heard me coming down the steps because she set a hot plate with bacon and three of her fluffy pancakes in front of me as soon as I walked in. 

As I sat at the table across from my son, Matt, and my beautiful daughter, Kate, Maddie came over and wrapped her arms around me. 

Kate smiled at us and pointed across the table. 

Both my son, Matt, and my grandson, Dylan, were too busy eating to look. 

"When are you going to show me that kind of affection?" Kate asked Matt.

"As soon as I'm done with my pancakes," said Matt. We all laughed. Growing up Matt had the temperament of some breeds of dogs. Everyone knew not to bother him while he was eating. Dylan seemed to have taken after his dad.

"Grandpa, can we go fishing today?" asked Dylan between bites.

"I was planning on it," I told him. After breakfast, Maddie grabbed me and smeared some kind of goop all over my face and arms.

"What is this goop?" I asked her.

"This goop is called sunscreen," she told me. Then she kissed me. "I have to kiss this face for the rest of my life. I need to make sure it's taken care of."

"But we're just going fishing," I said. "We're not going to be lying out in the sun."

"Just let me worry about you a little," she smiled. "You're all I've got." 

Dylan and I got into my truck. He looked at the barn longingly. "Grandpa, how come we never drive your car?" he asked. 

"I don't want my interior smelling like fish?" I told him. He cast another glance back at my car. I didn't blame him, that year, 2008; my 1993 Ford Mustang SVT Cobra was 15 years old. I had bought it the year it came out and had babied it ever since. 

Over the years, I've upgraded the rims, the supercharger, the stereo, the interior, and a few other things about the car to keep her current. She's also had a paint job or two. However, that car has always been my proudest possession, and I'm careful about who and what I let in her. 

"Grandpa, what are you going to do with that car when you're too old to drive it?" he asked. 

"Well, then I'll just enjoy looking at it," I said. 

"What about when you die?" he asked. I knew what he was hinting around about and what he wanted me to say. 

"I haven't given it much thought," I said. Truthfully, I loved my grandson, but he wasn't Mustang material. 

We fished most of the day, and by the time we got back to the house both of us were tired from so much relaxing. I know it sounds stupid, but you really can get tired from sitting on your ass watching a fishing pole and talking. 

After dinner, I went for a walk with Dylan and his parents. They always wanted to see what we'd changed around the house and the grounds. My son Matt remembers a lot of events that happened around the house and our small town while he was growing up and tells us about them as we walk. 

Dylan asks question after question about my car as usual. Finally, I break down and tell him that I'll take him for a ride the next day, and if he's really good, I'll let him drive around a while. That seems to really do the trick. 

After our walk, Dylan rushes up to his room while Kate and Matt settle in to watch TV on the sofa. Maddie says goodnight to everyone and then grabs my arm and pulls me upstairs to our room. 

"Mad, maybe I wanted to stay downstairs and watch TV with the kids," I said. 

"You mean stay downstairs and stare at Kate, don't you?" she said. "Besides, you know good and well that after all of these years I can't get to sleep without you, and I'm tired. You're also going to be dragging your old ass out of the bed at an ungodly hour in the morning so you can run. So you need your sleep too."

We changed and got into bed. Maddie moved over next to me and wrapped her arms around me. I turned towards her and wrapped her up too. Within a few moments, one part of me was clearly not ready for sleep. 

"We're gonna have to keep this really quiet," said Maddie. "Your grandson is in the next room, and your son and your crush are just below us."

I rolled over on top of her. And her legs spread and wrapped themselves around me. I started kissing her gently and as we both closed our eyes, the magic began. There was just something about kissing Maddie that tuned the rest of the world out.  

Her tongue in my mouth probing and teasing, as if daring, me do the same to her. My hands began to wander her body, although it was as familiar to me as my own. My hands reached the small swellings on her chest and the hard nipples atop each mound. Maddie's breasts were small, but her nipples were the size of double-A batteries, and almost as hard. 

"Oh, Jesus you're good at that," she hissed. I lowered my face to those breasts and began to lick and suck her sensitive nipples. I could feel her toes flicking as they scissored back and forth. 

One of my hands moved lower and found wetness. I was so amazed by the fact that Maddie and I, even at our age needed no artificial aids to have sex. Even though she was well beyond menopause, she still got wet without outside lubrication. And I didn't require any of those little blue pills to get or maintain an erection. 

My fingers rubbed themselves in the wetness and moved further and further into the source. Maddie's moans began to increase in intensity and in volume. I had to plant my mouth on hers and locked our lips together to dampen them. 

She reached down and grabbed my dick and slid it to her opening, pausing, and smiling. "Is this what you want?" she asked playfully. "Or do you want me to go down and get Kate?"

"Hmm, I'm gonna have to think about that one," I said just as mischievously. 

"Unh uh, Buddy," she said, thrusting her hips forward and impaling herself on me. "Kate has one of these attached to your son to play with. This one is mine, all mine."

No matter how many times Maddie and I have done the same thing; it always seems to hold the same magic for me. The feeling I get when every one of the nerves along the surface of my dick sliding into that hot wet tunnel is almost indescribable. I always gasp at the pure pleasure of it. And Maddie giggles every time she hears it. 

"Ya like that, don't cha?" She says as she starts to gently rotate her hips beneath me. Her arms wrap themselves around me, grabbing my hips and pulling me into her more forcefully. At the same time, my lips lock onto hers, and my arms go under her shoulders. 

"It only takes a few moments of that before, Maddie, and I cease to exist as separate beings. My dick pulses and swells in time to the clutching of her pussy and our moans are shared. Sometimes it's hard to tell who was making the sounds. 

Then Maddie begins to thrash wildly. "Oh fuck," she hisses. "Give it to me. Give me a baby, God dammit. I swear you're the best at that. No one else even comes close." 

My dick wilted like an over cooked noodle. Maddie noticed immediately. "Ken, I'm sorry," she said. "And I know it was stupid, but it's something I can't help. You know that we're too old to make another baby ... well I am anyway. But when you do that to me, something primal happens and my womb wants to be filled." 

I nodded, but my mind was working over time. 

"Sometimes I wish we could make another baby," she continued. "You feel so good in there ... wait are you telling me that if we were younger, we couldn't have another child?"

"Maddie, we've done the parent thing," I lied. "We're almost done with the grandparent thing. What I want now is to retire and see a bit of the world with you in my arms. When we're done traveling, we can sit back in our rocking chairs and do the great-grandparent thing."

"I don't know if I want to travel the world with a man who won't at least pretend to get me pregnant," she pouted. 

"Okay, I'll take Kate," I said. I rolled over onto my side to go to sleep. She rolled over me and grabbed my dick.

"I already told you this was mine," she said. "Don't make me go after my daughter. She's like the daughter I never had. But I'd gut her like a fish over you, Ken."

We spooned together like we always did, but my mind wouldn't stop. Maddie completely missed it. I know how old we are. I know that she can't have kids anymore. I also know how hot she gets when we have sex. I even remember that a lot of women who've gone through menopause begin to, on some level, want to have more children. It's a normal human reaction. It's kind of like men who go bald, wanting hair plugs. 

What Maddie missed is what she said next. She'd said that I was the best, and that no one else came close. The problem was that when Maddie and I got married, she was a twenty three-year-old virgin. So the question on my mind was how she could have anyone to compare me with. 

I drifted off to sleep with the buzzing from Maddie's snores in my ears. I didn't have nightmares or any type of psychic dreams. I slept like a rock. As usual, my eyes popped open without any type of alarm, first thing in the morning. I gently disengage my limbs from Maddie's and as usual; she seemed reluctant to let go of me. 

The odd thing was that I had a feeling that I should have stayed in bed. Missing one run wouldn't turn me into a fat ass. And it wasn't like I was training for the Olympics or any kind of race. That morning for the first time I gave serious consideration to just staying in bed. 

But I didn't. I collected my iPod, headphones, running shoes, a shirt, and my favorite Ray Bans to block the rising sun from my eyes and left the house the same way I always did. 

I left the house as quietly as I could. I didn't need to awaken everyone else. As I stepped into the gray of the morning there was a slight chill in the air. It was perfect weather for running. For some reason though, my heart wasn't in it. 

The first song that came up on my iPod was one that I hadn't heard in a long time. It was Whitesnake's, 'Fool for Your Loving." I started out down the road slowly, thinking that I would build speed and enjoy it more as the run went on. 

It felt as though my legs were made of lead. The run was just torture and after only a half mile, I turned back. I ran even slower on my way back. I cursed myself and called myself all kinds of names for quitting on a run, and then I noticed the truck. 

It was definitely Will's truck, but why the hell was it parked on my property. I slowed until I got closer to the truck. Then I noticed that the door to my barn-like garage was ajar. It wasn't all the way open. It was cracked just enough that there would be some measure of light in the garage. Why ... I wondered did he not just turn the lights on? And what the hell was he doing in my garage anyway? Will, more than most people knew that I didn't like anyone around my car. 

Keeping myself from crossing the plane of the open door, I peered carefully into the gloom of the garage. 

For a moment, it was too dark for me to really understand what I was looking at. Then it became all too clear. There was a whore plying her trade in my garage. The bitch was frightfully close to my car as she did it. 

She was flat on her back with her legs kicking in the air as Will fucked her as hard as he could. Her hips continuously rose to meet him as he thrust himself into her. Then I noticed how enterprising the whore was. Another man knelt near her head feeding her his dick, even as she fucked Will. 

There was no question that she was here of her own free ... will. They all were and I knew then and there that my life would never be the same again. 

For most of my life, I've always been the even tempered and reasonable one. I was the person that everyone knew would think first and only fight as a last resort. I was the one who could be counted on to see both sides to an argument and let bygones be bygones. But if pushed too far, I had a hell of a mean streak.

Next to the door, I found a two by four that was about three and a half feet long. I knew it would be there because I used it to prop the wide barn door open on windy days. 

I was always terrified if the wind blowing the door closed while I was moving my car in or out and damaging the body panels or the paint. At the same time, I liked the antique look of the wide horizontal closing door. And to tell the truth, I was just too cheap to spring for replacing the door with a modern vertical closing garage door. 

I picked up a rock and threw it as hard as I could at the windshield of Will's truck. The windshield shattered, and the activity in my garaged changed. Three people suddenly gathered their clothes and put them on as quickly as they could. 

"Do you think it was him?" asked a voice I knew only too well. 

"I don't know," said Will. "But it sounded as if someone did something to my truck."

"I'll see ya in a couple of days Maddie," said Will. "I'm getting out of here." 

"But I didn't fini..." began Maddie, whining. 

"Let the kid finish ya," snarled Will. "This is weird and I don't want to risk getting caught." 

By that time, Will was almost fully dressed. He had his pants and shoes on and his shirt in one hand. Even as he headed toward the door, I remembered the smirk he had given me as he passed me on the road. I wondered how long he'd been giving me that same God damned grin, and my anger increased. 

Will threw the door open wide as he stepped out, and I swing the two by four with all of my might. I felt several of his ribs snap, and he screamed loudly enough to wake the dead. He fell back inside of the garage, and I kicked him several times. 

He was moaning again but this time it was pain causing his moans. 

Maddie threw herself between us as I stood over his body to deliver another blow. 




Looking Back



"Ken don't," she cried. "You'll kill him." She reached up to stop my arm from descending, and as soon as she made contact with me; it felt as if I had touched something poisonous. I pushed her away from me. She fell back into the hay pile that she'd just been fucking on. 

"Don't ever fucking touch me again," I sneered at her. "Where's the other one, Whore?"

"Ken, there's no one else," she said. "I'm so sorry. You have to let me explain..."

"Dylan get your ass out here, or I swear I'll lock you up in here and set the garage on fire," I yelled. 

I didn't wait; I turned toward the door and grabbed the can of gas I used for the lawn mower. 

"Ken what are you doing?" shouted Maddie. Behind me Will lurched to his feet. He was unsteady on them, but he got out of there. He knew I was serious. I started pouring the gasoline around the floor of the garage as Maddie looked on in horror. 

"Ken, Honey, we can talk about this," she said. "It's my fault." 

I struck a match and held it up. I was just about to drop it when Dylan came out of his hiding place. Behind us, I heard the sound of Will's truck starting up and driving away. 

"I'm sorry Grandpa," said Dylan. I glared at him, my hatred, so thick it was all I could do not to hit him with the two by four I still held. 

"I am no longer your grandfather," I told him. "I want you out of my house today!"

"But we're staying for two weeks," he said. "I won't do it again. I'm sorry."

"I don't care what anyone does with this whore," I spat. "I just don't want them doing it in my house ... I'll go wake your parents and tell them why you need to get the fuck out of my sight." 

"No ... please don't," he begged. 

"Ken, you can't do that," begged Maddie. She tried to stand between me and the door to prevent me from going. 

"I got into some trouble at school," said Dylan. "That's part of why Mom and Dad wanted me to come here. We were going to all stay here for the first couple of weeks, and then they would go back to Chicago and ask if I could stay for the rest of the summer..."

"Ken, why tear the whole family apart over this?" begged Maddie. "We can work this out, I swear it." 

I turned away from the cowering boy that I had passed my genes down to and turned towards the woman I expected to spend the rest of my life with. 

"Why the fuck would I want to work anything out with you?" I asked angrily. 

"Because ... we love each other," she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She reached out her hand to me as if she would take me in her arms and comfort me. She had done it so many times over the last forty years that I felt myself reaching back for her reflexively. 

And then my rage overtook familiarity, and I reacted. "Bitch if you touch me, I swear I'll hurt you worse than you've ever been hurt in your life," I said. The very evenness of my tone alerted her to how serious I was. 

"But Ken," she said as if I had actually struck her. "You ... you don't mean that..."

I turned and walked into the house, leaving her standing there. 

* * * * * *

Maddie

As I watched Ken walk away from me towards the house, I felt as if there was a huge lump in my throat that I couldn't seem to swallow. This couldn't be happening. Ken couldn't have meant any of what he'd said. 

But then he hadn't really said anything. Had he? He had called me a bitch and a whore, but that was just his anger talking. He told our grandson to leave. Surely he couldn't have meant that. 

For the first time in forty years, I had no idea what Ken was thinking or what he would do. His attack on his best friend had left no doubt in my mind that Ken was angrier than I had ever seen him. I needed to go after him and calm him down before he did something that could ruin our family. 

"Grandma, you have to do something," whined Dylan behind me. "Dad has already told me that this summer is my last chance. I can't afford to get in trouble again; especially not so soon."

"You should have thought about that before now," I said as I walked away, following Ken. 

As usual, his mind was on the practical and the moment. As angry as he'd been, he still needed a shower. That was where I found him. I opened the door and looked at him as I had so many times before. His body was surprisingly firm and muscular for a man of his age. Thanks to his workouts and runs his muscles were still full, and I loved looking at his body. 

Suddenly, I realized what I had risked. I forced the thought from my mind. "What do you want for breakfast, Honey?" I asked him as I did most days. 

"Get away from me, Whore," he spat as if he didn't care who heard him. He grabbed the shower door and closed it. 

"You don't need to be so loud," I said calmly. "And you don't need to close the door. I've spent the last forty years seeing you naked. You don't have anything I haven't seen thousands of times."

"You won't be seeing it anymore," he said. Then with what appeared to be a great effort on his part, he calmed down, got a towel, and wrapped it around himself. He opened the door and stepped out. 

"What do you want Madeline?" he asked in a tone far calmer than his eyes told me he was. 

"I think we need to talk about ... well you know," I said. "But maybe we should wait a while. I think that you need time to calm down. I need time to explain things to you, and we really don't want to wreck the kids' visit. We only get to see them once or twice a year. So maybe we should wait until they're gone, okay?" 

"I don't want to talk to you," he said. "I don't want to calm down. I don't give a fuck about what you have to say. And lying to the kids or pretending to be civil around them is just another form of lying. Maybe you've gotten so used to lying and hiding things that you don't really know what the truth is anymore. But sooner or later, the kids are going to know about this. Sooner or later everyone is going to know about it." 

"What are you talking about?" I asked. 

"The kids are going to want to know why we split up," he said. Suddenly, my heart was beating faster than it should, and I found myself growing faint. I staggered and then caught myself by grabbing the wall next to me. 

Ken didn't even pause. For the first time in over forty years, I got the impression that he didn't care about my health or well-being. "I'm pretty sure that Chelsea is wondering what the hell happened to Will. I busted him up pretty badly. I might have to go to jail if he decides to press charges. I actually hope he does try. I'll tell everyone who asks me, what was going on and why I beat his ass. I'm pretty sure that Chelsea will throw him out. You know that their place has been in her family for generations. He has no claim on it. He'll be out on his ass before nightfall." 

"Ken you'll ruin their marriage," I said. "You know they have kids. And Will has a business to consider. In a small town like this one, he'd probably lose at least half of his customers. He's been your best friend since the two of you were in middle school. Why do you want to ruin his life?"

"He ruined mine first," he spat. "And while you're so busy worrying about everyone else's kids and families and jobs and feelings. Did you ever consider mine? What about my feelings? What about our son and his family?"

"Ken, I'm sorry if I hurt you," I said. "That was never my intention. I love you more than..." 

"If you EVER say that again, I'll slap the teeth out of your head," he spat. The look on his face was completely serious. Ken had gone from completely calm to irate in a millisecond. His hatred and anger were coming off of him in waves. I realized then how badly I had hurt him. I also realized my mistake. 

I had for most of my life taken Ken's love, and the fact that we would always be together for granted. I never considered that I might lose that love, or that he would doubt for a second the fact that I loved him more than anything else on earth. Things were getting worse by the second. 

I needed to do something to calm him down before he went out and ruined a lot of lives in his pain. 

What I needed to do was to make things as normal as possible to give him time to work through his anger. I left the bathroom and went downstairs to start making breakfast. It was nearly seven by then, and Matt and Kate would be getting up soon. I wanted to keep them in the dark about everything that had happened. 

As it was, I met Kate on my way downstairs. 

"Hi Mom," she said. Looking at her, I could see why my husband had a crush on her. My daughter is beautiful. But her beauty isn't so much outward. Kate is one of the sweetest people I've ever met. Matt must've done something extremely great in one of his previous lives to end up with a woman like her.

"You're up early, Sweetheart," I said. 

"Yet, I've still failed in one of my goals, " she smiled. Kate had the type of smile that can light up a room. 

"What have you decided were your goals?" I asked. "You're on vacation, remember?"

"I wanted to discover the secret of how you make those delicious pancakes so easily," she said. "But my first goal was to get my fat butt out of bed and go to run with Dad."

I laughed at that. If Kate's butt was fat, the rest of us had no shot. Her ass was round and perky. It was as close to perfect as you could get. 

"Honey, I'm sure that dad would love to have you run with him. But you might want to warn him first, so he can get out of his normal mode. He goes out there, and runs like he's getting ready for a race. You probably don't want to run like that until you've done it a few times."

She smiled then. I could see the wheels turning in her head. She was thinking that she could easily keep up with a man in his sixties. The poor thing had no idea.

"I had the weirdest dream, Mom," she said. "I dreamed that Dylan was in trouble, and I couldn't get back to sleep."

While I was still reeling from what she'd just said, she continued. 

"I just had this feeling that Dylan was facing down a big, mean old bear," she said. "Dylan was terrified and the bear was angry. It seemed so real."

"Did you go check on him to make sure he was okay?" I asked.

"Yep, he was in the kitchen," she smiled. "All that boy does is eat. I had to tell him to go back to his room and wait for breakfast."

Kate and I had been in the kitchen for less than five minutes when Ken came down. He walked into the kitchen and hugged Kate. He told her he loved her and told her to tell Matt the same thing. He wasn't dressed for work, so I was worried. I worried even more when he didn't say a single word to me.

A few moments later, I heard the hellacious roar of Ken's Mustang. I'm not sure if Ken's anger was forcing him to drive more aggressively, or if the car, as Ken and many of his Mustang loving friends claimed, reflected his mood. If the latter was true, my husband was angrier than he had ever been in life. 

I had mixed feelings. On one hand, I was extremely turned on. How many sixty plus women could claim that a man loved her so much that he got insanely angry at the thought of her with someone else? How many sixty plus women could claim that their husband had beaten someone nearly to death over her?

On the other hand, I was afraid. This situation, though minor to me, had the potential to damage my family. It all depended on how I handled Ken. Thus far, my efforts at reasoning with him had failed miserably. A different tactic was called for.  

Breakfast was subdued that morning. I made excuses by telling Matt and Kate that Ken had a meeting with a supplier who had come into town at the last minute. I told them that it might be a long meeting if the supplier was really unhappy. They seemed to buy it, especially Kate. 

Dylan, on the other hand, seemed uncharacteristically subdued. He kept his face down and ate. Most of the time he just pushed his food around his plate. Finally, he asked to be excused and went back to his room. 

"Don't worry Dilly," said Kate. "Your grandpa just had to work today. You'll have plenty of time with him." She just shook her head. 

"That boy loves his grand dad," she said. "Oh ... he loves you too, Mom. But it would take something big to come between the two of them. It's a pretty special relationship. I wish he'd had half of that connection with MY dad before he passed away." 

It was funny, Kate had a very sunny personality. As beautiful as she was on the outside, it paled against her inner beauty. She was little Mary sunshine, but her words, though meant to be reassuring, hurt me deeply. They only underscored another thing that had been ruined by my actions. Even if I did manage to hold things together, the relationship between my grandson and my husband would never be the same. No matter how you slice it. I had damaged my family with my selfishness. 

After breakfast, Matt offered to take Dylan fishing. Dylan reluctantly agreed. Kate opted to tag along. I noticed that she took her iPad with her. 

Surprisingly, they were back after only a couple of hours. The previous day, Ken and Dylan were gone the entire day. 

"What happened?" I asked, "Aren't the fish biting?"

"Dylan didn't feel like fishing," said Ken. That set the tone for the rest of the day. When dinner time rolled around, and I hadn't heard from Ken, I got frantic. I had no idea what to say to the kids about why he wasn't there.

I called him. The phone seemed like it rang a hundred times before he answered it.

"What?" he asked. The tone of his voice told me that I was the last person on earth he wanted to talk to, and it hurt.

"When are you coming home?" I asked.

"Who said I was coming home?" he asked. My blooded went cold. 

"Ken do we have to ruin Matt's vacation?" I asked. "Can't we just wait and deal with this when he's gone?"

"You're the one who caused all of this," he said. "Why didn't you think about that when you were sneaking guys into my garage and fucking them?"

"Ken we need to talk," I said. "Can you please come home?"

"Why would I want to come home? Besides, I'm working on giving you what you asked for," he said. "I'll probably be here for another hour. Is your grandson still there?"

"Yes, but Ken, you have to give me some time to get him out of here, I..." I began. 

"I don't Have to give you anything," he said. "For forty years, I gave you everything you asked for. I gave you my heart, my body, my mind and all of my love and look at what it got me. "

The most terrifying part about the conversation was that he was no longer angry. If he had still been just venting his anger, I probably wouldn't have worried as much. But Ken was very calm, and he was speaking very casually. It was as if he had thought it all through and was simply telling me the facts he had derived from some sort of analysis or experiment. 

Right after dinner, Ken got home. Matt and Kate ran to see him as soon as he came into the house. Dylan had already gone up to his room, complaining of not feeling well. I think I knew why he didn't feel well. 

Ken sat down and spoke to Matt and Kate for a couple of hours. They talked about everything under the sun. I could tell that Ken was enjoying it. Kate asked about the picture we had on the mantle of Ken in a hospital gown with Matt on his knee. 

Matt had been so young that he didn't remember the details. He just remembered that his dad had been a hero. 

I remembered it though. And Ken had been a hero. A congenital defect ran in Ken's family. It tended to skip a generation and sometimes two, but when it struck, it was almost always fatal. Ken's brother had it. Ken had donated his bone marrow to his brother Ben in hopes of curing him. 

The bone marrow transplant had been somewhat successful. It had given Ben another twenty or so years of life before the disease, a form of cancer, struck back with a vengeance.

As I watched Ken talking to Matt and Kate, I realized that I just had to be patient. Ken would always do what was best for the people he loved. He would eventually forgive both Dylan and me. It was just the way he was made.

Maybe an hour after that, Matt and Kate went to their room, and Ken came into ours. He was still dressed and barely even glanced at me. 

"I just need to get a few things," he said. "I'll sleep in the..."

"We need to have a talk," I said forcefully. I had decided that the best way to handle him was to be direct and authoritative. The way I used to deal with school boys who couldn't share the toys, back when I was a school teacher. 

Ken just looked at me. "Ken, we've been married for over forty years," I said. "We've been through good times and bad, but we've always been able to work out our problems. This isn't going to be any different. You stormed off this morning without even giving us the chance to talk about what happened. I think I deserve that much at least. You're supposed to be the man I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. We're married for God's sake. I think I deserve more than that."

"And I think I deserve more than to be married to the town whore," he spat. At least, he kept his voice down this time. "How long have you been fucking my friends? How many of them are there?"

"Ken, you have to give me a chance to explain this," I said. "It really isn't what you think."

He sat down on the edge of the bed as far away from me as he could get. "I'm not contagious," I said. "You can't get a disease from me. Only yesterday you loved touching me."

His not wanting to touch me or be near me hurt me badly. 

"Yesterday, I didn't know I was married to a slut," he spat. "Yesterday, I didn't know my best friend was stabbing me in the back. Wait until I have my talk with Chelsea."

"I thought you were going to let me explain," I said calmly. He just sat back on the bed, edging even further away from me. 

"Go ahead, I don't have all night," he said. 

"Ken, you were the first and until this all started, only person I had sex with. When we first started, it was scary, and I never told you this but it kind of hurt. I actually only did it because you loved it so much, and I loved you, so I put up with it. It took a while, but it became pleasurable for me too. There were times when my desire for it spiked or ebbed, but I always enjoyed the feelings of being close to you. 

It all changed when I hit my late forties or early fifties. Ken, I got to the point where I pretty much hated sex. You were great. You never pushed me or tired to force me. And you never complained. Slowly, things started to go back to normal and that's when the problems began. It had gotten to the point where I knew all of your moves. I could literally predict how you would touch me and where. It just became routine. I guess in a way it was boring, and I wanted more from sex than that. There was also the fact that you were getting older, and I just wanted it more. 

Ken there were nights when you would give me everything you had, don't get me wrong, you did a good job; I came, but I just wanted more. I was becoming frustrated, and I didn't know how to tell you. I love you more than anything on the planet, so I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I just needed more. 

I ran into Will and found out that he was having the opposite situation with Chelsea. She and I are the same age, but we're almost opposites. She no longer has any desire for sex at all. He told me that he was lucky if he got some twice a year. 

One thing led to another and ... well here we are. You should know, Honey; Will isn't in any way better than you are. He's just different. I don't have any feelings for him. He was never going to replace you; we don't even kiss. I know it sounds cliché, but you and I make love. Will and I just fuck. 

And Dylan, well Dylan caught us together. He threatened to tell you, unless I gave him some too. And again he was different from Will. He's wilder and younger and gave me the opportunity to try the three-way thing. But Ken you have to know none of this was ever was as important to me as our marriage. It's just a phase I'm going through. 




Looking Back



The way I see it is that I put up with it when you needed a lot of sex, and I didn't, so surely you can put up with it now that I need more than you can give."

I had made all of my points, and I could see he was actually thinking about it. 

"So you never considered telling me that you wanted to try some different things, right?" he said. "And you never considered just telling me that we needed to do it more often. I'm in far better physical shape than Will. Anything he could do I could do better. Maybe it's like you said though, you just wanted someone different."

It was as if he was having the entire conversation while working things out for himself. 

Then he looked up at me and smiled. "Well you won't have to worry about my boring fucking anymore," he said. 

"Ken, that isn't what I wanted," I said. 

"Because you and I won't ever be fucking again," he continued. 

"No, Ken, you don't understand me," I said angrily. "That isn't what I wanted at all. I'll just stop, if you want me to."

"No need," he said. "I was going to have Paul deliver these when he got them fully finished but here, take my copy." He reached inside his jacket and handed me some folded papers. 

"What are these for?" I asked. 

"Maddie, you used to be a teacher," he said. "I'm sure you can still read." 

"Ha ha ha," I said. "Of course, course I can read." I looked on top of the dresser and found my reading glasses. As I put them on Ken stepped into his closet and started looking around. He grabbed some of his clothes. I was too shocked by what I was reading to notice what he was doing. He left the room and came back a few moments later. This time he had a duffle bag with him, and he started going through his drawers. 

"Ken ... why are you doing this?" I asked him through my tears. "I don't understand. I explained it all to you. I put up with what you needed ... why can't I have what I need?"

"Because they are completely different situations," he spat. "As you said, when we were younger, I probably wanted more. However, I had to settle for what you wanted to give me. But even then, I loved you so much that I didn't do what you did. I didn't go out and find someone else to have sex with. I didn't supplement our relationship. I just took what I could get because I loved you."

He had a point. I had never considered that. 

"Do you remember when you hated my habit of wearing my work shoes in the house?" He asked. 

"Yeah but what...?" I began.

"Remember me leaving the toilet seat up?" he asked. 

"Well ... yeah but..." I asked.

"Remember me going to the strip club after work with the guys?" he asked. 

"I didn't like that," I spat. 

"Exactly!" he said, as if he had made some sort to point. 

"Exactly what?" I asked. 

"Whenever I do something that you don't like or there's something you want me to do; you've never had a problem telling me about it. And any time it was something you felt strongly about, I changed. Why didn't you give me that chance this time?" he asked. 

"Because I..." I began. "I ... I..."

"Because you just wanted to go out and fuck someone else," he said. "And as usual, I'm giving you what you want. This way you can go out and fuck whoever you want, whenever you want. There's a whole huge world out there and half of the people in it are men. Now I won't be standing in your way." 

"Ken, you've never been in my way," I said. "This is all just a mistake. It's a misunderstanding." 

"No, it isn't," he said. "You have all the facts, Maddie. You know everything that's going on. You knew about Chelsea's lack of interest in sex. You knew about it enough to talk about it with Will, but not enough to talk about your needs with your own husband. I'm sorry but you just seem only to know enough to get what you wanted. You seem to be incapable of keeping the vows we took when we got married so I'm releasing you from them."

"But that isn't what I want at all," I said. 

"And I don't want to be married to a cheater," he said. 

"But I'm not a cheater ... am I?" The lack of conviction in my voice sounded weak even to me. 

"I filed for the divorce under the no fault law," he said. "We split everything fifty/fifty. I want this to be as easy as possible, Maddie. I am not giving you my house. It has been in my family for almost a hundred years. However, at the same time, I don't want to see you hurt or go through any hardships, so you can live here until you die or begin your next relationship. Of course, I can't control who you end up with, and I'm not interested in doing so. But you are not allowed to bring any of your men into my house. I will have someone look in on the property from time to time. If you ever break that stipulation you will be thrown out of the house immediately." 

"Ken, I don't want a relationship with anyone except you. You're carrying this whole thing too far," I said. "It was only sex. You and I are supposed to be forever. But now after forty years you want to bail on me." 

"Actually, Maddie, you bailed on me; you shut me out so you could..." he began. 

"It was only sex, okay?" I said. "I told you I was wrong. But sex is what, Ken? I fucked Will two or three times a week while you were out running. You run for a longer periods of time than Will, and I spent together. Let's say that Will and I were together for twenty minutes a day three times a week. That all adds up to one fucking hour a week. You're the math specialist. There are a hundred and sixty eight hours in a week. A hundred and sixty seven of those hours, I'm focused on you." 

"But..." he said. 

"But nothing," I spat before he could finish. "I spend more time during each week having sex with you than I do with Will too." 

"I was going to say, but I never agreed to share you or have a part-time wife," he said. "Once again, again you never gave me the chance to even have an opinion on it. You started this without my input or consent. Because you knew that I wouldn't have gone for it." 

"I've already told you that I would stop," I said. 

"What and go back to boring sex with me?" he asked. "I could never force that on you."

"But Ken, I love you. I don't want us to be apart," I said. 

"And that's the problem Maddie," he said. "I loved you so much that when I saw you with Will, I snapped. I'm glad you stopped me because if you hadn't, I'd have beaten him to death. My anger was like a white-hot flame. However, it burned away every trace of love I ever had for you. And even if I could somehow get the love back, I could never trust you again. You're better off with Will. Just don't be stupid enough ever to bring him in my house, or you'll be homeless." 

"After you die, or can't take care of yourself, the house goes to Matt and Kate if they want it. After them, it goes to my brother, Ben's kids," he said. I realized that he had purposefully excluded Dylan. 

"What will I tell Matt and Kate?" I asked. 

"Do what you usually do," he said. "Make up something, that while it ignores all of the facts, lets you do whatever you want." 

I went through it all alone. I watched helplessly as the man I loved more than anything walked out of my life. He packed only the things that he thought were absolutely necessary. His Mustang didn't have much room in it. I wondered where he'd go and where he'd live. 

I hoped that he'd fail and have to come back to me. The next morning I lied and told the kids that the problems at Ken's job had gotten so bad that he had to go out of town. I'm not sure whether they knew that something was wrong or not, but the next few days were like pulling teeth. I tried to pretend that everything was normal. I'm sure that my pain shone through. 

Dylan knew. He also knew that he was partially to blame. For a twenty-year-old man, he acted remarkably like a child. He started telling his parents that he wanted to go home. On some levels, I couldn't blame him. He had always been very close with Ken and knowing that he had lost his Grandfather hit him hard. 

Chelsea came to see me a few days after Ken left. She was in tears. Will was in the hospital. He had run off of the road and crashed his old truck into a tree. He was lucky that a local farmer had found him pretty quickly. 

She told me that he had broken several ribs during the crash and also had bruising all over his body. The main problem was that the accident had exacerbated a pre-existing problem that Will had been suffering from for years. Will had been on the edge of a heart attack for some time. His blood pressure also was very high. Apparently when Will crashed, the damage to his ribs caused his heart to stop. That meant that his brain didn't receive blood for a bit too long and as a result Will was in a coma. 

Chelsea only came home long enough to change clothes and to let Ken know about Will's condition. I told her too that Ken was out of town on business. 

Matt and Kate took Dylan home to Chicago. They promised to return for Christmas if not sooner. I spent the first few days without Ken, at the hospital supporting Chelsea. 

I felt a sense of guilt about what had happened to Will. I also felt bad about telling everyone the same lie, but I told them all that he was out of town on business. Only his lawyer, Paul, knew the difference. Paul was prevented from saying anything by lawyer/client confidentiality. 

Over the next few months as Will wasted away, Chelsea and I became better friends. I tried to be the best friend to her that I could be, mostly out of guilt. I knew that I had been the reason her husband was in the situation he was in. 

From talking with the doctors, I'd found out that they believed that Will would have had the heart attack even if Ken hadn't almost beaten him to death. His ribs had healed and the damage Ken had done to him was forgotten, so at least Ken would be spared the guilt of knowing he had put his best friend in the hospital when he came back. 

I knew within my heart of hearts that Ken, and I would see each other again. When Christmas rolled around, I was forced to admit to the kids that Ken had left me. I didn't actually tell them the ins and outs of the situation. I just told them that we were going through something that we needed to work out. 

Surprisingly, they accepted it. I could tell that Matt, was upset at Ken for leaving me. Kate, on the other hand, simply said that she was sure that Ken had his reasons. That led to the two of them almost getting into an argument about it. 

While they were with me for Christmas, Dylan came into my room one evening. His parents were out, and it was the first time we'd been alone in a long time. 

He reached out and grabbed my breast, and I reacted. I spun and punched him in his stomach as hard as I could. He vomited all over the floor. 

He looked hurt. "You have no one left to blackmail me with," I spat. "You've already cost me my husband or at least helped me to lose him. You also helped to tear our family apart. Dylan your grandfather has completely left you out of his will. If he were to die today, everything he was leaving you would go to your cousins. I'm alone every night. I will never cheat on him again. Not with you or anyone else."

It was a nice speech. I wished that I had given it to someone else before I lost my husband. 

A short time after Christmas, almost a year after Ken left me; Matt and Kate divorced, too. I heard from both occasionally. They both tried to convince me to let Dylan visit me. I usually made up an excuse why he couldn't. 

Dylan's life continued to spiral out of control. He flunked out of college. He couldn't keep a job, and he seemed to be constantly getting into trouble. Will finally died, but Chelsea had already taken up with another man that she met at the hospital. He was a paraplegic. He had no feeling below the waist. She moved him into her house, and the two of them were very much in love.

I had tried dating a few times, but I didn't really click with anyone. To tell the truth, I didn't want anyone except Ken. After while I noticed that no one wanted me either. I put ads on several the Internet dating sites, but no one responded to them. I did have sex a few times, but they were men who were desperate. Not only was the sex unsatisfactory, so was their company. 

My situation was so bad that it forced me to think about my life and where I'd gone wrong. I was a lonely old woman who had ruined her own life. I didn't even want sex anymore. The funny thing about it was that from the time Ken left me, my cravings for sex had simply dried up. Those few times that I'd done it, had been more out of curiosity than desire. 

I also realized that even the things I'd done with Will had only been good because I had Ken. I could have lived without Will, but living without Ken was killing me. 

When he'd been gone for a little over three years, I looked into the mirror and didn't recognize myself anymore. I looked like a pathetic old woman. I had always looked and acted far younger than my actual age. But I found myself suddenly looking older than I was. 

And then it all went crazy. I got a call from Matt. I hadn't heard from him in months. I wasn't able to get to the phone, but he left a message. His voice sounded awful. He was all choked up, and he wanted me to call him back as soon as I could. He told me that if I couldn't call him to call Kate. 

Before I could call him back, Kate was at my door. As I looked at her through the glass window of the kitchen door, I noticed that the face my husband could never stop staring at was drawn and tight. Her expression radiated pain and sadness. Everything about her told me that the divorce had been hard on her.

That seemed odd to me because the decision to separate, had been a mutual one.

As soon as I opened the door she was in my arms almost knocking me down. 

"Kate, Honey, I'm an old lady," I said. "You can't go slamming into me like that. You might break one of my fragile old bones."

Her look of concern made me regret the attempt at a joke. That compassion was another thing that Ken had always loved about her. 

"I was joking, Kate," I told her. "What's wrong?"

"It's Dylan," she wailed. The tone and the pain in her voice was something that only a mother could manage. It conveyed despair, sorrow, and desperation all in those two words. It left me wondering what the hell my grandson had done this time. 

I had hardly laid eyes on Dylan since that time almost four years previous when he had come into my bedroom and I punched him in the stomach. But the things I'd heard made me glad of it. 

Over the years, I'd come to realize that I'd been sick back then. It turned out, as I'd told Ken, to be a medical problem. I'd been suffering all along from a hormone imbalance. But instead of going to my doctor, I had treated myself and lost my husband in the process. I knew that it was mostly my own fault, but I blamed Will and Dylan too. I especially blamed Dylan. Will was dead, so blaming him got me nothing. There was also the fact that Will wasn't family. If someone offered a starving man food, he would eat it. Will had been starving for sex. So when I offered it, the fact that I was his best friend's wife didn't matter. 

But Dylan was family; he not only betrayed me by blackmailing me, he betrayed the grandfather that he supposedly loved. And even after we'd been caught, and he saw how hurt Ken was; the little bastard tried to put a move on me. I could still remember knocking the shit out of him, and that dumb assed look he had on his face when I did it.

"Mom, Dylan has it," whined Kate. 

"Dylan has WHAT?" I asked. I was certain whatever IT was, that IT wasn't a job. The boy had been using guilt over the divorce to squeeze money from both of his parents. The part they seemed to forget was that Dylan was over twenty one when they divorced. He was an adult.

"My baby has that cancer that runs in the family," she wailed. My blood went cold. 

"Mom what am I going to do?" she cried. 

"We'll get the best doctors they have," I said. I reached out to hug her. I wished in that moment that I could take some of her pain away. However, I only felt that way about Kate. Dylan was still a snake as far as I was concerned. 

"Mom, can you get in touch with Dad for us?" she asked. "Matt told me that Dad saved his brother by giving him bone marrow. He has some sort of antibodies in his bone marrow that helped to keep it dormant for a while."

I just looked at her blankly. "Can't they use Matt's bone marrow, or one of Ben's kids could do it," I said.

"Matt was already tested," she said. "He's a close match, but he doesn't have the antibodies. I'm a double negative. I don't have the DNA or the antibodies. And Ben's children are both daughters. Apparently, this thing only manifests in the males."

By the time she got done telling me about Dylan's condition, and what they had done so far, Matt had arrived. I had to admit it; my son looked like hell. At forty-six years old, Matt looked almost exactly like his dad. The problem was Matt is twenty two years younger than Ken. 

Ken looks good for a man in his late sixties. But Matt just looked old. He saw Kate and went to her. They hugged, and Matt told her that everything would be alright. 

* * * * * *

Ken

Somehow it just never got old. No matter how many times I woke up, I smiled. It wasn't like before. I could never go back to that. I could never go back to being a fool. 

I moved the leg that was thrown over me to the side just a bit, only to have it snap back to its original position or very close to it. Even in her sleep, Miranda seemed reluctant to let go of me. 

"Where ya goin'?" she mumbled sleepily. 

"Sun's up," I said. "I'm going for my run."

"I'll go with you," she said, sitting up in the bed. As she wiped the sleep from her eyes and stretched, she took my breath away. 

Her heavy breasts jiggled a bit as she rubbed some circulation back into the same arms that had been wrapped so tightly around me all night. She looked up suddenly and caught me staring at her. She smiled showing me the dental work that I was still paying for. I averted my eyes.

"S' okay, Dummy. You're supposed to look at me," she grinned. "I like the way it makes me feel when you look at me. When you stop looking at me, I'll get upset."

"I just don't ever want you to think that..." I began. 

"God, what a dummy," she gushed reaching out to hug me as tightly as she could. "You're not like that. No one has ever treated me the way you do. Things were getting pretty bad for me before you stumbled into my life. Have I ever told you..."

"Every day," I said. "And I love you too. Randa, you gave me back my smile. I didn't think I would ever be happy again until we..." 

"Are you ever going to let me finish a sentence?" she asked. "I was going to tell you a new fact about the life of Miranda."

"I'm not sure I can believe anything you're about to say," I told her. She looked at me with a confused look on her face. I grabbed her and pulled her to me. I had forgotten how easy it was to frighten her. However, after the life she'd had, who could blame her. 

"You don't even know how to pronounce your name correctly," I told her. "Your name is not "Miranda," it's "MyRanda." Don't make me correct you again."

"You're the only one who calls me that," she said, beaming. Her smile lit up the darkened room. 

"I'd better be," I said in mock anger. 

"Kenny ... No one else wants me," she said quietly. 

"Randa, are you high?" I laughed. "Have you ever looked in a mirror?"

"They don't want me, Dummy," she said, pulling me even closer. "They just want to fuck me. 

"You mean like I did last night," I smirked. That got me a sharp punch in the stomach. 

"Ken, I'm not sure you even know how to fuck!" she laughed. This time, echoes of my past pierced through my happiness. I remember how boring I'd been told sex with me was by the woman I had thought to spend my life with. It still hurt. 




Looking Back



Seeing my expression, she reacted immediately. "Kenny, what I meant was, anybody can fuck. Fucking is what happens when some guy who just wants some pussy gets between your legs and just pounds the shit out of you with no regard for how you feel, or if you're having a good time. They don't care about you or what happens to you afterwards. They just want to get on, get off, and get out of you." 

"Kenny, I have never had anyone make me feel the way you do. You can make me cum just by kissing me," she said. 

"Can I actually tell you what I was going to tell you in the first place, Mr. Dummy?" she asked. The playfully formal addition of "Mr." before "Dummy," told me that she was back to being herself. 

"Please proceed milady," I said. 

"Anyway ... you already know my history with men and with people in general," she began. "My life isn't like most women. But did you know that you were the first man I ever went after? You're my first boyfriend ... okay that sounds so high school ... you're my first serious relationship."

I was shocked. For a long time, I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. After being together for four years, I was still finding new things about her. Now I understood why she clung so tightly to me all the time. She was as afraid of losing me as I was her. 

On paper, we didn't work. I mean I'm in my sixties, nearing seventy. Miranda is forty three. She's four years younger than my son. And for some reason, she reminds me of my daughter, Kate. However, I've never told her that because Miranda is fiercely jealous and also has a severe inferiority complex. 

But even though the math is against us, our mutual needs and similar outlooks and personalities have welded us together in a manner that is far stronger than I would ever have expected. 

"How is that possible?" I asked. She just shrugged her shoulders. 

"I want you to be my last one too," she said so quietly that she thought I wouldn't hear her. 

"MyRanda, do you want to get married?" I asked her as I got out of the bed, finally.

For a long time, she didn't say a word. I looked back to see that she had the blankets over her head. I also didn't see the rise and fall of her chest. I snatched the blankets away and straddled her. Her eyes were open in shock. 

"Ken, you can't ... I'm...!" she began. 

"Don't say it..." I warned. "We've been through this before. If you start that shit I'll wipe your mouth out with soap."

"Ken do you really mean that?" she asked.

"Hell yeah!" I said. "We have plenty of soap. We've got that liquid hand soap. We've got dish soap. We've got laundry soap. We have powdered soap..."

"Grrrrr," she said grabbing my hand. "Not that part, Dummy, the other part. And stop cursing. It sounds funny when you do it."

"Randa, do you ... mrrgh" I began again. She quickly clamped her hand over my mouth to silence me. 

"Were you getting ready to ask me again?" she asked excitedly. I nodded. 

"Well don't ... I mean you can't ... not like this ... Oh God you're so dumb! I love you soooo much. And this is ... I should probably tell you now ... oh my God this is awful. Your timing sucks Mister!" Her outburst was as usual typical Miranda. She was crying and had the biggest mile on her face at the same time. 

"Miranda, what's going on?" I asked her. "Do you want me to put the Marvin Gay album on?" 

"Ken ... Kenny ... uhm I should have told you this a couple of days ago, but I didn't know how you were going to take it," she said. "I mean you're old ... okay that's not what I meant. I mean you are old, but shit I'm old too. In some ways I'm older than you are and..."

"God dammit, Randa, are we getting married or ... mrrgh?" I tried to get it out. I really did. 

"Not yet, Dummy," she spat. "Anyway, Ken, I'm ... well ... we're..."

"Randa, do you love me or..." I began. 

"Of course, course I love you stupid," she spat angrily. "Can you shut the fuck up long enough for me to tell you that we're going to have a God damned baby or not?"

I was floored. I didn't know what to say. "But, I'm ... old!" I said in shock. And then my brain must've ceased to function. "Are you sure that I'm the fa..." I tried to pull it back as I realized what I was asking, but it was too late. In three seconds of brainless rambling, I had severely damaged the trust we'd built over the past four years. 

Miranda jumped off of the bed and ran into the bathroom, crying. I heard the lock click shut, just as I reached it and the sounds of her crying her heart out. I felt like shit. 

"Randa, Honey ... I'm sorry," I said. "I was just surprised. Can we talk about this?" 

"Nooo!" she sniffled through the door.

"Randa get out of the way," I warned. "I'm going to break the door down." I lowered one shoulder the way I used to when I played football and charged the door. I struck the door with all of my might. The door didn't budge, but I rebounded off of it and flew backwards, landing awkwardly on my ass. 

"Shit, that hurt," I said. 

"You deserved it," she laughed. She came out of the bathroom with tears still on her cheeks. "Are you alright?" 

"I'm not sure," I said. "I have to get into better shape, Miranda. Shit, I'm gonna have to play baseball again and football. Shit I always sucked at basketball. Please tell me that my kid isn't gonna play soccer. I may be old fashioned, but soccer is not a major sport. And neither is hockey." She tried to pick me up, but I pulled her down onto the floor beside me. 

"I wanted to tell you a couple of days ago," she began. 

"You know ... maybe he'll want to drive NASCAR," I said. "Now that's a sport for my son!"

"I wasn't sure how you would take it," she said. "I swear to you that in the four years that we've been together no one else has touched me. It really is your baby Ken. And to tell you the truth, I wanted it..."

"He's going to be the best NASCAR driver EVER!" I gushed. 

"What if he's a she?" she asked. 

"Then she'll be the first real female NASCAR driver and the first female NASCAR champion," I declared. 

"I'm going to have to teach her to drive as soon as she's born," I said. 

"Can she walk first?" asked Miranda. She was smiling again.

"Now you're just being silly," I said. "She doesn't need to be able to walk to drive." She hugged me again. 

"Ouch that hurt," I said rubbing my sore shoulder. 

"What were you expecting, Dummy?" she asked. "All of our doors are solid oak, and you're like a thousand years old."

"She's driving for Ford!" I said. "No daughter of mine is driving for Chevy."

"Ken..." she began in a small voice. "Do you really want me to marry you?" 

"I tried to ask you twice, didn't I?" I said. 

"I didn't want you to think you HAD to marry me because of the baby," she said. 

"Randa, I asked you BEFORE you told me about the baby," I said softly. "I asked you because I love you."

"Well ask me again," she said softly. 

"MyRanda, love of my life, will you ... mrrgh" I began before she clamped her hand over my mouth again. 

"Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, Randa!" I spat. 

"Don't curse at me in army talk, Dummy," she smiled. "I'm gonna say yes, but I don't want you to ask me like this. This is the only time I'm gonna get married so you have to do it right. You have to take me to a restaurant. And we have to be dressed up. And you have to get down on one knee and..."

"And we should get started before you start to look pregnant, and everyone in town thinks we had to get married," I said. 

"Fuck them," she spat. "Besides everyone in town loves us. It's not like we were back in Ohio where I grew up, and you found me." 

"Well we still have to move quick," I said. "I've heard that extra-large wedding gowns cost more and..." Before I could finish a sofa cushion hit me in the head. 

I never did get to go for my run that morning. We went out for breakfast, where Miranda told everyone we knew that we were getting married. Surprisingly, no one was even the least bit surprised. In fact, most of the people we knew thought we already were married. The few that we told that we were pregnant raised an eyebrow. 

"Wow, still got some gas in the tank, huh?" said our waitress, Sally, looking at me. I nodded and smiled until Miranda kicked me in the shin under the table. 

"Ken, don't make me beat that skank's ass," spat Miranda as soon as Sally was out of earshot. 

After breakfast, we went to the jewelry shop at a nearby shopping mall. Miranda picked out the ring I would give her when I proposed to her that evening. She had already made reservations at the restaurant she wanted me to propose to her at. She had also asked for seats in the area of the restaurant she wanted. She had picked out what she wanted me to wear and made us appointments for later that day at a unisex salon, where I would get my haircut while she got hers done. 

She also told me to practice my proposal, and she wanted it to be creative, dramatic, theatrical and most of all spontaneous. "I'm only going to do this once Ken," she gushed. "So it has to be perfect." 

"Maybe we should have a news crew there," I laughed. 

"No but I do have Samantha Green's husband, Al," she said. "He's going to videotape your proposal." 

"What if I don't do it right?" I joked. "Will we do a second take?" 

"Nope, I'll just say no," she said. "And your daughter, the world-famous NASCAR driver will be born to unmarried parents."

I knew that my life would never be the same. But I welcomed what was to come. Sometimes good things happened when you least expected them. Looking back, I had never expected to be truly happy again. Whenever I looked backwards, as happy as I was with Miranda, I always felt as though I had lost something. I always felt as if the life and the people I had walked away from were somehow better than what I had. 

Don't get me wrong, I am so grateful to have Randa in my life that I give thanks to God every day. I always thought that I would be alone for the rest of my days. I especially never expected to meet her or anyone so soon after leaving Michigan. And even then because of the differences in our ages, I never saw us as relationship material. And even after all of those doubts, I really didn't expect marriage or anything else. I always expected someone closer to her age to come along and steal her. 

I was grateful for every day that we shared, and although she always told me that we would be together forever, I just never expected it. 

We had just parked my Mustang in our driveway and gone into the house when the fates decided to just shit all over my cornflakes. I had left the tiny bag containing the jewelry box with Miranda's ring in the Mustang's glove box. That way, we wouldn't forget it. 

Miranda, of course, decided that she needed to practice flouncing her hand around with her ring, on so she could catch the light with it so everyone would notice. 

She sent me back outside to retrieve the ring. That was when all of the fecal matter from the Gods descended into the cereal bowl of my existence, splattering all over the aforementioned corn flakes. 

"Ken?" said someone from behind me. The voice was familiar and full of emotion. The next thing I knew I was being hugged. I looked into the eyes of my ex-wife. My son was right beside her. 

"What the fuck are you doing here, Madeline?" I asked in shock. 

"We hired a PI to find you," she said. "It's time for you to come home, Honey. Your family needs you." 

"Yeah, Dad," said Matt. "You're lucky Mom even wants to take you back after you ran out on her!" I just looked at him. 

"Matthew, you really need to get your facts straight before you say stupid things," I said. "It makes you seem like a fool."

"Ken, you have to come back," said Maddie trying to shift the focus. "Our grandson needs you. He has the same cancer your brother got." 

"What the fuck does that have to do with me?" I asked. "Get off of my property before I have you arrested!" I turned to go back inside of my house, leaving them standing there. 

"But ... he'll die," said Maddie. 

"Thousands of people die every day," I said. "And they all manage to die or even live ... without me."

* * * * * *

Maddie

As Matt and I left, we were both shocked. Neither of us had expected that anything like what happened would have occurred. Of course, I had my own scenario in mind that I hoped would happen. But it was clear that even after four years, Ken's anger was unabated. To me that was a good sign. If he was still that angry, it meant that he still had feelings for me; very strong ones. 

Maybe I could use that to get him to help Matt. 

"Mom, what's wrong with that asshole?" yelled Matt. "I always thought that there was something wrong with him for just running off and leaving you. But now I think he's senile. Maybe he has Dimentia?" Suddenly Matt got the weirdest look on his face. 

As we drove through the streets of the unfamiliar town, his smile only broadened. When we got back to the motel we were rooming in, his smile had broadened to the point of looking like a Cheshire Cat.

Kate was sitting in the same chair she'd been sitting in when we left a half hour before. She was still tying to get in touch with a cancer specialist from the hospital where Ken's brother Ben had been treated. That doctor was now retired. Several of his students and associates were still practicing, but Kate wanted the original doctor. She had been making literally hundreds of phone calls a day to that specialist and very other notable cancer specialist and clinic she could find. Her dedication was astounding. 

As soon as she saw us, she put the phone down and hit us with the same smile that had been forcing doctor's, nurse's and medical techs of all kinds to bend to her will. 

"When is Dad coming?" she asked. Matt's smile suddenly faded. 

"That's why we got fucking divorced," he spat. 

"No it isn't," she said. "Anyway...when is he coming over? Or is he just going jump on a plane and meet us back in Michigan?" 

"He got kind of pissed as soon as he saw us," said Matt. "He's not coming. We're going to have to do something else. But I have an idea." 

"I'm listening," said Kate. 

"I think he's senile," said Matt. "I'm going to call the police and have him arrested for mental incapability. Then we'll committ him. As his family we'll get to make all of his medical decisions. So he'll be donating bone marrow whether he wants to or not."

"The two of you can share a room in the nut house," spat Kate. "We are not doing anything like that to dad. The police would do an investigation of his mental state. And when they find out that he's okay, they'll release him. You'll be charged with filing a false report, and Dad will be even more angry at us. What did you do to piss him off!"

"You see what I mean?" asked Matt. "Do you know what she said when he first ran off and left you, Mom? She said she was sure he had his reasons. She acted like it was your fault." 

I didn't say anything. And Kate asked again. "What did you do Matt?" she asked. 

"Were you openly hostile? Did you ask him nicely, or did you go over there yelling and screaming like you always do?" 

"Actually it was Mom who did all of the talking," said Matt. "He seemed really pissed to see her. I was just defending Mom." 

"So let's look at this logically," said Kate. "If Dad did something wrong, he'd be glad to have Mom come and forgive him. He'd be busting his ass to get back..."

I had to interrupt before my daughter ruined things. "That's the way we should handle this," I said. "We have the answer right here." 

"What?" said Matt and Kate at the same time. 

"We just send Kate," I said. "First off, she can charm the paint off of a moving car. And secondly your Dad has always loved her. He used to tell me that she was the best and smartest thing you ever did."

"My own God damned father had the hots for my wife?" yelled Matt. 

"Of course not Matt. Don't be stupid. Your father just loved her, like a daughter. He thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. You know how everyone has a secret crush. Most of the time it's some movie star or some singer. In your Dad's case...it was Kate. But he never did or said anything. He loved me more than anything on earth. So anyway, maybe Kate can succeed where we failed. He could never say no to her." 

"Okay, give me the keys. I'll go see Dad," said Kate. 

"Not alone you're not," spat Matt. "Now that we know that the two of you have the hots for each other. You are not going anywhere near him without me. That's all I need. My wife screwing my Dad."

"We're not married any more," said Kate snatching the keys. "And there's nothing on earth I won't do to save my baby."

* * * * * *

Ken

I was just getting out of the shower when I heard the doorbell. A few seconds later I heard Randa going to answer the door. The clunk-step-clunk sound she was making told me that she was going to the door with only one shoe on. 

I heard the door open and then nothing. The silence was deafening so I threw on a robe and headed into the living room. Once I got there I saw Miranda just standing there glaring at my daughter. I suppose I should have known that Kate would show up. 

But at the time I was too busy slapping myself on the forehead about something that I should have noticed years ago. Miranda, the mother of my soon to be second child and my soon to be fiancé was the spitting image of Kate. 

Okay, they weren't exactly twins. Kate was far classier, but she'd had far more opportunities in life and better situations in which to develop her manners. Kate was also taller and had that God damned smile. 

Randa on the other hand had bigger breasts and a rounder fuller ass. If Kate was the face that could launch a thousand ships, Miranda had a body that could stop traffic at rush hour. 

They had the same heart shaped faces, and almost the same beautiful eyes. Kate's were as blue as the sea. Miranda's were as green as an emerald. Their mouths were identical although the expressions differed. Where Miranda's mouth was usually a straight line, she could sometimes, when extremely happy, come very close to matching Kate's smile. 

At that point in time though, they were both pissed and although neither had uttered a sound, it was only the calm before the storm. All I wanted to do was find shelter from the explosion of estrogen that was about to blow. 

"Miranda, you whore, what are you doing in my father's house?" screamed Kate. 

"As I recall," spat Miranda. "Your father wasn't a fucking saint. He was an alcoholic and he doesn't live here." 

"You've probably fucked so many men that you've got my father mixed up with someone else," hissed Kate. 

"Oh no! I remember him well," said Miranda. "I always remember people who were supposed to be my family members but treated me like shit. I especially remember the ones who looked down on me when people were around and tried to fuck me when they weren't. He was my mother's brother. He wasn't supposed to try to get me drunk and fuck me." 

Kate's hand went to her mouth she was shocked. 

"Why are you surprised, Katie? You were just as bad. You were my favorite cousin and you deserted me just like the rest. Only it hurt more coming from you. I looked up to you. I wanted to be just like you. When you turned your back on me, I..." 

"Miranda, I went away to college," said Kate. "When I came home you were the town whore. According to every one I spoke to, including your parents you had screwed almost every guy in town and a lot of them more than once." 

"And you believed it of course," said Miranda. "After everything we'd..." Randa started crying and that was my cue. I went into the room and swept her into my arms. I sat down on our sofa with Randa on my lap, rocking her.




Looking Back



"Kate, I think you should leave," I said. She looked so hurt that I felt bad. 

"Dad, what is she to you?" asked Kate. 

"She's...everything!" I said fiercely. "We had planned a very special evening for tonight and nothing is going to stop that from happening. I already know what you want. I already told your husband and your mother that I can't help you. It was good seeing you again, but you really need to go."

"Dad, Matt and I are no longer married," she said. "And I don't know what is going on between you and my cousin, or why you won't help your own grandson. Something is really wrong here, so can you put off your special night so we can talk?" She gave me her smile, full blast. 

"No," I said. "There is nothing in the world that I would stop or delay tonight for."

"Fine, we'll talk in the morning," she said. "We'll settle all of this shit once and for all." 

"There's nothing to settle," I said. 

"Dad...please?" she said. "I know I'm not your real daughter, but I always wished I was. And I always felt like I was...so for me, can we just talk and get this all out?"

"He said no!" said Miranda. "And you can't have him. If you don't leave us alone, I'll kick sparks off your skinny ass." 

"Miranda, this is none of your business," said Kate. "This is family business." 

"Do you know what this is?" asked Miranda. She flashed her hand and her ring caught the light. "I am his family. And he's mine. We're getting married and we're gonna..." she hesitated. "We gonna stay together for always." 

"I'll be here early, tomorrow," said Kate. "I'll come alone so maybe I can work out what's going on between my cousin and me. Then we'll all get together to talk abut the rest. I have a feeling that some shit is going to hit some fans. Maybe we'll all smell bad when this is over." 

After Kate left, Miranda looked me in the eye. "You don't love me at all," she said with tears in her eyes. "You just like me because I look like her." 

"Randa, you're full of shit," I said. "If you don't get your act straight, I won't be asking you anything tonight except to pass the salt."

"Oh no, Dummy," she said. "I have to cut down on the salt. I'm pregnant."

"Yeah but you're not pregnant alone," I said. "Nothing has changed. I still love you more than anything on earth. My daughter, my son, my ex wife and my grandson can all go to hell. You two are my family." 

"Well I'm inviting my entire family to the wedding," she smirked. 

"Okay," I said. "We'll send out the invitations as soon as you get all of their addresses. But I thought you didn't have any family." 

"I have you and our NASCAR driving baby," she smiled. "Excuse me, Honey, I have to get dressed." 

Our evening was everything that Randa wanted. What it lacked in spontaneity, it made up in emotion. When I finally got down on one knee, every eye in the restaurant was on us. Before I could even get to the question, Miranda screamed, "Yes!" so loudly that some of the cooks came out of the kitchen to see what had happened. I was less than surprised when a special dessert was delivered to our table. I was surprised though when I saw the bill and noticed that it was on the house. I would have sworn that Miranda had ordered it. 

When we got home, Miranda insisted on watching the video several times. She posted it to her Facebook page and loaded it onto her phone as well. By the third time through it, I was exhausted and ready to go to bed. 

Miranda had other ideas though. We went to bed but not to sleep. I guess our sex was boring. We only ever used two or three positions. That evening it was flat out married sex. Miranda lay down and pulled me on top of her. Our kisses were like flames. They got hotter and hotter. I don't,t remember anything as intense as our coupling that evening. 

Although we didn't slam each other, small movements gave big impact. We were so hot for each other that it felt as if Miranda's vagina jacked me off. When I finished it just seemed like the sperm came up from my toes and left the end of my dick like water out of a fire hose. 

I thought that Miranda was having a seizure when she joined me in orgasmic bliss. We continued kissing until we fell asleep in each other's arms. 

We woke and went out to run. Well...I run, Miranda follows me on her bike. When we got back to the house, with Miranda guiding her bike with one hand and holding my hand with the other, we found Kate sitting on the porch waiting for us. 

If she had anything to say about it, she kept her tongue. She sat in the kitchen while Miranda and I showered. 

After our shower, the three of us made breakfast together and ate it out on the deck behind the house. 

We were just finishing the meal when Miranda began speaking. 

"I wanted so badly to be you," she said to Kate. "I tried to act like you. I dressed like you. I did the things that you did. I even tried to talk like you. Your hair hasn't changed much in over twenty years. And I guess I'm still trying to look like you. 

You went away to college. You didn't come home very often, Kate. I started to hear things. You had met a really special man and had fallen in love. I wanted to fall in love too. At eighteen, I was a study in contrasts. My mother was a religious zealot, and like yours, my father was an alcoholic. 

At eighteen, because of my mother's strict guidelines for what is and is not proper for a young girl, I had never been kissed. 

The next thing I heard, you were dropping out of school because you'd gotten married and were expecting a baby. Your life seemed magical to me. My part of the family couldn't send me to college. I had to work and earn money to try to send myself. 

I took a job in a restaurant, waiting tables and my inexperience proved to be my undoing. I worked a Super Bowl party at the restaurant and ended up dead on my feet after carrying hundreds of orders of wings and chips and beer and everything else they had . 

I accepted a ride home from a couple of guys that I'd gone to school with. They offered me beer. I was tired and thirsty, so I accepted. I had never drank beer before. I had no idea what it was supposed to taste like. So I never noticed what they'd put into it. 

To this day, I still don't remember any of what happened. I did get to see the video that they submitted to the court. I woke up by the side of the road near my house the next morning. I was no longer a virgin. I had no panties, no bra and enough dried, crusty semen between my legs to fill a cup. 

I told my mother what had happened and we called the police. I only remembered the two guys I had left the restaurant with. But it turned out that there were six men who'd had sex with me while I was drugged and unable to say no. 

One of the guys had videotaped it on his cellphone. That video made it seem that I had been a willing participant. The news of the video and what it showed, spread through our small town like wildfire. Over night, I was branded a whore and all of the men got off and were released. None of them did any time. 

After that no one wanted to have anything to do with me. At least not around other people. The people I called friends, had deserted me, as had most of my family. My mother tended to punish me for everything then. I couldn't do anything right. She also began to suggest that I find other accommodations. I was fired from the restaurant because my presence was supposedly driving off customers. 

I went through job after job and finally ended up as a bar maid. I was alone and lonely and ripe for the picking. I fell for the first guy with a line of shit to come along. I really thought that I, like you had found my Prince Charming. He wined me and dined me and then fucked me until he was drained. I just let him do whatever he wanted because I wanted so much to be loved. 

I was a little girl in the body of a woman. I thought I had found my Prince Charming and intended to do anything I had to in order to keep him. Everyone in town except me knew that Prince Charming was married and had kids. My reputation took another downward leap. Over the next few years I went from one bad relationship to the next. 

I started drinking just to get away from the pain I felt when people passed me on the street and called me names. I was always alone. The only time I wasn't was when I was with a man. It was like some sort if vicious cycle that I couldn't get out of. I'd get drunk and end up getting fucked. Most of the time I had no idea who'd done it. 

I'd feel like shit afterwards, which would lead to more drinking. And the whole thing started over again. I didn't even like sex, I had no good memories of it. I woke up one day and realized that I was thirty years old. No one in town wanted a relationship with me. Well...the temporary relationships they wanted didn't 't count. 

And after being called a whore every day for as long as I could remember, I just started to act like one. No...I never took any money for it, but it's what I was, just the same. I was lucky not to ever pick up any diseases. I was also not so lucky. Our family abandoned me. They never even tried. It wouldn't have taken much effort. All I ever wanted was someone who wanted me. 

The women in the family wanted nothing to do with me. But the men, my uncles, my cousins...all of them. They came by regularly. As I got older and not so pretty, they began to treat me like shit. I was little more than a plaything or a joke to them. I guess they'd all had me enough times that they were done with me. There were younger and prettier girls and there's nothing worse than a forty year old toothless whore."

"How did you lose your teeth?" asked Kate. 

"One of our cousins," said Miranda. "The big one, Aunt Esther's oldest, Horace. The one they call horse. I was really sick and throwing up. I just didn't feel like doing anything. Not that I ever did. I usually just let them do what they wanted so they didn't beat me up. I tried to stay away from our family and friends because it was just too weird.

Listen, no one likes to be turned down by a slut. All the other men laugh at them. So Horse didn't want to take no for an answer. 

He pushed me down onto the floor right in the bar, with me yelling, "No," and "Stop." Everyone in the bar, including some of the women thought it was hilarious that my own cousin was about to rape me. Finally he pulled out his dick. It was more like something you'd find on a cat, a really small cat, so that wasn't why they called him Horse. 

As he got close to me I just threw up everything in my stomach all over him and his tiny dick. The guys in the bar were rolling with laughter. Then one of them yelled out, "Hey, Horse, you're so ugly you made a whore vomit!" They laughed even harder after that . So, Horace, our cousin, a member of the family you're so proud of, reared back and punched me in the mouth like I was a man. He hit me so hard I flew across the floor. 

My entire face was swollen and bruised and I lost all of my front teeth. There was blood all over the place. The people in the bar just laughed. The man who owned the bar came over and told me to get out of his place because I was causing a scene. He gave Horse a beer on the house and they moved on with their evening. 

And that was my life. People in our small Ohio town treated me like shit, but I didn't know anything else. It was common for people to yell at me, or hit me or piss on me and the members of your family, they were no longer mine, were the worst. It was almost as if they needed to distance themselves from me, so they were worse and more brutal than everyone else. That lasted until July 3rd 2010. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was early in the evening. Everyone was getting ready to party the next day. The bar hoppers were getting started early. Half of the men in the bar were already drunk . A couple of guys from th next town over thought it would be a good thing, some sort of bonding experience to run a train on the town whore. And they were in luck, I was waitressing there at that moment. Six of them wanted in on it and a couple more guys were thinking about it.

My boss, the guy who owned the bar, just looked at me and told me to take it outside or I was fired. I tried to tell him that I didn't want to do it. Two of them grabbed me by my arms and started pulling me, kicking and screaming towards the door. 

And then I heard a voice from somewhere in the bar. "Leave her alone, guys. She said, "No!" 

Two of the guys sat back down and went back to their drinking, but that still left four of them and they were pissed. My savior, didn't look like he had a chance. He was older than all of the other guys by at least twenty years and smaller than them too. But he had the benefit of being sober. 

He pushed his way over to me. I don't think he'd have made it through the crowd, but a lot of people, sensing that there was going to be a fight, let him through. 

I was lying on the floor where they left me. I was crying my eyes out and half drunk myself. But when I saw him there standing over me looking up at those four guys, I wondered if he was crazy. 

"Mister, that's the town whore. She fucks everybody," said one of the guys. 

"She still said, "No," Kenny told him. "What's wrong can't you get a woman who's willing?"

He was really pissing them off. The biggest one of them reached towards him. I guess he thought he would just knock Ken out of the way and take me. I was sure it would happen too. But Ken reached down and grabbed one of those wooden chairs they have at the tables in bars. He swung the chair so hard that he broke it on the guy's neck and shoulder. The guy went down like he'd been hit with an axe. The fact that he was drunk out of his mind might've made it easier, but he was the biggest one of them and he was out like a light.

His friends all took a step back and looked at each other. They were even more pissed off then. I was sure they were about to all jump him at the same time. But before they could move, we heard three gunshots. I looked up and saw that the police had arrived. One of the officers had shot his gun up into the ceiling. It was a really stupid thing to do since there were apartments over the bar. I know because I lived in one of them. 

But anyway his stupid, theatrical, TV type move shocked everyone and froze them on the spot. "Miranda, that's it. We've been putting up with your shit for longer than I've been alive. I want you out of town. This is a goog God fearing community. There's no place for people like you here," said the cop. 

"But she didn't do anything," said Ken. "She was just working and those guys decided to gang rape her." 

"What, were they arguing over the price?" asked one of the cops. They all laughed.

"Aren't you going to it them in jail, or at least charge them with something?" asked Ken. 

"Mister, you can't rape a whore," said another one of the cops. 

"Now, we ain't gonna charge YOU with assault, for what you did to that guy, but I think you should get into that hopped up Mustang of yours and get going to wherever you were headed," said the cop who'd done the shooting. 

"Yeah, drive safely, sir," said the other one. "You know what will happen if you speed, don't you?" 

"Nothing," spat Ken. "This is a small town. You don't have any helicopters. If I decided to speed, there's no way you could catch me." He turned and walked out of the bar.

Everyone in the bar who had heard the exchange, laughed at the cops as Ken left. One of the cops who needed something to do looked at me. He decided to take their humiliation out on me. "I thought we told you to get your ass out of town," he sneered. "You're the cause of all of this, now git."

"But I have to get my stuff," I said. The look he gave me was angry enough to pierce even my drunken haze. I staggered out of the bar into the street. The sudden blast of warm air outside of the bar was enough to make me dizzy. The air conditioning in the bar had helped to keep me on my feet. I lurched from side to side and was pushed by a couple of people Until I felt two strong arms grab me just as blackness descended over my consciousness. The last thing I heard was someone from the bar, saying, "Shit, it's a damned shame to send those titties out of town."

When I awoke it was the next morning. I was wide awake and something smelled really good. I felt better than I had in a long time even with the hangover I had. There was a tray full of bacon, toast and eggs in front of me. That explained the smell. 

I looked up into the kindest eyes I had ever seen. 

"Are you ready for breakfast?" he asked. 

"Uhm hm," I replied trying to keep my mouth closed. "Where are we?"

"We're about fifty miles south of the town I found you in," he said. "There's a greyhound bus terminal just across the street from this motel. I'll give you enough money for a ticket back home. I figure when all of the crap dies down you can go back." 

I just nodded. My head was reeling. I loved the way he spoke to me, as if I was an actual person and not just a thing. He looked good too. There was a real sadness in his eyes. And there was pain too. But his eyes were very kind. And underneath the sadness you got the idea that he was a happy person, normally. It just seemed like something had taken that happiness away from him. 

As we ate, he didn't say anything and I didn't either. I wanted to find some way to make sure he knew that I appreciated everything he's done for me. 

"Did you enjoy it? Was it good?" I asked. 

"What?" he asked. 

"You know...sex...sleeping with me?" I said. 

"Honey, we didn't have sex," he laughed. "You were in the bed. I was on the sofa. I only got one room because you were drunk and I was afraid that something would happen to you during the night. You were what they call, "super drunk." You hear stories of all of those famous rock stars drowning in their own vomit when they're drunk or on drugs. I just didn't want that to happen to you." 

I was floored. First because I had never run into a man who'd had a chance to have me and hadn't wanted to. And secondly because the guy was a stranger and he really seemed to care about me. He could've easily just left me back in Ohio. Or he could've just fucked me and left me by the side of the road. 

The most confusing thing was that he had put me in the bed, fully clothed, and curled himself up on that tiny sofa to sleep. 

"Where are you headed?" I asked him. "Home to your family?" 

"I don't have much of a family left," he said. "I'm headed for a new place to start over." It sounded really good to me. I had nothing better going on and something Inside of me seemed to think that it was what I was supposed to do. When I first asked him if I could tag along with him for a while, he sighed and nodded his head. I got the idea that he really didn't want to be alone either. 

To make a long story short, we drove through the country looking for a place that felt good. When we got here, we knew that this was the place. It took us a month in a cheap motel before we bought this place. 

It didn't look like this at first. Ken and I did most of the work ourselves. I learned to paint and plaster and drive nails. We also did most of the landscaping and believe it or not, we built this deck ourselves. It was just the two of us and a lot of a You tube videos and some help from Home Depot.

Ken and I had a lot of time to get to know each other. He'd been a complete gentleman for the whole time, that we'd been together. The only thing I hated was the fact that he made sure that I understood that it was not his house, but ours, until I found someone closer to my age that I wanted to be with. 

I was constantly telling him that I was never going to leave. After we got my teeth fixed, that was a story in itself. These are implants. They don 't come out and putting them in hurt...Bad!




Looking Back



This is the first in a series of stories in which a successful business woman looks back on her life and asks herself whether she is a slut. In each story she tells, in the italicized portion of the story, a tale of one of her more memorable sexual experiences. If you just want the sex, skip to the part of each story in italics. 

*****

2010 

"I'm 60 years old, and I'm a slut," I said quietly to myself. I leaned back in a favorite armchair in a bedroom of my home in the Pacific Heights district of San Francisco. "Katherine O'Riley, you are a slut and have been one since you were about seventeen." I took a sip of wine and contemplated what I had just said. 

The wine was exquisite, a ten year old Grand Cru Burgundy (an Aloxe-Corton, Clos du Roi, for those of you with a passion for detail), retrieved from my wine cellar earlier in the day and opened to breathe before I went out to an early dinner with a few friends to celebrate my birthday. I had restrained my drinking at dinner, knowing that I had this stunning bottle of Burgundy awaiting me at home. I let the wine swirl about my mouth as I savored the complex fruit flavors and then the subtle tannins, subdued by ten years of aging, first in French oak and then the bottle. Marvelous, I thought. A great bottle of wine is one of the best birthday presents you can give yourself. 

Now there was nothing particularly troubling to me about being sixty years old. Thanks to a regular exercise program, I was still reasonably fit and trim, and according to my most recent physical, none of the customary diseases of aging had set in yet. I was still working full time as the owner and general manager of a small independent publishing company, Dark Secrets Publishing. I learned the trade working for one of the major publishing houses, but I love owning my own shop. We specialize in erotic materials, which are a hot item these days. I get along well with the people who work for me and with the authors and booksellers I deal with. I've even learned to put up with Amazon—a necessary evil in the book publishing business. Unlike others I know who have grown tired of their careers, I still thoroughly enjoy my work. Maybe it's because I publish dirty books, I told myself with a small giggle. I'm told I have a delightful laugh. 

I stood, setting my wine glass on a table, and slowly stripped off my clothes. After another sip of wine, I stepped naked before a floor-to-ceiling mirror. Not bad for an old broad, I thought. My 34C breasts, while no longer "perky," still set nicely on my chest without the appalling sag most women my age have. My belly, albeit a bit softer than it had been forty years ago, was still trim and easily defined a waistline above my hips. My hips, always a bit broader than I would have liked and now even a bit broader than they had been, were still tight without the flab and cellulite of old age. I turned quickly, looking over my shoulder to examine my ass. A little rounder than it had been at twenty-five, but still what many men, including some I knew well, would call "a nice ass," with no appreciable sag. I sipped a bit more wine as I appraised my legs. Long enough to give me my overall height of 5'-8" and, thanks to my regular running program, they remained lean and hard. My hair was shoulder length and thick, a glossy raven in its current incarnation. I was determined not to let any gray show. My hair had been through a lot of different colors and styles over the years, but I had to admit, I was never totally satisfied with any of them, especially the mousy brown I had grown up with. Ah well, changing hair colors is a woman's prerogative. 

I took another mouthful of the Corton. "Oh my," I said aloud in response to the nuanced flavors of the wine. Then I smiled as I thought of one more item on my list of accomplishments: "Oh, and I still thoroughly enjoy sex," I said aloud. I knew so many women my age who have long ago given up sex. "What fools these mortals be," I quoted, smiling as I sat down, still naked, in an armchair. All in all I thought, given that I had always assumed I would never live this long, getting to sixty is something of an accomplishment. I crossed my legs, continuing to appraise myself in the mirror, while reaching for the bottle on the adjoining table to refill my waning glass. "Yes, Kate (I go by Kate rather than the more formal Katherine. Only my Mother called me Katherine, and then it was usually when I was in trouble), all things considered you're looking pretty damned good." 

The new idea was this business of being a slut. "Really? A slut?" I asked myself. Well, I had to admit that I seriously enjoyed sex. I had enjoyed sex from the time I passed puberty, and I still enjoy it today. And while I had eventually learned to occasionally say, "no," I never felt it necessary to do that all the time. But that doesn't make me a slut does it? "No, of course not," I told myself. I took another sip of the exquisite Corton. 

But, I thought . . . I've been married four times. No, none of the three failures were my fault (except maybe the second). The first one had wandered off, ostensibly to "find himself," but never to return, so I divorced him after a couple of years of marriage in absentia. 

The second had kicked me out when he caught me screwing his best friend, calling me a slut. I demurred on the issue of whether my bedmate was actually his best friend, or even a friend at all, and also to his characterization of me as a slut. But this evening, as I looked back over my life, it occurred to me that he might have had a valid point on the slut business. In any case, I made the divorce as easy as possible for him. He wasn't that good in bed anyhow, and he certainly wasn't going to be easy to live with after discovery of my affair with his "best friend." 

The third died (fortunately leaving me a lot of money). I know one should be scarred for life when a spouse dies prematurely, but I had barely been married to him long enough to resolve such basic issues as who slept on which side of the bed, so I didn't feel a soul-crushing loss when he drove his sports car off a cliff after consuming the better part of a fifth of bourbon. I miss him though, I thought. He was such fun—both in and out of bed. 

The second of my marriage failures was the only one I felt even a modicum of responsibility for. Given that I had cheated regularly during all of my marriages (including my current one), the only distinction in the second failed marriage was that I got caught. Luck of the draw, I always told myself. Of course, getting caught cheating during the third marriage and the current one was not an issue, given that it was explicitly understood by both parties to each of the marriages that the other would from time to time have a fling with someone else. 

I'm still married to my fourth husband, Henry, but it is a marriage that hardly conforms to society's customary standards. We met in our early fifties via what I expected to be a classic one-night stand, but it didn't turn out that way. The sex that night was fantastic. Okay, maybe it really wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Maybe we were both just horny and hard up, so we thought it was something extraordinary. I learned years ago that the quality of most sexual encounters is as much a matter of perception as reality. 

In any case it was good enough so that we extended our stay in the New York hotel room he had planned to occupy for just one night for another five days before returning to our respective homes (London for him and San Francisco for me). During those five days we not only learned a great deal about the others' sexual kinks, but discovered that we were really quite well matched (beyond just our sexual personas). When we weren't screwing, and at that age there was quite a bit of the five days when we weren't screwing, we just hit it off. Like me, he had been married three times, and we were greatly entertained by describing the challenges, trials, tribulations, successes, and failures of our prior relationships. He apparently had cheated as much as I had. 

He is also a bit of a foodie, which nicely matches my fondness for fine wines. Neither of us holds any political persuasion with any passion. Although he is probably a bit more conservative than me (it's hard to be conservative if you have lived most of your life in Berkeley and San Francisco), neither of us really gives a damn about politics beyond the basic thought that 99 out of 100 politicians are lying scoundrels and egomaniacs. Really, who in his (or her) right mind would want to be President or Prime Minister? The job doesn't pay well, you have to be surrounded by armed guards all the time to protect you from the odd crazed homicidal maniac, and the press works overtime trying to think of bad things to say about you. Publishing porn is a much nicer occupation. These days you are almost a respectable citizen and much less likely to be indicted than a politician is. And if you know what you are doing, it pays pretty well. 

After our lost week in New York we corresponded, by e-mail and otherwise (Henry still likes to write letters and send them by snail mail and he refuses to read digital books. How quaint.), talked by phone, including some really obscene phone sex, and created excuses to make business trips to mutually convenient destinations (frequently New York) for multi-day re-creations of our first "one night stand." One evening, somewhere around two a.m. as I was sliding from post-coital bliss towards sleep, I heard him ask me to marry him. 

"What!" I responded, suddenly wide-awake. "Did you say what I think you said?" 

"What do you think I said?" he asked. 

"I think you asked me to marry you." 

"I did." 

"Really? You want to try again after three failures, and you want to try it with a woman who has also had three strikeouts?" 

"Absolutely," he said. "I've always enjoyed being married. I enjoyed my relationship with each and every one of my former wives. They were lovely ladies." 

"So what happened?" 

"Well, they just couldn't understand and tolerate my habit of screwing other women. I wasn't prepared to give that habit up, or frankly, even capable of giving it up, so we had to move on with our lives." 

"You, on the other hand, should be perfectly comfortable with that aspect of me. Given your lifelong habit of extramarital sex, I should think you wouldn't have any problem with it at all." 

We talked until nearly 5:00 a.m. and negotiated the terms of what is euphemistically referred to in society today as an "open marriage," although looking back on it, I think it might be better characterized as a financial merger. He continued to live in London and I in San Francisco for good and valid financial and professional reasons in each case. Our principal concessions to our marital status were a jointly purchased loft apartment in New York (a very nice one I might add) and mutual tolerance of resulting significant incremental complexity in our tax returns. Yes, there was a lot of sex involved, but that would have happened with or without the marriage. 

I still have my friends in San Francisco and he still has his in London. We talk almost nightly by phone (although the time zones do complicate the process a bit. "Daily" might be a better way to characterize our schedule, so long as you think of a day as a 24-hour period, plus or minus five or six hours), and we acknowledge that each has his or her own dalliances from time to time, some of which we take delight in sharing with the other. He really can be a wicked man and, like my second husband, he calls me a slut. But he does it on a regular basis, usually while we are fucking or having phone sex, so I have never taken it too seriously. 

Until tonight that is. I had always thought of his characterization of my sexual habits more as a peculiar term of endearment, but tonight, for some reason, totally unrelated to my spouse's statements, it had occurred to me as I contemplated my major event birthday with a bottle of fine wine, that perhaps I was in reality a slut. I refilled my glass and held it before me, noting the dark red of the wine and the "legs" created on the wine glass when swirled, as I talked to myself about the question of my "slutdom": 

"So what makes you think you are a slut," I asked myself. 

"How many men have you slept with?" I responded. 

I laughed and took another sip of the wine. "Since when?" 

"Since forever. Like since you passed puberty." 

"You mean like when I was in high school?" 

"Yeah sure. How many men have you slept with since that first time when you were in high school? Or did you start earlier?" 

"Hey, I'm not that bad. I may be a slut, but I'm not Lolita." 

"Okay, but you haven't answered the question. How many men have you slept with?" 

"Doesn't count if we didn't fall asleep afterwards, right? That's not 'sleeping together'," I asked myself, trying to dodge what I knew to be the obvious intent of my own question. 

"Of course it does. How many men did you screw?" 

"So blow jobs don't count?" I told myself, still prevaricating. 

"Of course they do, and so do hand jobs, for him and for you, and so does cunnilingus. Even mutual masturbation in person, on the phone, or via the Internet counts. Oh, and by the way, so does sex with women. You know, you are beginning to sound like Bill Clinton with all this lawyerly weaseling." 

"Okay. I got it." 

It really is hard to have that kind of debate with yourself, I acknowledged. I took another sip from my wine glass as I thought about it. Damn, this was good wine. 

"You know," I said aloud after thinking for a few moments about the question. "I really have no fucking idea how many people I've had sex with." 

"More than twenty-five?" 

I laughed. "Oh fuck yes! I don't know, but it's got to be way more than twenty-five. I've been screwing for forty-five years, more or less." 

"So you are a slut then!" 

"Yeah, I guess so," I told myself, "but you have to admit, it sure as hell has been fun." I laughed and took another sip of wine. 

"Oh yes, that's for sure," I responded, finally agreeing with myself. 

I noticed that the bottle of wine was at least half empty. "I'm going to have a headache tomorrow," I said as I poured another glass. This really was a great wine. 

Then I got this idea to try to make a list of every man (and woman) I had ever had sex with. Of course I couldn't do it, but I was surprised at how many I could remember and how vivid some of my memories were. 

Just then the phone rang. It was Henry. 

"Hello." 

"Kate? Henry here. Happy birthday. How's my favorite horny little slut. Not too traumatized by turning sixty, I hope." 

No, sixty's not a problem at all, but the funniest thing happened this evening." 

"What's that, lover?" 

"Well, as I said, sixty is fine, but I also decided that I really have been a slut for the last forty-five years." 

To his credit, Henry didn't try to argue with my conclusion. He simply asked, "How did you reach that conclusion?" 

"Well, I was enjoying a really fine bottle of Aloxe-Corton, wishing you were here, and for no good reason I asked myself how many people I have had sex with." 

"Didn't like the answer?" 

"Worse than that. I didn't know the answer." 

"Is that bad? It doesn't seem so to me. I doubt if I could recall all of the people I have screwed." 

I laughed. "I love you," I said. 

"Really. I mean it," he said. "Wait while I refill my coffee cup and you can tell me about them." 

"All of them?" 

"Well, perhaps just the memorable ones." 

He set the phone down and I heard his heels clicking as he walked from his home office to his kitchen and back. Then I heard a long slurp as he sucked in a bit of coffee and he came back on the line. "Now tell me about them, Kate. Who was the first, and was he any good?" 

"Really Henry? You want to hear about all of them now? We'll be up all night even if I just tell you about the best ones." 

Henry laughed. "Yes dear, I suppose we would, although that's not such a problem here, as it's 6:00 a.m., and I just got up. I do really want to hear about them, but you're right. Not all of them in one call. How about just the first one tonight? Or today. These time zones make this the most confusing marriage I've ever had." 

Now it was my turn to laugh as I thought about the first boy I ever had sex with. "Oh God no, Henry. That story is so boring. He was just this dumb friend of my cousin and he barely got it inside me before he went off. Then he got up and left and I had to finish myself off. It was a terrible introduction to sex, but there were others later, many others, that were so much better. I do want to tell you about one of them tonight. My pussy is getting wet just thinking about the man I have in mind." 

"Do tell. Do tell. Far be it from me to keep you from telling me about sex so good it is still making you wet all these years later. Who was the guy? It was a guy wasn't it? 

"Would it upset you if I told you it wasn't a guy?" 

"No, of course not. I was just making a perhaps unwarranted assumption. So was it a girl?" 

No. I'm just jerking you around. There was no girl involved, at least not directly." 

"Really, a guy and an indirect girl. My dick is getting hard thinking about it, although the part about indirect sex with a girl is a little hard to fathom." 

"She was just my motivation. Stop talking and I'll tell you about it." 

"Please. I'll just drink my coffee while you talk." 

I took another drink of the lovely red Burgundy as I thought about how to tell Henry about the "Pool Boy." 

It was the summer after I graduated from high school. My friend Louise and I had jobs working as waitresses in a greasy spoon restaurant in Oakland, but we worked a shift that started at six in the evening, so we basically had all day to ourselves. Most days we spent a good part of it laying around my mother's pool in Orinda working on our tans. We each had bought ourselves about the skimpiest bikini we could find, and if no one was around we would sunbathe nude. Most of the time there was no one around because my mother had a job over the hill in Berkeley (and my father had left us for another woman years ago), so Louise and I spent a lot of time laying naked on the lounges around our pool that summer. 

Now it's not like either of us were virgins. We had each had more than a couple of prior lovers, but as I was to learn from the Pool Boy that summer, the boys we had screwed were a poor excuse for sex. But the Pool Boy—he was a whole different story. 

First the Pool Boy really wasn't a boy. He was very much a full-grown man, maybe thirty-five years old, which seemed ancient to us. He only worked for the pool cleaning company in the summer, and I think he was a P.E. teacher over in Oakland the rest of the year. He was tall, with broad shoulders and not an ounce of fat on him. When he came to clean the pool he usually wore a pair of relatively short shorts, a sleeveless t-shirt with the name of the pool cleaning company on it, and a pair of top siders. 

This clothing did little to conceal the chiseled muscles that covered his body. He was tall, maybe 6'-2", with an olive complexion, further darkened by a serious tan. He had dark curly hair that was trimmed a bit shorter than was the custom in the early 1970s and, usually, about three days' worth of heavy beard. His eyes were striking. An icy blue, they could look right through you. I had talked to him briefly on earlier visits, and when he spoke to me, he looked right into my eyes like I was the only thing in his world. I can't tell you how many times I had masturbated that summer to thoughts of being ravished by the Pool Boy as he lay atop me staring into my very soul with his freaky blue eyes. He was so hot! 




Looking Back



It was a Tuesday, just after lunch, and Louise and I had just returned from a morning's shopping at a nearby mall (Okay, yes, we really were spoiled brats then. Just because I was eighteen didn't mean I had actually grown up into a mature, responsible adult.). We had changed into our bikinis and were stretched out alongside the pool, soaking up rays. Louise had stripped off her top and was lying on her back, while I lay on my stomach with the straps to my top untied. We were both about to fall asleep when we heard the gate open as the Pool Boy entered to do his weekly cleanup of the pool. 

"Excuse me ladies, I need to clean the pool," stating the obvious in an effort to get us to put our clothes back on. There was just a trace of a Spanish accent in his speech. 

Louise pushed her sunglasses back on her head and, seeing that it was the Pool Boy, said, "Go ahead. We're fine." 

I rose up on my elbows facing him, which exposed most of my 38 C breasts, and then put my head back down, assuming that Louise had things handled. 

"Don't you want to put your clothes on?" the Pool Boy asked. I guess he was trying to make sure we understood that he was coming in. 

Louise sat up and said, "Not unless you insist." As she spoke, she pulled the bottoms of her suit down around her knees and then let them drop to her feet so she was now completely naked. She really was a little slut even then. 

The Pool Boy stood on the opposite side of the pool staring at Louise who sat naked and staring back with her legs spread so there was no impediment to a full view of all she had to offer. For the longest time he just stood and stared with this "what the fuck," look on his face. 

Finally he began walking around the pool towards us with his eyes still fixed on Louise, who was now slowly stroking her pussy and smiling at the Pool Boy. As he arrived, I sat up and fastened the top of my suit. It was obvious that he was fixated on Louise and ignoring me, so I just wanted to see what was going to happen. 

He came to a halt directly in front of Louise, who was now using both hands to hold her plump breasts out to the Pool Boy like an offering. Based on the bulge in his shorts, it was obvious to both of us that he was getting her message. It was clear his dick wanted to fuck her as bad as Louise wanted it to fuck her, but as it turned out, unlike most men, the Pool Boy wasn't ready to let his dick do his thinking—at least not on that day. 

He just stood before her staring for the longest time. Then he turned and looked at me and said with a smile, "Is your friend really this much of a slut?" 

I smiled in response and shrugged my shoulders, as if to say, "Pretty much." 

The Pool Boy turned back to Louise and stared a bit longer. 

Louise said, "Well, are you just going to stand there and stare?" 

He stepped forward and swept Louise up in his arms. Louise, grossly misinterpreting his intentions, threw her arms around his neck and tried to kiss him. He leaned back onto one foot, avoiding her, and then spun and threw Louise into the pool, her long blonde hair flying outward as he turned and she sailed towards the pool. She screamed as she flew toward the water, and I was trying, and failing, to suppress a laugh. 

Louise came up wet and swearing like a logger. My laughter just made her madder. Her heavy eye make-up (remember how much we wore in those days?) was streaming down her face. The Pool Boy stood with his hands on his hips looking at her with a smile. He waited until she finally ran out of invective, and then he said, "Listen puta. I have daughters your age, and I work around puta like you at the high school where I teach. You are lovely, but you have a lot to learn about men." 

Louise just stood naked in the waist deep water and stared back looking pissed. She knew enough Spanish to know he had called her a slut. Finally the Pool Boy grabbed a beach towel and tossed it to her. "Your make-up is running," he said. "Don't get it on the towel. You'll ruin it." 

"Fuck you!" Louise said in response. 

The Pool Boy laughed and then turned towards me, "Kate, I think I should leave now. I have time to come back and clean your pool tomorrow morning. It would be good if your little friend was not here then, Sí?" 

I was still laughing, but I managed to get out a brief, "Okay, sure," as he turned and strode around the pool to gather his tools on the other side. 

Louise took off in a major huff right after the Pool Boy left, and I continued to sun myself while I thought about what had just happened. Frankly, the whole thing was a mystery to me. Louise was a total fox. I knew any number of guys who would have done almost anything to get into her pants. So why did the Pool Boy spurn her advances and why in such rude way? Was he gay? Given the size of the erection he was sporting beneath his shorts, I was certain he wasn't gay. So what was it? 

As I lay there alone in the sun puzzling over the events of the last half an hour, my mind eventually gave up on finding an answer and became a good deal more focused on the Pool Boy as a sex object, especially the bulge beneath his shorts that had been so obvious as he confronted Louise. The more I thought about him, the hornier I got. 

I had stripped off my bikini top after Louise and the Pool Boy left, with a plan to get a bit more sun on my chest. As I lay on my back thinking about the Pool Boy, his muscular build, his penetrating blue eyes, and especially the bulge under his shorts, I began to absent-mindedly massage my tits and then to pinch and pull on my nipples. I hadn't really intended to masturbate, and I certainly didn't want to do it to a fantasy about the Pool Boy, who I was pissed at because of the way he had treated Louise, but . . . oh, he was so hot when he had lectured Louise and thrown her in the pool, and my massage of my tits was lighting a fire in my pussy. Well, to be fair to it, the Pool Boy had lit the fire some time ago. I was just stoking it as I played with my tits. 

Finally, after telling myself no several times, I slid the fingers of my right hand beneath the bottoms of my swimsuit. Fuck I was wet. "Okay," I told myself. "I'll think about Jimmy Richards," a tall blonde jock who lived down the street. "Yeah. I'll get off on him." With that, I quickly stripped the bottoms of my swimsuit off so I was lying completely naked on the chaise longue. I spread my legs and slipped a couple of fingers into my wet slippery pussy. 

"Damn it! This isn't working," I said aloud to no one in particular. My mind kept returning to the Pool Boy. I had this image of his tight muscular hips atop his heavily muscled legs as he had turned away from me and thrown Louise in the pool. I was imagining that cute butt naked between my spread legs with both my hands on it pulling him and his cock further into my hungry cunt. Oh fuck, the image was hot. 

I pulled my knees up and spread my legs so that my heels were touching, beginning to use both hands to masturbate. Two fingers and then three were buried deep in my cunt, twisting and turning and stroking the G-spot at the front of my vagina. The other hand was stroking the now slippery wet labia above my cunt and flicking my now fully aroused clit. 

I recognized that there was no turning back from this, so I surrendered to a fantasy in which I watched the Pool Boy disrobe before me, while I lay naked masturbating, just as I was now. First he pulled off his T-shirt, exposing his chiseled chest and abs. Fuck, he was hot! Then he released his shorts and let them drop to his feet. He was wearing a pair of white jockey shorts that did nothing to disguise the large erection beneath them. As he stood before me he stroked his erection through the soft cotton of his shorts. 

"Is this what you want" he asked, pushing his hips toward me. "Do you want to see it?" 

"I want to fuck it," I responded in my fantasy. I think I actually said it aloud as I lay by the pool fantasying about the Pool Boy. When my masturbation fantasies get really hot, like this one, fantasy and reality begin to blur. 

He pushed his jockey shorts down, releasing his cock. It wasn't huge, but it was far from small, and it bobbed a bit as it was released from the bondage of his shorts. Then it just stood straight and tall, leaning away from his stomach at a steep angle. The Pool Boy kicked his shorts and underwear away and stood before me stroking his rigid cock. 

My fantasy was totally out of control now. "Get over here and cum on my tits!" I snarled in a command to him. Oh God, what a fantasy. I was so close to cumming. I imagined him standing next to me with his prick pointed down towards my chest, stroking it with his right hand as hard and fast as he could. Then it spurted stream after stream of white pearly liquid onto my naked tits, as the Pool Boy gave out a groan that could be heard two houses down the block. 

That did it for me. I came with a scream that matched my fantasy of the Pool Boy's groan. It was probably the most intense orgasm I'd ever had up to that point in my young life. 

The Pool Boy came early the next morning to do the work Louise had interrupted the day before. Like any good eighteen-year-old, I was still in bed sleeping off the effects of the prior night's party, so I missed him. 

* * * * * 

That was the beginning of my obsession with the Pool Boy. I'm sure I masturbated a couple of times a day for the week that followed, and the Pool Boy was the subject of my fantasies accompanying every one of those masturbation sessions. I dreamed about sucking his cock and about fucking him in every position and place my young imagination could conjure up. I dreamed about having him eat my pussy. I even imagined a threesome with Louise and the Pool Boy, where he fucked her just because I told him to and then immediately turned and began fucking me with his magically recovered erection. 

By the end of the week I was determined to find a way to seduce him, but given Louise's experience, I could see it was not going to be easy. This was frustrating, because I was used to being able to get laid whenever I wanted by pretty much whomever I wanted. After all, it was 1968, and I was living just over the hill from Berkeley. All I had to do was to go over there and look winsome, and some guy would pick me up and take me back to his apartment for an afternoon fuck (but more on that later). Now the question was how to seduce a guy who, even though obviously turned on by Louise's wanton display of her naked body, still had turned her down. What made this guy tick? I couldn't figure him out. 

He was due to clean the pool again on Tuesday afternoon. I called Louise and made up some excuse about why we couldn't get together that afternoon. She was still really pissed about being rejected and thrown in the pool, so I didn't want her around. It was obvious that lounging around the pool in a skimpy bikini as he worked wasn't going to get the job done, so after spending most of the morning digging through my closet, I decided to try a very different approach. First I tried on a pretty sundress with a string top. Nice, I thought as I looked in the mirror, but I couldn't see how that outfit was going to seduce him. 

Then I had an inspiration. I peeled off the sundress, tossed it on the bed, and dived deep into the back of my closet. Yes! I still had the uniform I had worn to the Catholic girls high school I had attended. Perfect, I thought. He works in a high school, and I bet the girls drive him nuts, but he doesn't have to deal with girls dressed like I did at the Catholic school I attended. He won't be able to turn me down in the outfit I had worn to school only a few weeks ago. 

It took a little more digging in the back of the closet, but well before the Pool Boy was scheduled to arrive, I was dressed in the classic school girl outfit: short grey and blue plaid skirt; white knee socks; Mary Janes; and a white blouse that was old enough so that it wasn't hard to see the lacy bra I wore beneath it. I combed out my long hair, wove it into two braids and then put them up on top of my head. My makeup was light, but I made sure he would notice my blue eyes. And for a final touch, classic white cotton panties. Perfect, I thought. Then I waited for him to arrive. 

Looking back now, I think waiting for him was the hardest part. The longer I waited, the hornier I got and the wilder my imagination got. I actually had to change my panties because I soaked the first pair just thinking about what I wanted to do with the Pool Boy. 

When he did show up, I forced myself to remain inside, watching him work but not showing myself until he had the job done and was beginning to collect his tools. Then I stepped outside carrying a tray with two glasses of iced tea on it and asked him if he would like a drink of something cold. 

He was standing across the pool from me and looked a little surprised. I guess he had never seen me with that much clothing on before. Then he did a double-take as he realized what I was wearing. He thought for a moment, mopped the sweat from his brow, and said, "Yeah, okay. That sounds good." 

I set the tray and drinks on a table and responded, "Come over here and take a break while you have some iced tea." I sat in a chair along side the table taking care to keep my short skirt as far down as I could get it, while the Pool Boy walked around the pool. God, he looked as sexy in the flesh as he had in all the fantasies I had spun out about him during the prior week, except he had more clothes on. 

He sat opposite me, each of us alongside the table. This allowed the Pool Boy to see all of me. Nothing was hidden behind or beneath the patio table. I carefully crossed my legs, which caused my short skirt to slide up my thighs, but I quickly tugged on it to get all the coverage the scant piece of cloth would give me. He seemed a bit tongue-tied as his eyes roamed up and down my body. 

Finally, after a couple of gulps of iced tea, he tore his eyes away from my tits and said, "You look very nice today." 

"Thank you. I hoped you would like it. You didn't seem to like the swimsuits my friend and I were wearing last week." 

He smiled and pulled his eyes back up from my legs. He actually blushed as he said, "Oh, I guess I got a little carried away. Your friend was just being a bit too aggressive for my taste. I teach in a high school, and some of the girls do things like that to us all the time, even though they know we can't respond. It gets very frustrating." 

As he talked his eyes wandered down to my tits again. His eyes seemingly had a mind of their own. They were going to focus on my tits and my legs, no matter how hard he tried to do otherwise. 

I uncrossed my legs and then pulled my feet and my knees together tightly while I tugged on the skirt again. I wondered if he had gotten a glimpse of my white cotton panties in the process. I certainly hoped he had. 

"Well, Louise can do that," I said. 

"What?" he asked jerking his eyes back up to my face. 

I smiled inwardly. The schoolgirl outfit was having its desired effect. His attention span was almost gone. He had completely forgotten we were talking about Louise. 

I deliberately delayed responding as I let my eyes wander down to the bulge in his pants caused by his growing erection. That vision distracted me for a moment, but I pulled my eyes back to his face and said, "Oh, I just meant that Louise can be very aggressive—sexually that is." 

"Do you wear that outfit to school?" he asked after another pause, while his eyes scanned my body. The change in subject indicated that he clearly was more interested in me and my schoolgirl outfit than he was in the naked Louise. 

"Not any more. I graduated from St. Andrews earlier this year. I'll be going to Cal this fall." As I spoke, I crossed my legs again. I could see that his eyes were focused on my legs as I moved, probably hoping to get another peek at my white cotton panties. This time I made no effort to tug my skirt down, letting it slide well up my thighs. The Pool Boy's eyes remained glued to my legs. As I watched, he licked his lips. 

Finally after a long silence he looked back at my eyes. "That's good." 

"What's good?" I asked with all the innocence I could muster. This was really becoming fun. His eyes had wandered down to my tits again. 

He jerked his eyes back up and said, "Oh, I meant it's good that you graduated from high school." 

"Yup," I agreed. "I'm not jail bait any more," 

More blushing by the Pool Boy. "Oh. No, no. I just meant that everyone should finish high school." 

"Yes, that's true . . . too," I said with unnecessary emphasis on the word "too." 

I leaned back and pulled my sunglasses down off the top of my head in front of my eyes. "This sun feels so good." I uncrossed my legs and let them fall open just a bit as I pulled my skirt up a bit more—not enough to show him my panties, but enough to look like I was just working on my tan, maybe. 

There was a long silence. I guess he forgot that I could see him through my sunglasses because he was blatantly staring at my legs stretched out from my chair. He licked his lips again. Finally he said, "You have nice legs." 

"Thank you," I said. "You saw more of them last week." As I spoke I sat upright again and removed my glasses setting them on the table. 

"That's not the same," he said. "Women can be much sexier with more clothes on than less. That's the lesson your friend Louise needs to learn." 

I waited a moment. He was blatantly staring at my tits now. The whole conversation had been so fucking erotic that my nipples had grown rock hard and were making an obvious pair of little tents through my bra and blouse. Every time I moved my legs I could feel the juices from my pussy lubricating its lips. God I was horny. 

"Oh. So you think I'm sexy?" 

"Very," he said. He licked his lips again. 

"Sexier than Louise?" I asked. As I spoke I released two buttons at the top of my blouse, exposing a minor amount of cleavage. 

"Much." 

"So if I took my clothes off you wouldn't throw me in the pool?" I asked. 

"No, but it would be a shame for you to just undress and become naked like your silly little friend. You are very sexy the way you are." 

"I've never understood how a woman can be sexier with her clothes on than without them," I said. As I spoke, I pulled my knees up into my chest and hooked the low heels of my Mary Janes on the edge of the chair. I could feel the warm air on the backs of my thighs all the way up to my panties, so I knew he was getting a good view. 

There was a long silence and it was obvious that his eyes were fixed on my panty-clad pussy. Finally he spoke very softly, "Oh, but it's true. Some women just take your breath away with the right outfit." 

"You mean like this one?" 

Another long silence followed finally by a very soft, "Yes." 

"So is this maybe even better?" I asked as I pulled the skirt up above my hips and spread my legs so he had an unimpeded view of my white cotton panties, stretched tight across my mound. 




Looking Back



"Fuck! . . . Yes," he said softly as he stared with obvious lust at my panty-clad sex organ. 

I said nothing and just let him stare while I released the rest of the buttons on my blouse. My bra had a front clasp, which I also released. I pushed the cups aside and began to fondle my tits while the Pool Boy continued to stare at my panty-clad crotch. So fucking sexy. Better than my wildest fantasy. 

"Let me see your cock," I said softly, but with a commanding tone. My seduction wasn't complete, but I was confident it was well on its way. 

"Okay." 

He released his belt and zipper on his shorts and then pushed them down over his legs and his Topsiders. To my surprise, he had no underwear on. His fully-erect cock was beautiful, standing tall and looking angry and ready to fuck. It was even larger than it had been in my fantasies. 

"Very nice," I said after several long moments of silent appraisal. His cock bobbed in response. 

"You have nice tits," he said. 

"These?" I said as I put my hands beneath them and held them out toward him. "Do you want to suck on them?" 

"Do you want to fuck?" I continued without waiting for an answer to the question about my tits. 

"Yes, but not yet. First I want to eat you. I love to bring a woman to climax with my tongue. Then we can fuck." 

"Let's go to the pool house," I said. "There is a nice big soft couch in there." Without waiting for an answer, I stood, dropping my blouse and bra on the table, and walked to the pool house, swinging my hips as I went. I stopped at the door and looked back. He was still sitting in the chair watching me and slowly stroking his cock. 

"Are you coming?" I reached beneath my skirt and pulled my cotton panties down to my knees letting them fall to my feet and kicking them away. Now I was naked except for the plaid skirt, my knee socks, and the Mary Janes. "I'd take the rest of this off, but I'm afraid you'll throw me in the pool." 

"No, no!" he said softly but with urgency as he jumped to his feet. "Don't take anything more off. I like it just the way you are." As he began walking towards me, wearing only a T-shirt and his Topsiders, his rigid cock was bobbing obscenely. 

"Okay," I said, smiling coyly. I knew he would want me to keep my remaining clothes on. He wanted to have sex with me in my schoolgirl clothes. He'd been saying no to so many cute young things for so many years, and now he had found one who wasn't truly forbidden. She just looked like she was forbidden, which made it even better. I just wanted to hear him say it. As I walked away through the door of the pool house, I reached back and pulled up the hem of my skirt so that he had a good view of my ass. I knew he was mine now! 

There was a long couch on one side of the room lit by horizontal stripes of light coming through partially closed blinds on a window behind it. When the Pool Boy walked into the room, I was sitting slouched on the couch with my Mary Janes and my knee socks still on, my plaid school girl skirt pulled up above my hips, my legs spread obscenely, and my mostly-naked body illuminated in stripes by the light coming through the blinds. I had released the braids in my hair and quickly combed them out with my fingers so my long dark hair was hanging down on both sides of my face to the tops of my breasts. The image stopped him cold as he walked through the door. 

"Oh fuck!" he said. He stood in the doorway staring at me, wearing nothing but a T-shirt. His cock jumped involuntarily. 

I reached down with one hand and began to stroke the lips of my pussy while my tongue snaked obscenely out and stroked my lips. The Pool Boy watched me masturbate as he began to stroke his cock, still standing half naked in the door. I slid two fingers into my dripping cunt while I watched him jack his cock. 

"Well," I said. "Are you going to just stand there masturbating, or are you going to fuck me?" I was now pulling on one of my nipples while I continued to slide my fingers in and out of my cunt. Then I pulled the fingers in my pussy up to my mouth and sucked on them as lewdly as I could. 

The Pool Boy was silent, perhaps dumbstruck or gobsmacked would be a better term. 

"Well," I said. "You said you were going to eat me. Get over here and lick my pussy!" 

The Pool Boy peeled off his T-shirt as he finished the last few steps across the room. When he reached me he dropped to his knees between my legs. Then he carefully spread my pussy lips apart with his thumbs and sat appraising my cunt. "It's beautiful," he said. Actually, I have always thought I have a pretty much average looking pussy, but it was beautiful to him. 

With that he dived in. Using one hand to keep my lips spread, he slid two fingers of the other hand into my cunt and then began to slowly lap at my open and inviting pussy lips. Since that time I've had my pussy eaten by a lot of men and more than a few women. He had to be one of the best ever. He licked me from the sensitive spot below my cunt all the way up to my clit. He sucked on my pussy lips and my clit and even nibbled softly on them with his teeth. He repeatedly shoved his long tongue into my cunt, and when he wasn't fucking me with his tongue because it was busy elsewhere, his fingers replaced it. 

But the most incredible part of the experience was his attention to the effect he was having on me. He repeatedly brought me right to the edge of an orgasm and then backed off. He was seriously paying attention to what he was doing. This went on for fifteen minutes, until he had me screaming and crying for a climax. And then he let me have it. He shoved two fingers hard into my cunt repeatedly so it felt like I was being fucked with a jackhammer while he lashed my clit with his tongue. Instead of backing off, he just let me sail over the edge. It felt like my climax went on forever. Fuck! It was fantastic! I had no idea sex could be like that. 

He let me come down a bit as I lay gasping on the couch with my knee sock clad legs draped over his shoulders. Then he raised up off his knees with my legs still draped over his shoulders and pushed his cock into my pussy. It wasn't the longest cock I have ever fucked, nor was it the thickest, but it was plenty long enough and thick enough to make me groan when he shoved it in. After what he had just done to me with his tongue, I was borderline incoherent. "Oh, oh, Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit, that's good." 

"Is that what you wanted little schoolgirl," he demanded. "Did you want this big dick in your cunt? Did you? Answer me damn it! Isn't that why you put on your schoolgirl outfit? So you could seduce me and get my big cock in your hot little pussy?" All the while he was pounding me hard with his cock. I could feel another orgasm building already. 

I pushed my hair out of my face and gritted my teeth as I responded to him, "Fuck! Oh fuck, yes. That's exactly why I got this outfit out of the back of my closet. You were so fucking hot when you threw Louise in the pool last week that I just had to have you, and I knew you taught high school, so I put it on and did my best to get you to do this. And you're enjoying it aren't you? Oh fuck!" I screamed as he used his legs to ram his big cock into me extra hard. Fuck, I had never had a cock stretch me this far or go this deep into me. 

The Pool Boy was breathing hard now, trying to control his impending climax, so I continued with my taunting of him, "You're enjoying it aren't you. You can't fuck all the cute little dollies where you work, can you, but you can fuck me because I'm not one of your students and I'm not jailbait any more, am I? But you can pretend because I'm wearing the outfit can't you?" 

He could only pant in response. 

"Wait," I said, as I pushed back on his chest. "I want you to fuck me doggy style. I've never tried that." 

His cock popped out of my cunt glistening with my juices and I rolled away from him and onto the floor. I dropped to my knees with my head on my folded arms with my ass obscenely up in the air. "Come on fuck me," I said with a tone of voice that was approaching a snarl. The Pool Boy was on his knees behind me just looking at me. My plaid skirt was pulled up onto my back and I had my knees spread so he had a view of my pussy and my little rosebud of an asshole. He just kneeled there stroking my calves. One of my knee socks had slid down to my ankle. 

"Come on. Fuck me!" I snarled. He grabbed my ass with both hands and then slid his cock in just a little way. Then he used one hand to slap my ass hard three times. It was a shock and it really hurt . . . in a good sort of way. No one had ever spanked me before. 

"Stop being so mouthy you little slut," he said. "If you want me to fuck you, you have to say please." 

I tried to push my hips back against him to get more of his cock into me, but he pulled it out completely and slapped the other side of my ass twice. "Say please," he repeated in a soft but threatening voice. 

I was crying now, but I managed to squeak out a "please," between sobs. 

"Please what?" he said. He had his cock in his hand and was using it to stroke the outside of my pussy, occasionally brushing my clit. 

"Please, please," I responded still crying. 

He slapped me again, but not so hard as he had before. "Tell me what you want, Kate." 

I chocked back a sob and said, "I want you to fuck me. I want that big hard cock of yours in my pussy. . . please. Please. Oh please fuck me." 

"Okay," he said as he grabbed both sides of my ass and began to slide his cock back into me. He put it in slowly, almost gently, but it went in so far and it felt so big. I couldn't believe it. When he had it all the way in he just held it there . . . so big, so hard, and it felt so fucking good. 

"Oh, oh. Thank you," I said. "That's so fucking good!" 

We stayed that way for what seemed like a long time and finally I began to wiggle my hips. Not a lot. Just a bit, but enough to cause some friction. That brought him back to life and he began to fuck me. First it was with long slow strokes that went almost all of the way out of my cunt and then all the way back in. Gradually he accelerated the pace and the force until he was ramming me as hard and fast as he could and I was matching his pace by slamming my hips into him as he started each stroke into my cunt. As I moved I could feel my tits swing beneath my chest. Neither of us was saying anything now, but it was a glorious fuck. 

It wasn't long until I could feel another orgasm building. That got me talking again. "Oh, oh, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm going to cum. Oh, oh, shit yes! I'm going to cum! Oh Fuuuuuck!" and then I screamed as my second orgasm ripped through me. The muscles in my cunt clamped down on his cock and that set him off. I felt his prick stiffen, and he pushed all the way up against the end of my cunt. Then I felt stream after stream of his hot cum flooding my cunt. He groaned loudly, I think, but I couldn't really tell because I was so lost in my own orgasm I wasn't paying much attention. I think I actually came a third time when I felt his prick flood me with his cum, but maybe it was just a continuation of the prior orgasm. Who knows . . . who cares? 

We tipped sideways to the floor, both panting and still coupled. We lay that way until I felt his shriveling cock slide out of my pussy. 

"I have to go," he whispered. "Two more pools to clean today." 

"Are there schoolgirls to fuck at those pools?" I asked. 

"Fuck, I hope not. You've worn me out." 

He stood and dressed quickly, and I watched from where I was lying half naked on the floor as he walked out the door. I heard him gather his tools, and then I heard his truck drive away. By this time I was beginning to recover. I stood up and peeled off the rest of my clothes. Then I walked naked out to our freshly-cleaned pool and dove in with my freshly and thoroughly fucked body. I swam a few laps and then got out and lay naked in the sun gloating about how much more successful I had been than Louise in seducing the Pool Boy. 

I fucked the Pool Boy every Tuesday for the rest of the summer. It was glorious. That's the only word that can describe the sex we had that summer—fucking glorious. By the next summer we had a different pool cleaning service, and I had other men in my life, but I will always remember the Pool Boy. He was my first seduction, and he was worth every minute of the effort I put into it. 

Wow! That's quite a story," said Henry. "So that's when you began to learn the art of seduction." 

"Absolutely. There were lots of others that I seduced and more than a few that I failed to seduce later, but the Pool Boy was the first, and it was a magical learning experience." 

"Well, I've got to shower, have breakfast, and go to work, but I'll call you tomorrow for your next story." 

"Good night, lover." 

"Good morning."



Looking Back



At last I lifted the little hood of flesh covering that nub of pleasure, her clitoris. As my tongue began to circle it she made a tremendous outcry; “Don’t…don’t make me…no don’t I’m going to…Arggh… ah…aha…aha…oh my God…” 

I struggled to stay with her as she writhed in the grip of her orgasm. I had to put my arms round her thighs as she, despite all her previous protests, now clung to my head, trying to hold me to her. It was like a battle as she poured out her lubricant, soaking my face, and I had to fight back my own desire to ejaculate.

As she calmed down I heard her sobbing, and no longer clasping my head to her, she was gently stroking my hair and gasping out, “Oh my dear…my dear…”

When I sensed that she had completed the cycle of her orgasm, I moved away and began to enjoy her breasts, and gradually recovering she said, “No darling, let me do something for you now.”

She persuaded me onto my back and alternated between licking her own juices on my face and deep kissing me. Her hand searched for and found my penis and began to thrust back its foreskin with strong sharp strokes.

She kissed her way down to my groin and then closing her lips over the crown of my penis she took it into her mouth, and still thrusting back my foreskin with almost brutal strokes, she began to suck.

Nothing could stop me then; no will power could have been strong enough to deny what my body demanded. I gave out a mighty yell and shot my semen into her mouth. I pumped and pumped until despite her attempts to swallow, the sperm began to flow from the sides of her mouth.

When I finished and she had released my penis from her mouth, she was gasping like someone just saved from drowning. I gave her time to catch her breath and then kissed her, deep and avidly. We tasted each other’s juices and found them good.

“Darling,” she said, “Do you always shoot so much?”

“With you, yes.”

“She made no comment.”

Ridiculously, yes, I knew I was in love with my own mother. I wanted her as I had never wanted any woman before. I was totally enamoured of her. She was the one I wanted to return to again and again. I had found “The One,” but had she found the one in me? I sought reassurance.

“I want you, mother.” 

“I know, my love.”

“I mean, I want to be…to be…” 

I couldn’t express what I felt, what I longed for, but as so often in my life mother understood.

“It’s all right darling, I’m here for you, always.”

“Do you mean…it wasn’t just a birthday gift…but …”

“But for life?”

“Yes.”

“Until death, my love.”

Every time I look at our first child, the fruit of our love, I know that looking back, I had found ‘The Woman’; or had she found me?



Looking Back



Looking Back (a true story)

Looking back, the signs were all there, I just didn't put them all together until that evening in the hotel. 

There was the time she returned from grocery shopping, all excited, and anxious to tell me the story. It seems that she was bending over, picking out vegetables, when a man rounded the corner, stopped and exclaimed: WOW! She turned, smiled, and continued on with her shopping. She had taken his reaction as a compliment and wanted to tell me. She still had the same outfit on that she was wearing when she told me the story. It was a matching set of short-shorts that showed off her great legs and sleeveless blouse. As she turned in the kitchen I saw she was not wearing a bra and I knew exactly what the "WOW" was all about.

There was the time that we were making love in the family room down stairs. She was dancing around the room, removing a piece of clothing here, and a piece of clothing there until she was completely naked. She danced up to the double sliding doors and started to pull the curtains around her, hiding her naked body from me, but showing that beautiful naked body to the outside world. While she moved, I caught some movement outside and saw that two men were cutting the grass next door. I was pretty sure they got an eye full, though they continued to cut the grass. If I were them I would have stopped and stared.

Early in our marriage she was shy about posing for nude pictures. Over the years that changed and I have collected quite a number of excellent naked shots of her. As the years went on she got more daring. She posed naked at the beach on a roof-deck. There were the pictures at the park where she quickly got out of all of her clothes, posed for 50 pictures, laid down on the blanket and motioned for me to join her. We made love in the woods at the end of the photo shoot. As we finished we heard a tractor motor start up. We looked up and saw a man in a tractor on a ridge above us. He had gotten to watch us make love.

Then there was our weekly love making in the bedroom. Over the years it began to change. She started leaving the window open. She then started to dance naked in front of the open window. She kept changing where we made love in the room, moving closer and closer to the window. Until one day, she got up, stood in front of the window completely naked and motioned for me to enter her from behind. The noise from outside, along with the summer breeze made the session very exciting along with the possibility that our neighbors could see us if they where watching. We did not see anyone. It was the excitement of the possibility that excited us both.

I was beginning to wonder if I had married an exhibitionist. I wanted to ask her if she enjoyed being an exhibitionist but was afraid to bring the topic up. I did ask her once if she was interested in showing off a little and she said "No way". But after the session at the window I was starting to wonder again.

Then the company threw a party in the city and we decided to stay overnight at the hotel. We checked into the room late afternoon. It did not take long to finish unpacking and begin getting romantic. She excused herself, took a few items into the bathroom, and said she would be out shortly. The room was on the 6th floor and overlooked a number of buildings directly across from our room. I do not remember who opened the curtains, but they were completely pulled back, with a wonderful full few of the city from our bed. 

She came out of the bathroom in her new 4" heels and a transparent G-string, nothing else. She stood in the small hallway of the room, facing the mirrored closet, turned on the hall light and started to dance. I was pretty sure that if anyone was looking into the room, she was on full display for me and them. I was excited about the possibility and looked out, but saw no one looking back. She danced her way over to the bed, turned around facing the window and laid down. That was my cue to come over and start to play. I did not need to be asked again. 

She laid down on the bed with her legs hanging over the edge, and spread her legs. She was on full view of anyone looking into the room. I moved over placing one hand on her breast and the other between her legs. She moaned and I started to move my hand with the rhythm of the movement of her hips. She started moving faster and I undid one side of the G-string and pulled the material away from her pussy. 

She let out another moan as if she knew she was on full display and enjoyed it. Her hips moved faster. I replaced my hand between her legs and moved two fingers slightly into her moist cunt. She clamped down on by hand, starting to move with more determination. I slid my other hand slowly down from her breast, lightly over her ribs, over her tummy, and finally stopped at the top side of her bush. I began to play with her pubic hair. She loved both hands down by her pussy and it did not take long for her to cum. She arched her back up off the bed, opened her mouth, threw her head back and let out a very loud sound of pleasure. Her organism lasted for a good 40 seconds. 

She kept her eyes shut while her organism continued, taking all the feelings in, while shaking. Then she opened her eyes with a smile and a "thank you". I have always loved her orgasms and this was another that I enjoyed watching.

She lay there for a little while longer and then got up. She knew I loved watching her move around the room naked, so she moved into the hallway again and started to dance. As she danced she slowly moved towards the center of the room and my eyes followed her with no difficulty. The heels were all that remained. She danced to the center of the room and then asked me a question that I continue to play back in my mind that I never expected: "Do you want me to move over to the window?" I did not answer right away, it felt like an hour before I said anything, my mind raced with thoughts that said YES and NO, and then I heard myself say YES.

She did not say a word, but moved quickly over to the window, turned facing me, with her back to the outside. Anyone watching from outside would be looking clearly at a back of a naked lady. She danced some more, turned facing the window, and moved up closer to the window, still dancing. She was on display for all to see. She was playing with her breasts, looking down at the street, when I moved up behind her. I started to play with her breasts, holding her from behind, when I looked out on the street and saw what she was looking at. 

There was a man at the bus stop looking up. He clearly could see us and could see her naked. She did not run, but moved her ass up against my erect penis. It did not take me long to enter her from behind. Using her arms she braced herself up against the window and we moved together, looking down with the man looking up. It did not take me long to cum. I was too excited. I came quickly, remained standing for a long time, and then slid out of her, moving back into the room. She stayed a little longer at the window and then moved away. We ran to the bathroom laughing. Cleaned up and jumped into bed to hold each other naked. 

We did not talk about it until the next day over breakfast. We shared our thoughts about the session. We both enjoyed the experience and looked forward to doing it again. Before we left the hotel that day, we made love again, at the window.

I did not need to tell her. She knew. I had married an exhibitionist years ago and only now learned that wonderful secret.



Looking Back



Diligently she went about packing the picnic basket, having rummaged through the house to gather all the things she knew He liked, adding a few different items for variety and to her liking. Tipping her head and looking over the assortment and wondering how she will pack it all in the basket. Biting her lip and setting her mind to the task she starts with the larger items, packing them at the bottom snuggly before adding the others, a bottle of wine, a few glasses, plates and napkins. Having made sure that the utensils were packed already. Stopping she reviewed mentally all she had gathered and knew something was missing but couldn't quite place her finger on it.

Turning she leaned back against the counter and looked around, sooner or later it would jump out at her, she wasn't one to forget the small details when trying to please Him. Standing there eyes closed, her mind spinning before it became very clear that she forgot to write Him a note letting Him know of the picnic to begin with. Chuckling softly to herself and knowing that would have been a mistake she quickly takes up a pen and searches for a piece of paper before finding a scrap of one. In bold letters it begins:

Master:

I am at our spot by the lake, the old oak tree. I have lunch and drinks. Yours, Sandra

Leaving the note in plain view and on the fridge, one of the first places He always stops to grab something, she is pretty confident He will find it. If not, her cell phone would be ringing that was for sure. Smiling she closed up the basket and grabbed the blanket besides it. Plopping one of those big straw floppy hats on her head and slipping on her sandals she took the truck keys and left, locking up before putting everything in the truck. 

Taking off the hat and letting it sail to the passenger side of the truck she felt glorious, the sun was shinning, the weather was perfect for once and this was just the break He needed. She had felt for awhile now that the stress was eating at Him badly and all she wanted was to have Him relax, feel at peace for a short time.

The drive took about an hour, not that long but it seemed to be out in the middle of no where. The lake looked as calm as the heavens, the water sparkled like diamonds floating atop its surface as she stepped from the truck and gathered all the necessities. Slamming the truck door closed she turned, taking the old worn path and thinking of all the other times they both had been here. How He taught her to swim and love the water, how they had their first real picnic here, the fourth of July and watching the fireworks over the lake, alone and at peace and all the times they had been together, just the two of them, holding each other—just being.

Following the path she smiled, the basket getting a bit heavy as the trail winded until coming to the perfect spot He took her to so long ago. Setting the basket down with a soft thump on the ground she took the blanket from under her arm and spread it out. The slight breeze wasn't even enough to upset the blanket, just enough to flow over the skin like teasing fingers in a caress. If one were to look down, the figure of a woman, quite old in age stood looking over the lake, silhouetted as she once was in youth. 

Looking down at her watch she gathered that by now He would have gotten the note and started for the lake about a ½ hour ago which gave her just enough time to set things up. Kneeling down, her skirt billowing out around her airily she opened the basket and began setting out plates and glasses, the bottle of wine. Pausing as she looked up, a shadow briefly crossing her path. A light furrow of her brow as she looked around to find nothing or no one that would have done such. Casting any thoughts aside but being ready for when He came, she continued to set things out, making sure that it looked presentable, tempting and appealing to His eye above her own. Looking at her watch again, she was surprised that so much time had gone by already, at least the sun was still high in the sky, the weather wondrous as she sat down on the corner of the blanket.

Surveying each item and turning the bottle of wine so the label would be facing Him she then quit diddling with everything, knowing it would either please Him or not, nothing more she could do. Drawing her knees to her chest, the sheerness of her dress draped along her legs, softly waving with the breeze as her arms curled around her legs. Smokey eyes looking out over the lake with tender memories as they flashed in her head.

As the sun beat down, she began to get hot and took off the hat, letting the sun beat directly on her blonde head, the slight breeze taking the tiny wisps of hair and teasing them over her cheeks and lips as her mind wandered backward in time, going back years upon years to the beginning. Her eyes seemed to cloud over as memory upon memory so etched into her mind floated, dancing as if playing itself out before her. All the lessons in the water of her shrieking and begging to leave and His patience as He held her and talked her through her fears, how each lesson ended up with her having gained knowledge and yet sore from the rough and yet loving taking of her as she teased and tormented Him purposefully.

Closing her eyes, a lone tear slipped down her cheek unheeded as she caught her breath. The feelings and memories so alive within, right at the surface as she knew they would be. Reaching blindly over she grasped the bottle of wine and opened it, pouring out a glass and then looking down at her watch, knowing that He was late but would show up. A smile curled her lips as she remembers the first time she left a note and took off, the words that flew from His mouth in anger until He calmed down to see that she had set up a picnic on her own. She had understood His anger, she left without telling Him and He couldn't get her on the phone. She could still remember how He stood before her, His voice seeming to boom across the lake and yet all she could think of was how magnificent He was standing there before her and how lucky she was to be His.

Taking a sip of the wine, a few more tears stream down her face, absently wiping the back of her hand against them to smooth them away. Taking a deep breath as her gaze slipped over the sky and down to the water to see that the wind was picking up a bit, the sun was shifting lower. Now the memories came tumbling in, rushing, a bit of this one, a bit of that one, running together as if spliced into a film. Fingers tightening around the wine glass as she sipped one more time then just holding it as her knees drew up tighter to her chest. Turning her face into the wind to feel it blowing across her face and drying the tears as quick as they fell.

Tossing back the long locks that were once blonde she looks over her shoulder, breath catching as if she was in her twenties again, heart hammering in her chest to see Him walking down the path carrying a single flower, an iris. Ironically as she holds the flower, a fleeting thought of the song called "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls.

It was as if it were years ago. The spring in His step, that smile that she loved so much as He tossed the flower in her lap before smothering her in a tight hug and kiss. Now tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Turning her head and ducking it she flings the glass of wine, it hitting the nearest tree and shattering, just as her life had.

Ironically how many times had she joked about 13 years, poisoning Him or offing Him so she could find a younger Man only to have Him leave her. She had never wanted that, only to be with Him, it was a running joke, something that had gone on from the get go, something that always seemed to ground them with a bit of humor when things were tense or stressed around them. Looking out over the lake, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she remembered once Him mentioning that she would never throw a rose on His grave but a daisy, just to be different because they stank to high heaven and smiled fleetingly thinking of the daisy she did toss just for that simple fact. But also the two roses she did leave, entwined to symbolize her heart and His, always together, for they were.

Looking around, a bit disorientated, cold now as the wind had picked up, the sun was long gone, the night air was thick with the scent of the fall season underway. She looked over the picnic and a sense of loneliness over came her so sharply that it was worse then any inflicted pain purposeful or not that had ever struck her, for He had been her life, always would be.

Taking a deep breath she rose, stripping out of the dress she wore that still fit all these years, one she had kept and saved without His knowledge, a reminder always that she was His. Folding it lightly and placing it in the basket she then strode down to the lake and started walking right in. Eyes closed as the cold hit her hard, shivers tracing along her form as she kept on walking, envisioning His arms open, encouraging her to meet Him. Walking forward, her own arms outstretching to touch Him, to feel Him. The water slowly lapping at her flesh, rising quickly until finally it was over her head and she just kept walking, right into His arms.



Looking Back



Looking back, it was probably the craziest thing I've ever done. But at the time it didn't seem crazy at all. At the time it was like I just couldn't help myself. I'm talking about the incredible week I spent with my little sister, Stacy. 

I had never been attracted to her when I was a kid; I mean she was my sister for God's sake. Growing up, we had a very typical relationship. We fought all the time, annoyed each other, and most of the time I thought she was a snot-nosed little twerp. But that was before the summer when she came back from her first year away at college. After that, a lot of things changed. 

I remember that she had really started to come into her own during her senior year in high school. She started to dress like a woman instead of a tomboy, and she was wearing makeup, too. Not to mention that she had really grown into her body. I remember noticing how she looked at her graduation party in the bathing suit she was wearing. She had become a very shapely young woman. She had long, tanned legs, a tiny waist, and a tight behind. I have to admit that I caught myself staring at her more than once that day. I even had a few of my friends mention how large her tits had gotten. They were quite large, and she apparently didn't mind showing them off, either. Her bikini wasn't exactly something I'd call conservative. I just told my friends they'd better leave her alone. They chided me, saying, "looks like he's saving her all for himself, boys! It's okay, he's just trying to keep it in the family!" 

They were just kidding, but if they only knew.... 

It was a year later that she was returning from her freshman year at the University of Miami. It was my job to pick her up from the airport, since our parents were out of town for a week. I waited impatiently at the coffee shop right outside the terminal gate until I heard a voice over the intercom say her flight was deboarding. When I saw her coming down the terminal I couldn't believe my eyes. I guess my surprise was obvious, because she gave me a sly smile in return. It's amazing what a year in Miami can do to a girl. She looked taller, leaner, and, well...sexier. 

She had blossomed even from the girl I remembered at the graduation party. Her legs were still long and tan, but they were toned now, too. They looked great in the Daisy Dukes she was wearing. Her sandy hair was lighter from the sun and her face was beautiful. She had bright sky blue eyes, thick, pouty lips, and a gorgeous smile. Her little waist was hugged tightly by the pink tank top she was wearing, which was very low-cut, accenting her large, braless breasts. She apparently still had no problem showing them off. They must've been double-D's. 

She walked straight up to me, threw her arms around me, and kissed my cheek hard. I could feel her tits pushing against my chest as she did, and it caused my dick to stir a little in my shorts. She slid a leg in between mine, and it pressed into my crotch. I hoped she hadn't felt anything. 

"Hey big brother! How the hell are ya?" She smiled a big goofy smile at me and kissed my cheek again.

"I'm great, kiddo, how are you doing?"

"Oh my God, I'm just glad to be home," she sighed.

I smiled at her. "Good. Let's go get your bags and get out of here."

"Lead the way, sir." She hooked her arm in mine. "I'm all yours."

I was caught between happiness and discomfort. I was happy to see her, but I couldn't believe I was looking at my own baby sister the way I was. It was sick, right? But like I said, it was like I couldn't help myself. 

We grabbed her luggage at the baggage claim and walked it out to the car. Her pert ass was teasing me as she walked in front of me, but I did my best to hide it. Her shorts were cut so high that the bottoms of her ass cheeks were peeking a little. I guess that's probably an everyday thing in Miami. When she got to the car she dropped her suitcase and knelt down to dig through it. I stood over her opening the trunk and I couldn't help but look down at her large breasts, which were barely contained by her tank top. My dick stirred again. I was disgusted with myself.

"Jesus, Stacy, don't you think you ought to have some...support?" 

She gave me a confused smile, still rooting through her bag. "What are you talking about?" 

I didn't say anything; I just motioned to her chest. Her boobs were practically fully exposed, popping out in front of God and everyone. She yanked her hand out of her bag, grasping a white lace bra. 

"Yes, daddy," she waved the bra in my face. "Anything else I should or shouldn't be wearing?" She grinned, giggling at my obvious embarrassment. "These things are just way too uncomfortable to fly in. Besides, don't act like you didn't like what you saw." 

"What?" I said, shocked, and trying not to make it too obvious that I actually did like what I saw. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on, Jimmy," she tossed the suitcase into the trunk and closed it. "You may be my big brother, but you're still a guy, and tits do the same thing to you as every other guy in the world." She smiled that sly smile at me again. "Especially big ol' knockers like these!" She laughed and grasped her big tits and started jiggling them at me. I did my best to try and hide my stirring cock and act disgusted. I couldn't believe she was acting like this.

"Knock it off, sis!" I stammered, my eyes locked on her luscious titties.

"Besides," she whispered, pulling me close enough to touch my ear with her sultry lips. "You don't really hide it too well, if you know what I mean." She reached down and put her hand on my cock through my shorts, lightly massaging it with her fingertips. My face must have turned bright red. She had felt my dick at the terminal gate. I didn't know what to say.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, stop, Jimmy. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I have nice tits. If I was in your shoes I'd probably get a hard-on looking at them too!" She laughed out loud. 

"Fuck, Stacy, just get in the car and let's go."

"Yes, sir!" She laughed and jumped in the passenger seat. I stood at the rear of the car for a few seconds trying to gather my bearing. Come on, man, she's your sister for Christsake! Get a hold of yourself.

I opened the door and slid into the driver's seat just in time to see her slipping the straps of her tank top over the white lace. She had deftly managed to slip the bra on before I could get into the car, somewhat to my dismay. 

"That better?" She cooed, batting her eyelashes. 

I shook my head with the slightest smile I could manage and drove us home. 

When we got home Stacy said the first thing she had to do was get out of the clothes she was wearing. Then she joked and apologized for mentioning such things around me. "Wouldn't want your dick to start getting hard over your little sis again, would we?" She winked and ran upstairs to her room. I couldn't believe how forward she was. It was like she had no shame. As embarrassed as I was about the whole thing, it didn't seem to bother her at all. She seemed to be relishing the fact that her older brother was lusting after her. Actually, it seemed to encourage her. It was like the more I got turned on, the harder she worked to keep me hot and bothered. 

While Stacy was upstairs changing, I decided I needed a dip in the pool. I hoped the cool water would help ease my throbbing cock down. I went upstairs to my room, just down the hall from Stacy's. I pulled my clothes off and stood in my room naked. I couldn't help but imagine my little sister doing the same thing right down the hall. I pictured her unhooking her bra and freeing her enormous breasts, then slithering out of her panties. I imagined her lying down on her bed and spreading her legs wide, sliding her middle finger up and down her wet slit. I let my hand slide down my rock hard cock, gripping the base, and squeezing a small stream of cum out the tip. It felt dirty and wrong to think of my sister like this, but I think that's why it turned me on so much. I began stroking myself faster. I imagined it was Stacy's hand stroking me, then her mouth and tongue, then-

"Hey Jimmy, you in there?" Stacy was knocking at the door. "I'm going down to the pool and I want to show you my new swimsuit." 

Shit, I thought. Now she's going to the pool, too. I'm never going to get rid of this hard-on.

"Uh...yeah...hold on a minute. I'll be right out."

With that the door flew open and in walked my sister wearing the skimpiest bikini I'd ever seen. It literally left nothing to the imagination. Every inch of every curve of her luscious body was completely on display, right down to the hard nipples poking through her top. I could even see that her pubic hair was shaved into a racing stripe right above her clit. It was like the suit was painted on her nude body. It was incredible. And there I stood in all my naked glory, my hard dick in my hand, and my eyes wide with shock. Shock from being caught jacking off, and shock from seeing my sister practically nude right in front of me. 

"Oops," she said with a giggle. "Is this a bad time?" She sashayed into the room and plopped down on my bed. It was apparent she didn't really care whether or not it was a bad time.

"Holy Shit," I said as I managed to pick my jaw up off the floor and regain control of most of my motor functions. I frivolously scrambled for anything I could cover up with while Stacy rolled on the bed with laughter. There was a towel on top of my dresser, so I snatched it and threw it around my waist as quickly as I could, my long erection making a huge tent in the front of it. I guess at that point it didn't really matter what she saw anymore.

"Jesus Christ, Stacy, what the hell's the matter with you?" I fumed. She was still laughing. "You don't just go around barging into people's rooms like that!"

"Oh, stop it." She said. She laid on her stomach on my bed, propping herself up with her elbows. Her beautiful tits were popping out of her bikini, and I could now see that the bikini bottom was a thong. "You're just mad because you got caught jerkin' your gherkin."

"I was not!" 

"Oh really?" She pointed toward my large erection that was now poking through the gap where the towel was wrapped around me. My first instinct was to try and cover it back up, but I didn't. My embarrassment was fading. Besides, she didn't seem to care, so why should I? What was the big deal? So I got caught jerking off. Chicks do that stuff all the time, too right? There was no use trying to deny it. Still, the naughtiness of the situation made me horny as hell. My 8-inch cock was pulsing now, keeping a steady beat with the racing of my heart. It was so hard it almost hurt.

"Okay, so I was jacking off. So what? That's exactly the reason you shouldn't be just walking into somebody's room when the door is closed!" I crossed my arms and stared at her sexy figure. My cock was aching to be stroked, and seeing her lying on my bed practically naked was definitely not helping the situation.

"Were you thinking about me?" she asked with a devilish grin.

"What?" I exclaimed, as if the question was ludicrous. "What the hell kind of question is that?" 

"It's okay if you were, Jimmy. It wouldn't bother me."

I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. I looked at her for a minute and decided to risk it. She had been playing some sort of seductive game ever since she'd been home. I wasn't sure where it was going, but right now I was definitely in the mood to play along.

"Okay fine. Yeah I was thinking about you."

"I knew it!" She giggled and kicked her feet. I laughed, a little relieved that the embarrassment of the situation seemed to be fading.

"Well how could you blame me? I mean...you've been walking around with your tits hanging out ever since you got off the plane."

She laughed again. "You mean these?" She rolled onto her back and pulled her bikini top to the sides, revealing the most gorgeous set of tits I'd ever laid eyes on. She cupped them in her palms and pushed them together, giggling like a little girl. "Do you want me to hold them like this while you finish jacking off?" Just the sight of her big breasts and the thought of staring at them while I jacked off were almost enough to make me cum right there. She arched her back and began caressing them and rolling her nipples between her fingers. "Ooh, come on, baby. Stick your dick between my tits and cum all over my face!" she moaned. I did my best to keep my composure, but this was too much for me to take. My dick was going to explode if I didn't do something soon.

"Stacy, this is too fucking weird. I can't deal with this. I think you should leave."

She frowned at me. "Oh come on, Jimmy, relax. I'm just fucking with you. Geez, take a joke, will ya?" She rolled over onto her stomach again and put her tits back into her top. "The only reason I even came in here was to show you my new swimsuit. What do you think?" She struck a pose, arching her back and pushing her tits together with her arms. I wanted to tell her that I wanted to rip the suit off her and fuck her right there, but I couldn't. 

"I think you're acting really weird, Stacy! I mean...I'm standing here naked in front of you and it's like you don't even care!"

She rolled her eyes at me. "Oh come on, Jimmy, so you're naked. Who cares? It's not like I've never seen a penis before. Every guy has one, dear. It's not a big deal." Then her eyes fixed on my hardness, and she hesitated for a moment. "Although," she paused, "yours is somewhat of a big deal, isn't it?" She sat up and moved herself to the edge of the bed, leaning forward and staring hard at my cock. She motioned for me. "Come here."

I hesitated for a moment, dismissing the thought that she was my sister as quickly as it had come. I walked to the edge of the bed and Stacy grabbed the towel and pulled it off my body. My cock was throbbing, dangling an inch of front of her face. My heart raced. She examined it like it was some strange, foreign object.

"Oh my God, Jimmy. You're dick is huge. I've never seen one this big before." She reached up and grabbed ahold of the shaft. 

I melted. Just her touch made my whole body tingle. My knees felt like they were going to buckle. I let out a low groan as a few drops of cum leaked out onto her hand. "Ooh, I'm sorry," she whispered with a slight laugh. She stuck her tongue out and licked the cum from her fingers, her lips brushing my cock and making me insane. "I didn't mean to grab it like that, but...I just couldn't help myself." 

"What do you mean?" I asked, practically in a daze and consumed by lust.

"Well it's just so...big. I've never seen anything like it." She sat back on the bed and parted her thighs. "To be honest, it really...turned me on." She slowly slid her hand beneath the low waistband of her bikini bottom while her eyes remained focused on my pulsing member. "Oh yeah...I'm wet." She let out a soft moan as her fingers began exploring beneath her swimsuit. I couldn't believe what was happening. I was standing naked in front of my incredibly hot sister, watching her masturbate while she was stroking my rock-hard cock. Suddenly, she leaned forward and slid the tip of my dick into her mouth. The warm, wet sensation of her tongue sliding over my dick was like pure heaven. Slowly, she began to work her lips and tongue over my cock, letting out muffled moans as her other hand moved rapidly beneath her swimsuit. 

"Oh, Stacy," I groaned, watching the first few inches of my hardness sliding in and out of my baby sister's mouth. "What are we doing?" I reached down and put my hands on her head, running my fingers through her hair while she sucked me. 

She took my dick out of her mouth and threw her head back, moaning violently. Her right hand was buried deep in her bikini bottom, her fingers thrusting in and out of her sopping wet pussy. She had sprung back so hard that her tits had popped out of her swimsuit again. I looked down and saw the hard nipples poking out at me and couldn't resist anymore. I pushed her down flat on her back and pulled the bikini top over her head, simultaneously burying my face in her beautiful titties. I slurped and sucked and licked her nipples while she brought herself to orgasm with her fingers. 

Once she finished, she didn't say a word. She jumped off the bed and slid her bikini bottoms down to her ankles, revealing the most beautiful pussy I'd ever seen. She grabbed my shoulders and pushed me down on my back on the bed. She then jumped on top of me and moved forward, straddling my face. Her open pussy lips pressed against my mouth. I began thrusting my tongue in and out, drinking her sex as it flowed into my mouth. She leaned back and moaned, grinding her hips in rhythm with my licking. She grabbed ahold of her huge tits and squeezed them hard while I fucked her with my tongue. 

I couldn't take it anymore. She had been teasing me long enough. I reached up and took her by the waist, lifting her up and sliding out from underneath her. I then turned around so I was directly behind her. She bent over forward and spread her legs, inviting me to thrust my cock into her. I positioned myself behind her on the bed and began to slide the head of my dick up and down her pussy lips. She moaned deeply.

"Oh God, Jimmy put it in. Fuck me hard with that huge dick of yours."

Without any further hesitation I thrust my hips forward and buried my cock deep inside her. I was instantly euphoric. I began thrusting, slowly at first, watching her huge tits bounce each time I slid my cock forward. She was practically screaming now. 

"Oh my God! Fuck me! Fuck me harder!" she screamed.

I could feel the pressure building in my cock. I wasn't going to last much longer. I let go and started fucking her hard. I put my hands on her hips and looked down at her tight ass while my dick disappeared again and again into her pussy. I pulled her body toward me and then pushed her back out, pumping her sopping pussy until my dick was ready to explode. 

"Oh God I'm gonna cum!" I groaned

"Don't Stop!" she screamed. "Oh my God I'm cumming too!"

I felt the muscles of her pussy contract and my cock exploded like never before. I kept pumping into her from behind as I spurted load after load of hot semen into her pussy for what seemed like forever. It was the longest orgasm of my life. Stacy fell down to her face on the bed, breathless. She told me later that the orgasm had been so strong that she'd actually blacked out for a moment.

When my orgasm finally subsided I collapsed on top of her. She turned over and pressed her lips to mine.

"That was the most incredible sex I've ever had," she said.

"Yeah, me too." We both laughed and laid in bed tangled in each other's nakedness for a while. 

We spent the whole week that our parents were away having the best sex of our lives. We must've sucked and fucked each other fifty times in that week. After that we carried on just like normal. But every now and then, when we get together after a long period of time, we look at each other and remember that first time. We're both married and have moved on with our lives now, but I think the longing is still there when we see each other. It is for me, at least. After all, how many people can say the best fuck they ever had was their little sister?



Looking Back



For any Americans amongst my readers, Sixth-form is the last two years of high-school





Looking Back



Warning! Every now and then I write a story that is a little darker than usual. This is such a story. If you have trouble with non-consent, group sex or interracial, you might want to pass on this one. Thank you to Techsan for making my story a much better read and for his suggestions.

DG Hear

*

Chapter 1 - Helen Begins

I'm a woman in my mid-forties. I've had what would be considered a normal life. I went to a community college and got a degree in secretarial work. I met my husband at the office when he came to check our books. He was an accountant. He wasn't nerdy or anything like that. We hit it off right off the bat.

We started dating and got married two years later. We have a nice house, two newer model cars, and we have two grown kids. Our daughter got married recently and our son is a senior in college.

All in all we've had a good twenty-four years together. We are like most marriages and have our disagreements. We are always able to eventually iron them out. John, my husband, is a pretty smart person. Together we ran a pretty tight ship at home. Our kids have grown up to be responsible adults.

This story is about our sex life. Before I met John I was pretty wild. Having sex was one of the things I did a lot. I guess you can say I was pretty promiscuous. I've had sex with a number of men. I never kept track like guys seem to do. Luckily, most of it was during my late high school and college years.

John knows that I wasn't a virgin when we married but I don't know if he knew how wild I was.. A number of times through our marriage John would ask me about my past. I would tell him over and over again that it is what it is, the past. In the last couple of years, John seemed to have changed.

I know a few women that John had dated before we got married. They're not any close friends of ours but throughout our marriage I have found out most of John's past sex life. It was normal, I was told, nothing wild or freaky. As far as I know he didn't have any real fetishes or anything like that. He hasn't really changed in all these years, until lately. He likes oral sex like most guys. During our early years together we did it quite often. He would prefer to receive than give. So, that's the rule I went by. If he gave oral sex, he got oral sex. Now he has to be really horny before going down on me.

He is pretty much like most men I have known. If they know they are going to get some pussy, the foreplay is almost extinct. I do have to say that John usually tries to hold off till I climax. He's one of the few men that I've been with that feels that way.

Our sex life in recent years has been maybe once a month or so. It's normally missionary or he likes to do it doggie style. My favorite was with me on top straddling him but he never cared for that position much. I think he wants to dominate and he can't do that when he's on his back.

Whenever we saw a porno film or a hot movie, John got hot to trot for sex. He'd start asking me about my past. When I didn't tell him anything he told me to make up a story; to fantasize out loud. I started out years ago telling him what a big cock he had and how good it felt. It was a fantasy, because John was hung like most men I've seen. I've seen some smaller cocks and a few really large ones; most seem to be average. I've never been a size person but more toward how well it's being used.

To be honest, if I were to suck a cock, I prefer a skinny one. It's a lot easier on my jaw. If I'm going to put it in my pussy, the fatter the better. Length really doesn't enter the picture with me except for long strokes; less chance of a long dick coming out.

I've had it in my ass twice in my life before being married. I didn't like it. If I were ever to be forced to have anal sex, I would definitely want a small skinny cock.

For fantasies I always give John what he wants. I usually refer to my past for the information needed. John just never knows it. I have probably told him about most of my sexual escapades in my fantasy talk.

Now that I'm older, sex doesn't really mean that much to me. Sure I'll make love to John whenever he wants it. It feels good up to a point. After awhile I just want it to end; especially if I have already climaxed. John's at a point in his life that he just plows away till he cums; there's not a lot of affection which I would prefer.

Throughout my married life I have not had sex with anyone other than John. Many times he has asked me what I thought about this guy or that guy. I believe he has been reading too many stories about guys giving their wives to other men. I saw him on the computer and he asked me to read part of a couple of stories.

"John, you have to understand that most of what you're reading is pure fantasy written by mostly guys and the fantasies they dream up. Most women, especially happily married ones don't want to be gang banged or be someone's slut. I'm not saying that there aren't any women like that, but they sure aren't in the majority and I know I'm not one of them."

I thought I knew John so well, but lately I'm not so sure. We talked or I should say argued a number of times about extramarital sex. He would read stories and it would say how their marriage was saved because the wife went out and got some strange cock. I told him it was pure bullshit. Extramarital sex ruins marriages. I would go through a list of our friends and known acquaintances whose marriages were destroyed due to extramarital affairs.

I honestly didn't know if I was getting through to him, so one time I told him to go out and have his affair and see what it would do to our marriage. To the best of my knowledge he never did it. It still didn't stop him from talking about it.

When we would go to dances he would always watch me. If a guy got fresh with me I would tell John to see how he would react. As long as I stopped the advances he seemed happy about it. He would also talk about it during his lovemaking that night, asking me if I liked it or wished I wasn't married. 

I think John was looking for more or different sex due to his age. I could be wrong but it was like he felt he missed something. You know, he went through his sexual age and nothing special happened. Maybe he wanted threesomes or something. Now he was looking back with regret. I'm just guessing here but it is really bothering me. I'm happy with our life. The sex isn't great but as I mentioned earlier, that's fine with me. I would never want an open marriage or a swinging life.

I talked to a lot of my girlfriends and we talked about relationships. A couple of them were divorced and were having affairs with married men. I asked them how they could ruin someone else's marriage like that. I was told that these married men would be in the bars and lounges looking for women. These marriages were already doomed or were open end marriages. The husbands didn't care if their wife had sex with other men; at least that is what I was told. It was still hard for me to believe.

There couldn't be much love if a man wanted to watch his wife being screwed by other men or cheat on his own wife. I thought about John and he never came out and said he wanted to watch me with other men but he seemed to hint about it a lot during our lovemaking. I was beginning to wonder if my John really loved me anymore.

I did a stupid thing. The next time we went out and John had a little too much to drink I pretended I had drunk too much also. I was on the dance floor and I let this stupid guy put his hand on my ass. To be honest, I really didn't like it but I wanted to see what John would do. Since I didn't stop the asshole he raised my skirt and put his hands on my ass.

Still no response from John who I can see was watching the whole scene right in front of him. When the man slid his hand inside my panties I had enough of him and pushed him back away from me. Of course his hands immediately came out of my panties. When I went back to the table, John kind of looked away like nothing had happened. I didn't know what to think about John anymore. He was supposed to be my love and my protector, but most of all my husband. I probably should have said something but I didn't. I didn't want to argue with him right then.

I decided after that to try and be more loving to John. More oral sex or whatever he wanted. We even had anal sex a couple of times. I never did like it but I was doing it for John. It didn't make any sense to me. He was an inch away from a perfectly fine pussy and he chose the asshole. I guess it made him feel like he was more in control or something. It didn't do much for me besides hurt.

I was worried about our marriage and did my best to be a loving wife. I had hoped it would be enough. Of course that was until the Halloween Party that we attended in Atlantic City.

We decided to take a short vacation to Atlantic City, just the two of us. I was hoping maybe we could light a few romantic fires together. We both took a couple of days' vacation and went in October. There would be a lot fewer people there at that time and the weather would be cool. It just so happened that the hotel John picked out was having a Halloween celebration while we were there. It was a hundred dollars a couple with booze and food included. They were to have a band and everything. We decided to attend.

Chapter 2 - John Speaks

I was in my twenties when I got married. I had sex with a number of women before I got married but no one was like Helen. She was in a class of her own when it came to sexual positions. We met when I came by her office to check the company's books. I was an accountant for an independent firm. Helen was a sexy woman back then. She still looks pretty good today but like all of us we start showing our age.

It was our third date when we finally had sex. We went out to dinner and ended up at her apartment where we teased each other for a while and then had sex. She didn't think twice about going down on me. I was standing there taking off my pants when she just dropped to her knees and started sucking on my cock. I couldn't believe it. The only blow jobs I ever got before was from hookers.

Helen was different. It looked like she was enjoying it. Unlike the hookers who spit it out into a tissue, Helen swallowed it. Damn, she was hot. I was hard again in no time and it took a long time for me to produce another load which I deposited in her pussy. She was one hot lady.

We dated regularly after that. She would tease me with the sex. Sometimes she would make me wait and it kind of aggravated me. I felt I was the man and I should be in charge. I remember when she stopped going down on me. She said she would gladly do it but I had to do it to her first. I have to be honest here. I never went down on women before Helen. I always thought it was nasty. I know the damn double standard thing. It wasn't that; I just had never done it before.

After one of our dates when I was pretty drunk, Helen scooted up the bed and planted her wet pussy over my face. I could hardly breathe. Finally she rose up a couple of inches and told me to start licking. I found out it wasn't so bad and continued until she came on my face. After that time I didn't have as much problem eating pussy. In fact I rather enjoy it at times. Besides, if I ate her out, I got the blow jobs she was so good at giving.

I fell in love or at least in lust with all the sex. We got married after dating a couple of years. During our marriage we separated once but I missed the sex and we went back together. There were times that I would leave after an argument but I usually came back within a day or so. Our separations always circled around sex.

We had two wonderful kids. After they were born our sex life changed immensely. We had sex or made love but it was maybe once a month or so. Helen seemed to grow right into motherhood. I'm not saying that is was a bad thing but I missed a lot of the spontaneous sex. Helen told me we could have sex, but needed to plan it around our family.

I knew she was right but I guess I didn't want to grow up. I wanted to live life to the fullest. At least in the sexual department. I fantasized a lot and often wondered about how other men coped.

Most people thought we had a happy marriage. I guess it was good comparing it to other people we knew. I was coach of the kids different ball teams. Helen was a girl scout leader and PTA member at the school. We both showed real interest in our kids' lives.

When the kids became older I was hoping that Helen and I might get back to our old sexual habits and maybe start trying new things. I started reading erotic stories and I have to admit I wanted a life like many of the men I read about. Somewhere along the line of life I felt I had missed out.

I know some men would call me a wimp because I wanted to experience my wife with other men. I don't know how to explain it, but I'll do my best. I knew my wife had a promiscuous past to say the least. She never told me but I heard her talking with a few of her old girlfriends at reunions and parties. She would never tell me about her past, but it wasn't hard to figure it out. She was too damn good in the sack and too experienced to have been a wall flower.

I would get a hard-on and masturbate to some of the stories I read. I would picture Helen being with another man or even a woman. Yes, I knew she did it with her girlfriends in college. I brought the subject up to her a couple of times but she always denied it.

I want to try to define my situation and feelings. I don't expect people to agree with me but I want them to try to understand where I'm coming from. I never wanted Helen to cheat on me, going behind my back and having affairs. I wanted to be in charge and part of it. I wanted her to want to have the extramarital sex with me there. A threesome or even a swap. The thought of it gets me hard. The main thing is after it's over we return home together and go on with our lives.

Love had nothing to do with it other than the feelings we had about each other. I read it in stories all the time. Hollywood is loaded with husband and wives like this. These men watch their wives play these parts and get felt up and everything but they go home together at night.

I just want my own section of the sexual revolution. Helen was happy with our sex life the way it was. For you people reading this story right now, picture your wife in the bedroom with another man right now. He's with your wife, naked on the bed, her legs spread and he's pushing a hot cock into her. You walk in and she smiles at you as you lean over and kiss her. The man knows you're in charge; he is only there as your wife's sex toy and he knows it. He's not there to humiliate you or her. Just to give pleasure. You watch as your wife reacts to the large cock pumping into her.

In another room is his wife waiting for you to have sex with her. She is on the bed with her legs spread rubbing herself in preparation for you. After everyone has had their fun, the couple leaves and you and your wife have a good night's sleep.

Does that make me a wimp? I'm just trying to be honest with my wants and desires. Most people try to hide behind morality or love. We basically are all animals and want sex. I'm just one of those people who is not afraid to admit it. Unfortunately my wife is.

A few years back after a short separation with Helen, I sort of had an affair. I was on a trip and met up with a married woman in a lounge at the motel where I was staying. She was on a one day business trip also. We just got to talking and one thing led to another so we went to her room and had some wild sex. She said her husband didn't understand her needs and I told her I was in the same boat. We fucked about three times that night.

I got her number and tried calling her one time but she said she made a mistake. She loved her husband and didn't want me to call her anymore. I figured she didn't want any commitments which I didn't either. I never bothered her again.

It's funny when you cheat on your spouse. You now wonder if they had cheated on you. It's what I wondered about Helen. I actually followed her when she went out with her friends. She did nothing wrong but I still wondered. Cheating does that to you.

Helen and I were back together within a few weeks. About a year later I cheated again when I was out on business. I've always wanted to have sex with a black woman and this one looked nice. We began talking and she asked me what I was leading up to.

I told her the truth, that I've always wanted to be with a black lady. She laughed, "Honey, I've been with other white men. Believe me there's no difference."

I reached over and put my hand on her lower thigh. I looked her in the eye and slowly slid my hand up to her panties. She put her hand on top of mine.

"Honey, I'm not a hooker. I am a black horny woman who hasn't been with a man in over three months. If you want to move that hand any further, you'll have to take me to your room and fuck me till I tell you to stop. I'll expect you to be eating out my black pussy. Now it's your move," she said.

I had a hard on that talked for me. I pulled out one of my little long lasting pills and popped it in my mouth right in front of her. She laughed as we headed up to my room. We fucked like bunnies. I ate her black pussy and she sucked my cock. Damn, this is the kind of life I wanted, only I wanted Helen to be part of it.

I had bought the prescription after getting back with Helen. I wanted my sexual actions to last longer to please Helen. I can't honestly say she appreciated it. I do have to admit that I did feel somewhat bad about cheating on her. That was my problem. I didn't want us cheating on each other but to be part of each other's lives. Helen kept saying that it was all fantasies that I read in those stories. Real marriages didn't need sex outside of marriage. She asked me if I had ever cheated on her and I told her no; I think she believed me.

It seemed like in the last few months Helen's barrier to sexual activities has been slowly changing. We went to a lounge and dancing and I watched her dance. She didn't think I noticed but I saw her letting a guy feel her ass. I couldn't believe it when I saw it. The man whom I didn't even know was taking some pretty heavy liberties with my wife and she didn't seem to care.

It was dark where they were dancing near the wall and he had her skirt up and I think he had his hands in her panties. I couldn't believe my Helen was letting it go this far. I felt my cock getting hard. This is what I've been waiting for. The music stopped and she pushed him away and came back to the table. I wasn't sure what to say. I decided to wait and let her tell me about the guy. She never brought it up.

Other times when men made passes she would tell me about it. It usually ended there and she didn't dance with the man the rest of the night. This time she didn't even mention it. I was a bit torn about it. For one thing, I had a hard-on from watching her but at the same time I didn't want her cheating on me. I wanted her to tell me. She never did.

After the situation at the dance my sex life improved greatly. Helen started initiating sex and we even went back to having oral sex. Twice I asked her for anal sex and we did it. I have to tell you that it makes a guy feel superior when he's fucking a woman in the ass. I think my Helen was finally coming around.

Now I wanted to get her a little more involved. There was a salesman that comes into our office and I've had lunch with him a few times. We got into a discussion about sexual stuff and he said he used to cheat on his wife. One day she caught him and they had a big knock down drag out fight over it. He gave her an ultimatum. He wanted more sex and he was going to have it. She took the ultimatum and divorced him.




Looking Back



The woman he was cheating with is now his second wife. He told me that they have an open marriage. He said it did wonders for his sex life.

I asked him about love since he was married for ten years to his first wife and had a son.

"Look," said Tom. "I'm not this big romantic guy that needs a lot of love, but I do need sex. My second wife and I are both on our second marriage. I have a son from my first marriage who lives with his mother. We both love him. I don't flaunt our open marriage. It something we do on the side."

"Damn, I wish Helen was like that. I fantasize about her being with other men but she pretty much tells me it will never happen," I replied.

"I have an idea,"said Tom. "Mary - that's my wife - and I are going to a Halloween party next month in Atlantic City. Why don't you suggest to your wife a little vacation and get away for a couple of days. Maybe we can do a little swapping," suggested Tom.

"She'd never go to a swingers party, I'm sure of that," I mentioned to Tom.

"John, it's not a swingers party. It's a party thrown by the motel. It's a hundred dollars a couple. I will tell you that we will have some of our swinger friends there. Your wife doesn't need to know about any of them. In fact don't even tell her we're going if you don't want too. I think before the night's over your wife might change her mind."

Damn, it sounded good to me. "Tom, the only thing I ask is that when you're with Helen that you don't force her. If she says 'No!' let it go. She's still my wife."

"No problem, John. There will be a lot of women there for me to have my fun. If your wife says 'No' then no it is. I won't force her. I can tell you right now that Mary won't say no to you. She loves sex," he laughed.

When I got home that evening, I asked Helen if she would like to go away for a weekend. Just the two of us? I told her about Atlantic City and the Halloween party and she was excited. It had been awhile since the two of us went away on a vacation without the kids.

Helen was ecstatic with joy. We were going to spend a nice weekend together. I mentioned the Halloween party to her so we would have a nice costume to take with us. She fixed an outfit for me as a cowboy, hat, vest, jeans and boots. To some people it might not look like much but for a guy who wears a suit and tie everyday, I figured I'd look pretty cool.

Helen was going to dress as a prostitute. Short skirt, long boots, and a blouse that showed her bra and boobs. She said she was going to wear a blond wig in case we came across anyone we knew. She said she'd feel a little embarrassed but thought it would be fun.

Chapter 3 - The Halloween Party

Helen and I had been getting along so well since I suggested the vacation. At times it made me wonder if I was doing the right thing. I was obsessed with opening her eyes to a new and better relationship. I had convinced myself that this is what we both needed. I was like a drug addict looking for that magical high or even the cigarette smoker who would do anything for that cigarette except give it up.

My entire mind was telling me that we needed a new sexual start and we were two people who could handle it. I had tunnel vision when it came to sex and our relationship.

We left for our vacation on Thursday and would be back on Sunday. When we arrived at the hotel and saw all the bright lights of Atlantic City, my Helen smiled and hugged me. For the first two nights - Thursday and Friday - everything was great. We gambled some, Helen loved the slots, and saw a show each evening. We ate out at some nice restaurants. Helen thanked me over and over for the suggestion of coming. We had sex each night and it was good. I kept thinking how much better it was going to be.

We were at our motel dining room having breakfast when I saw Tom and his wife Mary checking in. He glanced around and saw us and headed over to say hello.

"John, so good to see you. I take it this is your lovely wife? Nice to meet you, Helen, isn't it?" replied Tom as he gently shook Helen's hand.

I stood up and greeted him and introduced him to Helen. "Helen, this is Tom, a salesman and friend who deals with our firm. He's the one that suggested a getaway for a couple of days. He told me it was good for him and his wife." "So, Tom, I see you were able to make it to this Halloween party."

"Yeah, I talked with Mary and she said she'd like to get away for a couple of days. She in turn called a couple of her friends and convinced them to come also. If you two would like, you are welcome to join us and our friends at the party. At least everyone won't be strangers," he laughed.

Helen thanked him for the invitation and said it would be nice. Tom was a salesman and could be very convincing. He was already on Helen's good side. Tom's wife walked up and joined us. She was a good looking and sexy woman. She said hi to Helen and introduced herself, then she said hi to me. I already had thoughts of swapping with these two.

I should give a brief description of the two women. Helen was average height, around 5' 6" maybe 140 lbs. I've never been good with guessing weight. My sweet wife was always on a diet. She is a bottled brunette now. She has large breasts around 36's or 38's. I haven't look at her bra tag lately. She does have one fine ass. God, how I loved to get behind her with one hand on each hip and plow away. I guess I'm getting away from the story.

Mary was a dainty little thing. Maybe 5' 1" 110 lbs. Blond and definitely sexy. Tom and I were about the same height and build. We both exercised some so we weren't flabby, but not exactly Adonises either.

Tom smiled when he saw Helen. I figured he was ready for a swap. Our two wives looked so different in nature. I don't know if Tom let Mary in on a possible swap or not, She acted so nice to both me and Helen. We all talked for a few minutes and they went to their room. Helen told me she thought they seemed like nice people.

I mentioned that they lived in New Jersey and Tom came to the office about once a month. I didn't know a lot about him other than he had a good personality and looked physically fit. I sure didn't tell Helen about anything personal. I was thinking to myself that, other than being swingers, I really didn't know a lot about them.

We got dressed for the party and I had on my cowboy outfit. I actually thought I looked pretty good. Helen did look like a hooker in her blonde wig. She put her makeup on thick with ruby red lipstick. She had on long dangling earrings with a matching bracelet. Her blouse was see through but she had on a silk white bra which probably covered more than a bathing suit top, but seeing through it was sexy as hell. It was low cut and showed ample breasts.

She had on a black mini skirt but didn't wear a garter belt. She had on textured pantyhose and did wear panties underneath them. When she bent over and you looked real hard the imagination would soar. She also wore some high heeled boots which made her look really tall. If I didn't know she was dressed up like that, I doubt if I would have recognized her.

I told her she better stay in the hotel because she could be mistaken for a real prostitute. She told me that was the general idea and she had no plans on turning any tricks except for me after the party.

When we went downstairs, the party was in full swing. There must have been over a hundred people there. We sat at a table with three other couples. They were all friends of Tom and Mary's. Another table behind us also had some of their friends. There was a buffet set up with food which would be available for the first three hours. Drinks were also included for the first five hours.

The Halloween party started at seven and the music and dancing would start at nine. So for the first couple of hours we all got to know one another. Basically people talked about their jobs and families. The food was great and we keep doing our share of the drinking. Helen was drinking a little more than usual but a drink would last her at least a half hour.

Some of the costumes were really neat. We had most of the superstars like Batman and Robin. A few others dressed like hookers and a wide range of whatever some of these people could find to wear. Tom was dressed like the Devil in a two piece red outfit. Mary dressed as Little Bo Peep. I couldn't wait to find her sheep. A few guests didn't have on costumes but most did. Anyone without a costume had to at least wear a mask for entry into the party.

As the night went on, Helen drank more and let her guard down and was having a good time. I played with her ass every chance I got. She stopped me at the beginning but after having a few drinks she just went with the flow. She told me she was propositioned three times. Some guests wondered if she really was a hooker. I know it made her feel good to still be wanted. I'm sure every woman likes that.

She danced with every guy in our group and I danced with a lot of the women. I found out later that they weren't all married couples. Some were just dates that enjoyed a good time. As I mentioned earlier, the party wasn't for swingers but most of Tom and Mary's friends were.

Tom had told me that he felt up Helen some and she either didn't notice or she liked it. He figured by the end of the night she would be going to his room. At about eleven o'clock Helen said she was really feeling warm and she and Mary went up to our room for a few minutes. Both women returned with their hosiery off.

Helen told me she was just too hot and she also wanted to put on some flat shoes since she had been wearing her high heeled boots all night. Tom overheard our conversation and sat down and picked up Helen's legs and started rubbing her feet. She had quite a bit to drink and didn't notice how high her legs were being raised by Tom. I knew he could see her panties while rubbing her feet. He could see her trimmed dark mound pushing against her panties.

I was dancing with Mary at the time and she told me to slip my hand under her dress. I did and she not only had taken her tights off but was panty-less. I felt her hot wet pussy as she smiled at me.

Here I was fingering a woman not ten feet from my wife as her husband was rubbing my wife's feet and staring at her crotch. I had a hard on and pressed it against Mary till the song ended.

"Your husband gives such a great foot massage," said Helen to Mary as we returned to the table.

"That's not all he knows how to rub," said a smiling Mary. Both women laughed.

As the party was coming to a close, Tom and a few of his friends bought a few bottles of liquor to take up to their suites. I didn't know it but they all had suites rented in a row on the fourth floor. Mine and Helen's room was on the sixth floor.

Tom suggested all their friends head up to their room for nightcaps. I asked Helen if she wanted to go; she was half drunk and agreed to go. They all were getting up and I told Helen I was going to stop by our room and take off the boots and vest and would meet her there.

Tom put his arm around her and the group started heading up the elevator. Mary stayed behind and said she would come with me and we could go to her room later. As we entered the elevator she kissed me. As soon as we entered the room she was undoing my pants. She told me to get naked while she poured us a drink.

I knew we were going to fuck before going back to her room. Even if Helen backed out I would at least have fucked Mary. We downed our drinks and then laid on the bed and started kissing. I knew I had drank too much, but I sure wasn't going to pass up this fuck. She didn't take off all her outfit. She said it was too much to put back on so she slid off her slips and raised her dress to show me a beautiful shaved pussy.

"I should put on a condom," I said to Mary.

"I'm clean if you are," replied Mary. "It's up to you if you want the real thing."

I remember talking with Tom and I asked him if he had sex with Helen to please wear a condom and he told me he would. Here I was with his wife and she told me bareback was fine. I was too far out of it to worry and tossed the condom to the side.

It was the first time I had ever seen a shaved pussy and I got down between her legs and started sucking on it. God, she tasted great. I lost all sense of time as I climbed between her legs. She grabbed my cock and placed it at the entrance of her pussy.

"Okay, Cowboy, let's see how good you can ride a real woman," said Mary.

I was fucking her as hard as I could. It was great! The last thing I remember is shooting a load of cum deep within her pussy. I heard her moan as she was being filled.

The next thing I remember is it was morning and I was lying on one bed and Helen was asleep on the other. She was out cold and had on her nightgown. What had happened? Did I pass out? Did she have sex? So many questions, no answers yet.

Chapter 4 - Helen Explains What Happened

As we entered the party room it was overflowing with happy people. It reminded me of when I was still in college and we had these wild parties. The difference this time is I was with my husband and some people he knew. I tried to watch my drinking but I felt like I was drinking too much and did my best to slow it down.

I was having a fantastic time with my husband. Every time we danced, he would grab my boobs or ass. I just let him go, because I knew he loved it. Most of the men seemed pretty nice. A few were a bit vulgar, but I was dressed as a hooker and you get those types at almost every party. As the night rolled on I knew I was giving away a few feels. It was easier than fighting and besides, I was half drunk and it was a bit exciting. I didn't let anyone go under my clothes.

All I could think about was later when John would make love to me. I even brought along his Viagra to make sure he would last this time. I talked to Mary a few times. She seemed nice and to be honest I thought she might be Bi. I had been with other women before I married John and she kind of fit into that category.

I told Mary how hot it was and how my feet hurt. She suggested we go to the room and get rid of the undergarments and high heels. I agreed with her and we went up to my room. I took off my pantyhose but not my panties. I watched her stare at me and tell me to give the guys a thrill and get rid of the panties too.

"I can't do that," I tried to explain. "This skirt is way too short and everyone would see my ass." I thought I was pretty brave taking off the pantyhose and wearing a short skirt. I also put on a pair of flats. My feet ached.

I watch Mary remove her slips. She asked me to hold up her dress while she did it. I could see her shaved pussy. I tried not to look but I guess I thought about old times.

"Tom likes it shaved," she said when she saw me looking at her. "It's okay, I don't mind, I really don't," she replied.

I was somewhat lost for words. "We better head back down before the guys are wondering what we're doing," I said to a smiling Mary.

If I wasn't married to John, I don't know what I would have done. My younger days kind of flashed before me. I mentioned earlier that I was promiscuous. My roommates and I were quite wild in college. We did do a lot of experimenting, but with God as my witness, I have never cheated on my husband since we were married. My past was in the past.

Mary and I headed back down to the party. I was quite lightheaded by then and I would say my reaction time was a little slow. When John saw me without my pantyhose he smiled at me. He constantly grabbed my ass when we danced. I didn't care at the time; I was busy having a good time with my husband.

I danced with some of the other men and I know they took a few more liberties but I let it pass. I wasn't going to ruin a good evening over a little touching. Besides, it kind of reminded me of my younger days.

I was feeling very high at that time. Tom suggested we all go up to their suite for a nightcap and most everyone in our group started heading up. John told me to go ahead and that he was going to stop by our room and take off his boots and vest. Tom put his arm around me and we headed into the elevator with a full group of party goers. 

Once we were in Tom's room only a few people stayed. The rest said they were going to change their costumes and be back later. Tom handed me a drink and I was hot and nearly drank it all in one swallow. I looked around and there were a couple of couples making out. The odd part was they weren't with their dates or spouses. I looked over at Tom who was smiling.

"Where 's Mary?" I asked.

I was beginning to feel kind of funny, both a little dizzy and an odd sensation in my body. It was a tingling feeling. It started to bother me.

"Where's Mary? " I asked Tom again. "What did you just give me, Tom? You just drugged me, didn't you?" I was getting very nervous now.

"Easy, Helen, come sit on the bed before you fall over. I promise you I'll answer your questions."

Tom guided me to the bed and put his hand on my thigh. I was dazed but I put my hand on top of his.

"Don't, Tom! John will be here any minute. I'm a married woman and you're married to Mary. You shouldn't be touching me," I said.

"Don't worry about John. Mary is in your room and probably fucking John right now. Helen, Mary and I do a little swinging and so do most of our friends that were at the party."

"No, John wouldn't do that. He's my husband. I've been faithful to him," I cried.

Tom pushed me back on the bed. I felt weak and as he slid his hand up and squeezed my mound, I was feeling that tingling. "What did you do to me? Why am I feeling all tingly?

"I gave you a nice drug to help you, Helen. You should be starting to really feel the effects now. You're going to need to be rubbed and fucked. It's the only way to get rid of that feeling. Do you feel the tingling in your pussy? Here, I'll help you," he said as he continued to squeeze my mound through my thin wet panties."

God, this wasn't happening to me. I didn't want to cheat on John but I needed my pussy squeezed to help with the tingling. I watched as another man came over to the bed and unbuttoned my blouse and unsnapped my bra.

"No, you can't do that," I said in a very faint voice.

The man laughed as he bent down and took my nipples in his mouth, going from one to the other. I kept saying no to him but I was holding onto his head. God, what was the matter with me. A stranger was sucking on my breasts and Tom had removed my panties and was now fingering me. I tried again to resist but it was nearly futile. I needed them to keep working on me to help with the tingling.

I thought for a second about John. "Why, John, why? We had each other. Why are we doing this?" I wanted to be angry at John but right then I had to get rid of these sensations. The best way to explain it was that it felt like the start of an orgasm but I wasn't climaxing. I was like out there wanting to climax, but not able too. I figured this is how a nymphomaniac felt.

Tom was out of his devil suit and had his cock at the entrance of my pussy. As the other man was kissing and rubbing my breasts, Tom slowly pushed his cock into me. I didn't want it but I needed it. I had tears in my eyes as I felt Tom slowly fucking me. I didn't want to but I knew I was pushing back on every stroke. All of a sudden I could feel him climax in me. Oh, God, he didn't have on a condom. 

"No," I heard myself say. "It still tingles. You can't be done already!" My God, I found myself asking for more. The man on my breasts got off me and pushed his cock into my already wet pussy. 

"Yes, that's it, harder please, fuck me harder," I heard myself saying. I was asking a stranger to fuck me.

I looked up and there stood Mary. She was smiling as she took off the remainder of her costume.




Looking Back



I don't know why but I asked where John was.

"He's fast asleep after putting a load in my pussy. Just to make sure he didn't come here and interfere, I slipped him a sleeping pill like Tom asked me to do. He's out for the night. I did bring you a present from him," replied Mary.

She climbed on the bed and straddled my head with her knees on either side. Her pussy was directly over my face. I could see her cum covered shaved pussy only inches away from my mouth.

"Suck it, Helen. Suck your husband's cum from my pussy. I know you want to," replied Mary

"No, no, I can't do it," I said.

Right then the man in my pussy came and got off me. 

"Oh, God, the tingling is still there," I said.

"Start sucking," said Mary, "and I'll see you get more cock and get rid of that itch," she was smiling.

I don't know why I did it but I started sucking on Mary's pussy. I felt another cock enter my pussy. It helped the tingling so I worked on Mary's pussy. I was falling into their game. I couldn't help it. I was drugged and drunk and being fucked and eating my husband's cum out of another woman's pussy. I just let myself go. I really couldn't help it.

One man climbed off and another climbed on. I had lost count on how many men had fucked me; I just needed the tingling to end. I didn't really want to be fucking these men, but I needed it. As I was tonguing Mary she had an orgasm. She got off me and started kissing me. She and another woman started sucking on my breasts. My breasts still had a slight tingle too but for some reason these women knew what to do. They were gentle yet firm in their playing with my tits. It felt good.

I don't know how long I had been lying there getting fucked. The women were gone but different men kept appearing. A black man asked me if I wanted his black cock. I told him to just fuck me. For some reason he thought he was something special. I looked at his cock and it wasn't any longer or bigger than any others I had fucked. He must be trying to live the myth about black men.

I will say it was black. I mean really black. He kept saying if I wanted it, I had to beg him for it. I just needed a cock, even a dildo would do the trick but I guess I had to humor this ass.

"Please fuck me with your big black cock," I said.

He asked me to turn over because he liked to do it from behind. I turned over and he plowed into me. All the time while fucking me, he told me how good he was. I was nearly out of it but I knew this guy loved himself. I was just another piece of white trash to him.

When he climbed off another man climbed on. I overheard him talking to Tom while pushing his cock into me.

"Damn, Tom, where did you find this one? You gave her the pills, didn't you? Damn, she's a hot one. Does her husband know she's here?" the man asked.

"He wanted a little swap, so Mary fucked him and gave him a sleeping pill. He has no idea what's going on. He thinks I was going to try to get in her pants and send her back to his room," replied Tom.

I was still on my stomach when the next man took my ass. At least he had a thin dick and he coated it first with the cum in my pussy. I knew it wasn't his first time. It was very uncomfortable and even hurt some but it did help with the tingling. When he dumped a load in my ass I did my best to turnover before someone else got the same idea of taking my ass.

I was pissed at John but I wasn't sure what I was going to do. Tom was taking me a second time and I wanted to climax and end it all so bad. Mary came over and saw me rubbing my own pussy while being fucked by her husband.

"Ready to come, Helen? Want me to help you?" asked Mary.

Through teary eyes I said, "Please, Mary, I need to cum. Please help me."

Mary reached down and while her husband was busy fucking me, she rubbed my pussy. I could feel my climax building. The drug was finally wearing off as Mary kept smiling at me and rubbing my hot spot. I screamed out and pushed my hips up hard against Tom's cock. I must have come over and over again.

When the sensations were calming down Mary leaned over and kissed me. I did kiss her back as her husband exploded in me for the second time. He thought he was the one who made me come; he was wrong. It was all the total fucking, getting rid of the tingling and finally Mary rubbing my hot spot.

I crashed within minutes. I woke up in a daze maybe an hour later. There were bodies lying all over the place. I got up slowly. Damn, did I ever hurt. I staggered into the bathroom and let all the excess cum fall out as I took a pee. I wiped myself as best I could and put on my clothes. I looked in the mirror and didn't even recognize myself. I saw the different bottles of drugs sitting there and dropped them into my purse.

I quietly open the door and staggered up to the elevator and to my room. I glanced at the clock and saw it was after four. I must have been fucked over and over for more than three hours. I saw John asleep on the bed. He wasn't even under the covers. His limp cock was out of his briefs.

I was sore as can be. My legs ached from being apart for so long and my pussy was swollen and even a little bruised. I had to take a shower. I was in it for a half hour, trying to wash off the filth I felt. My pussy hurt so much and my breasts ached. I slipped on my nightgown and went to the other bed and stayed away from John. I know I didn't want to confront him then. I took one of the sleeping pills I found in Tom's room. I fell asleep and didn't get up till noon.

Chapter 5 - After the Party

I woke up and the room was quiet. John must have stepped out. I was rather glad to be alone. I needed time to think. My legs and private areas still hurt. I was honestly hoping that it was all a dream or should I say nightmare. I was wondering exactly what John knew and how involved he was in this escapade.

I was sure that he had sex with Mary, but did he know anything about what happened with me? If he set it up I would divorce him in a minute. He knew how I felt about swinging. I knew we had to talk when he came back to the room.

I was sitting there having a cup of coffee when there was a knock at the door. Maybe John forgot his key. I opened it and there was Mary. I was pissed but how much could I take out on her? She chose this lifestyle.

"Helen, may I come in? I need to talk to you."

I let her in; I needed answers and I was sure she had some of them. She came in and sat down. She looked cute standing there and I knew I probably looked like hell; at least I felt that way.

I spoke first as I poured Mary a cup of coffee. "Mary, I want to know why all this happened. John knew how I felt about swinging. Did he set it up?"

"I'm so sorry, Helen. Tom told me that John was interested in swapping but I didn't know to what extent. I'm pissed at Tom for lying to me. He told me that you were interested in trying it so of course I'm into it and went along. I had no idea till I came back to the room that he had drugged you and was using you. It was too late to do anything about it then."

"So John did set it up? You did have sex with him, didn't you?" I asked.

"John wanted to involve you with possible swapping but told Tom that if you said no, to forget about it. Yes, I fucked John. Tom told me to give him some sleeping pills which I did. I'm so sorry. No one should have been forced. It's something a person should choose to do. As far as you and I are concerned, I really did want you. You knew that when we were in the room changing earlier."

"Mary, I've never told anyone this other than my girlfriends in college but I liked woman on woman sex and did it in college. It was experimenting and I did enjoy it then. Now I'm a married woman and a soon to be grandmother. I'm happy with a normal marriage and a normal relationship. To me, this was all wrong. If Tom wouldn't have drugged me I would have never consented to any of it.

"What does John know about last night. Does he know that I was drugged and used?" I asked.

"Tom told me that he wasn't going to say anything to John. He was going to leave it up to you to tell him whatever you want. To be honest with you, I wouldn't totally trust Tom. He's my husband but I'm beginning not to trust him myself. I don't like what he did to you. I want you to know that. If you ever want to talk or see me, here is my number." She handed me a piece of paper. "Again, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me," asked Mary.

She got up and left. I wasn't sure what to think. I actually liked Mary; I believe she just made some bad choices in life. She was just a pawn in Tom's game of chess. I wished her the best and told her I didn't hold any grudges against her. Now I had to decide what I would say to John. I decided to find out what he knew first and what he would admit to.

By the time John came back to the room I was cleaned up and dressed. He told me he went and had lunch but didn't figure I wanted to be bothered. I was sleeping like a baby. I told him Mary gave me a sleeping pill and said it would help with the hangover. Of course I lied to see John's reaction.

"What happened to you last night, John? I waited and waited for you to show up. When I came back to the room you had your pants off and were asleep on the bed." I knew he had to say something. This just might be interesting.

"Helen, I have something to tell you. Please don't hate me but I had sex with Mary last night."

"You what?" I yelled. "Why, John? I was waiting for you and you were busy fucking another woman?" I said. I was putting it on kind of strong.

"It just happened. I came to change my clothes and Mary knocked on the door. I was drunk and it just happened. I'm sorry. Mary actually approached me. I didn't know it but Tom and Mary do some swinging. Did Tom try anything with you?" asked John.

Here it was, time to say something. I decide to lie to John. I would be able to tell if he knew anything. "I went back to Tom and Mary's room. I was drunk and Tom began coming on to me. He was grabbing my ass and trying to kiss me. I think he gave me some kind of drug and I passed out. The next thing I knew Mary was there helping me up. My clothes were disheveled but I still had them on. If it wasn't for Mary, I'd have probably been raped by your friend.

"Mary gave me that pill to help me sleep and I came back to the room and took a shower and went to sleep. I feel like shit, I have a headache and my legs are killing me. I don't know what to do about our marriage. I told you there are always consequences for our actions."

"I'm sorry, Helen, it just happened. I promise to never do it again," replied John. "The next time I see Tom I'll tell him I want nothing to do with him. You have to believe me."

I did believe John told me all he knew. He told me about Mary and I lied about what happened to me. I felt bad but I hated what happened. If John is telling the truth then it is all over. I'll just keep my dark dirty secret for now.

We packed our things and headed for the airport. I didn't see anyone that I recognized from the party, thank God. I told John we would have to give it some time. I wasn't sure what I was going to do but I needed time. We hardly talked all the way home.

The first thing Monday I went to the doctors and got checked out. I was hoping that I didn't catch any diseases. My doctor told me it looked like I was raped and wanted to know if I wanted to report it.

I told her there was nothing to report. I was really embarrassed but I needed to get checked out. She told me that I was a little bruised and should refrain from sex for a couple of weeks. As far as STD's go she ran some tests and said I was clean for now but time would tell. She told me I needed to check back again in six months. If nothing showed up then that my chances were good that I was okay.

I stayed away from John. I told him I wanted nothing to do with him right then. I didn't tell him about the doctor or he would have asked why I needed the doctor. John was acting pretty decent. I guess Tom didn't tell him anything after all. I asked him if Tom had been in lately and he told me he was but that he was out at the time and didn't get a chance to tell him off.

About two months went by and things were pretty much back to normal. I decided to have sex with John. I had to realize that I had lied to him and it did bother me but what good would it have done to tell him the truth.

One night I asked John if he wanted to make love. I was in a really good mood. We were now grandparents. Angie our daughter had her baby. We had a grandson. John smiled and asked if he should take his Viagra tablet. I told him yes and I went in and pulled out one of the pills that I took from Tom's room. Mary had told me that Tom had given me two pills that awful night. I wanted to keep up with John so I took a half of a pill. I figured it would be enough to give me a tingle but not too much.

I was right and it felt good. John was happy that he was having sex and I was getting my tingle scratched. I climaxed twice that night. It seemed as though life was getting back to normal. Then one day John seemed to have changed.

We were making love and he was back to his old self, asking me about my past and asking me questions. "Do you want a black man?" "Ever been with a woman?" "I bet you'd love a gang bang."

I don't know what had gotten into him but I didn't like it. I told him to stop talking to me like that but I could feel him getting harder every time he asked me a question. It began to really bother me.

The next day I got a call at work; it was Mary. I hadn't talked to her since Atlantic City.

"Helen, I had to call you. There is something you should know. I just found out last night that Tom made a video of you the night you were in our room in Atlantic City. I'm so sorry; I really didn't know. I think he was in Ohio the other day and he might have given a copy to John."

"Oh, my God! That's why John has been acting funny lately - he knows. Mary, how can you live with such a bastard? I'll have to face John and probably end up in a divorce. I have to tell him exactly what happened, that I had no control over what was going on."

"Helen," said Mary, "I'm leaving Tom too. I can't live with a man that would do that to other people. I like sex and it was fine as long as it was in the open, but him doing this to you was wrong. I moved out this morning and saw a lawyer. I'm getting away from Tom; I can't live with a lying man anymore. I'm so sorry, Helen. Please believe me that I had nothing to do with it. I never saw the tape. I overheard Tom telling one of his friends on the phone."

I was becoming a wreck. I thanked Mary for telling me. She didn't have to do that. As I mentioned earlier, she just made some bad choices. Now I had to confront John. I wish I would have told him what his friend Tom did to me that night. Maybe it would have made a difference but I have my doubts.

I left work early and went home and began searching for the video. The only place we had a VCR was in the den at the house. I felt like a sneak going through John's personal stuff. I knew he kept a box of porno in the top of the closet in the den. It was his closet and I hardly ever went into it. In fact he kept it locked ever since the kids were little.

I went in the desk drawer and took out the key and opened the closet door. I took down the box and looked through it. Right on the side was a tape with nothing written on it. I popped it into the VCR and there I was being royally felt up. I could hear myself pleading with Tom to stop and he was laughing. It was the beginning of the video.

It brought back the horrible things that happened to me that night. I put it back into the closet and called John and told him I would be going over to Angie's afer work to see her and the baby. I told him I would be home late.

I did go to Angie's but I went early. I told her I wasn't feeling good so I left work early. Seeing my grandson and holding him was wonderful. This was suppose to be what families were about; not swapping and fucking every person you meet. I waited till I knew John would be home and headed to the house. I walked into the spare room and there was John watching the video of me being raped and was masturbating to the picture of me on the screen. He didn't hear me walk in.

"You mother fucking son-of-a-bitch," I yelled out.

John jumped holding his cock in his hand when he heard me. "You sure told Tom off, didn't you? I came home because I thought I needed to tell you about that night and how your good friend Tom took me, drugged me and then shared me with his friends. Since you've been watching the tape, I guess you know all that. You are one hopeless wimp cocksucker," I said.

He tried to recover by telling me I let it happen and didn't tell him about it. I reminded him that I kept it from him to save our marriage. If he remembered correctly, Tom didn't tell him about it and had him drugged while they used me. "What would you have done if I had told you? Pull out your cock and start jacking off while I told you how I was being used? You're one pathetic son of a bitch," I screamed at him.

I looked over his shoulder and saw myself crying on the tape. "Sure looks like I was enjoying myself, doesn't it?" At least with the smeared make-up and wig, no one would know it was me except for the people who were there and they really didn't know me either.

John tried to talk and explain but nothing was coming out right. He knew I was right and our marriage would be over. I told him he could sleep in the spare room and jack off to the remainder of the video. He might want to take a couple of his Viagra since it will last a few hours. Tomorrow I would call off work and find somewhere to live. He could have the house and most everything in it. I didn't want anything that he and his filthy hands had touched.

I went into our bedroom and cried. I had to let it all out. I had held it back for too long. I finally cried myself to sleep. When I awoke the next morning John had left for work. I called off and packed some of my personal things.

I called Angie and told her that her dad and I were getting a divorce. I tried to explain that he wanted his freedom to live his life and I gave it to him. She knew that we were on rocky ground for the last few years. I guess I was the only one that didn't see it coming.

Angie set up a room for me at her house. Her husband, Bill, was a real sweet man and treated Angie with respect. They were both there for me while I was trying to get things in order. Thank God for them and my grandson. I spent most of my free time with him.

We lived in a fifty-fifty divorce state if it is irreconcilable differences. John got everything and an appraiser went though and estimated the total value. John had to give me fifty percent of the value of our house and belongings. Our savings were divided equally also. We each had our own vehicle and decent jobs.

Mary called me and said she would testify for me if needed. I told John if he wanted to fight the divorce or the distribution of assets that Mary was in my corner. Our divorce went through in record time.

I found myself a nice apartment on the same block that Angie and Bill lived. It was a perfect place for me with two bedrooms. I was finally going on with my life. My son came and visited me when he was home from college. He stayed at the house with his dad since his stuff was already there.

About a month after the divorce I got another call from Mary. She said she needed to get away and asked if I would mind if she visited me. I invited her to stay for awhile and we became good friends. Her divorce was final and she told me she had enough of that life. She saw how it ruined marriages and didn't want any part of it anymore.

Mary didn't do as well as I did in her divorce. I guess even though Tom made good money he had a tendency to squander it all. Mary had told me at least she left the marriage without any debts even though she didn't have anything but her clothes.




Looking Back



She was really a fun loving person. She told me she would like to move to my town. She wanted to be as far from her old life and Tom's friends as possible. I found out that she was an excellent typist and applied for a job at my office. She asked if I would be a reference for her. She was so excited when she got the job. I told her she could stay with me as long as she needed till she could get on her feet. I told her if she dated that I didn't want any men in my apartment. She told me that wouldn't be a problem.

Epilogue:

It's been two years since the divorce. I have a nice life and visit my grandson nearly daily. John tried to get back with me a few times, but I only see him at family functions when he attends. He told me that he had made a big mistake. It was only after he tested positive for the HIV virus.

I do feel sorry for him. After all I was married to him for twenty-four years and we had two wonderful kids together. He still tries to live a swinging lifestyle but he doesn't seem happy. I guess that swinging life style wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

I have been tested every six months for STD's but it shows up clean. Mary has been tested too and is so glad that her tests show up clean also. She often thinks what her life might have been like if she stayed in that lifestyle.

I should mention that Mary and I are best friends. She never did move out of my apartment. She pays half of the rent and half of all the utilities. She did save up and buy herself a little sports car.

It is really funny how much Mary and I have in common. We like the same things, same restaurants, same movies. We go out often and love shopping.

My kids think the world of Mary and consider her as part of the family. No one questions our living together but I might let you know that life is good between us. Neither of us has any reason to look back.

*

Thank you for reading my story

Comments are always welcome

DG Hear