8 comments/ 94825 views/ 19 favorites We Need to Talk By: stormyknight The characters portrayed in this entirely fictional story are over 18 years of age. The subject involves consensual father-daughter incest. Enjoy. * "We need to talk." The words every man dreads to hear from his wife and in this case with good cause. One otherwise uneventful August Saturday morning, I walked into our bedroom and found my wife Jan sitting in front of the computer. Her eyes were welled with tears, red and swollen, but her face unemotional, as one in shock from fateful news. I looked at the monitor. The condemning evidence was there on the silent screen. "Rick, we need to talk," Jan stated with an eerie coolness and unsettling steadiness in her voice. I could see out the e-mail inbox displayed on the monitor. And although too far away to read the text, I knew what this was about. I tried to remain collected outwardly, even though I had already sensed an abrupt increase of my pulse and blood pressure. How could I have been so careless? "Stay calm," I tried to reassure myself in the presence of my accuser, trying to avoid comment that would incriminate me even more so than the e-mail messages. Still not offering a response, I wondered what would hurt her more, being married to a liar or a cheat. Although at this point, the choice had been taken out of my hands since I was clearly guilty of being both a cheat and a liar. My thought was interrupted again by Jan's voice "How could you? And with our own daughter, you sick bastard." At once I felt the rise in the intensity and tone of her voice. "You don't even try to deny it or explain, do you?" She turned back to the screen as the tears began to fall freely again from the reddened eyes. Try as I may, how does a husband explain that he slept with his daughter? If I were to lie, she would know. Wives always know. Or, if were to admit it, I would be telling the truth but branded as a cheat. It was a "no-win / no/win" situation. Jan didn't say any more. She didn't need to. But how? How did she find out? I paused, took a deep breath to speak but my voice came out in a mere whisper, "I'm going out to the patio" and walked away quietly, leaving behind the silence of a suffering and broken heart. Opening the sliding door, I looked out to the soft sunlight filtered by the lattice, felt the rush of cool morning air meet my face and yearned for the same calm within. Pulling the recliner to the edge of the patio, I took a seat and looked out toward the stand of birch trees gently waving with the morning breeze. The slider interrupted my thoughts as Jan came out to the patio. She stood in front of me, arms at her side, with a look on her face that seemed to be desperately trying to search out some logical explanation for an illogical action, before she spoke. "I talked to Megan, so spare me the excuses and explanation. I don't want this to destroy our family, although it very likely could. Only time will tell. But just a part of me wants to know how this all happened. You owe me at least that much." I knew there was no turning back and my only hope was to tell it all. "This is where it all started" I reminisced, and began to weave the true tale of this affair. Looking back over the past three months, it was difficult to see how the progression of events began, but the path taken was very clear. End result, I was having an affair with my adult daughter. We bought this house in the country last year, making the move from our place in the city. Megan, our oldest at 20 was across the state attending the university in Seattle, completely happy with the "Seattle Life" and sharing an apartment with a classmate. Our son Andrew, at 18, was a recent high school graduate. He had his sights set on attending law school at the university in the eastern Washington city that we had just moved from. It was a logical choice for him. After all, he grew up in town and was active in school and sports. We made the move just before his senior year, but he was able to commute with me to finish his senior year and graduate with his classmates. Most of former classmates and team members remained in town, or at least planned to do so for the first year or two after graduating. And, since law was his career choice this was a logical school to attend. Life had been good to me. I was grateful that my business had done so well, providing more than adequately for the needs and wants of my family. Since making the move 18 months ago, I was able to work form an office in my home, but commuted to town frequently to meet with clients and take care of business. My wife Jan, a writer, traveled frequently but had the flexibility to enjoy life and time with the family. Moving to the country had always been a dream of ours. The idea of living close enough to town for our business needs, but far enough to leave the hustle and bustle behind seemed like a perfect match. But right now, I would have given anything to blend into the business and humanity, and escape the inevitable confrontation. "How did it all begin?" I wondered but knew full well, trying to avoid the obvious. I thought back to last May when Megan finished her second year of college, and asked to come home for the summer. She said that her roommate was going away overseas for the summer to work on an internship, and she would have the full rent obligation. We saw her only occasionally during the school term, between personal obligations and winter weather, so her homecoming was a welcome suggestion. Andrew was busy during May with sports, finals and graduation preparations. He planned to make a road trip during summer with a buddy before starting school in the fall. Megan's return would be perfect timing to attend Andrew's graduation. Jan and I also secretly admitted to each other that Megan's presence might help take the sting out of having an "empty nest". As always, it was good to see Megan. She was always a pretty girl, and special to both of us. We were grateful the she was a good student in high school and in college, and even more so that she kept out of trouble after going away to college, or at least on the surface, nothing presented itself to give us concern. However, when she returned in May, there was this something different about her that we just attributed to maturity. She still dressed "cute" and avoided trashy clothing but had a smoldering sensuality about her. Her skin was unblemished, thankfully avoiding the prevalent tattoos and piercings, except for the tasteful jewel in her navel. Life was busy with the graduation preparations, juggling our business obligations and finding time to spend together before the inevitable changes of summer. Andrew was busy with friends, and just "hanging out" with Megan. Jan and I did what we could to enjoy as much time working at home. Work days were often short and allowed for afternoon trips to the nearby lake. Like I said, business was good and we enjoyed the fruits of our labor. It was fun and refreshing to enjoy time relaxing together as a family for one last summer. We all knew that things would never be the same, and even though now as adults, we savored the days with Andrew and Megan as "children". Two days after graduation in June, Andrew and his best friend Jared, loaded up the car, checked the essentials one last time and drove away for their adventure. Andrew, as with Megan, was a good kid, honest and dependable. He kept in like company through high school and often had friends come over to the house. We felt confident that they would have a good trip, and barring any unexpected accident, had trust that they would not do anything to mar that trust. Megan said her goodbyes the night before, and enjoyed sleeping in on the morning that Andrew left. Andrew and Jared wanted and early start, anxious to get going, and we up at the crack of dawn. That left Jan and I to bid him farewell, and time alone for us afterward to reminisce. A fresh pot of coffee was brewing as the boys drove away, and at 7:00 AM the morning was still ours. We sat together on the patio and talked quietly, holding steaming cups of coffee. Megan, wearing baggy cotton pajama bottoms and an oversized University t-shirt, perky tits swaying as she quietly meandered onto the patio. Jan and I spoke in broken sentences, deep in thought. She pulled a pillow off the lounge and sat cross legged on the cool concrete. Hair tousled and eyes half open, she listened as we spoke of Andrew and Megan, memories of their childhood, the past year and predictions for their future. Megan took it all in but did not contribute, satisfied to listen to our memories. It was bitter sweet. Jan went in to prepare some fruit and toast to go with our coffee, and returned placing it on the nearby café table. We moved to the table for breakfast but Megan sat on her pillow, content to enjoy a cup of coffee. Following a leisurely breakfast and more discussion, I excused myself to shower and dress, as did Jan. I had business in town and Jan had preparations for a trip and meeting with publishers. Megan asked if she could use my computer in my absence to check on her e-mails. That was fine because I traveled with laptop which left the desktop completely available. Megan was still seated on the patio wearing her loose cotton pajamas as I walked toward the garage. Her honey blonde tousles of hair lying loose across her shoulders, now glimmering as the rising sun hit it. She was beautiful, even in the morning fresh from bed. No makeup, hair as it was when she awoke and wearing baggy pajamas. I took one last look at Megan and smiled, kissed Jan goodbye and headed into town. Living in the country has some unexpected benefits. It seems that the 45 minute ride to town, gives me the opportunity to prepare myself for the day. And, the peaceful drive home allows the sometimes hectic events of the day to just melt away long before I get home. On this trip, I suppose I was in a different mindset with Andrew's departure, and the walk down memory lane that followed. There would be some changes, and that was just part of life. My mind wandered from thought to thought, with reflections of my life with Jan, our children and just life in general. Jan and I had a good life. We had what I thought was a good relationship, active sex life and in general, enjoyed each others company. Neither of us had strayed, although from time to time, when things seemed a little stale the mind wondered. But in general, life was good. Just then, I started to have "thoughts". It was the kind of thought that just pops into a man's head, unprovoked. I had heard how many times per hour that a man has a sexual thought, but it just didn't seem accurate, just another slam on men and chuckled to myself. It was of no one in particular and everybody. I was having random thoughts of naked or provocatively dressed women, women from magazines, celebrities, neighbors, and even my secretary. It was a pleasant thought as I drove the open highway, now only half-way to town. It was strange that simple thoughts would cause such a stirring, but I now had a full erection. Thoughts moved to Jan and our sexual activities, then strangely enough to Megan earlier this morning. She was beautiful, admittedly, but I had never thought of her in a sexual way. It was a little odd, but an enjoyable thought as I just let my mind wander of Megan and her appearance. I had surprised Megan in various stages of dress, and undress, over the years. Nakedness and sexual awkwardness are inevitable when four people are in a house together 24/7. I had watched her develop into a budding teen, bringing the woman/child events that come with it. I recall times when she wanted to be a woman in a little girl's body, then later when she wanted to be a little girl in a woman's body, with so many obvious physical changes but not sure what to do with it. I learned that a father's job was just to be the dad, and not to try to figure out the women in his life. My wife taught me that lesson through experience, although she never verbalized it. Never before had I given a second thought to seeing Megan's body in various stages of undress, as I was as embarrassed as she was anytime we walked in on one another in the bathroom or bedroom. After the awkward two-hand cover up, and about face, it was always forgotten within minutes without a second thought. I saw, but didn't look. There is a subtle difference. But today, I was having that lingering thought. And oh what a nice thought it was. Almost a little too nice of a thought I wondered, but safe since it was unusual and she wasn't really there. The familiar sights of the city began to come into view, and my daydream was regretfully forced to come to an end. My day of business went on as any other, and I enjoyed the peaceful drive home. Andrew called late that afternoon to proudly announce that he had passed over two state lines and was half way across Montana. He said that they would spend some time in Glacier Park, then move on to Yellowstone for a few more days. I was pleased that he was feeling good about the trip, which was more of a statement of independence than just a vacation. Jan called to say that she had safely arrived in Chicago and would be meeting with her publisher the next morning. The trip was combined with a seminar and book signing in New York. Jan would be gone a full week. She traveled just often enough to enjoy the trips, the hotels and the time away. As much as she enjoyed traveling and the restaurants and hotels, she admitted that she would not like a life on the road. Jan reminded me of the necessary things to do at home, and although Megan was there and I was no stranger in the kitchen, had provisions set aside for several meals. I appreciated that trait in her, and closed by saying that I would call later to say good night. The August sun was still high in the sky when returned home, and barely a breeze. The garage doors opened and it seemed strange to see it empty. I felt a pang of loneliness, with Andrew on the road, and Jan's car at the airport. Megan did not have a car and regretfully was dependant of us for transportation with home from school. After all, who needs a car when you're in downtown Seattle? Wisely for her, she said it seemed like such an unnecessary luxury. I half expected to see Megan after I parked the car and went into the house. I slipped off my shoes at the door, set my briefcase on the table and walked toward the hall, passing the open bathroom door. Over the sound of the shower, I called to Megan as a courtesy to let her know I was home and heard her answer "Oh, hi Daddy. I didn't expect you home so soon. I'll be out in a minute. How was your day?" "It was fine, thanks. I'm gonna get out of this suit and into something comfortable. See you in a minute." I padded down the hall to the master bedroom, changed from my suit to slacks and a polo shirt. The computer monitor was in view from the closet as I hung up the suit. Oh, I bet Megan used it and forgot to turn it off, and reminded myself to do so on my way back to the kitchen. My thirst got the best of me, and I passed right by the computer walking down the hall directly toward the kitchen. The bathroom door was still open as I approached, but the sound of running water had stopped. I could smell the mix of steam and fragrant shampoo, still uncertain if Megan was still in there. Just as I reached the door, Megan walked out with a towel held loose against the front of her body, presuming that she was alone again. I could see her efforts to cover the rest of her body, and managed to do so with no success as she passed me in the hall. Surprisingly she stopped to give me a peck on the cheek, smiled and turned her bare backside toward me to take the last couple of steps towards her bedroom. "What a sight" I thought to myself as I continued down the hall to the kitchen, revisiting my thoughts of the morning. "No. Don't go there,' I scolded myself and continued to the cabinet to retrieve a glass. Still the recent vision lingered, the heave of her pert round breasts, long slender legs and perfectly toned butt. Ah, youth... A cold stiff drink was in order. I made a double and wandered off to the patio. Megan's pillow from this morning was back on the patio lounge. A bikini top and tanning oil were on the nearby table. "Hmm, too bad I wasn't home any earlier. My voyeuristic tendency caused thoughts to wander again, unsure of how I might have reacted to seeing Megan lounge topless and alone. No! But still a nice thought. "Hi daddy." Glad you're home. That shower felt so good…" her thoughts interrupted by the obvious implications of bikini top on the table. Megan was wearing a short summer cotton terry cloth robe with her wet hair combed and pulled back. "Oh, sorry I left my things out. I was sunning and went in to shower." "It's fine. You were alone. I understand the woman's need for no strap marks." "Thanks, Daddy. I thought you might freak out. I'm glad I got up when I did. That would be so embarrassing for you." "No. Really, it's fine" I reassured her trying to hide my thoughts of earlier. "So, tell me about your day." "I slept in and for the first time in a while had the whole house to myself. It almost felt strange to be here alone, kinda like sneaking around in a stranger's house, but it was nice." She laughed and then continued, "I caught up on my e-mails with friends and as you already figured out, spent some time sunning and didn't expect you home yet." "I'll be working from home for the rest of the week, so no surprises, glancing at the bikini top. Also, the car will be available if you need it." Nursing the last few sips from my drink, I asked "So, what do you want for dinner? We can do pizza since I was gone today and it's getting late." "Sounds good to me. That will give me a chance to dry my hair and throw on some clothes. I'll come in and help you with dinner" she offered, walking away toweling her long blonde hair. I got up and went to my room, remembering that I forgot to log off the computer. The screen saver was active. Just a few key strokes brought the monitor back to life. Megan's inbox was displayed, and not intending to be nosey, but just curious, saw an obvious and very suggestive subject box. One more click of the cursor brought the message up full screen. I'm no puritan, but the message was very graphic and sexual, and referenced an erotic posting and website for "Beauty" which just happened to be Megan's childhood nickname. As I read on, it was apparent that the sender was setting up a date with Megan and had less than honorable intentions. I read the remainder of the message, closed it and opened the inbox again. I was shocked to see the inbox window full of similar messages to her from other senders. "What the…" I wondered. "What is she into?" It was very obvious what she was doing. But how do I tell her what I saw, and how do I tell her without seeming that I was snooping? I continued with dinner preparations, such as they were. The pizza and simple green salad was no effort at all. I caught a few minutes of Fox News in the den until the timer announced that dinner was ready. Sliding the pizza from the oven heard "Mmmm, smells good" turned a saw Megan perched on her elbows at the counter behind me. She was wearing shorts and a modest white cotton tank top. Her blonde hair with fell loose curls contrasting against the glowing tan shoulders. My eyes were drawn to the swell at the top of her breasts and slight cleavage exaggerated by her forward position at the counter. "Daddy," her cheerful voice shocked me back from the most pleasant vision, "what kind of salad dressing do you want?" My eyes returned to her face, a little embarrassed by the lingering gaze. We Need To Talk Romantic (I hope), but no sex until after conclusion The story I ended up with is not the story I set out to write. Almost feel like I channeled this. I hope you enjoy. Jb7. WE HAVE TO TALK Chris Davis had just finished his two-mile run and was letting himself into his three bedroom ranch house when he heard the phone start to ring. He pulled the towel from around his neck and used it to wipe his face as he looked at the caller ID. He recognized the San Francisco area code, but was puzzled by it. Who in hell in SF would be calling him at this time of day. It was, what, 6 A.M. out there. He picked up the phone. "Chris here." "Hey, Chris." The velvet voice took him immediately back twenty plus years to the first time he had met her, and through five years of a tumultuous and passionate marriage before they split and eventually divorced. "It's Ellen. Long time, huh?" "And then some. How are you? What's up?" "I'm sorry to call at this ungodly hour, but Rick and I are leaving to get Michael from school this morning and need to leave soon. I got a call from Susan, your brother's wife. Did you know Tommy passed away a few months ago?" "I heard. I was on assignment in South America and got the message when I got home. Why did she call you?" "She was afraid when you didn't go to the funeral that you were angry about something. She asked me if I might be able to help her out with a place to stay for a few weeks. I guess the medical bills totally wiped out her resources. She had to sell the house and her car. I told her the best I could do would be to intercede with you, to see if there was anything you might be willing to do." Chris was assailed by a ton of conflicting emotions. Ignoring them, he replied, "Of course I'll help. After all, she is family. And if she has any of her own, they'd just try to bleed her drier than she is." "That's kind of what I remembered. She says she has until the first of the month before she has to be out of her house. That gives you a week to come up with something. Good luck, and Chris, be nice. She's been through hell with Tommy's illness and death. Stomach cancer isn't a pretty way to go." "No, it isn't. I promise. Have a good trip." "Thank you. Again, good luck. I remember how you two used to get along, or rather, not get along." "Hopefully we've both grown up a bit. Thanks for the call, I think." he laughed. He pawed through his desk, looking for his address book. He hoped he had the right phone number for them. Tom, younger than Chris by 15 months,had been in the Air Force when he got Sue pregnant at 19, and married her. When he got out, he had bounced around the country, trying and failing at several jobs and businesses before he lucked into a job as a TV weatherman, taking advantage of his Air Force training. As misfortune would have it, Sue had suffered a spontaneous abortion, at least that's what the note from Tom had said, about halfway through the pregnancy. Whatever had happened, it left her unable to conceive again. Chris couldn't help but wonder at the time if it might have had something to do with her lifestyle before she got married. His late parents had both been professionals. Father, a corporate lawyer; Mother, a professor in the engineering school at the university in the town where they all had grown up. Sue's family was grey collar, both parents working on the factory floor of the company for which the boys' father worked. Sue had earned a reputation early for liking flashy cars and questionable boyfriends. Chris never did understand how she and Tom met, or why he had married her. Upon reflection, Chris admitted to himself that last statement was a lie. He knew exactly why Tom had married her, and stayed married for nearly twenty years. Susan was one of the most attractive women he had ever seen. And worse, he had to admit it, she was just as nice as she was pretty. She was warm, generous, intelligent, witty, and fun-loving. His jealousy of his younger brother had, to some degree, been behind the failure of his own marriage, and to a greater degree, had led to the estrangement between the brothers. He had stayed away out of a sense of self-preservation. He found his phone list, and Tom's number. He dialed, and heard the phone ring. On the third ring, Sue answered. "Susie, this is Chris. Ellen called me. How are you?" He heard a short snorting laugh. "Been better. Have had whole years of better. What's up? It's been what, ten, fifteen years. And you couldn't even be bothered to come to Tom's funeral. So why the call?": The harsh, bitter tone in her voice made Chris pause. "Is this a mistake," he thought. There was going to be a mountain of issues to resolve before they would be able to tolerate each other. He took a deep breath. "Sue, I am truly sorry about missing the funeral. I was on assignment in the Amazon River country. I had been out of the country for six month's when I got home. As soon as I heard of Tommy passing, I wired you. If I had been in country, I would have been there." He heard her sob over the phone. "Are you still in Altamont, just outside of St. Louis?" "Yes, on Peach street. Why?" "I'll be there tomorrow. Ellen said you're out of options. I can offer you a place to crash for as long as you need one." The sobs softened and became more regular. She was crying. "No,no. you don't need to come out. Just arrange it so I can pick the ticket up at the airport, I can be there Wednesday evening. I've stored everything I wanted to keep. Everything else goes with the house." "You're sure?" "I'm sure, and thank you, Chris. I know how difficult this has to be for you. I'll try not to be any trouble." "Susie, it's no trouble. You're family." Her flight was over two hours late. He waited for her in the area at the opening of the concourse. With the new security regulations, non-passengers were no longer allowed to wait at the gates. He heard her flight announced as it touched down at nine o'clock. Several minutes later, a flood of people was walking toward the ramp exiting the concourse. He scanned the mob for her. He almost didn't see her because of the large sunglasses she wore. On the tall side of average, at five-eight, her dark red hair framing her face, she looked tired. He pushed his way to the head of the ramp and waited for her. When she saw him, she gave him a wan smile and let herself be guided through the crowd. Once they were in the open, he embraced her and held her tightly for a long moment before stepping back. He had felt the beginning of a surge in his groin, an effect she had always had on him, even during their most contentious periods. "Luggage?" he asked. "This," she answered, hoisting an overnight bag, "plus two more large bags. They won't be out for a bit. Can we get some coffee and maybe a bite. The layover in Chicago was a bit longer than they said it would be, and I haven't eaten since lunch." "Of course, no problem. How big a bite? There's a half decent restaurant here, or a zillion and one snack areas, and every fast food emporium you can conceive of." "Just coffee, and some pie. That's about all I've been able to eat lately. I haven't felt like cooking. After 20 years of..." a sob broke her voice. He put his arms around her, burying her face in his shoulder, noticing how nicely she fit there. She leaned back after a moment, and patted his chest. "I hope your shirt is waterproof. I've been doing a lot of that these past few months." "Actually, it's a living thing and needs water regularly, so whenever you feel the need, go right ahead." He led her out of the concourse area toward the food court. She laughed. "I had forgotten your sense of humor". She took his arm, and wrapping both of hers around it, hugged it to her side. "Maybe this won't be so bad." she told herself. Inside the food court, he got them coffee, and her a piece of banana cream pie. As he sat down, she gave him a fleeting smile. "You remembered, my favorite pie." She removed her sunglasses and briskly rubbed her face with the palms of her hands, then hugged herself and shivered. "Is it always this cold here? I thought it was summer everywhere." Chris studied her face as he answered. Not for the first time, he had the thought that this is how Audrey Hepburn would look with red hair and blue eyes. "It's upstate New York," he answered. "Even though we're less than ten miles from one of the Great Lakes, it's not as humid here as it is in the Midwest, so it feels chillier. Plus, they do have the air conditioning set to wring out every molecule of water it finds." She looked tired, haggard. Her normally bright blue eyes lacked their usual luster, and were surrounded by deep dark circles. "When was the last time you had a decent night's sleep?" "Hmm, define decent. Tom died six months ago next week, so, a few months before that. The last couple of months he needed a lot of assistance. I've been getting three to five hours at night, since he died, and then maybe an hour nap sometime during the day." She avoided looking at him, and dug into her pie. "Mm, this isn't bad. You aren't having anything?" "No, I'm working on keeping my weight down. When I travel, it's easier to fit into the smaller jets. There's a chicken casserole waiting at home. It'll just take a little bit to warm it." "When did you start to cook, I mean how long after the divorce?" "Sandwiches, eggs, burgers and hots, right away. Anything requiring more than two cans, a few months. Cooking from scratch, I don't know, a couple of years. Took me that long to appreciate it as a seduction tool. Man cooking for a woman he wants to bed, shortens the chase by a good six months." He blanched as he realized the implication of his last remarks. "I'm sorry, Sue, that was crass and totally out of place. I didn't mean to imply..." "What, that you want to get into my pants?" She looked him right in the eye, waiting for his response. He tried to avoid her gaze. He looked at the table, the floor, for the waitress, at his watch. The time stretched out. She waited with the fork poised in mid air. Finally she set it down. "Wow, I'm still not sure if that was yes or no, but it's obviously something you've considered, right?" Chris looked at her. He reached across the table for her hand, but she withdrew it. He sat back, and with a deep breath, began."Thought about it? Hell, Susie, there not a man in this airport capable of screwing who wouldn't jump at the chance to be with you when you're ready to start living again. And, yes, that includes me." He looked at her directly. "Do you want to change your mind about staying with me now? If you do, there's a housekeeping motel not far from here." "That won't be necessary. As long as I know what's expected of me." "What the hell is that supposed to mean? I don't expect anything from you!" The volume was a whisper, the emotion in his voice made it a shout. "Yours was more subtly put, but it was the same message I got from the bank loan officer." She was choking back the sobs. "He offered to let me stay in the house until it was sold if I'd come in and give him a...oral sex every day. Or Tom's boss, who offered me a 'trainee' position. I just had to service him and some of his buddies from time to time. They'd even pay for the motel. Sometimes, even Tommy. He'd withhold the money to run the household until we'd had sex. What else am I supposed to think, Chris? Hell, if your behavior for the past 20 years is any gauge, you don't even like me. Just what are you expecting?" Her tears were visible, ready to spill. He shook his head. "Expecting? Hell, I don't know. That you'd come, stay for a few weeks, or months. I hadn't thought beyond offering you a place to stay. Some respect for each other's personal space, some conversation, help keeping up the house, doing the cooking. Shit, just some company would be nice. But I never expected any kind of payment, certainly not sex." His voice was taut with the tension between them, He started to relax when he saw her smile, "But you wouldn't turn it down?" she asked, her eyes starting to twinkle with humor. "I may be noble, but I'm not stupid, dead, or impotent." he smiled, the tension lessening if not dissolving. "We should get out of here. It's a bit of a drive." "Where...?" "I own a hilltop about 40 miles south of the city. I let out most of 640 acres to a grape co-op which pays me a share as rent. Part of it is still wild woods, and then there's the house and pool." "You have a pool? Do you get to use it much?" "Wait until you see it." They had retrieved her luggage and were at his car, a Mercedes sports coupe. "Something must be paying well. The writing or the grapes?" "A bit of both, but right now most of my income comes from my winery holdings. There are four family run wineries, separate from the co-op, I helped finance. I offered them a choice for financing – a long term conventional mortgage or a percentage of the business, so I was just as much at risk as they were. Even with the sizeable percentage I wanted, it was better for them and the business to trade me a share. Through my travel contacts, they were able to gain access to some master winemakers, and now, seven to ten years after our first harvests, we are producing some of the best wines in the state." It was just past eleven when he turned off the two lane into a winding dirt road which led up a hill to a rambling three bedroom ranch style farm house. "I've put you in the west bedroom," he told her, "so the sun doesn't wake you in the morning. The windows are all screened, as are the sliding doors, so you can leave them open for fresh air. We don't have any wild critters bigger'n a 'possum, and they all tend to stay in the woods. And this is the time of year when the vines take care of themselves, so there shouldn't be any workmen anywhere close. The cleaning lady won't be in until Friday. "If I'm not around when you get up, make yourself at home. This is your home now, as long as you need or want to stay." "Thank you, Chris. I know I keep saying that. I can't tell you how relieved I was after you called. I had no idea what I was going to do. My own family wouldn't offer a glass of water to a thirsty neighbor. I called Ellen out of desperation, hoping for just a loan or even a cot. I didn't expect anything like this." She gave him a hug. As his arms went around her, he felt a surge in his loins. Apparently, so did she. She quickly pulled away, looking at him, an unreadable expression in her eyes, anger, disappointment, resignation, he couldn't tell. She dropped her eyes and turned away from him. "I'd like to shower and turn in, if that's okay with you." "Of course. Shower's right across the hall. Towels and supplies are in the linen closet right outside. I usually run in the morning for a bit, then I have to go into town for an hour or so. I should be back at lunch time. I'll leave my cell number on the kitchen table." As he left the room, he turned to look back at her. "Sue, I really am glad you're here, and that I am able to help. Anything you want or need, if it's not here, we'll find it somewhere. Sleep well." For the first two weeks, Susan didn't do much more than sleep. Over time, she grew noticeably less haggard. Her color improved, as did her appetite. She went from eating only pie to full meals by the middle of summer. As her energy and stamina improved, Chris introduced her to the farm. He showed her the vineyards, pointing out the differences in the kinds of grapes, and explained how they were blended to produce the different kinds of wines. She was fascinated when she saw the tiny grapes used for the sparkling wines. Two weeks after her arrival, he walked her through the woods, showing her the track he ran every morning he was home, even in the winter. As they were walking it, he suddenly stopped her. As they paused in the middle of the track, he raised his head to check the wind. "This way," he said, turning them around. About twenty-five yards back up the track, he turned to follow a path into the woods. "Shhh," he cautioned her. In a few more steps, they stepped into a clearing, surrounding a large pond. Across the pond she saw a number of deer, including a stag with an impressive rack of antlers. Chris's arm across her body kept her from advancing into the clearing any further. "They're gorgeous," she whispered. "I've never seen them like this–in the flesh, as it were." "This is only the second time I've seen them. I caught a glimpse last summer, but I thought they had moved on when I didn't see them any more." The sound of their voices, a slight shift in the wind, instinct, something spooked the stag and he bounded off, followed by the others. "This, by the way," he gestured, "is my swimming pool. This end, right off shore, is about six feet deep, increasing to ten in the center. The six foot depth is between those two boulders on the shore." He pointed to a pair of large boulders about fifteen yards apart, sitting at the water's edge. "The rest of the pool, a fairly shallow area out to ten feet or so, then there is a drop off to the deep bottom. It's about fifty, sixty yards across. Eighteen laps to make a mile. And if you look around, you'll see you can't be seen in here, so if you want to swim or sunbathe in the nude, feel free. Lots of times, I finish my run with a quick skinny dip. Then by the time I'm back to the house, I pretty much am dried off." "We'll have to rig up some sort of bell, so we don't walk in on each other at an embarrassing time." "Yeah, I suppose," he replied, a sound of disappointment in his voice. Her slap at his shoulder was more good fun than reproach. After dinner, one Thursday evening toward the end of the second month of her stay, she asked him, with a smile, "Do you remember that awful, awkwardness in the diner at the airport?" He looked at her, his face a mask of hurt, guilt, remorse and fear. "Sue, I..." "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause you any upset. I was just going to comment that I can fully appreciate now your comment about cooking being an effective seduction tool. Being waited on the way you've waited on me the past several weeks has been absolutely delicious. "It's enough to wipe out all those awful years of fighting. No, you don't need to say anything. God knows, I was just as spiteful as you were. Right now, though, I can't remember why. I really appreciate all you've done and would like to cook for you tomorrow. Is that okay?" "If you want. I was going to ask if you feel up to going out for dinner. I have a travel assignment starting Sunday and will be gone a week or so. Eating out before traveling is sort of a tradition with me. It means I don't have to come home to dirty dishes," he laughed. She smiled and nodded. "That'll be fun. Then I can practice my kitchen skills while you're gone and cook you a welcome home dinner." The next night found them at a steak house situated on the shore of one of the smaller Finger Lakes. On this night the restaurant was offering line dancing lessons, which Chris and Sue cheerfully joined. Four hours later they were homeward bound, Sue resting her head on Chris' shoulder as he drove. "That was fun. Do you think we might be able to do it again sometime?" "I'm sure we can. The only restrictions we have are what's legal and what we want, or don't want to do." As they pulled into the driveway, Sue straightened up. When the car came to a stop, she reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by Chris. He got out of the car and walked around to open her door. He took her hand and helped her out. She reached up to caress his cheek, and said softly, "Thank you for a lovely evening. I wish..."she stopped. "So, where are you off to tomorrow?" Her voice had gone from wistful to businesslike in a heartbeat. We Need To Talk Chris' heart sank. He, too, had wished. Matching her tone, he replied, "My manager called me yesterday. There's a relatively new travel card service pushing into the Northwest market, and they want some feedback on merchant responsiveness. It usually means several visits to the same merchant, using different cards or offering to pay with two or three to see which they prefer. It's normally a week long assignment, including travel going and coming." "Anything I can do to help you get ready? Or while you're gone?" As they walked into the house, his arm found its way around her waist. "No, I think I'm all set. One of the perks of these assignments is that I get to keep a lot of the stuff I have to buy, including personal supplies, and I usually average a new suit, or its equivalent in sportswear, every eight to ten weeks. Is there anything I can get for you?" She was pensive for several seconds. Shaking her head, she responded, "Just come home." Her face and voice were both full of the wistfulness he had heard outside. He called her daily, describing his experiences, asking about hers. She told him about the feeding station she had built out of scrap wood she found in the barn and the animals which had quickly found it. One night, it was after ten, local time, when he got back to his motel. Thinking it was too late (It would have been one AM on his hilltop), he went to bed without calling. The next night, when he did call, Sue was so anxious and upset he promised to call everyday, regardless how late he got in. When the assignment was extended twice, he shared his disappointment and frustration. By the time he started for home, he had been gone a month. As he walked down the concourse toward the exit, he thought it would be nice to take Sue along next time. At the exit, he saw her waiting at the top of the ramp, wearing tight boot cut jeans which showed off her hips and legs to perfection. She had borrowed one of his white shirts and had the tails tied under her nicely proportioned bosom, displaying her tanned toned abs. Her smile let him know he had been caught checking her out, and she didn't object. "Hey there, traveling man, need a ride?" "Actually I need something to tell me I'm not dead and gone to heaven. You look great! What have you been up to you haven't been telling me about?" "Just running and swimming. I should have had you get me a new swimsuit. The one I have is so big I swim right out of it when I dive in the pond, and I wind up skinny dipping." "And what's wrong with that?" he grinned. She responded with a smile and an elbow in his ribs. Back at the farmhouse, he dropped his bags in the living room. "God, it's good to be home. I missed you, even talking every day. It's just not the same." "I know. I missed you, too. It's funny how easy it is to get used to a routine, and to having someone around. But you're back, at last." She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She tilted her head back and reached up on tiptoe to give him a quick peck on the lips, but it lingered a bit longer than she planned. When they separated, Chris looked at her, a question in his eyes. Then he leaned down and captured her lips with his, in an open mouth tongue invading kiss, which she returned. As he pulled her close, into a full body hug, he felt himself grow erect and press into her. As she felt it, she pressed back into him. His hand moved up and rested against the side of her breast. When she felt herself open and dampen, she pulled away, her face red with passion and embarrassment. She looked at him. "I can't..." and ran from him, locking herself in her bedroom. He followed her, and knocked on the door. "Just let me alone, Chris, please." Dejected, he got his bag from the living room and went to his room to unpack. When that was done, he went to his office to catch up on his correspondence and start his reports. Some time later, he heard her leave her room and go to the kitchen. He followed her. "Sue?" She looked up, startled. "I was just going to put supper on to warm. I made a chicken fricassee. It won't take long to heat." "Sue!" "Don't, Chris. Please. As soon as I can find a job and a place to stay, I'll be leaving." "Susie, that's not necessary. There's no reason to leave." She shook her head, and lowered her eyes. "Oh, I don't know. I think this afternoon showed there is plenty of reason. Christ, look at me. It's not even a year since Tommy died, and the first man to show me some kindness and attention and I'm ready to screw him to the floor." She put the chicken in the oven and turned it on, not looking at him. " A few months ago, we could barely speak civilly to each other. I was afraid to call you on the phone for fear we'd end up fighting. And suddenly, I want to make love to you so bad I can smell it." She looked at him. "If you didn't like me before, what must you think of me now? And why should I care?" She bowed her head and shook it. "I'm so freakin' mixed up" Chris gave a short laugh. "Maybe this will help. Susan Davis, I'm in love with you. I have been in love with you for twenty years. I was jealous of my brother, and resented him all to hell when he ran you down, like he was always doing. There were so many times I just wanted to grab you and run away.... "When she left me, Ellen didn't know who, but she knew there was someone else. She couldn't understand my attitude toward you. For me it was simple, being nasty was the only way to protect myself, and you and Tommy, from being hurt by letting my true feelings show. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you're here, to be able to ..." His voice started to choke. "I don't want you to leave. I'll honor any boundaries you want to establish. But it's your choice. Whatever you choose, I'll help you anyway I can. Just let me know how." She nodded, dumbfounded. His statement came as a total surprise. In spite of his protestations, she had viewed his behavior since she had arrived through the filter of his statement at the airport. And it wasn't just him. It had been a fact of her life since she entered puberty. His declaration did help to explain some stories she had heard over the years. Like the time he had stopped Tommy from hitting her while in a drunken rage. And the report from her sister about Chris reading Tommy the riot act when he had reduced her to tears with his insults about her family. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she walked over to her brother. As he started to reach for her, she brushed his arms aside and beat her clenched fists softly againsst his chest. "Why?....why?.....you fool, you sweet wonderful fool," She left the kitchen and walked to her room. Chris turned off the oven, put the fricasee in the fridge, cleaned up the kitchen and made himself a sandwich. He watched TV for a bit, hoping she would come out and join him. He puzzled on her response, wondering what it meant. After the news, heart heavy, fearing she would decide to leave, he made his way along the hall. He paused by her door. There was no light under the door, and no sound from the room. She must have fallen asleep. He hoped he could. He showered and toweled away the wetness. Then, as usual, crawled into bed, nude. He switched off his bedside lamp and rolled onto his side into his sleeping position. He thought he heard the door open. When he reached to turn on the light, he felt a weight on the bed, the covers lift and settle, then a warm, nude body cuddle up to his. "We need to talk," she said. We Need to Talk! She walked into the family room and said "We need to talk!" I thought "It's finally over. It was about time. If she did not bring it up I would." My plan had been to address the issue this coming weekend, however this would work. I said "OK, go ahead." My wife of 9 years simply said "I am divorcing you." She was looking at my face to see how I was going to react to this. I said "OK, I will be out by the end of the weekend." I got up and walked out of the family room and went into the garage too get the old set of luggage. I am thinking this would be a cake walk. I returned to the master bedroom and started packing the closet into the luggage. The next thing i know she was standing in the doorway, looking at me with a perplexed look on her face and said "Are you going to miss me? Don't you want to know why?" What the fuck is it with women; I was giving her what she wanted, with absolutely no hassle involved. Yet she was going to beat a dead horse. I just need 2 more hours of packing and I would have this behind me with no fuss, no muss. I had promised myself that I was not going to get into it with her. I continued to keep on packing, not answering her, maybe I could make it out of here yet. The next thing I know, she dived into bitch 101. She starts yelling at me and said" I am talking too you! , you better answer me!" She had those hands on her hips look that all men know. OK, yes I was delusional; nothing was ever easy with her. Why should I expect this to be any different? I started to lose it, and said "I am going to miss the pity fucks that I get from you every 3 or 4 weeks whether I need it or not, I am going to miss my yearly minute blowjob on my birthday, I am going to miss my wife sleeping on the opposite side of the bed away from me, I am going to miss never having your arms wrapped around me." I figured I was on a roll and reigned myself in or we would be here for hours and the end result would be the same. I already knew why. I had known for the last 3 years that she was a lying cheating bitch, and had a steady boyfriend from her collage years. When I had suspected, I engaged a P.I. to verify that she was cheating. His report gave me all the details on the motherfucker. I knew all about him, where he lived, how much he made a year, outstanding debts, and criminal record. Yea he was one of the bad boys. Maybe a little background on why I had waited 3 years to get to this point. The day I received the P.I.'s report I was feeling really down, my good friend Bob asked what was wrong? Well the fact that we were in our favorite watering hole, may have some bearing on the fact that I opened up to him and spilled my guts. He listened to me to wind down, and asked how much I had in my getaway fund. I told him I did not have a getaway fund. He looked at me and shook his head. He told me I needed to get one before I pulled the trigger. I said "How the hell do I do that, my check is direct deposited?" Bob had a construction business on the side and had a large backlog of medium jobs that needed to get done. Bob, said "You come to work for me 3 hours a day after your normal hours, Monday thru Thursday, Friday no work, and Saturday 8 Hours. I will pay you $10/hour on paper and we will split any leftover 50/50, a lot of what I get is in cash anyway. Think of it as a retirement account, the more you put in it the more you can take out." So that's what we did. Back to the bitch, she said "You are never home, you are always working, and why don't you want to know why I am leaving you?" A flash of insight, and note to self, just because a bitch has firm "C" tits and ass made for fucking, and would rate a solid 8 on the scale of 1 to 10, does not mean she has a personality to go with it. I know my cock would not agree with me; however he is looking for short term relationships. "I am always working because you are always spending! Do you realize that we hardly have any money saved up for the unexpected shit that happens? Every time we get some saved, you go spend it on something we don't need or you already have 5 or 6 of." We have had this conversation many times before. "As far as why you are leaving is concerned, you want be with your fuck buddy, you have been cheating on me with for over 3 years. So now just leave me the fuck alone and get out of here!" Her mouth dropped open and her eyes got real big, as she realized I knew the about her and her fuck buddy. That slowed her down and she got a sheepish look on her face. She turned and left me to my packing. Two hours later I was finished in the bedroom and office. The only thing left was the garage; however 6 months ago I had completely reorganized everything in the garage using those plastic tubs from Wal-Mart. I had over 40 tubs with everything inside, inventoried outside on the end. I packed my car and went to a motel for a week. I needed time to look for someplace to live while the divorce was going down. The bitch said I could stay at the house; however I was so done with her cheating ass, I could not stand to talk to her anymore. That week end, my buds brought their trucks and in less than 45 minutes I was history. The bitch was not home so I left the keys to the house, the remote, and a proposed asset split on the kitchen counter. In addition I left her a copy of the P.I.'s report. The divorce proceeded along and she asked for support for 3 years. I told my attorney that she had a collage degree in business, and I wasn't going to pay her squat. Well squat turned out to be 12 months of support to get her on her feet. I felt like saying she could get a job on her back anytime. Squat also turned out to be 12 months of house payments. I wanted to put the house on the market and sell it and get out from under the payments. After 6 months I gave her a Quit Claim Deed to the house. She gave me a complete release from any additional liability and ending the support and house payments. The house was refinanced into her name only. She had applied for a job and was hired into a big company. Back up 3 years..., Bob was a very good business man and at the end of the first month, he said we were going to the big city to pick up some supplies. He stopped at the supply house and he paid the supplier in cash, lots of it. Next we went to a Coin store and bought $50,000.00 in gold coins and he gave me half, my mouth dropped open and I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I thought he was nuts! He smiled and said that we were making premium Master craftsman wages with per diem and with overtime and the few Sundays we worked were at double-time. Well I thought, we did everything after normal work hours and we had to leave the place spotless when we left every night. So I was good with that. I know some of you are a little skeptical, so I will disclose too you what type of business we are in. We are in the panic room and home vault business. The niche we have was, we went in after the original construction was complete, to do our job. The original plans would not show any indication of a security space. The owners wanted no traces of any kind as to what the upgrade had accomplished. So they tended to pay in cash. We just looked like regular workman staying late to get a job done. Next Bob took us to a business specializing in secured storage vaults for valuables and he told me to open an account and stash the coins in the vault. Bob also put me on his account as a POD signature (Pay on Death). I likewise did that with him. I paid for my vault on a yearly basis and am always a year ahead. For the next 3 years we continued with our monthly program and that's when I decided to end this sham marriage. I have over 38 pounds of gold coins in my vault. I don't know how much Bob has, but I do know I had to sign 2 cards for him when we set up my account. Now that the bitch is gone, I have decided to always keep the Vault in place in case my cock starts thinking for me again. I got "Down sized" from my day job, so I went to work for Bob fulltime. Bob made some adjustments to my pay structure, now we are getting a lot more work accomplished and more rewords. The most unusual thing that happened was after the divorce was final, four of the bitches "Best Friends" made it be known, they were available for some recreational fucking. For the next 18 months I fucked anything that was available which turned out to be quite a lot actually, including the BFF's. When I moved out of the motel, it was into a room for rent with a nice older couple in their beautiful home. After the divorce was final, I went looking for a bigger place to buy. After much searching I settled for 10 acres on a lake about 30 minutes from town. The cabin was really neglected, so I had it demolished and put up a nice 2000 sq/ft prefab and a steel shop and garage area. I enjoyed the solitude and fishing on the lake. Actually the boat was a gift from Bob, the first time he came up to the lake, he asked where my boat was. When I told him I would get one later, he just shook his head. He made a beer run to the country store and I thought he was gone a long time. When he returned he had a boat on the back of his SUV. He said "Now you have a boat, you can't live on a lake without a boat for Christ's sake!" He had seen it sitting in front of a house with a for sale sign on it, so he bought it. Bob also would come up early on Sunday mornings and take the boat out fishing. I would still be sleeping and he and the boat would be gone. I teased him about it one day and he said "If you weren't such a pussy and got up at a descent hour you could be on the boat too." Then one day while I was out fishing, a boat trolled by me with a MILF in it. She smiled and waved and kept on going. The next time I saw her she stopped and asked if I was having any luck. She held up a stringer with 2 barely legal fish. I pulled up a stringer with (5) 18 inchers on it. She leaned over to get a better look and in the process she gave me a wonderful down blouse view of her small tits with large puffy nipples, you guessed it she did not have a bra on. She busted me, and with a smile she asked "See something you like?" I turned red, and she says I blushed, I do know, it suddenly got very hot on the lake. I looked her in the eye and said "I like everything I see." She lifted the blouse over her head and said "Take a good look, it's been a long time since anybody wanted to look at these puppies." she pulled her chest up and pointed them at my face. Now my cock decided that fishing time was over, and started to deprive my brain of blood. She would not be my normal choice for a fling. I liked them taller and slimmer with bigger boobs. I was grinning like a geek retard, and feeling light headed as all the blood rushed to my cock. My cock was totally ignoring my intellectual preferences about taller and slimmer with bigger boobs. She said "Follow me." And off we went across the lake to a big house with servant's quarters detached from the main residence. That's when I realized that she had not put her blouse on after taking it off. I looked over to her boat, as we raced across the lake and her tits were bouncing every which way and she was grinning, her hair was flying and it looked like she was really enjoying herself. We pulled up to the dock and tied up and she said "I am house- sitting, for the owners while they are on vacation." The house was opulent and looked really expensive. We went to the servant's quarters. She grabbed my hand and teased my arm with her breasts. She looked into my eyes and kissed me as we entered. Her tongue checking out my tonsils, at least it seemed that way. The 2 bedroom servant's quarters were way more elegant than my place. The place was stocked with every kind of drink you could imagine, frig was stuffed with food. I thought "So this was how the other half lives. " She grabbed my hand and pulled me too the bedroom, I followed along like some mutant puppy. My cock was making all the decisions. I know he could sense that she was in the heat, and he was a heat seeking missile. I pushed her back on the edge of the bed, and pushed her pants and panties to her feet, I pulled them off. I pushed my face in her pussy as I grabbed the cheeks of her ass, for leverage. My tongue lapped at her essence as I lifted her legs over my shoulders. She was starting to sound like a fuck track on a porno movie, as I licked, nuzzled, blew, and hummed on her pussy. When I knew she was about to cum, I attacked her clit with equal vigor. She was howling like a banshee, and trying to pull my head up into her pussy. I became a marked man when she squirted her cum all over my face. That had never happened to me before. I backed off because I knew her clit would very sensitive. I eased 2 fingers into her pussy and went looking for her "G" spot. Yup it was right where it was suppose to be. As I started slowly stroking the spot and lightly mouthing her clit she was grabbing my head and babbling about incomprehensible Oh- God stuff. Her ass was rolling around like she was dry fucking the air. My cock demanded equal time and was negotiating with my asshole to shut down all primary functions if he was not immediately appeased. I started kissing my way up her body slowly. Well that was not fast enough for her or my cock. She pulled me up to her face as my cock found shelter in a warm dark tight place. She proceeded to lick her cum off my face and inside my mouth. If I was looking for verbal approval, she satisfied that requirement with a string of "Yes's," hissed out many times. There is nothing like, positively knowing that you are pleasuring your partner. Her body and mind were in sync and she was not bashful about showing me she was very happy about it. My cock was sliding in and out of her warm tight pussy consistent with her arousal, as she got more vocal I increased the pace. My cock was giving signals for the swimmers to abandon ship, as her pussy clamped down on my cock. I saw stars as my climax empted into her pussy. I started to roll off her as we came back to the world of the living, she held me tight and in place. Time seemed to stand still. As blood rushed back into my brain I had a terrible thought. I had not asked about protection, or pregnancy! Some mature adult I was. Well I knew it was going to be a mood killer, but it had to be done. That's when I realized I did not even know her name! Well fuck me; see what the lack of blood to the brain can do to you. I looked into her eyes a said "I apologize for not asking this before, are you on birth control, and are you checked regularly for diseases? And last but not least what's your name? ". Her eyes got really wide, her mouth dropped open, and she made a sound between a moan and a groan. She bounced out of bed, went over to her purse and opened her wallet, returning with a card from the lab that was 1 month old. She was good to go! I showed her my card and smiled. She said "My name is Carol and I am on birth control pills." She said "This was totally irresponsible! I am as much to blame as you. "Then she started too smile, I smiled right along with her. I told her "You are right! My name is Mike; there was no excuse for our behavior." Sort of sounded like the open lines of the AAA meetings. Once our concerns were satisfied, everything mellowed out. We continued to see each other on a continuing basis. She had captured my heart. She was so loving and delightful to be around. She was the polar opposite of the bitch. She loved to go fishing. She was riding me one night and looked into my eyes and said "Teach me your fishing secrets!" I always was more successful at fishing than her. "Are you trying to fuck me out of my fishing secrets?" I said as I smiled. "Oh you bet big boy." She oozed. Her pussy griped down on my cock with a firm grip. As I tried to keep from coming I was lost in her world. We had been together for about 14 months at that point. I said "There is a price for that information." She said "What's the price stud." she moaned, from deep in her body. I replied "You have to come and live with me, and let me make an honest woman of you." Her eyes filled with tears and she said "We need to talk." I thought "Oh fuck me, here we go again!"I started hyperventilating. I was thinking the worst. Tears started running down my face. I started to moan. The next thing I know I was slapped hard across the face and it broke my train of thought. I started babbling and telling her "I love you, Please don't leave me, I need you so much. You complete me." She said "Please forgive me, I went about this all wrong."She moved my head to her puffy nipple and encouraged me to suck, as she ran her fingers thru my hair and cooed to me "It's going to be alright." She said that over and over again, as she rocked me in her arms and rubbed my back. When I finally calmed down, she kept a hold of me and said "I have not been completely honest with you." She felt me tighten up and she tightened her grip on me. "Please let me finish before you go off the deep end." Her actions did not match her words which confused me more. I finally lay quite in her arms. She said "I am not the caretaker of this property; I own all of this free and clear. I have a substantial monthly income from investments. I received all of this from my cheating ex-husband. He still walked away with, over 40 million in cash. This was a community property state, she had too be loaded. My emotions were shot, talk about a roller coaster ride. Talk about being rode hard and put away wet that was me. I didn't know whether to shit or draw small stores. I finally asked "Is that it? Or is there more?" It would be best to get it all out so I would know what I was dealing with. "Nope that's it, think about it tonight and let me know if the offer is still good tomorrow. I wanted to know that you wanted me, not just my money." We went to sleep and just snuggled all night. In the morning I went out on the deck and stared at the lake and knew I could not live without ether one of them. I was not going to say those words "We need to talk!" again ever if I could get around it. She came out with some breakfast and we enjoyed the morning. About 11:00 AM I asked if she had some time for me. She said "Yes, go ahead" "First let me apologize for over- reacting yesterday, I associate whose words with negative occurrences in my life, and I need to suck it up a bit. Next the offer is still good with one proviso. The proviso is that you have your lawyer draw up a pre-nup that states we each retain as sole and separate property, that which is ours prior to our wedding. If you agree to that then let's go get you a ring" The smile that broke out on her face, was competing with the sun. She flung herself in my lap and whispered in my ear, "You have some homework to do before we go shopping." The homework took two days to get done before we went shopping, but we were in no rush. Bob was my best man. I tried to give him my lake house, he said "Just keep it," he would use it as he saw fit. I still work for Bob but just 30 hours a week. Every time I go by the lake house he has something under construction. It has a new dock, outdoor spa, patio area with built in frig, BBQ, and a pizza oven. He has 3 boats tied up at the dock. Carol and I seem to love each other more and more each day, I just cannot get enough of her. I saw the bitch's boyfriend in the paper the other day and he will be out circulation for 15 to 25 years. I still think she is a bitch, however after seeing the difference between her and Carol, I thank her getting out of my life. What happened to in my getaway fund you ask? It's still in tack and being added to all the time. Bob made me a convert and I will never be in that position again. We Need to Talk! I must confess also, I may have forgotten to show Carol some of my fishing secrets. (Smile) As far as taller and slimmer with bigger boobs is concerned, nothing can replace the feeling of complete satisfaction knowing that your partner has totally given herself to you and you gave yourself to her. We Need To Talk "I have to go pee," she said apologetically. "I'll go with you," I said, making to rise. She made a sound of startled horror. "No!" she almost squealed. I accompanied her anyway, Bonnie protesting every step of the way. She had on something, though what I don't remember. I have no memory of seeing her nude, or having made love to her. I had been searching for my sister's lost youngster, Brad, gone missing at a family outing at Carlton Regional Park. We'd found him hiding in the corner of a shelter and packed him off to his mom and dad via my wife. To my knowledge, Bonnie hadn't been around through that point. Where she came from, or how we ended up in bed is a mystery. "Oh, sorry," Bonnie muttered apologetically. She'd pushed open the bathroom door and surprised a woman hulking in the darkness. "Matty?" she asked, closing the door again. I knew Matty, though neither Bonnie nor I realized that she was Bonnie's mother in the dream. Dreams are strange that wasy. We retreated to the bedroom and Bonnie quickly dressed, both of us aware the danger we were in of discovery. My wife should be home any minute now, I knew, and Matty was a snoopy somebody, sure to pursue the mystery of Bonnie and her Uncle Jack. "Help me with this," Bonnie pleaded. She was in jeans and a button down cotton shirt. She had backed to me with her shirt pulled up in the back. I eyed the waistband of her pink panties, peeking out the top of her blue jeans. I misinterpreted her plea and asked if she wanted the back of her jeans yanked up to cover her panties. "No!" she complained in exasperation. "My bra!" Shaking the bottom of her shirt brought the ends of her bra straps to my attention. "Oh," I said stupidly. The dimples in her lower back just above the top of her panties caused distraction, and I wanted to remove her clothing, not help her into it again. Instead, I grabbed the loose bra straps and used them to raise the rear of her shirt up to her shoulder blades, exposing her bare back. "Uncle Jack!" she hissed, twisting and trying to reclaim her modesty. "I want to see. I haven't seen them yet, Bonnie." Instead of spinning her around, I cupped her small but perfectly formed breasts; hers nipples, erect and hard as fingertips, tickled my palms. She squirmed and made a protesting mewling sound, which made me laugh. I nuzzled the back of her neck, thought momentarily about sliding my hand down the front of her jeans, but she put a stop to that idea by rotating to face me. Keeping her arms up and out of the way, I bent and kissed each of her pea-sized nipples. "Uncle Jack! No!" she protested, shivering. We both sensed the presence of Matty outside the bedroom door. We were moments away from discovery. The door behind me began to push open, and then I awoke. * * * "Well, fuck!" I muttered disgustedly. It was a dream, nothing more. Arousal had me hard as a railroad spike, but luckily, I hadn't come. I was close to it, but waking prematurely had spiked my ejaculation, saving me the chagrin of having to clean up, and the embarrassment of explaining why to my wife. She remained asleep, breathing softly through her open mouth. Nothing worse than having a wet dream right next to your wife. I waited out my erection and went into the bathroom to go pee. Janice stirred, but only shouldered the covers closer to her jaw, murmuring unintelligibly. Standing at the toilet, I savored the extent of the dream still captured in memory. Five minutes after waking, the best I could do was the roughly page worth of details noted above. Snippets resurfaced here and there over the next few hours, such as holding a naked Bonnie against me, her bare back and rear end warm against my chest and crotch, while I urged her to take me in hand and stroke me between her spread thighs. In the dream, my cock was quite a bit thicker and longer than in reality. In the end, it was me that took the monster in hand and did the dead. Other, less clear and pertinent details of the earlier dream are not worth recalling. I fantasized over Bonnie the next couple of days and then let it go. A week later, I unexpectedly found her at thes house, visiting along with her new boyfriend, whose name is Ted. "Bonnie!" my wife exclaimed, grabbing her for a big hug. We'd commented on the cream colored Toyota Highlander in the driveway, but hadn't connected it with Bonnie. My recollection was that she drove a KIA Sedona; it turned out she'd traded it in for the Highlander just last week. Bonnie introduced us all around. I shook hands with Ted whom I immediately disliked. Tall and blonde and preppy and full of himself, his handshake was of the "crush the opponent" variety. I refused the bait, letting him wring my grip to his heart's content. He made a point of not letting go for three or four seconds beyond what decorum allowed. I ignored the glint in his eye and the upturned corner of his mouth, giving my attention to Bonnie. Bonnie is my favorite niece. I get along better with Bonnie than most other relations of my wife, whose family is generally pretty lame, or pretty obnoxious. I've never shown any sexual interest in Bonnie, nor she in myself. Because of the dream, I kept both my expression and my interest neutral. I wanted to scrutinize every inch of her, though. Down boy, I thought. To my surprise, Bonnie had difficulty meeting my eyes, and was standoffish and anxious, to the extent she reddened slightly and the hug she gave me was perfunctory, at best. What's that about? I thought. The rest of the visit was just as uncomfortable. Two nights later, I dreamed of her again. "Uncle Jack?" she said. "Is this yours?" I looked at the Sports section in her hand. I ignore that section of the paper completely, being totally uninterested in any team sports. Regardless, I cocked my head to see the picture on the front page: a bunch of Redskins in burgundy and gold caught in intense conflict with the other team. I shook my head. "You like the Redskins?" I asked. "I love the Redskins," she admitted. "I don't like them, though," she said, tapping the folded paper with a stubby-nailed fingertip. I looked more closely at the picture. "The Vikings?" I inquired. Bonnie shook her head, pointing out the green and white uniforms of the Philadelphia Eagles. I vaguely remembered the Vikings wearing purple and white. "OK," I said, eyeing the disturbingly plain, dark gray corduroy bib overalls she wore over a flannel shirt. With her mussed hair, shapeless form, dearth of make-up, and masculine posture, she could easily be a boy. Or a tomboy, I thought, distractedly. Her breasts were undetectable under the bib overalls. "I'd like to go the next time they play at home," she said. "Would you take me, Uncle Jack?" I shook my head. "Not to the Stadium/Armory." I hated the parking situation downtown, especially the half-collapsed underground garage they kept putting off repairing, and the un-navigable maze of railroad tracks surrounding the complex. Some fool, probably to save money, had located the stadium dead-smack in the middle of the Washington Rail Yard. FedEx Field did not exist in my dream. She scratched her left underarm. "How about if I drive? Would you take me then?" I was about to answer that might be better idea than me driving, when my wife elbowed me out of sleep. "What?" I complained. "You were talking in your sleep again," she muttered irritably. "What did I say?" "I don't know," she grouched. "Something about football tickets." She got up reluctantly to go pee. "Who were you arguing with, anyway?" I told her the truth. She grumbled something about late-night eating of leftover pizza, stumbled around the foot of the bed and made for the bathroom. She didn't broach the subject of sex-dreams, but why should she? It was an argument she had woken me up from. There was more to this dream, just like there was more to the family outing dream, but everything other than what I described above was lost. I believe Bonnie had been careless in buttoning the top of her flannel shirt and allowed me tantalizing glimpses of her chest, but that might be wishful thinking. I do remember concentrating unusual attention on the seductive rise of her neck from the confines of her shirt collar though, and that's not wishful thinking, not in the least. Bonnie has the most seductively long, slender and oh-so kissable neck in the world. I drifted off to sleep fantasizing about kissing that exquisite neck and removing her bib overalls. * * * A month went by with no dreams and no sight of Bonnie. She'd slipped almost entirely from my thoughts by then--during the daylight hours, at least--and the few times I dwelled upon her at night, propriety kept the perusing as vanilla as a Nabisco cookie. It had been two or three days since I'd thought of her at all. Then I awoke with a start at 3:15 AM Saturday morning, grabbing my cock to keep it from spewing liquid fire into my shorts. Jesus Christ, I thought frantically. I'd been in a mountain cabin way out in the middle of nowhere. There was a snowstorm raging, and Bonnie was down on her hands and knees on the rough timber flooring (not planks, but the same logs as made up the cabin walls), scraping mud from between the boughs with a carpenter's wide-blade drywall knife. She was cursing and frustrated and on the verge of hopelessness. No matter how much she scraped up with the blade, more mud oozed up to take its place. Bizarre as that scenario is, imagine Bonnie on her hands and knees wearing nothing but a kitchen apron. "Bonnie!" I complained in the dream. "It's useless!" "Then get down here and help me!" she cried. She was frantic now; the three galvanized steel pails she'd balanced precariously before her on the logs overflowing with mud. Every trowel-full sent equal amounts over the rim and down the caked sides. Drop-jawed, I stared in amazement at the little pink ring of her asshole, and the wonderful offering of her moist, warmly pink and inviting slit below. My breathing was labored and my heart beat erratically. Unzipping my pants in preparation of taking her there on her hands and knees, in her apron, impaling her anally with my aching muscle, forced me awake, gasping and ready to come. Beside me, Janice moaned and bunched the covers more tightly to her chin. She shifted, drawing up her knees and then crossing one leg over the other. I watched her, breath clenched in my throat and cock clenched in my fist. Slowly the need to ejaculate slipped away. After a minute I slid carefully from bed and tiptoed to the toilet to relieve myself. I waited for my aching prostate to relax and release the voluminous contents of my bladder, which sounded loud as a jet engine on impact. I had to wonder: Why suddenly, was Bonnie in my head like this? I'd never had a desire for her; no more than the usual male stirrings generated by a pretty young girl. I'd watched her grow from a 12-year-old old into beautiful young womanhood; she might as well have been blood. I considered her blood. Powerful feelings of kinship overpowered any of lust, so what was she doing naked in my dreams offering her exquisite asshole and luscious sexual aperture for fucking? "Fuck," I muttered bitterly. "You got to stop this shit, Jack. This is totally unacceptable behavior." I returned to bed and dreamed of her again. * * * The following Thursday, Thanksgiving, the entire family descended on Eva and Carl's house for turkey and football. Minnesota played Detroit and battled fiercely right down to the final second of the game. Minnesota, 7-1 entering the match-up, crawled off the field with their 8th victory, pulling it out with a last second field goal, the score 51 to 48. An incredible, adrenalinized game. Everyone picked a favorite, and though no one cared squat about either team, each of us rooted for our pick ferociously. Even Bonnie, usually cold as packaged cold cuts about football, got swept up in the excitement and did her share of shouting, gesticulating and threatening the obstinate, wide-screen TV. She practically gnawed a thumbnail into extinction during the final minutes as Minnesota slogged their way down the muddy field to score. "Fuck!" she hissed bitterly as the place kicker lofted the ball cleanly over the goalpost into the net, directly between the uprights. The house was raucous as I'd ever seen it, as raucous as Metropolitan Stadium in Bloomington, Minnesota. "Fuck! Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!" she muttered fiercely. Everyone around her laughed and or chastised her over the language. Bonnie smiled tightly and wagged her head side to side, arms crossed tight as steel bands over her chest. She looked ready to detonate. Then she cut her eyes toward me and her arms tightened and her shoulders hunched forward into a U. Already blazing with indignation and anger, her cheeks bloomed the color of roses. We ate then. Bonnie sat opposite me next to her boyfriend, Lunk-head, as I'd come to call him, and her usual incessant chatter was throttled to an occasional two or three word response, an occasional request to pass a bowl of this, or a plate of that, or an infrequent comment about the subject currently under discussion. Not once did she catch and hold my eye. I was becoming aggravated. "What's going on, Bonnie?" I whispered. She was at the sink, Eva's apron wrapped tightly around her protecting her clothes (not the apron from the dream, though I didn't miss the significance of the coincidence ), and I didn't miss her wince and near-recoil away from me when I spoke. She tried to meet my eyes, but couldn't. "What do you mean?" Her voice was tight and an octave too high. "You're avoiding me like the plague. Worse than you did last time I saw you here. What's the matter with you?" "Nothing," she lied badly. If not for the wet dishes in her hands, I believe she would have wrapped herself protectively in her arms and hunched against my presence, like a salt pillar. I wanted to grab her arm and shake her until she faced me, a shockingly foreign emotional response. Instead, I walked away and left her to the dishes. * * * Three weeks later, I received a surprise phone call. "Uncle Jack?" "Bonnie?" I said, startled. "We need to talk." I said okay, and agreed to meet her at a McDonald's mid-way between her place and ours. Janice was away for the weekend, and Bonnie knew this from reading her Facebook postings, I later discovered I drove the 22 miles from Clinton in consternation; she refused to discuss things over the phone. "Did you want something to eat?" I asked. She wore an expensive black leather jacket over a zippered peach sweater over black leggings and boots with fur overflowing the top. At 22, a college graduate with a BA in computer sciences, Bonnie was already making more than either Janice or I, an RN, and a small business owner. Bonnie was both brilliant, and determined, a Class 1 overachiever, a Type A personality. Right now she looked more like an overdressed, troubled teenager. She shook her head. "Coffee?" I suggested. She gazed pessimistically at the menu selection and sighed. McDonald's will never be a true menace to Starbucks. Her normally impeccable hairdo was surprisingly disobedient today, I noticed, reminding me of her disheveled mop in the Redskins dream. Though disturbing, I liked the look. "A caramel frappe?" she ventured. "Caramel frappe, it is." While she grabbed us a table in the back, as far from the windows as possible, I went to the counter. Outside, the lowering overcast made it look more like 4 o'clock in the afternoon than just before noon. It was barely in the 40's with a northwest wind gusting into the 20's. Not a day to wash the car. I returned to the table with her frappe and a medium size coffee for myself. I prefer 7-11's over anybody's. "I was surprised to hear from you," I said. She unwrapped her straw and slid it through the top of the clear domed lid. I had to admit the frappe looked enticing. I prefer my coffee steaming hot though, unadulterated, and carefully folded back the tab and blew on the surface through the dime-sized hole. Bonnie sipped her concoction and frowned. "Maybe we should have met somewhere else," I suggested. She shrugged. At the head of the aisle a trio of teenagers stopped to discuss lunch options. They not so clandestinely checked Bonnie out as they did. I ignored them as best I could because Bonnie always draws looks, even though her looks are more suggestive of beauty than beautiful in reality. Her features are a bit too sharp, the planes of her face too odd-angled. No one can beat her eyes though, and right now, they were uncomfortably trying to meet mine. "Tell me what's wrong, Bonnie." "I keep dreaming about you, Uncle Jack." I blinked, startled. "Dreaming...about me?" She nodded, sipping her drink. "Every single night. Sometimes three or four times a night." She looked down at the table. "It's become very stressful for me, Uncle Jack." Numb with shock, I nodded. "The worst of it is..." Her face became a mottled, frustrated red. She shook her head in denial. I cleared my throat. "How long has this been going on?" Her answer of two months made me shudder. I too, had been dreaming of her every night lately. "I can't..." She made a choking, coughing sound, put a hand to her mouth and looked away. "I don't know what's going on with me. These dreams are so real-not real, you know, but intense. I forget almost everything afterward, but it's still there, bits and pieces and fragments. Enough to make me very uncomfortable in my own skin." Her face couldn't be more red. I thought: There's no way you can tell her about the dreams you're having. She'll see that as ill-conceived bullshit, an attempt to diminish her own suffering by hemming in on it, making it about yourself instead of her. Not to mention how ridiculous a claim like that would sound. I didn't believe it myself. "If I ever came across as attracted to you, did anything to generate or encourage these dreams, Bonnie, I'm sorry. I never intentionally-" She put up a hand to stop me. I took another sip of my coffee, waited patiently. What a lie that is. "What do you want to do?" I asked finally. In a very tight, trembling voice she told me. * * * She called at 11:30 the next morning. I stared at the cell phone in my hand, trembling with anxiety--and a good lick of fear. I had never cheated on Janice before. "Hi, Bonnie," I answered. She was crying. We arranged to meet at Starbucks this time. It was a mile closer to Bonnie's house and we met there at 1 o'clock. If Bonnie had been out of sorts the day before, she looked moderately stunned today. Shell-shocked is a better word. Her eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. The red of her nose had nothing to do with the cold, and she only shook her head at me as I closed her car door and offered a hug. I followed her in, not even allowed to be gentlemanly with the front door. She again chose the most secluded table and sat down, awkwardly extracting herself from her coat after sitting. It was the same leather coat she'd worn yesterday. Wordlessly, I shrugged off my own coat and hung it over the back of my chair. "What would you like?" I asked. Her voice was low and bitter. "For someone to cut my fucking head off." Appropriately stung, I walked to the counter and ordered us the Starbucks' equivalent of yesterday's McDonald's confections. Her frappe looked and smelled significantly better, but I've already stated my preference in coffee. I waited the five minutes at the counter rather than go back to the table empty handed. Her outfit today mirrored her mood: a black turtleneck tucked into black jeans and black leather boots. The turtleneck was unfortunately form fitting and elastic, emphasizing her small, high breasts. Bonnie had a true cheerleaders physique. I wished she had left her coat on. We Need To Talk "I'm sorry," was what I said to her. "I'm sorry too," she admitted. "But not for the reason you think." As I sipped the coffee, and she skewered the frappe with a straw, I wondered what she thought my reason was. "This isn't about you, Jack," she muttered. "It isn't?" She shook her head. If anything, her hair was more disorganized than yesterday. I did something to me inside that I couldn't quite put a name to. Squeezed something or made it quiver uncomfortably. I really liked this almost mop-haired, almost tomboy look on her. It occurred to me she hadn't washed it and I liked that idea too. "What is it about then?" I asked. "My horrible insensitivity yesterday, and the fact that I dreamed about you all night long again." Sex had been a huge mistake for us both. I had tossed and turned all night and dreamed things I didn't want to examine in the cold light of dawn. I wouldn't tell her that anxiety had stopped me twice on my way home to Clinton to answer my cramped bowels. It wasn't Janice or my marriage that I was anxious about. My bowels were cramping a bit right now. "Would it be possible to forget about yesterday?" I asked. "Not because of your aunt, or your fiancé, or even the fact that I'm old enough to be your dad. Can we lock it away in a room somewhere and hang the key on a nail outside the door until we sort all this out?" Her expression was wry amusement. The twist of her mouth identical to that of an infamous Olympic gymnast. It occurred to me this was an expression achievable only by women. "Does the door have a deadbolt too?" she asked. "It does if you want it too," I agreed. "Multiple deadlocks and a big red and yellow sign warning of lethal radioactive content." Despite herself, Bonnie laughed. She idly stirred the frappe, looking somewhere in the middle distance of my chest. She hadn't yet tasted the iced coffee. It looked like she hadn't eaten today, either. The planes of her face were hand-chiseled; her cheeks polished marble, her nose and chin a labor of love. Bonnie was wasted as a software designer, I thought; her true vocation was in a sculptor's studio, draped over a Roman or Greek divan. I wanted to sculpt her myself. In horror, I watched my hand reach out and cup her left cheek. In relief, after a moment's hesitation, I watched her press my hand against her shoulder, capturing it. My insides felt like molten rock trapped in a magma chamber deep underground. I wanted Bonnie in the way she hadn't given herself to me yesterday. I removed my hand slowly and wrapped it with the other around the cup. "Sorry," I apologized. "That didn't help much." I sipped my coffee while she continued to stir the frappe. With a tiny smile she said, "It didn't hurt a lot, either." And then she apologized again for yesterday. * * * Bonnie slid the keycard into the slot and quickly yanked it up again. We both heard the telltale click of the mechanism and watched the light on the lock blink green. She pushed down the handle and cracked the door open before the light could flick back to red. She looked up, trepidation and uncertainty in her eyes. I could only smile at her reassuringly. I myself, needed the bathroom. The motel was the Holiday Inn Express in Springfield. Bonnie had paid for the room. Check-in was at 3:00 PM, but the clerk had let us check in an hour early. The room was typical Holiday Inn Express with two double beds, blue and white check carpeting, the appropriate number of tables, chairs, lamps and fixtures, a surprisingly large bathroom with a Jacuzzi that neither of us had suspected, a wide-screen TV and a nice view of the pool and the south parking lot. The lot was triangular, as was the property on which the motel sat, adjacent to I-95. "Room 411 welcomes you," I muttered. Letting the door close behind me, I ushered Bonnie inside and left her standing uncertainly by the first bed while I drew back the curtains and looked outside. We had a small balcony with just enough room to accommodate a chair, should one choose to sit outside and watch the sunbathers, were there any. A palm placed against the patio door told me I wanted to stay this side of the glass. It was 30 something outside and this high up, the wind would be the cold side of biting. Leaving the curtains drawn, I returned to Bonnie and stood before her. She place her head forlornly against my chest and I drew her against me and wrapped her with my arms. "Uncle Jack, what are we doing?" I had no answer for that question. Yesterday, we'd spent the afternoon in her bed. That option was no longer open to us. Bonnie had a roommate and the roommate was home today, so the townhouse was off-limits. Her apology earlier had to do with the way she had approached and executed our bedtime together. Insensitive was a good term; perhaps brutal was better. "I'm sorry," she whispered again. I rocked her lowly back and forth, purse clutched in her right hand, the other limp at her side. I had no intention of repeating yesterday's debacle. I had no possible reason to hold back on the dream issue any more, but I couldn't bring it up here. We needed out of this room. "Let's go to a movie," I said. "And get some dinner." She raised her head and met my eyes. "I promise not to be like yesterday," she said. To prove this she stretched up and tried to kiss my lips. I pulled back, putting them out of reach. "Not like this," I said. "Words are more appropriate right now. Let's talk about what's going on instead of attacking it head on." I touched her forehead with my own. "Don't think I don't want your kiss though, Bonnie. Believe me, I do. More than just about anything in the whole world." She had steadfastly avoided any emotional intimacy with me yesterday. If she offered it today, I wanted to deserve it. "A movie and dinner afterward," I said. "No more brute force attacks. Find a back door and finesse our way in. See if we can unravel this mystery using common sense." "A movie's good," she agreed slowly. Her eyes shown and she blinked rapidly and sniffed. "But don't even think about McDonalds, Uncle Jack." We both laughed. * * * The movie we saw was Life of Pi. I enjoyed it all but the final ten minutes. Bonnie had read the book and knew what to expect. I scolded her for not telling me beforehand. It gave me something other than my own dilemma to think about though. By mutual consent, we had engaged only in small talk since leaving the motel. As they had since yesterday afternoon, my thoughts were constantly disrupted by memories of Bonnie naked and me being inside her. Bonnie suggested Ruby Tuesday's in Alexandria. We arrived just after 6 PM. I had spoken with Janice earlier and told her whom I was with, and what we doing. She thought it delightful that Bonnie and I were bonding. The temperature had dropped into the 20's and we hurried inside both complaining that we hadn't dressed warmly enough. The wait was half an hour and we made more small talk at the bar waiting. I explained the theory and actuality of football. She explained the philosophical underpinnings of Life of Pi. She had the advantage in understanding, though I did agree the French cook made a believable hyena and I could accept the premise of Gita as the baboon. Whether bananas float is arguable. I was encouraged by the lightening in her mood and said nothing to disrupt it. The hostess finally sat us. "I'm still cold," Bonnie said. The booth was against the outer wall and gooseflesh erupted across her upper arms. She rubbed them, giving a little shiver. "I'll ask for another booth," I said, twisting to raise my hand for the waiter. Bonnie laid a hand on my left hand and said no. "I'll warm up. Coffee would help though." I ordered us both decaf. Following the appetizer, we both had a salad, mine Chef, hers with dried cranberries and cubes of broiled chicken. We discovered we were both quite hungry. I could tell she felt marginally better than she had earlier, more at piece with herself. I understood just how lousy she had felt earlier. Men do have the ability to understand that. Despite what situation comedies would have you believe. I ordered us refills on the decaf. "Thank you," she said, nodding at the cup in her hands. "I'd be totally wired right now and totally useless." She cooled the hot surface with her breath. "I have to ask you something, Uncle Jack." I nodded for her to proceed. "It's not if you normally drink decaf coffee, either." I grinned wryly and nodded. She blew on the coffee again. "Am I totally nuts?" I shook my head. "Dreams can be a powerful force in your life, Bonnie. Dreaming about any one thing, or any one person night after night takes a toll on your equilibrium. I know that." She nodded with a subtle, You have no idea roll of the eyes. I debated if it was time to bring it up. It wasn't, not quite yet. "I feel so horrible for what I did yesterday. And how I did it. I really took advantage of you, Uncle Jack." "In what way?" She raised her eyebrows and snorted. "It wasn't like that at all. I don't regret it, Bonnie. You should find it obvious, how much I like you." Her shoulders hunched uncomfortably. "I suspected, I guess. I just never expected it would lead to us being in bed together." "Normally it wouldn't," I agreed. "Normally." A long pause. "The truth is, I still don't understand the mental route I took to get from Point A, to Point B. It's just not logical. Or even reasonable. Or rational," she complained, her brow furrowed deeply. "I'm not sure I was capable of rational thought yesterday at all though." Her face colored deeply. "I do things in those dreams that I've never done with anyone else. Things I'd be humiliated for you to know about. Things I'm embarrassed to admit I enjoyed." I laughed softly. "Confession is good for the soul, Bonnie." "A good night's sleep is better," she said. I waited a moment, and then said: "I have something to tell you, Bonnie." She looked at me over the rim of her cup. "It's about your dreams." "I won't describe them," she warned. "So don't ask." I shook my head. "Let me describe mine." I recounted my first dream of her at the family outing; she cocked her head thoughtfully. When I recapped the football stadium dream her eyes widened in shock and her mouth dropped open when I detailed the events in the log cabin. "Those are my dreams!" she exclaimed. "How can you be dreaming my dreams?" She placed her hands either side of the coffee mug on the table. "Did I talk in my sleep last night? Is that how you know about them?" I stared at her in consternation. There had been no sleeping, and no last night either. She'd seen me out the front door (booted is more accurate, but so un-politically correct) at just after 6 PM, stone-faced and ready for tears. She remembered this and shook her head dismissively. I remained confounded that my suspicion was right, that we'd not just been dreaming of each other, but sharing the same dreams. I'd begun to suspect the moment she confessed the happenings yesterday. It didn't make it any more believable. "It's coincidence," she denied flatly. "I just had dreams similar to those and I'm cross-linking details. People don't dream the same dreams." "Those were my first three dreams," I clarified. "I've had plenty, plenty more. What order did the similar ones occur for you?" She continued shaking her head. "I didn't tell you this yesterday because I thought you'd go nuts on me. Accuse me of trying to entrap you somehow, use your emotional vulnerability to my advantage. Bonnie, I have no reason to lie about this, or try to make it up as I go along. You're calm enough now to see that something other than coincidence, or deceit, is going on here." She refused to believe any part of it. I sighed, asked if I should take her home. She nodded firmly, but then less decisively shook her head. She bit her lower lip. "There's no reason for you to lie about this," she said. I shook my head in agreement. "You've already fucked me. You have nothing to gain by lying." I winced. She ignored it. "I'm still vulnerable, though, and I'm trying to make up for my insensitivity yesterday by being with you again today, and tonight, and you're putting that at risk by telling me this. Either you're really stupid, or you're telling me the truth, consequences be damned." She leaned forward. "Are you lying to me, Uncle Jack?" I shook my head. "You're willing to sacrifice being with me tonight?" I nodded. She sat back and sighed deeply, looking away. Tears were in her eyes. "This just makes things so much worse." * * * It was just after midnight. I lay on my side with Bonnie spooned in against me. I had one arm pillowing her head and the other crossing her, my hand cupping her right breast. She breathed slowly and easily in my arms. Semen leaked out of me and wet her buttocks. She was squeamish about semen and I felt her stiffen. I had laughed my head off earlier when she insisted I give her a mouthful to swallow and had then gagged and spewed it back out into her cupped hands, which only grossed her out more. I think her aversion is adorable; that angers her to no end. Apparently, she has never successfully swallowed a mouthful of sperm unless high on coke, which makes her incredibly horny. She admitted to asking for and enjoying anal sex when she's high. I didn't ask for, or perform anal sex with her tonight. I would enjoy it, yes, you bet I would, but that's Bonnie's decision, just as it was her decision to take me orally. I nuzzled the side of her neck and the underside of her jaw. She shivered and laughed silently. "It's hard to believe we fit together so well," she said. She wasn't referring to our current nested positions. In my 15 years of marriage to Janice I had never had so intense a sexual relationship as I'd experienced with Bonnie tonight. With any other woman. Yesterday paled in comparison. Yesterday was better forgotten, or leastwise, never mentioned again. Regret doesn't begin to cover it. "I take all the credit," I said. She laughed. "Men do that. Men are so clueless. Are you clueless, Uncle Jack?" "Maybe I am. All these years I overlooked the yin to my yang. The click to my clack. The grease to my bearings." She laughed again. "I was 12 when I met you. I was a little young to go around clicking my yin or clacking your yang, or greasing your bearings." She laughed delightedly. "The grease to your bearings?" "Metaphorically challenged, I know." I nuzzled her neck again. "It's amazing to feel this excellent without the assistance of controlled substances." "We are high," she countered, "On endorphins." I squeezed her lovingly, especially that wonderful breast in my right hand. I coaxed her nipple into bursting hardness, making her squirm. "Thank you for trusting me not to give you anything," I whispered. "Condoms protect the wearer too," she pointed out. "Thank you for trusting you not to give me anything," I appended. She giggled. "I thought I did rather well giving you things tonight." I rotated her mouth upward with my left arm and claimed her lips. Her words had done the impossible: generating another erection between her buttocks. "Uncle Jack!" she protested. "You can't be." I slid her beneath me, spread her legs and effortlessly invaded her lush wetness. Even as she groaned "You can't possibly want me again, Uncle Jack," her arms snaked around my neck and her knees nested in against my ribs and she resumed her moaning and joyful whimpering. * * * On the drive back to the motel we compared notes. Not every dream of mine had a corresponding entry in her diary, nor hers in mine. Most dreams varied to some degree; locations, participants, circumstances. The most vivid dreams, like the one in the log cabin when I fixated on her adorable pink anus, varied the least in detail. To my surprise, her version included me taking her there on her hands and knees. "I can't tell you how unnerved I was, waking from that one," she muttered darkly. Under gentle pressure, she admitted to having fought equally for and against the experience. She volunteered that I had come inside her without benefit of a condom. Yesterday the condom never came off. Tonight, it never went on. I never brought up nor suggested through action that we have anal sex. I left her breathtaking little orifice alone. The cabin was not alone in the unexpected sexual intercourse department. Almost every dream of Bonnie's included or ended in the two of us having sex. I revealed how different this was from my own experience. And how I couldn't explain that. She regarded me speculatively for a moment. And then giggled and looked away, palm over her mouth. "What?" I demanded. She laughed throatily, a wonderful sound. "Bonnie?" "You're a man," she snorted. I didn't see the connection. And then I did. I began to laugh too, thinking of the stadium/armory dream and how I'd been 'arguing about tickets'. After a bit we both sobered. "Why do you think we're joint dreaming?" I asked. She shrugged. "I can't tell you why salmon swim upstream, either. Does it really matter? Actually, I do know why." She leaned over and for the first time, kissed me on the lips. * * * "You really think that's the reason?" I asked. Bonnie mumbled something into her hair. It covered her face, a completely wild mess that reminded me of strewn hay. I revealed her right eye with a fingertip. She blew a lock away from her nose. I had discovered earlier what a grump she was after being sexually ravished. "The reason for what?" "Sharing our dreams." Without opening her eyes she blew the offending lock of hair in two directions. I cleared her some breathing space. "Thank you," she muttered. I gave her breast a squeeze. She squeezed my testicles in return. Very gently. "Do you want some deep, dark, conspiratorial explanation instead?" she asked. "I'm cool with yours," I admitted. Anything bringing Bonnie and I together was A+ in my book. I raised her right leg and slipped a finger into her sodden vagina. "You're not serious." Her body stiffened defensively but she didn't attempt to stop me. I had discovered Bonnie had a certified G-spot. She jerked when I turned it on. "Oh, my God," she moaned, slipping her hand beneath mine, and seeking out her panic button. She began to motor along under internal and external combustion both. I hoped to reduce her to a quivering blob of Jell-O. She was almost there now. I suspected she'd want a piston in her other internal combustion chamber soon. Her bottom grinding against me was a pretty good clue. So was the way she began to position herself. And position me with her free hand. I was Viagra hard for the 20th time that night. "I'm ready, Uncle Jack," she moaned. In her ear I asked in a whisper if she really wanted to do this. She nodded disjointedly, arched her spine, positioned the head of my penis against her anus, and worked herself onto it with a gasp. I held her gently and let her get used to my presence, and then pushed my way slowly inside her. A shudder ran through her as my entire length buried itself inside. I had never taken a woman before in one unbroken thrust. She began to shiver uncontrollably. "If you don't stop that," I said a little desperately. "This will be the world's shortest unauthorized excursion." She laughed under her scarecrow mop. I groaned as she repositioned her bottom and swallowed another inch of me, the last inch I had. "I can see why you like this so much. You're a sadist," I whispered. "This is torture banned under the Geneva Conventions." We'd moved no more than a couple shifting unconsciously in our sleep, yet here I was, heart banging like a fist against my ribcage, lungs laboring, blood pressure somewhere in the imminent stroke range; I felt like a filmed couple moving in ultra slow motion. I wrapped Bonnie tight in my arms and slowly began to fuck her asshole. We Need To Talk "Unghhhh," fought its way up her throat and out her mouth. She was rigid and unmoving in my arms, letting Uncle Jack enjoy every centimeter of her tightness. She breathed through her mouth in deep, chest expanding inhalations. Her anus tightened and relaxed on my shaft, clamping down as I withdrew from her, easing its chokehold as I slipped back in. I had never experienced sexual intercourse like this. I prayed Bonnie had never been like this with another man. Her entire body quivered in reaction and I astonished myself by fucking her like this for nearly ten minutes. When I came, it was peaceful but incredibly intense, lasting what felt like 10 minutes, not the actual 10 seconds it probably was. I remained inside her unmoving as an orgasm 100 times more powerful than mine ravaged her body. She writhed, spasmed, moaned incoherently. Her industrious finger never left the nub of her clitoris throughout the whole thing. No wonder she detonated like a supernova. Somewhat to my horror, she passed out from exertion and to much adrenaline. * * * It was after 4 A.M.. We sat facing each other on the bed, her bed as I'd come to think of it, sharing the quart of butter pecan ice cream we'd stopped for coming back from dinner. She fed me a spoonful, then one for herself. Her hair was an explosion of yellow. I have never see hair so beautiful. She looked peaked, exhausted, sexually deconstructed. My penis was raw as hamburger. Her tenderloin, as she playfully called it, was red, raw, inflamed and nearly swollen closed. Despite this, I wanted her again. "I never closed the curtains," I pointed out. She didn't bother to look. Everything we'd done that night was in front of the open curtains. And not all we did was in the dark. Things got weird after our first kiss. Bonnie sank back into her seat, looked out the window in embarrassment, shrank in upon herself and clasped her hands in her lap. My heart took a while to slow down. My erection took even longer. For a moment it was difficult to breath, as though my diaphragm had locked up. I couldn't remember a kiss ever effecting me like this. It definitely affected Bonnie. "Sorry if that was unexpected," she mumbled. "Unexpected, yes, unwanted, no," I countered. I had her lipstick on my mouth. Though tasteless, it was a strange sensation. I hadn't even known she wore it tonight. "Can I tell you something?" I asked. She nodded cautiously. "If you had kissed me yesterday like you just kissed me now, I don't think we'd be in this car right now." She was silent a moment. "Is that a good thing, or bad, Uncle Jack?" I had to consider that a moment. "I don't know," I finally admitted. "I wish today could replace yesterday." "I do too," she agreed. She hesitantly placed her left hand on my right leg, just above the knee. I placed my hand atop hers. It was our first really intimate touch. I wanted to show that delicately small hand how much I wanted her, but contented myself to leave it there, held gently by my own. "Can I tell you something else?" I asked. She nodded. "I wouldn't trade where we are right now for any other situation on earth." At the motel, we rode in companionable silence up to the 4th floor, and Bonnie slipped her hand into mine halfway to the room. I interleaved our fingers and she gripped my hand tightly. I had trouble not halting there in the corridor and sweeping her into my arms. She would not fight if I did. I worried more that she'd give herself to me right there, fuck any cameras or eyes behind peepholes in the adjacent doors. I would humiliate us both. Instead, I placed my hands on her hips and pressed my swollen erection into her backside as she unlocked the door. I wondered if we'd make it past the small entry foyer. Bonnie laughed throatily as the door closed and I flipped the security bolt. "I feel 16 years old," she said. I wagged my eyebrows lecherously. She moved ahead of my down the entry, disjointedly, half-backing, half-crabbing sideways, and I knew her estrogen levels were off the charts, just like my testosterone levels. I wanted to rip her clothes right off her. Her expression, rather alarmed, said that was a real possibility. "Whoa, boy," she whispered. "Let's at least take our coats off first." That made me laugh and semi-defused the situation. I placed a hand on her shoulder and just stood there leaning against the wall. Her smile was nervous but happy. I noticed the reflection of us in the patio door and grinned at myself. That is one lucky fellow, I thought. Undeserving. Unworthy. Blessed. Bonnie turned to look. "I'll get it," I said. "Don't be so fast," she said, holding me by the elbow. Her grin was playful and mischievous, but also self-conscious. The corners of her mouth twitched. She tipped her head suggestively. "I've never strip-teased for an audience before." I was momentarily taken aback. Was she joking? Did I want to share her with others, even clandestinely? Out of place jealousy set my jaw. "You assume I'd let you take them off yourself?" I said. Her eyebrows arched and she grinned wider. "You plan to undress me yourself?" "I plan to do a lot of things to you," I said threateningly. She fought hard not to giggle. I fought hard not to rip her clothes off where she stood. She fidgeted nervously with the long beige scarf around her neck, not knowing what to make of the situation. She masked her internal turmoil, possibly terror, with mischievousness. I was willing to let her because she'd been such a mental wreck earlier. A wreck whose responsibility was mine. "We're too far back for anyone to see," I told her. She looked at her reflection in the glass and bit her lower lip. "I'm not sure..." She walked to the glass and I followed. No buildings were within eyeshot. A number of cars were moving through the parking lot, and I determined that if we could see the farthest part of the lot from the 4th floor, they could spot us. We'd be visible to some extent as far as 8' back into the room. I didn't want to undress Bonnie directly before the patio window for obvious reasons; that would be a dead giveaway. Voyeurism is best enjoyed on the sly. A look between us was all it took. I moved to stand in front of the 2nd bed, and Bonnie followed. I shrugged out of my coat, and she removed hers. I pitched them both into the chair. "Will you undress me?" she asked. I shook my head. I nodded slightly in the direction of the glass, indicating I'd enjoy the scenario from the viewpoint of the audience. Reddening slightly, she nodded in return and undid the buckle of her belt. She moved slowly, deliberately, a noticeable tremor in her hands; the set of her jaw revealing her tension. The beat of her heart showed under the front of her black turtleneck, her pulse in veins at her temples and neck. She was envisioning herself bare breasted in front of the open window, and then completely nude, showing anyone with eyes and the fortune to be looking up, her exquisite, if small breasts, flat tummy and the rest of her exceptional body. My erection strained the front of my Dockers almost to the tearing point. A thrill of pleasure ripped me at the sight of her nipples pointing like fingertips through her bra and turtleneck sweater. I was ready to do something stupid. "I may have..." She gulped, smiled uneasily. "Bitten more than I can chew." She cut her eyes anxiously at the glass. "I've always wanted to do this. Now I'm chickening out." I grinned wryly. "I'm not forcing you, Bonnie." She smiled uneasily again. "I really want to do this though." She shivered ever so slightly, up and down and then up again. "I wonder how much adrenaline is in my bloodstream right now?" "I'm more interested in your estrogen level," I said drolly, not trusting myself to say anything else. She laughed hoarsely. With trembling fingers she undid the button on her slacks and lowered the zipper. She freed the bottom of her turtleneck and awkwardly, and with some difficulty, peeled it up and over her head, revealing an equally black, lacy brassiere. As she lowered her encased arms, her bra refilled and she had breasts again. Her nipples jabbed at me angrily through the shear fabric. I had snuck a look yesterday at her bra, another lacy purple one: 28 A. Bonnie looked natural small, the way an apple looked natural red. I yearned to have her nipples in my mouth, her breasts cupped in my hands. Yesterday I had neither. "I feel like a rabbit being eyed by a hungry wolf," she observed worriedly. "More the sacrificial lamb," I allowed, indicating her bed, farthest from the window. "That's your altar. I have the ceremonial dagger in my pants. I intend to eviscerate you slowly and painfully, Bonnie." She half-gasped, half-choked out: "Uncle Jack!" her laugh half horrified, her face flushing cardinal-red. "You have such a way with words. No wonder Aunt Janice loves you so much." She disentangled her arms and let the top drop to the floor. Shifting uneasily, she wiggled out of her slacks and let them puddle around her ankles. She stepped out and kicked them aside clumsily, both her eyes and head wanting to swivel toward the door. Ten thousand eyes stared up at her from the parking lot. That's what her expression said. Tomorrow she'd be stripping all over the Internet. I wondered if anyone really did see her. I hoped so, surprising myself. Her bra came off next. Reaching behind, she fumbled the catch and managed somehow to get it open. "I will be topless before the entire world," she reminded me. I nodded and she released the straps and let the brassiere rest loosely on her shoulders. Hidden from me, from the side she be visible. Someone with binoculars would see her bare-breasted before I would. How ironic, I thought. A shudder dislodged her bra and it slid off her shoulders. She caught it reflexively in the crook of her arms, hunching protectively. Her upper body exploded into gooseflesh. Grinning, I motioned with a finger to let her brassiere drop to the floor. She did. I made a twirling motion with my finger and she laughed and made a calculating, fashion-model twirl in place to present her bare breasts. My heart mimicked her twirl and left me breathless and giddy. It was like I'd never seen her naked before, and this was virgin flesh to my eyes. Blood pressure had surf crashing in my ears. I knew intuitively that when I entered Bonnie tonight, it would be the fastest, most intense orgasm I'd had. I prayed she'd instantly detonate along with me. She faced me again looking uncertain. I made a half-twirl with my fingertip and she turned to face a way, looking back over her shoulder. I grinned, and she interpreted my intention correctly, striking the classic Betty Grable pose. I chortled, that's the only word for it. "If you knew how incredible you look." "Right," she snorted. "I weigh a hundred pounds, have no boobs and my backside's as flat as a book. Perhaps you'd like to restate that, Uncle Jack?" With a pert grin, she thumbed down her panties and revealed her bare behind. It was flat, and more like a skinny boy's butt than a girl's. But it belonged to Bonnie and that made it the most desirable bare bottom in the world. Leaving her underwear awry, she came to me and wrapped my neck with her arms, rose up on tip toe and flattened herself to me, seeking my mouth. Of course, I gave it to her immediately. She shuddered violently and gripped the back of my shirt in one fist, and a handful of my hair in the other, using the handholds as leverage to rise and wrap her legs around my waist, coming up to kiss me at mouth level. I held her there as she tried to eat my lips and tongue and soul. A noise somewhere between a moan of frustration and raw desire struggled up her throat and died of strangulation. She tried to pack a lifetime of intimacy and desire into one single kiss, and pretty much succeeded. She broke away, breathlessly and said in a horse gasp, clinging to me shakily: "It's time to fuck me now, Uncle Jack." So I took her to the bed and did just that. * * * The ice cream was good. I took the spoon from her grasp-"Hey!" she objected petulantly-stuck it into the ice cream and fed her a mouthful, which she slowly sucked off the spoon. Her eyes dared me to make anything of her suggestiveness. She threatened to smash the mirror over the credenza, grab up the largest, most dangerous shard and castrate me if I touched her again. She was in a pleasantly foul mood, the mood of a partner you've just rutted to within an inch of her dear life. The kind of mood you want your exhausted lover in. "I have never been so sore," she grumbled. "I am humbled by your admission," I said, feeding her another spoonful. The glint in her eye told me she was thinking of mirrors and tractable eunuchs. I knew she imagined herself walking like a cowgirl later on today. Sleep would usher in the stiffness and internal hemorrhaging. My penis wanted to beat me with a baseball bat. I couldn't blame it. "The fact that we're awake and eating ice cream at 4 o'clock in the morning should tell you something," I said. She leaned forward and accepted another spoonful. "Mmmm," she answered. "I wish you tasted like ice cream instead of like Castor Oil." She wiped her mouth. "You're the only man I've ever wanted to swallow his sperm. I'm sorry I wasn't able to, Uncle Jack." I leaned across and kissed her gently. "I appreciate that you wanted to. Not many women want to do something like that." I shrugged. She stole back the spoon and fed herself another bite. "I promise I'll never do it with anyone else. How about that?" I laughed approvingly. "Thank you. But that's not a promise I'll try to keep you to." Se eyed me speculatively. "This is it, isn't it?" she asked. I nodded sadly. "I guess it has to be." She sucked on another spoonful. "I don't regret it. Never in a million years, will I regret it." She leaned forward and kissed me again. I took her wrist in my hand and placed the other behind her neck and made love to her tongue for what we both guessed was the last time. It was imperative we end this now. Before we did something stupid. "I love you, Bonnie," I whispered. "I love you too, Uncle Jack." I released her and she sat back and began to silently cry, shoveling ice cream into her mouth. And then suddenly, she stopped. "What?" I asked. She looked around the motel room. "What if...you don't think...?" Her head snapped around and she looked at me with wide, fear-struck eyes. "You don't think we're dreaming, do you?" "No, of course not," I said immediately. "Because, I'd kill myself if we were!" She fumbled the container of ice cream and it landed with a thud between her legs. "No-no-no-no-no!" she pleaded miserably. "Please don't let this be a dream!" She began to sit up, and... * * * "No!" I yelled, thrashing awake and sitting up in bed. I twisted my head around in desperation but I was in my bedroom at home and the motel room was somewhere miles away, in Springfield, Virginia. I thumped the covers and yelled "No!" again, grabbed a pillow and hurled it across the room. I grabbed the other two pillows and hurled them in a rage also. "No! No! No!" I shouted, pounding the mattress. It was Saturday morning, and I had dreamed the whole weekend. I had dreamed it all. I grabbed my cell phone to make sure. It was 10:45 AM and I had badly overslept. The date was Saturday, December 15th. My phone nearly went sailing across the room like the pillows. And then I realized the phone call that started it all in my dream, happened right about now. I looked at the phone dumbly, thought, No, it can't be, and then, with trembling fingers and my heart in my throat, dialed the number I had lately committed to memory. It rang four times and was picked up on the other end, also like in the dream. In a choked voice I said: "Uncle Jack?" "Bonnie?" I heard him say, startled. "We need to talk." THE END We Need To Talk About Last Night Mark woke up to the sensation of a hand gently stroking across his chest. He opened his eyes and turned his head to the side. There, lying on her side, next to him was Rebecca his beloved wife of 8 years. "Good morning." Mark said. "Good morning." Rebecca said. "I think we should talk about last night." Mark said. "Later." Rebecca said. She rolled closer to Mark and kissed him. He could taste a hint of cum in her mouth and the smell of sex was still all over her. Rebecca reached her hand down beneath the sheet and began gently stroking Mark's cock to get it ready...it didn't take long. Rebecca moved on top of Mark sitting across his thighs. The sheet was pushed down towards Mark's knees completely exposing their naked bodies. The early morning light creeping in through the curtains was enough to give the room a soft glow. In the dim light Mark could see the marks that had been left on Rebecca's body. She was slowly stroking his cock as Mark looked at the bight marks and bruises on his wife's body. He had never seen her like that before and it made him a little sad. His beautiful wife's perfect body had been left covered in marks that though temporary were enough to detract from her natural beauty. He could only see a little of it because of the way she was sitting, but even her pussy showed redness as a sign of what had happened the previous night. Mark got a better look at Rebecca's red pussy as well as the bruising and bight marks on her thighs as she moved to take him inside her. Mark absolutely loved the feeling of having his cock inside his wife, but things felt different now. There was a looseness that hadn't been there before. Mark hoped that it wasn't permanent. Rebecca started rocking her hips grinding her pussy on Mark's cock. She leaned down pressing her body against Mark's and kissed him. "Make love to me." Rebecca said. Mark rolled both of them over so that Rebecca was on her back with Mark on top of her. He kissed her lips and trailed down to the nape of her neck as he slowly moved his cock in and out of his beloved wife. There was no rush, it was Saturday and they didn't have any plans so Mark took things slowly. For nearly an hour he slowly and methodically raised both of their levels of pleasure until finally they climaxed together. Mark kissed Rebecca for a while before rolling off of her onto his back beside her on the bed. For a few minutes they were silent as they caught their breath. "Can we talk about last night now?" Mark asked. "Yes Mark. If you want to we can talk about last night now." Rebecca said. "Did you...you know...enjoy it?" Mark asked. "I won't lie to you Mark, it was one of the most incredible and intense sexual experiences of my life." Rebecca said. "Was it better than making love with me?" Mark asked. Rebecca rolled over to hold Mark and kiss him. "Oh no Mark, nothing compares to that. Please don't ever think that. Last night was...different. I'd never experienced anything like last night before. Making love with you is the most wonderful feeling in the world. What happened last night was raw unbridled fucking. It was a much different experience than making love, and the excitement of it and the raw animal lust of it made it intense and incredible, but it was not better than making love with you." Rebecca said. "Are you sure Rebecca? I mean I was there last night. I saw the look in your eyes. I saw the things that you did. I heard the things that you said. Are you sure that you prefer making love over what happened last night?" Mark asked. "Mark, last night was amazing, but there was no emotion involved. There was no love. It was just two people fucking as hard, as fast, and as completely raw and unrestricted as they could. Yes I had a look of pure lust in my eyes. Yes I said things that I normally don't say. Yes I did things that I normally don't do. That was the point of it though Mark. Last night was all about getting away from the way you and I make love so I could experience the raw animalistic pleasures of fucking. I hope that seeing me like that last night hasn't changed your love for me. I love you even more after what happened last night. The fact that you would let me experience that means the world to me Mark. You could have said no and it wouldn't have happened, but you said yes. You let me experience it and it was amazing. I hope you don't have any regrets about what happened last night. Do you have regrets about what happened?" Rebecca asked. Mark hesitated. "Well...I guess not. I figured that since you wanted to do it that much and had begged me for so long to let it happen that you'd enjoy it. I guess I just wasn't prepared for you to enjoy it that much." Mark said. Rebecca frowned. "I'm sorry if the way I enjoyed it upset you Mark." Rebecca said. "It's okay Rebecca. I agreed to let it happen so I'm glad that you enjoyed it." Mark said. "I did enjoy it Mark. What about you though?" Rebecca asked. "What about me?" Mark asked. "We've been talking about how I feel about last night. What did you think of last night?" Rebecca asked. "Well...truthfully last night was very confusing for me." Mark said. "Why is that?" Rebecca asked. "I was a little surprised and uncomfortable about how much you were enjoying it, but I was even more surprised that I found myself enjoying it. I never would have thought that I'd enjoy it...at least not very much, but I did." Mark said. Rebecca smiled. "So you did enjoy it?" Rebecca asked. "Yeah...I mean...it was a completely different experience for me. I saw a whole different side of you last night that both scared and excited me. I certainly didn't enjoy it as much as making love with you, but I did enjoy it." Mark said. "So since you enjoyed it at least a little and I really enjoyed it would last night be something we could try again?" Rebecca asked. Mark could see the hope in his wife's eyes. "I suppose that we could try it again. I'd prefer that we not make a regular thing of it though. I don't think I could handle that." Mark said. "Oh sweetheart you don't know how much this means to me." Rebecca said. She kissed Mark. "You don't have to worry sweetheart, I prefer making love with you more than I enjoyed what happened last night. At most I'll ask if we can do it once or twice a month. Would that be okay?" Rebecca asked. "I suppose I could handle fucking you once or twice a month, as long as we still make love like we have been." Mark said. "Of course Mark...why do you think we made love earlier? It's Saturday morning...we make love on Saturday mornings a lot to get our weekend off to a good start." Rebecca said. "Well this one had a strange start last night, but it's much better this morning. Do you want to go get some breakfast? I'm starving." Mark said. Rebecca giggled. "We did skip dinner last night and spent several hours fucking...that burns a lot of energy. Let's go through the shower first. I don't want to walk into the diner with the thick smell of sex on me." Rebecca said. "Okay. Before we go through the shower there's something that I want to know. It's something that you never really explained to me about all this." Mark said. "What's that sweetheart?" Rebecca asked. "Why did you even want this in the first place?" Mark asked. "You're the only man I've ever been with so the only sexual experiences I'd had before last night were making love with you. I've heard my sister and my friends talk about fucking and it didn't sound anything like making love, but it sounded exciting. That's why I wanted what happened last night Mark. I wanted to know what raw animalistic fucking was like compared to making love. They're both very enjoyable, but they are way different." Rebecca said. "Okay. Let's hop in the shower. My stomach is rumbling." Mark said. They got out of bed and headed for the shower. ------------------------- NOTE: I've had several feedbacks calling this a "cuckold" story. If you read it carefully you'll see that the husband was the one that fucked his wife instead of making love to her. There was no other man involved. We Need to Talk Ch. 02 This is a continuation of "We need to talk" Part 1 and is a fictional representation. I would recommend that you read the first story to set the stage and add some continuity. This story involves characters over the age of 18, and the theme is incest related. As an author's note, my thanks to Beth for her editing and constructive comments. Beyond that, if you're hung up on 1st person / 3rd person story telling... sorry, it's just my style. Enjoy! * "How could you? And with our own daughter, you sick bastard" Jan's accusation remains forever etched in my memory. I still recall her words, "I talked with Megan, so spare me the lame excuses and explanations. I don't want this to ruin our family, although it very well could." Three months had passed since my affair with our daughter Megan began. She had since returned to fall term at college in Seattle. Regretfully, only yesterday my wife Jan had discovered this affair and surreptitiously approached me with the electronic evidence and accusation. Admittedly, I had begun a covert affair with my adult daughter, which had lasted for the duration of her summer break from the university. Jan, my wife, recently discovered the initial e-mail exchanges from this past June and dug deeper to gather sufficient evidence to confirm her suspicions and to approach me with the well-founded accusation. Recalling the past summer, activities at home continued without any overt indication of the affair. And on every occasion of convenience, Megan and I enjoyed the company of each other and often, in my bed, her bed, or wherever the moment allowed. It was odd, having never strayed from Jan before, to make love to my wife one night and my daughter the next morning. Yes, it was making love on both occasions. I do love my wife, and my daughter. Yet somehow, the line of "love" with Megan was unexpectedly crossed to a point of no return, like a forbidden fruit that becomes an obsession. I questioned my motives for having no regrets about being involved with Megan, since it was consensual and mutually gratifying. Strangely enough, but our affair and lovemaking was an unexpected but natural progression of events. No guilt, no remorse and certainly no regrets. My sex life with Jan prior to Megan was frequent and satisfying, and to her delight had dramatically intensified during the summer; no doubt fueled my recollections of sex with Megan. I loved Jan and found her physically attractive. That has never been an issue, and would be a sorry "excuse" for my straying. Jan traveled monthly to Chicago for visits with her publisher and for book-signings in various cities throughout the country, often gone as much as a week at a time. She would call nightly, sometimes when I was in bed naked together with Megan. Megan and I would both talk with her as normal. Sometimes, Megan would tease me and silently flaunt and play with her naked body in front of me while I spoke on the phone with Jan. On occasions, would suck on my hard dick to playfully distract my thoughts. Or, she would straddle me as I lay on the bed talking to Jan, and would with great restraint silently bring herself to orgasm. She was insatiable. But, back to the moment at issue: Jan was confronting me about such a seemingly illogical act in such a logical manner. "Rick," she continued, "I don't want this to destroy our family, but I don't know how I can ever trust you again...or Megan for that matter." I could sense the rise in her intensity, "I mean, how you would feel if I had been banging Andrew...No, don't even answer that. I know your state of mind. That would probably absolve you of any guilt or wrong-doing. You'd probably like that wouldn't you? You'd like it if I was FUCKING our son in our own bed, sucking on his cock and taking him deep into my pussy every time you weren't around, wouldn't you?" ... she paused, and started to weep. I knew better than to speak. She had to get this out, like it or not. "Rick I am so hurt by this and so torn between love and devotion, and true rage over being deceived by the people I loved and trusted more than anyone else in the whole world." She poured out and she continued weeping again with tears of anger and hurt. "I know how beautiful and attractive Megan is, and how close you two were before this, and I was glad for that relationship. But I also know that what you've done has changed it forever, and you will have to live with the consequences. I am glad to not have that on my conscience. I doubt it, but I hope it was worth it to you." Feeling her initial wave of anger subside, I sensed that it was safe to look up and face her. I knew that she had to unload her feelings and would take it as a confrontation if I were to make eye contact. I was humbled, but still not sure what to say or do, or if any comment would be accepted now or not. Taking a chance I offered, "I never meant for this to happen, and do know that there will be consequences, for our family and for each of us individually, especially me." Jan acknowledged my comment sensibly, again falling into a logical mindset, "I know you Rick, or at least thought I knew you, and could expect what you would do given just about any circumstance, although this one never crossed my mind. As for consequences, you are on you own, well not entirely since our family relationships are so intricately woven together. Think about it, what if Andrew finds out? And, I'm sure he will eventually in one way or another. And what about my relationship with Megan? Did you think about that?" It was clear that she wasn't finished with her tirade yet and continued, "Last and foremost, what about us Rick? How can I ever make love to you without wondering if you are thinking of me or Megan? It only makes sense that I would or could have those feelings. A trust issue has been seriously breached. Good God Rick, why couldn't you have just had a fling with some young bimbo to satisfy your carnal urge? I'd be pissed, but I mean, why did it have to be with Megan?" Her logic and reasoning was gone and replaced again by emotion as her voice rose and tears flowed freely. "Jan," I spoke for the first time, cautiously, "I won't stoop to say that I know how you feel, and I know better than to make an excuse for my actions. But I believe that it's better now that you don't know the details of "what" or "why" at least not for now. I can only say that I'm sorry that this happened the way it did, and for the hurt that it caused you." Jan accepted the apology in silence, but did not reply, still looking toward the floor with tears streaming down her cheeks. Accepting her silence as permission to continue, "This has come as a shock to you, I know. It was much unexpected for me, and I could have handled it much different from the very beginning, avoiding this outcome. But here we are." I continued, "I can't read your mind, and certainly don't know what you will do after you have had some time to think about this, although, it's clear that you knew about it before today. Take this for what it is worth, but I do love you and our children, and want to work through this. However, easier said that done and I don't even know what to do next. But I least wanted to make that clear to you." Jan still sat in silence, pondering my comments. Realizing that this was my one and only chance to lay a groundwork for repairing the damage done, I continued, "You may never trust me again as you did before. In fact you may never trust me again at all, but that is up to you. Simply stated, I screwed up." "Screwed up!" Try again mister for a better choice of words," she returned, and then realized the emotion of her outburst, "Sorry." "Here we are. It's my mistake, but it's our choice to either rebuild relationships or call it quits. Plain and simple." I offered succinctly. "Rick," Jan finally looked up, "I've known about this for a couple of weeks, after seeing the e-mails. I know this started on your e-mail, but Megan carelessly used my computer for her e-mails and foolishly left messages in the "Deleted" folder. You need to understand that I just need to some to think now that this is out in the open. I would appreciate it if you just give me some space and time alone until I can make some sense out of this... if that could ever happen." Jan turned and walked away. I heard the bedroom door close and sat in my office staring off into nowhere. "Shit" I whispered to myself and once again looked into the face the of my accuser, the condemning computer screen. I heard Andrew's car pull into the driveway, and sighed "Shit" again. "Bad timing." And wondered what would happen next. "Hey Pops." As he entered from the garage, passing by my office on the way to the kitchen. Andrew was wearing a tank top and shorts, with a basketball tucked under his arm. Beads of perspiration still on his face and body following an afternoon game with the guys. "Where's mom?" he inquired, well aware that our cars were both in the garage. "Oh, she's in her room freshening up. Not feeling well," I covered. "What's for dinner? I'm starved" he mumbled after raiding the fridge and already half devouring a leftover chicken breast at 4:00 PM. "Kids." I recalled. "Some things never change." feeling comfort in the normal daily routine of life in spite of the recent revelations. The phone rang, and Andrew answered. After just a moment he hung up and was headed towards his room announcing, "Dad I'm going to Todd's for the evening. He's having a swim party with friends, and I'll probably hang our there for the night. Tell mom." "See ya," as he cheerfully breezed by my office, bag in hand and headed for the garage. "Bye kiddo." I replied with a certain amount of relief. I heard his car start and rumble down the road and listened to the unnerving silence in the house. Jan stayed in our bedroom for the evening. She obviously didn't have an appetite, and nor did I for that matter. I retired to the living room, seated on my favorite chair, a haven in troubled times such as this. Instinctively, I went to eh kitchen pantry, opened a box of snack crackers and ate a handful. At about 9, and still no sign or word from Jan, I knocked gently on the bedroom door, intending to retrieve some things for an anticipated night on the couch. "Come in," I heard her softly reply. Opening the door, I saw that the lights were off, but could still clearly see Jan in the last light of evening. She had changed into her robe and was lying on top of the bedspread. I offered, "Just came in for a couple things. I'll only be a minute." She did not get up, but watched silently as I retrieved a robe and headed for the door, fully intending to change in the hall bathroom. After all these years of intimacy, a simple act of removing my clothes in front of her felt awkward. "Wait. Don't leave." she called as I passed through the doorway toward the hall. I stopped and turned to face her, fully expecting another onslaught of angry accusations when she spoke, "I just don't understand why....why would you do that to us, you and I? Right now I don't even want an explanation, but you just need to know what I'm thinking. I deserve that much at least. I know you love me, and God only knows why, but I still love you. I'm only trying to make some sense out of something entirely with reason." I stood at the doorway and listened as she continued, "I am so mad at you and hurt, but I need comfort. You have always been the one I turned to, so what am I to do? Perplexed, I stood in the doorway, pondering whether to go to her or give her the space she asked for earlier, or the comfort she asked for now, and to what end? Reason and commitment took over and I moved to the bed taking a seat beside her, placing a hand softly on her shoulder. "Only one day ago comforting Jan would have been second nature without any thought. And now, I just am at a loss as with a virtual stranger." "Hold me," and she pulled my free hand bringing me beside her, eye to eye. "I need this. I need your closeness to re-assure me in whatever way you can." She continued in spite of her self-assured presentation, "I'm lost right at the moment and not sure where or how this will resolve. But right now, this is all I have, and all I want." We lay still for a moment, and then she buried her face in my chest, sobbing uncontrollably. All I could do was hold her, smelling the scent of her hair, feeling the softness of her body pressed into mine and sensing her vulnerability. After some time, she fell into a deep sleep exhausted from the outpouring of raw emotion. I awoke in darkness feeling the softness of lips placing gentle kisses on mine and her still tear dampened hair on my face. Our arms and legs were intertwined. Jan's robe was partially open revealing only glimpses of her breasts, heaving with each deep breath she took. Raw passion was displayed on her face, and I almost mistook the moment for a dream. "Rick, make love to me... please." she whispered. "I need to feel you, and share us. I know this may seem awkward, and it the last thing I expected to ask of you tonight, but it is what I need right now more than anything." Jan opened her robe and pressed her body gently fully against mine. It felt natural but at the same time completely unexpected. Thoughts were swirling in my half awakened and confused state of mind. There was no doubt that I loved her, and wanted her as much as always, but considering the recent revelation and the moment, I wondered if this was the right thing to do. My thoughts were vanquished, when she unbuttoned my shirt, and loosened my belt and zipper, pulling my slacks free. Her fingertips grazed over my shorts, causing a familiar stirring. Even in the dim light, I could see her beauty, realizing that I had taken it for granted: and even dismissed our intimacy, allowing it to slowly slip into second place to business and family obligations over time. The reality of what I had and potentially what I had to lose was staring me in the face. I kissed her lips, gently at first, then firmly with lips parting and tongues darting. My kisses moved down her neck to each breast, suckling at her nipples and tracing the curve of her breast before returning to her lips. Jan rolled onto her back pulling me on top of her. I could feel her fingers surrounding and stroking the shaft of my dick to a full hardness before guiding it into her. Our bodies moved in unison, in a dance perfected by years of lovemaking, but obviously neglected in times of late. Our rhythm continued, peaking first with her trembling orgasm and then mine shortly thereafter. Afterward, our bodies melded deeply into the encompassing mattress. As I lay on top of her, I was brought back to the moment by her fingers tenderly playing with my hair. I opened my eyes and looked into her deep green eyes, looking back at me with tenderness, doubt and fear with tears silently streaming down her face. I started to speak, unsure of what to say, and thankfully she placed a single finger on my lips to keep the calm and quiet of the moment. Thank you." She whispered, and said no more, still running her fingers gently through my hair and over my face. I wondered if this was her way of saying "goodbye" or if it was our first step of reconciliation. There was no way to know for sure at the precise moment, and asked, "Do you want for me to stay here tonight? I can sleep on the couch, if that would make you feel more comfortable." Jan simply said, "Stay here, at least for the night. Please." I nodded, excused myself and went to the bathroom. When I returned, the bed was turned down, and Jan was asleep on her pillow, obviously exhausted from the outpouring of the day. Taking my place beside her, I fell asleep quickly in spite of the rumblings in my troubled mind. Daylight filtering through the curtains woke me after daybreak on this Saturday morning. I sighed, rolled over to see only the crushed pillow of a fitful sleep. I got up, slipped on my robe and followed the sounds and scents coming from the den. Gentle music was playing softly. Jan was curled up on the sofa, cup of coffee in hand, looking out into the open field beside our house, lost in thought. She heard me enter, smiled kindly and offered the space beside her. A nearly full carafe and an empty cup were on the nearby table. I sat beside her and poured a cup of coffee, settling back onto the sofa, feeling mixed emotions and expectations. "Killing your enemy with kindness?" I wondered to myself, taking the first sip of steaming coffee. Jan spoke first, announcing, "I have a book signing in Atlanta on Monday," which I already knew, "and originally planned to leave Sunday afternoon. There is a flight leaving at 2:00 p.m. today, and I have already made a reservation. It would do me well to leave early and clear my head, some time to think. I can spend a few minutes but must get ready soon. I'm leaving for the airport about 11:00. I hope you understand." I nodded, and looked towards her, "Thank you for the coffee and the kindness. I hope you have a good trip can enjoy some time for yourself. " Taking another sip, "kindness? Is that how a couple speaks to each other? This is so surreal." I mused, almost laughing at my feeble attempt to say something, when I really don't know what to say, as if speaking to a complete stranger. "Last night, "Jan started, "well, thank you..." and left the rest unspoken. Probably well enough. She continued, "We need to talk." Sensing my restlessness, and anticipation of another outpouring of accusation, "No, I mean we really need to 'talk', but not today." I nodded and she added, "I have extended my trip for a full week and will be returning Friday night. Andrew will be in school this week, which will take up most of his time. I left a note for him, and so no explanations are necessary." Ever the organizer, "So, if you'll excuse me, I need to get ready" Jan leaned over and kissed me softly on the cheek and walked toward the bedroom, leaving me alone in quiet thought on the sofa. I heard the shower, start then stop a few minutes later. I could smell the steam and scent of her shampoo, gentle reminders of what I would not enjoy in the next few days. She emerged from the bedroom dressed in business travel clothing and pulling her suitcase. "Bye" she said, pausing only for a moment without any fanfare and continued toward the garage. I sat on the sofa, watched her car pass in front of the house and fade out of sight on the country road. The house was quiet, except for the ticking clock on the mantle. It was quiet outside. Silence was not my friend today, nor would it be for the coming week. "Time to think." I said to myself out loud considering the jumble of thoughts swirling in my mind. "I wish I could just turn it off for a while. Let the dust settle. Then I could think," knowing that this was an inescapable predicament that really did require some sincere and heart searching thought. I found comfort in taking a long hot shower, slipping on my familiar but seldom worn jeans, shirt and boots. I felt the fresh surge of fall morning air, and the sunlight on my face as I went across the yard to the edge of a nearby field. Pressing past the manicured grass and into the brown native grasses of autumn I continued for more than an hour over one hill and then the next, stopping in the shade a small shady grove. Letting my mind go, I recalled events of the past summer, one after another including the events of the past 25 years, going back to our dating times, wedding day, the births of our children and various other personal milestones. I realized that the last 25 years were more than just events and calendar days, but instead monumental moments, memories in the lives of individuals, those who I love dearly, deeply. We Need to Talk "I'm glad we're spending some time tonight. I will probably be out for the evening tomorrow," she offered. "You know, meeting with friends and hanging out." "Oh." I feigned, to avoid any suspicion, and then curiosity got the best of me, "Have you heard anything from Natalie?" pausing for effect, and to see if it drew any obvious reaction. "She e-mailed me just the other day. She's been traveling in New York and Europe, and said that her time has been very rewarding." Megan continued, "Her major is Business with a minor in Human Relations." "Oh…" I replied, unsure if my tone was more a question that an acknowledgement. And "How rewarding, and for what reason?" I wondered to myself, speculating that the emphasis was probably very heavy on the "Human Relations" aspect of her "education". Leaving well enough alone, I stopped and allowed Megan to either continue the conversation or change topics, which she did… "More tea?" She asked as she stood and straightened her skirt. "I'm going to heat up the gas grille and start the vegetables. You just stay there and let me serve you, after all, you've worked so hard all day." She refreshed my glass, and I sat back watching her prepare the grille and work with fluid efficiency. Just then my cell phone rang, "Hello? Oh, hi Jan. How are you?" Suppose I was caught in a moment of lusty thought, and her voice brought me back to reality. "Oh yeah, everything is fine here. Megan is taking care of me and wants to prepare dinner tonight." Sensing a twinge of jealousy, I offered "Sure it's nice to be treated special but nobody can take your place, honey." Hoping that sounded genuine and not patronizing." Jan told me all about the meeting with her publisher and the events of the seminar. It was good to catch up with her and I looked forward to her return on Friday morning. She was enjoying the trip, but was also eager to get home. "Sure, hold on," and passed the phone to Megan as she walked back from the grille. After just a quick hello and update "Love you Mom, gotta go so I don't ruin dinner." Flipped the cell phone shut and handed it back to me. "Dinner is almost ready, would you like to eat inside? It's starting to cool off quick tonight. " she said, as I too felt the evening breeze taking on a slight chill. "Sure. Sounds good. Let me help. I'll bring in the glasses and light some candles." I offered. It was still to early to require lights, but the candles were a nice affect in the dining room. The table was set with simple plates and glasses, and steaming bowls of broccoli and rice were already on the table. Megan called from the patio to say that the salmon was ready, and told me to take a seat as she would be right in. Dinner was indeed quite a treat. It was difficult to say which I enjoyed more; the dinner or the company of a young bright and beautiful you woman. Really now, dinner was good, but paled in comparison to my delectable company. There were moments when I had to remind myself that I was her father and not her date. But the way that she doted on me and my every need, laughed at my jokes, and had that twinkle in her eye, all made it difficult to tell the difference. I helped her with dishes, continuing our animated conversation until the last dish was dried and the kitchen lights were turned off. Only then did I realized that it was almost 10 o'clock. I had enjoyed over four hours of her company. I was really beginning to realize how much I was captivated with her. It only seemed natural to offer a hug and thanks for the wonder evening, so standing in the darkened kitchen we shared a soft embrace. She made no effort to move as we stood body to body, and raised her face to meet mine. I pulled back a lose strand of hair and kissed her gently on the lips, lingering ever so slightly and then pulling away. It was only momentary, but it was electric. There is something about "chemistry" that knows no boundaries. I felt it and I knew she did too. And, even though it was evident, it took us both by surprise. Not wanting to seem obvious, we each loosened our soft embrace, allowing hands to linger and make a graceful withdrawal. "Good night Daddy" she offered, standing still in front of me, still face to face, only inches away. Her flush face and nipples raising the fabric of her top, offering evidence of unexpected arousal. "Good night Beauty" slipped out, but was accepted gladly with a blush and a demure smile, as a reminder of childhood memories. "See you in the morning." As we each went to our rooms for the night. I slept well, but morning bought a new and unusual set of circumstances. I had arranged for a meeting with my daughter at a hotel that evening. "How would I ever go through with it, and what would really happen? Would I confront her about her escort activities? Or, would I carry through with what my lustful heart was telling me to do? The coffee was on when I went into the kitchen. Pouring a cup, I pulled up a stool at the counter took a sip and let the strong aroma clear my thoughts. I heard Megan stirring down the hall and watched as she sauntered into the kitchen. Offering a cup her direction, "Mornin" and watched her start her morning sleepy routine. Megan was wearing the oversized shirt, top three buttons undone, and no bottoms. The shirt rode up to the top of her thighs. She continued in idle conversation and then started talking about her plans for the day, pausing to takes sips of the steaming coffee. I finished my coffee and placed the cup on the counter, knowing full well that I would return for some more in just a bit. Megan still seated on the stool, stretched out her arms and yawned, raising the hem of her shirt and revealing the curve of her naked buns. My gaze lingered, as did her pose, until she returned her hands to her lap, casually pulling down the hem of her shirt only slightly, but still displaying her tan thighs. "Stacy is coming by this afternoon to pick me up, and we're headed into town for the evening. I'll probably be home late tonight. So don't worry if I'm not home when you go to bed." she offered. "Well, have fun and be safe, " I replied, somewhat unsure of what else to say, knowing that she intended to meet "Andrew" for an encounter at a hotel. And added, "Maybe I'll find something new and different to do to entertain myself too, since you'll be gone." "Your mom will be home tomorrow." As an afterthought, or was it my conscience speaking out as a reminder. "Good. You know, I've really enjoyed my time with you this week… just the two of us. It's been really nice… I love you Dad." "Love you too." and bent over to kiss her on the forehead as I passed, leaving her behind, cradling another steaming cup of coffee at the counter. The morning flew by as I worked in the office at home. My thoughts were a jumble with anticipation of the evening. I made an on-line reservation at the Riverpointe Hotel with check-in time at 4. The website offered photos of the lavish suite. "So, you're really going through with it, eh? I questioned. Shortly after lunch, Megan stopped in to say that Stacy had arrived, and said that they were on their way into town. That was good timing. It allowed me to pack a few things and to get my mind prepared for the evening. I packed an overnight bag with my shaving kit, pajamas and … condoms… yes, condoms. "How many?" I wondered and almost laughed at myself for considering taking even more than one, but packed three. Checking messages one more time, I locked up the house and headed for the garage. The drive to town was fast. Very fast, as my mind was not at all on the trip, but instead played one possible scenario after another. Arriving at the hotel, I grabbed my bag from the back seat, handed the keys to the valet and entered the grand lobby to check in. "I should come here more often" admiring the ornate and vintage architecture as I made my way to the elevator to the 11th floor suite. Swiping my key in the lock and hearing the latch, I pushed on the door with more than a little anticipation and entered the lavish suite. Looking around as I hung up my clothes, my eyes were drawn to the king size bed with pillow mattress and five pillows at the headboard. A large mirror was positioned on the wall directly over the heavy, carved wooded headboard. A sofa was off to the left along with a couple of beckoning chairs. Looking back to the bed, thoughts of the evening began to occupy my mind. "Food." I thought. "You better eat or you're going to be in trouble," realizing that I had worked through lunch and was already becoming light-headed. Entering in her cell number, one other than her personal cell that I know, hesitated briefly and then entered a text with only the room number "1107" . Again, with my finger poised over the face of the phone, pushed "Send". Taking a moment to survey the room one last time from the doorway, I headed downstairs to the restaurant. It was only 5:30, but that would allow me time to eat a leisurely meal, have a drink, and shower well before 8:00. Returning to my room at 7:00, I slipped off my clothes and appraised my appearance in the mirror while waiting for the shower to warm up. Stepping into the shower, my second of the day, I closed my eyes and let the water run over my head for a few minutes before reaching for the soap. Paying special attention, I lathered the most intimate areas twice before rinsing and washing my hair. "You're going ahead with it aren't you? Asking a fateful question I already knew the answer to. Stepping out of the shower and seeing my half-erect cock in the partially steamed mirror, further answered any question of my intentions. I toweled off, and ran some warm water in the sink, opened my bag and took out a fresh razor. Somehow, concentrating during the shave helped to lower my level of arousal. Thank goodness. I slipped off the towel, dried my face and pulled on the pajama bottoms. "Shirt? I thought. Yes, the matching pajama top, and decided to forego any other clothing. Splashing on cologne careful to avoid too much, I opened the cabinet and poured a splash of Vodka, just enough to take off the edge, and took a seat in one of the oversized chairs. Glancing at the clock displaying 7:57, I wondered if she would really show. But my thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. I moved toward the door, and as an afterthought, slipped on a shirt, "Don't want to seem too obvious if things really don't go that direction. After all, it is going to be quite a shock to her. Well, to both of us I honestly admitted. One deep breath and then, "click" flipping the inside lock, turned the handle and pulled the door open. "Oh my" I gasped inwardly as I viewed the incredibly beautiful woman in front of me. "Daddy?" She said with widened eyes and a vanishing smile. Although she recognized me, she said it more as a statement of disbelief, hearing in her voice the hope that she was wrong, and had just met my double. Everyone has one somewhere in this wide world. "Why couldn't my double be there instead of me? I thought hopelessly. Seeing that her feet were frozen in place, "Come in." I offered still unsure if she would accept the offer, burst into tears in the hallway, or stand there awestruck. Fortunately, I saw one foot slide forward and then another until she was entirely in the room. I stepped back allowing the door to close, and felt an eerie silence, wondering if either of us had taken a breath yet. "Daddy?" she asked with trepidation, and some small level of composure, "What are you doing here?" I finally realized that she was in the room, and finally viewed her appearance. She was wearing a fitted turquoise dress, not too short, but slit on the sides to nicely complimented her long tanned legs and round hips. The v- neckline was also conservatively cut but the swell of her breasts rose above neck line. Her hair was loosely pulled up and glittering earrings hung nestled in the loose strands hair. "Daddy?" "Hi…. I bet that I am certainly the last person you would ever expect to see here," and left her to let that sink in. "We need to talk." I measured my breath and spoke deliberately. "Well, I need to explain, and would like to hear what you have to say for yourself" Was I ever glad that I put on the shirt. "Have a seat" and we both thankfully walked past the bed, selecting chairs. I sat on the edge of my chair with elbow on my knees and looked at the floor trying to think of how to start this conversation. Megan, sat uncomfortably on the edge of her chair, only moderately composed, with eyes also toward the floor. "Daddy, I don't know what to say…" "I started this, so suppose I better go first. I accidentally saw your e-mails earlier this week, and tried to be understating and respectful of your privacy, but couldn't help noticing the disturbing message subject,… and looked. I also looked at the website." "Tears started streaming, and through quivering lips, "Daddy, you must think I'm horrible. You and mom have been so good to me, and now you find out that I'm an escort… a high class prostitute." she blurted out. "I didn't mean for it to go this far, it just happened…" and thinking back to better times in the last few days, started to cry again "and I love you so much. You must think I'm horrible," as the tears continued to stream. "Megan," I tried to console her, but debated whether to touch her, "Probably not a good idea, " I thought. "Megan, I love you too, and would never think that way of you. Admittedly, I was shocked and disappointed, and still don't know what to think of this, but you must know I will always love you." I watched her shoulders heave, and felt the air rush out of her as she slumped into the chair. Still no comment. However, she did manage to force the beginnings of a smile. I seemed to sense her relief that this was finally in the open. "Even though I am disappointed, I feel like a sneak, getting you here under an assumed name rather than just confronting you about this, honestly as we've taught you to do." I was taking a strong dose of my own medicine as I spoke to her, as a dad. And continued, "But frankly, I also feel like a 'creep' for looking at the photos on the site, and letting you play into my hands to be here tonight." "I don't blame you, and in fact, I deserve this for deceiving you." "How long?" I started, out of curiosity and concern for how well I really knew my daughter. Without hesitation she spoke plainly, "About a year. A couple times at first, more as a thrill, but then much more later when I started making money. Lot's of money." She continued, " We heard about it from a girl in the dorm, and then Natalie and I decided to try it once, just for fun, and it went from there. We both have a number of clients and Regulars…" but quickly offered reassurance, "I still attend classes and keep up my grades." "I'm not sure how much I really want to know about this, but here we are, and in my mind I have a thousand questions…but where to start." Settling back into the chair, I raised my view and looked directly at her as I spoke, " What kinds of guys do you see? Are they nice? Has anyone ever hurt you? Do you plan to keep doing it. What about your friends? … Do you ever plan to meet a guy and settle down, and what will he think?… Jeesh!" Realizing that she was overwhelmed, "Sorry." She smiled again, a little bigger and settled back into the chair a little more. "Tell me in your own time." I offered, "I'm just glad that you didn't run away when I opened the door." Looking down at her own appearance, she gave me a second look, and as if she just realized, "Daddy, you're wearing pajamas." "Yeah. We DO need to talk." Looking at the empty glass on the table, "Would you mind if I pour something? I could use one, since we're going keep this going." "Sure, go ahead. I could use one too, please. I opened the cabinet, poured a drink for her and then re-filled my own. Offering the glass to Megan, I for a moment viewed her appearance, and then pushed the thought aside to focus on my conversation. " You know, I have a confession… I have never had dirty thoughts about you, and I've always treated you with respect. But when I read the e-mails and viewed the photographs, I got jealous, and then jealousy turned to arousal. Ever since then, the visions of your photos have been seared into my memory. Does that upset you? Please don't think of me as some pervert." "No, I never could think of you that way. I can't speak for you, but I have a good idea how you, or any other guy feels when they see photos like that. That is what the website is supposed to do." "Yeah, but still, I'm your dad." Waxing serious "I creep myself out" Megan started to laugh, ""You're being too hard on yourself. You're human. I mean the photos do their work to get the interest started. Look at how I'm dressed. I don't go out like this for just any old reason. I want to be noticed. I want to make a guy get…well, how can I delicately say this…interested." "Well it works. "I blurted out and caught myself, "No, I didn't mean it that way… Well, yeah, it does work. I am just disappointed that it worked on me… you know… that way." Megan shifted in her chair, stood and walked toward the bathroom, "I need to freshen up. I'm a mess after all those tears." And left me to sit alone, thinking what to do next. She returned after just a few minutes, looking lovely and refreshed as when she first arrived. "Do you mind?" looking down at the high heels. "They look uncomfortable." Looking at my own bare feet and then to hers "It's only shoes." thinking to myself how absurd it seemed to offer permission for my daughter to take off her shoes in front of me. "It's not as if she asked me to unzip her dress…Oh my… I set up a date with an escort, and she's in my room. Don't go there. " "What's wrong? You got a funny look on your face all of the sudden," as she placed her shoes beside the chair. "are you okay?" "Yeah. I'm fine." I said, and confessed, "This just seems so awkward. We're not strangers, and yet neither one of us has any idea what to do or say. "I don't get it. I mean I don't know if you expected me or someone else." I confided to her "I was expecting you, but when I opened the door, I would have given anything for it to be someone else." There was a mix between curiosity and fantasy. "So what would you have done if it was someone else?" she pressed. "I don't really know. I've never been in a situation like this before." "So when did you start thinking about meeting me?" "It was after I saw the first e-mail from that guy on Monday night." I confessed "That would explain." "What do you mean?" "You were acting kinda funny this week. Not weird, just not your usual comfortable self." "Well, you have to admit that one loses perspective with the information that I knew, and couldn't tell you." Megan confided, "I know. I knew that you were looking at me on the couch after rubbing in the lotion. You know, when my robe was open and you could see me. You've seen me before and never reacted like that. I understand why now." Expecting a reply but not receiving one, she asked, "So what are you thinking about?" I was lost revisiting the moment, the vision, in my mind. I didn't think much about it at the time, but now I'm not sure what to think or do." After an awkward silence, "I certainly didn't want to change our relationship, but with a revelation such as I had of your escort activities, it does have some affect on me."