0 comments/ 75577 views/ 7 favorites The Light By: Karenkay It appears that my wife bought a new comforter for our bed. It looks like red satin. Monica always loved red. It's her favorite color. I don't think she would mind if I lay on it for a while. I can barely see her in the shower with all that steam. Monica loves to take long showers. I could hear the water being shut off and the shower door sliding open. I smiled as I saw her hand reaching around the corner to grab the towel hanging from the door. I love seeing my wife when she is all wet. I remember on our honeymoon licking the little beads of water off her skin. It made her laugh as those beads turned to little bumps of pleasure. Monica lifted each silky long leg and carefully dried it with the towel. Her beautiful breasts were hanging down as she reached out to wipe off her lovely feet. Monica wrapped her long brown hair in the towel as she starred into the mirror. I better duck under something before she finds out, I'm here. Yes. I can see just as well under this bed. I have a good shot of my wife's adorable little rear end from this spot. I always teased her about the way it filled out her jeans. She wasn't so pleased with the way I told her that black men loved white women that had nice round butts. Monica's loverly long legs and her tiny little waist enhanced her shapely little butt. There were many times when I would walk into the bedroom and catch her laying naked on her tummy and climb on the bed and bit her little ass. I always told her it was my favorite part of her body. Monica was so proud of her beautiful large breasts that her girlfriends would always accuse her of having a breast job and she resented it. They were perfectly natural! Look! What is this I'm laying on under the bed? It's one of Monica's red brassieres. Wow. I can see the little tag. It states, forty-two double D. I can smell Monica's perfume. It's my favorite scent! The hair dryer is loud. Monica is bent over and combing out her long brown hair. Her titty's are jiggling as her arm moves as she combs out her hair. She must have shaven her pussy! It's so smooth and lovely the way it's gleaming in that bathroom light. I have an idea! I carefully got out from under the bed and opened Monica's lingerie drawer and searched for the red teddy I bought her on her last birthday. I draped the tiny little garment across the open drawer and got quickly back under the bed. I could see her applying her makeup. Yes. She's using the dark lipstick. It's the one that drives me insane! Oops. She's almost done! I have to hide! She's walking in here now! I can see her beautiful brown eyes. There. Monica found the open drawer open! I'm trying not to laugh as her face appears to be confused. Monica's holding the red teddy up and smiling. What's this? I see her crying! No. She stopped! Monica is wiping her eyes and trying to laugh. Yes! Monica is holding the teddy against her beautiful figure and starring into the mirror. Good! Monica's putting it on for me! She spins around and plays with the material around her hips. I always loved to see her wear it. Oh. God! I can see how her beautiful breasts are cradled in it's built in under wire. Monica has a lovely smile as she stares into the mirror. Her voice is crackling as she appears to be holding back from crying. My wife is trying to laugh as she looks into the mirror. "I know you're here, John. I'm wearing this for you!" Oh my God! I hope she doesn't catch me under here! On no! Monica just sat down next to the bed! She is putting on a pair of red high heels. I can see her long little fingers buckling the tiny strap on one of the shoes. That's strange! I don't see her engagement ring or wedding band on her finger! Maybe she took it off before she took a shower! I never knew my wife took off her rings when she showered! I better keep myself hidden under here before she finds out I've been snooping on her. The phone is ringing and she is going out to answer it. I wonder who may be calling this late? I could hear Monica talking. She was telling the person she would see them in five minutes. Why was Monica inviting someone to our house so late in the evening for? I was ready to take a shower and change my clothes for her. Maybe we could drink wine and light a few candles and just have a romantic evening together. Just the two of us! I better stay hidden. She is coming back into the bedroom. She is lighting the candles for us. Maybe whoever it was on the phone was just dropping by to give her something. Maybe it was Jessica? Bill and Jessica are our best friends. We knew them since college. They got married in double ceremony with us five years ago and only lived about a mile away. I laughed. Jessica and Bill are a black couple and I remember seeing the church divided with black people on one side and white on the other side. The doorbell just rang. Monica finished lighting the candles and hurried out of the room to get the door. "Monica! Put something on! You can't answer the door wearing just that little teddy!" Monica ignored me! I could hear her talking to someone. She was laughing and his voice was deep. Maybe she had a robe out there on the sofa that she put on before going to the door. Someone was walking this way! I better hide somewhere! I'll stand in the bathroom until they leave! I better hide in the shower! It was my best friend, Bill! He was taking off his shirt and pants and slipping off his shoes now. He was wearing a satin pair of boxers'! They were a bright red color! That was my wife's favorite color! Bill was peeing in the toilet. I could see the steady stream squirting into the bowl. God. He was built very hugely! I never saw him naked before! Was that thing real? How could Jessica take anything that huge inside her? He must be eight inches long and as think as my wrist! He slipped out of the boxer's and began washing off. His testicles resembled a large sack with tennis balls inside it. He pulled the boxer's back around his waist and starred into the mirror and waked out of the bathroom. His clothes laid piled on the bathroom floor! He didn't get dressed! What if my wife were to see him wearing only his red satin boxer's? I could hear someone in the bedroom. I tiptoed out of the shower and peeked into the bedroom. Oh my God! Bill and my wife are sitting on the bed kissing! He has his arms around her and she is running her fingers through his hair as they kiss. It's a passionate kiss and I can see his tongue probing inside her mouth. Monica is cheating with my best friend, Bill! Where is Jessica?! Why doesn't she know about this? I need to call her and let her know what they are doing! I retrieved our cell phone out of Monica's purse that was sitting on the bathroom counter. I dialed the number. That was strange! I could hear a cell phone ringing in our bedroom. I must have dialed his number instead of Jessica's. I peeked back into the bedroom and saw Bill holding his cell phone. "Monica. That's so strange. I've had that happen a lot lately." Bill put the phone on the night stand and continued to kiss and fondle my wife. She stood and lifted the red teddy over her head as Bill pulled off the red boxer's and lay on our bed! I peeked again and saw Monica kneeling over Bill dangling her tits across his chest as she kissed his face. She started kissing her way down toward that huge black shaft until she took her delicate white fingers and wrapped them around its girth. Monica began to suck it. She was lovingly sucking on that huge black cock. I got down on my knees and crawled into the bedroom. I was hoping they wouldn't hear me as I crawled near the edge of the bed. I slowly raised my head and starred right into her face. My wife's beautiful lips were wrapped tightly around that huge head. I watched Monica lift her body enough to slid her head down its length until she had it deep into her throat. She slowly backed off, leaving a trail of her saliva around the head and licked it back off poking her tongue into the opening. My wife was being unfaithful with my best friend! I lifted my head until I was only a few feet from her face until she stopped what she was doing and starred directly into my eyes. My eyes met hers as she froze for a few seconds. I starred at the way her lips remained stretched around his shaft then she continued to suck that big black cock. She didn't care if I was there! It was if I was invisible! Could that be the reason she wasn't wearing her rings tonight? She didn't love me any longer! They were moving around on the bed and I poked my head above the mattress again only to see my wife about to mount her tight pussy on that huge cock. She was straddling him and he was sucking on her tits as she reached back behind her and stroked his big cock. Monica was moving the huge head along the slight of her wet pussy and eased herself down until he slipped inside her. Monica moaned as Bill held onto her ass and began lifting himself and easing his cock into her. Monica finally sat on his legs. I could see her delicate pussy lips stretched out like a tight rubber band. He held her ass tight and began to bounce her on his shaft. His shaft gleamed from the wetness of my wife's pussy as he slammed it deep inside her belly. They were both moaning and whispering now as he held my wife's round ass in his black hands. They were switching places and he was above my wife now as her legs wrapped around his big thighs. He was rocking himself around, stretching her pussy out with that big pole! Bill was slamming into my wife with all his strength causing the mattress to sag in to center with each thrust he made into Monica. Her ass cheeks were quivering as she yelled out that she was going to cum. Bill kept laboring as he slammed into Monica and grunted and groaned and shouted out that he was going to cum. He took a few last strokes and finally held himself deep and very tight inside my wife. "Darling. I can feel it!" Bill stayed above Monica for several seconds as they kissed and finally pulled out leaving Monica's pussy gaped wide open with his puddle of sperm gobbed at the entrance. He was holding her legs high in the air and inserted the big head into her pussy opening and shoved himself deep inside her. Oh my God! He was pushing that potent sperm back inside her belly! "He wants to make sure she becomes pregnant this time!" I turned around and saw Jessica kneeling behind me! "Jessica! What are we going to do? Your husband and my wife! They're lovers!" Jessica took hold of my hand and smiled. She was beautiful. Her dark eyes seemed to have that glow to them and her smile soothed me. "John. We have to leave now!" "What do you mean, leave?" "We have to go into the light!" I looked across the room and saw the bright light shining down. It was all coming back to me. Jessica and I had run out to buy a few things for our picnic together while Bill and Monica waited for us near the pool. It had just rained that day and a truck drove on my side of the road and when I swerved to miss it, we went over that railing. "What about my wife and your husband, we can't leave them here?" "They'll be fine. You'll see Monica very soon. I promise! We'll get things ready for that picnic we never had until they come!" Jessica took my hand as we walked toward the light. I stared back and saw them looking our way and wondered if they could see us. We both turned and walked into the light together. I knew that soon we would all be together again. The Light At the Beginning On a hot and muggy Monday night in early August Jerry stood naked looking out over his balcony and saw the light for the first time. Way out there close to where the mangrove gets lost in the horizon it bobbed up and down like a beacon to a ship. In the distance it looked to be a luminescent green but it could also have been blue. Jerry stared at the light; squinting then opening his eyes wide to bring it better into focus. He had no idea what such a light might be and no conscious curiosity about its source. It could be a light on a boat. It could be the beam of a light shining somewhere deep in the swamp or the reflection from a distant star bouncing off the waves. The light grew brighter and bigger the longer Jerry stood and stared. Jerry felt something tugging in his belly that he mistook for hunger. He walked to the edge of the veranda down the three flights of stairs to the kitchen in the soft semi-darkness of the night. But when he got to the kitchen he did not stop in front of the refrigerator where he had intended to go for something to eat. He went instead to the door leading out to the garden and stepped from the silent darkness of the sleeping house into the lively noisy darkness of the night. The crescent sliver of a moon shone weakly through the canopy of palmettos and moss-covered oaks and tall magnolias but it was enough to let Jerry see the path through the flowerbeds and the outline of the arched gate separating the garden from the dunes. Jerry followed the path through the garden and out toward the beach. When he reached the top of the dunes he saw the light again. A gentle breeze carried away the mugginess of the night and brought in its place the smell of the sea and the sound of the waves rapping a summons against the shore. He walked on the narrow wooden footpath from the dunes to the beach, memory guiding his feet on the beaten boards. On the beach Jerry felt the same feeling in his gut and looked for the light. He saw it between the beach and the start of the mangrove on the spit of land just before the inlet where the Kiawah River flows into the Atlantic Ocean. It looked closer now than when he had first spotted it from the veranda. For a moment he thought he saw it moving toward him, but when he looked again, he decided it was not. The tide was out; the beach deserted. Jerry went down a long way, almost to the water's edge and then turned to walk on the cool moist sand toward the light. He walked in a smooth steady gait, relaxed by the sea and soothed by the breeze. He passed the villas in West Village and the condominiums farther back but they were too far from the beach to break the silence of the night or otherwise distract him from the light. He walked on in silence – a silence not broken even by his own thoughts. He had no conscious awareness of anything but the light and the growing emptiness in the pit of his stomach. In some vague and gauzy reality his mind had associated the light with the feeling of hunger in his belly but not enough to force Jerry to contemplate the connection or give words to his imagination. He walked and walked. The light shone brighter and brighter. Then the emptiness in his stomach began to dissipate and a warm glow to spread from his belly in all directions. The sand beneath his feet felt suddenly warm and the breeze became a warm and cozy blanket. He stopped and closed his eyes. The light still shone brightly as before and he could see, even with his eyes shut tight, that it was neither green nor blue but white. And with his eyes shut he began to see other things: Pamela walking down the beach toward him in a flowing gown of pink with her nipples pressing hard against the thin material and her thighs defined by the light beneath the sheer cloth in the gentle breeze; Anthony running full tilt against the wind, his little arms and legs churning frantically in rhythm, sweat streaming down his sunburned back; Elaine on a swing cutting patterns in the air with her petticoats and pigtails, holding a Barbie by the leg, upside down against the chain; Tippy chasing a squirrel; Dr. Morris sitting on the edge of his desk, reading intently from a chart, brow furrowed, lips pursed; Pamela again, this time reclining on one elbow, totally nude except for a thin blue velvet ribbon around her pretty neck. Jerry felt himself being shaken and heard Pamela saying his name with an urgency bordering on panic. "Jerry! Jerry, wake up! Breathe! Jerry! Jerry! He struggled to get his eyes open against the strong light. The light was so intense it hurt to keep his eyes open. He tried and tried and finally he managed to open and hold one eye until the light began to fade and recede to a dot somewhere against the wall. And still he could hear Pamela saying "Jerry, Jerry. Wake up." He was lying in his bed when he awoke, with Pamela holding him against her. She felt like home as she always did and her scent was the same familiar fragrance of strawberries and soap and sexiness and sweat. She was naked and felt to Jerry like a warm velvet doll. Her breasts where they rubbed against his arm were feathery light but the urgency in her voice and the tension in her body denied Jerry the pleasure of beginning again what they had finished just before he fell asleep. It was often like this – their lovemaking. Jerry or Pamela, or sometimes both would fall into deep sleep after being sated and then wake fully aroused to start again. But tonight he sensed her tension and knew tonight was different. Jerry wondered if he should tell Pamela about the light. Had it been just a dream? And should he tell her about the other thing. Of course, he had to tell her. The only question was how and when. It had to be done quietly, calmly and with dignity. It should not come in maudlin, melodramatic outbursts that both he and Pamela would later regret. And it would not help to magnify the horror with a gloomy, somber treatment. They should be able to talk about it. Like they talked about everything else. The options should be clearly outlined and the possible outcomes carefully thought through. The probabilities of each of the possible outcomes should be clearly understood. Positive and negative factors had to be considered. He was not ready. He had to tell her, but not right now. He had not studied the whole situation in all its various combinations and permutations. Perhaps he should look for a second opinion, or even a third or fourth. Jerry himself did not fully believe it. No it truly was not time yet. He was not ready. Pamela released her hold on him and pushed away gently. She rubbed the curls on his bare chest as she spoke, like a child playing with a furry kitten. "You scare me when you quit breathing like that, Jerry." "I'm sorry," said Jerry, "I never mean to alarm you." "You have to tell Doctor Morris that it is getting worse. One of these days I am not going to notice in time and you are going to …" She stopped herself from saying it. She rolled over to her side and turned her head so Jerry could not see her tears. She had been truly worried. "I'll tell him. Don't worry for now. Okay?" Jerry said in a tone more somber than he intended. "Promise you'll make an appointment first thing tomorrow," Pamela said. "Yes. I promise." "Oh Jerry," she said, " I just don't know what I would do without you." "It's okay. We're fine now," Jerry said. He hated lying to her, but he did not know what else to say. He was not ready. They repositioned themselves on the queen bed to lie side-by-side holding hands. The bed was up against the wall opposite the sliding glass doors that opened to the veranda of their third floor bedroom. The sheers in the open doorway billowed and swayed with the breeze as the room breathed in a rhythm of its own. A whip-poor-will cried somewhere in the garden and crickets chirped in harmony with those tiny frogs and their giant voices. They lay there in the quiet comfort of the night. Jerry with his secret festering in his chest and Pamela with hers ripening in her womb. Jerry felt Pamela's fingers relax and heard her breathing grow smooth and regular as she fell deeper into sleep. It was one more in a long list of familiar patterns, seemingly trivial things, which were the anchors of his life. In the dark he could only imagine her expression as she slept with her cherry lips turned up at the corners in a sleepy smile. God, he loved that smile. Loved everything about her, for that matter. In the morning he would tell her. For now he would just enjoy lying here next to her, listening to her breathe, sharing. It had started out as a mild heartburn. Or so he had thought at first. A tightening in his chest would well up like a burp that he could not quite bring up and out. He had started watching what he ate, avoiding spicy stuff, drinking lots of water, cutting down on alcohol. And still the pain persisted, got stronger, more intense. He had seen Doctor Morris and at his request, the heart specialist, Doctor Bledsoe. EKG's, stress tests and laboratory work had ruled out a problem with his heart. And the pain grew stronger. More tests. And finally, yesterday, the oncologist's report: It's the big one. It's in the pancreas but it has metastasized. It's incurable. Three months without treatment, possibly up to six months with aggressive radioactive and chemotherapy. Jerry had not told Pamela about the "heartburn" and his trips to the doctor's office. He had wanted to know before he talked to her about it. Secretly he had thought it would turn out to be an ulcer and Pamela would make him give up wines, which were his second passion. But now he did know and he knew he could not keep the truth from her for long, even if he wanted to. In their thirteen years of marriage, Jerry had always conferred with Pamela on any decision that had even a slight potential to affect their lives. The few times he had made decisions without her input he had immediately felt guilty and disloyal. He had learned over the years to trust her judgment. She knew how to listen, when to speak up and when to hold her peace. Often just talking things over with her made it easier for him to see how things could work. This was different, of course. It was his decision. Only he could say he wanted to accept the treatment. Only he could say no, he did not want it. It was up to him. Three months or six, heads or tails, call it in the air. Three months. September, October, November, he could make it to his birthday. Or, the other way, he could make it through December, like that song by Merle Haggard. He could see another Christmas. And that would be a hell of a Christmas, with everyone tiptoeing around not wanting to say anything that might remind him of his condition. But the condition would be so pervasive by then it would be screaming to be noticed. Jerry knew a little about the treatment and what a wreck it makes of the body. He remembered how Doctor Morris had described it. "You kill off a lot of good cells with the bad and hope that enough of the good ones survive to keep you alive. I'm sure someday in the future medical experts will wonder at the barbaric approaches we use the same way we look at the practice of blood-letting practiced during George Washington's day." "But medical science has made such advances in diagnosis and treatment. You read about it every day," Jerry objected. "In some areas yes. In others we are no better off than we were decades ago," Doctor Morris said. "And in your case. We're late." "But how? Why" "Ironically, your good health and even your youth worked against us," said Doctor Morris. "We had no reason to suspect something like this was going on. We did no tests. You're not even old enough for us to worry about your colon or your prostrate. It caught us flat footed." "And we're sure that's what it is?" Jerry did not believe it. "We're sure." And there it was. Just like that. His life was over. Thirty-six in November. Shit. No more vacations. No more playing with his kids on the beaches of Kiawah. No more midnight strolls in the warm surf. No more kids. Kids. Jerry and Pamela had trouble making babies. Anthony had been a long time coming. They were well into their third year of trying before he was conceived and Elaine another three. Another five years had gone by and they were still trying. For both of them it was tremendous fun trying and they joked about it all the time. Still, he wished they could have had the kids closer together. And now there would be no more. Shit. He tried to think about the years ahead for his business. Who will take over all those chores that only he knew how to do? Who will coddle the employees and smooch up to the customers, arm wrestle with the bank, beat the suppliers at their own silly games? Good questions, all. But his mind was not really ready to deal with them. He kept coming back to Pamela. Who will take care of Pamela? Who will hold her when she is being silly and needs a hug for no reason? Will the insurance be enough to keep her going? Is Anthony going to college? And what about Elaine? Is it better to stay alert to deal with these issues for three months? Or should I start the treatment and take a chance that I'll be able to think rationally for six? His last thoughts were "I can't put this on Pamela. I have to decide for myself." And then he closed his eyes and felt a sudden hunger and saw the light again.