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Unexpected Relief Ch. 01

By: tendermindholes



I sat there like a stone, trying to let the bubbling life of the cafe just flow around me as I sipped at what was now a lukewarm mocha. I was equally lukewarm about my current task- to write an analysis on the specious, clumsily written article arguing that Creationism should be banned from all public school curriculum in the name of scientific freedom and free speech. I really didn't care about Creationism, I just thought it was a poorly written article. Unfortunately, regardless of my own personal opinion on the subject, it had to be a critique that wasn't be too critical because my English professor had Richard Dworkin's snooty atheistic cock so far down her throat you'd think he was Jon Bon Jovi and she was some big-haired soccer mom from Jersey trying to relive her glory days of 1988. It was a shitty assignment from a shitty teacher on a shitty subject and forcing myself to care about it, let alone anything else took what little energy I had.

It was a choice between being here- a place full of people, or being home alone in my townhouse. I knew if I tried to study at home, I would have just found a million distractions. Despite the clinking of cups and dishes, the rasping grinding of the coffee, the sucking whoosh of the milk steamer and the various little bleats, blips and chimes coming from both the cafe employees and my fellow customers with their myriad devices and conversations. It was still more peaceful here than at home. 

When it came down to it, I only had one true distraction, and she was more than enough. The accusative silences and jarring, repetitive memories were near deafening at home. I saw her face, heard her voice, recalled moments tied to songs, movies and just random happenstance everywhere and and everyone was sharp enough to cut like a razor. Her name had been Janette. I speak of her in the past tense even though she is still alive. Well, just not anymore for me. We had dated for almost two years, and it hadn't worked out. 

That's putting it simply. These things always seemed to be stated too simply, especially when everyone with a pair of eyes and ears could see and hear that it was anything but. It wasn't for my lack of trying that we weren't together anymore. A friend had suggested that perhaps it was because I tried too hard. I'm still not sure. As much as I wish I could forget it, I remember the day our relationship, and my future, had come crashing down around me with unflattering clarity.

It had been a long, brutal day at school, I had finals, something that comes as both a relief and strain. As often happens, my end-exam schedule was a bit different, so I would get out earlier than I normally would. I rushed home so I could surprise her by cooking her favorite dinner; Shrimp Scampi on a bed of Risotto, a hand-made arugula salad, served with fresh-baked bread from our favorite little local bakery and a bottle of the Chardonnay we had picked up on a trip to a Napa winery together right around when we first met. I was looking forward to a wonderful night with my fiance eating good food, drinking great wine, curling up together to watch one of the French films she loved so much and I had learned to appreciate, capped off by a night of love-making, (if she wasn't too tired or down with a headache, which happened during times of heavy stress.) 

That sounded like a more than suitable reward for our hard work during the semester. I was (and still am) hard at work on my Master's degree, in the hope I could teach grammar and vocabulary to the uninspired- and if I was very lucky, the joy of writing to those select few who could be while earning a decent living and tenure. To make ends meet, in addition to the various grants and loans, I tutored my fellow students. It was enough for Janette and I to afford a two bedroom townhouse in the mid-town area, not too far from the University. I would have preferred an apartment, it would have been cheaper, but she made the convincing case that she needed a downstairs for entertaining, and I wanted to make her happy. We had only been living together for a few months, but it was a big milestone for me, this was the first relationship I've ever had that reached anywhere near this level of serious. Janette had exes, and had lived with a few of them- yet another difference between she and I. 

I always felt awkward around women and Janette was so beautiful, smart and gifted not to mention naturally charming- a great catch by any measure. She was tall and slender, delicate as a living doll. Everything about her was gorgeous, from the tips of her toes, to her heart shaped face and her hair, long, wavy and lustrous, like the color of buckwheat. I thought her best feature though, by far, were her eyes which were large and green like emeralds. I loved the way they sparkled when she smiled and laughed, how they grew shiny when sad or how the smouldered with lust. My own eyes were blue, some have described them as "icy." I was hoping our children would have her eyes.

Being with Janette made me feel like the luckiest man in the world. Our schedules were hectic and full, and our relationship, like anybody else's had it's rough spots. These were mostly due to both of us being so busy, as well as being very different from from one another. It often felt like we were speaking two very different languages from one another, and she would often, at great length, let me know how it would frustrate her as well. Regardless of the occasional bit of turbulence and misunderstanding, I loved knowing that I had her to come home to. No matter what was going on in my life or how I was feeling, be it sadness, stress, fear, anger or joy- I knew I had someone so lovely, passionate and creative waited for me at home to share it with. I knew that even though she was a free spirit, one with her own free mind and will that Janette loved me, knew that I loved her we both wanted the same thing for each other- a life where we could have a career pursuing what we were passionate about and start a beautiful, loving family. As cliched as it was to say, she was the wind beneath my wings, and I was her rock.

That night she was supposed to be working a bit of overtime with her Art History professor Peter (no last names for this guy, he wasn't a square like that). I had met him several months ago after Janette raved to me for a week. By the way she spoke about him, you'd think he was the the lovechild of Jesus Christ and Patty Guggenheim. Try as I did to be a mature adult about the situation, found myself not liking him. It was irrational, I had thought, and my reasons both Janette and I had dismissed as silly.

Peter stood taller than I did, and he was older, more experienced, but still somehow young and vivacious for a tenured professor of his stature. He always seemed to smirk at me as if he was laughing at some private joke, most likely at my expense. Lastly, he always stood so uncomfortably close to Janette, and seemed so casually intimate with her. It caused roiling black tendrils of jealousy to coil in my gut but I constantly fought them back, because Janette, or the people in her life, shouldn't have to pay for my unreasonable jealousy. It was my insecurity, my issue.

I was setting out the ingredients and getting things ready to make dinner, all carefully pre-planned out ahead of time. I heard a loud thump upstairs. Alarmed, I hurried upstairs, if Janette was home, she would have told me- she wasn't due to be home for at least another hour and fifteen minutes. When I opened the door to our bedroom, I was finally let in on Peter's private joke- only I didn't find it amusing in the slightest. I opened the door to discover Janette's pretty face buried into the same pillow cases we had picked them out the week we got this place together- a silly little ritual of domestication that I admit now, I had enjoyed immensely. It's funny what you think about during times like these. I remember how that set of bedding was more than I wanted to pay, but I conceded because she had made the argument "We're going to be using them for both rest and PLAY, don't you want them to be able to hold up, stud?" 

I had always hated it when she called me "stud", but I didn't say anything about it, because I didn't know why it had bothered me at the time. Something about the word and the way she used it seemed so very chintzy. Her teacher, the one she told me again and again that I had no reason to be jealous of, was fucking her on that same set and she moaned and mewled "Oh Peter, you do that the best....oh fuck...You fucking STUD!"

I remember feeling pole-axed, my guts turning to ice water as I stared in disbelief and shock as echoes of a conversation Janette and I had on that very bed rattled through my brain like shrapnel, in concert to the creaking squeals of the bed frame. "Why don't you trust me? What about all those pretty young girls you tutor?" 

I had tried to get her to understand why these things were different,"I haven't ever flirted with them, let alone flirted in front of you. Not to mention, I haven't eaten dinner at their houses without anyone else there!"

"How can I trust you if you don't trust me?" She would say in that convoluted, crazy Janette logic of hers, that always seemed so reasonable at the time. Her tone would take on this injured tinge and her large green eyes shining in hurt and frustration," This isn't the Fifties anymore- I'm not some piece of chattel!"

I had conceded, again, like I did three dozen times before with the pillows, the townhouse and a multitude of other things- because I loved her and a man should be able to trust the woman he loved. 

"Of course she loved me," I had told myself afterward. I didn't want my own silly insecurities over some old bohemian artist poison the love I had for the woman I was going to make my wife.

"Trust..." That was the only word I could get out at the time, as my fiance and her professor fucked on our bedset, her knees padded by the quilt my mother had made us for our first anniversary. I chewed on that word, it was so lumpy, bilious and bitter in my throat that I nearly choked. Still ignorant to the fact they were no longer alone, Peter blithely thrust into Janette again and again, I can still see clearly in my mind's eye his back hair speckled with grey. his hand dappled liver-spots, paint and clay as it firmly gripped the thick, buckwheat tresses of the woman I wanted to be the mother of my children. 

Here was this man, married, with children of his own and a pretty young wife, about the same age as Janette. Her name was Victoria, if I recalled- I had met her at one of the snooty artiste parties Janette liked to drag me to. I wondered why Peter's pretty young wife, who was about Janette's age, looked at my girlfriend with such angry bitter eyes and why some of the other artists titter behind their hands at me- yet more people other than myself who knew the hilarious punchline to Peter and Janette's secret joke. Now, I can't help but realize what a tremendous capacity for cruelty Janette had in dragging me to those parties. 

I remember thinking as I stood there like some stone sentinel to my own betrayal, "How much did this man need? He had a wife who loved him, children (Janette had been quick to remind me several times when I mistakenly said child)- and a good career. Why did he have to take the woman and the life I had worked, planned and risked so much for?"

With that, Janette climaxed on our bed making high, sounds in a melody that was in stark contrast to Peter's absurd grunts and wheezes. Impotently, I watched as she turned around to regard him, her green eyes large with bliss and adoration. I couldn't help but notice the contractions of her slick, shaved sex milking the dregs of cum from his cock. She wasn't wearing a condom, apparently. She always made me wear one so we didn't have any "accidents" before we were ready. Janette saw me now- my hands gripping a pasta spoon like a drowning man would hold onto a buoy, my knuckles white, my muscles tensed and she let out a guilty, shocked gasp as she continued to involuntarily shudder from her recent orgasm.

Her mentor looked back at me like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. Blinking twice, he replaced that with a slick mask of arrogant entitlement as he slowly pulled out of my love with a wet, sickening sound. It sounded eerily similar to the same sound a dagger would make when pulled out of raw meat- or in this case, my heart.

"Hun...let me explain" Janette had said, small, delicate pink tongue slicking against lips swollen with lust, her large, green eyes full of fear at being discovered and something else I couldn't quite place.

I just stared at her, my powers of speech robbed from me. I could feel my heart thundering in my chest, as I helplessly looked at her body, unable to unsee her lithe, pale flesh flushed from fucking, the lips of her pussy still wetly glistening and dripping with another man's spend.

She had tried to cover herself with the same quilt my mother had made us, as if that would prevent me from seeing what was happening, could undo the destruction her betrayal and lies had caused to us.

"EXPLAIN WHAT?" My voice cracked and throbbed of it's own volition, my vision blurred with tears and rage, it was hard to see anything but red.

"Look- there is no need to yell," Peter's voice took on this placid, condescending tone like I was a student that didn't agree with his expert opinion on post-modernistic interpretation. Was this beatnik, progressive, granola crunching piece of shit actually trying to talk to me as if I was just some unruly student? Was he trying to lecture me like I wasn't the guy who just witnessed him fucking my fiance in my own house? My eyes were blue and hard as he squatted on my bed like some kind of bohemian jackal over a scavenged kill- his lean, wiry body still dripping with his sweat and the juices of the woman I loved,"We can talk about this like rationa...."

I didn't let him finish that thirteenth word. Instead, I hit him. Then I hit him again, then again and again. I always had been strong, and when I was a boy I had been taught how to box by my uncle. Janette had always considered fighting and violence to be such a brutish thing, but now, gauging by the big red hand prints on her slender, pale ass, I could tell she didn't mind brutishness as much as she had said she did.

I hate to admit it- even now, but it felt so very good, his face, no longer so smug, yielding to my fists. Though I loved writing and the written word, this was the best and only way I could communicate what needed to be conveyed at that moment.

"No...Peter!" Janette had leaped at me, frantically trying to push me off of her mentor, who was curled up in a fetal position, trying to guard himself from my heavy, angry blows. In that moment, I saw in her eyes who it truly was she loved, who she actually cared for. I think that hurt as much as anything could, that stark, absolute epiphany that it wasn't, and never was, me.

I'm not proud of what I did next, in fact I still wake up in a cold sweat from the nightmares caused by me replaying that moment in my mind. Janette had grown up in an abusive household. Her father was an engineer, a very intelligent man, but one who also drank and had a horrible temper. I was always careful to keep my tone down, to never yell at her. It scared her so badly. When we argued (and that we did), I did my best to keep my voice even and calm like a human metronome, rather than an equal participant in the argument, doing my best keeping it in a sane and sound rhythm in my voice, in my head and in Janette and I's relationship.

I felt her small hands trying to push me off of her lover as if I was the intruder into our house, and in her eyes I saw absolutely not one drop of any true regret for what she had done, but rather, only concern for the man who had made me a cuckold. That concern overpowered even the panic of getting caught and fear of seeing her lies brought to light my rage reached a new crescendo. I backhanded Janette with my large, heavy hand, more suited to labor than holding a pencil and struck with knuckles already broken open upon her lover's face. I can still hear that sharp report of my hand meeting her delicate face in a fellow student slamming down a book, or someone shutting a door too hard. For a moment, her tall lithe body lay in the corner of our room, crumpled and twisted and twisted. Despite everything that happened, my first instinct was to go to her, afraid that I had broken something. She pulled herself up by one pale arm and regarded me with burning venom. Eyes that had been filled with such tenderness for me were replaced by fear and hate, shining with tears that mixed with the a trail of blood caused by an abrasion from either my fist or her hitting the wall.

"All my friends were right about you!" She said, as if this act justified her repeated betrayal." You're just a brute, nothing but a fucking brute!"

I sank into the bed, I felt so numb and tired, everything felt so heavy.

"Go." After a few tense moments that seemed a lifetime, that one word was all I could bring myself to say.

"What?" Janette said, her voice hard- she was afraid, but she always got indignant when she knew she had done something wrong. I knew, that in her mind, she had already whitewashed this scene, repainting herself as the victim and Peter as the sympathetic, understanding savior that was comforting her through the rigors of life, a hard home life, and living with an uptight, controlling were-beast that lost control in his jealousy. Despite Janette's betrayal and delusions, I wasn't innocent in this either. There were so many signs I had ignored, so many red flags my few, but loyal friends had tried to warn me about. I know, that no matter what she had done, nothing excused what I did.

But it still wasn't fair, I had put up the money for the deposit, I had paid most of the bills. I didn't have much but I spent wisely. Janette, despite having a stipend from rich parents and the same scholarships, loans and grants I did, was so wasteful with her money. I didn't play with her heart and mind, I didn't humiliate her for my own amusement, I didn't play games with her head and heart, and I didn't fuck anyone else behind her back, I didn't betray her. No. I had always conceded before, but I wasn't going to now- not anymore. She was going to be the one to leave. She could sort that out with Peter and Victoria and his two (not just one!) children, Janette wasn't my problem anymore.

"Don't make me ask you again Janette." Though exhausted, my voice had steel too it that surprised the both of us. 

Peter moaned pitiably on the floor and I resisted the urge to kick him. It was easier to no longer be violent, my rage had cooled into a kind of numbed shock.

Janette quickly put on a robe, and called her best friend, Tanya. 

Tanya hated me- seeing me as some controlling patriarchal conservative who wanted to subjugate women. She had gone as far as openly saying so to others, that I was wrong for a free spirit like Janette. Her open derision towards me rankled, but I did my best to be respectful because she was Janette's friend- though I knew she had nothing nice or considerate to say about me.

I remember hearing the commotion downstairs as I just sat there, deflated, numb and bloody on the edge of the bed, not all that far from a wet spot that Janette and Peter had made. I couldn't help but wonder how many spots like this have been made before that I unknowingly slept on? How many times did I nearly miss there indiscretions, how many exasperated pleas of "Just trust me!" did I swallow on this bed?

I could still smell the scent of her familiar sex, now made dishonest by mixing with peter's intrusive alien one. I also couldn't forget the scent of blood- Peter's, Janette's and mine. I stared down at my knuckles, scraped raw and red for what must have been an hour.


Unexpected Relief



Yet another story idea given to me from LiveJournal and edited by Blackwing.

*****

'My darling boy,' Martha sat on the edge of the bed Rick shared with his wife, her adult son snoring gently. The effects of his food poisoning had left him bedridden, his body weak and requiring constant bed rest. Martha's fingers threaded between Rick's as she leaned over and kissed his forehead.

Rick was recovering slowly, the IV line in his arm replacing what he'd lost, his weight having dropped dramatically during the week-long illness.

A thud from the en-suite took the matriarch's attention away from her son. Squeezing his hand she stood and approached the bathroom, the sound of annoyed muttering reaching her ears. Stepping into the doorway, Martha stood motionless at the sight before her, her mouth open to speak but her words forgotten.

Before her stood Kate Castle, the woman leaning against the edge of the large built in tub, naked as the day she was born. Kate's face was scrunched closed, her mouth moving rapidly as she muttered. One hand braced her against the tiles, while the other lay on her extended stomach as she hammered her fingers into her pussy.

'Fucking fucking...' Kate growled, 'Stupid motherfucking cook. Moronic little cocksucker. Fuck you for fucking almost fucking killing my fucking husband with food poisoning just as I fucking hit the fucking horny phase! Chicken or fish? Fuck you Rick for having the fish!'

Martha gulped, Kate's frustrations pouring from her voice, the woman dropping her head and shifting her feet as she started humping into her hand. The sight of Kate's naked body taking her back to a time when she was more liberal than she was today. A time on the road with the same men and women for months on end, nights in strange hotels with tired, homesick friends.

Martha had told her son many tales from her time on the road with her various traveling productions. But for every story she'd told him, there was another she'd never tell. Stories that she'd kept to herself, memories of nights that almost felt like dreams decades later.

'FUCK!' Kate screamed, her hand falling from her crotch and her foot striking out at the laundry basket beside her, 'Fuck!'

'Darling?' Martha found herself speaking, her mouth moving before her brain had decided to reveal her position. The scream that left Kate, freaked Martha out, the younger brunette flailing before grabbing her towel and holding it to her growing body.

'Shit, Martha?' Kate's face flushed in humiliation, 'How... How long we're you...'

'Long enough to know that if the cook were to die tonight,' Martha approached Kate, her flowing brightly colored dress a contrast against the white tiles, 'I would have to make sure you had a good alibi and that we'll not be having fish for dinner for a very long time.'

'Oh god,' Kate's face fell and her eyes filled with tears.

'Don't cry Kate,' Martha reached out and pulled Kate against her, the older woman's hands pressing against Kate's naked back, 'I remember how bad it was when I was pregnant with Richard. A single, pregnant woman was not an acceptable thing to be back then. Throw in all the hormones that are coursing through your body and you can understand how bad it was for me to be stuck in a remote Midwest town.'

'I almost clocked Javi today,' Kate gripped Martha's back, the towel covering her only held up by the press of their bodies, 'I can't... Not on my own.'

'Even when you're using big boy?' Kate's embarrassment flared further at the mention of her favorite toy, 'Yes, I know about big boy.'

'Nothing works,' Kate slumped, her posture and voice defeated, 'I can't make myself cum and I feel like I'm going to explode before Rick recovers. I don't know what to do Martha.'

Sighing, the mother gently rocked Kate while the younger woman whimpering softly against her. Martha dropped her face into Kate's shoulder, her hands full of Kate's skin as she reminisced about the nights spent on tour.

Her reaction to the loss of Kate's body against hers was surprising to Martha, Kate baring herself briefly while wrapping the small towel around her body.

'How did you do it?' Kate slumped onto the raised tiles around the tub, 'How did you handle feeling like you're going to explode?'

'There was a way,' Martha glanced at the doorway nervously, 'My son knows a lot about my time on the road, but he doesn't know everything. A girl needs her mysteries after all.'*

Kate chuckled as Martha sat beside her, 'You're afraid of what he'll think?'

'When...' Martha sighed, 'When you're on the road with the same people week after week, you either get along swimmingly or you destroy the production. I was the understudy to the lead actress, while playing the role of farmhand four when I found myself in the same position you are in.'

'Adelaide Drummond,' Martha watched Kate's eyes widened, 'She found me curled up on my bed one afternoon and she took it upon herself to give me relief.'

'You... You had sex with a woman?' Kate's face shone with her shock.

'You know I'm a free spirit,' Martha grinned cheekily, 'I'm open to trying almost anything once. Why are you so surprised that I slept with her?'

'I dunno,' Kate shrugged, 'Just never imagined you'd be open to that.'

'Back then, I was open to a lot honey,' Martha chuckled wistfully, 'Things I know will change my son's opinion of me in a negative manner.'

'I won't tell him,' Kate shivered when Martha's hand reached across and cupped her bare knee, 'I'll keep your secrets Martha. Did it help?'

'Oh darling,' Martha smirked, twisting her body towards Kate's, 'Addy was a godsend, her and her girls.'

'God,' Kate's chest heaved, the brunette gasping at the gentle stroking on her leg.

'Thick as thieves we were,' Martha's voice echoed in Kate's head, 'Three months. Three months of fun that I've missed ever since.'

'Is that why you're seducing me Martha?' Kate's eyes were wide when they lifted from where Martha's hand stroked her bare thigh.

Martha shrugged, her hand slipping further up Kate's leg. The matriarch's lips twitched when Kate let out a soft breath, her legs sliding open minutely.

'I'm not your first am I?' Martha stroked her fingers along Kate's thigh, the brunette mewling.

'No...' Kate breathed, 'You're not.'

'How many?' Kate shivered at the desire in the older woman's voice.

'Four,' Kate gulped, 'Just four... Well, five technically.'

'Take the towel off Darling,' Martha watched the thrill flash over Kate's face, her hands shaking as she exposed herself before her, 'oh to be a decade or two younger. My Son is a very lucky man.'

'Thank you,' Kate shyly replied, her eyes dropping to the tie of Martha's dress.

'Tonight is about you sweetie,' Martha smiled, 'And giving you a respite until my son can pleasure you himself. Lean back Kate.'

Kate watched Martha gulp when she leant back on her elbows, the older woman staring at her hungrily. The slight pressure of the hand on her leg silently told Kate to open her legs further, the supple woman watching the surprise show on Martha's face when she spread herself open.

'Please Martha,' Kate heard herself beg, 'Do it.'

Kate's groan when Martha ran her thumb across her skin had the older woman glancing at the door, sure the volume would wake her son. Kate squirmed, her hands scrambling for a grip as Martha pushed into Kate's dripping snatch, her hot walls twitching against her.

'Who?' Martha's eyes filled with mirth when Kate stared at her in confusion, 'Who are the five?'

'Wha... OOH!' Kate squealed, Martha teasing a second digit teasing her entrance, 'Maddie... Fuck! ... Maddie and I, we - we... God, we turned 18 and... ugh!... We got drunk. Woke... Woke up in her bed together. She... She made the first move,' Kate groaned harshly, 'her parents were staying away for the weekend and... SHIT!... We... We made the most of the empty house. She made me scream Martha, her tongue in my... Pussy made me scream!'

'Mmm,' Martha moaned softly when Kate arched her back, her body piling on the pleasure to her already fried nerve endings as the second finger stroked along her walls, 'Who else?'

'S... Svetlana. I spent a... HOLY FUCK!' Kate shrieked, Martha's unoccupied hand cupping her enlarged breast, her thumb brushing over the erect tip.

'Go on sweetie,' Martha's voice dropped, rasping huskily as she sped Kate towards her orgasm.

'She was the... SHIT!' Kate panted, her eyes glazing over, 'Woman who took me in. She... She gave me a home for the time I was away. Her and her... Daughter!'

Martha bent her head down, pressing what would have been a motherly kiss to Kate's stomach had it not been for the older woman pleasuring her with her fingers, 'Go on.'

'I knew,' Kate gulped, her face scrunching up when a third finger stroked her folds, Martha kissing up towards Kate's breasts, 'Fuck... I knew they were closer than... Normal, knew they were fucking.'

'Dirty girl,' Kate scoffed at Martha's tease.

'Says the... God,' Kate laughed, 'Says the woman with... THREE! Fuck... Three fingers in her son's wife.'

'Martha...' Kate thrust her hips up against the hand pleasuring her, 'I... I joined them a fortnight into... Yeah, right there... I watched them... Fuck, I got off watching them fuck. Mommy fucking daughter, daughter fucking Mommy. Made me sooooo fucking wet.'

Martha's lips pressed against Kate's breast, the brunette letting out a long, deep groan when Martha's tongue rolled over her nipple. The mother felt Kate twitch around her fingers and pulled her face back to watch the younger woman explode in ecstasy before her.

'FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!' Kate screamed, bucking harshly against Martha. Pumping her fingers into Kate, Martha groaned at the tight grip the younger woman clamped around her fingers, her mind flooding with the memories of Adelaide and the three months of pleasure.

'Good Lord,' Martha nipped at Kate's nipple, her fingers sliding out of her with a wet plop, 'You needed that didn't you?'

'Fuck...' Kate lay on the cold tiles, her chest heaving, 'that... Wow...'

'Who were the other two?' Martha slid her fingers out of her daughter. Her eyes dropped to the gooey digits and she felt her tongue dart out to wet her lips. Lifting her hand towards her mouth, she huffed when Kate grabbed her wrist, her red lips wrapping around her fingers. A low hum left the older woman's lips when she felt Kate's tongue swirling over her skin.

'What did you say?' Kate's eyes flashed with cheekiness after she'd released Martha's hand.

'You said five,' Martha rumbled, 'You've told me about three... Who are the other two?'

'Lanie,' Kate blushed, 'Twice. Vegas. There was a guy we met. We knew what he wanted, but we were too drunk to care.'

'Naughty,' Martha chuckled, her hand stroking over Kate's stomach.

'We were,' Kate giggled, 'We made his night a fucking awesome one. We fooled around on our own a few nights later and the next morning we agreed that what happened in Vegas would forever stay in Vegas.'

Martha chuckled, a soft knowing smile on her face, 'I know exactly what you mean sweetheart.' Martha's hand slid over Kate's stomach, her fingertips brushing over Kate's folds once more. Seeing the question in Kate's eyes, Martha pressed her lips to her forehead, 'I've not tasted a woman in far too long honey, and you're still so wet.'

'Mmm,' Kate shifted, Martha's fingers stoking the embers in her belly. Unconsciously, the brunette opened her legs, allowing the matriarchal woman to pleasure her once more.

'And the last one?' Martha was surprised when fear flashed over Kate's face.

'Rick can never know,' Kate pleaded, 'please Martha, he can never know!'

'I promise,' Her fingers paused as she stared at the suddenly scared Kate, 'Who was it?'

'Natalie Rhodes,' Kate whispered.

'I thought you hated her?' Martha slid off the tiles, kneeling before Kate.

'Hate her fucking guts,' Kate gasped, Martha pushing her knees wide and stroking her fingers over Kate's lower belly, 'She was infuriatingly good at mimicking me. Same clothes... Ooh... Same hair.'

'What happened,' Martha calmly spoke as she pressed two fingers back inside her daughter.

'She turned up at mine with a bottle...' Kate groaned, 'A bottle of wine. Was very apo...apologetic for making my week so awful. I think Rick told her she'd been difficult. We sat, we talked.'

Kate squealed suddenly, Martha's thumb circling her clit, 'FUCKING FUCK! Yeah... Flick my clit Martha!'

'Only if you tell me more Kate,' Martha huskily smirked, Kate's eyes flashing with realization.

'You're... FUCK!' Kate gasped, 'You're getting off on this aren't you? Listening to Katie and her pussy munching?'

'Maybe,' Martha laughed, 'at my age, you take whatever fun you can get. So what happened with Natalie?'

'We were laughing,' Kate groaned, rolling her hips into the hand pleasuring her, 'about Rick, about Nikki. Laughing, giggling... Then... Oh fuck Martha, I... I jumped her.'

'Good for you,' Martha hummed, lowering her face towards Kate's pussy, her breath pulsing onto Kate's sensitive clit, 'Mind if I...?'

'Eat me Martha,' Kate squealed loudly when she felt the wet tongue slide into her. She gripped the older woman's head tightly and found herself talking, 'we fucked hard, I made her my bitch and fucked her brains out on my couch... On the floor, the wall... God... I fucking owned her that night and she took it.'

Martha hummed, her tongue probing deep into Kate's boiling core, her smell invading her senses. The older woman hooked Kate's leg over her shoulder and turned her attention to her clit.

'YES!' Kate shrieked, Martha's tongue hitting the spot that had taunted her for days, 'THERE! FUCKING FUCK ME RIGHT THERE MARTHA!'

Rubbing her tongue over Kate's clit, Martha pumped her fingers into the woman, feeling her as Kate plummeted over the edge, her screams echoing around the bathroom while she bucked like a bronco under her.

Lapping up the sweet taste that hit her tongue, Martha groaned at how tightly Kate's inner walls crushed her fingers, a slither of pain mixing in with the pleasure. She didn't know, or really care, how long she knelt with her mouth over Kate's gushing snatch before the woman slumped before her, a sob of relief passing her lips.

'Fucking God!' Kate gasped, her hand releasing Martha's hair and brushing her own wet strands out her face, 'That... You... Fuck Martha, you... You did it.'

'Glad I could help honey,' Martha wiped her chin and sucked on her fingers lewdly, 'Are you alright?'

'Fucking awesome,' Kate beamed brightly, 'Don't feel like I'm going to combust anymore. Are you going to be okay?'

Martha winced at the question as she clambered to shaky legs. Seeing the worry on Kate's face, she shrugged, 'I'm alright, that was worth my knees complaining.'

'Thank you Martha,' Kate suddenly found herself with tears rolling down her cheeks, her hands wiping furiously at her face, 'I fucking hate how fucked up my hormones are.'

Helping Kate to sit, Martha smiled warmly, 'It's all worth it when he looks at you for the first time.'

'We don't know what we're having,' Kate splayed her hand over her growing stomach, 'I want the surprise.'

'Are you going to be okay?' Martha pressed her lips to Kate's forehead again.

'Yeah,' Kate sighed, 'Better than ever,' A soft laugh bubbled up, 'I came in here to have a hot bubble filled bath, see if that would help. Feels like I may need it for other reasons now!'

'I'll let you relax honey,' Martha stood, her eyes taking in Kate's body briefly before she smirked and turned to leave the room. The sound of the taps running followed her across the bedroom, her gaze falling on her snoring son.

'You married a firecracker there my boy,' Martha rubbed the foot that stuck out from the bottom of the blankets, 'Never let this one go, you hear me?'



Unexpected Relief Ch. 02



My eyes cracked open to a fresh dawn and for a brief second I was afraid I was back in my own apartment, cold and alone.

That was my nightmare- that I was sleeping in a bed far too large for just myself, on a bed set that had been purchased to merely to replace the bed set I lost when the woman I had loved more than anything, betrayed me in one of the worst ways I could have ever imagined.

My heart pounded, and it took a few seconds for the scales to clear from both my mind and eyes. I stirred a bit and I saw my former pupil- now a beautiful, sexy vivacious woman sprawled out half on the bed, half on me, breathing these little puffing snores, her breath blowing up the long ebony curls that strayed into her face. I couldn't resist the temptation to gently brush them to the side with the knuckles of my large hand- my reverie broken by the call of nature.

Normally, I would get up like some kind of marionette controlled by someone with arthritic hands, stumble to the bathroom, shower and shave, then stagger to the kitchen, downing coffee and a half-ass breakfast that I only half-tasted before the commute on the days I had school, or to the library or coffee shop to study- and on the days (now becoming rarer and rarer) that my friends would drag me out of the house for my own good. 

This morning, for the first time in almost half a year I quickly got up, feeling limber and refreshed. Careful to not disturb 'Landa too terribly, I padded to her bathroom. I had missed the feeling of waking up next to a woman- even in the heat of Summer, my bed had seemed so cold and hard without Janette. I had to chuckle to myself- though Yolanda was obviously a woman grown, she kept her place like a teenager. Admittedly, I was rather anal about things- I kept everything well organized, I made my bed in a precise fashion every morning. I even had two hampers- one for coloreds and one for whites- I had a friend rib me that my laundry was Jim Crow- I remember screwing my face at the distasteful joke, but laughed a bit despite my white liberal guilt- maybe because of it.

Yolanda's apartment was just as small as I remember it, and clothes were everywhere, including soda and beer cans. It wasn't gross- I didn't see any science experiments crawling out of cereal bowls or anything- it was just messy. I did have to avoid stepping on a pad of lined paper on my way to the bathroom. Glancing down, I saw 'Landa could write music. I couldn't read it- so I had no idea how it sounded, but the top of the page told me she had labeled it "Sweet Memories". In the corner, over by a small army of stuffed animals a stand with a keyboard and next to that, what was probably a saxophone case, leaned almost lovingly on a steel string guitar sitting solidly in a stand.

My bladder urged me on despite my curiosity, and I saw her bathroom was much like her room- messy, but cluttered with interesting things. I saw photos and doodles of her with various friends, she had enough bath products to run a small spa. Putting the seat up, I relieved myself and the feeling of relief was so good it almost made my eyes curl up into the back of my head. Washing my hands on a little cake of soap shaped like a pineapple, then drying them on one of the cleaner towels haphazardly thrown about her shower door I looked down at my pale body. It was wreathed in Yolanda's kisses, scratches and love bites, smears of her lipstick streaked across various places on my body. I smelled of sex, both mine and hers, before and I decided to take a quick shower before climbing back into bed with the sleeping Yolanda.

As soon as I re-entered the bed, Yolanda's full, plush lips curled into a smile and she made this adorable little crooning noise while pulling me tightly to her curvy, lush body. I held her, and allowed myself to just relax and enjoy the moment. She nuzzled into my broad hairy chest, her puffy little breaths causing my chest hair to rustle like a gentle gusts through a field of grass. I took my time to drink in her beauty- her skin was was a dark brown and I couldn't help but admire the red, purples and blacks of the various tattoos that accentuated her already beautiful chocolate skin, made even more spectacular with how the morning light from her small window played across her lush curves. I inhaled her sweet scent- wildflowers combined with the musk of pure, healthy woman as one of my hands absentmindedly played with the long, thick ringlets of her black hair. Against my upper stomach, I could feel the overflowing fullness of her large breasts, the skin the color of sandalwood contrasting across the pale white of my skin.

I found myself growing hard again as images of the searing sweetness of last night burned through my mind- I dozed for what was probably only an hour or so to feel a stirring at my side, the sudden shock of a wet mouth on my cock. I looked down to find Yolanda almost half asleep, but purring nonetheless take me into her mouth, and nursing the thick head with these firm little sucks as her broad tongue massaged the underside.

I moaned and my hand found the thick mane of her hair and she made the sexiest little keening sound as my fingers massaged her scalp, she took all of me into her mouth, and I could feel her nose breathing against my stomach as I found myself becoming fully hard inside her mouth.

"God...'Landa baby, that feels so fucking good," I uttered in bliss as I felt the wonderfully soft, verdant wetness of her sex as she rubbed herself onto my leg, her hips making these delicious little circles against my flesh.

I could feel the tight, insistent pull of her full lipped mouth on my now thick, throbbing cock and the now full, hungry moans she made traveled to the deepest part of me and I found my hand gripping her long, dark curls of it's own accord. Her body was warming up, and I could feel the hard flesh of her pierced nipple against my lower thigh.

I bent down a bit, my hand tracing down her ear, to the slope of her neck and shoulder, until I found the crinkled licorice field of her aureola and the point of her thick nipple, and I took my thumb and forefinger and started to pinch and pull at it, toying with the jewelry, and we both gasped- she felt the sudden stimulation and I the resulting jolt of pleasure caused by the increase of her already admirable efforts in sucking my now blissfully aching hardness.

I teased the thick plugs of her nipples, the feminine swell of her stomach trembled and flutter. It was as if the scratching caresses of my thick fingers and nails directly caused causing the lips of her already lust-soaked sex to blossom and bloom against my leg. I flashed back to last night, savoring how delicious she tasted and I wanted to experience that again- and share the pleasure she was giving me. I positioned myself differently she adjusted but unsure where to put her hips.

"Yolanda, swing your hips up, I have to taste you again," I swore I could feel her actually thrum in joy at my words and she quickly disengaged just enough so I could reach her. I was about five inches taller than she, but hunched down and wrapped my arms around her hips, my bearded mouth seeking out the sweet aromatic plum of her full slit.

"Mmmmnnnnmmmaaaa....Yes Tommy- so good!" 'Landa breathed into my thigh, before she took my still wetly throbbing cock back into the wonderfully haven of her soft wet mouth.

I moaned and hummed into the dark patch of her pubic hair, and I loved the way her full nether lips felt against my tongue, I enjoyed parting them with my tongue and mouth and the heavy sweet taste of her.

As opposed to irrepressible, milking blow job she gave me last night, her technique was slow and languid, almost leisurely as she moaned and shuddered against me and the loving caresses of my tongue. Like her personality, she had this wonderfully confident and natural way of lovemaking.

Her ability to just enjoy the moment was something I wasn't used to. I admittedly usually felt uptight during sex (I was uptight about everything else, so why should lovemaking be any different) and Janette had always seemed so- contrived. Yolanda's simple, joyful passion was infectious, and it helped me to relax enough to enjoy myself as well. I ran my broad, thick hands lightly over her wonderfully lush hips and full rounded bottom, enjoying the smooth silken texture of her skin and how her coffee hue contrasted with my pale hands and with time, I felt myself becoming more and more at ease. I could feel her hands doing the same for me, and her small soft hands soothing and sensual at the same time.

I nuzzled and delved even deeper into her, drinking her nectar and teasing the little rigid brown nub of her clitoris that poked from it's hood and I moaned in turn as I felt myself be gently pulled into orgasm- her mouth making me feel like I was in a wonderful soothing bath. As with last night, she took me all the way into my mouth, drinking me down with a satisfied relish.

My fingers found their way to her slick, fragrant furrow and I dipped my fingers into her and plied deeply, my thick digit slicing into the sweet, hot gripping mouth of her. I felt her body shiver and writhe in delight as she was almost singing the joys of her own climax around my hardness as which she seemed to be intent on milking every last bit of cum from me.

She disengaged gently, and I got to see her stretch to celebrate both her sexual satisfaction and as a way to greet the morning, the sun pouring in through the window- she looked like some sexy jungle cat.

"Good morning Tommy," 'Landa beamed at me as she bent down to nuzzle my cheek, and my hand went to the long curly black links of her hair. Something about her hair made me itch to touch it, caress it, and run my fingers through the thick fullness of it.

She made this sweet sound of happiness and kissed my chest, inhaling my scent.

"You enjoy your shower?" She asked, her open, grey eyes smiling.

"Mmmhmmmm" I replied.

"I'm gonna take one too- you made me all sticky." 

I couldn't help but blush and she laughed.

"You're cute, you know that?" Yolanda stated, her dimples deepening in those smooth brown cheeks of hers as she smiled even more broadly.

I had to laugh- I couldn't think of anyone I know that would have labeled me like that- especially within the last 6 months so I shot her my best "Serious Guy" look (which was pretty good, considering that' was pretty much my default look), and responded with just a touch of wryness "I get that all the time."

Yolanda playfully kissed me on the nose and bounced into the shower. I watched in joy and fascination as her healthy young body shimmied and shook, her lovely dusky flesh pliant and supple.

As I heard the water run, I went to her sink full of dishes that should have been done three days ago- I had to resist the urge to turn on the water and do them since I didn't want to mess with 'Landa's shower.

I couldn't help but consider all the options, "What am I going to do with her? What does she want? Is this right for me? Am I right for her? We're in such different places in our lives- does she even want to get married and have children?"

A small still voice within me- as if my subconscious had found a voice and pushed itself into my waking brain told me to relax, that not everything needed to be plotted out five years in advance.

Something about that concept scared me. I'm so used to planning my life, from what I want to do for dinner, to what I need to do to balance the multitude of classes I'm taking to how much money I should start saving and investing after I got my teaching certificate so I could retire comfortably.

Looking around at the haphazard way Yolanda kept her apartment, to her very free, open and almost aggressive pursuit of the joys in life I had found someone who was very different from myself.

Honestly, I was afraid of getting hurt again. What happened with Janette left me so scarred it made it hard to fully enjoy the wonder of the moment.

I looked at myself in the mirror and shook my head, muttering under my breath, "She isn't Janette, it's not fair to treat her like she is."

I pondered this, and I heard the water stop, so I bent down, scraping a sliver from the dried and cracked cake of soap on an old coffee lid that had been turned into an impromptu soap dish and washed out my face, head and beard.

I heard the water stop- and Yolanda emerged soon after, a towel wrapped around her thick, healthy hair that must take forever to dry. She didn't have another towel, and I could see her body, small, lush and ripe in the hallway. The rings in her nipples glint I couldn't help myself, my jaw fell open like a teenage boy, and she smiled again.

"You're such a dork..." Her eyes were alight with amusement and I can tell she enjoyed the way I looked at her, and...I could tell she liked looking at me. For most of my adult life, I hadn't really thought of myself as attractive. I didn't think I was some kind of Quasimodo, but I wasn't ever what you would call a "pretty boy."

She beamed at me, those bright white teeth over those lovely, full dark, sweet lips, and she shivered, gleaming naked in her hallway, the drops like little diamonds over her smooth, brown skin, goosebumps highlighting her round fullness.

"I ran out of towels in the bathroom Tommy. In the closet hanging up there is a spare one, could you grab it for me?" She said, starting to shiver- though it was still Summer, mornings could be cold.

I did, in fact see the towel, it was long, purple and faded, smeared with the stains of what looked like paint and hair-dye. It was hard for me to look away, I enjoyed her so much. 

"Come here, 'Landa" I said, my voice soft and a gently smile on my lips. She shivered in a way that suggested it wasn't just from cold, and looked at me.

She took three steps towards me, each sinuous, rolling of her hips causing her coffee-colored flesh to ripple and shudder delightfully. She looked up at me not knowing exactly what I wanted, but willing to chance the experience.

"I'm cold Tommy." Yolanda said, shuddering, rubbing her delicate hands against her naked arms.

"I'm going to warm you up, 'Landa" I stepped in closer to her, my hands wicking away moisture that had yet to fall to the carpet.

"That's nice," she almost whispered as I slowly, lovingly took the worn, soft towel over her arching back- enjoying the way her twitching muscles made the various notes and clefts of her tattoos almost dance, her toned yet soft shoulders and long, graceful neck. From there, I ran my cloth-covered hands over her belly- round in a very feminine way, flaring out into wide, soft hips. From there, I knelt down behind her, drying the moisture from her full, round brown thighs, playing over her legs and the sumptuous expanse of her ass. I could hear 'Landa's breathing quicken, as I almost held mine, kneeling before her, I dried her off, I looked up into her heavily-lidded bliss-filled eyes and up and down her now mostly dry body, magnificent in it's curves, dips and dimples of chocolate, licorice and the earthy tones of fine wood. I stood up behind her.

"Your arms, please," My voice was gentle, and she raised her rounded arms up and out, causing the vast expanse of her breasts to lift up as well and I toweled those those off as well. I felt myself harden, as I drank in the scent of her soap, shampoo- and best of all, the spicy wildflower aroma of Yolanda herself. I had only meant to dry her off, but this woman, this unbelievably sexy woman who had re-awakened all of the senses I had let dull and atrophy, her actions, fluid and a refreshing lack of self-consciousness aroused me beyond believe.

My large hand cupped her cheek, and she was shaking again.

"Are you still cold, 'Landa?" I asked, my thumb brushing her cheek. She shook her head leaned into my shoulder, her face pressed against my chest.

"Tommy?," she asked, her breath hot and sweet as I, fully clothed, cradled her naked body against mine.

I held her to me, my arms wrapped against me.

"That was such a very sweet thing you did, I...I'm.."She stuttered and stopped and we said nothing for awhile, our hearts pounding in our chest until she spoke in a small, scared voice."I"m not used to...I'm used to just having fun. I don't...I don't know..."

I nodded and cradled her head, still wrapped in the towel in my chest. I was scared too. This was so quick, so sudden. A million "what if's" played through my mind and I took a deep breath.

"It's okay 'Landa. Let's just enjoy today. You've helped me to feel happy for the first time in months, and I think...It's okay to be happy. Let's be happy today, and let's let tomorrow worry about tomorrow."

She looked up at me, her eyes grey moons defying the day, her eyes gently brimming with tears, "But Tommy,I'm not rea-"

I smiled down at her and and said, "Shh." and before she could respond, I kissed her, fully, passionately and I could feel her smiling against my lips, melting into my arms and surrendering to the moment.



Unexpected Relief Ch. 01



Details get blurry at this point, but they had taken her things when I wasn't there- there was a note about a restraining order that never turned out never actually being filed. I had packed everything up for her in nice, neat little boxes, trying to bring some order to the mess she had left. I tried to rid myself of everything that reminded me of her- even the quilt that my mother had made for Janette and I on our first year anniversary, I folded into one of the boxes. I hadn't bothered to wash out the cum-stain.

I didn't want to hear the gossip, but people always liked to tell me things that I could I didn't really want to know, thinking that it would bolster and encourage me. Peter had left both her and Victoria for new wife Number 4. A few weeks passed and then she had tried to contact me again, wanting to work things out. I simply told her, "I don't trust you." and hung up the phone much to what turned out to be her surprise and hurt. She stopped trying after the third time- but not before she had flew into a volley of accusations and recriminations about my worth as a man. I hung up the phone and looked at my knuckles, unable to forget the anger and blood.

Six months had passed...

I had found a new cafe- this one was more laid back than the trendy one we had met at, that one still displayed some of the pieces Janette had made. That place was almost as lousy with memories as home. Even at six months I was still in pain. I needed to get out of the apartment- I had tried to scour it of everything that reminded me of her, but objects were easier to get rid of than memories. I really should have moved.

So, there I sat, in a cafe alone, trying to formulate an inspired response to an uninspired article. It was March, and Spring was early this year. I wasn't able to see the flowers, but I could smell them. Janette preferred the scent of vanilla and roses.

My friends, the few I still had- (Janette had claimed the rest- few people wanted to openly support a woman beater, plus, Janette had been far more popular to begin with) tried to comfort me. Twice, they had tried to set me up with women. They had been pretty enough. One was an art student, the other studying business law- the artist had hair like corn silk and volunteered in an animal shelter, the other was Russian girl, straightforward and clever, who lived at home, helping her widowed father raise her five siblings in while working and going to school, had these beautiful eyes that were open and shining, like green jewels. Both unintentionally reminded me of Janette- not really their fault. They both seemed like very nice, and neither one ugly, but my heart was just still too raw. The dates were halting, awkward affairs for all parties involved, and after the second one, my friends stopped pressing the issue.

But now it smelled like wildflowers in here, and rain and spice- mixing in with the already heady aroma of coffee.

"Hello?" I heard a woman's voice, soft, rich and velvety, a soothing contrast to the clanging din of the cafe,"Is that you?"

I didn't look up, her friend had to be around here somewhere. I'd just keep my head down, out of her way.

"Uh...hey?" Even not meeting her eyes, it seemed as if she was addressing me. But why should she want to do that? I'm a depressed, bitter woman beater- it was better to leave me alone. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that.

Instead of going away, instead I could only blink when brown fingers, capped in healthy, short cropped nails painted in chipped black nail polish blocked the top of my page.

I looked up, greeted by this pair of incredible grey eyes surrounded by a sea of black ringlets and a beautiful face with skin smooth and colored like teak. I lowered my book down, and saw lips full and expressive, pursed expectantly at me. 

"Mr. Everett...uh, Tom, is that you?" The scent of spice and wildflowers made me heady- and a trickle of realization broke through the thick shell of my depression. 

No, it couldn't be?

She saw that brief spark of recognition and smiled, her teeth even and white, flashing like lightening in her fully lipped mouth. "It's Yolanda...remember, you tutored me when I was in high school?"

I did tutor a Yolanda, but she looked so, well...different. My eyes roamed up and down her body. Yolanda had been this awkward little thing, stout and clumsy, with a face that was too round and a mouth that was filled with teeth that really could have used braces. I was a senior in high school, in contrast to her being in the Eighth Grade. Despite the fact I attended the same school that she did, she addressed me as Mr. Everett, like I was a teacher. I chalked it up to just another sign of her social awkwardness. I was gearing up to graduate, ready start my higher education at the local junior college because I couldn't afford a the price of university tuition, and she hadn't even started high school proper. This had been years years ago. 

I found myself staring. It was my turn now to be the awkward one as I gazed at her body, far from short and stout. She had gained about six inches of height, and the baby fat had redeposited itself itself into the sweet, full contours of a young woman in full bloom. Underneath her tight black t-shirt, I saw the impressive swells of breasts and I coughed, blushing scarlet when I knew she had caught me looking.

"I do remember. Yolanda...it's good to see you." I attempted vainly to come out of this with at least a little dignity intact, but failed miserably. I was still in shock. In my mind, Yolanda Redford was still a sullen, quiet, chubby little girl, shy but smart, and my grief-riddled mind was slow to process the changes. Memories came trickling back like winter frost melting underneath the Spring sunshine. 

I was one of the few people who she let into her world of private thoughts, and that world was not very happy. Her mother was hard working, but very poor, trying to raise three children on her own. The man she considered the closest thing to a father had run out on them when 'Landa (a pet name her mom and her siblings called her, as would any friends, if she would have had any) was still in elementary school. Her birth father was some rich white guy who treated her mother like a princess behind closed doors and in the back of his Lexus- but like some antebellum maid or a ghetto slut in front of his Ivy-league buddies and fine pedigree family. Being the the eldest child in a family raised by a single mother, Yolanda struggled with her weight, depression and identity issues that were expected, really, given her situation. She struck me as someone who might take solace in poetry, and I shared with her one of my personal favorites, a poem by D.H. Lawrence. 

"I never saw a wild thing feel sorry for itself, A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without having felt sorry for itself."

Ironically apt advice that I myself just couldn't seem to follow myself.

"I've changed a bit, huh?" Yolanda asked, knowing full well she had as I nodded like some simpleton.

After awhile of me not speaking, she continued.

"You know Tom, my friend works here? She tells me that you nurse the same drink for hours, and that you keep your nose in some book, never looking up." Yolanda's beautiful gray eyes bored into mine, and I couldn't have looked away if I had wanted to.

""Why didn't you say hi before?" I asked lamely. Deep down, I really wouldn't have wanted anyone to see me in my present state. It was embarrassing, honestly to have her see me so beaten. The poetry I introduced her to had awakened a place within Yolanda, given her a voice she had never found before. With this voice, she discovered her interest in other things, such as music and painting. We both grew from our experiences together. In being able to find a way to inspire her as both a student and a human being, she inspired me in return. That perpetually blooming seed of inspiration was probably one of the few things that kept me going during the dreary, numb tedium that was my life right now. She had been failing English- not through any lack of intelligence, but because, she was where I was right now, so very sad. A kid like her fell through the cracks because her more obnoxious and rowdy peers tended to get the attention and interventions. It was pure chance that I was assigned to her. "I just don't see the point of it", she had told me at the time,"It's not real, who gives a crap if I know what an adverb is, or what a conjugation is, and how to use a comma?" 

I remember her tone of voice when she said this, her shoulders slumped like some deflated balloon. After months of working with her, listening to her, reading what she had to write and say and feel, I was able to show her that literature was more than just empty essays- (if only the dull evolutionist I was being subjected to for my current assignment had learned that lesson). By showing her that she did have an active audience who cared about what she had to say, what she had to write, Yolanda Redford, finally felt a part of the world, someone who wasn't just human scenery. "I wasn't sure it was you, to be honest, when I first walked by." 'Landa admitted with a shrug, causing her firm flesh to shudder and ripple so invitingly. I hadn't looked at a woman in half a year, and now I was turning into some kind of letch," You've changed so much, you were so happy then..and had hair. Why are you so sad?"

At that point I just lamely shrugged and tried to deflect by asking about her life.

Yolanda had recently started classes at the same local community college I had gone to when I had graduated high school, and was working at a small music store to make ends meet. This was essentially her Friday. Chance would have it, it was mine too. Without school or work looming that next morning, we could just catch up and we did so as we walked. Honestly, I didn't want to leave once I started talking- it was the first time in months I felt like a human being again. So there I babbled and related what had become of me, my education, my tutoring, and then finally it progressed into the whole story of myself, Janette and Peter.

Yolanda listened intently, her eyes narrowing, and her brow furrowing near the end, until after a long, thoughtful pause she said,"She's lucky a bitch-slap was all you gave her."

"What?" I replied, taken aback," It was wrong..."

"Do you know how many girls...women, I mean, would kill to have a guy like you?" Those large grey eyes of hers regarded me with a intense, passionate sincerity. She looked down from my eyes to my body, causing me to feel somewhat awkward, I wasn't used to having a woman look at me with those kind of eyes- and hers were beautiful. I had noticed those eyes of hers back in high school.

"I don't know." I admitted. I've never been good at initiating, let alone recognizing those kinds of signals.

"I know I did." She admitted, biting her lower lip, she seemed to be fighting off the urge to look down.

"Really?" I said, amazed, "But you were..."

"...Fat?" She said, looking at me coolly, her voice gaining a slight edge.

"No," I replied, my voice soft and low," Fourteen..."

She looked dismayed, "....Oh yeah, that."

I just stared at her- God, I was so bad at talking to people! "I didn't mean-"

Yolanda laughed, it was such a rich, full, lovely sound- like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold morning.

"I know what you meant Tom, I was just teasing you." Her grey eyes still looking at me, and I wanted to swim in them." You used to have such a great sense of humor...you always made me laugh, one of the few people that could back then. It really sucks what this Janette woman put you through."

I was amazed at the changes that had happened in 'Landa. Her personality was so strong and confident- no matter how many times I repeated it inside my head, I absolutely was stunned at how she had changed. She was still young, sure- but very much a woman nonetheless. The other aspects of her growth did not fail to escape me, either- She made quite the striking profile, her hair framing a gorgeous face like a waterfall at midnight, her nose was wide, and perfectly proportioned over lush lips that were almost purple in the darkening sky, perfectly matching her creamy cafe au lait skin. When she smiled, which was often, her face showed dimples. Her neck was long, rising up from proudly from the landscape of her strong shoulders. Being a man, I suppose, I couldn't help but be drawn to her breasts. Janette had always been petite and relatively small-chested, but 'Londa's were large and full, yet firm. Her stomach was concave, possessing a slight outward swell to it. It wasn't fat, but just a womanly kind of softness, her thighs were thick and lush and I found myself wondering what she looked like underneath her clothes, and I imagined what it would be like to discover the contrast of my broad, pale hands caressing that smooth coffee colored skin.

I looked down, a bit embarrassed at where my mind was going and then shook my head, only now thinking to ask her,"Where are we walking to?"

"Nowhere in particular., also known as my place." She laughed again- a declaration and a challenge wrapped up in one sentence,

I was so engaged in her, as I rambled on, telling her what had happened, unable to stop myself from looking at her body. My mind no longer warring with the duel concepts I had of the Yolanda Redford I knew as a child- the small, round pimply faced freshman. I definitely could only see the gorgeous, confidant woman I was speaking with now.

It turned out her "place" was actually some small apartments above a tattoo parlor. I gave her an arched look when I noticed.

"Don't you judge me, Mr. Preppie." Yolanda said with mock indignation," My girlfriend Kat and her boyfriend run the place. I help them out from time to time and and they cut me a great deal on rent. Plus, they use me to "practice."

I WAS being judgmental, although I hated to admit it. I had gotten so used to taking myself so seriously, I had a hard time thinking of people living any other way. I doggedly, stubbornly kept trying to build a bridge for the future, even after I found that I wasn't ever going to get met in the middle. I just kind of stuck out there, not knowing how to be anything but half a bridge. I had assumed this role of an "adult" when other people my age were still going out and having fun and pissing off their parents. An "adult", whatever the fuck that was supposed to be, anyway. Right now, it meant working my ass off in school so I could work my ass off to get my teaching certification so I could work my ass off so I could make a decent living for Janette and I. But Janette was no more. After our break up, I was just going through the motions and it grew more and more painfully apparent to me every day.

'Landa's place was tiny- a glorified studio really. It was somewhat cluttered, the entry way full of posters of bands I would never listen to- let alone heard of. These days I don't think I listened much to anything but NPR, and that was just numb background noise. Sometimes, when I got really angry and nobody else was around, I angrily I ground my teeth to Disturbed, Rammstein or my childhood favorites- Pantera and Metallica. Janette would blanch at stuff like that, calling it 'Hate Music"- and I had set that part of myself aside for her. I think the raw anger in that music scared her, she never really was good at overtly expressing anger, like everything else that was uncomfortably intense, she just re-framed it into something she could accept. Now, I think that's why I started listening to it again. I couldn't be honestly angry around Janette, it was one of the few parts of my life she didn't exist in, and I was still hurting and angry. I had chained myself to the future of someone that would lie to me- who would ask me to put aside my courser nature as she violated my trust..

"....Shhhh" I heard from Yolanda in her breathy voice, the room still half dark.

"I wasn't saying any..." I replied, a bit injured and embarrassed at being called out on my dwelling.

"...Yeah you were." In the dimly lit room, her grey eyes shown like mother-of-pearl, her voice honest, but not unkind," Tom, your thoughts are so loud they're almost deafening." 

I opened my mouth again to protest, and before I could get any words out, she grabbed the back of my bald head with her small, strong warm hand, and pulled me down into a kiss. I was astonished by the suddenness, and though I was much stronger and larger, I was just a rag doll in her arms. Her lips were full, wet and sweet, covering mine like balmy bandages as her tongue gently darted into my mouth. She tasted like cloves and honey bread, the scent of her fresh and hot, wafting into my nose and mouth like a treat from the oven, and I kissed her back hungrily. She moaned into my mouth as my hands roamed down her back and cupped her bottom, drawn there, as as if it were the most natural place for them to be.

"You can squeeze harder Tom," Yolanda huffed into my ear, her breath steamy against my skin,"I'm not gonna break."

I did, and God and it felt wonderful to touch a woman again. I gripped her ass and hips in my large hands and she shuddered against me as I felt myself swell and harden in my slacks.

She held onto me tightly, her hands running down my back, nails lightly digging into the shirt and skin as I exhaled my own hot breath into her cheek, then deeply inhaled attempting to do with her sweet, heady earthy scent what my hands were doing with flesh.

I took one of my hands, started to run through my fingers through her long, thick ringlets, massaging her scalp through the thick jungle of her ebon locks. 

I couldn't believe I was actually doing this, I had just re...

"...Shhh," She whispered into my ear again, and she gave me wet, little smacking kisses on my neck as she clawed the back of my head to distract me. I kept my head shaved- just my way of bypassing male-pattern baldness, but what Yolanda did, her electric, nimble fingertips made me glad that I went through the daily hassle.

"It's okay to feel good Tommy- It's okay to enjoy life again..." Her tongue wet and agile wriggled into my ear and I couldn't help but moan against her.

I ran my free hand up her sides, her body all these wonderful curves and dips and bumps...

Her hand found mine and boldly placed it on her breast, and I gripped, feeling the heavy, firm weight of her flesh in my hand. At her encouragement, I gripped the warm, smooth mounds hard, and it was now her turn to moan. It was a sound so sweet and husky that it drove me wild, trapping reserves of passion I didn't know I had. I nipped at neck, sucking at that spot just under her ear and I could feel her roil against me, the scent of her arousal amplified, flooding the room and my brain.

"Oh...it's okay, rougher...you can..." She gasped, her hand scratching the back of my neck deep enough to leave marks as she pumped her heated sex against my groin.

I bit down softly and she whimpered and moaned, panting into my ear. Through her tight t-shirt, I could feel the lace of her bra underneath, and something else, I couldn't quite make out. I teased at it the round shape with the nail of my thumb and she moaned even louder.

Yolanda herself against me, and I was steel hard, hot and throbbing. I wanted...no, I needed this as much as she did.

As Yolanda flipped me onto my back, pushing me down against her bed, my eyes, which had a bit of time to adjust to plainly see her smiling down at me, full lips twitching into a deliciously wicked little smile and her grey eyes burning brands into me as she pulled up her shirt and revealed the creamy brown skin underneath, adorned in a variety of tattoos, consisting of everything from musical notes, words from random poems, to trees and stars. I saw that her bra actually understated her hourglass figure- her breasts were so very much more than a handful. I looked into the dark, wonderful expanse of her cleavage and she laughed knowingly.




Unexpected Relief Ch. 01



"Like what you see, Tommy?" Another seemingly innocent rhetorical question, that I knew it was anything but.

I didn't respond with words, my only, and best reply, was my blue eyes drinking in her beauty. That was all the answer she needed.

"You haven't even seen them out of the bra yet, but I think you'll like them..." She reached behind them, grinding herself onto me through my pants- I could feel the scalding heat through her jeans,"...I know I like them."

No doubts remained, this was a woman now- confident and beautiful... and she knew it.

Reaching behind her back, Yolanda deftly undid the snaps and her breasts, full and round, amazingly firm for their size, bounced out of their lacy prison. Her nipples were large, like black licorice gumdrops, the aureola's wide as teacups. I saw, glinting in the hazy light, what looked to be two rings, and I just stared in amazement. I was used to white girls, and the kind I had dated were rather thin and straight in their angles, milk and delicate roses. Yolonda was the best that round could give you, coffee and licorice and chocolate made flesh.

"Beautiful...God, 'Londa...you're gorgeous." I stared up at her and she reached down and took my glasses from me, putting them on her nightstand.

"I know I am... but it's so good to hear you say it, Tommy." She undid my shirt and her nails roamed through my chest hair to the enjoyment of both of us.

I sat up and took one of her full breasts into my mouth, worked my tongue on her hardening nipple, playing with the jewelry. I now understood the "point" of nipple piercings.

"Ohhhh yeessss...." Yolanda hissed, gripping my head," Just like that...God, I love the way your mouth feels on my tit. Suck it in with that wonderful mouth of yours, you fucker, bite it now- don't be shy!"

Janette, at least with me...had acted so prudish- like she was was some keepsake that needed to be sheltered from harm. I knew wasn't really the case after seeing how Peter treated her. I have to admit, it was a turn on for me to be rough like this. In response I sucked with greater fervor, delighting in the taste of the smooth, fragrant skin of her large, dark nipple and bit and tried to inhale her breast, an effort that was futile, given their size, but still immensely rewarding. Her hips pumped against mine, and her began to reach down between my legs.

"God, Tom, you're so hard...that cock...God Tommy, I've wanted this cock for years.!"

My hand gripped her ass again, hard, goaded on by my lust and her admission.

"You can spank me if you want to, be rough- I like it rough." I had always been gentle in my lovemaking- I was a big man, and I didn't want to hurt my partner, but I was beyond turned on right now- I trusted Yolanda to know what she wanted. In response, my large hand snapped onto her soft, supple ass, the report echoing throughout her small apartment like a gunshot.

"Aaaaaahhh....yeeeah!" She moaned and started to bite, then do this strange, but incredibly wonderful nibble/sucking motion on my bald head with those deliciously full lips of hers," Again!"

Smack! Smack! Smack! 

My hand warmed against her jean clad ass as I kept sucking and biting and chewing on her breast, instead of hurting her, it only turned her on even more. She shuddered, her hips undulating against me like a dancer's.

After several wonderful moments of her scratching at my pale, broad hairy chest like cat kneading, she lifted up and deftly undid my pants, yanking them down. I groaned at the sudden, but not unwelcome assault of her full, wet lips sucking on my throbbing, aching cock. Deftly she repositioned herself so I could see her grey eyes full of joy and lust staring back at me.

I heard her unzip the snaps on her own pants, and I moaned again at the action of her long, agile, pierced tongue against the underside of my cock.

"How...God...'Londa...God..." It was the best I could get out as I felt myself throb in her mouth, and I could hear the snap of her jean's fly and zipper. Even in the headiness of my pleasure, it was amazing to see her sinuously undo her jeans using just the motion of her hips and thighs, undulating in the most unbelievably erotic way, almost as if she were a snake molting. I felt my eyes roll back into my head as I felt her throat gripping me like a vice. I wasn't sure if I was her lover or her prey. 

I was so close..I didn't want to finish so early...I didn't...I wanted...I kept trying to warn her, but gasps and moans were all I could manage.

Instead of stopping, she only increased her pace, and I could see the triangle of purple silk against the fullness of her dark ass, my feet with shoes still on them, were flailing as her eyes smiled at me knowingly.

My hands found her hair as my hips pump of their own volition, and she kept going faster and faster, the wet noises of her mouth and throat filling the room, and I saw her snake a slender brown hand to play with her own needy cleft as the other grip her left breast, pulling on the large, dark and adorned nipple.

It was too much- it had been so long since I've felt the touch of a woman...and my God...

"Nngnnnnggggg!!!!!" I grunted, unable to form any kind of articulate words, cum erupting from me, scalding and thick into the hot, tight wetness of her throat. I could hear the delicious sounds of her playing with her own soaked sex and feel the moans she made in her throat, mouth and lips vibrate through the thick steel of my cock. Instead of recoiling, as Janette would- (on the rare occasions she would have deigned to give me oral sex) Yolanda slammed her mouth to the base of my dick and purred thirstily, giving herself a raw and powerful orgasm of her own as she expertly milked me of every last bit of seed. I could feel overflowing wetness against her sheets and the raw, rich scent of her just saturate the room.

Disappointed that it might be over, I waited to soften in her mouth, but I didn't. I was so turned on and she withdrew her mouth from my still aching, throbbing leaking member with a satisfied wet pop.

"I knew it," Yolanda murmured around me, as if she had been the first to discover something precious and hidden in plain sight.

Like a sleek cat, she smiled at me, contentedly licking the lips that had given me so much pleasure only moments before. I lay on her bed, my legs splayed and the pale, meaty spike of my manhood still throbbed and wet from the sweetness of her mouth and my climax. Languidly, lovingly she undid my shoes casually throwing them to the floor, pulling my slacks down and doing the same. Giving me a show, she slowly pulled her own panties down, and I saw with surprise, but not dismay- that she did not shave as was the current style. Her plump mound was covered by a dense thatch of curly hair, dripping and covered in moisture and scent- the lips of her sex were full and engorged with arousal.

I pulled her to me and we kissed, and I tasted myself on her lips and tongue, my hand gripping one of her large tits in my hand, gripping the flesh and playing and pinching the nipple. She moaned again throatily, her entrancing grey eyes opening briefly in ecstatic surprise before becoming lidded in smoldering lust.

As I held her close to me, I could feel her juices dripping onto my thigh, she was so wet and slick- her heat and scent wafting into me and like some succulent summer plum. I just knew I had to taste her. I threw her face down onto the bed, and she yelped in both surprise and delight, neither of us constrained any longer by inhibitions or clothing- her hips ground into the bed in anticipation. Gripping the bouncing cheeks of her ass, I buried my nose into her deep, sweet cleft and inhaled her intoxicating scent as she screamed into her sheets, her hips thrusting back into my bearded mouth. My tongue darted up and down the plump lips of her sex, and I licked her pussy like the delicacy it was, my hands continuing to grip the meat of her unbelievable ass, the dark, healthy flesh squeezing outward like dough. I buried my tongue deep into her tight wetness, and I could taste and feel her juices, like burning, sweet syrup on my tongue and lips. After just a few minutes my beard and chest hair was saturated with her, as she ground herself, moaning like a cat in heat against my face.

"Oh Tom...that's it...god...I love the way you feel...just like that, more...there...Tommy, God...eat that pussy...c'mon..." She was working her hips against my face and I felt myself dizzy and rutting, my cock aching and drooling again against her rounded calf and slender ankle. Shuddering against me again, Yolanda screamed in joy and her sex flooded with wetness, I did my damnedest to do what she did for me, drink in all of the heady spiciness of her ambrosia. Even in the throes of her climax she looked back, smiling at me, arching her muscular back. 

When the main quakes subsided a bit, she pulled me up to her with a beautiful fury, kissing me deeply, her tongue searching my mouth for her own taste. She held me tight, her nails scratching into my chest as I cradled her to me, reveling in the feel of her soft, supple body, with it's perfect dark, smooth, heated skin. I could feel the fullness of her breasts mashing into my chest, her nipple rings little spots of cool against the hot.

From the nightstand drawer she pulled out a condom and looked at me expectantly, her eyes large and luminous, thick ringlets sticking to her lovely brow from our efforts, her body more than primed, trembling with desire and want.

"I want you to fuck me now, Tom, right now...Please?" Despite her raw need, she almost looked as vulnerable and fragile as she did on the day we first met, all those years ago.

I simply nodded, and took the condom from her, unwrapping it and she watched with delighted rapture as I unfurled it onto my aching hardness. My eyes feasted in the beauty of her, this woman, this sexy, crazy wild woman who I had known for years, whose life I had touched, and who in turned touched my own, but was really just meeting for the first time tonight.

Laying gently against the bed she spread her legs, and I could see even through the thickness of her tightly coiled curls the plumpness of her clitoris poking from underneath it's hood- still oozing wetness in anticipation of me. I straddled her, I gazing into her encouraging, pleading eyes I entered her in one continuously slow, firm thrust. She moaned and cried into my ear, her short, but sharp nails digging into my broad back.

"Oh, God, oh God...YESSSSSS!" 'Landa hissed, her sweet, full lips on my neck, her strong supple hips thrusting up towards me- it was all so so hot, tight, wet and simply perfect. 

"Oh 'Landa...So this is so good" I confessed in grunting moans as I thrust into her again and again, she answered with her own cries and huffs as she mewled against me. We made the bed shake and I heard loud rockabilly music turned up in the background to drown out the noise we were making, though I no longer cared who heard.

"What is, baby?" Yolanda asked as she gripped me in her tight sheathe," Tell me, what's so good?"

"Your pussy...your pussy, it's so good 'Landa!" I confessed, almost weeping with joy as I kept thrusting into her, and she responded by meeting me halfway, our bodies melding into each other equally.

"So...so...is your cock, Tommy- you fuck...in...m-my cunt so fucking good!" She bit into my shoulder as she hissed out these words," Harder...please...God...harder!"

I slammed into her again and again- my body still so pent up from all those long months of denial. I surrendered to her urgings, her strong thighs and calves gripping my legs, locking me to her we fucked- every impact causing her full, lush flesh shudder and shake so deliciously.. I breathily moaned into her ear and she cried into mine. I loved the bittersweet pain of her nails in my flesh, and the constricting tightness of her pussy that almost hurt yet felt so good.

"C'mon Tommy...cum in me...cum in that pussy...it's just for you- let go...cum in my pussy for me like I wanted you to years ago, cum for me, Baby." Her grey eyes searched mine, and her tongue darted out from her full, plush lips into my ear."God...I'm cumming Tom. I'm cumming just for you baby...please cum for MEEEEE!!!!"

I could feel her scalding sweetness grip me like a fist as she exploded in wetness- and I thrust deep into her for a few more, frenzied times until I couldn't help but let go came into her, if I hadn't worn a condom, I would have surely coated the whole of her- our lips meeting to kiss deeply, passionately- For that moment, I'm sure that she and I are the only two people in the world, the only two in the very Universe.

She didn't let go of me, instead, holding me fast with her sexy, powerful legs, gripping me like a drowning woman. One of her soft, small brown hands cupped my cheek and I continued to empty even more of my spend into the condom and she just smiled with that smile of hers, the one that could penetrate any darkness and breathed into me as I softened, and I pulled, reluctantly from the wonderful haven of her womanhood.

Yolanda crooned into my ear, giving me little nips on my neck and she deftly took off the condom filled with my spent seed and tossed it into a wastebasket nearby.

I looked into her eyes and held her to me, enjoying her softness, her warmth, her lush wetness...this- this was so very, very sweet.

"Was I good for you, Tommy?" She asked me, her voice husky, with just a tiny hint of that leftover vulnerability.

I smiled down at her, gently brushing the thick ringlets of midnight hair from her face with the back of my handy- my mind full of the tender wonderful thoughts I had towards her. I drank in large grey eyes framed in the beauty of her full, round face and responded in my low rumble," You were...beyond wonderful. How...how was I?"

She smiled at me as she considered my question- the corners of her lips curling into a satisfied, bliss-filled smile," Just...just how I had hoped."

I held her to me, inhaling her scent in as little aftershocks shot through the both of us and my eyes grew heavy and lidded and I tried to keep them open.

'Landa repositioned herself and held me to her full breasts, gently running her small, soft hand over my head, kissing me. Against my ear she whispered," Those that go searching for love only make manifest their own lovelessness, and the loveless never find love...." 

I smiled and nuzzled into her, muttering into that expanse of firm, brown flesh, finishing the D.H. Lawrence quote she began...," -only the loving find love, and they never have to seek for it." 

And we with that, wrapped in each others arms we both fell asleep, and for the first time in months, I slept and forgot to be sad.