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Too Close for Comfort

By: leapyearguy



To say I'd snapped would be an understatement. What happened was too close for comfort.

I'd asked, no, begged all of them to stop the madness but none of them thought I was serious.

My wife, Carol: "Really Bill, she's just flirting. Why take it so seriously?"

The neighbor, Debbie: "Come on Billy, wouldn't you like to have a little fun now and then?"

The neighbor's husband, Mike: "She's a tease Bill that's all. It'll never go any further, and if it does, why not enjoy the ride."

I'm a mild mannered kinda guy but we all have our limits, as you will see. I've always prided myself on my ability to react well under pressure but I am by no means the aggressive sort. The other thing I'm proud of the most is my fidelity to Carol... or at least it was until I came unhinged. I fuckin' told em but they wouldn't listen.

I begged and pleaded with Debbie to back off, she flirted constantly. The looks, the touches and the never-ending sexual innuendo have been going on for years. Now that I look back, she's been that way since we met. Debbie and Carol work together so that's how we all became friends some eight years ago.

It wasn't too bad until a few months ago when she and Mike bought the house next door. Our previous neighbor, a widow, just didn't need that much space and decided to sell. Mike and Deb snapped it up as soon as it hit the market. My life has been going downhill since. Now most guys would be plumb tickled to see a beautiful big titted blonde move in next door. Me? Not so much. I like Deb and all but for Christ's sake, can't she take a break and cut me a little slack once in a while? It seems not and it's a big fucking joke to everyone but me. 

Sit tight and let me unwind this mess for you. I'm Bill, happy-go-lucky CPA and all-around standup guy. Yeah, I can guess what you're thinking, white bread, oatmeal and missionary only with the lights out. Well, trust me when I say that last part is Carol's choice not mine.

Let's not dwell on my life just yet, let's move on and meet the other players.

Carol: up to now, the love of my life. We met, we dated, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. There is really not much remarkable to tell except that she can be controlling at times. Oh, and the sex, yeah it's about like oatmeal. Pretty bland and I don't get it as often as I like unless I make it myself. 

Carol was raised in a strict religious home and knew little or nothing when it came to the bedroom arts. I learned soon after marrying her that sex wasn't going to be a big part of our lives so I adapted and accepted it. I took up hobbies and developed other interests to keep my mind off the infrequent sexual urges of my wife. With so much free time on my hands, I've become quite a handy guy when it comes to remodeling. I spend most of my free time at the home center and doing projects around the house. 

Let's move on to Mike, he's a good guy but looking at him, you wouldn't expect a guy like him to be married to such a hotty as Deb. Mike is obviously over weight, the plain and simple truth is he's fat. He's about five foot ten and I'd guess his weight at around three twenty or so. Now, the other thing you'll notice right away about Mike and Debbie as a couple, he's nearly fifteen years her senior. 

I get along well with him but I don't see him nearly as much as his wife. He's pretty much what you'd call a couch potato and while he watches TV, Deb comes to our house and visits with Carol.

That brings us to Debbie, the thorn in my foot. I really do like her but jeezus, you know, it gets tiresome rebuffing her obvious flirtations all of the time. Deb, as I have stated, is a beautiful woman. She is different than my wife in almost every department. Carol must have been in a different line when they passed out boobs, not to say that they're not nice but they don't compare to Debbie's jugs by any stretch of the imagination. Folks, we're talkin' plumbs to cantaloupes here if you get the picture.

Deb is what is referred to as voluptuous, while Carol is trim and fit. Both very nice but not the same. Where as Carol can barely fill out a pair of jeans, Deb has definite "junk in da trunk" and moves to accentuate that fact. The biggest difference however, is attitude. Carol does not act toward Mike the same way Deb does to me. Carol treats Mike as a friend only, or more like a brother or father. There have never been any implied or overt actions on either of their part.

I guess that's what bothers me about what Deb does, she looks the part and plays it so well. Now I don't know if all of this has been going on so long that nobody but me notices any more, or it's an intentional plot to drive me crazy. Maybe it's a test that Carol and Deb concocted to test my faithful nature. 

The one thing I do know is it's not purely accidental or innocent in regards to Deb's blatant attempts at seduction. Debbie purposely creates situations where we are put into close proximity. As an example, the four of us went out for a few drinks. Before anything could be said or done, Debbie was sitting next to me on one side of the booth while Mike and Carol were forced to take the other seat.

Oh there's more, Mike and my wife were seated a respectful distance apart. Deb on the other hand was almost in my lap. I looked at Carol for some indication of jealousy, she just chatted with Deb like I wasn't even there. 

At one point, I was forced out onto the dance floor. Christ almighty, Debbie was grinding her crotch so hard on my leg I'm sure she had to have had an orgasm. When I returned red faced and embarrassed to the table, Carol and Mike were talking about something they had both watched on the discovery channel. They hadn't seen a thing, or worse, maybe they didn't care. 

Now I'd be lying if I said Deb's dirty dancing didn't affect me, I was more than a little hard. I spent the rest of the evening prying Debbie's roving hands away from my unintentionally hard dick while Carol and Mike talked away about the ozone depletion.

At home later that night, I was ready to beg for a little attention from my wife. When she came to bed wearing her flannel pajamas I knew it wasn't going to happen. I went to the bathroom and made oatmeal.

I decide to talk to Carol about what was going on. She gave me the courtesy of listening before she laughed it off. 

"She's harmless Bill, just ignore it."

"Harmless my ass, someday Carol, someday she's going to go too far," I huffed.

I'd had that same talk with my wife many times before, I gave in to the fact that she just didn't care. I decided right then and there I would talk to Mike one more time and if he wouldn't stop his wife then I would, one way or the other. I was fed up. I had no idea how I was going to stop her but I would, yes I would, of that I was certain.

Mike was about as much help as I'd expected, even less so than my wife. One thing I learned was he seemed to be in favor of all the flirting. In some perverse way, Mike was the beneficiary of what was going on between Deb and I. Mike got the best sex of his life after his wife's attempts to fuck me. This was fucked up, I was doing all the work, kind of, and he was getting laid. 

"Bill, you should quit worrying. Just enjoy the attention," he rationalized.

"Aren't you even the slightest bit worried she'll go too far?" 

"As long as she comes home to me wet and horny, I'm cool with it."

All this chaos was almost more than I could handle, my life is orderly, coulombs and numbers that add up, and it all balanced. None of this situation made a bit of sense to me. I tried to analyze what was going to happen, it was going to be bad, you can't cheat the numbers. It was three against one, Deb liked to flirt, one for their side. Mike just laid back and let the wet pussy come his way, two for their side. Carol, she didn't seem to give a shit, well, fuck em all, it was time for this shit to come to a head.

Saturday, eight AM, I was up and at em, doing chores in the back yard. I saw Debbie tanning on her deck, she was wearing a bikini. She spotted me, I gave a less than enthusiastic wave back. I continued to mow the lawn.

A few laps around the yard latter, I noticed she had gone into the house. "Good," I thought, "leave me the hell alone."

The next lap she was back, ok, no big deal right? Wrong, she was now sporting a new outfit. It consisted of a pair of high heel shoes and a one-inch by two-inch patch of hair above her otherwise clean shaven cunt. Yes, I said cunt, would you prefer the term vagina? Now tell me that I'm making too much of all this.

Luckily I was finished with the yard work. I stood under the shower head letting the icy water pour over me for nearly twenty minutes. Shit, it had no effect at all, I was hard as an anvil. Carol came into the bathroom as I was drying off, she never once took her eyes off my swollen cock as she hung fresh towels on the rack. I knew better than to suggest sex at nine o'clock in the morning, it had never happened ever in our entire time together. I continued as if she wasn't there.

Carol informed me, rather than asked, that Debbie and Mike would be having dinner with us that evening. Carol could tell from my expression that she hadn't made my day.

"What the hell is wrong with you Bill, they're our friends," she said harshly.

Shit, Debbie was the last person on earth I wanted to see. I'd spent all morning trying to get her naked body off my mind. Now my wife tells me I have to spend the evening with her too. I felt crowded, as if I was being pushed into a corner.

My mood soured but Carol didn't even attempt to find out why. This must have been how Gary Cooper felt in the movie High Noon. A man pushed to the edge, nowhere to run and no one willing to lend a hand. My day of reckoning was nearing with each tic of the clock. Maybe that's a bit over dramatic but shit, that's the way it felt to me.

Shortly after Mike and Deb's arrival, we were at the table eating. I shifted the food around my plate as the others ate and enjoyed themselves. Debbie started in almost immediately, as she began rubbing my leg under the table with her bare foot. I didn't budge, why bother, she was coming at me and no one else gave a shit. Let her come, let's just see how fucking far this thing will go. My decision was made and I was not backing down any more.

With dinner behind us, Mike was suddenly making excuses to get back home. "His couch must be calling," I thought to myself. With him out of the way Debbie would begin to amp up the volume soon.

"Bill, would you grab another bottle of wine please," Carol asked.

She was finishing the dinner dishes as Debbie watched.

Almost immediately Deb said, "I'll go with you Bill, I'd like to see how the basement turned out."

I'd been remodeling a little and converting the open space into a recreation room. There wasn't much to see really other than the recent addition of a pool table and the wine storage racks that I'd built.

I followed her down the stairs, "This is nice Bill, I wish Mike was as handy around the house as you," she said, scanning the room.

"Thanks Deb, I'll just get the wine now and..."

"Oh don't bother," she said pushing her hand against my chest, "I'll get it."

As she moved toward the racks on the far wall, I watched her curvaceous ass. Deb was wearing a loose fitting very short dress, so it was impossible not to watch.

"Where's it at?" she asked.

"On the left, near the bottom."

What Debbie did next was to start the snowball rolling down the hill. With absolute certainty she knew exactly what she was doing and this was clearly no accident. She stopped in front of the wine bin, spread her legs slightly and bent at the waist to reach the bottle. Doesn't sound like much but you had to be there. 

What you have to realize is two part. First, her dress was so short it barely covered her ass while she was standing. With her legs straight and being bent at the waist, her dress rode up so that her entire formidable ass was on display. Oh that's not the worst of it, oh no my friends. The second and most important fact was that she wore no undergarments. 

Imagine if you will, how a man is supposed to act. The proper thing to do would be look away. The less appropriate but more likely thing would be to admire the aforementioned exposed genital region while enjoying the show, as it were. Another option, although not remotely acceptable by civilized standards, would be to go "caveman" and give in to the primal urge.

When Debbie's head appeared between her spread legs and asked, "Is this what you're looking for?"

I snapped. I totally regressed. Millions of years of evolution evaporated in the blink of an eye. I was transformed to the absolute base level of mankind.

The thought process was simple, "Pussy good, cock hard, fuck now," the words even came to me in grunts. At the moment, there was no right or wrong and consequences were the least of my worries. Debbie had been asking for this for years, she had worn my resistance down to the nub.

Debbie's hand had moved to her bare crotch and she was alternately fingering her clit and stuffing multiple digits into her now sopping pussy. My Neanderthal brain was trying hard to negotiate the simple operation of the zipper that would allow the "monster" to be free. Deb's other hand pushed on the wall, bracing her as her knees trembled while she continued to masturbate herself. 

"Godblamed muthafreepin slutslappin pants," I grumbled, then proceeded to ruin an eighty-dollar pair of Dockers by ripping them to shreds. Debbie was soaking wet by then and just as my cock was freed of the obstruction, I heard a screech behind me.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON DOWN HERE!" Carol screamed.

I turned my head to see her standing on the stairs watching. 

What could I have said that would have explained the scene before her? Even if I could have explained it, there is no goddamned way she was going to believe me. I was caught, there was no doubt about that. Deb had reduced my willpower to nothing, nobody but me saw this coming. Debbie was covering up and trying to look innocent now and there I stood with a hard dick in my hand.

I said exactly what was on my mind, "Carol, shut the fuck up and get down here."

She looked stunned as I continued, "Somebody, and I don't give rat's ass who, is going to get fucked."

Carol sneered and crossed her arms defiantly, "You can't talk to me like that. I'll... I'll..."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET YOUR FRIDGID ASS DOWN HERE... NOW!" I commanded.

Debbie was trying hard to slide by me without being noticed, "OH No, you're not going anywhere, you started all this and you're staying until it's over," I growled.

Carol hesitated, she was vacillating on what she should do. One second her foot would move as if she was going do what I said, the next, she moved toward freedom up the stairwell. 

I decided now was just as good a time as any to see just where I stood in our relationship, "Carol, if you walk up those stairs, then go ahead and keep walking. If you love me, now is the time to prove it. I won't run after you, it's all up to you now."

Which would she choose? I honestly didn't know what she would do. At that point, rational thought was returning to me. I knew how badly I'd screwed up and it was entirely possible that Carol wouldn't come down the stairs. As a matter of fact, given her propensity to do things her way, It was more than likely that I'd be wife-less in a matter of seconds. While she didn't exactly pounce down the stairs, she did come down. 

While most marriages are viewed as a partnership, with ours, Carol's and mine, Carol viewed herself as the senior partner. I'm not trying to say that she treats me with disrespect because she doesn't. I guess what I'm getting at is nothing in my dull boring life has been important enough, until then, to challenge Carol's self-appointed position. 

"But Bill, can't we talk about this in private?" Carol asked meekly.

Waving my hard cock in her direction, "NO! No more talk. You choose Carol, either you or Debbie, I don't care. Your so-called friend started this and one of you is damned well going to finish it. Somebody better be up on that pool table ready to fuck in ten seconds." 

At the time, I'd probably have agreed to fuck a billy goat but I preferred it to be Carol. I really didn't want to give Deb the satisfaction of winning her teasing game.

Carol shot an angry look at Deb.

Debbie glanced away but recovered quickly, "Carol I'm sorry, I went too far this time. Bill is absolutely right, I did start this but I never would have guessed it'd turn out like this. Do you want me to take care of him? I know you're not real comfortable when it comes to sex," she moved toward the table.

Carol, to my great relief, replied quickly, "Don't take another step Debbie, he's my man and if he's going to have sex, it'll damn sure be with me."

Moving slowly, she probably hoped I'd relent and at least let Debbie leave, no such luck. She started by kicking off her shoes then her jeans and panties. With her blouse still on, Carol made her way to the foot of the table.

"The top," I said, ripping open my own shirt and sending buttons flying in all directions. I was evolving but only about to Cro-Magnon by then.

"Bill," she whined, clutching the collar.

"The bra too," I added.

I lifted her so she was sitting on the edge of the table. She'd only managed the first button so I sped the process by starting at the bottom. My wife never had been comfortable with nudity and now she was about to be fucked in front of her best friend. I could only image what was going on in her head.

Slowly and with great care, I pushed her onto her back. She was lying directly under the brilliant pool table lamp, I admired her clear skin and the gentle curves of her trim body. 

Any other time that Carol and I had made love, there had always been a need for lubricant. I wasn't going to need it this time, she was going to provide her own. For the first time in all the years Carol and I were together. I spread her legs apart and lowered my head. She had never allowed me to give her oral pleasure before and was about to experience it for the first time.

As my tongue penetrated the folds of Carol's sex, she stiffened like a board. Her hands pushed the top of my head trying to repel my awkward assault. It had been many years since the last time I'd tasted pussy, before I'd met Carol in fact. I resisted her shallow attempt to stop me and continued to bathe her slit meticulously from bottom to top. It wasn't long before my wife relaxed, her hands were now tugging at my hair instead of pushing me away. 

While her insecurities screamed for me to stop, her body betrayed those feelings. Carol was responding in spite of herself. I was developing a good rhythm with my tongue now and she was rapidly gaining momentum towards her climax. When finally I started to concentrate on her tiny clit, she started to whimper and could hold back no longer. It was no earth shattering orgasm, probably comparatively tiny to the way most women cum but for Carol it was a first. Debbie had actually stood next to her best friend, she had held one of her hands and coaxed and cheered Carol through her orgasm.

Carol was wet now, wetter than I had ever seen her. I slid two fingers inside her and itched her g-spot, another new experience for her to be sure. The earlier whimpers had turned to grunts now and there was no pretence of resistance anymore. For the once, Carol wasn't merely doing her wifely duty she was participating.

Debbie was now up on the table with Carol's head in her hands, it was interesting how she gently stroked her face as one would a sick child. Her words were soft and meant to comfort and encourage, "That's it Honey relax and enjoy it," Debbie whispered soothingly.


Too Close for Comfort



I focused on the backs of her legs and turned the little wheel to focus more clearly. She was bending over one of her pots and pinching something on a plant to remove it. Her dress was riding higher and I glimpsed an extra three inches. As she attempted to straighten up she put both hands behind on her back and pushed herself upright.

I fantasised that I would stealthily creep up behind her and slide my hands under her dress. She would jump with surprise and then allow me to fondle her buttocks. I would pull down her panties and slide my fingers between her thighs to caress her eagerly awaiting pussy. She would gasp with pleasure and open her legs wider to invite further exploration. Her gasps would become moans of ecstasy and she would bend forward to allow me to enter her. I would slide my cock into her sopping hole and fuck her.

It was all too much so I turned away from the window and flopped onto my bed. My penis was rigid and I reached urgently for some tissue. I didn't want to come straight away so I gripped and just squeezed it while I continued my fantasy about Mrs Henderson.

Why did she excite me so much? She was roughly the same age as my mother but there was something incredibly sexy about her. The first time she excited me was when I was thirteen and I passed by as she stood by her front gate. She had bare feet with bright red painted toenails and she said, "Hello". She asked me how I was getting on at school but I couldn't take my eyes from her feet. I started to get an erection and put my hand in my pocket to disguise it. I haven't got a foot fetish and no woman's feet have turned me on since.

Her husband was a cab driver and worked until late hours. I often wondered if they had sex because if they did, it had to be during the day. He was a man who had little to say and always acknowledged me with a grunt

I continued my fantasy. She was moaning and begging me to fuck her harder so I thrust my cock violently into her.

I couldn't hold back any longer and quickly spread tissue over my chest. My strokes became faster and I could feel the early tingle of an orgasm.

Then I was interrupted with, "You randy bugger."

I looked up and it was Sis. My sister was nineteen and a year older than me. She was tall and blonde and the best looking girl around. We had always been good friends and there were no secrets between us.

She stepped into the room and shut the door. "Sunday afternoon is a strange time to be having a wank. What has brought this on?"

I said politely, "Will you be kind enough to fuck off. This is a personal matter between me and my dick."

She ignored my request and sat on the edge of the bed. "Answer my question; why are you wanking on the Sabbath? Something must have made the blood rush to that monster you call a penis."

I sighed and said, "Okay if you must know, I was in the middle of fucking Mrs Henderson and now you've spoiled it."

Her eyes opened wide in astonishment, "You're kidding me. Surely you don't mean Mrs Henderson from next door?"

I answered firmly, "Yes, Mrs Henderson from next door so now please go away."

She remained seated on the bed and persisted with, "I knew there was something weird about you. What on earth do you fancy about her? Not to mention that there is a slight age difference."

I decided to counter attack. Don't you ever fantasise about older men? When you're having a wank in the bath perhaps?"

"Who says I wank in the bath?"

"I stood on a chair and looked through the top glass."

She exclaimed indignantly, "What? You peeping Tom; you didn't really did you?"

"You put your heels up on both sides of the bath and squeak when you come."

She put her hands over her face and giggled. "Do I really squeak?"

"You whimper like a baby and then cup your hands over your pussy and push your fingers inside."

She giggled again. "How many times have you watched me?"

"Only twice and it was purely for scientific research. And if you must know, I've always fancied Mrs Henderson but don't ask me why."

She looked hurt. "You've never told me about this."

"Should I have?"

"I thought we were supposed to be buddies."

I felt guilty and replied, "We are buddies but it's a bit embarrassing to admit that you letch after someone who is old enough to be your mother."

She said generously, "Okay, I'll let you off just this once. Carry on then."

"Carry on what?"

"Finish what you were doing."

I wasn't embarrassed but I said, "I can't wank with you sitting there, it will ruin my concentration. Anyway it's wilted now and I've lost the mood."

She said, "Come on, be fair. You've watched me wanking in the bath so I want to watch you. Just shut your eyes and do to her what you were doing before. I want to watch you come."

I knew she wouldn't give up so I said, "Okay but don't interrupt."

My thoughts returned to Mrs Henderson who was bent over with her dress up and her panties down to her knees. Her pussy was hot and juicy and I began to thrust deep into her again. My cock was soon firm again and it was not going to take long.

Sis whispered, "What are you doing to her?"

I dropped my hand in frustration. "I told you not to interrupt. How can I maintain my train of thought if you keep talking?"

"Just tell me what you're doing to her; I want to know what makes you come. It's purely for scientific research."

I surrendered to her persistence. "All right but keep quiet." I closed my eyes and I was back to fucking Mrs Henderson again.

I began my commentary with, "She was in the garden and I crept up behind her and lifted her dress. I pushed her forward to make her bend over and pulled her panties down to her ankles. Now I've pushed my hand between her thighs to fondle her pussy. I've dropped my trousers ready to push my cock into her."

I announced, "Now that you're completely up to date, is it alright if I can now start to fuck her?"

Sis answered, "I'm really grateful for the background information and you may now continue. Just don't leave out any of the dirty bits."

I replied, "Well thank you very much. You've completely ruined what was intended to be a nice wank and it will be a miracle if I now manage to achieve an orgasm. It would have been less distracting in the local supermarket."

I continued with, "I'm sliding my cock in and out of her hot wet pussy and I'm grasping her around the hips and deliberately going slowly to tease her. She's moaning with frustration and begging me to go faster."

I was now rubbing my cock with firm strokes and my orgasm was getting close. "She's begging me to fuck her harder and I'm slamming it into her."

I couldn't carry on with the commentary and gasped, "Here I come." My balls started tingling and I groaned aloud as I spurted onto the tissues.

As my penis erupted, Sis cried out, "Oley!"

As the sensations began to fade, I dropped my hand to my side and said, "There, are you satisfied? Now we are even."

She stood up and said admiringly, "That was quite impressive. Robert never comes like that; his sort of dribbles out."

I responded, "Well that doesn't surprise me. He's a toffee-nosed twit who always looks as if there's a bad smell under his nose. Why on earth do you go out with him?"

"Because I love him."

I responded derisively, "Don't lie to me. With your classy looks you could have anybody you want. You couldn't possibly love a gormless plonker like him."

She answered, "You poor innocent boy, you don't understand true love. I love him because his parents are loaded and he's got a BMW convertible."

She turned away to leave the room with, "I'm going to brew some tea now, so wash your hands before you come downstairs."

******************************

At that time I was without a steady girlfriend. I went out with plenty of girls and I had no difficulty in obtaining dates but they were all casual relationships. I had some form of sex with all of them and they seemed eager to do it with me. I think it had something to do with the size of my cock and word must have got around.

I rarely went out with pretty girls who in my experience are usually the least sexy. I think it is because they expect to receive male attention simply by posing. I don't mean I deliberately dated those to whom nature had been unkind; I'm talking about girls who didn't stand out in a crowd but had a certain something.

I had a gift for picking those who enjoyed sex. I looked for one physical detail that told me she was the horny type and it rarely failed me. It is a small feature and I've always kept it a secret.

Needless to say it was particularly noticeable with Mrs Henderson and that was one of the reasons why she excited me. I longed to get inside her panties but the possibility of that seemed to be remote. That was until the day she was mowing her lawn.

I never saw her husband do any gardening and it was probably because he slept during the day and then worked until the small hours. Their garden was hardly a show piece and she struggled to keep it under control. On this occasion the grass had responded to a rainy spell and she was struggling to push a lawn mower through it.

I was on my way home from college and I stopped to watch her. I was genuinely concerned that she was going to hurt herself so I called out, "Mrs Henderson, would you like me to do that for you?"

She turned and looked at me gratefully. Her face was glistening with perspiration and her dress had dark patches under the arms. She was breathless from her efforts and said, "Oh Peter would you really? I would be so grateful because I just can't push it through this long grass."

I opened her gate and stepped onto the lawn. As I took over the mower I heard myself say, "A delicate damsel like you shouldn't be doing man's work." Immediately I thought, 'what a prick', why did I say something so corny?

She laughed and said, "Well thank you kind Sir. His Majesty is asleep of course; not that he would have offered to help anyway. I'm trying to keep this garden from becoming a sanctuary for wild life but I'm losing the battle. When you've finished, come in for a cold drink."

Although it was not a large lawn, it still took me forty-five minutes of hard work and I was constantly emptying the grass box. Mr Henderson's taxicab was parked in the driveway and just before I finished he came out. He stepped onto the lawn and pushed a five pound note into my hand. All he said was, "Here you are."

I made a brief show of protesting but a fiver is a fiver so I took it. It was nearly six o'clock and he got into his cab and drove off. I pushed the mower to the rear of the house and knocked on the back door. When she opened it I said, "Your husband gave me five pounds. I didn't do it for the money but thanks anyway. I'll be off now."

She replied firmly, "No you won't; you're coming in for some refreshment." With that she grabbed my hand and pulled me into the house. 

We went into the living room where there were two cans of beer standing on a side table. She asked, "You're old enough to drink aren't you? You're certainly big enough."

I replied, "Yes I'm legal." The can made a satisfying hiss when I opened it and I took some welcome gulps.

She was smiling as she watched me. "The other one is for you as well. I made myself some tea. Jack doesn't drink because of his job but I have the occasional beer. You're not going to miss an evening meal are you? I don't want to get into trouble with your mother."

We were sitting in opposite chairs and as I lowered the can I shook my head. "It's okay, I'm not late yet." I looked down to see that she had kicked off her shoes and her feet were bare. Her toenails were varnished bright red and my penis twitched.

I allowed my gaze to travel slowly upwards. She had shapely legs with neat ankles and her dress was just above her knees. She was quite slim but with an ample bosom and her dark hair was cut short. My eyes travelled back to her knees and I desperately wanted her to open her legs. I became aware that she was waiting for me to say something because I heard her say, "Well?"

I replied, "I'm sorry; what did you say?"

"I asked how you are getting on at college and what you are studying."

"I'm doing okay. I'm studying economics and also computer science."

She wanted my life story. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No one in particular."

She explained, "I ask only because I know that young men of your age get pretty randy."

I was surprised by the frank remark and I wondered if she was coming on to me. There was only one way to find out so I said, "I think about you a lot."

Her face coloured and she looked startled. "I beg your pardon?"

I was going for it. "I said I think about you a lot. You've always turned me on and I often fantasise about you when I'm doing you know what. Right now I'd love it if you opened your legs."

So that was it. I had plunged in head first and said it all; shit or bust.

She seemed to be in shock. Her eyes were wide open and her face was flushed. Suddenly she stood up. "I'm sorry Peter but you've overstayed your welcome. I think you should go now."

I also stood up. "I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you Mrs Henderson but I was just telling you the truth. I'll let myself out. Oh and thanks for the beer and the fiver."

It was just a short distance to my own front door and I went straight up to my room. I heard my mother call out, "Is that you Peter? Dinner is nearly ready."

I called back, "Okay Mum."

I could hear music coming from Sis's room so I knocked on her door. She was lying on her bed with a book. She looked up and enquired, "What's up Bruv?"

I sat on the edge of her bed and said quietly, "I have just done something that may have been a serious mistake."

She looked concerned and asked, "What?"

"I just asked Mrs Henderson to open her legs for me."

Her expression didn't change but she sat up slowly and then reached out and switched off the music. She said very slowly, "Would you mind repeating that because I thought I heard you say that you asked Mrs Henderson to open her legs."

"You heard it correctly."

Sis looked at me with a serious gaze. "Would you like to tell me the whole story?"

I related the events of the past hour and asked, "What do you think I should do?"

Sis puckered her face as if in thought and then said, "Well you have a few choices. You could try pleading insanity or better still, you could change your identity and go into hiding for a couple of years. Perhaps you should leave the country altogether and go perhaps to South America. My best suggestion however is that you should just commit suicide. The reason I favour suicide is because if She mentions it to either Daddy or Mummy, it will save them the trouble of killing you."

"So you don't think they will see the funny side of it?"

She ignored that and said, "What on earth were you thinking? It wouldn't be so bad if she lived a couple of streets away but she's our next door neighbour for fuck's sake."

"So I'm dead then."

"As a Dodo."

I stood up. "Well thanks for the advice; I knew I could count on you."

Sis got off the bed and put her arms around me. "Do you want me to go and talk to her? Tell her you're a druggie and you completely lose it sometimes. Seriously though, maybe she feels flattered and she'll keep it to herself. You know; young man fancies her and all that."

I just hoped Sis was right and she would keep it to herself, but I didn't sleep very well that night.

******************************

A week went by during which I came home each day by a roundabout route so I didn't have to pass Mrs Henderson's front gate. As each day passed I felt easier but then one day she was waiting for me. As I approached from the other direction she beckoned silently with her finger.

I passed my own house and said weakly, "Hello Mrs Henderson."

All she said was, "My grass needs cutting again."

I looked at her lawn and it didn't seem too bad to me. "When do you want me to do it?"

She replied, "Now would be a good time it shouldn't take you long. When you've finished you can come in for a beer." She added, "Jack's gone to work early." Her last remark seemed irrelevant.

She reached out and took my brief case with, "I'll look after this."

The mower was already standing there so I started cutting her lawn. It took about fifteen minutes and I didn't get much grass off it. I pushed the machine to the rear and knocked on her back door. When she opened it I said, "I've finished so may I have my case please?" Her feet were bare with red toenails.

She turned and walked away. "Come in and get it." I was dubious about going into the house but it seemed pointless to stand outside the backdoor so I followed her into the living room.

She sat down with my case on her lap. I stood in the middle of the room with my hand out. "May I have it please?"

She replied, "In a minute; sit down."

I hesitated and then sat in the opposite chair. I said, "Mrs Henderson please let me apologise for saying what I did the other day. I didn't mean to insult you; I don't know what came over me...."

She held up her hand to silence me so I tailed off. She replied, "That's okay I forgive you." She looked at me in silence for a moment and then asked, "Do you really fantasise about me when you do you know what?"

"Yes."

"How often do you do you know what?"

"Every day; sometimes more."

There was a long silence and I guessed what the next question was going to be. She asked it quietly. "What do you do to me?"

I didn't see any point in beating about the bush so I replied, "I fuck you."

She closed her eyes. After a few seconds she opened them and said, "Young man, you have a very direct and somewhat disconcerting manner. Do you not think that perhaps 'make love' would have been a more acceptable answer?"

I replied, "Make love, fuck; what's the difference? I like to tease you until you're begging for it."

She gave a short laugh and said, "I don't think the Diplomatic Corps is ever going to be for you."

She continued, "I'm pretty sure what the answer will be, but do I beg for it?"

"Always. You're a great fuck Mrs Henderson and the best I've ever fantasised about."

She laughed again and said, "Well thank you, I'm really flattered. You are a very interesting though somewhat tactless young man."

We sat in silence while she stared at me with the hint of a smile. The next move was hers and I tried to imagine what was going through her mind. As far as I was concerned, she had initiated the conversation so I considered myself to be off the hook.

Eventually she spoke. "The last time you were here you asked me to open my legs."

I remained silent. She was struggling to make a decision and my heart was pounding.

Very slowly her knees began to part and she watched to get my reaction. As her legs opened, I could see smooth thighs and then red panties. My penis was stiffening and I didn't attempt to hide it. Her knees were about twelve inches apart and she asked, "Is that wide enough for you?"

"No, wider please."

Tantalisingly the distance between her knees slowly increased and as her dress began to stretch, she reached for the hem and pulled it up until her thighs were completely uncovered. My penis was throbbing and I wondered if I was going to come without actually touching it.

As she sat with her knees wide apart and her red panties clearly in view I noticed that she was breathing quickly. Then she whispered, "Are you enjoying the view? I see that you have a bulge in your trousers so show me what's in there."

I reached for my zipper and then I thought, 'No, I want to see hers first'. So I said, "I show you mine when you've shown me yours Mrs Henderson."

For a few seconds she didn't move and I thought we had reached an impasse. Then she reached between her thighs and hooked her finger into the crotch of her panties. With a quick movement she pulled it across and released it immediately. I saw a flash of pubic hair and that was all.




Too Close for Comfort



I was determined to get an unrestricted view of her pussy so I said. "I don't know what shutter speed that was, but I'll show you mine when you've shown me yours properly. So pull you panties to one side and hold them there."

She responded indignantly, "Young man you are in my house so don't give orders to me. I asked first."

I felt a bubble of hysteria rising. The whole situation was ridiculous and we were behaving like a couple of children. But it wasn't as if she was my first sexual experience so I persisted.

I spoke calmly. "Let us recap. Who started this conversation, was it me? No, I don't think so. Did I ask you to open your legs? No, you did it voluntarily. If you don't want to show me your pussy, just say so and I'll go home."

Another silence ensued while she stared at me defiantly. Was she going to call my bluff? Then she reached down and hooked her finger into her panties again. I saw her take a breath and then she pulled them to one side and held them there.

At last all my fantasies were coming true. I could see crimson lips pouting and there was a dribble of moisture. She had dark pubic hair and some of it was matted as if wet. She had the female equivalent of an erection.

It was time to do swaps. I pulled down my zipper and reached inside. My cock was so hard I had difficulty in getting it out but when I did it rose to its maximum elevation.

I looked across and she was staring in disbelief. She said in awe, "My God is that real?" but I was used to that sort of reaction.

I glanced at my watch and had a shock. It was getting on for seven and I had completely forgotten that it was my mother's birthday. I put my cock back in its cage and stood up. I said apologetically, "Mrs Henderson, I know this is very bad timing but I have to go home."

She squawked, "You what? I can't believe you're serious. We were just getting to know each other and now you're leaving me in the lurch. Jack won't be home for ages, can you come back later?"

I felt desperate. "I can't. I really want to but it's my mother's birthday."

She pulled down her dress and said, "Well thank you very much. I thought today was going to be my birthday."

"What about tomorrow?

She replied, "Unfortunately the next five days are completely out. Jack's taking them off which is why he's working all today."

I counted quickly on my fingers. "Monday then; will you still be in the same mood?"

"If I haven't frigged myself to death by then."

I bent down and kissed her on the cheek. "Mrs Henderson, you are and always have been my ultimate fantasy and next Monday I want to turn it into reality. But now I've got to go."

She was still sitting there looking glum as I rushed out. When I opened my front door, Sis was waiting in the hallway. She hissed, "Where have you been you idiot? Dinner has been ready for half an hour and Daddy is going to kill you."

I took a huge stride up the stairs and then stopped. I turned and whispered, "I've been looking at Mrs Henderson's pussy."

I left her standing there with her mouth open.

My mother forgave me as she always did, especially as I had spent my life savings on a watch which she genuinely loved. My father gave me his menacing look but my mother spotted it and said, "Forget it John. Don't tell me you've never been late for someone's birthday. We are together now and that's all that matters."

My mother was a darling but sweetly naive. My father was a fair man but he had strict rules. He would not tolerate disrespect and, in his eyes, the most heinous crime of all would be to bring shame upon the family. We all loved him but he also scared us.

The tension eased quickly and we drank champagne and laughed a lot. Sis never took her eyes from me and she must have been squirming with curiosity. After dinner we played silly games and mother had a great time. It was midnight before we all retired to bed.

I lay on my bed and waited. It wasn't long before the door opened and Sis crept in. She was wearing a brief yellow nighty and looked cute, but she could look sexy in a potato sack. We had an unusual and intimate relationship but sex played no part in it. We respected each other too much for that.

She said quietly, "Okay spill the beans."

I put on a puzzled look and said, "What about?" She pinched my leg painfully and I yelped."

She hissed menacingly, "Don't fuck about; just tell me what happened."

I related the story and she listened in silence. At the end of it she said, "The randy bitch. Are you going fuck her next Monday?"

I recoiled in horror. "Good heavens, how could you suggest such a thing?" and then, "What do you think I'm going to do; play Scrabble with her? Of course I'm going to fuck her because she's definitely up for it. In the meantime I will probably wank my brains out so I might need to borrow some tissues."

Sis had a strange look on her face so I asked, "What's up?"

She sort of half smiled and replied, "I don't know. You're my baby brother and I don't know if I want an older woman leaving finger marks all over you. It's alright with girls of your own age because that's normal but an older woman? I think I'm jealous." 

I sat up and put my arms around her. I kissed her on the forehead and said, "Please don't be jealous; you are really my dream girl but unfortunately you're also my sister. You can come along and referee if you like. If she looks like she's going to touch my willy or do something rude like that, you can blow a whistle and show her a yellow card."

She stood up and said in a serious voice, "Just be careful and don't let her husband catch you. And for God's sake don't let Daddy or Mummy find out or you won't be left with a willy for her to touch."

******************************

The next five days seemed like five weeks but eventually Monday arrived. During the lunch break, I phoned her on my mobile. All I said was, "Eight o'clock okay?"

She answered simply, "Yes," and then added, "Hold on a minute; it's not anyone's birthday is it?" I laughed and ended the call.

After dinner I got up casually from the table and said. "I'm going out folks and I'll be home about eleven." My parents looked surprised because I would never usually make such a formal announcement and I saw Sis close her eyes in despair.

When I came out of the shower, she was sitting on my bed. She was looking really worried and said, "Peter please be careful." She never called me Peter; it was always 'Bruv' or 'Shit For Brains'. She was beginning to make me feel nervous.

After leaving the house, I strolled casually for a few paces and then turned quickly into the Henderson gateway and ran on tiptoe along the side of the house. When I tapped on the back door it opened immediately.

She was wearing a simple red dress with a deep neckline and I could see the sides of two nicely rounded breasts. There was a pleasant whiff of perfume lingering and she had bare feet with red toenails.

I stepped inside and she closed the door quickly. She said in a serious tone, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I answered, "What would you say if I said no?"

She replied calmly, "I wouldn't say anything; I would just knee you in the balls."

I announced, "Well that seems to be fairly persuasive so I'm sure I want to do it."

She turned and made for the foot of the stairs but I stopped her with, "Where are you going?"

She looked surprised. "Civilised folk usually have sex in the bedroom."

"Well I'm too young to be civilised; I'm eighteen and a bit. Let's carry on where we left off last time. You were showing me yours and I was showing you mine. We can go upstairs later."

In a tentative tone she said, "You might be eighteen and a bit but I am not. I haven't had sex for a long time, so I'm nervous."

"What are you nervous about?"

"I'm nervous that you might be disappointed. You seem to know what you're doing and it should be the other way around."

I stepped forward and picked her up in my arms. She was surprisingly light and I carried her into the living room and lowered her into a chair. I sat opposite her as before.

"Okay Mrs Henderson I'm in charge. Please remove your panties."

She said, "Wouldn't you like to call me Betty, or Bette which I really prefer?"

"You're always Mrs Henderson in my fantasies so that's what I prefer. I see you haven't taken off your panties yet, so what are you waiting for?"

She hesitated and then reached under her dress. She lifted herself and slipped her panties down. As she took one foot out she kicked with the other one and they landed in front of me. I lifted them to my face and inhaled deeply. They had an acrid and exciting smell. My penis began to rise.

I said quietly, "Open your legs as wide as you can please."

She closed her eyes and slowly her legs opened until they were wide apart and I had a full view of her pussy. It was a gaping crimson slit with visibly wetness. The labia lips protruded noticeably and the hood of her clitoris was dark brown and quite large. Her chest was rising quickly with every breath she took.

I asked softly, "Do you feel excited? Still with her eyes closed she nodded her head, so I continued, "Keep your eyes shut."

Quietly I left my chair and knelt in front of her. I had my cock in my hand and I was gripping it tightly. Without touching any part of her body, I moved my head forward until my mouth was an inch or two from her pussy. There was a tiny dribble coming from the base of it and the scent of her filled my nostrils.

I reached out with my tongue and lightly touched her clitoris. She hadn't been expecting it and she jumped as if she'd been electrocuted. I said, "Keep your eyes closed."

She had her hands on her bosom and was squeezing both breasts through her dress. I flicked her clitoris with my tongue again and she gasped. I waited and when I didn't continue, she thrust her pussy forward to where she hoped my tongue would be and whispered, "Please don't stop."

I touched the firm nodule with my tongue again and then gripped it gently with my lips. With the faintest of pressure I gently sucked and nibbled and she moaned piteously. Then still holding it with my lips, I caressed it with the tip of my tongue at a steadily increasing pace.

Soon it was enough and her thighs clamped to the sides of my head and she grabbed my hair. Her body began to jerk convulsively and she cried out as if in pain. I felt a warm splash on my chin.

She was gripping my hair painfully and grinding her sopping vent into my face as her orgasm peaked. Then as the exquisite agony slowly faded she began to relax. Finally her thighs parted and she let go of my hair.

She opened her eyes and gazed down at me with an expression of wonderment. She said, "Finally I know what an orgasm is supposed to feel like. That was unbelievable; I've never experienced anything like that before."

I arose from my knees and went back to my chair with my cock extending horizontally. I had a dull ache in my balls and I knew there was going to be only one way to relieve it. She was looking at it questionably and asked, "Do you intend to use that?"

I answered, "Why do you think I brought it with me? I'm going to fuck your brains out with it."

She replied, "How very romantic."

I responded with, "If you want romance you should have said so because I'm the wrong guy. I'm here only for sex. I can't remember how many times I've fucked you in my imagination but it must be close to one thousand. I'm young and I'm fit and I have the sexual urge of an animal, so get ready for it."

She responded disdainfully, "You don't frighten me Buster; I've been fucked by better men that you. Okay so it was only in my fantasies and I may have to upgrade the size of their cocks now that I've seen a real one."

I stripped quickly and stood in front of her. I enquired, "With or without your clothes on?"

She arose from her chair and in one movement peeled off her dress. She was not wearing a bra and her breasts were larger than I expected but firm. Her stomach was flat and I could see the white marks of a bikini line and guessed that she sunbathed in her back garden. I had never thought of peering over her back fence.

I stepped back and said with genuine admiration, "Mrs Henderson I am impressed, you have a body to be proud of."

All she said was, "I try."

I put my hands on her waist and turned her around. "Bend over and support your weight on the arms of the chair, I'm going to back scuttle you." Obediently she obliged.

I pushed her feet apart with mine and reached under for her pussy. As I stroked it softly with my fingers she whispered, "It's going to fit in is it? Will I need a local anaesthetic?"

When her pussy was sufficiently juicy, I guided my cock slowly into it and said, "Say when."

She replied, "I ain't saying nothing."

I had masturbated earlier in the hope that it would delay my orgasm and I began with slow measured strokes. I kept that up until she said, "I know that you are going deliberately slowly to tease me and I'm going to start screaming in a minute. So unless you want to rouse the whole neighbourhood, you had better speed up the action."

That was all I wanted to hear so I increased the pace. As my thrusts became stronger I could feel a tingle beginning so I said, "I'm going to come soon Mrs Henderson."

All she was, "Just shut up and fuck me."

For the final few thrusts I drove my cock into her savagely and our bodies slapped loudly together. With each brutal push she gave a tiny squeak. Then I began to spurt and I could hear myself snarling like a wild animal.

It was the longest and most intense orgasm that I had ever experienced and it seemed to go on forever. Eventually it finished and my legs buckled. I collapsed on top of her and my weight also caused her arms to give way. We both fell in a heap but I rolled onto the floor and lay on my back, panting as if I had just run a Marathon.

With an effort she turned in the chair and slumped down with her legs outstretched and her feet on my chest. Neither of us said anything for nearly a minute until she whispered contentedly, "That was a very enjoyable fuck young man."

I said, "Me too."

A few more seconds passed in silence but suddenly she exclaimed, "Jesus," and leapt to her feet. She rushed out of the room and I panicked. It could only be her husband arriving home so I grabbed my clothes. I dressed frantically and was trying to sit casually in a chair when she strolled back in. As she was still naked I immediately dismissed her husband's return.

I asked desperately, "What the fuck was all that about?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean nothing? I thought it was your husband coming home and I nearly shit myself."

She giggled and said, "Oh forget him; he won't be home for ages. If you must know I thought I was going to seduce you upstairs and I left joss sticks smouldering and candles alight. When I went up I expected to find the bedroom curtains ablaze."

I put my head in my hands in despair. "For fuck's sake don't ever do that again or you'll make me impotent. May I use your shower?"

"Go ahead, I'll follow you."

When it was time to go, we stood at the back door in semi-darkness. She must have felt unsure because she whispered, "Do you want to do it again some time?"

I felt genuine affection for her which is quite unlike me. I gently took her face in my hands and kissed her lips. "We've only just begun Mrs Henderson. An exciting sexual adventure lies before us just waiting to be explored. Say when."

"Thursday?"

"Thursday it is; so goodnight and sweet erotic fantasies."

When I arrived home, my parents were watching television. I poked my head into the lounge and said, "Hi."

My mother asked me if I'd had a good time and I said I had. I went to my room and surfed on the Internet for a while and then lay on the bed. I knew there was no point in going to sleep because Sis would want to hear the story and she was out with friends.

About half an hour passed and I heard her footsteps on the stairs. She came straight into my room and sat on the bed. She said unceremoniously, "Start from the beginning and don't leave anything out."

I related the evening's events in graphic detail and didn't embellish any of it. When I was describing the clitoris licking part she said, "What a lucky bitch."

"Why did you say that?"

"No one's ever done that to me. Robert wouldn't know a clitoris from an elephant's dick."

I was surprised. "Are you telling me that no one's ever licked your pussy?"

"I didn't say that."

"Yes you did. You said no one's ever done that to me."

She hesitated. "Well I didn't actually mean no one."

She had my full attention now. "What do you mean then?" I added, "Remember, we have no secrets between us."

She was struggling with it. "Are you really going to drag this out of me?"

"Of course I am."

She sighed resignedly. "Okay, what I meant was no man has ever done it."

I sat up straight. "Now we are getting somewhere. By a process of elimination that would leave only another female as the likely culprit. Do I know her?"

"Not unless you went to my boarding school."

I was triumphant, "So it was one of your school friends. Elementary my dear Watson."

"Could have been one of the teachers."

Now I was completely hooked. "Even more interesting. So was it one of the teachers?"

"Might have been; among others."

I was astounded. "Others? Fucking hell, you must have passed your pussy around like a lollipop."

Sis held up her hand to silence me. "Look Shit For Brains; you went to a mixed school and spent your entire school life feeling girls' tits and trying to put your hand up their skirts. I was away at a girl's school and we all had pussies. We formed our own relationships. Girls were in love with teachers, teachers were in love with girls and girls were in love with each other. It was inevitable that some of it got physical.

I'm not a raving lesbian and anyway we were talking about your evening with Mrs Henderson. I'll tell you about my school sex some other time."

With reluctance I agreed, "Alright I'll take a rain check on that but don't expect me to forget about it. Okay I'll finish my story."

When I got to the end Sis said, "Is this going to be a regular thing then? Because if it is, sooner or later you're going to get caught."

I answered, "Well I like her, quite apart from the sex, and there's not a lot of travelling involved. I know there's a huge age gap but it doesn't feel like there is. She's cute and she makes me laugh. It will probably all end in tears but so what; let's make hay while the sun shines."

Sis stood up to leave. "Okay live dangerously but remember what one of the Greek philosophers said; and I think it was Pythagoras. He said, 'Never shit on your own doorstep'. Sleep tight Bruv."

******************************

When Thursday's evening meal was over, I thanked my mother and left the table and this time without making any unusual remarks. A quick shower and a few minutes later I was tapping on the door. She opened it immediately and said, "Hello lover."

She turned and went into the living room but I went to the foot of the stairs. I waited until she came out again. She looked at me and asked, "Why are you standing there?" 

"I thought you wanted to make love in the bedroom."

She put her hands on her hips and said impatiently, "I wish you'd make up your mind. Last time you didn't want to go upstairs."

I replied, "Civilised folk usually have sex in the bedroom." I stood aside to let her go first and then grabbed one foot. As she tripped flat, I lifted her dress and pretended to bite her buttock accompanying it with growling noises. She squawked with laughter until I let her go.

She ran on ahead and when I entered the bedroom she was lying on the bed. She was on her side and supporting her head with one hand. Her eyes were sparkling and her face was flushed with pleasure. She said, "You make me feel like a teenager again."




Too Close for Comfort



I sat on the edge of the bed and she turned onto her back. She lifted one leg and stretched it across my lap. Quietly she said, "Just in case you've been thinking about it, I know this won't last forever and sooner or later you'll move on. I just want to enjoy you for as long as you're here. When my time is up I'll kiss you goodbye and say thank you."

I responded in a sober tone, "That all sounds a bit premature Mrs Henderson. We have hardly begun to know each other so it was a bit serious for only a second date. I was just developing a nice erection and now it's started to droop."

She said apologetically, "I'm sorry and perhaps I shouldn't have said anything but I just wanted to...."

I interrupted with, "Perhaps you should just get your knickers off."

She put both hands behind her head and said defiantly, "If you want them off then you take them off."

"Okay I will."

I lifted her dress and lowered my mouth to her panties. I gripped the flimsy material in my teeth and tugged. I didn't realise how difficult it would be, especially the area close to her pussy. After a minute or two during which she asked me to leave her some pubic hair, I decided I was doing it the wrong way. Instead of starting at the lower part and pulling, I should have gone to the top and peeled them downwards.

I grasped the band of her panties in my teeth and by lifting her buttocks I eventually managed to drag them all the way down to her ankles.

She was giggling the whole time but finally I was looking at her naked pussy. She was quite aroused because it had opened like a flower and was very wet. I said, "Show me how you wank."

She said coyly, "I never thought I'd be showing anyone how I masturbate. Well sometimes I lie on my back and rub it here." She demonstrated by touching her clitoris. "And sometimes I lie on my stomach and do it backwards." She immediately flipped over and reached between her legs to caress herself. "When I'm in the bath, I often rub it with a bar of soap. How do you do it?"

"Just the standard way as described in the works manual. I showed her with a few quick strokes. "I'm not familiar with any other method but I expect some exist."

She whispered, "Shall we do it together? It would be exciting if I watched you knowing that you are watching me."

My response was, "I would also enjoy that but there is a technical problem. You might be able to come two or three times in rapid succession but I need a period of recovery afterwards, and the length varies. So if you want to be fucked properly, we'll have to do that first and I'll hold back my orgasm."

"Can you do that?"

I replied, "Well I imagine myself sitting in the dentist's chair with the drill hovering and it usually works."

She laughed, "You think of everything. How shall we do it?"

"It's your call."

She was giggling with excitement. "Okay I'm in charge then." She peeled off her dress and said, "Let's start with the missionary position."

I got on my knees in readiness.

"No wait a minute I've changed my mind. I'll think I'll go on top."

I sat down again.

"No I was right the first time; we'll save the good ones for some other time."

This time I didn't move.

She raised her legs and held them up wide apart. After a few seconds, she lifted her head and peered at me through her open legs. "Come on then, I'm ready."

I said, "I'm waiting for you to change your mind again."

"No this is definitely the one....I think."

I flopped onto my back and gurgled with laughter. This was supposed to be a horny liaison but instead I was just enjoying her nonsense.

Eventually I got to my knees and crawled towards her. I looked down and my cock was at half mast. I pointed to it and said, "See what you've done to me."

She looked at it with a serious expression. "Okay, bring it up here and I'll give it a blowdry."

"It's blow job."

"Whatever."

I crawled along straddle fashion until I was dangling it just above her face. She reached up and waggled it a couple of times. She took the glans between her lips but almost immediately removed it and said, "I've never done this before so don't get critical."

I clenched my teeth and growled, "Do you want to be fucked today or not?"

"Ok, ok, keep your hair on."

Within a minute she had got the hang of it and it was obviously exciting her because she reached under me and was fondling her pussy. She had my cock throbbing in no time so I said, "Right, it's time to fuck."

I shuffled backwards to position myself in a strategic position and was about to insert my stiffened rod when she grabbed it. She whispered, "I want to put it in."

I was expecting her to insert it but instead she gripped it and rubbed the end of it back and forth against her pussy. She was sopping wet with her secretions and it made an audibly sound. I heard her suck in her breath and then she closed her eyes. She said breathlessly, "I desperately want to push it right in but I'm teasing myself. When I do push it in I'll come quickly because I'm almost coming right now."

Eventually she moaned, "I can't take any more; I want all of it inside me." She pushed in my cock to its fullest extent and pleaded urgently, "Please fuck me now and as hard as you like."

I put my hand under her bottom and the other one behind her back and lifted her clean off the bed. I used her like a blow-up doll, ramming her onto my cock as hard as I could. Her face was into my neck and her hands were behind my back. Her whimpers became urgent cries as her orgasm started and her nails dug painfully into my flesh.

Although I was imagining myself in the dentist's chair and desperately trying not to come, I was losing the battle. Then I reached the point of no return and surrendered. My balls tightened and my semen began to spurt. I could hear myself growling and she was emitting piercing shrieks as our orgasms clashed.

As my climax faded I tried to lower her onto the bed but the strength had left my body and I fell on top of her. For a while neither of us said anything but then I whispered, "I'm afraid we'll have to forget about masturbation for a while. I tried to hold back but you made me come you horny bitch."

She was delighted. "Did I, did I really? Am I a good fuck then?"

"You sure are Ma'am; one of the very best."

She kissed me on the cheek and said, "That's the nicest compliment I've ever had. Say some more nice things."

I thought for a moment and then said, "You are so sexy I don't know whether I'm coming or going."

She squealed with laughter and clapped her hands. We lay side by side looking into each others eyes until she asked wistfully, "Why are you only eighteen and a bit?"

There was no answer to that.

******************************

At home and lying on my bed I tried to assess the situation. I said to myself, "Now listen Peter, you're a tall young not bad looking guy with a big cock and the chicks like you. You've shagged a few already and there are many more lined up and waiting. Why then are you looking forward to the next time you risk your life to spend an evening with a women who is old enough to be your mother? Is it just the conquest? Do you want to brag about it to your mates? Or is there another reason?"

Nobody answered my questions and I waited for Sis to come home. When she came into my room, she looked at me and said, "Jesus Bruv you're looking serious. What happened tonight?"

I answered, "Nothing happened; we just had sex."

"Why the long face then?"

I replied, "Sis, I think I'm cracking up. It's not just the sex, which incidentally is very good, I actually like being with her. If I said I would be happy to spend an evening in her company without any sex, would you believe me?"

She stared at me for a long time before she said, "Try it."

"What?"

"Try spending an evening in her company without sex. Take a pack of cards."

I thought about it for a few seconds and then said bravely, "All right I will because you don't think I can. Well I'll prove to you that's it's not just her pussy that I enjoy. I'm seeing her on Monday and a pack of cards it will be."

******************************

Monday came and I tapped on her door. She was wearing a dress that was quite simple and wasn't showing too much breast. She had bare feet of course and stood on tiptoe to give me a light kiss on the mouth. She said "Hi".

She started to climb the stairs and I walked into the living room and sat down. A few seconds later she appeared in the doorway with her hands on her hips. She said in a menacing voice, "You're doing this on purpose aren't you. If you think you're going to make them put me away, I saw that film too and the bad guy gets it in the end."

I produced the pack of cards and said sublimely, "I thought we'd play cards this evening instead of having sex."

She looked startled, and then in a worried tone, "Are you all right? It hasn't dropped off has it; or is it just the wrong time of the month?"

I replied, "Very funny. If you must know, this is a magnanimous gesture on my part to prove to you that I also enjoy just your company. And in addition, to demonstrate that it isn't necessary for us to fornicate like disgusting wild animals in order to enjoy an evening together."

"But I want to fornicate like disgusting wild animals."

I spoke firmly, "Well you can't so sit down and behave yourself. Do you know how to play Poker?"

"Strip Poker?"

I said despairingly, "No just ordinary Poker. Don't you ever think about anything other than sex?"

She cupped her hand to her chin and furrowed her brow in deep thought. After a few seconds she muttered, "No, I don't think I do; at least not since I saw the size of your dick."

I ignored that and announced, "We'll play five card draw, open with anything." I dealt five cards to each of us and said, "This is the one where you can change them if you don't like them."

She gave them a brief glance and then handed them back to me with, "Don't like them."

I picked them up to see what she was throwing away. "You've got a pair of aces."

"So?"

"You've got to like them."

She folded her arms defiantly. "If I say I don't like them it's because I don't like them. And I'm certainly not going to like them without any panties on."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

She sighed and spoke slowly. "You said if I didn't like them I could change them. Well I didn't like them. What are you, stupid or something?"

"But you mentioned something about panties."

She sighed again. "I was merely pointing out that one of the factors contributing to my either liking or not liking those particular five cards is because I am not wearing any panties. If it's all too technical for you, just say so and we'll watch TV."

I folded my arms on the table and put my head down on them. It was hopeless; she was completely bonkers. I started to giggle helplessly and I couldn't stop. She waited impassively.

Eventually I was able to control myself and looked up. "What do you want to do then?"

"I want to be fucked."

All my good intentions went out of the window. I picked up one of the straight backed chairs and set it down in the middle of the room. I stripped and sat down on it. My cock was flaccid so I said, "Come here and give this a blowdry."

She peeled off her dress and she was naked underneath. She came to me eagerly and knelt between my legs. When she began to suck and lick me, I reached under and fondled her breasts. She had prominent nipples and I rolled them gently in my fingers. Her hand was between her own legs and I could see from the movement of her fingers that she was caressing herself.

She was unable to get the entire length of my cock into her mouth but I hadn't yet met a female who could. Pretty soon she had it pulsating so I said, "Okay, climb aboard."

She didn't need a second invitation and she was up on her feet quickly. As she straddled my lap, I said, "I'm not going to move so you'll have to do all the work."

She muttered, "Typical."

Even standing on tiptoe she couldn't quite raise her pussy to where the top of my cock was, so I had to lower it slightly for her to insert it. She was staring straight into my eyes as she slowly sank onto it and gasped, "If I push any harder I'll start choking."

She put her hands on my shoulders and with her feet on the floor she began to raise and lower herself as if she was riding on a merry-go-round. Occasionally she would twist slightly and as it was a tight fit, the sensation was delicious. I could feel my balls getting wet from her juices. My arms were just hanging at my sides and I made no attempt to help her.

Soon her movements became more urgent and she gasped, "I'm going to come in a minute." As she got closer to her orgasm, she stood erect and her strokes became rapid and shorter. Suddenly she cried out, "Yes." She had been frantically jerking up and down but as she climaxed, she drove slowly downwards and then dragged up again. She was groaning harshly and as the exquisite pain racked her, she repeated the slow pushes and pulls as if she was siphoning her pleasure from out of my body.

Finally it was over and her head drooped onto my chest. Her arms dropped to her side and she became motionless. I had managed not to come but it had been a close call.

She was too exhausted to lift her head and in a muffled voice she asked, "Has anyone ever died in the middle of a fuck? Because I nearly did just then."

I put my arms around her and gently stroked her back. "Thousands I would imagine."

She gave a little nudge with her pelvis and said, "You're still as hard as a rock; how do you manage it?"

"I didn't come."

Her head jerked upwards. "Didn't you enjoy it?"

"Oh you excited me all right but I thought you wanted to do the masturbation thing. So with great willpower, not to mention unselfishness, I managed to stop myself from coming."

She smiled delightedly and kissed my cheek. "You're such a gentleman."

We cuddled for a few minutes until I said, "Come on then, let's go upstairs."

When we were in the bedroom I said, "You had better get a towel." After she handed me one, I spread it on the bed and sat cross-legged with most of it in front of me. I said to her, "Okay, you sit opposite and open your legs so I can see what you're doing."

We were about two feet apart and I said, "You're too close. When my cock is as hard as this I squirt a long way."

Instead of moving back, she moved closer and said, "I don't care; I'm in a sluttish mood."

I shrugged my shoulders. "It's up to you. Now close your eyes and think your favourite dirty thought; one that always makes you come."

She closed her eyes and began to stroke her pussy. I was slowly rubbing my cock and watching her closely. She continued for a while until she sucked in her breath and began to rub her clit faster. I said, "Tell what you are thinking about."

She whispered, "I'm sitting in the window seat of an aeroplane and we're flying at night. There's a good looking man in the seat beside me. I've been dozing but suddenly I can feel his hand on my knee. I'm pretending to be asleep but he knows I'm really awake. Now he's pulling up my dress and he's sliding his hand between my legs. I'm scared but it's exciting so I'm not stopping him. He's putting his hand inside my panties and now he's gently fingering my pussy. He's taken out his cock and he's putting my hand on it. He wants me to wank him."

While she was talking I was gripping my cock tighter and although her story was exciting me as well, I didn't want to come until she did.

She was breathless but still speaking softly. "I'm rubbing his cock up and down and he's stroking my clit faster. He's going to make me come soon."

Suddenly she opened her eyes and gasped, "Please come when I do." She began to rub her pussy furiously and was squeezing one of her nipples with the other hand. Then she said desperately, "Hurry Peter I'm coming now."

I had been holding back but now my strokes became faster. I could feel my balls start to tighten and I gasped at the onset of a violent orgasm. I started to ejaculate and pulses of semen curved in an arc and plashed against her stomach.

As the first spurt hit her she fell backwards with her legs wide apart. She was franticly rubbing her engorged slit and groaning loudly. I watched the muscles of her stomach tighten as each wave of pleasure flooded through her and her features contorted with the delicious agony.

When my semen was finally spent, I also fell backwards. We both lay exhausted as the sensations slowly faded from our punished bodies.

Eventually I raised myself on one elbow and asked softly, "Did you enjoy that?"

She had her eyes closed and answered in a wondrous voice, "Each time you make me come, it gets better and better."

She used the towel to wipe herself and then went and showered. When I had also freshened up, I dressed and she saw me to the back door. She kissed me and said, "That was more fun that silly Poker wasn't it? You're very inventive so think up some more naughty things that we can do together. By the way, when are you going to be free again?"

"Thursday?"

She said okay and I left.

I walked quietly the few paces to the front door of my house and inserted my key in the lock. As I carefully turned it I heard someone say, "Good evening Peter." My stomach lurched and I squirted an involuntary dribble of urine. It was my father's voice.

He had been standing in darkness to the side of the house waiting for me to come home.

I had difficulty in speaking but I managed to say, "Hello Dad."

He said quietly, "Shall we go inside and talk?" He opened the door and led the way.

As we passed along the hallway, Sis was standing outside the living room and looked terrified. She said, "May I speak with you Daddy?"

"No you may not."

We walked into the small extension at the rear of the house which he referred to as his study and he shut the door. He motioned me to a chair and sat facing me. He spoke quietly. "Now then Peter, tell where you have been this evening."

I answered weakly, "Visiting a friend."

"And do I know this friend?"

"Yes Sir."

He knew that I would always tell him the truth no matter how painful it might be, so he took his time. "So tell me about your friend."

I wondered what my punishment would be. Cut off without a penny? Made to join the Armed Forces? Whatever was in store for me, there was no point in putting it off so I answered, "It is Mrs Henderson."

He leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. He said quietly, "I see. And what were you and Mrs Henderson doing this evening?"

"We were playing Poker." I was still clutching the pack of cards so I slowly opened my hand to show it to him.

That threw him completely and he stared at the packet in surprise. He had no doubt that I was telling the truth but it was unexpected and he must have been confused. There was a silence while he considered my answer before continuing, "Did you both play Poker the entire evening?"

"No Sir."

He was now back on track. "For how long did you and Mrs Henderson play Poker?"

"I can't remember exactly Sir."

He persisted with, "Well please try to remember. You have been in her house for about two and a half hours, so would you have been playing for two hours or less than two hours?"

"Probably less Sir."

He was still being patient when he said with a carefully modulated tone, "I'll ask you again and this time I would like an accurate answer please. For how long were you and Mrs Henderson playing Poker?"

The firing squad were levelling their rifles. I desperately wanted to go to the toilet but I doubted that he would allow any time-out.

My mouth was dry but I managed to whisper, "For about five minutes."

There was a longer pause before he asked, "And why did you play for only five minutes?"




Too Close for Comfort



"She couldn't seem to get the hang of it."

I waited for the fatal question and he asked it quietly. "So what did you and Mrs Henderson do for the rest of the evening?"

This was it and it was "goodbye world." I wondered if I would be remembered for anything. My heart was pounding and I was gripping the pack of cards so tightly it was curving in my hand. I tried to say it once but my lips were too numb. I made another attempt and managed to croak, "We had sex."

I could hear the thud of my heart while he stared at me without expression. Then he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. He asked earnestly, "Did she seduce you?"

His question surprised me and I wondered which one of us had seduced the other. I hadn't previously really thought about it.

I recalled how her nonsense made me laugh. How she accepted that it would not last forever and that there would be no reprisals. I thought about all the years that I had fantasised about her but just spending time with her was so enjoyable. I came to a decision.

I said calmly, "No Sir, I seduced her."

His mouth opened and his eyes widened in surprise. This time there was a longer silence and he must have been groping for the right words. Was he shocked? Was he ashamed of me?

Eventually in a surprisingly considerate tone he said, "Son, isn't she just a little old for you?"

I answered, "Well Sir, I admit there is a bit of an age gap but I really like her. We laugh a lot and she's completely scatty. We are just enjoying each other while it lasts; which won't be forever so don't worry that she might become your daughter." His eyes softened slightly and I wondered if he was amused.

"We excite each other and sex was always going to be inevitable. If you're concerned about her husband, we are very careful."

He stared at me for a long time and the minutes ticked slowly by. He loved me and he knew I loved him but he always played by strict rules. Had I violated them and was I bringing shame upon the family?

Eventually he rose slowly to his feet and looked down at me. He said quietly, "Well don't let your mother find out, you know what's she's like." With that he left the room.

I sat motionless in shock. I was still alive and I could not believe it. I tried to stand but my legs would not support me. The door opened and Sis came in. Her face was ashen and her hands were clasped together and visibly shaking. In a tremulous voice she asked, "Well?"

I tried to smile but only one side of my face twitched.

I replied weakly, "Piece of cake."



Too Close for Comfort



Kelly straightened her shirt, swiped on some lip gloss, and ran out the door, book bag in tow. She was running a little late for her meeting with her thesis advisor, and she really hated to be late. Still, she knew he would understand. Jake - Professor Aron - had been her mentor, really more her friend, for eight years now. When they'd met, she was a lowly freshman and he'd been a teacher's assistant, halfway through getting his PhD. She'd hit on him, believing all TAs were in it only for the T and A, thinking of letting loose now that she was in college. He'd stayed aloof for a long time, finally warming up to her, but eventually she found out he was dating someone seriously.

She'd played the field for a few years, slept with plenty of other young men, and when Jake had finally broken up with his girlfriend, Kelly was in a relationship with Mark, her current boyfriend of four years. She and Jake had lost touch after her graduation, exchanging only the occasional e-mail. She told herself she was way over her silly little crush, but deep down she knew it wasn't true. When she'd decided to return to school for her MA, she was surprised to find that Jake had taken a position with her alma mater. Although she was no longer studying in his field, she'd automatically asked him to be one of her thesis advisors, and he had agreed.

Mark hadn't really liked the amount of time she'd been spending with Jake, but she chalked it up to being serious about her thesis work. Jake, for his part, had been amazingly generous with his time, going over each step of the process with her, and occasionally letting her buy him dinner.

Tonight was one such night. She expected to be home late, and had endured Mark's grumbling in the morning about it. She'd probably hear it from him again that night. Oh well, he could get over it.

She stepped into the cafe and saw Jake, already set up at a table with a stack of papers in front of him. As she crossed the floor, she studied him. He'd grown a short light-brown beard since she'd known him, and she really thought it suited him. His blue eyes were much lighter than you'd think, and right now they were scanning a paper from behind a pair of glasses. He was wearing his usual outfit: slim jeans, loafers, corduroy jacket and tie. Hip professor chic, she guessed. He was pretty young for a professor - just barely 30, only six years older than she was.

She slid into the booth across from him, bumping his ankle with her foot.

"Hey, Jake. Sorry I'm late," Kelly said.

"No problem. Had this whole stack of papers to grade, anyway. How's it going?"

"Good, I guess. Feel like I'm stuck on the statistics again. They don't say what I think they should say, so I'm trying to find a way to explain it, and I'm coming up empty."

"Hmmkay, let's take a look at what you've got there."

An hour of chatting, furious note-taking, and french-fry-eating later, Kelly had a better handle on her statistical problem. She leaned back, stretching her arms overhead.

"So, what else is going on with you? Any hot coeds hit on you lately?" she asked cheekily.

"Oh man, you wouldn't believe it!" he said, adding with a wry smile, "But, none of them are as cute as you were."

Kelly shifted as she felt a strange jolt of jealousy. She considered herself pretty cute, but wasn't there something special about nubile barely-legals? She frowned down at the table, prompting Jake to touch the back of her hand lightly.

"Hey, come on. I value my job way too much to boink a couple of silly little girls, even if I wanted to. Plus, I'd have to give them better grades if I did. That's how that works, right?" He grinned, and Kelly had to smile back.

"No, seriously, what else is going on with you? We always talk too much about me," she replied.

"Not much, I'm afraid. I'm moving into a hotel for a while this weekend, that's about it."

"What? Why?"

"Well, my apartment lease is up, but the place I was getting ready to move into, the woman who was renting it out reneged on the deal when her adult son got kicked out of his housing, so... truthfully I've been really wanting to get out of this apartment for a while, so, I'm just going to be laying low at a hotel until I find another place. Hopefully it won't take too long."

"Geez, aren't hotels really expensive?"

He shrugged. "It's no thrill, but I don't really have another option. I don't have any family or friends in the area with a room for rent, and I'd rather not sleep on a couch for any longer than I have to."

Kelly was quiet for a minute. She and Mark had a second room that they kept as a guest room because his mother was, ugh, unfortunately a pretty frequent visitor. Why she couldn't stay in a hotel room, Kelly didn't know, but Mark hated to turn out family. He would be pretty pissed if she offered it up without asking him first. But what the hell, it was her apartment anyway - HE had moved in with HER. Screw it.

"Why don't you come stay with us? We have a guest room."

"No, I don't know, I wouldn't want to put you guys out."

"You won't be! Actually, you'd be really doing me a favor, because my boyfriend's mother couldn't come visit while you're there, and, well, I really... we don't like each other."

"Then why does she stay with you?"

"Don't ask me, I have no idea. If it were just me, I'd tell her to go to a hotel, but Mark is... well, it's family, and I guess there's a thing about it being family. I don't know."

"Uhhh, okay. Well, shouldn't you check with Mark first?"

"No, he'll be fine with it. Come on, think about it. Kitchen privileges, you'd have your own bathroom, access to our big-screen TV, and I would promise not to abuse your proximity too much by talking about my paper constantly," she said with a grin.

"Wellllll... okay. You'd have to let me pay you guys rent, though."

"No way! That room just goes totally empty most of the time anyway."

"At least let me pay you a little bit for utilities and stuff."

"Okay, that seems fair."

"Well, great! I guess I'll see you this weekend, then? I've got some packing to do, so I should really head out now."

-----

Truth be told, Mark was so not okay with it.

"What the hell, Kelly? You just offered this guy our spare room without even talking to me about it?"

"He's not just some guy, he's my friend and advisor, and he was in a tough spot."

"You could have at least called me."

"It'll only be for a little while. Come on, I'll make it up to you," she said with a suggestive smile.

"Forget it, I'm not in the mood."

"Fine," she snapped, stalking into the bedroom alone. She was so tired of putting up with his pouting. Sure, she probably should have talked to him first, but he'd sprung his mom visiting on her so many times she couldn't count. Maybe he wouldn't do it again after this.

-----

On Saturday, Kelly was prancing about her house, cleaning and straightening things up while dancing to music blaring from her computer speakers. She was wearing her usual lounging outfit: stretchy boy short underpants, a thin tank top, socks. If anyone else saw her, they would probably think she dressed that way for her boyfriend, but the truth was that she liked catching glimpses of herself in the mirror as she moved around the house. She especially liked the way the panties looked on her round, curved ass, and the way they covered enough that she could almost leave the house in them. Admittedly, she had been known to go out and check the mail in this exact outfit. It was so comfy she sometimes forgot she was even wearing so little.

She was spinning around to the music when she caught sight in movement outside the living room window. Peering over at it, she noticed Jake on the front porch, looking studiously at the front door, and raising his arm to knock on it.

Oh geez, he must have been watching her dance around. So embarrassing.

She turned the music down and heard the end of his knock. She went to open it, enjoying the way Jake's eyebrows lifted as he took in the sight of her in the flesh.

"Hi, glad to see you didn't change your mind!"

"I, uh, yeah. Um, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he stammered.

"No, I was just cleaning the house a little bit. Hey, can I help you bring any bags up or anything?"

"Um, um, dressed like that?"

"Oh, this? This is the way I always dress at home - that's not a problem, right?"

"Hell no, cheap rent and eye candy? Best deal I ever made," he said, finally recovering enough to tease her back.

"Hah!" she said, squealing in laughter. "Good, good. Let's get you settled."

Kelly went down and grabbed one of his suitcases, lugging it back up the porch steps and upstairs to the spare room. She bent over to set it next to the bed, feeling her panties stretch over her ass, and secretly hoping that Jake was watching. She straightened and turned, holding out her arm.

"So, this is it!" The queen bed was low, piled with fluffy pillows and a bright yellow spread. A matching chest of drawers and desk in blond wood were also in the room, along with a nightstand with lamp, and bookshelf, half-filled with trashy novels. "Sorry for the crappy reading material - Mark's mom loves that shit. The good books are all in the office."

"No, it's great," he said. "Well, I'll take your word on those books sucking, but this is, well, it'll be perfect."

"Okay, good. Well, um, I guess I'll let you unpack. Bathroom is down the hall, kitchen and office are downstairs. Shout if you need anything."

"Will do. Thanks."

-----

Later that night, Jake was reclining on the bed, finally having finished putting away all his stuff. Dinner had been a little tense. It was only the second or third time that he had been in the same room with Mark, who was making it pretty clear that he was unhappy with the situation. He hated to see Kelly having to try to put a happy face on and deal with her boyfriend, who was being, let's be honest, kind of a dick.

Oh well, he reflected. It was her choice to be with him, and he was probably a perfectly nice guy most of the time. Jake pulled on a pair of pajama pants, flicked the light off, and rolled over, trying to get used to this new place. He'd always hated falling asleep in strange beds as a kid, and he guessed he'd never really gotten over it. Still, at least this strange bed was a comfortable one.

He was just drifting off to sleep, when an angry voice and steps on the stairs brought him back to alertness.

"Hush, come on, do you want Jake to hear you?" Kelly was asking.

"I don't care if he does! Maybe it would be good for him to know that your boyfriend is pissed off that you answered the door in just your panties today! Besides, his light is off; he's probably asleep already."

"Hey, these cover more of me than a bathing suit does! I always wear this stuff, you know that."

"That's not the point! The point is, they're your panties. It's not right."

Jake rolled onto his back and thought, oh man, her panties. When he saw her through the living room window, he thought for sure she was going to put on pants before she answered the door, but nope. They clung to the curve of her ass just right, ending at the very tops of her slim thighs. He had thought she probably wasn't wearing a bra underneath her tank top, and the socks really did nothing to make the outfit less sexy. The only bad thing was that it was going to drive him crazy to live here with her if that's the way she always dressed.

There was a short silence as they passed his door, and then they went into their own bedroom. They must have left the door ajar, though, because he could still hear them pretty well.

"Come on, baby, you're the only person who gets to see me in only the panties, though."

"Fuck yeah, come over here, Kel."

To Jake's considerable astonishment, the air was soon filled with soft sighs and moans, punctuated with manly grunts. Those two were definitely fucking, and it was a little bit awkward.

"Oh, oh, oh, yes!" moaned Kelly, and Jake had his hard cock in his hand almost before he realized what he was doing. Fuck, it felt so wrong, squeezing his dick to the sound of someone else's sex. It wasn't so different from porn, he rationalized to himself. The main difference was that, well, he actually wanted to have sex with Kelly.

The grunting got louder, and with a final "Fuck yeah!" Mark fell silent.

"Jesus, again?" came Kelly's voice. Jake heard muffled voices now, and then the bedroom door shut firmly, footsteps echoing down the hallway. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He padded toward the door, pushing it open soundlessly and peeking around the corner and down the stairs. A soft light was on, and he stepped toward it, slowly, quietly.

Sprawled on the overstuffed couch was a very naked Kelly, eyes squeezed shut, hand busy between her legs. Jake's cock, which had started to soften, hardened again so quickly it was almost painful. He was about halfway down the stairs, and crouched down there where it was still shadowy. He knew he shouldn't watch, but he couldn't help it. She was so sexy. Her blonde hair spread out around her face, her petite body curved in all the most delicious places - stomach, ass, hips, thighs.

He looked down to her pussy again. It looked totally shaved. He started stroking himself again, slowly.

Kelly groped with one hand toward the coffee table and grabbed the hairbrush that was lying there. It was the kind with the ribbed rubber grip, and Jake watched with heated anticipation as she slowly pushed it into her pussy with a low moan. She bent her legs at the knee, spreading them wider.

She fucked herself with the hairbrush, fingers still rubbing her clit, and Jake stroked his cock inside his pajama pants. Kelly started moaning softly, and she opened her eyes. Jake froze, but she didn't seem to notice him. She turned her head away from him, and he breathed out softly. Then he realized that her head was resting on his corduroy jacket where he had tossed it that afternoon. She started pistoning the hairbrush faster into herself.

Jake felt his balls drawing up and he was getting closer to an orgasm as he watched Kelly. Then she stiffened, crying out, "Jake, yes, fuck me!" Surprised and flattered, he felt a bolt of pleasure as he shot jets of cum into his pants. He squeezed the length of his cock slowly, shuddering a little as he caught his breath. He saw Kelly focusing on the task of extracting the sticky, slippery hairbrush from her pussy, and he backed slowly up the stairs and into his room.

He felt a little guilty as he changed into fresh pajama pants, but not enough to stop the huge grin from spreading over his face. He would probably never get a chance like that again, but it was nice while it had lasted.

-----

The next two weeks were a strain on both Jake and Kelly. Kelly and Mark constantly sniped at each other over little things, Mark still enormously pissed off that his girlfriend was prancing about in her underwear in front of another man all the time, and knowing he couldn't even yell at her about it, because the other man was in the house with them. Kelly thought Mark was being unreasonable, but at the same time, had to admit that walking around half-dressed in front of her houseguest was turning her on more than she had thought possible.

Jake, for his part, was trying to act like a gentleman at all times. He snuck glances at Kelly's backside from time to time - who wouldn't? - but tried to be subtle. He stayed away from any conversation that could be construed as flirting, and even kept to his room most of the time he was at home. True to her word, Kelly wasn't constantly after him for help with her thesis, so he was able to have quite a lot of private time to work on his other students' papers... and masturbate. He couldn't remember the last time he had masturbated so much - on average, twice a day now - perhaps not since he was in high school. It was torture to be so close to Kelly and not be able to touch her, but he buried himself in work, and searches for a new apartment.

One afternoon Kelly returned from classes early. She dumped her bag on the sofa, kicked off her sneakers, and pulled her pants off. Already in a better mood, she went upstairs to toss her pants in the hamper, and passed by the guest bathroom. She heard the shower running, and nudged the door open a little, wondering if she'd be able to catch a glimpse of Jake. Their shower doors were glass, and they would probably be fogged up, but even a little peek would be pretty enticing.

It was a total invasion of his privacy, she knew, but he would never know, and it was all in innocent curiosity, right? What she saw when she looked through the crack in the door was definitely not innocent, however.

The shower door had been left partially open, no doubt on accident, and Jake was leaning against the back wall of the shower. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his arm was pumping furiously between his legs, where his cock was slicked up with soap. If he was making any noise, Kelly couldn't hear it over the shower, but her eyes widened as she watched him. He looked tense, his muscles bunching up in his arms. All at once he blew out a long breath and she watched him shoot streams of cum, his hips jerking a little with each spurt.

She backed away from the door, swallowing hard. Her panties were drenched.

-----

Jake caught his breath, feeling his heartbeat slowing back down after his orgasm. He had been picturing Kelly on her knees blowing him, and now he shook his head at himself and reached for the shampoo.

At last, he shut the water off and grabbed for a towel, running it over his hair and the rest of his body. He wrapped it around his waist and stepped into the hallway. He took only two steps, and then stopped short, noticing what was going on in his room.

Kelly was kneeling on his bed, one of the pillows stuffed between her knees. The wet patch on her panties flashed him over and over as she rocked her hips against the pillow. Jake was astonished. Hadn't she heard the shower turn off? He was mesmerized by their movement, the way the folds of her panties were tucked up inside her. Her hips were pumping erratically now, and Jake thought she must be cumming. He ducked back into the bathroom and turned the faucet on.

He looked into the mirror, saw a very surprised Jake looking back, with a tent in his towel. He adjusted his cock to a more comfortable position and heard footsteps outside the door.

"Hi Jake, didn't know you were home!" came the sprightly voice of Kelly.

"Uh yeah, just got out of the shower actually," he replied.

"Um, um, well, good!" Kelly lingered a moment longer outside the door, and then, apparently having nothing further to say, walked away. Jake waited until he thought she was gone, and then left the bathroom.

In his bedroom, he shut the door behind him and then glanced at the bed. The coverlet looked a little rumpled. Had she taken the pillow with her, or left it? Feeling like a pervert for doing it, he looked at them for clues. The pillow on the left was creased, and when he picked it up, he could feel that one side was a little damp. His cock twitched in his towel, and he released it, feeling it pulsate.

His face reddened as he lifted the pillow to his nose, breathing in and smelling her. He thought of how she had looked, pleasuring himself on this very pillow. Even though he had jerked off fewer than twenty minutes earlier, here he was, sitting naked on the bed, doing it again. He felt like a guilty kid, but she'd left it here for him. Maybe even wanted him to find it. The thought was too much for him, and he grunted softly as he released his load.

-----

"Kelly, my mom's coming to visit this weekend," Mark said, glaring across the dinner table at her.

"Where's she going to stay?" she asked, with a sweet smile.




Too Close for Comfort



"In the guest room, like she always does."

"Hmmm, I don't think so. No room in the inn, as they say."

"Kelly, she always stays here."

"Well, not this time. She's a grown adult, I'm sure she's stayed in a hotel before. Some hotels are even nicer than our house."

"That's not fair! What am I supposed to tell her?"

"Um, the truth? Tell her we're helping a friend out, and she's welcome to spend time here, but if she wants to stay over, she'll be sleeping on the couch."

"Why can't Jake sleep on the couch while she's here?"

"He was here first," she said, beginning to get annoyed.

"But it's my mother," he protested angrily.

"And I would say the same thing to my parents if they wanted to visit, and I actually like my parents!" she snapped.

"Bitch," he spat. "Forget it, I'll just go visit my parents instead this weekend, and you can have the house all to yourself." He shoved up from the table and ran upstairs to the bedroom to pack.

Kelly scowled down at her plate. He could be such a child sometimes. She hated to argue with him, but really, it was time for him to cut the cord! Mark left an hour later without even kissing her goodbye. That hurt. But she wasn't going to let it ruin her night. Nope. It was Thursday, she had no school the following day, and she was going to get drunk. Not because of Mark... but that helped.

She poured herself a triple rum and coke and sat on the living room couch with a bowl of popcorn. She flipped through the channels on TV and had downed half her drink when Jake came downstairs.

"Hey, party of one?" he asked.

"Doesn't have to be. Wanna drink?" she asked, feeling her head start to spin a little. Shouldn't have drank it so fast.

"Sure. What are we having?"

"Rum and coke. That fine for you?"

"Yeah."

Kelly returned to the living room with two large glasses, having topped hers up.

"Uhh, that looks like a lot," Jake said.

"Just didn't feel like getting up again," she said with a grin.

"Uh-huh." He ventured a sip, and winced a little. "Heavy on the rum, I see. You trying to get me drunk?" he teased.

"Mayyyybe." Trouble was, Kelly knew better than to get drunk around men she found attractive. Whenever she drank, she got extremely horny, and it had gotten her into trouble more than once in college. Oh, not serious trouble, but she had definitely gone farther than she would have sober - at least on the second date. Halfway through her second drink, she felt her nipples hardening, her pussy tingling.

Jake had downed most of the drink she had poured him, and he was beginning to look a little glassy-eyed himself.

"Can I ask you a question without being a jerk?" he asked.

"I dunno, maybe. What is it?"

"What do you see in that guy?"

"Who, Mark? He's not such a bad guy. He's in a pissy mood because he's still mad you're here and he can't just fuck me all over the house." She paused, giggling. "I told him you wouldn't mind! Not that he would anyway, and if he did, well, let's just say the sex isn't anywhere near as good as it used to be. He used to do everything to me."

"Oh yeah?" Jake asked, more out of politeness than curiosity.

"Yeah! When we first got together, he would go down on me until I came so many times it almost hurt. Now he hardly ever will even just to get me wet. And he would fuck me anywhere in the house, and he'd draw it out for an hour, and we'd spend whole afternoons in bed. Now it's like, he barely wants to have sex with me, and if I ask, he'll do it, but just to hurry up and cum. It sucks."

"That's the way it was with my ex-girlfriend and I the last year before we broke up."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Then I found out she was fucking someone else." At Kelly's frown, he went on hurriedly, "Not that Mark is doing that, I'm sure. I'm just saying, you know, Cheryl was. So yeah, it was frustrating, and I know how you're feeling."

They both fell silent. Kelly drained her glass, feeling her head grow heavy and her panties growing wetter. Stupid to talk about sex while she was drinking. Her nipples were poking through her shirt and when she looked over at Jake, she saw him look away. Then he looked back, giving her a half-smile as he finished his drink.

Without even thinking about what she was doing, she leaned in and kissed him. To her immense pleasure, he opened his mouth and kissed her back passionately. She drew back. Jake opened his mouth to speak, probably to protest. She rose up on her knees and kissed him again, sliding her tongue against his and moaning softly into his mouth.

He slid his arms around her, groping her ass cheeks. He pulled her into his lap, and she straddled him, feeling his cock hardening already between her legs. She pulled away from him long enough to take her shirt off, then returned to his mouth hungrily. Jake squeezed her ass in his hands, and then slid them up her sides to her bare breasts. He rolled her nipples in between his fingers, making her cry out.

Jake bent to take one nipple into his mouth, sucking on it and flicking his tongue over it rapidly. Kelly moaned and slid forward on his lap, feeling his cock now touching her pussy through her panties and his pants. The feeling of them pressing together sent electric jolts of pleasure through her.

Jake switched to her other breast, rolling his tongue around her nipple. He put his hands back on her ass, squeezing and holding her against his cock. Kelly starting moving her hips against his cock, bumping her clit against him and groaning. The heat was building rapidly between her legs.

A wave of pleasure smacked into her, and she was riding it all the way to orgasm. She jerked her hips against him as she came, feeling her panties soaking through. Even as she was fighting to catch her breath, she was struggling to undo Jake's pants.

"God, fuck, I want you inside me, Jake."

"Should get a, oh shit, get a condom," he struggled to say, gasping as her hand found his cock.

"No, no, can't wait," she said, angling her hips up and plunging down on him. Jake's head fell back as a long moan escaped his lips. Kelly rode him hard, already building up to another climax.

"Kelly, fuck, you're so wet."

"Yesssss, yes! Oh God, I'm gonna cum!" she shouted, grinding her hips down on him as her pussy contracted. Jake was holding his breath, keeping just a thin, ragged edge of control as he felt her tighten around him. He grasped Kelly's hips, holding her steady while he moved inside her again.

"Mmm you didn't cum yet?" Kelly asked with a smile.

"Hell no. I'm going to fuck you until neither of us can walk. If this is a one-time deal, I'd better make it good."

Kelly opened her mouth to answer, but Jake kissed her again deeply. He laid her on the couch, and hurriedly stepped out of his clothes. His cock was rock hard, pulsing with the beat of his heart. He pushed her legs up and thrust his cock into her without warning. She cried out as he began fucking her hard and fast, stealing her breath.

He braced himself on the couch with one hand and reached between Kelly's legs with other to rub her clit.

"Fuck!" she yelled. Her legs were shaking now, and when she exploded in orgasm, Jake didn't slow down. She was moaning continuously now, her body racked with a pleasure she couldn't contain. Jake could feel the pressure building up in his balls, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. The feeling of her pussy squeezing him so tightly was too much for him, and he drove into her as deeply as he could, spurting his cum into her.

He collapsed down on her, both of them damp with sweat and other things.

"I, uh, should we..." he started to ask.

"Shhh. We'll deal with it in the morning," she murmured.



Too Close for Comfort



Fear, confusion, panic . . . all those emotions and more overcame Jacinda Montenegro in a horrifying instant. She was frozen to the spot where she sat; she couldn't move. She felt paralyzed, unable to budge, incapable of moving a muscle. Her eyes searched the room looking for something that might help her get out of her predicament, something that could rescue her from her dilemma. Finally, with little other option, she cried out, "HELLLPPPPP! Help me! HELP!" 

Khari Brevins, her boyfriend of two months, heard Jacinda's cries from his comfortable position on the sofa in his basement, two floors away. He had been chilling in his man cave all by his lonesome; watching some college ball and eating a bacon cheeseburger fresh off the grill, some store bought potato salad he had doctored up to give it some taste, and drinking a few bottles of imported ale to quench his testosterone-driven thirst. He jumped up and bound up the stairs two and three at a time. Breathless, he reached the top of the staircase on the second floor of his house and made his way cautiously to the master bedroom. The slight sound of his bare feet on the hardwood floors in the hallway seemed to echo throughout the house as he crept along. Not wanting to make too much noise; he approached the bedroom with caution.

"HONEY! Help," Jacinda cried out again, at the top of her lungs. 

Entering the bedroom, Khari was expecting to see a blood bath of dismembered body pieces. Seeing nothing, he made his way further into the room. The bathroom door was ajar. He scanned the room quickly, looking for something that he might use as a makeshift weapon to defend himself but couldn't find anything other than a pair of Jordans he had kicked off in the heat of passion the previous night and they wouldn't work against a crazed serial killer, not even in a pinch. Disoriented momentarily, adrenaline taking over, Khari made his way across the room. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Summoning up all his courage, his fist clenched tightly, he stepped into the doorway to discover what sort of gruesome crime scene would lie before him. 

"Oh, you're here. Good," Jacinda sighed. "You're out of toilet paper. Can you get me some? I was getting ready to use your shower curtain to wipe my behind." Seeing the humor in the situation, she burst out laughing. Based upon Jacinda's wide-eyed, innocent, and dazzling smile, it was clearly evident that she had no clue that her screams for help might have been even a tiny bit on the melodramatic side. Backing out of the room and breathing a sigh of relief, Khari went to the linen closet in the hallway and grabbed three rolls of two-ply cushiony, quilted softness and returned to the scene of the crime so to speak. 

"Here," he said, standing in the door frame with his back towards Jacinda, trying to hand her the rolls of TP with his hand stretched precariously behind him. 

"Uhmmm, I can't reach, silly. I didn't poop, ya know. It was only pee. You can come in. Would you just hand it to me, please?" 

"Jeez, Jay, do you always have to be so graphic?" Exasperated, Khari closed his eyes and tip-toed into the bathroom like he was a little boy trying to pretend he was invisible, put the rolls of toilet paper down on the counter, and made a quick exit back to his basketball, burger, and brew.

Jacinda joined him about a half hour later, smelling like she had bathed and lotioned herself with every tropical fruit known to man, carrying a plate with a hoagie the size of the state of Connecticut in one hand and an orange-cream soda in the other. She had spent the morning in bed sleeping and relaxing while Khari was up and about doing his Saturday morning chores. This was their first real time together since they had woken up. "What's the score?" Jacinda inquired. 

Khari glanced over and all she was wearing was a pair of black bikini panties, not a stitch of other clothing. He practically spit his Samuel Smith Organic Lager across the room. "Uhhhmm, don't you want to put some clothes on? I mean, it's 2 in the afternoon." Because they hadn't been dating very long, this was the first time they had a date that didn't end with one of them getting up and getting dressed in the middle of the night to go home. This was their very first intentional sleepover, complete with a packed bag and everything. It was clear that Jacinda was comfortable in her own skin, much more so than Khari could ever hope to be. For a brief moment, Jacinda felt embarrassed. In her own home, she'd walked around buck naked in front of Khari but, again, they had only been having sex for a couple of weeks so they hadn't quite worked out all the logistics of coupledom just yet. 

Jacinda felt ashamed; tears welled in her eyes. This was the first time in the 8 weeks that they had been dating that Khari wasn't totally attentive and sweet. She thought her lack of clothing indicated that she was comfortable in his home but it was clear he didn't want her to feel that relaxed. She jumped up, ran upstairs to get dressed, and returned a few minutes later wearing black leggings and a hot pink t-shirt. She even put on socks and shoes just to be on the safe side. She made her way back to the sofa and sat in silence as she ate her sub and watched the game. Khari sat in silence and watched the game, not even bothering to make small talk or look in her direction. He could tell that she was upset but he just didn't care. When Jacinda said she was going to leave to go home, he made no efforts to ask her why or even ask her to stay. He cleared the dirty dishes and asked her if she needed help taking her bag to the car like she was an unwelcomed house guest who had stayed too long. 

Khari, at 37 years of age, worked as an installer for a cable company. If anyone were to ask him to describe himself, he would emphatically say that he was a good guy with his own house, his own car, no criminal record, and no kids. He made a fairly decent salary but if it wasn't for the fact that Khari had gotten into a car accident and received a settlement of $60,000 he wouldn't have been able to put a down payment on a house and buy his truck. In fact, if he hadn't gotten that lump sum, he more than likely would have been living with his mother in her basement. He liked to live for the moment and saving and budgeting had never been skills he had mastered so he blew the rest of the money on partying and ladies. 

As for the ladies, Khari was a liar and a cheater extraordinaire who treated women like objects. He had never, not once in his life, had a girlfriend he hadn't cheated on. He didn't even think that was a problem or an issue, it never even crossed his mind that anything was wrong with that fact. The only person he thought of in relationships was himself, women were a nuisance because he really only wanted sex and he resented having to pretend to care about someone else and their feelings, but that's what he did, pretend. He was great at pretending when he wanted to; his acting skills could have won him an Academy award. Khari had the ability to convince women that he was attentive, loving, committed, faithful, and oh so in love, right up until the minute he decided he was bored of pretending then he would move on, no explanation, no looking back. When he was in a relationship and his self-centered urges hit, he would do something, anything to fuck up the relationship and he would gravitate back to the collection of mentally-unstable women he kept on retainer who he had romanced in the past and who found his particular brand of emotional immaturity sexy and who didn't ask too many questions to ascertain his level of fidelity. Or at least they believed his lies enough to be swept up in the romance of it all. 

Standing at 5'9", 180 lbs, naturally fit, built like a Pit-bull, with flawless caramel-colored brown skin and a smile that could light up any room, Khari was neither ugly nor overly attractive. His most "attractive" feature was that he knew how to pour on the charm to get women to fall in love with him. The romantic emails, the late night phone calls, the dinners and the endless lies were his weapons of choice. It was especially the phone calls in the beginning of the relationship that lasted hours and hours where he would tell the women how amazing, wonderful, and intense the connection he felt to them and that would usually be enough to seal the deal and make them fall in love. After they fell head over heels, the phone calls would last 20 minutes and he always had something more important to do than talk on the phone. You see, Khari was addicted to the chase. When he caught his prey, he would find someone else to romance. When the women whose hearts he had destroyed would confront him, angry and hurt, he would ignore them like they didn't even exist, blame them for some made up excuse, and he would take no responsibility whatsoever for his actions without a thought or care in the world. Khari was totally oblivious of how heinous it was to make a woman fall in love with him and then just snatch it away. 

Jacinda, on the other hand, was a case-study in growth, evolution, and transformation. She had gone through her 20s depending on her looks. It's what Black women who are attractive do. You use your looks, your big butt, and, if you're "lucky," your light skin to get men to do everything for you without you needing to have a thought or a care in the world about being self-sufficient or independent. She dressed well, was relatively smart, and standing at 5'5" tall, 160 pounds, possessing more than her fair share of tits and ass, there was no shortage of men vying for her attention and willing to buy her things to impress her. That meant men fell all over her just for the chance to have her on their arm when they were out and about town but ultimately, their only true goal was to get her into bed. She wasn't a real person to most of them, just a sexual conquest. She was more like an erotic game piece to be collected by men in some twisted competition to see who could screw the most attractive women. 

Jacinda had gone through her 30s dependent on books, immersing herself in self-help books, workshops, seminars, and retreats in an effort to unpack a little bit of the baggage so many Black women carry around with them that had been keeping her from knowing real joy. She was way past the "buy me" stage and wanted men to value her for more than her looks, but for her substance. She didn't want to hold onto past pain to the point where she exploded in violent anger at the tiniest provocation. She didn't want to feel like she was constantly walking around with a cloud of insecurity and self-doubt hovering over her. Her 30s was her time of reinvention and renewal. 

In her 40s, Jacinda was the top in her field of cooks. She'd quit her job as a bank manager and she'd gone to culinary school and gotten a job as a food stylist on a TV network. It was great because she could express her creativity with what she loved doing the most and she didn't have the dreadful schedule of a restaurant chef. She finally had gotten comfortable in her own skin. Everything wasn't all peaches and cream, however, because it seemed that she was so anxious to love and be loved, not to grow old alone, she would jumped into relationships where the warning signs were there and she found herself overlooking some major character flaws in men and giving too much weight to chemistry and not enough weight to character. She didn't date thugs, she dated emotionally immature men. It wasn't a preference it was just a reality that Black men hardly ever did any work on themselves and they had been raised in a society that told them that their manhood was to be measured in inches and machismo. 

She figured that if she could just find a good enough man who was committed to her, she could help shape him into a great man with love and guidance. It didn't seem all that unreasonable to her. No relationship is perfect; Prince Charming only exists in fairy tales. She was doing what she thought was her only choice, to accept what her mother, sisters, grandmother, aunts, and a whole host of elder Black women had been telling her since she was a child. Men, they said, were never going to be sensitive, nurturing, or understanding so if she didn't want to spend her life alone, she needed to just suck it up and deal with it. It was that advice that landed her in a string of dead-end relationships. 

After their little incident, Jacinda let a few days go by, hoping Khari would call her and apologize for the incident, or at least acknowledge that he should have been a bit less rude and a bit more sensitive. That call never came. Her mind raced, her thoughts would spin out of control. She couldn't figure out what happened to the man who had come to fix her cable and blown her away with his sensitivity and attentiveness. She saw his postings on Facebook; simultaneously she planned and plotted on what and when to post on her Facebook page so that he would see them and he could be reminded of her presence. Finally, tired of the childish games, she picked up the phone and called him. He was emotionally distant. She addressed the issue head on, he told her that she was over-reacting and that he hadn't done anything wrong. Khari never apologized. He just glossed over that part as if he didn't owe her anything and he acted as if he did nothing wrong. Much to Jacinda's credit, it was her efforts at communicating her feelings without projecting shame that turned the tide in the conversation and before long; things were back on a good footing. 

The weeks turned to months and they were getting along better all the time. The relationship had a few problems, nothing to break up over, and for the most part they were going extremely well. Khari's brothers had been teasing him about settling down and finding someone rather than just the endless string of women that only lasted two or three months so Khari decided that Jacinda was nice enough that he would try to make it work with her. The relationship really started to blossom when he made that choice. There was very little fighting, they got along well, they enjoyed the same forms of entertainment and social activities and the sex was . . . very, very good. 

The sex between them wasn't bad by any stretch of the imagination; Khari made sure Jacinda came every time. Jacinda just like felt the sex was monotonous, lacked any sort of creativity. A typical evening would be spent having dinner, watching TV, and when Khari decided that he was tired enough to go to bed and not too tired for sex, they would shut everything down and head to the bedroom. Khari always wore a t-shirt and boxers to bed and the lights out always had to be out. Their routine was entirely predictable. Jacinda would get in bed, usually naked or wearing something semi-sexy, and Khari would follow soon thereafter. He would start rubbing his dick on her ass and playing with her breasts and talking dirty. That would go on for about 15 minutes until he thought she was sufficiently aroused and then would slide his boxers off and climb on top of her under the covers and "do his business" as Miss Celie would say. 

Technically, Khari was masterful at throwing the dick. His dick got super-hard, he lasted long, he had a phenomenal down stroke, and he knew how to seal the deal. The only thing missing for Jacinda was diversity. He never once sucked a toe, he never gave her a massage, they barely even kissed. Every once in a while they would augment their evening with a little oral sex but Khari wanted to use sex more as an aide to get to sleep rather than an actual intimate connection with the woman with whom he shared his life. Jacinda wanted more sensuality, more passion, more variety but Khari always had an excuse for why it had to be pretty much the same way all the time. He was tired, he had to get up early, he had other things on his mind, everything was an excuse for him not to do anything other than exactly what he wanted to do. Eventually, Khari got to the point where he could silence Jacinda's complaints about sex by saying, "Babe, I'm so in love with you, I need you. Sex with you is amazing. You are all the woman I need." 

And those were all the words she needed to hear. The sex wasn't bad so Jacinda thought it was her responsibility to be a little more accepting of what was good about the sex and conversely try to gently suggest other things they could do together. Most other women would have been satisfied with a good, hard fuck but Jacinda wanted to incorporate toys, she wanted to try different scenarios and techniques, she wanted to have spontaneous sex at 4 in the afternoon in the shower or the kitchen or the park. She would have settled for him just being more tactile in bed. Anything would have been an improvement but she weighed the pros and cons of their relationship and decided it wasn't a deal breaker. Lying, cheating, doing something intentionally hurtful, those were deal breakers and she was assured Khari loved her and that was worth more to her than playing some silly erotic board game, a hot stone massage, or using chocolate body paints. 

On the night of their one-year anniversary, Khari took Jacinda to their favorite restaurant. They sat across the table from one another and gazed into each other's eyes, they flirted and talked and fed each other. Love was in the air. Khari realized that this was the longest, healthiest relationship he'd ever been in. He was caught up in it, thinking that he had really changed, that he was no longer a player but he was really, truly a good guy. He was starting to believe his own lies. He started to pour on the charm. "Over this last year, Jay, I've grown so much. You've helped me to be a better human being, and dare I say it, a better man. I am so comfortable with you. I can easily see myself spending the rest of my life with you." 

When he heard the words come out of his mouth, something instantly changed within him. Never stuttering for a second, while he was still professing his undying love, his mind was racing with thoughts that he wanted to end the relationship and end it immediately. He knew he had gone too far. Khari didn't want to spend the rest of his life with anyone. What he wanted was to fuck as many random women as he could, no strings attached, and never have to pretend to care about another woman for as long as he lived. Fuck what his family had been saying. He had gotten so masterful at lying, at pretending to be the sweet, sensitive boyfriend that he almost started to believe his own hype. The minute he heard himself say that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Jacinda, it was like being struck by lightning. He knew that he HAD to get out of the relationship and fast. He knew that he couldn't keep pretending to love her. He wanted to be as self-centered and narcissistic as he could be. He didn't mind pretending to be into women if they were just fuck buddies and booty calls and married women who had husbands to go home to but telling a woman that he wanted to spend his life with her, he had gone too far and the game had to stop. 

Even as he was sitting there, even as he heard his professions of love in his little prepared speech leave his lips, he was planning his exit. He was holding her hand, softly touching her cheek, and telling her things that every woman would want to hear and he was lying the entire time. He knew in that very moment that the next time that she brought up an issue about their relationship, he would blow it out of proportion and give her no choice but to break up. He thought about cheating on her and letting her find out but that was Plan B. Technically, he had cheated on her before but it but he justified in his mind that it didn't really count because it was only oral from some chick at his job he didn't give a fuck about anyway. He knew Jacinda; he knew that it wouldn't be long before she wanted to talk about "the truth" or feelings or how to make their relationship better, or something about relationship stuff. It was just a matter of time. 




Too Close for Comfort



That time came before he knew it. When they got back to her apartment, they settled down to watch TV as usual. Jacinda had been overwhelmed by his professions of love. She knew they had been getting closer, that the relationship was getting stronger and stronger with each passing day, week, and month, but she hadn't expected him to start talking about a future together. He had always been so adamant about not wanting anything long-term. She was happy, for the first time in her life, she felt like, "This is it, this is my happily ever after." The relationship wasn't perfect, the disparity in emotional maturity was offset by the ease, fluidity, and comfort they shared in so many other aspects of their partnership, but it was, or so she thought, healthy and happy and stable and just perfect for her. She figured it was the ideal night to talk about the lack of seduction and variety in their sex lives again. In her mind, he had taken a huge step towards her and it was really a game changer in their relationship. She chose her words carefully. Tentatively, she said, "Khari, I need to ask you a question."

"What?" he responded, his voice dripping with defensiveness, preparing himself for the showdown. 

"I've been thinking a lot about us, well, about you know, about our sex. I was just wondering if . . ." She hesitated. She wanted to be as gentle as possible. There was never going to be an easy time to bring up the topic but she took a deep breath and decided that if they really were going to spend the rest of their lives together that they had to have this discussion. "It seems like you have never feel comfortable being naked around me unless we are having sex. You aren't even comfortable with me being naked unless we are having sex. I was wondering if . . ." 

"Just say it," he said, pretending to be growing frustrated and annoyed with her stalling but really not caring one way or the other what she was about to say. Whatever she said, he was going to turn it into a reason to break up. 

Jacinda summoned up the courage to ask the necessary questions. "Well, I was wondering," she said in her sweetest voice possible, "I have been thinking about all the women in your past. And I've tried to make sense of the patterns in your life. Do you think the reason why you are so uncomfortable with being naked around me, and the reason why you seem to enjoy more of a wham, bam thank you ma'am is, I was thinking maybe the reason you aren't so comfortable with exploring our sexuality more is . . . maybe because you . . . you know . . . aren't . . . well, truly comfortable with your . . ." She took a deep breath. "Black men are perceived to be well-endowed and I was wondering if you might feel a bit uncomfortable because . . ." 

Before she could even finish her thoughts, Khari yelled, "DA FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?!?" He jumped up and stormed across the room, staring out the window into the dark urban street 14 floors below. "You trying to say my dick ain't big enough for you? Trust me, I have never had anyone complain. I got plenty of women who want to get down with me. Way hotter women than you, in fact." Jacinda's word cut him like a knife. He was hurt, truly hurt, and he was trying to hurt her back. This wasn't part of his master plan, this was the real deal. "So what, I don't have a foot of dick between my legs. I still blow your back out," he added. 

Jacinda ran to his side, tried to reassure him that she wasn't complaining, that she wasn't trying to hurt his feelings, she just wanted to be open and honest and discuss what might be behind the reason he was so unwilling to explore their sexuality more. 

The truth was Khari had been ashamed of the size of his dick since his earliest memories of knowing what sex was. He was on a little league team when he was 11 and he was the only Black boy on the team. In the showers after a game one day, one of the boys started making fun of him, pointing at his penis and saying how it wasn't big like Black guys were supposed to have, telling him he wasn't really Black. His dick wasn't smaller than any of the other boys on the team, it just wasn't hanging to his knees either and they made sure to remind him of it every chance they got. They told him that he would never get a white girl with his little dick; they said that he must have slave master blood in him because he didn't have a big, black cock like the other brothers in the hood. It didn't really matter that none of them had even been to the hood or seen another Black penis in real life. They were basing their comments on the interracial porn stashed in their father's porn collections. Khari never told anyone. He never told his parents, he never told the coach, he never told his friends or a girlfriend. He couldn't bring himself to say the words that they were making fun of him because his dick was average. In his mind, they were saying, your dick is too small and he carried that pain with him deeply. 

As Khari got older to the age when everyone was experimenting with sex, he was afraid to approach girls. Senior prom, he got up the nerve and asked a young lady to the prom. After the prom, they got a hotel room with a bunch of other kids, some alcohol, and they were off to make memories. Immediately upon completion, his heart racing and his mind full of doubts and insecurities, he asked her how it was for her. Her response was to be etched in his subconscious forever. "Well, I thought it was going to be different. You know, all my friends said it would hurt but it didn't. I thought it was going to be . . . better." 

With those words, she sealed Khari's fate. From that moment on, he decided that if any girl showed an interest in him, he would pretend to be in love with her so that if and when it got to the point of having sex, she wouldn't complain that he wasn't some super-hung Mandingo. It was his insurance policy. He didn't care who showed him attention, fat, ugly, younger, older, married, dating, nothing in common, he didn't care if she had slept with every man in a 50 mile radius, as long as she showed an interest in him, he would say whatever he had to say in order to get them to be infatuated with him so he could fuck her. He didn't realize that he all of the pretending that he was in love was unnecessary, that most of the girls would have slept with him regardless. He never realized that his dick wasn't too small at all, it was average. But having an average-sized dick for Black men is often times a source of shame. 

When he got to college, he made sure to never shower or undress in front of anyone, not roommates, not girlfriends, especially not anyone on the baseball team. At the first opportunity, he got an apartment by himself off campus. The only time he got naked in life was to shower and to have sex. He never even looked at himself naked in the mirror. Did he equate any of that with his insecurity about his dick size? Not once. Never having made any conscious connection between what happened to him when he was on the little league team and his behaviors with women for the last 25 years, the only thing Khari knew in that moment was that he was angry with Jacinda and he didn't need an excuse to end the relationship, she had nailed the coffin shut herself. 

Khari calmly denied her accusations and stood there, stoic and outraged, in silence, ignoring Jacinda like she didn't even exist. Jacinda was crying hysterically, trying to calm Khari down, reason with him. She was falling all over herself, apologizing. It hadn't come out at all like she had wanted. She wanted to reassure him that he was more than big enough for her, that she was satisfied with the relationship and the sex; she had made a stupid attempt at bringing up a subject that most Black men are terrified to talk about. Kicking herself, Jacinda knew she had made a huge mistake. She knew Khari wasn't the sort of man who would ask himself the hard questions. She knew that whenever it came to bringing up any issue where he would have to reveal something about himself that was ugly or painful, that he would react negatively and deny, deny, deny. 

"I'm out. I'm not going to do this anymore." With that, Khari grabbed his jacket and walked past Jacinda like she wasn't even there.

"Wait, where are you going?" Sobbing uncontrollably, Jacinda pleaded. "Stay, we can talk about this. I'm sorry. Babe, we had a wonderful evening. We love each other. We're going to spend the rest of our lives together. We can work through this. I will admit I wasn't as sensitive about the issue as I should have been. Let's talk, this is a misunderstanding, let's not ruin the evening. Sweetie, I am so very sorry. Please don't go!" 

Khari made sure to shut down any hopes of working things out as he put his hand on the front door. Without even looking back, he mumbled, "I don't want to be in a relationship with you. I didn't really love you. It was all a lie," as he shut the door behind him to the unhinged and irrational screams of Jacinda behind him. 

Jacinda cried for weeks. She sent texts, emails, cards, she made phone call after phone call, all of which were ignored. She sent links to articles about penis size and a woman's pleasure, explaining in detail that bigger does not mean better. She sent diagrams showing that a woman's g-spot is located about 2 inches inside a woman's vagina and that even an average sized dick is more than sufficient to give a woman a vaginal orgasm. She could have sent Dr. Oz himself to say that Khari's dick was more than big enough and he wouldn't have cared one iota. Khari was too emotionally immature to email or call Jacinda back so he just let her keep emailing and texting him until she eventually got the message. He had erased her out of his life like she didn't exist. In his world, anyone who made him face his insecurities was dead to him. Unable to wrap her head around the fact that she was in what she thought was the happiest relationship of her life one minute, and literally, an hour later, it was gone, Jacinda struggled with depression, anger, confusion, loneliness, and a sense of betrayal for months. 

Over on the other side of town, Khari struggled with no such conflict. They broke up on a Wednesday, he was fucking another woman by Saturday, and it would have been Friday but he had plans with his co-workers after work that night. Within weeks, he had a different woman for every night of the week to play with and manipulate. Most were women from his past he could call up and manipulate easily, newer women required more time and finesse to seduce but he was up for the challenge. He was single and had not ties to anyone. He would have tried to romance the homeless girl who sat on the bus stop all day if he thought she would give him some. Before work, during work, after work, all night long, he was trying to romance someone to get them in bed. He felt no compunction using them, degrading them, taking out his anger and frustration on them sexually. 

Truthfully, it wasn't anger and frustration Khari felt, it was insecurity and fear. He heard Jacinda's words over and over again in his head every time it came time for "that moment" when he had to undress in front of a woman. He hated her for making him feel like that little boy being shamed in the locker room, like the young man on prom night all over again; memories he had intentionally shut out. If there was one thing in life that Khari had prided himself on was making women infatuated with him to stroke his ego. He became so terrified someone was going to tell him that his dick was little that he began to overcompensate by doing his level best to hit it, stab it, kill it, to brutally and savagely fuck every woman he could. And the women ate it up. They showed up in the middle of the night or 5 AM in the morning, they were at his beck and call whenever he needed to silence the voices in his head. He loved the dysfunction and the drama. He loved lying to women, convincing them that they were the only one when they were one of so many, he couldn't keep track of them all. They didn't seem to want to know or care about other women in his life, they just seemed grateful for the emails, phone calls, dinners, concerts, and the good dick. 

For the better part of a year, Khari was on a sexual rampage; a slave to his dick. He was sticking it in anything and everything without a care for disease, pregnancy, common sense, or standards. Sex was his drug of choice and he was self-medicating and numbing his feelings of insecurity in all aspects of his life, demons he had never faced, with women he manipulated into bed. He wanted and needed to sexually dominate them, to slap, choke, degrade, and humiliate them in order to feel good about himself. And because they loved it, each and every one of them ate it up in fact, and came back for more whenever he told them, he felt high off the adrenaline. 

Everything came crashing to a halt one day when, before work, he was overwhelmed with emails from all the women in his current rotation of fuck buddies that he composed an erotic story and sent it to all of them, which wasn't unusual or uncommon. This particular morning however, in a rush, he accidentally didn't BCC them and by noon, his phone was blowing up with calls and texts from a half a dozen women all wanting answers. They started emailing each other, confirming times, dates, and commonalities in seduction. They all started to piece together that the restaurant that was "their special restaurant" wasn't so special and that he took all of them there. They started to figure out that in far too many instances, when one woman left in the morning, there was something else there that same night. And they all figured out that there hadn't been a condom used between all of them. 

Two of the women had a modicum of self-esteem, cursed him out, and walked away. Three of the women believed him when he said that it was all a contrived plot by a nameless ex-girlfriend who had hacked his e-mail and made up the other email addresses to cause drama. They "sort of" questioned his sincerity but they were just as addicted to his level of dysfunction, lying, and hot sex as he was to the adrenaline rush of manipulating them into being infatuated with him so they simply chose to ignore the obvious truth and keep on with the way things were. One of the women however was never really mentally-stable in the first place, and while she was sweet and oh so pleasant as long as she was in the dark, she became a psychotic lunatic intent on exacting painful revenge after finding out the truth. She stalked him, she called him night and day, she showed up at his job unexpectedly; she was intent on making him pay and pay dearly. 

One would think that at damn near 40, Khari would have learned that pretending someone doesn't exist, ignoring them like the emotional pain he had caused them meant nothing, is really only appropriate if you are 7 years old and you are ignoring your imaginary friend. But ignore he did and he paid the price for it. Had he simply faced his victim with a bit of humility and remorse, if he hadn't acted like she meant nothing to him and that her pain was insignificant to him, he could have saved himself a world of trouble. But Khari was arrogant and stupid. For every email that she sent him that went unanswered, for every text he deleted, for every phone call from her he rejected, he sent her into a fuming rage, infuriated that her voice wasn't being heard, her pain wasn't worth addressing. 

Treating women like disposable game pieces and ignoring the pain he caused them was a lesson he would learn with near fatal consequences. As he pulled into his garage one night, lowered the door, and grabbed his bags of groceries, the sensation hit him quickly. At first, it was warm, then, almost instantly, it became a burning sensation. He couldn't breathe. It was surreal. He reached around to his side and felt the warmth. He held his hand up and could see the blood, but it was almost like it wasn't his own. Crumpled to the floor, he managed to call 911 just before he passed out. 

Had she stabbed him an inch to the left, she would have punctured a lung and Khari would have died instantly. Talk about a close call. As he recuperated in the hospital, Khari thought it was almost comical. "I damn near lost my life over some pussy." But it wasn't pussy that almost got him killed; it was the heart of the woman who was attached to that pussy that he should have never fucked with. Even after a woman had played sushi chef with his insides, he still wasn't willing to acknowledge that he had done anything wrong. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that it had even happened to him. Things like this weren't supposed to happen to him. For all of his lies and manipulations, he was so great at lying, he'd avoided any drama like this up until this point. He was the guy that women loved, not hated. The physician at the hospital, hearing bits and pieces of the story and able to figure out pretty much the rest of it, recommended therapy for Khari and he vehemently refused. He didn't think there was anything wrong with him and he certainly didn't want to change. He liked being "free and independent" as he called it, meaning, egotistical and self-absorbed. 

In the months following the stabbing, there was a trial. The young lady was convicted but she brought out the infamous email and all the women were called to the stand to testify. Khari's family, hell, everyone in the city learned all about the type of man Khari really was because it was the opening story on the local news for weeks. He distanced himself from his loved ones and friends even though they still supported him but he was ashamed of his actions and just wanted to hide out in his basement and sit in front of the TV. 

Meanwhile, back at the ranch as they say, in the weeks following the trial, Khari found that his libido had started coming back and his need for sex was returning. Only problem was, he was afraid to initiate sex with anyone. Khari was sure that every woman in the world knew of his womanizing ways and that the next time one of them got close to him they were going to try to cut off his dick rather than stab him in the back. He would never admit it to anyone but he was even more afraid after the stabbing that women were going to ridicule him for having a little dick if he didn't lie to them and convince them that he was in love with them. Therein was the root of his conundrum. He was terrified of lying to women to get sex but he felt like he had to lie to get sex. He had a six inch scar to remind him of what lying had gotten him in life. 

Isolated from friends and family, with no one to talk to, and most importantly, feeling like he had no opportunities for sex unless he moved to east Mozambique, he pulled out the card for the therapist he had been given and made an appointment. It was the last thing he wanted to do and he didn't even think it would help. The only thing that made him keep the appointment was the vague memory of Jacinda and how she had said that maybe, just maybe, that his need to use women was tied to his concept of manhood. Something about that had resonated with him. He'd gone to counseling before and it didn't work because he, obviously, lied the entire time. He planned on lying this time as well. He just wanted a quick fix, some magic pill that would allow him to get back to fucking women again. 

For the first three months, Khari lied so much that he couldn't keep track of the lies. His therapist was a man and not distracted by or attracted to him so he would call out the lies and they would have to start over from scratch. Finally, lonely, isolated, scared, horny, and hating himself, Khari started to tell the truth. It started spilling out. He talked about the boys on the baseball team and how he pretended to his buddies that he had a big dick in order to feel validated. He spoke of the women in his life he had hurt, his compulsion to use women, what makes him feel good about slapping women and degrading them during sex. He opened Pandora's Box and he started telling the truth like his life depended on it. 




Too Close for Comfort



For the first time in his life he realized how deep the rabbit hole went. All the lying we did to women wasn't compartmentalized to just them. He became aware for the first time in his life that his Casanova ways meant that he was lying to everyone in his life. He had to lie to his parents, his brothers, his friends, his co-workers, more importantly to himself to cover up his addiction to sex and women. For the very first time in his life, Khari realized how there was no place in his life where the lies didn't consume him. 

For months, he did nothing but talk, the doctor barely asked questions, barely offered advice. Finally, Khari literally got to the end. He had purged himself of all of his guilt and lies, and confessions and revelations. Everything was out in the open. He was waiting to be fixed. That was the point of therapy and he was waiting for the doc to tell him to read a book and take a pill and he could go back to the way he was without the fear. He was growing anxious. He hadn't had sex in a months and he felt like he was going to die. Feeling anxious, he pushed the therapist to make a diagnosis and write a prescription for his anxiety.

The doctor casually said, "Khari, there really isn't much I'm going to be able to tell you that will convince you not to lie. You've built your life on falsehoods, deceptions, manipulations, and lies and you aren't going to change. I've never encountered a more pathological liar than you in all my years of practice. The only thing that can really help you now is if you stop lying to yourself and I can't imagine that happening because you are still not taking responsibility for yourself and the impact your lies have on other people." 

Khari was more than slightly irritated. "What the hell? You mean to tell me I've wasted 5 months of my life coming here every week spilling my guts and you are sitting here telling me that I can't be fixed? That I'm a pathological liar? Man, talk about a racket. That is a nice gig if you can get it, man. All I wanted was to be able to get back to normal. Glad my insurance covered this. Thanks for nothing, man." 

As he was headed for the door, the doctor asked one last question. "Khari? The lying. Other than a lot of sex, what has it gotten you?" 

The door slammed behind him but it was the words that rang loudest in his ears. In the stillness of his truck, Khari sat surrounded by the ghosts of his dysfunction for the very first time in his life. He sat in his vehicle and for the first time since childhood, he cried. He cried out the tears and the pain of a little boy humiliated by racism until he couldn't cry any more. He let the movie of his life play in his head. The doctor wasn't really asking him about the women he lied to, he was asking him if he had convinced himself with his lies that he was as gorgeous, talented, capable, desirable, and as perfect as he wanted to feel inside, as he wanted the world to see him. That's what every lie was about. He wasn't lying to convince women that he was all those things; he was lying so that he could try to convince himself. On the inside, Khari felt ugly, talentless, and undesirable and nothing he could tell himself or any other woman would change that. In that moment, Khari started doing the hard work of real therapy and the next week with the doctor was actually like his first. He started peeling off the layers of why he felt so unworthy and unlovable. 

Over the next year, Khari spent more time on that couch than he could count. Sometimes, he had two appointments a week. Everything was on an accelerated pace. It was like a 12 step recovery for him only his addiction was not booze or drugs or even sex, it was lying. The first thing he knew he had to do was get tested for STDs. The fear of having HIV was always in the back of his mind when he had unprotected sex but now he realized his low self-esteem was what was making him take such unnecessary and unhealthy choices. He started contacting women from his past, of his own volition and without prompting, and apologizing for the way he had treated them. Even women who had no clue he had lied to, women who would had fucked him without too much effort and a few strategic lies, he would confess his sins and extend his sincere apologies, something he had NEVER done before in his life. That's how he knew he was really changing. 

Eventually, Khari started dating again. This time, rather than pretending to be a nice guy, pretending to listen, he really was. He would have real conversations with women about real topics, real feelings, real emotions and he would share his opinions and offer insights based on his own revelations. For the first time in his life he started to be discriminating. He didn't just go to bed with any woman that showed an interest in him, he wanted women that could help him be a better man. He stopped romancing women for sport and he even got his heart broken a few times by women who wanted no parts of him because of his notorious past. Khari was becoming emotionally mature, something that had been a foreign concept to him up until that point. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?

There's always that little fly in the machine to muck things up though. For all of his making amends, the one person he hadn't contacted to confess and apologize to was Jacinda. He told his therapist it was because he just wasn't ready but then took a deep breath and confessed it was because he had loved her the most and that he had hurt her the most. He knew that what he was calling love before wasn't real because it was based on emotional deception but the happiest he had ever been in his life was with her. He knew now that what she was suggesting, the reason why he didn't want to be naked in front of her, the reason he wanted sex to be short, sweet, and to the point is because he didn't know how to be truly intimate, all he knew how to do was pretend. 

Fate has a way of fucking with you when you are putting off the inevitable. After the stabbing, Khari had been transferred to business accounts on his job and he got a work order to upgrade all the routers for the very TV station that Jacinda worked for. He couldn't sleep the night before. He got up at the crack of dawn and watched mindless TV not so patiently until it was time to shower and go to work. He pulled into the garage with a ton of apprehension. He didn't even know what floor she worked on, if she still worked there, or if he would come anywhere near her over the course of the next few days. Part of him was terrified that she would stab him if she saw him but another part of him wanted to just apologize and explain. If he was being honest with himself, a part of him wanted another chance with her but he realized through therapy that he had burned that bridge and that the most he should hope for was asking for her forgiveness even if she decided not to accept it. Well, that and he was saying a silent prayer as well that she didn't try to slit his throat. 

It's a good thing Khari kept an extra uniform shirt and some deodorant in his truck because he was sweating so profusely the first few hours there that he had sweated the underarms of his shirt clean through. It had been over two years since he had talked to Jacinda and he was remiss that he hadn't actually paid attention to her when she was talking so he didn't remember what show she worked on. Casually, as to not draw too much attention to himself, he asked a few people if they knew who she was. They all did but they said she worked on several shows and could be anywhere. One young lady said if she saw Jacinda, she would tell him that he was looking for her. He tried to play it off and tell her that wasn't necessary but he was anxious to see her. He could barely concentrate on doing his job he was so busy looking around to see if he could see her. He hadn't figured out a plan, he didn't know what he was going to say if he ran into her, all he knew was he wanted to see her and apologize. Anything beyond that, he wasn't emotionally mature enough to grasp just yet. 

"Khari, is that you?" The familiar voice called out to him while he was on a ladder in the lunch room, his head completely obscured from view by the ceiling tiles. His heart skipped a beat and he almost fell off the ladder. He climbed down slowly and saw her for the first time in years. She looked even more beautiful than she had before. 

"Hey, uhmmmm, hi. How are you?" He smiled nervously. 

Jacinda didn't respond, she turned and walked away, visibly shaken and upset. The old Khari would have let her go and not had another fleeting thought about her. The new and slightly improved Khari took a chance he had never taken before, he went after her. "Hey, wait up a minute. There's something I want to say, no need to say." 

Frozen in her tracks, Jacinda was overcome with emotion. She'd spent the better part of a year trying to heal from the hurt of their breakup. And just when she thought she had gotten to a place where she was okay with moving on, she had to be painfully reminded of his trial and the lies, and the women, and the hurt all over again every day for weeks. Everyone at her job knew she had dated him, everyone whispered behind her back about how he must have cheated on her. She fought back the tears as she stood there, looking at him, hurt and confused like the night he walked out of her apartment and didn't look back. 

Khari started apologizing, quietly, as to not draw too much attention while they were both working, but while the words were coming out of his mouth, he was thinking about the afternoon in his basement when she had come downstairs in nothing but panties, looking sexy and innocent with nothing but the most sincere motives, and he had treated her like she was some sort of criminal. Jacinda heard the words coming out of his mouth and they vaguely sounded like an apology but she was hearing that final speech about how he had never loved her and it had all been a lie. She didn't hear anything he said. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out how to make him feel like an idiot. He certainly didn't need any help in that department. He felt ashamed. And that was a good thing. It meant he was finally feeling remorse for the first time in his life. Not pretending to feel remorse, but actually processing his real feelings. 

Khari did everything in his power to make the job last longer than it had to. What could have taken a week or so, ended up taking the better part of a month. Every day, he would go out of his way to find Jacinda and say hello, offer to take her to lunch, apologize again, whatever he could do to just be in her presence. 

One of the things that being self-aware does to you is teaches you to forgive the people who have hurt you because you realize that they were doing the best they could at the time with the broken tools they had. In the years since they had broken up, Jacinda had done a lot of work on herself and she had it in her heart to forgive but beyond that, she didn't want to forget. The words, "I didn't really love you. It was all a lie," kept ringing over and over in her head. There was no greater betrayal. 

Emotionally, Jacinda was in the same place again. She could see that Khari was making an effort to really make amends. She could sense what she thought was his sincerity but she just couldn't be sure. She felt herself remembering the good times of the year they had together and not the bad times. If they had broken up because they had been fighting, if the relationship had been stagnant, she would be able to walk away and not look back. They had broken up when the relationship was at its best so she was flooded with emotions that she didn't understand. The man who was before her every day was not the same man who had lied to her about loving her. Or maybe he was and this was all a lie, all pretend, all meant to manipulate her. Every woman has to ask herself-- where is the line between being a doormat and truly forgiving someone? Oh, if life only came with an instruction manual. 

The very last thing Khari wanted to do was lie to anyone, let alone Jacinda. He knew he couldn't keep stalling on the job any longer so he made his move. "Hey, Jay, today is my last day here. I was wondering if I could call you some time and we could maybe hang out, go to a dinner, maybe catch a concert . . . Khari stopped. He realized that he sounded like the Khari of old. "OK, check it. I would just love to hang out with you. You can decide what you want to do. I will be happy just spending time with you. 

"I'm having a few friends over on Saturday. You're welcome to come over if you want." The words left her mouth before she realized what she had said. Her brother was going to be there. The same brother who swore he would kill Khari if he ever ran across him again. Her girlfriends were going to be there. The same girlfriends who had been there for her when she couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and who had counseled her to just let him go. She wanted to rescind the offer the second she made it. The look of pure bliss on Khari's face made her weak. 

"Cool. What time? What do you need me to bring? Do you live in the same place? I remember how to get there." To say Khari was elated was an understatement. In the time since the shooting, he hadn't been this excited about anything, about any woman. He was physically aroused and it had nothing to do with wanting to have sex. He just wanted to be in her presence, to soak up her energy. He wanted to show her that he was the better man that he had pretended to be with her those many years ago. 

Jacinda had prepared everyone that Khari was coming and EVERYONE voiced their concerns, shock, and utter disbelief that she would invite him. Her brother and father and several male friends huddled in the corner and planned on when and how to beat his ass. He had caused Jacinda to cry more tears than anyone should have to shed over one person. The female contingent of the party, the very same women who told her over and over again that she needed to ignore his emotional immaturity and hold on to him because no man was ever going to be sensitive and the best she could hope for was someone to pay the bills and not bring drama home were the women telling her NOW how she could do so much better. It was extremely humiliating for Jacinda to have to explain to people why should would even give him the time of day, let alone invite him over. She wasn't even sure she knew why herself. She wasn't thinking about tomorrow, she wasn't thinking about next week. All she was thinking about was the moment and something in her spirit told her that forgiving him meant accepting his offer of an olive branch. What was to happen after that, she decided just to let spirit guide her. 

Jacinda had reserved the courtyard in her apartment complex for the day. There were card tables, a volleyball net, a pool, and there was FOOD everywhere. Jacinda had recruited every food stylist, every reality show chef champion, executive chef, and every restaurant owner she knew to contribute food for the day. She had personally been cooking for months, freezing things and storing them at work. By the time Khari had actually gotten up the nerve to show up, the party was in full swing. He bought two cases of his favorite beer and made a beeline for her brother. They had met before when he and Jacinda were dating and he had liked him. Khari knew he had to fight that fire first. If someone had done to his sister what he had done to Jacinda, he would have shot him in the back without blinking an eye. This time, he came prepared with a speech and he pulled JJ to the side. No one could tell what was being said but all eyes were on them. Finally, Khari extended his hand to JJ, and JJ leaned in close, whispered something, and walked away, leaving him hanging. JJ and his crew huddled. They kept their eyes on him all day but they didn't cause any trouble. 

The party was great. Jacinda was her usual, vivacious, bubbly, charming self. There was a DJ and the music kept everyone festive. The food couldn't have been better, the alcohol kept everyone in a light mood without getting out of control. As the hour grew late, everyone started leaving. There was so much food to put away and Khari offered to stay and help clean up. Jacinda's apartment fridge was regular sized so she had gotten the permission to use the walk-in at the 24 hour grocery store next door to her apartment building. She was going to donate the leftover food to a shelter but they didn't start taking donations until 11 AM so she was going to do it in the morning. It was almost 2 in the morning before everything had been cleaned up. Everyone else had long since gone home but Khari was there, not complaining a bit, working like a Hebrew slave. 

"Jay, that was an outstanding party. Thank you for inviting me. I had a really nice time. It means a lot to me." He reached out and gave Jacinda a hug. Their bodies touched for the first time since the fateful night of their one year anniversary. It was an innocent hug. Khari pulled her body close and put his hands on her back where he was sure it couldn't be interpreted as inappropriate or sexual in any way. Her curves felt exquisite and her familiar scent reminded him of days gone by. He closed his eyes and he was in awe of the softness and warmth of her body. Jacinda relaxed into his arms like she had always belonged there. Electricity and sparks and chemistry were flying every damn where. They could have put on a fireworks show for the 4th of July all by themselves. This wasn't just lust; this was something bigger. 

Khari backed away as he felt his body react to the proximity and softness of Jacinda's. She was not at all oblivious to the intense physical chemistry that was happening. She took a minute to collect her thoughts. "Hey, it's late, and I'm sure you're tired. If you want, you can sleep on the sofa until the morning." 

An invitation like that would have been like taking candy from a baby for the old Khari. But he really was a different guy; he really was trying to do the right thing for once in his life. He declined the offer and went home alone. The old Khari would have had someone on standby to talk to on the phone to stroke his ego while stroked his member by the time he got home. The new Khari went home and held his pillow tight and remembered the sensation of that hug. He reminisced about the sounds Jacinda made when she was turned on and the way her body reacted when she was in the throes of an intense orgasm. He closed his eyes and he could see the ugly faces she made when she was getting fucked and how much it had turned him on. Mostly, he thought about how she had tried so very hard to make him open up and be honest and more comfortable in his own skin and how he had resisted her attempts. He had a momentary feeling of shame but he stopped, reflected on how far he had come on his journey towards healing and he drifted off to a sweet slumber with the word Jacinda on his lips. 

It was barely 8 AM when the doorbell rang and Jacinda shuffled to the door wearing her fuzzy slippers and her ratty bathrobe and a look on her face that clearly communicated, "Seriously? Seriously? I'm so sleepy I can't even form words. If I could form words, I would be cursing you out for knocking on my door at quarter to God forbid in the morning." 

"Gooooood morning, sunshine." Khari had coffee, juice, muffins, a dozen eggs, maple bacon, lox, bagels, cream cheese, fresh fruit, pastry and more in hand. He had enough food to feed an army.

Words that sounded similar to, "What are you doing here at this hour?" came out of Jacinda's mouth. 

"Water your dues in years, Eisenhower? Alrighty then, I see you are still not a morning person, Jay. That's OK, you go get a shower. I'll start breakfast." 

The smell of cinnamon rolls baking when she got out of the shower brought Jacinda back to life. She made her way back to the kitchen. Khari looked comfortable there. "Good morning," she said, a bit more intelligible this time. 




Too Close for Comfort



He handed her a cup of coffee. "I couldn't remember if you liked Hazelnut or Amaretto creamer so I took a chance and went with Amaretto. How'd I do?" 

She took a sip. Her taste buds came alive and she felt the warmth of the fluid travel down to her stomach. The jolt from the caffeine would come a bit later but the smell and the taste were like heaven to her. "What are you doing here?" she asked again, this time coherent and clear. 

"Well, I figured you have a ton of food to take to the homeless shelter this morning and what would take you 5 or 6 trips in your girly little hybrid scooter would take us 1 trip in my manly-man monster truck. So, here I am. Oh shit, you're going to make me burn the bacon. Do you have cheese for the eggs? Never mind, I'll find it myself. Go, go, go. Set the table and leave me be while I finish."

Breakfast was a feast made for a queen. They sat and ate heartily, like they hadn't eaten in weeks rather than the few hours it had been since the party. As the blood started pumping and the caffeine kicked in, Jacinda blurted out, "Hey, what did you say to my brother yesterday?" 

Khari froze for a moment and then looked Jacinda in the eye. "I told him that I loved you and that I was going to do whatever it took to get you back." Khari was telling the truth in more ways than one. He was confessing his truths and revealing himself in a way that made him vulnerable and afraid. That was a greater truth than he had ever known. 

Jacinda's eyes searched the room, looking for something to focus on to keep her from crying. She remembered the hurt and she wanted to lash out, to hit him, but she sat frozen for a few minutes. Khari let her process. "What did he say to you?"

"He told me that if I hurt you again that he would kill me." 

Jacinda gave a nervous chuckle and went back to eating. After a few minutes of awkward silence she spoke up. "You know, I don't want you back. You lied to me about loving me and I can never trust you again. I . . ." Her voice crackled and trailed off. 

Khari grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to the sofa. He sat next to her and tilted her chin up with his finger. He wanted her to look at him. "Jay, I didn't lie to you about loving you. I lied to myself. I have been walking around broken and insecure and immature my whole life. When I met you, I pretended to be someone I wasn't to impress you and get you into bed because that's what I did. I did, most certainly love you, however. Thing is, I didn't know how to love you the way you needed because I didn't love myself. Truth be told, I still don't know how to love myself but I'm working on it every day and I'm getting there. When we were together, I felt like you were too good for me. No matter how honest I was with you, no matter how many times I fucked up, you would look at me with these eyes that told me you saw something greater in me. I didn't know how to handle that. I only knew how to handle women who worshipped and adored the fake me." 

"With other women," he continued, "I could lie and pretend and they didn't dig any deeper, they didn't ask anything of me other than a romantic dinner and a hot fuck. I didn't feel worthy of you because I felt this ugly part of me inside was just going to end up coming out and when you finally saw the real me, you would stop loving me. The thought of that scared the shit out of me. No matter how much ugly came out of me, no matter how many lies I revealed, you kept finding something beautiful to love about me. I was afraid. You were so close to the real me, too close for comfort. I had run out of beautiful parts and I was afraid you wouldn't look at me with the same magic in your eyes when you saw the ugly, real parts of me. I didn't know how to deal with that level of insecurity so I did the only thing I knew how to do, hurt you before you had a chance to hurt me. I loved you, Jay, more than you will ever know. I just didn't feel worthy of your love and I fucked it up and I did heinous things and I will be forever sorry. I did love you but you have to know that I loved you in a way that I just didn't know how to deal with." 

Jacinda was crying hysterically again, just like the last time they shared time and space in her apartment, the night he walked out and crushed her heart. Khari got up and cleared the table. He came back and took her hand as he stood over her, "I'm leaving now. I don't want to hurt you; I don't want to see you cry. I'm so very sorry. But, Jay, I am going to come back. I'm going to keep coming back until you tell me to leave you the hell alone. I'm going to do everything I can to capture your heart this time and do it sincerely, not for you but for me. I want to feel deserving of seeing that sparkle in your eyes when you look at me; I want to feel worthy of being the man that you love." 

Khari didn't want to leave. He didn't want her to hear the door close like she had heard over two and a half years ago on that fateful night. He wanted to give her space and time to process so he left that morning but he had promised her that he would be back and he was going to keep that promise. 

Feeling overcome with emotion, Jacinda curled up on the sofa and cried for hours. She couldn't stop crying. By the time she had gotten herself together it was well past noon. He grabbed her car keys and ran downstairs to get the food to take to the shelter. It really was going to take her multiple trips in her small car because there was so much food. The guy there said, "Oh man, some guy came by a few hours ago and took all the food. I hope I didn't . . . oh man, I'm so sorry ma'am. I thought he was with you." She reassured him that everything was fine. At that moment, she got a text. It was a picture of a homeless man with a huge plate of food and a ridiculously huge grin on his face. She wanted to text back and say thank you but she didn't, she couldn't. She was terrified that this was just another emotional manipulation, a lie in the grand scheme of life and love. 

Over the course of the next few months, Khari worked his way back into Jacinda's life. He invited her to go to counseling with her. They went. Khari was making revelations and disclosures she was 100% certain that the Khari of old wasn't capable of doing. This new man was working on self-acceptance in all facets of his life, embracing the light and the dark within him, he was unselfish, most importantly, he was taking responsibility for his actions and handling constructive criticism well. It was almost impossible for Jacinda to wrap her head around all of it. All her life, she'd been told that men weren't capable of this sort of behavior and here she was, seeing it in front of her eyes. 

While they were growing closer week after week, month after month, they still hadn't gotten back together. It was almost as if they were becoming more like brother and sister or best friends than boyfriend and girlfriend. There was no kissing, hand-holding was a no no, there was no cuddling and there wasn't even the discussion of sex. Well, there wasn't the discussion of sex between the two of them. Khari made sure he was pretty open and honest about other lovers in his life. He was acknowledging his very human need for physical intimacy and he was truthful about his affairs. That was a first. 

Sex is a human drive and almost all the trouble Khari had gotten into in life was based on his deceitful pursuit and abject denial of it so he had a new attitude. Going forward, he was going to be safe in all his physical and emotional choices. He had a friend, Tina, whose husband had died and she wasn't ready for an emotional relationship but she didn't want to go forgo her sexual self until she was ready either. He didn't lie to her, he didn't pretend she meant the sun, and the moon, and the stars to him. He didn't use her; he simply maintained a connection with her that allowed them both erotic release without feeling used and without all the "taboo" triggers that used to stimulate Khari so much. Khari was completely upfront with Tina that his true love interest was Jacinda and that the minute she was ready for a physical relationship things between them would have to end. The same understanding stood in reverse and Khari was comfortable with it. 

As for other lovers in Jacinda's life, she wasn't as forthcoming. She would tell Khari when she had a date and she would answer truthfully when he would ask if the date ended in intimacy or not. She didn't want to share too many more details because she would have had to admit that every time she'd had sex since Khari had come back into her life, she'd fantasized about him. Every time she was aroused, her thoughts would drift back to Khari. In fact, there weren't many instances she could remember since she saw him on that ladder at work that she hadn't fantasized about him when she was masturbating. 

Things were at a stalemate for Jacinda and Khari. They had been spending more and more time together for the better part of six or seven months maybe. She'd stopped going to therapy sessions with him because she was convinced he was sincere in his efforts to grown. Khari could spend the night on her sofa any time he wanted and she had an open invitation to spend the night with him but she made it clear that she was more comfortable sleeping in her own bed. Khari knew that it was time to make a move. They had gotten to a place where she could sit a little closer on the sofa without Jacinda breaking out into tears but there was still no romance. 

With the weekend cleared of plans, Khari invited Jacinda over for a day of hanging out, nothing special planned, just whatever they wanted. Jacinda jumped at the opportunity. Khari sent her a text early Saturday morning saying, "out runng errnds. will lve bck door open. come ovr whn u wake up." True to her nature on any day that didn't include employment, Jacinda would rise at the crack of noon to greet the day. She showered and put on as many layers as she could to brave the elements and headed over to Khari's. 

She parked her car in the driveway behind his truck. She wasn't sure if his truck being there meant he was back from running errands or not. She decided to use the back door per his instructions. Placing her hand on the knob and twisting, the door opened immediately. She took off her coat, hat, scarf, and gloves and hung them on the hooks near the back door. As she came through the sun room and into the kitchen, she saw something she had never seen before. Khari was standing at the stove, fixing God only knows what, wearing just boxer briefs. He smiled at her nervously and said, "Oh, hey, you're here. Good, I'm glad to see you. Did you have lunch yet?" 

Jacinda was dumbfounded. "OK, wait a minute. Wait one minute. What's going on here? Why are you not wearing a stitch of clothing other than your underwear in the middle of the afternoon . . . in the kitchen? Help me understand this." 

All Khari could do was laugh. He was sure that the sight of someone in their underwear in their own home wouldn't be that strange of a sight for most people but for him it was a very foreign concept. "I wanted to try something new. If it offends you, I can go put on some clothes." 

"NO!" Jacinda blurted out almost too quickly, "Uhmmm, I mean, no, that's fine with me as long as you're comfortable, I'm comfortable." 

"Good, glad that's settled. You hungry? Lunch is almost ready. You can head downstairs and find something to watch on TV if you want. Jacinda headed downstairs. The fireplace was roaring and the coffee table already had hors d'oeuvres beautifully laid out. 

Before she knew what she was saying, Jacinda heard herself mumble, "My baby is an aspiring food stylist," under her breath. It was true in many ways. One of the things they had in common was their love of food. That couldn't be denied. And it was also very true that Khari was her baby. They were a couple; they just hadn't consummated it again. Yet. She settled on a marathon of Spike TV's Deadliest Warrior. They had this thing where they would pick opposing sides and each try to cheer their warrior to victory except if they were both creepy warriors. On those episodes, they just watched for the blood, and guts, and gore. By the time she was settled on the sofa and snacking on some warm, sinfully-delicious bites of something that had been prepared, Khari was bringing a tray with more food than they would ever be able to eat in one night. 

"Man, I turned the heat up to 75 and I have the fireplace going and you are still dressed like you are ready to trek over the frozen tundra. I thought by now you'd be out of some of those clothes." Jacinda started looking around for her purse in a frantic search. Khari inquired what she was doing. 

"Are you serious? I'm calling the police. OBVIOUSLY, you are some sort of imposter. Who are you and what have you done with the real Khari? You must be some sort of alien who's taken over his body . . . his very gorgeous body," she added slyly. She settled down on the sofa. "I didn't plan on staying so I didn't bring a change of clothing so I'm afraid this is what you get." 

"Man, this really isn't working is it? I invited you over here today because I want you to be more comfortable in my home. I want us to see if we are ready to go to the next level. I want you, Jay and I'm trying to take steps towards that. If you don't want me, please just say so because I don't want to make a fool of myself but I don't want to play games with you either. I want to be your man, in every sense of the word and I'm doing my best to show you that. We can take it as slow . . ."

Jacinda silenced him with a soft, small kiss on the lips. "I'm ready to take things to the next level. I'm scared but I'm ready." 

Jacinda stood back. She felt awkward but empowered at the same time. First, she took off her sweater and folded it neatly and placed it on a chair. Then came her turtleneck and another tank top underneath. Boots, socks, and jeans came off in succession and finally tights. She stood there, her body molded like a sculpture in sensuality, in her simple teal green bra and matching panties. All Khari could do was stare in awe. He never thought he would get this close to Jacinda again so this was overwhelming. His heart was racing and it felt like it was going to pop out of his chest. He pulled her close and closed his eyes. He waited. He held his breath and he waited. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he felt her soft, full, sensuous lips press gently against his. He opened his mouth slightly and melted into the kiss. She tasted like strawberry wetness, her tongue dancing over his sent shivers down his spine. The soft moans, the sounds of purring that she made ignited his passions that much more. He stopped her and tried to collect his thoughts for a minute. He was aroused and he didn't know how fast or slow she wanted to take things. For Khari, he had been waiting for this since he had the revelation in counseling. He was past ready. He wanted to make love to her on the sofa right then and there. But he respected that he had fucked up so majorly before that he would wait until his lady was comfortable. 

They ate lunch, watched TV, and snuggled. Even though it was plenty warm enough, they cuddled under a blanket, their bodies rubbing against each other. Khari wasn't at all shy about letting her feel his arousal; he wanted her to know that she turned him on. Because Jacinda had always been the more comfortable sexually of the two, she was enjoying every second of this erotic play. She gave up the pretense of watching TV and took his hands and guided them to her full breasts. He massaged her full, sensitive breasts which made Jacinda wet immediately. She was in no rush so she just luxuriated in the sensations. She wasn't sure how far things would or could go. Everything seemed to be rushing ahead but happening at the perfect pace at the same time somehow. 

As the afternoon wore into the evening, Jacinda asked politely if they could turn off the TV and just spend time together talking. Khari couldn't reach for the remote fast enough. The glow of the fireplace was their only source of illumination and while it provided warmth, it certainly wasn't their only source of heat. In the silence of the night, with just the sounds of the cold winter's wind howling outside to serenade them, they began a journey towards real intimacy. 

Khari laid back on the sofa, his head propped up by pillows. Jacinda slid between his legs and rested her back against his stomach. He wrapped his arms and legs around her tightly because he was afraid she was going to slip away. They covered themselves in the blanket and started talking. Jacinda had so many questions; mostly questions about what was real and what had been a lie in their relationship before. Khari was in scary territory. He had to remember that lying was his natural state and he didn't want to fall off the wagon so to speak. His heart was starting to pump faster. He could easily lie, he could easily say what he thought she wanted to hear and she would believe him. He'd done it 1000 times, hell; he'd done it 100 times or more with her. He took a deep breath, thought about the burning sensation he felt when the cold blade of steel pierced his flesh, and he started opening up. 

At first, Jacinda asked him questions about little things he had lied about, lies that she had caught him in but that he had vehemently denied. Everything in his body was telling him to lie. But as his adrenaline pumped, he swallowed hard and said, "I know you might never want to talk to me again after I tell you this but it's a chance I'm going to take. Remember that weekend and it was your sister's birthday and I told you that I had to have dinner with my family that weekend? Well, I just wanted to be alone. I didn't want to see you, I didn't want to hang out with your family, I didn't have plans with my family so I lied. I'm sorry."

Jacinda kissed the back of his hand. "I knew it." She paused for a brief second and said, "Thanks for coming clean about that. I really appreciate it." 

Khari was waiting for the other shoe to drop, he was waiting for the irrational neck-bobbing monster he was sure was going to attack him to come out and start cursing and screaming. But nothing happened. Jacinda didn't budge. She was still there, between his legs, cuddling and snuggling, and if he wasn't mistaken, she was still aroused. Her nipples were hard as little pebbles beneath her bra and he thought he could detect the faint scent of her wetness. "Go ahead, you can ask me some more. I promise to tell the truth." he said tentatively. 

Jacinda fired off more questions and they seemed to get progressively more difficult for Khari to answer but the more he realized that she was not trying to filet him, the more he felt relieved to get everything off his chest. And if he was being honest with himself, there was something making him feel . . . turned on by telling the truth. The more he would reveal, the more Jacinda would kiss and caress his body. He craved her touch. He wanted more. Soon, he was associating telling the truth with pleasurable sensations. Her hands on his thighs, her full, round ass rubbing against his slightly engorged dick, her lips playfully sucking his fingers; Jacinda was rewiring his brain. Khari was in a heightened state of arousal. The more honest he was with Jacinda, the more she would do subtle things to get him more aroused. His brain was re-learning to associate telling the truth with pleasure. 

They continued and Jacinda asked about the women he was with after they broke up. She wanted to know details, really intimate details. Khari felt afraid and comfortable at the same time. He kept telling the truth and Jacinda kept listening, calmly, without exploding. At one point, she was touching and caressing him and her hand touched "the scar". Khari froze. It was a reminder to both of them of his past. Jacinda didn't flinch; she just kept asking questions sweetly and gently touching his sensitive spots. 




Too Close for Comfort



"Now, I have a question for you," Khari said. "Does it turn you on for me to tell you about all the lies I told, about all the bad things I did? I mean, I'm telling you a lot of things that would make most women try to kill me. And I'm sort of an expert at that. But here you are, laying in my arms, and if I didn't know any better, I would say you are aroused by all of this." 

Jacinda shifted positions and was laying on her side a bit more. Her hand caressed Khari's chest, down to his stomach and down his thigh. "I would probably have to think about it a bit more to be able to really explain how I feel right now but the best I can tell you right now is, I'm aroused by you feeling so comfortable with me that you can tell me the truth about anything. I like the idea that you care about me so much that you are willing to make yourself vulnerable and be completely honest about the things that make you . . . well, I guess the best word to use is ashamed. I'm not aroused by the lies you told me or the things you did in the past. I can't change those things. They happened, they are over with. But I am aroused by the idea that today, here and now, you could make yourself so vulnerable, so open, so emotionally exposed that you would tell me things that scare you to tell me. It all feels very . . . intimate. I am turned on that you trust me enough to show me all the sides of you, even the dark sides. Does that make any sense at all to you?" 

"Yeah, it really does. I can be honest and tell you that being here with you, like this, so vulnerable and exposed, so outside of my comfort zone, and telling you the truth and being turned on is sort of confusing in a good way. It makes me want to keep telling you more of my truth. I guess that makes sense to you. I have another question. Well, it's sort of a confession. OK, here goes. You ready? Alright." He took a deep breath. "OK, here goes. Oh crap, I said that already. Shit. Arrghhhh, I'm nervous." He shook off the jitters and the words came spilling out in one breath. "I'm nervous to have sex with you because I'm afraid my dick isn't big enough and I'm not going to be able to satisfy you. There, I said it." 

Jacinda knew how monumental that was for him to say, how epic it was to admit that fear to her. He knew intellectually that he was more than big enough to satisfy her, he knew that he could please any woman in bed, but emotionally he was an insecure little boy who needed validation that he was good enough. Jacinda turned over. She knelt between his legs. Like a cat licking milk, she licked her tongue over his semi-hard erection beneath his shorts, up his stomach, across his sensitive nipples and on his sweet spot on his neck. Taking his hand in hers, she slid it inside her panties. Maintaining eye contact with him, he felt her pussy and it was SOAKING wet. "Khari, your dick is more than big enough to satisfy me. I'm so turned on right now. I can't wait to feel you inside me." There was a lot more she could have said to him but the fact that his fingers were covered in her juices and he could tell she was being honest meant no other words were necessary. 

Khari lowered the straps of her bra and unhooked the clasp. He asked with his eyes, "Is this okay?" She responded by feeding him her hardened nipple. He latched on to it like a started sucking immediately. His hands caressed her full tits and playfully pinched the nipples, teasing them to perfect points of desire. She responded by holding them up for him. He moved closer, smelled her natural scent and felt the warmth of her bosom. His first instinct was to nuzzle between them, to bury his face there and be surrounded by her womanly flesh. He hesitated. 

Jacinda leaned down and whispered in his ear, "I promise, I won't have any regrets tomorrow." 

With those words, their realities shifted. 

Khari flipped Jacinda over. Now, she was beneath him, her legs spread wide like a summons. He lowered his body to hers and pressed his mouth to hers. He tasted the softness of her lips and his tongue explored further. Their tongues danced together. It was a rhythmic dance; it was kissing as an art form. He could feel the underside of his tongue gently graze her bottom teeth; he inhaled her breath as his own. He couldn't stop kissing her. Her kisses were feeding his passion. Previously, he rarely kissed her or if he did, it seemed perfunctory like it was a juvenile closed-lip peck. That night, his kisses were full-mouthed, sensual, frenetic. He used his entire mouth and lips on her, driving her insane. It was like she was a sensual fruit and he was savoring every inch of her with his mouth, his lips, his tongue. He kissed her body, her neck, her shoulders, her stomach, Jacinda felt amazing; no, she felt consumed by love. His kisses could only be described as "full", not like he was just doing it out of habit but that he was enjoying tasting her skin with all of his senses. 

Jacinda was beside herself. She wrapped her legs around Khari and dug her nails into his back. Soft sighs of pleasure escaped her lips and he began kissing his way up her neck to her ear. She was squirming and wiggling as he made a feast of the soft flesh of her throat. She was biting his neck and licking his shoulders. Her hands were in constant motion. She was caressing his chest, his arms, his ass, his back. Khari was harder than granite and he was ready to take things to the next level. 

"Let's go upstairs where we can be more comfortable." He took her hand, held it tightly, and led her to his bedroom. She took a deep breath as she crossed the threshold. To say she didn't have reservations would have been a lie. She was afraid she was being played, lied to, she was afraid she was making a fool of herself for letting him get so close. But her body was on fire and something in her told her that this was right. She had to trust her instincts, she couldn't turn back now. She didn't even want to. 

One of the first things she noticed when she got into the room was that the nightstand next to the bed was full of sensual aids. Massagers, oils, vibrators, a few things she didn't even know what they were at first glance. She laughed softly out loud. "I see you were prepared for me to stay tonight." 

"Oh, that," Khari said, "uhhhh, yeah, that's been waiting for you for weeks." He caught himself. "Wait, I haven't been using that on other women just so you know. I set it out specifically for you. You can see for yourself, the candles have never been lit, the massage oil has never . . ."

Jacinda put her finger to his lips. This was to be a night about seduction, not explanations. She didn't have to say a word. For the first time since they had broken up, Khari saw that sparkle, that light in Jacinda's eyes that told him that she saw something beautiful inside him. And for the very first time in his life, not only did he feel deserving of that look, he FELT like there was something truly beautiful inside him that deserved to be loved. 

Jacinda climbed on the bed and sat Indian style in the middle. Khari took a deep breath and put his fingers under the waistband of his briefs and slid them over his thighs and down his legs, stepping out of them. It was in incredibly vulnerable moment for him. His dick stood out proud and hard. Jacinda scooted over and sat on the edge of the bed. She thought it would be the perfect time to show her appreciation for his dick. 

She wrapped her hand around the shaft and slowly, gently started stroking him. Khari's knees almost buckled, he felt light-headed and unstable. The pleasure was indescribable, so vastly different than when he stroked his own dick. She went for the soft and gentle approach. Khari felt like he was having an out of body experience. He looked down to see every detail. She brought her lips close to the head and whispered something soft and sweet. She was so close, he could feel the vibrations from her lips but he couldn't hear the words. He could feel the heat from her breath and the softness of her hands still stroking him. Her tongue darted out and softly licked the head, tasting the precum that was collecting there. Khari wanted to grab onto something for stability. 

Jacinda picked up her game. Guiding him closer, she looked up at him seductively and took the head of his dick in her mouth and held it there for a few seconds before she started sliding her mouth up and down the shaft. Her lips were caressing his dick, intentionally, skillfully, seductively. Khari couldn't help but moan uncontrollably. Her mouth was wet and warm and her tongue was doing things that made his toes curl. Playing with his balls, she starting moaning and humming on his dick, adding that much more pleasure to the amazing blow job he was getting. 

"OK . . . wait . . . stop . . . wait, wait, wait," he said. He was getting too caught up, too close. 

Khari had to collect himself before he lost control. Instructing her to lay down, he pulled her panties off and stared briefly at perfection. That wasn't his goal at that moment, he had other things to do first. Starting at her collar bone, he licked, nibbled, sucked and kissed his way over her entire body. He wanted her to feel special, desired, needed. Jacinda responded to every flick of his tongue with increasing passion. Paying special attention to the silky softness of her inner thighs, he sucked and kissed there passionately, inspired by the nearness of her pussy, the scent of her arousal. He knew that was his prize but he wanted to earn it. 

Turning her over, Khari did his best to give Jacinda a sensual massage. It wasn't his forte but he wanted to try to make her feel special. He lit a soy candle and it filled the room with the scent of Patchouli and the soft radiance of the flame. As the wax melted, it liquefied into a luxurious massage oil. The candle was infused with pheromones and they seemed to be having the effect of making Jacinda's senses more heightened. He poured the oil on her skin, she let out a moan that was primal and raw. It wasn't too hot but it was perfect combination of pleasure and that which is just shy of pain, a mix of sensual sweet and sour. She was grabbing the sheets and thrashing her head back and forth. Kneading her soft flesh, he worked his way down her back, to her ass and spent time on the backs of her thighs. 

The way he touched Jacinda was out of this world as well. He was actually caressing her body, making love to her with his hands. He didn't just touch her with his fingers, he held her, he felt her, he communicated with his entire hands. It is one of the only times she could remember him being so tactile and uninhibited. This was the way a man should hold a woman, caress her, the way a man poured his emotions into his woman with his touch. It was the stuff dreams are made of, the way she'd dreamed of being touched.

They were beyond words. Jacinda spread her legs and arched her back. Her pussy lips spread as an invitation. Distracted, tempted, crazed Khari had no choice but to bury his face between the luscious, full ass cheeks before him. Instantly his tongue darted out to lick her holes, he could smell and taste her juices. Rolling her over, unable to wait any longer, he pushed her legs back and started feast on her wetness. Her juices were flowing freely. Gently pushing back the hood to expose her clit, he lapped gently, making Jacinda create sounds from deep in her throat that could only mean she was enveloped by pleasure. 

She grabbed her legs and held them back, giving him access to her most private places. He licked her clit, softly sucked her pussy lips, and slid his fingers inside her tight, hot, hole. Jacinda was crazed. She was in that mental space where her sexuality was in control. The more he licked and fingered her, the more her juices flowed. She was sweating and chanting. "Fuck yeah, that feels good, please don't stop." 

Knowing Jacinda liked the tease just as much as if not more than the climax, he stopped. He wanted to keep her on the edge, keep her aroused and horny and begging for more. And man was she was begging. She had a glazed look in her eyes that was screaming, "FUCK ME," but Khari knew better. He intended to keep her like this for as long as possible, until one of them broke and they couldn't control themselves any longer. 

Pulling her on top of him, she rode his tongue to near orgasm. Well, near suffocation for Khari but he loved every second of it. The warmth of her thighs covered his ears but he could still hear her moaning and profane declarations of bliss. With a quick position change, he oiled up her breasts and slid his dick between her voluptuous pillows of tit flesh. He squeezed them together and played with her hard nipples and she was out of her mind with lust. 

"Fuck me, please, fuck me," was all she could say. Well, it was the only thing that she could say that made any sense. She was so turned on she couldn't make sentences or articulate her thoughts. She wanted to say that she had never felt so loved, so pleasured in her life. All that could come out was, "Fuck me, please, I need you inside me. Fuck me now."

Positioning himself between her legs, Khari grabbed his dick and placed the head at the entrance to her pussy. Lights danced behind his eyes. Before he knew what was happening, before he felt himself driven by an uncontrollable force to drive himself deep inside he. "Ohhhh shiiiiittt," he cried out, feeling the sensation of her wet pussy surround him. His heart was racing. Waves of pleasure consumed him. Jacinda was gasping for air. She felt full but desperate for more. 

Khari was in his zone. If there was one thing he knew how to do was make a pussy cream and squirt. He started stroking and Jacinda's eyes were rolling back in her head. Her legs wrapped around him and she grabbed his hips and pulled him to her. "More," was all she could say. And more he gave her. He fucked her deep and slow and hard. He built up his pace, fucking her faster and harder, making her scream. He could feel her pussy grab him and start throbbing. 

It didn't matter how many years it had been since they last had sex, Khari remembered her body in detail, he knew JUST when to stop before she climaxed. It took every ounce of strength in his body, in his soul to stop. He wanted nothing more than to push her legs back to her chest and drive his dick inside her until his cream coated her insides. But he didn't.

Needing a breather, Khari fell on the bed next to Jacinda and pulled her close. He needed a minute to calm down. She didn't. She climbed on top of Khari, aimed, and slammed her pussy down on his hard shaft. It was time for Khari to scream out now. There was something about the way Jacinda's pussy fit him when she rode him, there was something that hit the head of his dick that made him lose control. And that's just what she wanted. Jacinda was a woman on a mission. Placing her feet on the bed and her hands on his chest, she rode him like a champion. She made eye contact with him. She used her muscles to milk him. He reached up to play with her nipples and her juices coated him. 

"I'm coming," she said," I'm going to cum all over you.

"Oh you are? Well, let's see about that." In a flash, Khari flipped her over, put her on her knees, and pulled that glorious ass up. With precision aim, he was inside her, fucking her like a wild animal. There was nothing to hold him back; this was fucking like it was meant to be. It sounded like hot, sweaty, juicy sex in the room. Panting and breathing and juicy, squishing sex. Jacinda was at the point of no return, she couldn't hold back any longer. She screamed into the pillow as Khari grabbed her hips and delivered his essence as they exploded together. 

Khari woke up long before Jacinda would ever. He smiled as he watched her sleep. He had no desire to get up and do anything. He just wanted to lay there and feel protective of her. He gently pressed his lips to her forehead and whispered, "I love you," very softly. She stirred a little but didn't wake up. Khari slid out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He took a shower and put on a pair of boxers. Then, just as he was about to head downstairs and fix breakfast, he took the roll of toilet paper and hid it under the sink. 

Copyright 2013 AfroerotiK All Right Reserved 



Too Close for Comfort B



 Hi folks, Here's another tale of loss and woe. This is another long one, so if you're not prepared for that you might want to skip it. I intended this one as a nice long summer read with a lot of characters and a lot going on. It might be better not to try to read it all in one sitting. I should also tell you that this one is the B version of this story. It has been modified to fit your TV screens...well it has been modified for Literotica. If you would like the unvarnished version, most of you know where to find it. And I hope someone will tell the one's who don't. Thanks again to Barney-R for his editing wizardry. Please check out his latest stories, they're great as usual. No sex with under 18 characters in this story.

* * * * * *

I fidgeted on the chair as the old woman sitting across from me wrote mysterious things down on a legal pad. Occasionally she looked over at me. Once or twice our eyes locked as I caught her watching me. I was fairly sure that she was recording her observations of my behavior. 

Across the room another woman, the one I was married to for twenty two years, paced the floor as if she was upset. 

I looked at my watch again. The old woman noticed and made another note. 

"Okay," she said. "Let's get started. Yours is a very unusual case. Mrs. Matthews, can you take a seat?"

I spread my legs to take up more space. I turned at an angle to take up more space too. It didn't matter. She walked right over to the large comfortable chair and looked at me, as if to ask me to move over so she could sit next to me. 

"Dahlia, there's a huge sofa right there," I said, pointing at the sofa. 

"So, I want to sit next to you," she said.

"I don't want to sit by you Dahlia," I said. "Could you please just give me a little space?" She refused to budge. She even tried to move my legs over. 

"Okay, Dahlia, you can have the chair. I'll take the sofa," I said. She immediately turned and jumped on the sofa, smiling at me. I didn't move. 

"That's what I have to deal with every time we're around each other," I said. 

I noticed the doctor writing things down.

"Mr. Matthews, why don't you start," said the old woman. "This is an unusual case. I'd like to have the two of you just tell me what happened, first. Before we do any exercises or have any type of treatment, let's just talk about what happened to ruin your marriage."

"Our marriage wasn't ruined," spat Dahlia. "Grant just insists that everyone and everything around him is perfect. I made a mistake after eighteen years of marriage and he just wanted to throw everything away. It's just..."

Dahlia stopped talking when she noticed that the doctor had her hand up. 

"Mrs. Matthews, you will have your turn, I promise you," said the woman. "But in order for us to work more effectively, we need to respect each other's turns, okay. You do want this to work, don't you?" Dahlia nodded.

The woman looked at me and I began talking.

"As Dahlia said," I began. "We were married. We were more, far more than a married couple. Dahlia was my best friend. She was my soulmate. I know that sounds corny, but it's really true in our case. We were so close that we completed each other's sentences. We were together twenty three hours a day most of the time and had been for about eighteen years when things went to shit. 

We lived together, we ate together, and we slept together..."

"When we actually slept," Dahlia inserted.

"Anyway," I continued. "We also worked together. We worked in the same office for the same company on the same shift, doing the same thing. I have to admit that it was fun and I really enjoyed working with her. Scratch that, in order for this to work, I have to be totally honest, right?" Dahlia screwed up her face and the therapist nodded. 

"I'll be honest then," I said. "I loved Dahlia. She was so much more than just a wife. She was a part of me. She was my heartbeat. I loved spending every possible second with her. Both times when our daughters were born, I took vacation time to stay home from the time they were born until I ran out of time. 

As much as I love my daughters, I was stupid about Dahlia. It was almost painful for me to be away from her. She was the most beautiful woman I knew. Every day the first thing I did when I woke up was to thank my lucky stars that she had married me. And..."

"And the second thing he'd do was pull my legs apart and fuck me until ... Sorry, I won't interrupt again," said Dahlia.

"Well, we had a pretty active sex life," I began again. "And as I said all the way until my oldest daughter, Rose, turned eighteen and my baby, Lilly, turned fourteen our lives were heavenly. 

We would start most days, with a run in the park together..."

"The run came after the morning sex," said Dahlia. "I fucking hated running. I just did it because I didn't want to be away from him and he loved it ... I did it again didn't I?" She shrugged her shoulders and pinched her lips together. 

"Yep, I love to run," I continued. "I still do. I ran a lot slower back then, so I could look at Dahlia. I'm not saying anything negative about her now, but back then she looked incredible. I'm not just talking about her pretty face and pretty hair. Dahlia was about the same height she is now, but she only weighed about a hundred and fifteen pounds soaking wet. Her legs were amazing. Her butt was a work of art, and on her chest were the two most perfect..." I stopped. 

The therapist looked at me and so did Dahlia. "I apologize, ladies," I said. "I was inappropriate."

"Actually we're all adults here and I want your honest opinion and feelings," said the therapist. 

"Okay, I was one of the luckiest men in the world. I not only loved my wife, I lusted after her. Even after the births of our children, she was my dream woman, my fantasy girl. At thirty eight years old Dahlia was hotter than any Victoria's Secret model. And for eighteen years, she'd fooled me into believing that she felt the same way about me ... But it was too good to be true, because..."

"Fuck you, Stupid," hissed Dahlia. "If it was up to me, we'd still be married. You were the one who wanted the God damned divorce. I would marry you again right now if you asked me ... this isn't working, Doctor. Grant is telling the story from his view point only. He's distorting the facts to fit his version of the story. Whatever happened to Ladies first anyway? Can I go first?"

The therapist looked at me. I shrugged my shoulders and nodded. 

"Sure, why not," she said. "Mrs. , you go first." 

* * * * * *

Dahlia

"As Grant said, we were very much in love. Notice that I said "WE." I love Grant at least as much as he loved me. Notice I said "LOVE." I didn't say "LOVED," like he does. 

And as he said, we were always together. Our desks at work were right beside each other. And we also ate lunch together. Grant and I have tiny little differences in our personalities. I am basically a free spirit. I'm artistic and creative and I guess I might have been considered a bit wild or just unpredictable.

Grant on the other hand was the most organized man I have ever met. Everything with him was scheduled and regular. He was steady and very dependable. 

Together, we were the perfect team. We tempered each other's excesses. Grant kept me from being too wild and possibly getting hurt. I kept him from being too boring. 

Anyway, one day I was talking with a couple of the women in the office. We started out the usual way. We talked about men. I noticed that the two of them were always looking at Grant, so I made sure to remind them that he was exclusively my property. They talked about how lucky I was and how I had what they both wanted.

We ended up talking about what they did with their nights and we also talked about how Grant and I were never apart. 

"Not even every once in a while?" asked Glenda Stevens. "Everyone needs a little time to themselves once in a while."

"Grant and I have never been apart for more than an hour or two for the past eighteen years," I said. "And even then, it just seems wrong for me to be without him."

"Honey, too much togetherness isn't a good thing," said Mary Richards. 

"Yeah," agreed Glenda. "After a while, he'll start taking you for granted."

"Hey," said Mary. "Why don't you go on vacation with us? We're taking a seven day trip to Jamaica. The break would do you good. It could breathe new life in your marriage."

I wasn't sure that it was a good idea at first. But the more we talked, the more they convinced me that I really had to go with them. Finally I decided to talk to Grant about it. When I mentioned it to him, he looked like a balloon that someone had let all of the air out of. 

But he agreed. He told me it was no big deal. Our girls at eighteen and fourteen were pretty much old enough to care for themselves. He was sure that everything would be fine. 

I didn't find out until much later that he was all torn up inside about me going. He didn't want me to go, but he also didn't want to keep me from doing something that I wanted to do. He'd always supported any and every silly thing I wanted to try. So even though he was literally sick about it, he just said sure.

Thinking back on it, I missed a lot of things. As the day we would leave drew closer, I got more excited. Glenda, Mary, and I chatted constantly about things we would do on our trip. But what I failed to notice was what was going on right under my nose. 

Grant was already suffering and I hadn't left yet. I guess I was too close to see it clearly. But I guess others noticed it and they told me about it. But they never told me until after I came back. 

Grant and I were still joined at the hip. He and I still went everywhere together and did everything together. He even helped me shop for things for the trip. But Grant was clearly fading. That is ... it was clear to everyone except me.

The morning that our flight left, he hugged me as if we would never see each other again. But then he did that if I went to the market without him. Don't get me wrong. I was the same way about him. If Grant went hiking with the guys or to a football game or anywhere that I couldn't go with him; even if it was only for a couple of hours, I cried like a baby until he came home.

But this time I was so excited that everything else failed to register.

On the flight, the girls were subdued at first. They were different. Their usually boisterous personalities seemed muted. It was Glenda who spoke up first.

"How the hell can you leave him?" she asked.

"I've never seen anything like that," said Mary. "He looked like he was going to just stand there barely breathing until you get back."

"Shit, if I had someone who loved me like that, we'd never get out of bed," said Glenda.

"Oh shit," said Mary, when she noticed me. "Honey, don't cry. We're gonna have fun. You two need some time apart. It's only for a few days."

I spent most of my time on the flight either looking at pictures of Grant and my daughters, or reading my travel magazines about Jamaica.

From reading the magazines I knew everything about Jamaica. Or at least I thought I did. This means of course, that I didn't know shit.

Stepping off of the plane was like stepping into a furnace. I think they have a special, hotter, brighter sun in that part of the world. The heat hit me like a fist. I could hardly believe that people were walking around in it. 

Mary and Glenda, from the looks on their faces were faring no better. We were all thinking the same thing. We needed to get to the hotel as soon as possible.

After grabbing our luggage, we spotted a sign for the tour group we had joined for the trip. We pulled our wheeled suitcases toward the sign and checked in with a smiling local woman who was wearing a straw hat and huge sunglasses. She ushered us onto a bus. We were in heaven as the air conditioning on the bus gave us a break from the heat.

I was so relaxed on the bus waiting for the rest of the group to check in, that I almost went to sleep. The gentle movement of the bus starting off brought me out of my sleepiness though.

Looking out of the window as the bus drove though the streets I saw two worlds. One was full of happy smiling people and colorful signs and banners. There were restaurants, shops, and all kinds of things to do. 

But in other places, I saw dark, unwelcoming streets where there were very few people and the people I saw looked sad, broken, or angry. I wondered how there could be two such different cultures in such a small space. As I sat back in my seat though, I realized that my city was no different. Perhaps every city on earth was the same. There were areas where the well to do lived and other areas where the poor lived. 

I was jolted out of my thoughts by our arrival at our hotel. We were given our room keys, a copy of the tour's itinerary and instructions on how to get help if we were lost or in trouble. We were also told to stay within the hotel's very spacious grounds or the nearby areas at all times. Anything we needed could be arranged or handled by the hotel staff. 

"That sounds like good advice," said Glenda. "I came here to party, relax, and have a good time. Not to show up on one of those TV shows on the ID network."

"It sounds like bullshit to me," said Mary. "I didn't come all the way to Jamaica to hang out in a hotel. I could have done that in Michigan. I'm not going to stay at the pool; I'm going down to that huge beach we just passed. And you two are coming with me."

The three of us were sharing a suite. We looked everything over and decided that we'd had enough excitement for one day. The long flight from the coast and the shorter flight before it, from Michigan, had worn us out. It was almost evening anyway. We decided to grab a quick meal from room service and hit the pool or the beach early the next day. 

When we woke up the next morning, the sun was already up and blazing. We decided to have breakfast down in the pool area. Mary quickly convinced us to try out the hotel's beachfront as a compromise between her desire to hit the open beach and our intent to stay within the hotel's grounds. It sounded like a safe alternative that would please everyone, so that was what we did. 

As soon as we got on the beach we got a table. Mary summoned a waiter over and ordered a breakfast of fruit, juices, and coffee for the three of us. Everywhere we looked there were people in swimwear. We noticed that the clothing we had brought with us, although straight from magazines that proudly proclaimed it as stylish beach wear was clearly too much. 

Even matronly fifty year olds were wearing less than we were. After breakfast we went back up to our suite and changed. I changed into shorts and a T-shirt. I wore flip-flops and since my boobs needed a break from confinement, I just wore one of my sports bra tops that I wore for running with Grant. 

Glenda had on a really pretty sun dress. She gelled her hair back to get it out of her face and bought a huge straw hat to keep the sun off of her skin. Glenda, being a red head had very fair skin. 

"Really, Glen?" asked Mary. "You look like a frigging librarian on vacation. At least just throw on some shorts and a T-shirt, like Dahlia."

"I wish I could," said Glenda. "But I burn very easily, and my boobs are too big for me to run around in a T-shirt."

"Oh Jesus, Glen. You act like every man we run into is just after your tits. Believe it or not, Dahlia and I have boobs too. Put on a swim suit and live a little. We're here to relax and mingle," said Mary.

"What if I meet a really nice man? I don't want him to think I'm some sort of whore," said Glenda. 

"We're not here to meet nice men," laughed Mary. "We're here to get drunk, get fucked, and forget about it. This trip is about blowing off some steam and relieving the pressure of working every God damned day."

"Okay, why don't you be Mary, and relax the way Mary wants to, and let me be Glenda," said Glenda sharply.

We went back to the beach and took a table further down on the beach. From where we sat the border between the hotel's property and the open beach was only a few yards away. There were people as far as the eye could see. 

There were all kinds of people. A lot of them were beautiful young people on break from college. I was glad that I hadn't worn a swim suit. There were so many beautiful young women and handsome young men chasing them that I would have gotten lost in the shuffle. No one is really interested in a forty year old woman in a crowd like that. 

There were also families and a few older couples, although most of the families and older people stayed closer to the hotel. The activities were less raucous the closer you got to the hotel.

For the first three days we did the same things. We went to the beach during the morning hours, where Glenda whipped out her book of the day, and sat under a big umbrella in her huge straw hat and read. During the afternoon hours with the sun at its height, we went on bus tours, explored the island, and saw the sights. 

In the evening we went out to clubs and restaurants. We danced, ate, and had drinks until we could barely walk. It was on the third evening that it started. I was dancing with one of the guys from our tour group. I had been going a little bit further every day it seemed, and that evening I was really drunk. 

I was dancing really close with him, too close, and his hands were all over me. I was feeling no pain and when he started grinding on me, I just smiled and let him. 

The next thing I remember was Glenda coming over and pulling me away from the guy. She had a really stern look on her face and told me it was time for us to leave. Then Mary came over and told Glenda that I was a grown woman and I should be able to have a little fun if I wanted. 

"Jeezus, Glen," she's only dancing. "Who are you supposed to be her mother?"

"No, I'm supposed to be her friend," said Glenda. "I just don't want her doing anything that she'll regret." 

"I'm fine," I said. "I won't dance with any other nasty men." I sounded fine but I was drunk out of my skull. 

"I'm going back to the hotel," said Glenda. "I'll see the two of you when you get in." Everything in my brain told me to go with Glenda. 

"Glen, we only have two days left in one of the most beautiful places on earth. I don't want to get back to Michigan and have nothing to remember it by," said Mary. 

Glenda just nodded and after looking at me one last time headed back for the hotel. Mary grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the restaurant we were in. 

"Shit, I thought I would never get away from her," she said. We went down the beach further and further until we saw a huge bonfire burning right on the beach. We were away from the hotel grounds and most of the people were Jamaican. There were a few tourists there but they were mostly younger people. 

The acrid smell of powerful weed was thick in the air. Music was playing. It was a type of music I had never heard before. It was very rhythmic and percussive, with a singer doing more chanting or speaking than actual singing. 

Mary looked around in several directions and finally dragged me over to a couple of guys that I had seen her talking to earlier in the day. They were standing in front of a little shack on the beach. One was a middle aged blond guy with very blue eyes. The other appeared to be Hispanic. The blond wrapped his arms around Mary and kissed her. She kissed him back. His friend came over towards me as Mary and the blond guy went into the shack.

He reached for my arms and tried to pull me towards him. I struggled with him and tried to pull away. "No," I yelled. 

"Come on baby, relax," he said in heavily accented English. "We're gonna have some fun, that's all." He gripped my arms tighter. It seemed like his hands were made of iron. I couldn't pull away from him. 




Too Close for Comfort B



"Leave her alone!" said a voice from behind me. The Mexican guy shrugged his shoulders and went inside the shack. I noticed a look of fear on his rugged face 

I turned and noticed a big Jamaican man beside me. I had seen him before. He worked at the hotel. He was a lifeguard at one of the hotel's pools. I was so shaken up that I was no longer drunk. 

As I thought of what to say, I noticed another man slipping inside of the shack. 

"Thanks," I said. He smiled and nodded. Around us, the sounds of dancing and singing and screaming grew louder and wilder. I was caught between asking him to walk me back to the hotel and trying to get Mary to come out of the shack and walk back with me herself. 

I decided the smartest thing would be to get Mary. I headed towards the shack and the Jamaican man moved quickly. He inserted himself between me and the steps to the ramshackle little hut. 

"You don't want to do that," he said. "Trust me; you should wait for her out here."

"I'll take my chances," I said. I stepped around him and stepped onto the porch. I pushed the door open and stepped into to the one room shack.

Mary was there. I could hear her moans which told my brain what was going on. Mary was surrounded by men. There were white men, obviously tourists, or maybe men that worked in the area and several Jamaicans too. She had a dick in her mouth and one in each hand. There was a man behind her fucking her with the biggest dick I had ever seen. Two more men were in front of her one rubbing her stomach and breasts while the other rubbed her pussy. I realized then that the man behind her had his penis in her ass. 

The man that had been rubbing her pussy bent his knees and lined up before impaling her from the front. It was surreal. I was shocked. From across the room a Mexican man was taking his clothes off and another man, a balding white tourist that I recognized as part of our group both locked their eyes on me. Before they could come to me, as I stood there too shocked to move, my friend grabbed me from behind and pulled me out of the shack.

"I tried to warn you," he said softly. I needed to breathe. The scene I had just witnessed had shocked me to the core. 

I'm not anyone's description of a virgin. I'm forty years old and have given birth to two children. My husband and I had a very active and very imaginative sex life. Mary wasn't doing anything that I hadn't ever done, but it was just the thought of doing it with so many men at the same time. And they were just pounding away at her. They didn't care if they hurt her. She obviously meant nothing to them. 

But at the same time, Mary loved it. She was fucking them back just as vigorously as they were giving it to her. Her screams and moans told the story. I would never be able to look at Mary the same way again. 

The man next to me handed me a bottle. It was a very strong spirit. It started my head to swirling again and helped me to forget what I had just seen.

"How did you know?" I asked as I took another sip.

"She does it every night," he said. "At least for the past three nights. Usually she gets here later. Sometimes she does as many as ten or twelve. There were only about eight in there when you looked but it's early. She usually stays for three or four hours and then hurries back to the hotel. Some of my friends told me about it after the first night."

"But she's..." I began. 

"Not hurting anyone," he said. "And she's here of her own free will. The men there will make sure no one hurts her. They don't want to do anything to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs." 

As we sat there drinking, I grew more and more relaxed. So relaxed that when he handed me the biggest joint I had ever seen, I puffed it. I hadn't smoked since my college days and it was far stronger than anything I'd ever had.

Most of what happened was a blur after that. I woke up with Mary slapping me awake.

My head hurt. My mouth tasted like the inside of a sewer and that wasn't the half of it. 

"I didn't think you had it in you," smiled Mary. "Until I saw it in you."

"Mary, stop it," I said groggily. "Don't touch me. Who knows where your hands have been."

She just laughed. I was pissed. "You're a whore," I spat. "You let all of those men fuck you."

"What do you think you were doing with that Jamaican guy when I came out of the hut," she laughed. "I waited for you to make sure you got back okay." 

"Stop lying," I said. "You're just trying to get me to share the blame with you. You want me to be a whore because you are." 

"Dahlia, I'm a single woman with a very high sex drive," she said. "I like to fuck. I like to fuck a lot. It's why I've never been married. I have no children and no man at home waiting for me. I can do whatever the fuck I want. If anyone around here is a whore, it would be you. How many times have you returned your husband's calls since you got here? That poor man was practically in tears at the airport and you're here fucking a Jamaican guy right out in the open. You weren't even smart enough to do it inside where no one could see you."

My stomach suddenly felt as if someone had punched me in it. She just shook her head. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out her phone.

"I thought you might want a souvenir for your old age. Or maybe if your perfect marriage falls apart you could use it for revenge," she said.

She handed me the phone and it showed two people having sex. A large muscular powerfully built Jamaican man and a smaller slim but flabby, white woman thrusting her pelvis against him as hard as she could. 

The camera got closer and focused on the face of the woman. It was the same face I saw in the mirror every morning and the face was free of regret and clearly enjoying itself. 

I threw up. I felt as if a huge hand just reached out of the sky, grabbed me around my waist and squeezed everything in my stomach out onto the sand. 

"Nooooooo!" I screamed. "I was drunk. I was high."

"It doesn't matter," said Mary. "Shit, I took the video FOR YOU. I already told you that. I thought you might want the memory. I have lots of videos of myself. I won't have this body forever. In ten years I'll probably be built like you. Plus there's always the fact that when you break up with a guy, the best way to hurt him, is to show him a video of you fucking someone else and really getting into it. You can tell him that he NEVER made you cum like that. It just destroys them."

"Delete it," I screamed. "Please Mary, delete it now!"

"Okay, calm down," she said. "You didn't kill anybody. You didn't start a war or destroy anything. As near as I can tell all you did was made one guy really happy."

"Mary please, don't tell anyone," I begged. 

"Calm down Dahlia," she said. "What happens in Jamaica stays in Jamaica. You keep my secret and I'll keep yours."

We turned and started walking towards the hotel. I felt miserable. My ass and pussy were both throbbing and not in a good way. I felt as if I'd been torn down there. 

The worst possible thing about it was the ache in my heart. I kept thinking that as soon as Grant saw me, he would know. He'd notice something was different about me and I wouldn't be able to hide it. 

We got back to the hotel without further incident. We slipped into the room without waking Glenda and I got into the shower. Luckily our suite had two bathrooms because I stayed in the shower long after Mary had finished and gone to sleep. I kept thinking if I stayed under the water long enough, I could actually get clean. But I had no such luck.

Glenda woke me up at the normal time but I felt as if I hadn't been to sleep at all. "You look awful," she said. "Maybe you shouldn't drink so much."

I looked across the room to where Mary stood. She looked as fresh as a daisy. As she'd said, she had no guilt to burden her. 

We went to breakfast but I found that I couldn't eat. I tried to call home but only got the answering machine. Then I remembered that life had gone on and even though I wasn't there, Grant had gone to work and our girls would be in school. 

I left a message telling him how much I missed him. And that I would be the first one off of the plane. 

We went to the beach as usual and I fell asleep in a lounge chair under and umbrella while Glenda read her book and played scrabble. Mary spent her time people watching as usual. But as I watched her I realized that all along, she'd been planning and setting up her nocturnal activities. 

She must've done that on the first three days as well. She would watch the beach until she found exactly the type of man she was looking for. It didn't matter if they were married or single, young or old. Once she found one she'd get up, and amble over to them. She would exchange a few words and come right back to us. It never took more than two minutes. 

Glenda and I had no idea what she'd been up to. It no longer mattered to me what she did. We had our pact. I'd keep her secret and she would keep mine. 

"Dahlia what's wrong with your hand?" asked Glenda, looking up from her book.

"Nothing," I said. "I guess that I'm just not used to being without Grant. Whenever I feel funny or shitty, I'm used to having his hand to hold onto. I want to go home. I'm never letting my husband out of my sight again. Coming here was a mistake. Even when we go out to see the sights, I'm not really enjoying anything because I keep thinking that it would be so much better if Grant was here."

"Well you're certainly lucky to have him," said Glenda. "He's definitely attractive. And he's so nice too. That's why I wanted you to watch what you were doing last night. It would be a shame for you to lose a man like that. I don't think you'd find another one like him."

At once terror clutched my heart. All I saw before me was an image of myself alone. I vowed that it would never happen. When we left Jamaica, the only person who would know what had happened was Mary and I would kill her if I had to.

A bit later in the afternoon, we were just about to go back to the hotel to catch a tour going to an exhibit of local art, when a big Jamaican woman came to speak to me. 

"You will not go on the tour with your friends," she said. "You are to stay in your room. You can say that you are not feeling well, or that you need to rest." 

"Why would I do that?" I asked, looking at her suspiciously.

"I have no idea," she said. "I am doing this to repay a debt. I was told to give you the message. I was also told that if you asked any questions, I was to tell you to remember last night. I have no idea what any of it means." Then she simply walked away. 

Glenda came over to me and asked what the woman had wanted. 

"She works in that souvenir shop that I was telling you about," I lied. "We were talking about the T-shirts. I wanted to get T-shirts for the girls."

When we got back to the hotel. I lay down on my bed. "Hey come on sleepy head," said Mary. "We've only got half of today left and then tomorrow. After that we're going back to working our asses off and our boring normal lives."

"I miss my boring normal life," I said. "I'm tired, I think I'm going to catch a nap and meet you guys when you get back here after the tour."

"You do look kind of out of it," said Glenda, with a note of concern in her voice. 

After they left, I began to worry. I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I knew who the message was from, but I wonder what he wanted. 

I didn't have to wait long. Within five minutes of my roommates leaving, he knocked on the door.

I opened the door and he quickly stepped inside. I remembered his features from before everything went fuzzy. Seeing him brought some of it back. The drink he had given me had calmed my nerves after the other man had tried to drag me into something I didn't want to do. Seeing Mary in action had shocked me even more. 

Obviously the liquor had been stronger than I thought. I remembered smoking a really strong form of marijuana as well. That had been a mistake. I had smoked weed only a few times in college and even then, it went straight to my pussy.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. He crossed the room and opened the blinds widely. He tapped the side of the plant on the desk. His presence overwhelmed me. He seemed to be so strong. Even in his hotel uniform, he seemed almost too primal to be trapped in the clothes. 

He smiled at me as if he could read my thoughts. 

"F-F-fine," I said. He moved even closer to me. He didn't make any sudden movements. He moved very slowly. He reached out one huge hand and I just watched it as it got closer to me. 

I gasped as the hand cupped my vagina through my shorts. My mind cried out about how wrong it was, but for some reason I said nothing. He leaned over and kissed me. At first the kiss was gentle. But it grew more insistent by the second. 

The hand rubbing my pussy stopped and I groaned in protest. But the hand, joined by the other pulled my shorts and panties down around my ankles. Then the hand resumed its exploration. 

I spread my legs giving him better access. He pushed one finger inside of me. I had already begun gushing vaginal lubricants in preparation for what was about to happen. He pushed my purse off of the bed and onto the floor. Then he pushed me down onto the bed. He pulled his pants down revealing a monster of a penis.

I knew then, why I had been so sore this morning. I shuddered at the thought of him pushing that monster inside of me. But at the same time I knew there was no way it wasn't going to happen. 

He crawled up my body and hovered over my mouth. He fed it to me and I opened my mouth as wide as possible and still barely got it inside. I licked and sucked like a madwoman and it only served to make me want it more. My pussy throbbed in anticipation. Finally he pulled it out of my mouth and positioned himself between my legs. 

He pressed forward gently but firmly. With infinitely slowness he pushed the head inside of me as I could only watch. It felt as if he was splitting me in half and I screamed. Inch by inch he fed me the monster until I could take no more. 

With the head of his penis lodged against my cervix it could go no further but there was still a portion of his thick snake outside of me. He pulled back and then pressed forward stretching my tortured pussy even more. Stroke after stroke, he increased his pace until he was just slamming me against the headboard. I heard screams and moans and then realized that they were coming from me.

Then I felt it. This was the point where normally, at least with my husband, I would begin to feel waves of pleasure. But I felt only friction. It was too much. Soon the friction became pain and a burning sensation. 

"Stop," I said. "Get off of me!" He continued sawing away at me. As I watched his face it suddenly dawned on me now stupid I had been. He didn't care that I wanted him to stop. What I wanted didn't matter. There was no expression of love for me on his face. That was what I got from Grant. This was just a man fucking some whore who let him have her. I was no better than Mary. In fact I was worse. Mary knew her partners and gave her consent. Mary did it because she wanted to. I didn't even know this man's name. I was just some stupid tourist who had given him her body the night before and he wanted more.

He came to my room and after exchanging fewer than ten words; he'd reached out and started rubbing my pussy. And I had not only allowed it, I had made it easier for him. I had by my actions encouraged him. Suddenly he thrust even harder, making me feel as if he had just split me in half. A slight grunt and then he pushed even further inside of me if that was possible, before releasing a flood of warm fluid. 

Afterwards he just rolled off of me and began dressing. 

"Not bad," he said. "A little vanilla for my tastes, but not bad. Too bad you're only going to be here for another day or so. I'll have to get what I can out of you before then."

"No!" I said sharply. "I'm married. I won't do this again. Stay away from me, or I'll..."

"You'll what?" he sneered. His friendly tone was gone, replaced by a cajoling yet menacing tone that suggested that my cooperation would be in my best interest.

"You'll either do as I say for the next thirty six hours or so, or your husband back in Nebraska will find out what kind of slut he's married to. If he has any balls or any self respect at all you'll be replace by another Midwestern farm girl before the ink on the divorce papers is dry." 

"Michigan," I said.

"What?" he asked.

"We're not from Nebraska. We're from Michigan," I said. 

"Who gives a fuck?" he snapped.

"What happened to your accent?" I asked.

"Bitch, I'm from Chicago," he said. "My parents were Nigerian, so I can turn the accent off and on as need be. But that's not for you to worry about. You just be ready when I call you. Perhaps you need a reason to be ready ... I mean other than your fascination with my dick."

He pulled out a phone and stuck it in my face. He pressed a button and a list of emails came up. He turned to the window and waved. I thought he was crazy. But then I understood why he had opened the blinds. Someone from across the courtyard waved back. As I watched another email with an attachment appeared on the list. He opened the attachment and a video started to play.

It showed him walking into the room and talking to me. It showed him reaching out and rubbing on me and me, leaning back and opening my legs for him. I snatched the phone out of his hands and smashed it against the floor.

"Do you really think I can't get as many copies of that video as I want?" he asked. I just looked at him stupidly.

"Don't worry about the phone," he said as he left. "You've already paid for IT and more. You might want to report your credit card stolen so all the shit we bought with it, comes off of your account. I'll be expecting to see you tonight."

At that moment, as if to make things worse, the phone rang. For the first time in days, I spoke to Grant. His voice was a combination of joy at hearing from me and misery because we had never been apart for this long since we'd been married. It was silly because it had only been four and a half days, but I felt it too.

It felt as if we were a world apart. 

"This was so stupid," I said. "We will never be away from each other for more than an hour or so again."

I spent the rest of the time until Glenda and Mary got back talking to Grant on the phone. He filled me in on everything that he and the girls had been doing since I left. I told him about everything I'd done. Leaving out what had just happened and what had happened the night before. 

The problem was that he asked me over and over again what was wrong. It was as if he was psychic. Grant knew or at least he felt that there was something off about me. That just told me that I needed to get my shit together before I got home to him or he would pick me and my lies apart. 

My roommates walked into the suite and found me on the phone. They both smiled when they realized who I was talking to. Mary came over and made faces at me. Her antics made me laugh and I told Grant what she was doing. 

When I hung up the phone, they were both kidding me about my call. 

"Damn, you look better already!" said Mary. "I wish I had someone who could make me that much better just by talking to him on the phone."

They were right. Just hearing Grant's voice had made me feel stronger and more determined that I would get out of my current problems. My marriage was too important to risk. 

We went to dinner in one of the hotel's restaurants. We had a nice dinner that helped to relax me. After dinner we went for a walk on the beach. Just as the sun went down, Mary decided that it was time for us to go back to the hotel to get ready to go out. 




Too Close for Comfort B



As they dressed, Glenda noticed that I wasn't doing anything.

"Hey, Slowpoke, you'd better hurry up," she said. 

"Glenda, you two go ahead," I said. "Grant promised to call me before the girls went to bed so I could talk to them too."

She looked at me and shook her head. 

"We've gone out every night since we got here," I said. "I miss my kids."

"You're supposed to miss them," she smiled. "Now that's the Dahlia we all know and love. Do you remember when we talked about you and Grant needing some time away from each other?" I nodded.

"We were wrong," she said. "Maybe the rest of us are just jealous of what you have. The two of you clearly love each other. Shit, you guys are one of the few long time married couples I know who don't argue." 

As they headed out, I grabbed the phone. I punched in the most familiar number I knew and waited as it connected. 

As soon as I heard the most important voice in my life, I answered.

"I love you Grant," I said. 

"I love you too, Dahl," he replied. "I've got a couple of ladies here who want to talk to their mom." 

A short time after I hung up the phone, he knocked. 

I opened the door a crack and saw him standing there. The smile on his face was one of confidence. I hated that man more than anyone else I had ever known. 

"You ready?" he asked.

"No, I'm not having sex with you again," I said. "I don't know what came over me this afternoon, but it won't happen again."

"Okay," he said. He turned to leave. 

"Just like that?" I asked.

"Of course," he said. "I'm not some thug. I'm a business man. I can't force you to do anything. Of course you not being ready to do what I wanted, means that you are ready to give up your marriage. I'll send copies of those videos to your husband."

"No, wait," I said. "I'll do it. I have no choice."

"Great," he said. "Shipping is so expensive these days. I really didn't want to send that package to your husband."

"Come on in and do it," I said without enthusiasm.

"Oh it won't be me," he smiled. "I have someone else lined up. He'll be right up to see you."

About five minutes later there was another knock on my door. I opened it to find a thin balding man standing there. He seemed familiar to me. Suddenly I realized that he was one of the men from my tour. He recognized me as well and smiled. 

After some embarrassing small talk during which I tried to explain my plight; and how I was being forced to do it. I got an idea about the character of the man I was about to have sex with.

"Sucks to be you," he said. "But, Honey, things are tough all over. I was actually hoping for the redhead with the big knockers, so I'm a little upset too. Let's just make the best of it." 

He wanted his dick sucked. And he moaned and announced it to the world when he was ready to cum. After that he looked at his watch. 

"Suck me hard again, whore," he spat. A short time later, he was fucking me. He wanted me on my stomach with my ass in the air and he just pounded me. He treated me less like a person and more like an object. After a while he reached around me and gave my tits a vicious squeeze as he continued to pump away at me. 

I didn't fuck him back; I just let him take what he wanted. 

"The thing that makes this so nasty and so hot is the fact that you're someone else's wife," he said. 

When he came the second time, he insisted on pulling out and spraying his cum all over my face. At least it was over, I thought.

Unfortunately I was wrong. I ended up having sex with four different men that evening. It probably would have been more, but Glenda was on her way up when the last man left the room. 

The next day was a repeat. Dennis, the fake Jamaican man who was making my life hell, came up to the room to fuck me one last time since it was my last day. He tried to get his huge dick in my ass, but he wasn't able to get it in. 

He told me that he had five men lined up for me that evening as well and when I took care of the last one, he would give me the flash drive with the videos on it. I could go home and forget about the ordeal I had just gone through. 

The five men were all varied in terms of size, race, and appearance. One of them was the Mexican man I had refused the first night. Apparently Dennis would take anyone's money. 

The one thing that was the same about all of them was that they wanted their money's worth and they didn't give a damn about me. No matter how much I protested or asked them to take it easy on me, my cries fell on deaf ears. I swore that after that ordeal was over, no man except Grant would ever touch me again. 

I was almost surprised when Dennis handed me the flash drive with the videos on it.

"Don't go away mad," he smiled. 

"Fuck you," I spat under my breath just loud enough that only he and I could hear it. 

"You already did," he smiled. "Twice. And it really wasn't that good." Then in a loud voice that everyone around could hear. "I hope you have enjoyed your stay in Jamaica. Please come back soon."

"Like fuck I will," I spat angrily.

"Is sex all you ever think about?" he asked. I walked away trying to think of a way to kill him painfully and get away with it. 

On the flight home, I did everything I could to wipe the events of the past few days out of my mind. While Glenda and Mary talked about things we had done and saw, I tried to forget everything. Even remembering the good things would only serve to bring the horror back. 

As soon as the plane landed at the airport, I went into panic mode. I was very afraid that Grant would take one look at me and simply walk away from me. I wondered if Dennis had simply given me the flash drive to take my mind off of things and then e-mailed the video to Grant just to be an asshole.

The moment that I stepped into the tunnel, something that had been missing in me returned. I could feel Grant. I could feel his love, and how much he missed me. Our eyes met across the terminal and we both started running towards each other.

And then I was in his arms again. I was happier than I had been in a long time. He lifted me off of my feet and kissed me very passionately and I returned his passion. People in the terminal stopped and smiled watching us. 

"Get a room," laughed Glenda.

"We've got a house full of rooms," I said. "And we're going to re-christen every one of them." 

I didn't let go of Grant's hand until he retrieved my bags and even then I held onto his arm. As strange as it seemed, I wasn't joking. Even though my pussy was so sore it hurt after the abuse it had received over the previous three days, I wanted to fuck my husband so badly that my pussy throbbed.

My need was two-fold. On one hand I needed to make sure that my marriage was still secure. And on the other, after the abuse I had suffered over the previous few days, I needed something to reforge the connection between sex and pleasure. The last thing I needed was to remember being abused every time I thought about sex. I needed Grant to make love to me and to give me orgasms instead of just pounding me for his own pleasure the way the men in Jamaica had. 

When we got home, I sat in a tub full of warm water and my favorite bath salts for a long time. Then I got out and went to bed. I left the lights off to keep Grant from seeing any marks on my body or the redness around my vagina. 

Grant wanted to eat me, and I wanted to let him, but I stopped him. I thought that if he was that close he might notice something. 

As soon as Grant entered me, it only took him three or four strokes before he slowed down. He had taken his time pushing into me and I moaned in pleasure. This was the way sex was supposed to be, or so I thought. I noticed that Grant had not only slowed down he had stopped. And then he pulled out. 

He rolled over to his own side of the bed without saying anything. I knew that I was in trouble.

"Honey, is something wrong?" I asked.

"You tell me," he said quietly. "It feels different. I even tried to stick my pinky into your ass. Normally, I can barely get it in. And even then you're cumming like crazy. I just stuck my index finger up your ass to the second knuckle."

"Honey, I have no idea what you're talking about," I said. "I missed you a lot. I did borrow Mary's dildo. And I kind of used it on that other hole too. I wanted us to try that so I figured I'd loosen it up for you. And as far as how it feels, you've been jacking off again haven't you?" 

"You were gone for a week Dahl," he whined. 

"Grant, I keep telling you not to do that," I said sharply. "No pussy on earth is going to be as tight as your fist is. Especially not one that has had two kids pulled out of it." 

"I'm sorry, Dahl," he said. "I just missed you so much."

"Oh, Fuck!" I said. "You were watching that damned video again too weren't you?" 

"It just happened," he said. "I missed you, Honey." I had to keep the pressure up. 

"What else did you do?" I asked. "The girls were already asleep when we got in. That means that you let them stay up as long as they wanted didn't you?" 

He was surprisingly quiet. "Okay that's it," I said. "We will never be separated again. No more vacations without each other. I go away for a week and the girls are running wild and you're jacking off to porno." 

"It isn't porno," he said. "It's a video of us."

"That isn't us anymore, Grant," I said. "It's you and a younger version of me."

"You still look the same way to me," he said. "And I love you just as much."

Somehow it seems as if I made it through the nightmare.

* * * * * *

Grant

"Only you would see it that way, Dahlia," I said.

"For me the nightmare was just beginning. I was confused and on edge, but I had no idea why. 

I loved Dahlia so much that I always thought that I could feel her. We had a strange connection. And as she'd said, she could feel me and felt what she'd been missing while she was in Jamaica. However, I could no longer feel her. I wanted to. But the connection just wasn't there.

When we got home, it got worse. And when she pulled me into the bedroom for sex, it became clear. I had no idea that she had cheated on me. I just knew that something was different, and it was wrong. It's like the feeling you get when you've lived in a house for a long period of time and then one-day someone breaks into your house. From the moment you step in the door, you always know that something feels off, even before you notice what is missing. 

And that was how I felt. At first, there was the anal thing. Dahlia and I flirted with anal on several occasions. She loved to have me stick my finger up her ass. However, that ass was so tight that there was no way I'd get my dick in it. But that night my finger slid up into her ass so quickly and so easily that it threw me for a loop. 

As shocking as the finger was the rest was more hurtful. My dick had been inside of Dahlia more times than I can count, but the second I got it inside of her, I knew. 

I tried to rationalize it. I tried to come up with different reasons for what I felt, but none of them seemed to make sense. After a few strokes, I just stopped. We had a conversation, if you can call it that. I admitted to masturbating during the week that she was away. She knew me well enough to be able to figure out what had happened while she was gone. Why didn't she realize that I knew her just as well? I guess the idea of her cheating was so foreign to me that I didn't come to that conclusion. I knew that something was very wrong, but I didn't think that she had done that. I did, however, know that Dahlia was lying."

"I ... I ... I just couldn't bring myself to tell you then," said Dahlia, interrupting my story. "I didn't want to hurt you, Grant."

"So you just lied to cover up what you did," I spat. "Dahlia, you had your turn. I was quiet, and I listened without interrupting you. Give me the same courtesy."

She nodded her head, and I continued. 

"As I was saying, I knew that something was wrong. I woke up early the next morning and rolled out of bed to go for my morning run. I started to wake Dahlia up, but then stopped. For some reason, my hand refused to reach out to her. I thought at first that I had, during the week that we were apart, grown used to running alone. But, there was more to it. 

As soon as I started to run my mind filled with thoughts about Dahlia. I felt as if I was trapped in an episode of the twilight zone. My wife had gone away on vacation, and someone else had returned. Whoever the creature was she had probably killed my Dahlia and had taken over her body. She looked like Dahlia. She sounded like Dahlia. Nevertheless, I was convinced that it was not her. It sounds crazy, but that was how I felt.

For the next few days, I tried to act normally. However, it was hard. I had to concentrate and force myself to do things that were usually just automatic reactions. When Dahlia came near me before, I automatically kissed her. I couldn't help it. I was always so glad that she was mine that I couldn't stop myself from kissing her or hugging her. And I think that was a big part of it. Since Dahlia had come back, I just didn't feel like she was mine anymore."

"I'm still yours, today, Idiot!" spat Dahlia. "Even after all of this time. Even after what you did to me and the way you've treated me. I'm still yours ... Okay, I'll shut up."

I sighed heavily at her outburst and tried to compose my thoughts enough to continue.

"So I walked around in limbo for a few days while trying to act normally. I guess that I failed in that. Dahlia was always telling me to hold her hand, or asking me why I didn't kiss her. She looked at me as if I was crazy when we watched TV, and I didn't sit next to her. I tried, believe me; I wanted things to go back to normal even more than she did. However, my heart was telling me that things just felt off.

A few days later the flames began. I immediately went to see my doctor. I got right to the point with him. I knew that I could speak freely with him because he'd been our family doctor for more than 18 years. Besides that he was a friend. My kids hung out with his kids, and we got together for parties and barbecues.

"Tom, it burns when I pee," I told him. He smiled and told me we'd run some tests. "There are all kinds of reasons for that," he said. He assured me that it was probably nothing, but then that's what doctors always do. They tell you it's probably nothing until they figure out what it is, and after that they tell you it's something they can fix. Then they tell you why you got it and what you have to give up or start doing more of to get rid of it. 

Trust me; I was the last person on earth to suspect what had happened to me. Even so, a few days later Tom called me and asked me to come into his office to discuss my test results. 

He tried to make light of the situation. "So Grant," he began. "This is a fairly normal situation. You and Dahlia have been married for a very long time. She goes away on vacation without you for the first time ever. You decide to try something ... uhm, different in her absence. You mistakenly pick up the wrong woman and for your trouble, you pick up something she's carrying. We can easily cure it, but what we have to find out is did you have sex with more than one woman during Dahlia's absence and more importantly, have you had sex with Dahlia since she got back?"

My mouth dropped open in shock. It was like my peripheral vision narrowed in from both sides until everything went black. I didn't faint or fall over like those women on TV, but for a while, I just stood there in front of Tom on weak legs, with my eyes as big as saucers. 

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed. "You had no idea, did you?"

I just stood there without reacting. 

"Grant; I know this is hard for you, and I'm sorry. I am regretful. This is fairly common. People like you and Dahlia are rare. However, it's not as unheard of as you must be thinking. You and Dahlia are so close. ... too much actually ... closer than most couples ... too close actually ... I've never actually seen the two of you apart. Admittedly Grant, the two of you are too close for comfort. So it's only natural that sooner or later one of you would need a break just to have some breathing room. And that while you're breathing, that person, precisely for the experience might want to try someone else."

I still didn't react. 

"Grant when she came back, how did she act?" He asked. "Is she still touchy-feely with you or has she begun to pull away to a more normal distance?"

I didn't answer him. I was just too shocked. It felt like my entire world had come apart. He started me on a course of treatment and told me not to have sex with anyone until he retested me, and I had a clean bill of health. He also told me to have Dahlia come in to see him as soon as possible. 

I called in sick at work that day. It shocked Dahlia. She called me several times during the day to see where I was. People at work asked her about me, and she had no idea what to tell them. 

When my uncle had died a few years before, he had left me his heart and soul. He left his house, his money, and his investments to other relatives, but I'd always been his favorite. So he left me his small cabin. It's more like a vacation house on a lake that was only a hundred miles or so away from where I lived. 

The house had fallen into disrepair. At first when I saw it, I thought that my uncle had just left me a headache. Even so, I remembered my uncle fondly and didn't want to sell the place. As I explored the cabin and then the shed and garages, discovered that my uncle had left me most of his treasures. The biggest shock was the 1967 Mustang fastback in the garage. 

I checked with the lawyer who was serving as the executor of the estate. He assured me and several of my cousins and uncles that the language of the will specifically said that I was to have the house, grounds and everything therein. There was also the fact that the car, my uncle's prize possession, was not mentioned anywhere else in the will. 

My uncle had a number of brothers, including my own father. A couple of them made very generous offers for either the cabin or the car; but I turned them all down.

My uncle Phil was particularly persistent in his offers for the car. He even offered me five thousand dollars plus a brand-new Mustang of my choice for the car. I always turned him down flat. 

The car had been neglected for many years, but as I stepped into the garage with her the first time after being assured that she was mine, I felt a connection. In those days of course, Dahlia was with me when I went out to the garage to meet the car, but to her, it was just another old car.

I did most of the work restoring the car myself. The things that I couldn't do, I paid good money to have professionally done. I only hired contractors who would put as much love into the car as I would have done. There came a time though that I had to decide on which path to take in the restoration effort.

I decided then and there to modernize some of the car's systems. I know that a lot of my relatives were shocked. I guess they expected me to do a full period restoration to return the car to the exact specs it had when new. They probably expected me to get it restored and then sell it at one of those fancy auctions to rake in big bucks for it.

That wasn't in my plans at all. I wanted the car redone so I could drive it. The car was a connection to my uncle, and I loved it for that reason if none other. I also saw it as my last car. It was the car I would drive until I died, and then I would leave it to someone I loved, and who would love it as much as I did. 

The car had so affected me that when it was time for me to have a new car for a daily driver, I bought a new 2012 Mustang GT. The day I found out what Dahlia had done to us, I took the 67' out for a drive.




Too Close for Comfort B



I barely saw the road that I traveled on. I just drove it faster and faster. I think I had the idea that if I was lucky, I might be able to drive fast enough to leave all the pain behind me. On the other hand, maybe the Mustang could somehow enact one of Einstein's theories and let me drive backwards in time and say, "NO," to Dahlia's trip to Jamaica. 

I wish I had just told her that we could take our own trip to Jamaica as a second honeymoon. It wasn't like we couldn't have afforded it. But then as often happens, my trip down, "what I wished for avenue" had been detoured to "how it probably was" drive. 

The thought came to me then that perhaps Dahlia had gone to Jamaica for the sole purpose of getting away from me, so she could fuck someone else. Maybe she had been screwing some guy right here in town under my nose and had just used the Jamaica trip as a chance to be with him more. 

It hurt thinking about it. It all just fucking hurt too much. After several hours of driving, I decided to do what I have always done. I decided to give Dahlia one final gift. I would give her the gift of freedom. She would no longer have to worry about being trapped with me. She could go out and screw whomever she chose. She could hang around with Glenda and Mary and do whatever single women did. 

I pulled over and got my iPhone out of my pocket. I went on the Internet and found the site of one of those ADAM-like agencies that represent men in divorce cases. 

The man I spoke to on the phone was very courteous. He told me he had an appointment for later that afternoon. I looked at the phone's GPS and realized that it would take me at least two hours to drive home from where I was. I set up the appointment for the next afternoon. 

While I sat there in the car, I made a few more decisions. I called my boss at work. He had always been more of a friend than a boss anyway. I explained to him that Dahlia and I had been having some problems, and I thought that separating us might be a good idea. 

He was shocked. Even so, he told me that he was going to have to do it soon anyway. Our work was so good that he was going to make one of us the new department manager. 

I told him just to move me somewhere else in the company and make Dahlia the manager. 

I drove home, for the first time in my life dreading my arrival there. Once I got there I pulled the 67' into the garage next to my 2012 Mustang. Dahlia's SUV never went into the garage. She hated the trouble of having to open and close the garage and sometimes having to move other cars to get it out.

As soon as I stepped into the house, I was grabbed. My daughter Lilly snatched my hand and led me to the table in the dining room. "Dad, Algebra, explain," she said. "I've been waiting for you to come home so we could do this."

"Why didn't you get...?" I began.'

Lilly had the same habit of completing my sentences or knowing exactly what I was going to say that her mother and sister had. 

"Rose, doesn't understand it either," she said. "She got a C in the class and promptly forgot everything she learned. And Mom can barely do regular math."

My older daughter, Rose, appeared after hearing her name. "I don't need to do Algebra," she said. "I'm going into media communication. Algebra was just taking up space in my brain that could have been allocated for something else. I never actually transferred it over to long-term memory." She floated out of the room on the same cloud that she had floated in on. 

Rose had inherited Dahlia's artistic side. Where Lilly, like me, was far more factual and practical. 

Dahlia came into the room, and like a magnet to steel gravitated straight towards me. I pretended that I hadn't seen her and positioned myself so that Lilly was between us. 

"I guess we should start on this Algebra ASAP so we can be done before dinner," I said loudly. Lilly and I sat down at the table and stuck our heads in the book.

Luckily for Lilly, I'm one of those parents who actually remembers some of the things they learned in college. I could help her understand the basics of working with algebraic equations. She took to it like a duck to water and by dinner time was grinning from ear to ear. 

During dinner, the girls dominated most of the conversation. Dahlia sat there quietly soaking it all in with her usual smile on her face. Knowing her the way I did, told me that after dinner, she would declare it to be Mom and Dad time and the girls would be on their own. 

So even before dinner was done, before anyone else got up from the table, I was on my feet and heading for the garage. Dahlia came right after me. 

"Grant, Honey, I thought that we might watch a movie together," she smiled. I turned looking at her, not knowing what to say. There was an awkward silence between us. 

"What's wrong, Grant?" she asked. "You've been acting weird lately. Before I went on my stupid trip, you were acting as if I was leaving you forever. You walked around like a little boy who had lost his best friend. Then ever since I got back, it just feels like you've been avoiding me or punishing me aside because I went away from you. We've been joined at the hip for twenty God damned years Grant. I was only gone for a fucking week. Stop acting like a child and get over it."

She was angry; I could see it. My anger was there as well. It bubbled just beneath the surface, waiting to be released. 

"You don't hug me like you used to," she said. "You don't kiss me. You don't even hold my hand anymore, and we haven't had sex since the first night that I returned. It almost seems like you didn't want me to come back. In the time that I've been back, you've pulled further and further away from me Grant. You wake up every morning and go out running without me. The first day back I thanked you for it. I was worn out and needed to sleep in. However, ever since then, you've never even bothered to ask if I wanted to go running with you."

"I'll tell you a secret, honey. I hate running. I hate it with a passion. But I would do anything to spend time with you. That's why I go running," she said. Her voice broke. . She was almost crying.

"This morning, I had no idea where you went. I expected you to come in to work and tell me about it. I had all kinds of people asking me where you were. Someone else had to tell me that you had called in and taken the day off. Do you know how stupid it made me look not to know where my own husband was?"

She crossed the room and stood in front of me. "What is going on with you Grant?" she asked. "Why are you pulling away from me? I can't take it. What do I have to do to fix this?"

She just stood there looking at me as if she expected an answer.

"This morning after my run, I went to Tom for a check-up," I said. "I have an STD. And since the first time I met you, I've never had sex with anyone else, you tell me how I got it." 

Her face broke then. She started crying and slobbering and telling me how sorry she was and ran out of the room still mumbling apologies. I went into the garage and just pulled out a lawn chair. I sat there between my two Mustangs and lost myself in my thoughts and memories. 

Even when it got dark, I just sat there thinking. I thought about what my life would be like and what I wanted. It was a hard thing to think about. I had never even considered being without Dahlia. There had to be some way for us to get past this. 

There was surely some way to wipe this all out of my memory, so we could start again. Dahlia and I had been together for nineteen years, give, or take a month or so. I sat there in the dark doing the math in my head. It's really hard to do that kind of math without a calculator, but I had the time. 

Dahlia and I had been together for two hundred and twenty eight months. That was nine hundred and twelve weeks. It had taken us six thousand nine hundred and thirty five days to build the bond of love and caring for each other that she had destroyed in a few hours of cheating. 

It was like being at war. Two sides have differing opinions so one side drops a bomb that destroys everything in its path. It destroys buildings, machines, and art, and people indiscriminately. A bomb doesn't care, it just destroys. And in the aftermath, the shell-shocked survivors are left to rebuild or sometimes just to move on.

The destruction itself takes only moments. And usually both sides are shocked by what has happened. However, it's the survivors of the bombing who have to walk through the devastation and try to pick up the pieces. 

The problem for me was that I just wasn't certain there was anything worth rebuilding. I wasn't confident that there was anything I wanted to have back; at least not between Dahlia and I. More than anything else I felt like a fool. For almost twenty years, I had allowed Dahlia to become the one thing I couldn't live without. I really believed that she felt the same way about me that I felt about her. 

What she had actually become was a weakness ... a blind side. Trouble always comes from the place where we least expect it. 

However, I was tough. I was so strong; that I knew I could fix the things that were wrong in our marriage. The only problem was that the more I thought about fixing things, the less I actually wanted to. I searched my heart and my mind for a solution. I thought about forgiving her. 

I thought that I could just let it go with her promise that it would never happen again. However, I realized that would never work. Even if I forced myself to say the words. If somehow, I could utter, "I forgive you Dahlia," without choking on them or without all the bile I would create to make me vomit. It would never be true forgiveness. 

For argument's sake let's say in theory that I somehow managed that feat. Would I ever trust her again? Would I ... or could we ever get to the point where I ever forgot what she had done?

To be truthful, I have to say no. I would never completely trust Dahlia again. And without that blind, brave, unthinking, selfless, fearless, foolish, wonderful trust, the idea of love becomes an exercise in futility. 

I'm not built like those battered women. I don't have it in me to suffer abuse repeatedly, while hoping that the person they love will change. I don't have it in me to watch Dahlia like a hawk or even more stupidly, not watch her and just pray that she never hurt me again. 

Sometime after midnight, Dahlia came into the garage. She turned the light on to try to find me. She looked around the garage and didn't see me. I had gotten into the 2012 and laid the seat back to be comfortable. 

Dahlia walked around the garage and finally spotted me. As she reached out to try to open the door, she heard the sounds of the electronic locks snapping shut. My message was clear enough that she got it. 

The next morning I woke and went out to run as usual. As I passed from the garage into the house, I noticed Dahlia asleep on the sofa in the living room. She looked like hell. Even closed, her eyes were puffy. And she seemed to be fretting and talking in her sleep. I crept silently up the stairs and changed into my running clothes. I was gone a few moments later. I drove to a nearby park and ran along the trails in the cool morning air. 

I nodded to several other runners as I put one foot in front of the other. I had always been able to clear my mind and think as I ran. That morning I thought about what I wanted my life going forward to be like. I guess I wanted to make things as easy for my girls as possible. 

Of course, they would have to be told. Conceivably, Dahlia would agree just to move out on some sort of pretense. She could tell them that she got a better job and had to move to a different city or state. I would continue to live with them in our house until they got out of school and were on their own. 

By that time, they'd be used to Dahlia, and I living separately. So that when we told them that we had just grown apart, years later, it wouldn't be such a huge blow. As fully grown adults, they would also be much more equipped to handle it. 

I went back inside the house and upstairs into our bedroom. I heard Dahlia in the shower, so I quickly grabbed clothes out of my closet. I checked Lilly's room, and she was asleep. 

I ducked into the bathroom separating the girl's bedrooms, grabbed a shower, and shaved. I dressed and had almost made it out of the room when Lilly's eyes popped open.

"Hi Daddy," she said sleepily. "What're you doing?"

"Your mom was using our shower, and I just used yours to..." I began.

"Why didn't you and mom shower together like you usually do?" she asked. Though she was the youngest, Lilly was much more aware of things than her sister. 

"We're in a hurry," I said. "And..."

She yawned and smiled. "And you don't have time because if you were in the shower together you'd end up kissing and stuff, right?" she asked.

Lilly was getting up and following me by then. As she followed me out into the hallway, we ran into Dahlia. "Right," I said. 

"What's right?" asked Dahlia. 

"Daddy just told me that he had to use my shower, because if the two of you were in the shower together you'd end up kissing and stuff," said Lilly smiling. 

Dahlia looked at me awkwardly. She looked as if she was about to reach for me. I turned and hugged Lilly as hard as I could. "Go back to sleep, baby girl," I said. "You don't have to wake up for an hour or so. Make sure your sister isn't late for class."

I turned and walked down the stairs, with Dahlia followed right behind me. "Grant, lying to your daughter isn't a good habit to get into," she said. "Just because we're having problems doesn't mean you have to start lying to her."

"First off, I'm not sure how to tell either of them about us," I hissed. "Secondly, you're in no position to lecture anyone about lying or being deceitful. And third, how the hell do I even know if she is MY daughter?"

The last one hit Dahlia below the belt. Her mouth dropped open, and nothing came out. She had no idea what to say. I used that lapse on our conversation to grab my keys and head out. A lot of mornings Dahlia and I would drive in to work together. 

That morning, by the time I had opened the garage door and backed the 2012 out, she was just opening the door. By the time she came off the porch, I was out of the driveway and gone. 

I went into the office and reported to my boss. He took me around to my new area and introduced me again to Bill Davidson. Bill was on the same managerial level as my boss. We knew each other for a while. I had helped out in Bill's department a few times when they were behind, due to vacations or unexpected departures. 

From being there in the past I already knew several of my new coworkers and settled in easily enough. I let Bill know as soon as I got there that I had an appointment that afternoon, so I would need to leave an hour early. He didn't have a problem with it. 

I made it to my appointment with my lawyer. We talked about what I wanted out of the divorce and the reasons for it. I got home at about the same time I normally did. I spent another evening with Lilly and her Algebra book. Lilly deserted me after an hour though because she was going to have dinner at a friend's house. 

"Well there are only the two of us here now," said Dahlia. "Do you think we can talk about this like adults?"

"We have nothing to talk about," I said. 

"Grant we have everything to talk about," she said. "You have to let me explain. I made a mistake. I should never..."

"You should never have married me," I said. "I agree with you on that. So all we have to do is fix it." 

"Grant, what are you talking about?" she asked. "That isn't what I was going to say at all. I love you, Grant. We..."

"There is no 'WE,'" I yelled. I had never raised my voice to her in all the time that we'd been together. I stopped talking and just looked at her. 

"Dahlia, look," I said. "I just need some time. Right now, I'm in a lot of pain. I'm confused. I'm hurt. I just need some space. I only want to spend a few days with my girls and my cars and get my head on straight."

"Trust me, I know how you..." she began. 

"You know how I what?" I snapped. "Feel? Were you about to claim that you know how I feel? You don't Dahlia. I've never lied to you so you don't know. At no time have I ever gone out of town and fucked some other woman, so you don't know. I've never risked your life by giving you an STD, so Dahlia, you truly don't know how I feel, and you never could."

Dahlia just started crying. I went into the living room to watch TV. Dahlia went up and went to bed. Lilly came home at about nine p.m. Rose was in by eleven. I got a blanket and settled on the sofa. At about midnight, Dahlia came and got me. 

"Grant, are you coming to bed?" she asked. 

"Nope," I said. "I thought I'd sleep here."

"Do you really want to make the girls worry about this before they need to?" she asked. I thought about it and decided that she was right. I showered and got into bed. I moved as far away from her as I could. 

During the night, our bodies drifted near each other. And I awoke with my arms around her. I had one hand on her left breast, and the other was nestled on the curly hairs between her legs. 

When I realized what I was doing, I moved away from her so quickly it seemed as if I was shot out of a canon. 

"You didn't have to move, Grant," she said in the darkness. 

"I've already got my quota of VD," I said through gritted teeth. 

"See if you're still feeling that way after your anger fades," she said. "In all the years that we've been together, I have never refused you sex. In a few weeks when we're clean, you'll be all over me." 

"From what I've seen lately, I'm not getting anything that you aren't willing to give to other men, so it's really not that special. It was only exceptional, when I thought that it was all mine. And in a few weeks we'll be divorced," I said. I could have been nicer about it, but I was embarrassed again about my showing any weakness. I was upset that my body had accepted Dahlia back so easily, when my mind hated her. 

I tried to get back to sleep but all I could hear was the sound of her crying next to me. I had loved her for so long that her pain touched me. I had to do something to help her. 

"Dahlia, calm down," I said. "I promise; we'll talk about this. I just need some time."

She scooted over next to me, and I put my arm around her. "I ... I ... I don't understand what we have to even talk about," she sobbed. "I made a mistake. I admitted it. Why can't we just move on with our lives?"

I sat up in bed then and moved away from her. 

As I started to leave the room, she suddenly jumped up. "What?" she asked. "What the hell did I do now?" She grabbed my arm to prevent me from leaving.

"Grant, we were doing fine," she said. "It felt good to have you holding me. Why did you stop?"

"Did you ever once think about me in any of this?" I asked angrily. "It felt good to you for me to hold you. You think that we should just forget about everything that happened and merely move on. Does it matter what I think about any of this?" 

She just looked at me as if she was going to cry again. "I told you once, Dahlia, I needed some time to process this and begin to get over my anger. You haven't even told me what happened or how yet. Once I know all the details, my idea of moving on and yours may not be the same thing," I said.

"Grant, moving on means you forgive me, and we put all this behind us," she said. 

"Dahlia, you slept with another man; you gave me a STD, and you kept this from me until I went to the doctor's office. You endangered my life, and I still have no idea why you did any of this," I said. "We'll talk about this after I sort my feelings out. You got to decide what you did. You got to decide why you did and who you did it with. I'll decide when or even "IF," I feel like talking about it. Maybe moving on for me means a divorce and moving on after it."




Too Close for Comfort B



She stood there with a shocked look on her face as I headed for the living room and the sofa. 

Over the next few days, we stayed away from each other. I often caught her staring at me, but she gave me my space. There were a few times when I knew she wanted to say something, but she held her tongue.

Finally, a little over a month since she'd been home, she came to talk to me just before I went to bed. 

"Grant, I need to talk to you," she said. "The girls have been asking me what's going on with us. They've noticed that we don't even talk any more. I know that you said you needed time, but the longer this takes, the more it's tearing our family apart." She hesitated for a moment. And then threw in. "Grant, I miss you. I feel like my life is falling apart. We don't do anything together anymore."

I tried to compose myself, every time I saw her, all I felt was anger. I felt as if I had been betrayed in the worst possible way. I no longer trusted her or anyone else, except my girls. I felt like Dahlia betraying me, as close as we had been, meant that anyone could do the same.

"Grant; we've both been cleared of any STDs. I have one more doctor's visit tonight. I think you should start sleeping in our bed again. I also think that we should look into getting some counseling," she said. 

"There you go thinking that everything should be the way you want it," I said. 

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who was angry. "At least I'm trying to do something to fix things between us," she hissed. "You aren't doing anything at all. You're just sitting there licking your wounds and whining. God damn it Grant. I'm human. I made a mistake. I had sex with some other men. It isn't the end of the world. Get over it."

"Did you say SOME OTHER MEN?" I asked calmly. Her eyes got huge as she realized what she had just said. I could see her face change. I could almost hear the wheels in her head turning.

"Grant, it really isn't what you think," she said. "Can you just be a fucking adult about this? Instead of sulking like a little kid, be a man about this."

"You seem to know much more about men than I ever expected," I said. "How would a man handle this?"

"A man would reclaim his woman," she said. "He'd do whatever he had to. He'd beat my ass to make sure I never even thought about it again. And then he'd take me upstairs and fuck the shit out of me, to show me that he was better than the other guys were. It was only sex, Grant. I didn't even like it. It wouldn't take much effort on your part to..."

That was when I exploded. "So that's what you think I should do, huh?" I yelled. "The first thing that's wrong with your solution is that no real man would ever hit a woman; no matter what she did. So your ass beating which was really only to make you feel less guilty about cheating on me isn't going to happen." I was screaming so loudly and so out of control that spittle covered my lips as I spoke. 

Dahlia actually shrank back against my anger. 

"Then there's the fact that you betrayed me, not once but multiple times. There's a name for women who go out and fuck lots of men," I said. "I think they call them sluts." Her eyes filled with tears, and she started crying, but I wasn't finished. 

"As far as taking you upstairs ... you've already given me one STD. I don't see me ever getting between your diseased thighs again in life." I looked her straight in the eye and tried to calm down. I took several deep breaths and began again in a calmer tone. 

"Dahlia, since the day that we met, you and I have had an extremely strong connection. I've always thought of it as a strength; however, in this case, it's become a weakness. I loved you so much that this just cuts me too deeply. I don't think I can get over this. I don't think counseling can help us. I don't see a future for us together."

"Of course we have a future," she cried. "Grant you're the only man I've ever loved. You just have to let me help you get over this. I'll do whatever it takes."

* * * * * *

Dahlia

My life was rapidly spiraling out of control. I was apparently a terrible manager. My boss had spoken to me once already, and I discovered that they had made a mistake. My promotion had been mostly based on work that Grant, and I had done together. His contribution was the bones of the reports. He had supplied the facts, the details, the data crunching, and the numbers. My contribution had been more along the lines of brightening up the reports to make them colorful and more artistic. I made the reports easier to read, but without Grant, there really were no reports.

There was also the fact that my easy-breezy way of handling people led to them being less productive. I felt as if I was beset from all sides. The employees, who were formerly my friends, now resented me because they thought they could do a better job of managing the department than I could. With our department ratings slipping at a rapid pace, the chance for bonuses was dwindling, and they blamed me.

On the other hand, my boss was putting more pressure on me too. "When I first spoke to Grant about this promotion, I was unsure about it," he said. "I was actually going to think about bringing another manager over to your department when Grant asked for his transfer and..."

"Grant ASKED to be transferred?" I said. 

"Yes he did," he said. "Anyway, Dahlia, you need to step up your game, or I'll be forced to bring in someone else."

So my job was falling apart. My husband wanted nothing to do with me, and I had just found out the worst news of my life. Under previous circumstances, it had been the best thing that had ever happened to me. However, this time it meant the end of everything. I went to the doctor's office the other day as I'd told Grant to get my clearance from the STDs I'd brought back from Jamaica and found out that I was pregnant. From the doctor's estimated conception date, it had been during the time that I was in Jamaica. There was no way possible for Grant to be the father. 

I headed for home that evening with more emotions than I could hope to conquer all running around in my head. In the very brief and extremely heated conversation that Grant and I had; he had pointed out a lot of things that I had never thought about. I had viewed what had happened to me just as that, as something that had happened to ME. I had never considered how Grant would feel about it. I guess a lot of that had been because I had been so determined to do anything possible to make sure that he didn't find out. 

Now that it was all over, and I saw things with a clearer head, I realize that more than anything, I should have gone back to the hotel with Glenda. Barring that, when I first woke up after getting drunk and getting taken advantage of by Dennis on the beach, I should have gone home then. 

I'm pretty sure that if I explained how things had happened up to that point; Grant, would have been very angry with me, but he would have realized that it wasn't my fault and he could have forgiven me. It wouldn't have been easy, but we'd have made it through. 

There was no way that I could tell him that the second time when Dennis came to my room, there was no coercion involved. There was only curiosity. My body just wanted to know what it felt like to have sex with someone other than Grant. I guess I figured that it had already happened once, and I had been so out of it that I didn't remember any of it, so a second round couldn't make things any worse. I never thought that any of it would ever come out. 

The result of that was that I got none of the excitement, the love, and closeness that I got from sex with Grant. Dennis was bigger, and I felt fuller. I felt as if he was about to split me open, but the overwhelming pleasure of being slowly and lovingly moved towards an orgasm was ... missing. And the emotional component was not only lacking; it was vacant. 

And for me, one of the best parts of sex wasn't the drive for an orgasm; it was the cuddling and kissing afterwards. I lived for those moments when we were both spent that Grant wrapped his arms around me and refused to let me go. It was as if he was declaring that I was his property and nothing, and no one would ever take me from him. 

I started crying when I thought about that. How could I have ever done anything to risk that? I missed the bond that Grant and I had always shared more than anything else. How could I screw up this badly with a man who could almost feel my thoughts? 

Then suddenly I realized that I was in more trouble than I had ever imagined. Grant knew me more intimately than anyone else in my life. He knew me better than my own mother. Grant actually knew me well enough to know when my periods were starting. He had known me so well that the first night when I got back and tried to have sex with him, he'd been able to tell that there was something different. My lies hadn't convinced him. So when he discovered the STD, he had pulled away from me totally.

I think that he began pulling away from me that first night. He didn't even try to wake me up to go out and run with him that initial morning back. As I've mentioned I never liked running. I hate it. Nevertheless, I missed the time with Grant. It was so beautiful, especially in the spring or the fall, jogging along the nearby river or through the woods. It was always a great time for just the two of us to be together. He hadn't taken me or even asked about me going with him even once since I got back.

Grant always told me that regular exercise kept you healthy and extended your quality of life. He couldn't actually prove that it made you live longer, but he believed it. I wondered if his not asking me to go anymore meant that he no longer cared about my health.

The one thing I did know was that I needed to do something that I never thought I would ever consider. I pulled over to the side of the road and pulled out my phone. I made two calls. The first was to order a pizza for dinner that evening. The second was to set up an appointment at the local clinic.

When I walked into the house, with the two pizza boxes, my daughter ... let's face it, she was more her daddy's daughter than anything else, Lilly, practically attacked me. She took the boxes and ran through the house screaming, "Dad, pizza!"

I suppose I expected for Grant to come back, with Lilly in tow and take me in his arms, the way he always did. Who was I kidding; Grant hadn't once come out to greet me or welcome me home since this all started. I sat down at the kitchen table to compose my face and try to get my mood straight. 

Surprisingly enough, I heard them coming towards me. "Daddy," whined Lilly. "Why can't we just eat the pizza while we do my Math?" 

"Lill, Honey, you do that," he said. "You can start without me. Do all the problems that you can do without help and I'll come and help you do the others when your mom and I are done talking, okay?"

"Daddy you and Mom spend too much time together," whined Lilly. She obviously hadn't noticed that her dad and I barely have spoken lately. "You do understand that I'm fourteen, right?" she asked. "You know that in only four short years, I'll be off to college and heading out to start my life after that. You'll have the rest of your life to spend with Mom. But you only have four years with me."

"Okay, Lill, you're right," he said. He leaned over and hugged her. He squeezed her so tightly that she could barely breathe. Her smile only broadened until he let her go. I was immediately jealous of my own daughter.

"I'll be waiting for you, Daddy," she said as she turned and grabbed one of the pizza boxes and disappeared up the stairs. 

"Grant," I began. 

"I already know," he said. "You want to talk ... again; even after the argument we ended up having yesterday." As he said it, he was looking me over. The look on his face said it all. He knew there was something going on with me. The confusion on his face said that he didn't know what was wrong, but he knew there was something. I forced myself to keep my mind blank, and my face composed. 

"Grant, Honey..." I began. He winced when I called him Honey. "I know this is going to be painful for both of us, but we need to talk." He just nodded and sat down at the table. 

I took the Pizza box that Lilly had left and put it on the table between us. I got plates out, and poured a glass of wine for myself and got a Dos Equis Amber for Grant. Then I proceeded to tear my husband's heart apart. 

I told him the whole story. I didn't leave out anything. I even told him about how the second time I had been curious about the way it would feel, but there had been no alcohol or force used. I simply gave myself to another man. I told him about how I had been blackmailed into what had happened over the next few nights. I told him the truth that there had been nine or ten different men, and I had sex a total of fourteen times. 

I told him how much I regretted all of it and how I would never do anything like that again. I told him how much I treasured every moment we were together, and how I knew that I had ruined what we had, but that I loved him enough to take whatever he needed to make him feel better about what had happened. I was willing to do whatever it took to rebuild his trust and start over again. I would do anything it took to put us back together once more. I was about to say something else when I noticed that Grant was crying. 

He wasn't sobbing or whining the way a woman does, but there were tears on the corners of his eyes and on his cheeks. He opened the pizza box. I think he did it more as a play for time than any hunger he might have had. He looked at the pizza and noticed that as usual I had bought two different types. Lilly had taken the pizza that Grant and she preferred. The two of them loved their pizza with nothing but cheese, tomato sauce and a lot of different meats. Rose and I liked our pizza in a unusual way. We were very experimental and wanted to try something different every time. We loved large varieties of peppers and even fruit on our pizza. 

Grant took one look at the pizza and closed the box. He took a big swig of his beer and looked away from me. 

"I guess I should have said something," he said. "I guess this is as much my fault as yours. So now we both have to live with the fallout." He got up and walked away from the table.

I smiled for the first time in days, although I was confused. 

As he returned, I was brimming with questions. However, I was so happy I didn't, know what to do. 

"Grant, Sweetheart, what did you mean this was your fault too?" I asked. In my mind, I saw myself trying to seduce him again that evening but getting a very different result. I decided against it. I needed to give him a little bit more time because I was sure that Grant would somehow sense my pregnancy if we got close enough. He had known before I told him when I was pregnant with Lilly.

I also had no idea how long I would have to abstain after the procedure the next morning. I had tons of questions for him. I wanted to know why he had transferred out of my department. I would have had no problem with him being named the manager. Didn't he realize that no matter which one of us got the promotion and the raise that the money would still be there for our family? As I thought about it, it made much more sense for him to be the manager and for me to work for him. Grant had known though that I had wanted that position and as usual had let me have it.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't call me that," he said. His voice was devoid of any emotion. "What I meant was that I never wanted you to go on that stupid trip. It felt to me as if my heart was being torn out. I never wanted us to be apart. However, I didn't say anything, because I knew that you wanted it so much." 

His words echoed in my mind. Both Glenda and Mary expressed the same thought to me on the plane and in Jamaica. They had both told me that Grant looked awful before we left. They had wondered how I could have left someone who clearly loved me that much. I now wondered the same thing myself. Even so, at least we were back on the trail to making things better.

Grant's next move both surprised and shocked me. It wasn't a very flashy or flamboyant move, but it was devastating just the same. It wasn't a powerful or rapid-fire move, and it wasn't violent, but it hurt me even more than physical pain would have. In fact, I would have preferred for Grant to slap the shit out of me and tell me not to ever do anything like that again.

All he did was to pull out a stack of papers and place them softly and quietly on the table in front of me. He placed them down so carefully and gently that there was no sound made by them hitting the table. 

Even without reading the title of the thin stack of papers I knew what they were and what they meant. 

"Dahlia," he began. It was then that I noticed that he hadn't called me "Dahl," his nickname for me, ever since I got back. He hadn't used my full name, unless he was angry at me since we got together. 

"I think we need to re-evaluate things between us," he said softly. "Maybe we've grown apart." 

I stared at the neatly stack of papers in front of me as if it was a loaded gun. In some ways, it was very similar. A gun might've snuffed out my life, but these papers would be the end my marriage. It was pretty much the same thing.

I began to sweat and at the same time; I felt as if someone had kicked me in the stomach. I was having difficulty breathing, and my vision blurred. 

At the same time, I was sure that Grant was on the verge of tears. He looked shaky on his feet, and he grabbed the edge of the table for support. He sat back down in his chair. Neither of us really knew what to say.

After what seemed like forever, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Grant, I won't do this," I said. "I will not allow you to end my marriage. I will not allow you to ruin our family. I will not even allow you to move out of this house. We are going to fix this. No matter what it..."

"I'm not moving out," he said. "You are; I'm not the one who threw our marriage on the scrap heap. That was you. I'm not the one who cheated and brought home a disease, so why should I move out?"

"You shouldn't," I said. "And I'm not leaving, either."

"Get a lawyer, Dahlia,' he said. "We'll work our differences out in court."

"We don't have any God damned differences," I said angrily. 

"I can think of one," he said. "One of us thinks that their marriage vows don't mean anything. One of us thinks that breaking those vows is something that can be glossed over and forgotten about."

"Well there's another one," I spat. "One of us doesn't love the other one enough to forgive her when she makes a mistake."

"One of us doesn't know the difference between a mistake and a choice," he spat. "A mistake is something that happens inadvertently, or because you weren't careful. Letting multiple men fuck you on separate occasions was a choice. Maybe ... I'm not even sure myself; but we might have been able to get past the first one because you were drunk, Dahlia. That one, although you shouldn't have allowed yourself to be in that position, wasn't your fault. But all the others were; you made an informed choice. So now you have to live with the consequences of that choice."

"Thank you so much for clarifying what a God damned choice is, Grant," I screamed. "I've always been pro choice. I choose not to give up my husband. I choose ... not to break up my family. I choose not to end my marriage. I choose not to break my daughters' hearts. I choose not to ruin my life. I choose to work things out."

"Unfortunately, unlike the choice of what to do with your body that you recently exercised, some choices are not yours to make alone," he said quietly. Then he left me sitting there and went up to help Lilly with her math. 




Too Close for Comfort



My wife's feet were firmly planted on the edge of the table enabling her to raise her lower torso to meet the furious thrusts of my fingers. Carol started to quiver and convulse, I could tell even with my limited experience this was gonna be a gusher.

"Oooh god," she moaned, as her muscles twitched. Her breathing was shallow and ragged as she exploded.

It may have been selfish of me but I rolled Carol to her stomach before she could catch her breath. I plunged my neglected cock into her in one stroke. Pulling all the way out, I put everything I had into the next, and the next, and the next. Carol was in another world, muttering to herself. She rarely if ever swore but the one word I understood was "fuck" so I did.

Debbie had crawled down the table on her knees to where the action was. She had her head right down in the thick of things so to speak. That was probably my fault, I was the one that insisted she stay. Her face took a wicked gleam as she rose and discarded her dress. Debbie seemed to have no shame as she started to rub her own pussy while she watched me fuck the hell out of my wife.

I resisted the urge to reach for Deb's massive tits and instead used my hands to grab Carol's waist. I thrust even harder and deeper, if that were possible. Feeling Carol's cunt squeezing the life out of my cock was exhilarating and brought me closer the edge. Debbie was so close, I swore I could feel her hot breath on my cock each time I withdrew. 

Not knowing where or how the idea came to me, I knew the timing would have to be perfect. Carol's climax started in waves, I held on to my own as long as possible. Just one more stroke, one last thrust. Carol screamed in ecstasy as her third orgasm washed over her. I couldn't hold back any more, it was now or never.

As if it had been planned from the start, I pulled out in the nick of time and plastered Debbie right between the eyes. The second shot was a glancing blow to her cheek, the bulk of which landed on her shoulder. The third and fourth spurts were not as powerful but the aim was dead on. Right into her open mouth, bulls-eye. The utter shock and humiliation on her dripping face was priceless.

My work was done. Carol lay drenched in sweat, recovering from being taken for a long overdue hard ride. Her friend, Deb, was left frustrated and covered in the gooey result of said hard ride. Me, well, I went upstairs for a well-earned cold beer.

I sat naked at the table enjoying my Homo-Sapien status again, the clothes I'd been wearing were ripped to shreds and useless. "What comes next?" I thought. I was not proud of what I'd done but conversely I was full of myself for the way I had done it. 

It's something that should have happened a long time ago. I should have stood up to Carol and shown her what she'd been missing all along. If I read her body language correctly, she'd had as good a time as I had. I was sorry though, I regretted the way it had all happened. I knew Carol was going to be pissed for finding me in a compromising situation with Debbie.

Deb was the first to come up from the basement. I calmly sat and drank my beer. She had her dress on but I could clearly make out the stains where she had used it to wipe my cum off her face. I handed my beer to her and she took a drink, a kind of peace offering in a strange way.

She reached for me, "Bill," she said expectantly.

Shaking my head, I calmly said, "Go home Deb."

Carol was still in the basement, I debated the pros and cons of going back down there. Fuck it, I came to the conclusion that what ever was going to happen it could wait until tomorrow so I climbed the stairs to sleep in my own bed for perhaps the last time. There was no way of knowing how Carol was going to react.

I wasn't asleep when my wife came to bed but I pretended to be. She made hardly any noise at all and slipped into the bed quietly as not to disturb me. That could be a good sign as she usually hits about an eight on the Richter scale when she gets into bed. On the other hand, it was out of the norm. She's never considered not disturbing me before. 

Usually I sleep on my right side, facing her. I faced away for some odd reason that even I didn't have an answer to, an omen perhaps. Before I drifted off to sleep, her hand gently stroked my arm. It comforted me to know she wasn't going to plant her foot in the middle of my back and kick me onto the floor.

The morning brought a new day and as I stood back reviewing my actions of the night before, I began to wonder to myself who I really was.

Normally when Carol and I have had arguments in the past, they never amounted to more than a few angry words here and there. We've always been able to agree on pretty much everything in our day to day life except sex. So even though I wanted a more active sex life than she did, I was never willing to force her, up until the previous night that is. How Carol was going to react concerned me but the more important thing was, would this be the end of an otherwise strong marriage? I'd come as close as possible to committing adultery, if she had arrived ten seconds later... Well, you all know what would have happened.

Let's face it, I had cheated on Carol. The only part that had not happened was the actual penetration and that was only because my dick was not long enough to cover the twelve-foot span between us. A silly thought to be sure but what if Debbie had been standing next to me? Yeah, and let's not forget what I'd done after that. How do you justify forcing your wife to have sex... and in front of an audience no less? I'd compromised Carol's trust and that was the hardest thing to deal with. 

Carol was in the kitchen when I worked up the nerve to face the music. It was just like the old joke about how you keep an idiot in suspense... you know, the silent treatment, and it was killing me. 

We'd been in the same room for at least five minutes before she spoke, "Bill, could we talk?"

"Uh, sure, what's on your mind?" as if I didn't already know.

"Well about last night," she paused.

I knew it was coming but flinched none the less.

"It was very um, what's the word..."

"Unforgivable?" I interjected.

"No... more like exciting. I can't quite put my finger on it but the way you took charge, my god Bill, I've never seen you act like that before," she explained.

I was prepared for a lot of things right then, even up to and including a frying pan to the back of my head, but this, this I hadn't counted on, "So... so you're not angry?"

"Angry? My lord no Bill. You told me many times what Debbie was up to but I never took you seriously. It's her I'm angry with. I saw how that shameless bitch tortured you."

"You saw all of it?" I wondered.

"I did."

I scratched my head, "And.. and you, let me get this part straight, you were excited you say?"

She turned a bright shade of red as she blushed, "I'm sorry Bill, you must think I'm shameless but yes, the way you made love to me was indescribable."

I took her in my arms, "Sweetheart, I don't think that way at all. I think you're wonderful and more desirable than ever."

We embraced silently for a few minutes and just as I'd thought that things went too smoothly, she hit me with the old no win question every man dreads.

"Bill, do you think Debbie is prettier than me?"

"Jeez Carol, where did that come from? Of course I don't."

Fuck, how did we get around to this? No matter how I answered she wouldn't believe me.

"But her tits are bigger..."

"Yeah, and her eyes are too far apart," I exclaimed.

"And she has a better ass..."

"I bet her feet stink too. Carol, it's you that I want."

"But last night... Debbie... you never ripped off your clothes for me before," she mewed.

"You're right, I haven't, but don't think for one minute that I wouldn't have. Carol, Honey, what happened last night it was... shit, I don't know what it was. I couldn't take the teasing anymore but it had nothing to do with me wanting her more than you."

She looked up into my eyes but I could see that she really didn't believe what I was telling her. I'd never seen Carol so insecure around me before. 

A wise old man once said that talk doesn't cook rice. I swept her up in my arms and to her unconvincing protest, carried her to our marital bed. This time, I ruined her clothes, I literally ripped them from her body. 

Carol seemed more convinced and was giggling now. There were still things, lots of them, that she hadn't experienced but she was gonna. 

When I crawled onto to the bed and positioned myself in the sixty-nine configuration she stopped giggling. I buried my head between her legs and went right at it. Carol, bless her heart, had no idea what to do next so I showed her. It took a few tries to get her to take my dick into her mouth but she caught on and learned quickly.

It was mid morning and the sun was shinning brightly through the window. It seemed like a freaking miracle, just yesterday, I would have never dreamed we would be doing this. We carried on playfully for most of the morning.

When neither of us could go any further, Carol cuddled peacefully in my arms. 

"See, I didn't need Debbie's help," I joked.

"You made your point big guy," she cooed.

***

So there you have it. The whole nine yards, show's over. Bill's happy, Carol's happy but you're not, right? Let me guess, you want to know what happened with Mike and Debbie. All right, here's the way that went but you have to promise not tell Mike.

***

Later that same evening, Carol and I were snuggling quietly on the couch. While I couldn't have asked for a sweeter result to my mental lapse, something nagged at me.

"Sweetheart, has Debbie ever talked to you about her relationship with Mike?" I asked.

She pulled away, "Still thinking about Debbie huh?"

"No, not like that. Honey, I was wandering why she always has to act like such a slut around me. What's it going to take to make it stop."

Carol looked relieved, "I'm not positive but I'd say she's starved for attention."

That made perfect sense, Mike wasn't attentive at all. I can't ever remember a time when we were all together that he ever showed the slightest concern for her.

Carol continued, "Baby, if you'd like, I'll tell her not to come over any more." 

After a moments thought, "No, that's really not fair to either one of you, you've been friends for a long time. I'll just have to be more careful around her."

As if thinking aloud, "If there were just something we could do to get Mike off that damn couch and give her what she needs," she muttered.

A light bulb went on in my head, "You know, I might just have the solution. Mike said it himself, as long as she comes home to him he doesn't worry about what she does."

"Are you suggesting that Debbie leave him?"

"No, nothing that drastic, but if we can figure out a way to make him jealous enough..."

Carol and I talked about what we could do. The plan would require Debbie to go along with it but Carol was quite sure that she'd be happy to help in any way.

When I breezed in from work the next afternoon, Debbie was already there and the two girls were already plotting. They quickly brought me up to speed about what they'd already discussed. Debbie expressed some concern about the plan back firing but as I pointed out, at least Mike would sit up and take notice.

Debbie didn't like the first part of the plan at all, no sir, not one little bit. For what we had in mind to work, she'd have to cut Mike off. That would mean no sex of any kind for him. She, from what she told us, needed "relief" and it would be difficult for her. I offered to buy her a battery operated boy friend and Carol was relieved that I hadn't offered anything else.

I was serious about the offer and stopped by the Sexpo-Mart the next day during lunch hour. I'll admit that I had ulterior motives but the first purchase was for Debbie. I had a hell of a time deciding from the hundreds of different dildo choices. Never in my wildest imagination would I have conceived of some of the shapes, sizes and colors. I ended up with what the clerk told me it was by far the biggest seller. I couldn't help but wonder if Sexpo-Mart would see more business from me in the future.

When I presented it to her later, it was the first time I had made her blush, not the other way round. Both the girls had thought I was kidding the night before, but Debbie, although obviously embarrassed, accepted the gift. Carol as I'd expected, was a bit jealous not receiving a gift of her own. I'd anticipated and was rewarded with kisses when I presented a wrapped box to her. The lingerie was probably more for me than her but she would be the beneficiary as well. Now I could burn those fucking flannel pajamas.

By the third or forth day, Debbie was spending a good bit of time in our guestroom with the "thing", as she called it. She didn't want Mike to catch her, she was worried how to explain having an affair with a vibrator. Deb had confided that she and Mike were used to a very active love life. I commiserated with her, I know from previous experience what it's like to go without so I had no complaints about her frequent visits.

I saw Mike quite a bit more than usual, it was easy to see he had something he wanted to ask me. He kept quiet though and watched a little closer than he normally did. It wasn't until Saturday that dam burst, he casually walked into the garage while I was working on my weed whacker.

"Bill, I'm worried about Debbie," he started.

"How's that, Buddy?"

"I think she might be having an affair."

"Really, what makes you think that?"

"Well, normally she's horny most of the time but we haven't had sex in almost a week now."

"Has she said anything, is she pissed at you for something?" I quizzed.

"I don't think so, I mean, she acts like she always does except the screwing part," he reasoned.

"Shit Mike, I wouldn't worry about it. She's probably just having her period, you know," I said hopefully. 

"Yeah, you're probably right."

We had dinner with the neighbors that night, Carol and I, Deb and Mike, and another couple from across the street Suzy and Pete. We gathered at Mike and Deb's at around six for a backyard bar-b-cue. 

From the earlier conversation, it was out in the open that Mike was more than a bit frustrated. He seemed ill at ease, which was so unlike the Mike we all knew. Normally at dinner parties like this, he would be drinking and chatting but he was watching Debbie with a suspicious eye and he sipped a bottle of water rather than his regular six-fingers of scotch.

Before the party we'd talked to Suzy. It seemed prudent to get her into the loop so she didn't claw Debbie's eyes out. Pete had no idea, that way his reactions would be real and more believable. Suzy could fill him in later if he got the wrong idea.

Debbie poured on the coal, she pampered me way beyond the norm and she fawned over Pete as well. Carol tried to engage Mike in some light conversation but his mind was elsewhere. He was studying the interaction between his wife and I a lot closer than ever.

When dinner was served, Deb brought me a T-bone big enough to feed an army. It was magnificent, juicy rare, just the way Mike liked it. The steak she sat in front of Mike looked like jerky and his jaw dropped as Pete was served the one similar to mine. 

About halfway through the meal Debbie got up and refilled all the wineglasses. She stood beside me when she'd finished. 

"How's your steak Bill," she purred.

For Mike's benefit, I ran my hand leisurely along the back of Deb's bare leg, "It's marvelous, I don't remember ever having better," I commented.

She looked down with adoring eyes, "Well sweetie, if you want anything else just say the word."

My hand was under her skirt now, "I'll keep that in mind," I winked.

The tension was getting thick now. Mike looked like a zit about to explode. Pete was taking it all in with a shit eating grin. I took every liberty possible with Deb but only when we were in range of Mike. 

Pete had been clued in by now, Suzy laid it out for him after dinner. He was the one that came up with the idea that finally set Mike's fuse ablaze, "You know Mike, Suzy and I are into mild swapping and I wouldn't mind getting a crack at Deb. How about it Mike?" Pete prodded, "Looks like Bill could use a little help don't you think?"

Mike looked over and Deb was whispering into my ear. That did it, I never saw a fat guy move so fast, Mike told me he needed my advise about something in private but he didn't say what.

When we were out of earshot of the others, "You... you... keep your hands off my wife," Mike stuttered.

"Whoa there Chubby," I threw in to humiliate him further.

Mike actually looked down at his bulging waistline.

"If you'll recall, I asked you many times to put a stop to Debbie's flirting. What were the words you used? Enjoy the ride, if I remember correctly. So don't you even come crying to me if you can't get the job done." I warned.

"But... but I love her. Please Bill don't take her away from me," he begged.

"Hey don't blame me, this is your fault. I warned you a hundred times and you sat on your couch and let it happen. Just look at you, if you were Deb, would you fuck you?"

That brought tears to his eyes and I can't stand to see a grown man cry, "Mike, I don't know why but I'm going to help you. Now the first thing you're gonna do is stop acting like a fucking baby, be a man and stop crying."

I instructed him to meet me outside his house a seven the next morning and to wear sweats and running shoes. To my total surprise he was there. I really wondered what the fuck I had got myself into but I could stand to shed a few pounds too. Mike was done in after only a few hundred yards. I slowed the pace to a walk and pressed him forward for a couple of miles. 

Debbie was beside herself at what I was doing for her husband. She'd been after Mike to lose weight for years. I asked her to put him on a strict diet, she gladly agreed. To Mike's credit he was willing to do anything to get his wife back and stuck to the diet and exercise regimen. 

Mike was one miserable son of a bitch though. Here he was following orders from the guy he thought was banging his wife on a regular basis. Neither Deb nor I let him think differently, she was still a frequent flyer in our spare room. 

On one of our early morning runs he finally asked, "Bill, you're not going to give her up after all of this are you? You're just doing this to torture me."

I could see he was ready to quit and throw in the towel so I pressed the point, "Why should I? You all but forced her on me."

"But you don't love her like I do, I'm going through hell for her," he whined.

"Love, huh, is that what you call it? Why don't you just admit it you lazy asshole, she's nothing more to you than she is to me, a piece of ass."

"NO! That's not true. I love Debbie, she means the world to me."

"Then show her not me. When was the last time you bothered to tell her how you felt? Don't you think she deserves a little attention? If you treated her with half the love you do that fucking couch of yours, none of this would ever have happened. The fact that she hasn't already left your sorry ass means she's willing to fight for her marriage. The real question is Mike, are you?"

From that moment forward, Mike changed. He took on a new determined attitude. He was losing his gut petty fast but the fictional affair between his wife and I continued. 

On my end, I was having the time of my life. Carol's sexual awakening had brought a new joy into our lives. We had an expanded relationship beyond what we'd ever dreamed. We were like newlyweds discovering each other for the first time.

The new Mike had started to pull his head out of his ass. He started at square one and was beginning to see the light. Although they continued to live in the same house, he began to court her all over again. They dated the way a couple would before marriage. His new found attitude had him well on his way to winning back his wife that he had never really lost. Mike was finally showing Debbie the love that he misplaced. 




Too Close for Comfort



It took almost three months but Mike and I were jogging close to three miles a day. We didn't always talk but he was getting reticent, like he had something to say and couldn't quite spit it out.

Finally, "Bill, I'm not asking, I'm telling you that your affair with Debbie is over," he spoke determinedly.

"Alright," I replied.

He was shocked, "That's it? Alright?"

"Hey, she's your wife."

"No fight? Just like that?" he quizzed.

"Yep, just like that. The only woman that I'd be willing to fight over is my Carol."

I'd taken him by surprise. Mike was expecting at least an argument from me but it wasn't happening. I was glad this subterfuge was finally coming to an end. Mike had finally stood his ground and "taken" his wife away from me. As happy as I was, it didn't hold a candle to the glee that Debbie felt. She was overjoyed at the change in her husband and was giddy at the prospect of making love to him again.

She was telling Carol all about their big night as I came home the next evening. Mike had taken Debbie to a posh restaurant, a candlelit supper, fine wine, the whole smear and I was taking mental notes. While Deb filled Carol in on the more intimate details of their evening, I was on the phone making reservations at the best eating establishment in town, I thought of it as a preemptive strike. One can never be too prepared where women are concerned. I would see to it that Carol didn't feel slighted after hearing about Debbie's evening of pleasure.

Debbie had tears of joy in her eyes when she thanked me with a modest kiss on the cheek. I would have preferred a handshake but Carol understood and let it pass.

Well there ends the tale, except to say that Mike continues to lose weight and has never, and I mean never, taken his wife for granted again. 

Oh and maybe you're wandering about Carol and I. Well, our sex life is dwindling and I've started to remodel again. I'm working on the room where Debbie wore out the "thing". It seems that Carol and I will be needing the space for a nursery. She assures me that after the baby arrives and she is able again, our sex life will be better than ever. Carol has already started a list of new places and positions she wants us to try.

Ain't life funny, two couples so out of whack and yet they were made right by accident. A brush with stupidity on my part, a brain fart if you will. I look back now and marvel at the way it all turned out. One never knows, do one? 

"CAROL! Did you see all these dead batteries under the bed?"