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The Fine

By: charms75



"Got five hundred bucks to pay the fine?"

The sudden musical voice brought me out of my reverie. I looked up right into the laughing eyes of a beautiful police woman. For a minute there, I did not understand. Then comprehension struck me as I looked at my cigarette. Smoking is prohibited in public places and here I am sitting in a small tea shop smoking. 

I had come to this town earlier in the evening to hand over some important papers to a client. He was a older man and his wife the lady was very kind and forced me to stay for dinner. I had not smoked for a long time respecting their age and not wanting to smoke in front of them and offend them.

When I came out of their place I looked for a place and found this small tea shop. No one was there and I was alone. I had a hot cup of strong tea and then lit a cigarette. My mind was elsewhere and I did not see this police woman come in. 

Reluctantly I pulled my purse out and counted five hundred rupee bills and offered it to her. To my surprise she was still looking at me. I am not much you see, only five feet tall and slim to boot. Not the kind women looked twice and this lady was young and beautiful. The tight police uniform was not hidding her luscious curves and I had a hell of a time looking into her eyes. It strained to stray towards the two globes that jutted out poking at my face, almost.

Instead of accepting the money and writing out a receipt for it she sat down opposite me.

"You are new here? "

"Yes, I just came here on duty"

"Finished?"

"yes"

I wanted to get this over with and leave. This dame is too damn hot and I was getting uneasy at the wrong places. Also she is too young for my forty plus years and pretty tall too, will be about say 5' 7" and in her early twenties I guessed. 

"Want to save that five hundred?"

I looked at her surprised "What you mean?"

"Come to my place for the night and you don't have to pay up"

" I don't understand," I stammered

She laughed out loud, "Scared, bucko or is it just that you are not man enough?"

That did it. "alright, let us go,"

Outside she started her Honda scooter and I climbed behind her, careful to keep some distance between us. The road was bumpy and she was not slowing down. Several times I bumped onto her as she speeded up. I was relieved when she stopped before an apartment building. 

We went in and up the lift to her apartment in the fourth floor. She smiled sweetly at the lift man who did not notice me at all. He was just goggling at her, open mouthed, kind of. When we entered the apartment, she just locked the door behind us and went in, to her bedroom I think. Almost immediately she came out, threw a lungi (A colourful dhoti) to me and said coolly, "Change into this and use the bathroom on the other side," She gestured with her hand and "Oh, yes, You can smoke all you want," She disappeared again. I was furious and did not like any of this. 

For a while I stood there glaring at the door of her bedroom and then realizing it is not helping, I changed and went into the bathroom. It was a hot day and so I showered and toweling myself up, put on the Lungi again and came out. There was no trace of her. I sat down on the sofa and lit a cigarette. 

Just as I finished my cigarette, the door opened slightly and her face looked out. "Come in here, I got some thing to show you,"

Anger welling up inside me, I slowly got up and went in and then stood stock still gapping. She stood in the middle of the room clad in a skimpy red silk gown that was too low below the neck and too high above the knees. I could see the white bulge of her mounds up there and her long shapely legs down below. She was not letting me guess anything, showing all she had and was smiling teasingly to boot. What is more, the silk gown was hugging her so close that I could even see the nipples pointing. Her lips parted slightly and she bit her lower lip, sensually. I was getting a bulge down there and the lungi is not going to hide it. 

"Like what you see?" she was teasing of course, and then, " That is not what I want to show you bucko, See this bed, I bought it only two days ago. Tell me how you like it?". 

It is a double cot made of expensive Teakwood and the bed was made of feather I guessed, covered with a beautiful red silk bedspread just the same colour as her gown. She sat down on the bed coyly still taunting with her eyes and a vile smile playing on her pouting lips. 

"Come sit down and see how it feels, Bucko,"

Like in a trance I went and sat down my eyes glued to her white bulging mounds and with desperation I held back my itching hands. She moved closer to me a little and then her hands settled right on my bulging hardness. I could hold back no more. "You bitch," I hissed and jumped on her, my hands clutching her almost bare shoulders and pushing her on the bed, I pulled the gown down her shoulders as my lips pressed against her neck just below her ear. I was not heavy and I put all my weight on her as I clawed on her bare skin and my hands cupped her mounds, gently squeezing. My lips now nibbled her ear lobe and she moaned. Still squeezing her mounds, a little harder now I moved my lips against her chubby cheeks searching for her hot mouth. Finding it, I kissed her passionately, my tongue probing between her lips and as she opened them slightly, I slid my tongue in searching for hers. I felt her hands clawing my back but relentlessly, I pulled her gown all the way down still kissing her. 

When or how my lungi came off of me I still do not remember, but I felt my hardness pressing between her legs and I felt the wetness on my thighs. As I moved my mouth down to her mounds to take one of her nipples between my lips my hand slid under the pillow and I felt some thing soft there. Pulling it out I looked at it and found it was a feather. A long one multi-coloured. Peacock feather, I realized. She was moaning under me and her hands were down there now kneading my hardness. Suddenly an idea struck me, what if I used the feather on her? 

I put my left hand under her head gently ruffling her hair and with my right hand I clutched the feather and slowly, touched her chubby cheek with it. She shivered under me and moaned. Slowly and gently I began to move the feather on her cheeks, touching her lips and moving it around it tracing and then onto her neck. Her grip on my hardness tightened and she was almost crying now. With my left hand I held her head firmly and moved the feather slowly on to her now swollen mounds. She let go of my hardness and clutched my shoulders hard. 

Lifting my body a little above her and balancing myself on my knees, I teased her rose buds with the feather, and then patted it. She went mad then and almost screamed. I kept patting her rose buds one after the other gently and when she tried to lift her head to see what was happening. I held her down, recklessly, holding her hair. She cried out but let me hold her head and now I lifted my waist up and positioned myself so the tip of my hardness was between her legs. Still working with the feather I moved my hardness just above her outer lips teasing.

She lifted her hips up desperately to take me in, but I lifted myself higher. She was moaning and whining now as the feather moved about her soft white skin, exploring and touching the spots that aroused her. I had managed to position my hardness just above her love opening and just when she least expected, slid it into her, as hard as I could. She gasped and cried out as my hardness buried deep inside her to the hilt. Balancing my body on my left elbow and my toes I began to thrust into her, slowly at first still teasing her with the feather. 

I now know the spots that tickled her the most and used it to my advantage. She was quivering under me, giggling, moaning and crying all at the same time it seemed. Suddenly I felt her go rigid under me and knowing she is going to scream in ecstasy, I pressed my mouth onto hers and she screamed as her body trembled under me and my fast moving hardness was bathed with her love's nectar. I kept up my tempo as she came letting her screams stifle inside my mouth. When she finished I gave her some breathing time and then began my teasing with the feather once again and thrusting into her as well. 

I let her climax and scream and let loose her love juices three times before I let go my own self, flooding her love channel with my seed. Then I lay on top of her my hands and legs to support my weight, just feeling her softness against me. Both of us were gasping for breath. When at last our breathing became normal, I moved away from her and lay on her side for a while. Then lifting myself onto my elbows I looked at her face. It was serene, fully satiated her eyes closed and a pleased smile playing on her rosy lips, she lay like a happy child. I was still angry inside me, but I kissed her lips lightly thanking her my own way and getting out of the bed went into the bathroom to cleanup. When I came out of the bathroom, I went to the hall without looking at her and began to dress up hastily. 

Just as I finished dressing, I heard her door open.

"Going some place?" She stood there with a towel covering her from her breasts to her thighs. 

"Yes" I said laconically

"Going to sit in the bus station till four in the morning?" she was asking coyly.

"Yes"

"Will you let me speak my mind before you leave?" There was some thing in her voice that made me look up at her and I saw sadness and longing in those eyes which were getting wet with tears. 

Reluctantly I sat down on the sofa and said, "Go ahead,"

She came and sat down opposite me in a chair.

"I am twenty-four, have two sisters and three brothers all younger than me depending on my pay. I can't dream of getting married for how long I do not know. My father is a drunk, mother a house wife," She paused here and looked at me, tears flooding down. When I said nothing, she continued, drying her eyes with the towel, showing her firm breasts the rosebuds still hard. 

"I studied with the help of scholarship and some well wishers. I have to help my family as best as I can," Again she paused, drying her eyes with the towel. I stayed mum. 

"I am human, bucko, I too need some sex once in a while at least. If I dated some one they would want me to marry them, which I can't. not till at least my sisters finish their studies and start earning. If I got some young local buck to sleep with me, I would be labeled "slut" in no time. You looked like a gentleman and trustworthy. That is why I led you into this. If you think, I did wrong, go on and leave,"

I sat there a while fidgeting and thinking it over. I know what she said was true. A lot of women in India are in the same boat as she does. Many do not have the courage as this one to deliberately bait a man and if they did often they went for the wrong man and got labeled as "Sluts' just as she said. 

Slowly without daring to look at her I got up, went to her and took her in my arms, letting her cry on my shoulders. We had some snacks a little later and then went to bed, laying in each others arms, sharing our pains and pleasures. For, though I am a married man, was not getting the love I needed at home. She is still my friend and I often visit her and the feather is still with her and she loves those red silk gown and the bedspread. 

The End 

Well, folks, I hope you enjoyed the story. Do tell me how you like it, I am open to criticism.

The Fine Art of Romance



Despite the glare of the sun reflecting directly off the glass, I could make out the portrait in the shop window. Not that the painting itself was remarkable; the subject was a girl in her late twenties, demurely dressed almost to the point of dowdy, hands folded on her lap like La Gioconda. There was no enigmatic smile but there were the eyes. I slowly paced the shop's façade watching the eyes follow my movements. I had seen this before in a number of paintings but these eyes were not only following me, but were seeing me with such deep incisiveness and penetration that I felt guilt and pleasure in the same moment.

The shop owner was a portly man whose right hand preoccupied itself with the repetitive task of pressing his glasses to his face using the bridge.

"I don't know who she is," he panted, looking sidelong at me, "ghastly picture which refuses to sell."

"And the artist?"

"A woman calling herself Romance."

"She paints well." I commented. 

The man grunted and shrugged. "The subject's a bit - well you know…well she's not glamorous is she Sir?"

"No. But those eyes. Can you see them?"

"Can't say I can - well not beyond the service of affording their owner the luxury of sight."

"How much?" I asked.

He addressed a small book which he took from his pocket, and gave me a figure in lira, francs, sterling and American dollars - this being an age before the Euro turned the luxurious texture of colourful currency into a pale whitewashed impression. I whistled softly and again he shrugged his shoulders. 

"The artist has set the price. I deal with the agent only."

There was a long pause during which he gathered his breath. "I personally would not pay more than the canvas and frame expense, monsieur."

I arrived at my pension in the dark and made a small fire which raised the spirits of a cheerless room. I sat and brooded as I listlessly spooned a thin soup around its bowl. I knew to the last centime what I had in my meagre account. Even if I sold the Rolex my father had given me as part of his legacy, I would be short by a long margin. I took stock of the spartan apartment at my few possessions mentally realising and totalling their value. I was still short by about ten thousand francs.

I sighed. A bank loan was certainly out of the question. I pondered the problem till I fell asleep.

The girl coming out of the sea was unmistakably Romance - the girl from the painting. As she strode powerfully against the waves her brown shoulders broke through the surf. She entered the shallows, the water running in long rivulets down her rounded breasts, coursing her stomach and thigh, her legs making a wake in their passing. Finally she stood in ankle deep water, forcing water from her long hair with her fingers. She put her hand behind my neck and drew my face to her own.

"What are you thinking?" she asked in a low voice.

"Are we - that is - am I dreaming?"

"Yes. Of course."

She drew my face to hers and painted a soft salty kiss on my mouth. She withdrew her lips just far enough to tease before placing them over my own again with gentle passion which she injected with her tongue. I caught my breath and ran my hands through her damp hair, over her shoulders. It was as cool as the sea she had come from and smooth making the journey to her back and buttocks a natural and sensual route. Romance kissed me more deeply now, sighing, hands behind my head, pressing her lips more firmly to my own. Gently kneading the flesh of her buttock, she responded by drawing her leg along my side and I could allow my hand to complete its journey to her soft mound. My fingers touched gently on her warm flesh and she broke the kiss to sigh gently. 

Her hands ran under my shirt, across my shoulders and down my back. Then suddenly I was naked. There was no actual time I removed my clothes - but it was so right that I suddenly wasn't wearing them.

Her thighs pressed against mine with an urgency and we sank down to the soft sand. 

I kissed her lips individually, her neck, her shoulders as my hand gently teased between her legs. She raised he head to allow me to nuzzle against her throat, while her hand quested in the space between our bodies.

With blessed ecstasy, her hand closed around my erection. My mouth, now on her shoulder, moved downwards. My hand was already covering one of her breasts and I uncovered it as my mouth took her nipple inside, to play, to suck, to tease.

The spoon I was holding fell from my hand, clattering on the ceramic tiles. Even as I awoke Romance's final words crossed between the states of my slumber.

"You can yet afford me."

It was about 2.30 in the morning as I pulled on a rain mac and stepped into the cold night. I turned my collar against the drizzle and walked in quick measured strides. 

The avenue was almost dark except for the lights from the gallery where footlights shone onto the window display. I stood and looked at the portrait again which due, maybe to the night lighting or something intangible - as yet undefined, had taken on a new character. The eyes, as soulful as ever, looked back with the certain knowledge that we had met. I stood for long moments staring at the face, oblivious to the water running down my own. A sharp rapping sound caught my attention.

"Monsieur." The owner rapped on the glass door and opened it. I gratefully stepped inside. 

"You are working late - or very early." I commented.

"And you are out walking late." He countered.

I stood feeling wet and foolish in the shop foyer looking at the shop owner in his pyjamas and robe. Finally he smiled and reached into the pocket of his robe, drew out a scrap of paper.

"I have good news for you on this painting. The artist is reconsidering." 

The paper had a single price - only in francs - still shy of what I had in my account. I shook my head and passed back the note. Even with mortgaging my precious watch and all my other possessions I was not going to make that figure. It was admittedly less distant than before, but a man who cannot swim is as dead dumped a mile from the shore as he is ten miles. 

The man shrugged and again I told him that he was working late.

"I was asleep monsieur, then I was not. I was lying awake and then next, walking down the stairs." Again that gallic shrug. It was an odd explanation that seemed to suit him. 

Sleeping till ten the next day I was too late for work and frittered my time watching the shop. I watched people come and go and the owner periodically look out at me, over the top of the display paintings, pushing back his glasses in a compound gesture of sympathy and reproach.

It was mid afternoon when the painting was removed from the window. Shocked, I strode across the road, narrowly avoided being hit by a car, and with a single motion opened the door and entered the shop.

The small shopkeeper was wrapping the painting in brown paper and a tall man in a pin striped suit was counting money out from a large wallet.

"You cannot!" I protested hoarsely.

"Cannot what, Monsieur?" The customer asked.

"You can't buy it. It's mine - that is - I intended buying it."

The customer turned to the shopkeeper.

"And you have made an arrangement with this man?" he asked.

"No. He wants the picture, but cannot afford it." 

It was simply put and quite correct but I couldn't believe it. Didn't want to believe that this was probably the end of my only chance to own the portrait.

"I only want the frame. The picture . . ." he spat contempt at the canvas, "I shall possibly burn it."

"No, no. I'll buy the canvas."

"You don't understand Monsieur, I own it all and I shall do what I want with it."

I returned to my small pension and lay down. I felt cheated and desperate, but mostly I felt guilty. I was letting her down, I had allowed another man to take her. 

There was no sea this time. Just a small room with a tiny window high on the wall. The floor was stone, as were the walls and the bareness of the room was punctuated by a small table and a single bed with a thin mattress. Romance was perched on its edge, naked and miserable. Bringing her knees up under her chin, she was clutching her legs to her chest. The site was all at once erotic and desperate. 

"Romance?" she didn't look up but rocked herself slowly making a thin keening sound. 

"Romance," I persisted, "what can I do?"

She stood up, noticing me now for the first time, padded across the floor. Again that glorious kiss and again I shed my clothes. She sank back onto the mattress and drew me to her. Our stomachs touched and I could feel her womanhood against my hard erection. Then the walls were too close and the floor too hard, the air too chill and the room forbidding. 

"This won't work." I rolled off and stood up.

"You didn't get the money then?" Her voice was querulous with fear and disappointment. 

I shook my head miserably. 

"And he doesn't love you like I do. He wants to . . ."

Romance placed her fingers over my mouth and hissed.

"Shhh! I shall think of something. Can you wait?"

"Oh yes." 

She placed her lips over my mouth and pressed her tongue deep inside. I found my breathing getting harder but I didn't want it like this. I wanted to tell her that but I woke with a start, the sheets soaked in sweat. Again the voice on the edge of sleep though I couldn't tell what it said.

There were no more dreams and over the nest few days my thoughts and moods were dark and brooding. That cell haunted my waking hours and I found work difficult. I visited the shop on the ridiculous off chance that the painting had been returned but it was a forlorn and childish notion. 

The shopkeeper was excited by my visit and reached into his pocket.

"This morning the servant of the artist called. He said I was to give you the artist's card."

"Where does he live?"

"About 10 kilometres away. I don't know for sure - I have never actually met him. He sends his work to me and I send back his money ."

Gratefully, I seized the card and left.

The house was closer to 15 kilometres away and I walked all the way, arriving exhausted and sweating in the sun. 

The artist's house was old and ramshackle with louvered shutters hanging loosely on their broken hinges. I knocked and walked around the perimeter of the place. Finally a small man opened the back door and emerged blinking the light.

"What does monsieur want?" he queried.

"It's about your painting - the one in the market gallery."

He nodded and led me inside.

"I am, sir, not a artist. I only serve the need of one. Follow me."

He led me into the building. The size of the place viewed from outside was clearly deceptive as we walked along a long hallway. The walls were lined with paintings. Dark dramatic landscapes, sleepy warm meadows and towering mountains. In each painting there was a mood so completely captured in its creation that you could hear every sigh of every breeze, feel the warmth of every sun-dappled view, smell the baking and the kitchens, feel the joy of the children. They were stunning in depth and time, space and feeling. Somehow every possible dimension known and unknown to man was imbued in every stroke. A whole world - a complete enclosed universe was encased, enclosed by canvas and frame.

"Ingenious." I breathed.

I dragged my pace, making myself dizzy as I drank in every nuance that I could. 

Eventually we descended a staircase down into a cellar and the air grew cooler and more dank.

"The muse says exactly where an artist paints," he told "now the muse says despair and misery so all work is now done here."

He led me to a door which I instantly recognised. He bowed and left.

The room was larger than in my dream and the window larger - although still high up. The floor was stone and the bed was larger and more comfortable. But dominating this room, in the centre of the floor was an easel. It was facing me so that the light came over the artist's shoulder. I heard the sounds of brush on canvas and coughed politely.

"Monsieur." I said and coughed again.

The easel scraped aside on the stone floor.

"Mademoiselle." She corrected me and I gasped, "Romance!"

"We have to wait - watch"

She turned the easel so that I could see clearly her work. The painting was simple made from a small number of bold defining strokes. There were only two items in the picture - a fireplace and a roll of canvas lying on the unlit coals.

"He hasn't burnt it yet." I noticed.

"He will do - he'll keep that promise."

Who is he?"

"he is a great painter. Greater than I can ever be. He was my mentor and teacher and lover and now he seeks to destroy me. He has acquired all my paintings and those I have painted of my self, he delights in burning them."

"And what will happen?"

In answer I saw an orange glow on her face. She turned her attention to the canvas and the painting and the surface writhed in flame. I could feel the heat and the light swelled to fill the small room. The fireplace in the picture glowed brightly as the canvas which fuelled it turned to ash.

"I don't know." Romance said honestly, "we shall wait."

I watched the outline of her beautiful face dim as the last of the flames died.

Romance looked at her hands and picked up the brush. It looked awkward in her had. Even to my untrained eye I could see before she told me that something had happened."

"It's over. I shall never paint again."

"I'm sorry."

She led me to the bed, where she undressed us both. Unhurried and languid she ran her hands over me and it seems no less real than my dreams.

She lay on the bed and I kissed her buttock, stroked her long elegant back and lay between her legs. She raised herself and I entered her from behind with ease.

My arms enfolded her and cupped each breast as she rocked back and forth, my cock moving inside her with the rhythm. He breathing became harder, a ragged edge appearing in each breath. I knelt back, held her hips and pulled her hard onto my erection. Pulled her back against my groin. She sighed deeply and moaned. I felt her tighten inside and felt my own desire and longing mount. I took up a movement in counterpoint to her own and allowed myself the release of passion and love.

We lay awake on the bed, looking at the ceiling. She raised her hands into view and looked at them 

"Free." She whispered.

"Excuse me?" I asked?

"Free. He loved me after all."

She knew I wanted an explanation so she enlarged.

"My work is more than just painting. I am - I was a cursed artist. Each time I started I would attract into my soul the lives of those from the picture. The suffering and torment of those not even visible in the picture. The history and the future of every landscape. The ecstasies and heartaches, the fulfilments and longings, the pleasures and anguish, the unbounded joy and the black, deep misery. When these were lodged deep in here, bruising my heart, then I could paint."

I had seen those paintings - I understood. Such creative power couldn't cheap.

"Now the paintings can be sold - they are no longer tied to me. I can no longer paint - which is not something I shall regret. And for the time I have you."

She kissed me again. Deep and long and sensually. 

Gradually night crept into the room making dark corners and shadows. 

When I awoke there was a new painting in the easel. A self-portrait with a finality about its work which made me realise that I'd never see her again.

Romance's servant made me breakfast and I went to leave.

"Your mistress wishes the paintings sold, monsieur." I told him.

He nodded. 

"She has gone n'est pas, monsieur?"

I nodded.

That was a few years ago. The portrait is in my bedroom and watches over me, laughs at my folly, glories in my achievements with me, commiserates at my failures, reproaches my foolish hopes.

But mostly it enhances my dreams, loves and cherishes me during my slumbering hours where I can see her again and each time is new and different, rich and textured as only a waking dream can be. She lays me down, makes me special when I am no longer myself but her more than willing canvas.



The Fine Print



How did I get myself into this position, I wondered to myself. I couldn't say it out loud, with the large and uncomfortable O-Ring gag in my mouth preventing any sound except a gurgle and some drool. I was strapped down to a long bench, face up. My hands where cuffed together underneath the bench, and my ankles cuffed to the leg at that end. I had several straps wrapped around me, securing me tightly to the bench so I didn't slide off and hurt myself. Bright lights illuminated me from one side of the room, and a set of cameras and microphones and other movie recording equipment on the other. I had signed a contract to do 3 porn movies with a studio option on two more. I was going to be the male lead in all of them. I just didn't read the fine print. 

My costars where all Shemales, and the title of the first movie that I was preparing to shoot? Shemale Bukakke! The director walked into the room, and began explaining what was gong to happen. 

"I have about 30 Shemales out there who can't wait to cum all over your face! Aren't you excited?!" I wanted to say no, but I couldn't. I was terrified. 

"They will take turns cumming all over you, sticking there dicks in your mouth, and some of them are probably gonna piss on you, which will be great!" I wanted to say hell no, that's not great, but I had no voice to complain with. Fine print, I must learn to read that if I ever get out of here! 

"We will begin in about 5 minutes...the filming will basically go on until the ladies are tired of cumming. Then we will edit it for the movie. Usually filming lasts anywhere from 5 to 12 hours, depending on the girls." 5 to 12 Hours!?! Oh my god, how was I gonna make it thru this! There was no way I could lay there and eat cum for that long! It wasn't possible! Surely there must be some mistake, or this must be some kind of joke! 

Then the door opened up again and the "Ladies" as the director called them, began to file in. "Ok, remember keep rubbing your dicks, keep 'em hard, and I want 3 around his head at all times! Let's get this thing rolling!" 

The director shouted, and then began to film. I didn't get a chance to see how many actually entered the room, because as soon as the director gave the order, I had 3 of them around my head beating off. I felt a couple sit down on my chest and legs, and someone began twisting my nipples. 

I looked up at the first 3 and one of them squatted over my head and shoved her dick down my throat. I gagged but she kept pumping way. It was only about 6 inches long, but I had never had anything larger than a thermometer that deep in my mouth before, let alone down my throat! She scooted forward a little bit, keeping her dick in my mouth. Another of the ladies got in behind her and began rubbing her dick on my lips, and worked the head of it in as well. Then they stepped off and let the third get her turn. She was larger than the other 2, 8 inches easy, and pretty thick. 

"I bet you can't wait to have this all the way down your throat, can you?" She said, and began stuffing it in my mouth and down my throat. She leaned forward al little and began to fuck my throat, plunging her dick all the way in and out, while the other 2 sat back and played with themselves. Soon the one in his mouth got up and with the other 2 formed a tight circle around his head and began to beat off furiously. Soon each unleashed a torrent of cum, splattering all over his face and in his mouth. He had no choice but to slurp it down. When they where done they backed off and where replaced immediately by 3 more. I could barely see now, one spurt had covered my eyes; everything was in a milky haze. 

"Oh, the poor baby has cum in his eyes," one of them said. "Let me get it out for you." And then I felt warm streams run across my face, and salty liquid land in my mouth. They where peeing on me! "Lets se if he can drink our piss faster than we can fill his mouth up!" one said, and I felt 3 streams enter my mouth. I did everything I could to keep up with the flow, but it was hard. 

When they where finally finished, they said" ok now here comes desert" and soon they too came all over my face. I swallowed what went in my mouth and waited for the next girls to take their place. I had no idea how long I had been there, but I knew I was going to be there awhile longer. The same variation happened over and over again. 

I don't know how long, because I was afraid to see how long my mouth was used as a cum dump and a pissing hole. I just remember being grateful when it was over and untied. My limbs where cramped, and my jaw ached when they undid the O-Ring. I was lead to a shower where I cleaned up and allowed to brush my teeth. I was given my clothes and, handed a check, and told to be back at the same time Next Saturday. "And remember, you signed the contract!" I sighed and looked at the check, and did a double take. Well, maybe it wasn't so bad after all. I was just worried what the next movie would be like. 



The Finer Points of Sheila Ch. 01



"The Beginning..."

EDITED BY:

Miriam Belle

CREATIVE CONSULTANT:

Simply_Cyn

Author's Note:

"For me, this story is the most personal. A lot of this story is based in truth from my own life, so it really has a special place. When it first posted 2 years ago, the reader response was overwhelming. I thought about making changes to it for this reposting, but I decided against it. So, here you go. Cheers!"

***

My senior year of high school was probably the best of my life, if not the most eventful. 

This was the year that I finally came into my own as a person and started really exploring what life had to offer. I was never what one would call a jock, or a nerd, or geek or even popular. I was one of those guys who cruised in that moderate gray area, not really ambitious enough to strive for that ever-elusive and sadly-finite title of "Popular," nor did find myself labeled with the far more common and unfortunately for most long lasting brand "Loser." I was just myself. 

I played football (not very well, mind you, but I could plow people over with the best of them), I worked as hard on my studies as I guess any average senior does and I was stupid enough to start smoking, but smart enough to avoid the pitfall of serious drug addiction.

My best friend Elle was my right-hand woman, my partner through thick and thin since we were six years old. She was a great girl and she had really blossomed starting our freshman year from the beanpole I had know and loved for years to a fully rounded young woman that I lusted after. I guess we both liked each other a lot, but we knew our friendship wouldn't survive it. I had been through seven different girlfriends during the last four years (typical of the high school mentality) and she had been experimenting with her sexuality with a number of different guys. Our relationships never lasted longer than a roll of Mentos, and we cared too much about each other to screw up our friendship with sex.

Elle was 6 foot even with long mahogany hair that hung from her head like shiny silk, all the way to her shoulders. She was a little on the heavy side, but it wasn't grotesque or anything. She just had the right amount of meat on her hourglass frame, with the biggest set of tits in the senior class. She was a healthy 40DD, and the other girls despised her over her natural bustiness. She had large brown eyes that really told you everything you would ever need to know about her. She tended to wear her emotions on her sleeve, which was both good and bad depending on the situation, but for the most part she was a loose cannon. 

And it worked for her.

Her parents had been going through another dive in their marriage that year. Her dad, Tom, and her mother, Sheila, had known me since I was a kid and had always been friends with my family. My mom and Sheila had gone to school together and once it became clear that they would never get out of this one-stoplight town, they resigned themselves to a life of marriage and children. 

I'm not saying that my mom or Sheila regretted getting married or having kids (well, maybe my mom does, at least the marriage part), I just know from talking to Sheila that they both had some pretty upper-end goals for their lives. Instead of becoming a doctor, Sheila settled on becoming a real estate agent and marrying Tom.

I guess we all knew Tom stepped out on her, which blew my mind because Sheila was everything her daughter was, only with bigger tits if you can imagine. I had always meant to sneak a peek at one of her bras throughout my adolescence, but never got an opportunity. I figured that they were at 42DD, if not bigger. I had lusted after Elle to be sure, but Sheila was my secret obsession and the golden standard that not many women could ever really meet. Why in the world Tom would cheat on her was beyond me.

Unbeknownst to Elle, her father had dealt with the guilt over his infidelity by turning all of his attention to her when he was home. She had been daddy's girl all her life, and their relationship was strong and clearly meant to isolate Sheila from the family. I think, even now, that Tom was trying force Sheila to leave or cheat on him so he could be justified in his lifestyle. The hundreds of times I had been over there hanging out with Elle allowed me to witness his mind games, and his total hold over his daughter. It could be simple shit like what to do about dinner, and Sheila would suggest making her homemade pizza (which was fabulous and way better than even Round Table, I might add) while Tom complained that he wanted Chinese. 

Elle would follow suit and finally, Sheila would give in and start to order the Chinese food. Tom would then say he didn't want it if she was going to be a bitch about it, and that they should just have the pizza if it was going to be such a big deal. Sheila was at a breaking point after eighteen years of this, and to her credit, would be as gracious as she could be and offer to make the pizza again rather than argue. Tom would make some smart-ass comment and she would crack. An argument would ensue, and somehow Sheila came off as the villain through the process of Tom's lawyer-esque argument tactics.

In the end he provoked his wife to such angry extremes that Sheila had finally had enough. She slapped the shit of Tom one night, in front of Elle and me, and sent the man to the floor, breaking a lamp. It was no easy feat, as Tom is well over 215 lbs and no slouch when it comes to strength. We were all dead quiet as he stood up, dusted himself off and calmly said, as though he had been rehearsing it, "You know, Sheila, I've fucking had it with you. You're a self-centered bitch who never thinks about anyone but herself, and now you've taken our bullshit and put it out in front our daughter and her friend. It's over."

With that, Tom stormed out confident in his self-nurtured righteousness and made for his truck in the driveway, and Elle got up to follow.

"Sit down, Elle," Sheila said, her eyes on the floor.

"No," Elle said as she knocked over her chair and scooted the table into me, "He's right, you always do this!"

Sheila looked at her, her eyes filled with tears and said, "Do you think I want this? He wants me to leave, don't you understand? He's turned you against me!"

"If you had been a good wife, maybe it wouldn't be that way!" she yelled.

"Elle," I said quietly as I stood up, putting a hand on her shoulder, "You're not being fair."

"You stay out of this," she fired at me. I had never experienced her directing her rage towards me, even for a second in all the time I had known her. I stepped back, my eyes wide as I put my hands up inoffensively.

"Elle, do not go out that door," Sheila said, her voice clearly not kidding as the truck outside started up with a roar. Elle looked at her for a moment, and then left. We stood there for a moment as we heard the truck door slam and then the whine of the tires as Tom pulled out of the driveway and drove off. Even after the squeal of the tires had faded, I could still hear the spiteful words Elle had spat at her mother hanging in the air. Sheila leaned against the kitchen counter, and then slid down the front of it, crying as she went.

"Jesus, Sheila," I said as I sat down beside her and put my arm around her. Her shoulders were shaking violently as she wept, and I couldn't blame her. Tom had fucked her over, and just for standing up for herself, she was being crucified by her own daughter. I said, "She didn't meant that, any of what she said... and Tom is full shit, Sheila."

"Don't talk like that," she said as she regained her composure.

"No," I said, feeling that I had to speak my mind, that maybe if I did, it might help her, "I've seen this shit going on now for a long time, and it isn't fair. He's been turning her against you, and I see it and you see it. I know I have no right to be saying anything, but you and Elle are so close to me, I don't want to see either of you hurt."

"That's sweet Doug," she smiled and looked at me, her eyes puffy and red and yet, looking so reflectively radiant that I felt my heart start thudding in my chest and an erection begin swelling in my pants. "But this is just the way it has to be."

"Why?" I asked, "Why does he get to do this to you? You had every right to slap his sorry ass to the floor, which by the way, was the coolest fucking thing I've ever seen."

Sheila laughed. "Really?"

"Hell yes," I smiled, squeezing her shoulder, "It was like one of those big payoff moments in a movie that everyone has been waiting for, and then it finally comes. If I could have, I would have given you a standing ovation."

"It's really been that apparent?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," I nodded my head.

"He's been cheating on me," she looked at the floor, more tears spilling out as she spoke, her voice trembling as she fought back her inevitable break down, "He's been cheating and I let it go. I ignore it. He says these horrible things to me and I let it go. He sets me up and tricks me into arguments and I let it go. He turns my own daughter against me, and I let it go...no, I let it happen. I let it all fucking happen."

She began sobbing again, and I felt my heart break for her. I pulled her close and held her in silence for the next hour. I worried Elle and her father might come back, but they didn't. In fact, even after I had walked Sheila up to her bed around 9 that night, they still had not returned. Sheila took off her flannel, and the undershirt she was wearing revealed that not only was I right about her tits being in the double D section, but that she was also not wearing a bra. Her nipples looked huge as they strained against the thin fabric, and I had to not stare as she sat down on the bed, flipped her legs up and under the blankets. Thank God she kept her jeans on. I might have creamed myself right there, just looking at her.

"Thank you, Doug," she said as she propped her head up with three of the fluffy pillows, "You're right about everything."

"I wish I weren't" I shook my head, "You and Elle deserve better."

She looked at me for a moment and then said, "You love Elle?"

I smiled, feeling a little embarrassed. "Uh, yeah I guess I do," I said, "But not like that, you know? She's been my best friend for a long time and I just don't want to lose that. I just see so many friends cross that line and after they realize they can't handle it, they lose what they had."

"That's very observant."

"I think so," I said, "I mean, Elle is a knockout, don't get me wrong and a great catch. The only catch better than her in this town is you, Sheila. Considering she gets what she has from you, that's a pretty good place to be in, right?"

Shelia smiled, a blush coloring her beautiful, flawless skin. "You are a charmer."

"I just call it like I see it. Here's my cell phone number if you need anything, okay?" I said as I wrote the number down on a receipt I had in my pocket.

"Thank you Doug," she smiled again, and put the number in her nightstand.

I got up to leave and turned off her bedroom light. As the room fell into deep blue shadows, I said, "You know Sheila, you deserve much better than this. Elle is a good girl, and it isn't because of Tom."

I couldn't see her face very well, but I think I heard her beginning to cry again.

"Good night, Doug."

I wanted to say more, but in the end I didn't.

"Night Sheila."

***

That next afternoon, I bumped into Elle at the mall. She looked tired, but beautiful as always. We walked together for a while, talking about inconsequential bullshit and everything but the incident last night. Her eyes were puffy and red, reminding me of Sheila just before I had left her. I was dying to know what had happened after she and her father got home, but I held off until she was ready to talk. It wasn't until we sat down for dinner at the Taco Hut at the far corner of the food court that she addressed the issue.

"I'm sorry for the way I yelled at you last night," she apologized as she stirred her ice tea with her straw, "That's not how I wanted to spend the evening."

"No, it's alright," I lied, still angry for her ignorance of the truth about her dad, "I just thought it was harsh the way you bailed on your mom."

Elle rolled her eyes. "I know she looks like a victim, Doug. But she's not. You ever wonder why dad acts that way towards her? He's put up with too much of her bullshit over the years, and he's had it. That's why I don't blame him for..."

"... for cheating on her?" I finished, knowing I was either going to get slapped or rewarded for my bold comment.

Elle looked at me, her eyes unreadable as she stirred her tea, her mouth twisted into a tight grimace. She finally said, "Yeah, for cheating on her. Would you put up with that?"

"Elle," I said, feeling more and more uncomfortable, "I've been hanging with you since we were little, and I have never seen your mom do anything to him to justify what he does or says. It's common knowledge what he does behind her back, and I gotta be honest, most people don't see it the way he does."

"Really? What people?"

"Jesus Elle," I sighed as I poked at my taco salad, "It doesn't matter. What does matter is that right now your parents are in a bad way, and they both need you. To be fair, they BOTH need you."

"I'm there for my dad," she eyed me, "but mom can just go to hell."

"Elle..." I began, but she cut me off with her finger over my lips.

"Doug, you're a nice guy, a smart guy," she said softly, "But you are blind to a lot of things. This is one of them. Just let it go."

I considered that hard for a minute as my mind raced. I wanted to defend Sheila, I wanted to make Elle see what that fuck Tom was doing to her family and expose him for the sleazing shit-head he really was. But, I also loved my friend. And I could see that I was going to make it worse if I butted in and made it my problem. She was warning me to stay out of it, and despite what I knew and the injustice of it all, I did just that.

"Okay," I said against her index finger, "Okay."

"Good," Elle smiled and picked at her nachos, "You going to the party tonight?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good, you can be my date."

"No," I corrected her, "I'll be your designated driver when you finally slip into an alcohol induced coma."

"That's love, isn't it?"

I laughed, "Sure."

***

It was a little after one in the morning when I pulled up to Elle's house. Tom's truck was gone, and I thanked God for small favors. I didn't need him breathing down my neck and asking questions. I got out, opened the passenger side door and lifted Elle out of the car. She was passed out from her merrymaking and on her way to having the worst hangover in the history of bottle tipping. She also had fucked three guys at the party from what I understood, and if she didn't wind up pregnant she would be lucky. As I carried her, her shirt opened up and I could see she had lost her bra.

The door was unlocked and I managed to open it. I quietly went upstairs as the staircase creaked louder that I had ever heard in all the time I had known this family. I had just made it to the top when the light came on suddenly, and I almost dropped Elle. Sheila was in the hall, in her nightgown and robe and looking at me.

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"She had a little too much fun with Jacky D. and the Captain," I grunted as I moved towards her bedroom. Shelia came to help me as we got her into the room and plopped her on her bed. Elle only mumbled and then began snoring loudly. I sighed, my arms screaming as they recovered from carrying her weight. In the transfer, her shirt opened all the way, revealing her huge tits. There were hickies all over them and her stomach, up her neck and on her shoulders.

Sheila looked at me. "Did you?"

"No," I said, realizing how bad this must have looked, "No, I was her driver tonight."

"Why didn't you stop her?" Sheila asked incredulously and covered her daughter up, "You're supposed to protect her, and she's your best friend!"

"Hey," I snapped, angry for a moment and then calming down, "She does what she wants and there isn't jack shit I can do to stop her. You don't think I've warned her, Sheila?"

Sheila stood back and glanced down at her unconscious daughter. She shook her head and then smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Doug," she said genuinely as she hugged me. Her body felt so good against mine. The sensation of her huge tits against my chest while sliding in the fabric of her silky nightgown made me feel dizzy. God, she even smelled good, like lavender, as she held me tightly against her. I returned the embrace. She added, "I know that you did what you could. Thank you for bringing her home."

Sheila covered her up and we went down stairs to the kitchen. As we got into the good light, Sheila noticed my eye.

"Jesus Doug, what happened?" she asked as she tilted my face towards her.

"Elle punched me right before she dropped," I said and winced as she touched the bruised skin at the corner of my eyelid, "She really didn't want to come home yet."

"Let me get some ice for that," she said as went to the freezer. I sat down in the chair that Elle had knocked over the night before, watching Sheila's ass flex and un-flex as she walked, the silky fabric at the mercy of her perfectly round ass.

"I am so sorry for her behavior," Sheila said with a frown as she opened the freezer door and grabbed a handful of crushed ice. She opened one of the nearby counter drawers and pulled out a zip lock sandwich baggie and began filling it with the ice.

"Where's Tom at?" I asked bluntly and looked around.

"He's gone for a few days," she said as she zipped up the plastic bag and massaged the ice around inside. She came over to me and applied the ice pack to my eye as she added, "Hunting."

"Hunting," I repeated, the ice wickedly cold against my skin.

"Yeah," she said with a doubtfully sarcastic look, "A man who won't even go camping without a hotel and room service."

"So that's why you guys never went camping," I smiled. I noticed that she was still holding the ice pack to my head, and her breasts were blatantly eye level in a tantalizing jiggle.

"When you're paying off your deadbeat husband's gambling debts and supporting a growing daughter, with rent and bills on the side, well, camping is a luxury."

"I love camping," I said as the sting of the ice faded and then began to soothe, "Maybe I'll take you some time."

There was a moment of silence between us as I realized my words had taken our thinking beyond the mere relationship of mother and daughter's friend. My lust for her, and my concern for her, and I guess my true feelings about her had surfaced and leaked as the words came out, suggesting that I thought we could be more than just our longtime status quo. Sheila looked at me, her eyebrow cocked.

"I'm old enough to be your mother," she smiled maternally, "In fact, I'm best friends with your mother and you know it could never happen."

"I know, " I conceded, but was amazed that we actually knew what we were both talking about, that she had actually had the same thoughts I had. Her words "... and you know it could never happen..." said volumes to me. As much as I had slipped up in letting on that I'd gladly take this married woman camping, she had slipped and let it out that she had already come to the conclusion that we could never happen. And that meant she had thought about being with me at least once before now...

But if she was truly convinced that she wouldn't ever see me that way, it didn't show as she moved, her braless tits swinging for a moment inches from my face.

"Tom and I are divorcing," she said plainly as she sat down in the other chair across for me. "It's been coming for a while now, and I finally gave him a reason."




The Finer Points of Sheila Ch. 01



"That's horse shit," I said, not caring anymore about anything other than her, "He wanted out from day one but was too chicken shit afraid to be a man and just leave with honor. He doesn't deserve you."

She was quiet for a moment.

"Why are you saying these things to me?" she asked suddenly, her voice filled with a real confusion. "I am forty-five years old, and yet you always treat me like some girl you've got a crush on. I catch you looking at me when you should be looking at Elle; you spend time with me when my own husband and daughter wont. My daughter is drunk off her ass, showing off her tits and pussy to the world and I know you've had chances to sleep with her, but you haven't. Why?"

I thought for a minute, searching for the right words to be as equally caring and forward as she was being. With a deep breath, I finally said, "Because, Sheila, Elle doesn't interest me the way you do. As great as a girl as she is, and as attractive as she is, she just doesn't make me feel the way you do. I've never said anything because you're her mom, you're married and your daughter is my best friend in the whole world."

"Wow," Sheila said, "I'm speechless."

"That's why it pisses me off so much that Tom does this to you, that he has gold in his hand, a real treasure and he just fucks it away because he can't find it within himself to pull his head out of his ass. You're gorgeous, everything a guy fantasizes about having whether it is just for sheer sexual fantasy or wondering about what kind of woman is worth marrying. In the end, all that goes together hand in hand, doesn't it?"

"Yes," she agreed and then asked, "You sure you're only eighteen?"

"Last time I checked," I laughed, "I know I've probably bitched up our friendship by telling you all this, and I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Sheila put her hand on mine, "It actually means a lot to me."

"Really?" I asked, not bothering to hide my surprise.

"Doug," she said, "Last night, when you held me and then helped me to bed was the most a man has touched me in ten years that had any meaning."

"No shit?"

"I can't believe we're talking about this," she laughed and looked at the ceiling, her mouth pursed into a smiled, "Tom and I have sex maybe thirty times in a year, all of it just for him and none of it for me. He doesn't care about me, or make me feel good about myself at all. I've started believing him when he puts me down."

"Sheila, are you insane? You have gorgeous eyes, a beautiful smile and perfect skin, hardly a wrinkle on you anywhere from what I can see."

She blushed again, and I could see her nipples getting hard under the sheer fabric of her nightgown. Her breasts were displayed to perfection, a generous line of cleavage showing as she leaned over the table and held my hand, her tits pushed up and resting on her forearm. I wondered if she let her cleavage show because she had forgotten all about it, or because she wanted me to see. I felt myself starting to become aroused as my eyes darted to her tits quickly, memorizing them, fixating on the fine points that each protruding nipple created in the white cups of the gown.

"I have a confession as well," she said as her finger stroked my thumb, "I've been noticing you more and more this last year. You've become a man, and you're very attractive Doug. You have a handsome face and your body is perfect. I can't tell you how many times I've looked at your ass."

"Shit," I laughed, feeling my stomach erupt with butterflies.

"I'm not kidding," she said seriously, "Does that make you uncomfortable, an older woman like me finding you attractive?"

"Not at all."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Always," I said, squeezing her hand.

"Have you ever," she began, shyly looking away and then back at me again, "Ever masturbated thinking about me?"

It was my turn to blush. "Yes, I have. A lot actually."

She nodded, a big grin stretched across her face. It was so good to see her smile again like that. She only said, "Really?"

"Yeah, really," I said, and feeling more bold and I added, "A few times in your bathroom."

"Oh stop it," she slapped my hand playfully.

"No kidding," I said, putting the ice pack down, "Four times during this last summer, mostly while I helped Tom put together that shed out in the back. You were doing a lot of swimming then, and that blue bathing suit you wore was unbelievable."

"The one piece?"

"That's the one," I confirmed, feeling my cock ready to rip through my pants. I wanted her so bad my head was swimming.

"I had no idea," she said amazed, "But I will tell you I watched you work a lot, especially when you had your shirt off. Why do you think I sunbathed so much? I wanted to watch you. It was pathetic when Tom took his off, because he has tits as big as mine, only with a covering of third generation Italian air."

"Fuckin' Sasquatch," I laughed, and she joined me. We laughed for a while like that, thoroughly entranced with each other and enjoying the moment. When we stopped, there was an awkward moment between us, and I knew she was debating with herself about me, whether or not to act out on the urges that I hoped, that I knew were overcoming her as my own did me.

"Doug," she began.

"Wait," I put my hand up, all of sudden possessed of a confidence I had never known before in my life, and I said, "You're about to say that we can't do this, that we have to stop because it's wrong. Maybe it is, but I have to tell you this Sheila; I want you. I've wanted you since I first knew what sex was, since I first could appreciate the curves of your hips and breasts, the smell of your hair, the smooth feel of your skin. Maybe I do lust after Elle, but I can control that. I can't with you."

Sheila took it all in for a moment, and then said, "Doug, I was actually going to say I wanted to fuck you."

"Oh."

"But I love what you said anyway," she said as she got up and stood in front of me. She pulled the straps of her gown down around her biceps and let it fall a little, her breasts almost revealed, their exposure hinging only on her letting go.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know if this is right," she whispered and then let the gown fall away, "But I do know that you make me feel young again, and that tonight, right now, I want you more than anything."

My eyes grazed over her body, taking in the impossible dimensions of her breasts, how full and defiant they were of her age. Her nipples were pink and erect, the areolas large and proportional to her breasts. In the kitchen light, they cast twin shadows that hid her stomach, a little pooched out as result of her pregnancy with Elle, a reminder that would never go away. Her vagina was shaved clean; her thighs free of cellulite and as evenly tanned as the rest of her. The gown dropped to the floor and bunched up around her bare feet. Her hair hung down in a vibrant bronzed sepia waterfall, the ends coming to rest just below her collarbone.

"You're gorgeous," I said.

I stood up, my erection painfully restrained and as I looked at her, I pulled my shirt off. She hungrily looked my body over, taking in every thing from my fine, dark chest hair, pecs and shoulders to my abs and navel.

"Take your pants off too," she whispered.

I undid the fly and pulled them down, slipping my shoes off and pushing it all aside. My cock was rock hard in my boxers, making a sizable bulge. I was only seven inches, but I was thick, and my head was larger than normal if any of what the seven women I had been with prior to this night had told me was true.

"Your underwear," she licked her lips, "Lose them."

I smiled and took them off, letting my erection free for her to see. Sheila looked at me for a long time, as if though my dick had entranced her somehow. I could feel a little pre-cum oozing from my tip as she looked at me.

"You're so much bigger than Tom," she said, "How big are you?"

"I'm seven, maybe seven and half," I answered, feeling my ego rocket sky-high, "How big was Tom?"

"Five inches," she muttered.

"Sad."

"Start stroking your cock for me," she said as she leaned against the wall, "I want you to stroke your self and cum for me."

I began stroking my shaft, alternately rubbing my head as I leaned against the sink and closed my eyes. I couldn't believe this was even happening.

"Keep your eyes on me," she said as she began rubbing her nipples, rolling them back and forth between her thumbs and forefingers. "I want your first orgasm out of the way, so we can last longer."

"Okay," I whispered, already feeling the throes of an orgasm latch into me.

"Do you want me, Doug?" she whispered huskily as she kneaded her tits, pressing them together and teasing me as I stroked myself faster.

"Yes," I managed.

"Do you want to fuck my pussy?"

"Yes."

"Do you want fuck my tits?"

"Yes," I moaned as I watched her lick her nipples, her tongue slowly circling each nub and then disappearing into her mouth as she sucked on one, and then the other.

"Would you like to fuck my tits, Doug?" she asked again, driving her point home.

"God yes," the words staggered out of my mouth as I felt the heat rising from within. Just the thought of my cock between her huge tits was like an concentrated aphrodisiac. Sheila saw my impending orgasm building to a roar as she slipped her fingers into her cunt and began masturbating. She brought a wet finger to her mouth as she played with her nipple, and sucked on it.

"I want you Doug..."

And I came. I moaned as every muscle in my body tightened and I released my load, grunting against my teeth as hot cum jetted from the tip of cock in a powerful, long stream. I blasted spurt after spurt of semen in thick ropes that landed by her feet and then began receding back in sticky puddles as the orgasm ebbed. I could hear a gob of it splatter mutedly on the floor.

"Yes," she whispered and walked over to me, pulling me to her. Our bodies met, her skin so smooth against my own as she kissed me, her pent up sexual frustration escaping into my mouth and spreading throughout my body. Her breasts were firm against me, the nipples poking me delightfully. To my surprise, my cock was starting to recover, something that rarely happened for me so soon after an orgasm. She grinded against me, her pussy sopping and musky leaving my cock, balls and thighs wet as we kissed, naked in the kitchen and puppets to our own desires.

I prayed Tom didn't come home, and I hoped that Elle's indisposition lasted for at least another hour.

"I've wanted this for so long," she huffed against my neck, giving me a hicky as she stroked my growing cock.

"Tell me about it," I breathed as I massaged her tits, finally able to touch what I had coveted for years. She felt amazing, like heaven as my fingers caressed her nipples and glided across her soft flesh. I cupped her breasts in my hands, letting my obsession with them take hold. She was pumping my cock, priming it for what was to come as she kissed me again, her tongue furiously establishing dominance over me. 

"Alright Sheila," I smiled at her as I guided her away from me and led her to the table, "Sit on the table."

She smiled devilishly, "Okay..."

"Lay back."

She did, and the solid oak table held. Her massive breasts fell away and off to the sides as she settle on her back. I parted her thighs wide open, and got my first good view of her pussy. It was so bare, pink and wet as I looked at her. There wasn't a hint of any odor except a sweet musky smell that lighted to my nose like an instinctual perfume. It was raw and powerful, a testament to her sexual arousal and need for me. I lowered my face to her swollen mound and breathed her in.

I licked her lips slowly, teasing her as I varied the pressure and twist of my tongue against her. I began to gently let my tongue slip into her pussy, tasting the sweet nectar of her sex. Sheila moaned a little and shifted as I teased, and I could see her playing with her nipples again. I began exploring every fold, every inch of her vagina with my tongue until my reach could go no further. My chin was dripping with her fluids as her wetness slowly dribbled down my neck. She was so wet it was crazy, and I wondered if this was what happened when a woman couldn't be satisfied by her lover for a long period of time? Did all of it just build up, waiting to be released like a volcano?

I noticed her clit was already out of hiding and brought my lips down to it. I teased her hard button, flicking it and rubbing it with my tongue, gently attacking it and making her moan loudly now.

"Oh shit, yes," she moaned as she pulled at her nipples and bit her lower lip, "Fuck yes, just like that."

I don't know how long I was down there, and truth be told I was being turned on as much by this as she was. Her moans and whimpering, her desperate "yes's" were causing my cock to become like a piece of steel as I ate her out. Finally, with a scream that echoed throughout the kitchen, she orgasmed hard and scooted her self across the table a little bit in conjuncture with each spasm. A flood of her cum splashed me as she screamed, her hands grasping the table top so hard that her veins popped out, her muscles flexed in shock.

"Yes baby, yes," she whispered, pulling me to her on top of the table. My cock slid against her wetness as I kissed her breasts, licking them and suckling them. 

"Fuck me," she said as she pulled my face to hers, "Fuck me."

"Yes," I said, lost in the pleasure as she grasped my cock and slid it into her. I moaned unabashedly loud as she took me in, her hot wet tunnel a perfect fit my throbbing cock. My head created an ungodly tension against her inner walls as I finally slid in to the hilt, my cock completely hidden inside her. She moaned, her mouth an open "O" of pleasure as she devoured me with her eyes. We began fucking, the table creaking as we humped. Her tits swayed and bounced with our rhythm as we made love, right in the middle of a table that I had ate dinner at so many times before. We kissed frantically as we lost track of time, only knowing each other and nothing else.

Soon, I was close again as I relished everything about her. I can remember odd moments of clarity when in the haze of my lust, I could clearly see every bump of her areolas and the barely visible thin blue veins on the undersides of her breasts. I remembered her eyes, and the gold flecks of color that peppered her bronze irises. She whispered something to me as her pussy tightened around my shaft like a strong hand and I felt a rush of fluid again, soaking my balls. 

She yanked me to her and I felt her bite into my shoulder, her fingernails piercing my back as she orgasmed again. Her spasming was the catalyst for my second orgasm, and I blew my load inside her. As I throbbed and my vision clouded, we were locked together, unable to move. Her legs were wrapped around me in a vice-like grip as she rode the last of her orgasm, her face buried against me as I tried not to crush her with my weight. We rolled to our side and held each other as I slowly felt my cock lose its hardness inside her, gradually returning to its normal resting position.

I was about to say how fantastic that was when the table legs gave out and we went crashing to the floor. We lay there in the rubble shocked for a moment, listening for any movement upstairs. After five minutes, we began giggling and then laughing. We kissed on the broken table for a little while longer and then realized I had to get home. I remembered my mother and father would be worried, and I probably was going to be hung for being out so late. We quickly cleaned up and got dressed.

"That was fucking fantastic," I marveled as I tied my boots up.

"You are amazing," she glowed as she looked at me, her nightgown back on and hiding her incredible body again, "You sure you're only eighteen?"

"Yeah," I laughed, "A fact my parents will remind me of when I get home."

"Damn," she said, "I am so sorry about that. There's nothing I can do help with that."

"I know," I said as I kissed her, "But you are worth any punishment I might get over this."

"We're crazy, you know."

"I know."

She looked at the table, and then looked thoughtfully at me. "I guess I can tell Elle she came home drunk and broke the table. She won't remember."

I laughed. "Evil."

"Necessary," she replied as she looked at her ring finger and pulled the two rings off with one deft move. She looked at the gold bands for a moment and then put them on the counter, "Just like this is necessary."

I smiled. "I'll see you later?"

"You better," she pulled me to her and kissed me, "I didn't cross this forbidden line only to have you for one night."

"And," I said as I licked her lips and massaged her tits, "You owe me a tit-fucking..."

Sheila smiled.

... to be continued...



The Finer Points of Sheila Ch. 02



"Complications..."

EDITED BY:

Miriam Belle

CREATIVE CONSULTANT:

Simply_Cyn

Author's Note:

"You'll notice that the narrative shifts for a brief moment in the story towards the end when Brett sees Doug and Sheila together at the Freeling Hotel. This is a total violation of every grammatical and literal law of the universe, but as the story is told through Doug's eyes in the first person I had no choice. It was a major plot point and I can only beg your forgiveness, dear reader...

... and the 'Born in sin' riff Doug and his friends share in the school parking lot is a reference to 'Storm of the Century.' To those who caught that, very good eye. Cheers!"

***

Following the return home that Sunday morning, I found my mother and father beyond irate with me. They screamed and screamed about responsibility, about the rules and how even though it was last few months of high school, by God I was still under their roof. Thus, I would follow their rules to the letter or suffer the consequences. To prove their point, I found myself on the receiving end of a week's grounding.

"Man, I am so fucked," I groaned over the phone to my friend Brett, "I go to one fucking party and play caretaker for Elle, and I get screwed."

Of course, I had been screwed in more ways than one...

"Well, what time did you get home?" Brett asked, clearly chewing something crunchy as we talked.

"It was around three in the morning," I said.

"My parents would have put my hot dog in a bun and chowed down," Brett laughed.

"I can't be stuck here, man," I said, "I have things I need to do."

"Like what? All you do is sit around and read comic books and smoke," Brett crunched as I held the phone away from my ear, "You're like a fucking Kevin Smith movie rolled into a tightly packed little toke."

"Hey, you're the one getting his meds from Dr. Wacky T. Backy," I said, praying to God no one was listening. If mom and dad found out Brett was smoking pot, even a little bit, they'd go ape shit and I'd be grounded even longer, just for being there.

"Speaking of which, I think the doctor over-medicated me," he laughed, his voice trailing off a little.

"Brett, stick with me here man," I shook the phone.

"You and Elle got something going on, man?" he asked bluntly, "I mean, all I can figure is you want to see her again for more than just friendship. Did something happen between you two?"

I paused for a minute. Something did happen that night, but not with Elle. "No," I replied.

"It did too," Brett accused me excitedly, "Holy shit, you boinked her. You fuckin boinked Elle."

"I did not," I protested, feeling I had just made my life unintentionally more complicated. As if it weren't already complicated enough. I had not only kissed Elle's mother, Sheila, but had proceeded to have sex with her in the kitchen until the table broke. But we had done something more than just fuck though, and I couldn't lie to myself about it. The passion we had shared was beyond anything I had ever known, and now I couldn't think of anything else but her.

But if Brett put the word out that I had slept with Elle, even though I hadn't, it would piss off Elle and even worse, it might hurt Sheila.

"Brett," I said over the stoner's maniacal laughing and whooping, "How the fuck do you keep top grades while you fog your mind out?"

"Wake and bake, baby," he laughed, "Was she good?"

"It wasn't Elle."

"Then who was it?"

"This girl I met at the party," I lied, pulling a story out from off the top of my head, "Uhm, she was a cousin of somebody there, I forget."

"Wow, way to go man. Was she hot?"

"Fuck yeah," I smiled, remembering how Sheila had looked when she dropped her nightgown straps down and revealed her breasts to me. The way they swayed and moved with her walking, the size of her areolas and the indescribable feeling of sucking on her nipples. "She had huge titties."

"That's my man," Brett laughed and there was a pause. When I first met Brett, I used to wonder why he always paused like that. But within three days of hanging out with him, I realized that when you inhale, you have to take a pause to get the full effect. For Brett, it was a quasi-religious experience, a reverence to each hit. There was a release of air on the other end of the line as Brett flew even higher. He said, "God I love titties."

"Me too man," I said, and looked at the clock. "I gotta go, okay?"

"Cool," Brett mumbled as he dropped the phone and then hung up.

"Shit," I sighed as I lay back on my bed, thinking of Sheila and how much it was going to suck not seeing her. I wanted her to think of me as an older man, a man without any childish rules hanging over his head. 

'Groundings for a week at a time don't help convey that image,' I thought dismally. But she had been worth ever minute I was sentenced to be grounded in this room for the next week. I turned the lights off, locked the door and stripped down naked. I laid back down on the bed and thought of her, the way she kissed me, the way her pussy felt around my cock and began masturbating.

***

That following Friday Elle, Brett and I all had lunch together outside in the parking lot of the school. We sat on the tailgate of my 4X4, a large pepperoni pizza opened and nearly completely devoured as we talked and laughed.

"Sorry again about your eye," Elle squinted at me, her face a perfect picture of guilt, "I didn't mean to club you."

"It's all right," I said casually through a mouthful of pizza, my black eye faded to a barely visible green stain. "Your kitchen table avenged me."

Elle rolled her eyes. "I have no memory of breaking the damn table. I mean, the thing was splintered, it was like someone would have had been fucking on it."

"Did someone meet you after I dropped you off?"

"Or did you and Doug do the nasty?" Brett chimed in.

"No," we both said in unison.

"You were really smashed, Elle," I said, "You could've crashed through the front door and never known about it."

"Mom said I was really angry," she said, looking away. "Like that bitch ever notices anything about me."

I sighed. "Don't call her a bitch, okay?"

"Why not," Elle laughed and shrugged, "She is a bitch. She's fucked me and dad over for years now, and we've finally had enough."

Brett looked at her, his eyes red-tinged and relaxed. "Whoa, you never told me your folks weren't on the level with each other. Well, I mean we all know your old man steps out..."

"Watch it, you fuck rag," Elle warned him.

"Hey hey," Brett held his hands up inoffensively, stifling back a nervous laugh, "I'm just saying maybe your mom has a reason to be angry at your dad."

"And how is it any of your business?" she glared at him. I knew this was going to get bad as Elle postured herself, her hands flat on her knees as she sat on the edge of the truck bed. Her head was cocked like a predator, waiting for the moment of the kill.

"It's not, Hotrod," Brett offered apologetically, "I didn't mean to get into your shit. Sorry."

A smile crossed Elle's face, though it didn't touch her eyes. "It's cool. I'm sorry too. I'm just really wound up lately."

Brett pointed at me, desperate to change the conversation. "D-man here scored after the party."

Elle looked at him. "I'm your best friend, and you didn't tell me?"

I shrugged, my eyes wide as I lit my cigarette. "I just..."

"You asshole, you had sex and didn't tell me? Who?" she slapped my shoulder hard, her face looking genuinely hurt.

"Hey, gentlemen don't discuss that stuff in public," I countered.

"This coming from the guy who ran around the locker room his freshman year after he lost his virginity to Carol Kinsky shouting 'YIPPEE'," Brett laughed as he took one of my Camel Lights.

"I didn't yell 'YIPPEE'," I frowned as I dragged on my smoke, "I shouted 'HOORAY'. There's a difference"

"Because 'HOORAY' is so much more dignified," Elle rolled her eyes and nodded to my cigarette, "You know that shit drug is going to kill you someday."

"Cigarettes are not in the same category as drugs," I said plainly.

"Nope, they're not," Brett agreed and then scowled at her, "You smoke too, by the way."

"Not as much as you, peace pipe," she said, "Nicotine is highly addictive, worse than heroine, so I hear."

"Where do you get your news?" Brett said under his breath.

"Addictive, yes," I nodded, "But, nicotine is not illegal, people do not get shot by cigarette dealers, there are no Colombian nicotine cartels with an iron grip on the third world and, most importantly, I won't go to jail for smoking my cigarettes in public."

"And, you can't shoot nicotine, or snort it," Brett added academically. "Or drink it... I guess alcohol counts as a drug though. Wow, I am such a druggie."

"But it is addictive," Elle stated to me, unwilling to change her opinion.

"As addictive as sex," I conceded, and then looked at her as I ate my last piece of pizza, "But cigarettes never alter your mind, or make you do crazy shit, or make you pass out at parties and have to be driven home at one in the morning and endure a hang over for good measure the next day."

"Fuck you," she laughed as she took a drag on my smoke. "How about we call it a vice?"

"Born in vice, say it twice," Brett smiled.

"Born in lust, turn to dust" Elle continued, looking to me to finish the quote.

I smiled to at the reference, "Born in sin, come on in."

We chuckled for a moment at the shared reference before Brett said, "We have got to get a fucking life."

Brett said his goodbyes and skipped out, his day over at noon already. Elle and I marveled at how he could burn as much weed as he did in a day and still pass all his classes with perfect A's. Some guys have all the luck, Elle remarked as we cleaned up our mess, tossed it into a trashcan and went back into the school.

"So," she said quietly, "Who did you hook up with?"

I felt a stab of guilt and wanted to say 'Your mom...' but stopped myself. I was used to telling her everything, but this was so big, so different from anything else that had ever happened before. Elle could never understand what happened between her mom and me, what it meant. I looked ahead, my eyes focused on the buildings that composed the high school.

"Some girl, I'm not sure who to be honest," I said.

"That's not like you," she said, her voice betraying the fact that she didn't believe me. I knew she was hurt that I wouldn't tell her who it was. She felt left out of my life and that was something she had never been before. "But, I guess we can all have a fling every now and then, right?"

"We both did that night," I remarked and tossed the cigarette, stepping on it, "You remember who you hooked up with?"

Elle was quiet as she recovered from my cheap shot. "No, I don't."

I put my arm around her and held her tight. "It happens."

"Yeah, it does," she said unconvincingly,

"Do me a favor okay?" I smiled at her reassuringly.

"Anything."

"I'll go easier on the smokes if you go easier on your mom."

"Doug..."

"Ah," I stopped her, eyebrows raised and my finger up, "I have one life to live, you have one mom to love and shit doesn't last forever. Deal?"

Elle hugged me, and I felt both incredibly good and guilty at the same time. Her breasts pressed against me not unlike Sheila's had the night we fucked all over her kitchen. She smiled and kissed me on the cheek. "Deal."

As I went to my locker, it occurred to me, with a degree of nausea, that the stakes had just been upped a notch as I thought about the kiss my best friend had just laid on my cheek, and the mother of that best friend I had laid a few nights back.

"Fuck me running," I muttered and slammed my locker shut.

***

"Doug," my mother called as I walked in the door. I looked into the kitchen and found Mom, Dad and Sheila sitting together at the table. My heart bottomed out as I wondered if our secret had been discovered, or worse, if Sheila had confessed. In my mind, I saw myself chained to a wall for life, bread and water the only luxuries as my parents broke me for fucking a friend of the family. The sign above my head would read, "ADULTERER."

I knew I was a moment away from a heart attack, and I did the only thing a man could do at a time like this.

I smiled broadly and played dumb. "What's up?"

Mom looked at me apologetically. "Sheila told us what you did."

"And that would be?" I asked, my brain ready to explode as my bladder considered a flush and run maneuver. 

"You were telling the truth," Dad said, "You probably saved Elle from being hurt at that party. Sheila said you brought her home around one, but stayed to help get her into bed."

"He didn't have to stay, but he did," Sheila covered for me, her eyes saying so much to me as I felt a wave of relief wash over me. "Elle became very angry, she's not a very good drunk I'm afraid. And she's been angry about the situation between Tom and me. She actually hit poor Doug."

"I'm sorry we overreacted," Dad said and hugged me, "You did a brave thing."

I stood there, dumbfounded. "Well, what can I say Dad? It's cool."

"Your grounding is over, Doug. You're a free man."

I smiled and put my backpack down on the floor, leaning against the counter and sending mental messages of my undying gratitude to Sheila for bailing me out, even though it came a little late. I knew that she couldn't have heard me, but she nodded to me and smiled a secret smile. I felt myself relax as I forgot about the day and just basked in the happiness I felt. It was such an alien feeling, to be this happy. And I realized that it wasn't because I had been exonerated from my punishment, or that Sheila had been on the level enough to rescue me and tell a whopper of a lie, but rather that her very presence in the room was enough in and of itself.

"Will Sheila be staying for dinner?" I asked as I pulled a box of Ritz crackers down from the cupboard, "I mean, she just saved me from a week in the hole."

"I can't," Sheila frowned and looked at Mom, "I have to be in the city tonight. A prior engagement."

"Some other time then?" Mom asked hopefully.

"Absolutely," she smiled and stood up to leave. She wore a very flattering sundress, his hair pulled back and glowing in the afternoon light that flooded the kitchen. The yellow fabric was ablaze from the light as it hugged her body, the curves of her breasts casting shadows across the flat of her stomach. She hugged Mom and waved to Dad as she picked up her purse.

"Your mom has a box of dishes for me," she said to me, her eyes alive and brimming with a special yearning. "Carry them for me, and we'll say your debt to me is paid."

I hoisted the heavy box up and carried it out the door, down the driveway to her car. She popped the trunk open and I put the dishes inside. She smiled and closed the trunk, giving me a hug. I could have died right there as she embraced me, her perfume filling my nose like a faint, hypnotic mist.

"Thank you," I whispered to her.

Sheila broke our hug and said, "No, thank you Doug. For everything."

She opened her door and got in, and I could not stop staring at her. Her dark, beautiful eyes looked at me as she started the car. For one terrible moment, I thought she might actually drive away without another word.

"Be at the Freeling Hotel tonight, Doug. Nine o'clock."

I was speechless.

"I'll take that as a yes," she smiled and put the car in gear.

"Definitely."

As she pulled away, I walked back up to the house and thought of an old song I had heard when I was a kid, a favorite of Dad's that seemed to sum up how I felt about Sheila Crane in a single word; unforgettable.

***

I spent the rest of my afternoon making plans and setting up an intricate network of lies and falsehoods so complex only a politician could have appreciated it. At least, that's what I thought as I worked my plan out for being away tonight. But as I schemed, I realized I was over-thinking it and took a deep breath. In the end, simplicity made for the best course of action, and I opted for what Brett often referred to as "The Three's Company Maneuver" rather than the "Bond Villain, Doomed-to-Failure-Overly-Elaborate-Scheme." I grabbed my phone and called Brett, who was on his fifth joint of the evening.

"Okay, I need to stay at your place tonight."

"Dude, we have not had a pajama party since we were ten," Brett said.

"Sleep over," I shook my head, "It's called a 'sleep over' Brett! And I'm not actually staying over. I just need my parents to think I am."

"You're gonna go see your mystery woman?"

"Yeah, you got it."

"But you said you didn't remember her name," Brett observed, his voice so laid back it might have fallen over.

"She called me today after school," I lied, "She wants to meet me again."

"Sweet, you lucky fuck."

"So can I count on you?"

"For sure. I just have one delivery to make tonight, but otherwise, I'm here."

"Thanks, man."

"No sweat, brother."

"Hey Doug," Brett called, just as I was about to hang up.

"Yes?"

"What's her name?"

I was brain locked for a moment, and then blurted, "Judy."

"Judy?"

"Yeah, got a problem with that?"

"No man," he said, sounding disappointed, "I kinda thought maybe she had a name like Bambi or Alexis... I hear 'Judy' and I think... 'judge'... or 'Jetson'."

"Goodbye, Brett," I hung up the phone.

Next, I informed my parents that I would be with Brett tonight, and that maybe we would head into the city the next morning for a ball game. I gave them the number of Brett's cell phone and packed my bags for the night. My mind flooded with anticipatory images of Sheila, and I felt like I couldn't move fast enough. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand as I fumbled through my bottom drawer, pulled out the box of condoms and shoved them in the duffel bag. The red LED numbers indicated that I had exactly two hours to get to the Freeling Hotel.

***

I had stopped at a gas station on the way in to the city and changed into my nice evening clothes, a dark blue shirt and blazer to match with my best slacks. I had showered thoroughly before leaving home, and now felt I looked as good as I was going to get as I combed my short hair as best I could. I felt like I was in control of my life, for the first time ever as I pulled into the Freeling Hotel Parking Garage and found a space almost a full mile from the actual hotel. At least, that's how far away it felt as I walked the distance, the space number written on the back of my hand.

Once inside, I was greeted by the pretty hostess and directed to the dining room. It was luxurious, the lighting set purely for mood and thick with a cinematic atmosphere as waiters took orders and patrons laughed. The smell of cigarette smoke curled around my nose invitingly, and I felt a real rush as I walked into the crowd of people. In the center of the circular room was a large dance floor where a live band was pumping out the best of Frank Sinatra and every other crooner this side of Dean Martin for the guests. People danced briefly and then went to their tables while others just kept going, blissfully unaware of changes in songs or time.

It was surreal, a place I could have only imagined in a movie.

I looked for Sheila, scanning the tables and not having any luck at all. A gorgeous redhead bumped into me, her hand accidentally brushing my crotch as she passed. She never gave me a sideways glance as she moved gracefully through the crowd and disappeared into the sea of faces. A tall waiter with a pinched face came up to me and asked, "Do you need help? You look lost."

I smiled, speaking up over the music. "Yeah," I said, "I'm supposed to meet a friend here, but I can't find her."

"Name, sir?"

"Sheila Crane."

The waiter looked at the ceiling thoughtfully for a moment, and then as if a light bulb had gone on over his head, he snapped his fingers. "Oh yes, this way."




The Finer Points of Sheila Ch. 02



I was surprised the waiter even remembered names in a place this big as I followed him though the crowd and then the dining tables. The smell of expensive foods and wines permeated the air, so thick you could almost touch it. The underlying aroma of smoke complimented the mix as we moved forward. Finally, the waiter motioned to a booth, secluded from the main floor, warmly lit with muted orange and yellow lights. Sitting in the booth was the woman who had pretty much stolen my affections.

"Hello," Sheila smiled. 

She was in the most beautiful black dress I had ever seen. It was simple and yet so powerful as it framed her body to perfection. The dress dipped from its spaghetti straps to show her cleavage in a modest yet undeniably provocative way, while the skirt ended just above her knees. A slit ran up the side and revealed a glimpse of her thigh. Her legs were smooth and shiny in the glow as she walked over to me and took my hand. Her sepia-toned hair fell at her shoulders in waves I had only seen in those shampoo and conditioner commercials on the television. Her lips were a dark, neutral red and seemed to be more full that I had ever thought possible. Her eyes were the only mysterious part of her, keeping their tantalizing secrets for later.

"Hello," I smiled and kissed her deeply, not caring who saw us. Sheila returned the favor, our tongues sliding together as we greeted each other.

"You made it," she grinned, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"You're surprised?" I asked as we sat down in the booth. 

Sheila looked away for a moment. "Well, there was a part of me that thought you might change your mind."

I looked at her. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Because I'm so much older than you."

"Hey," I took her hand again and squeezed gently, stroking her index finger with my thumb, "That doesn't matter to me at all. You understand?"

She smiled such a beautiful smile that it made my heart flutter a little. "Yes, I think I do. You look so sexy."

"You're just saying that cause you wanna get laid."

"I mean it," Sheila laughed and then added, "And I want to get laid."

We talked about everything over dinner, from my plans for the future to Tom's refusal to come home much anymore after the incident. Sheila revealed Elle was slipping further and further away from her, and I told her about the hostility her daughter had displayed towards her recently.

"I stick up for you," I said, taking another drink of water, "But you know Elle."

"Yes I do," Sheila shook her head, "I just can't believe all this is happening. I'm losing her."

"She loves you Sheila, she really does," I offered, pushing my plate away, full and content for the moment, "She just has her own issues right now. She'll come around"

The music began again as a more modern band replaced the crooners and set the beat for more lively dancing. Sheila looked into the circle of the dance floor where everyone was gathering and, for better or worse, dancing. She stared at me and asked, "You feel adventurous?"

I looked at the crowd of people. "You feel like being embarrassed? I dance like Jerry Lewis in 'The Nutty Professor'."

"That's fine," she winked as she pulled me up out of my seat and led me to the dance floor, "I'll be your Stella Stevens."

Soft blue lights illuminated us as Sheila held my hand, leading the way. I watched her ass under her dress, engrossed and disbelieving this was actually happening. After a few minutes we found a decent spot and Sheila began dancing with me. The beat of the music was undeniably Latin and fast, relentless as the crowd let the alcohol go to their heads and cut loose. I felt a little self-conscious as we danced. Sheila was so fluid, so natural in every movement as she gyrated her hips, letting her legs gracefully complete each movement as though it were second nature. Her breasts heaved and bounced as she taught me how to dance.

"You need to loosen up," she laughed at me as she grabbed my hips and moved mine to her own, the repetitive undulations sexy and needful. She looked me dead in the eyes and held my gaze. A light film of perspiration had covered our skin, making us shine in the cool blue lights.

"Like this?" I asked, my eyes locked on hers. My hands rested on top of hers as she held my hips, our bodies moving closer and closer together. Each beat of the music was a catalyst for some new and exciting emotion as we neared each other. It was so far away from the past, from the reality we lived in each day. It was no longer about age or distance, school or motherhood but about two souls, a common purpose between them. 

"Just like that," she whispered, and time seemed to slow down, the music becoming a muted thumping of a beat we could no longer hear but felt as our noses touched. I heard her draw a breath that echoed though my world, shaking it and soothing it like a steady wind. I felt her heart beating in turn with mine as our bodies touched, electrified with a feeling I hadn't known since I first lost my virginity. She couldn't move her hands, and I didn't want her to ever move them again as our lips met.

There was something in that kiss, that one singular kiss that set it apart from every other one we had shared since that Sunday morning. I knew what was happening to us, as impossible as it might have seemed two weeks ago as she kissed me, tasting me for what felt like the first time. And maybe it was the first time. We had none of the baggage here at The Freeling that we had carried around at home. We were free here. She moaned against my lips and I felt my cock growing against her thigh.

"Upstairs?" I asked quietly, breaking our kiss.

"Upstairs," she kissed me again, took my hand, and led me away.

***

"This shit had better be good, Brett," Rob Caleb warned as they exchanged the heroine for money, "If it's as good as you say, I'm in for another grand."

"Dude, this shit is the fucking Mad Max Road Warrior Shit Storm," Brett smiled and slapped customer's shoulder as he stepped into the hallway of the second floor of The Freeling. "Why would I drive all the way out here to deliver if I wasn't making good on my promises?" 

"Just get the fuck out of here," Rob growled and closed the door. Brett flipped through his money, making sure the three thousand was crisp, green and accounted for. He smiled to himself and walked to the elevator. As he approached the corner, he heard Doug's voice coming down the hall. In the windows, he could see around the corner slightly and the reflection showed him with a woman. Brett ducked behind one of the huge potted palm plants.

"This must be Judy," Brett chuckled as he waited for them to round the corner. Sure enough, it was Doug looking very nice as he escorted his mystery date. Brett nodded his head in approval as he checked her out. She was stacked and definitely dressed to kill as they stopped at the door across from his hiding place. Brett was imagining the woman's ass naked when she turned, and kissed Doug full on the lips. Brett dropped his money on the floor as his eyes went wide.

"That's Elle's mom," he whispered to himself, watching them unlock the door, and then hang a do not disturb sign on the knob. It slammed shut, and he could only sit there, shocked.

"Either I got some bad shit, or that was Mrs. Crane and Doug," he shook his head, but knew full well what he had seen. He thought of the broken table Elle had mentioned, and how she said it was like two people had fucked on it and broken it.

"Fuck me Freddy," he whispered, grabbed his money and hurried out.

***

Our kisses had become frantic and breathless as Sheila tugged at my belt, slid it off and tossed it. It landed on the floor with a metallic jingle as the buckle hit. She tore at my shirt, actually ripping the buttons off. They flew like tiny bullets as she felt my body with her hands, memorizing my muscles and the smooth texture of my skin. I pulled her straps down and she wiggled out of her dress, letting it bunch up at her feet. She kicked it away and it lighted on the television set, draping there. Her high heels came off next with two swift kicks as she kissed me.

"I have missed you so much," I managed as I undid my pants.

"God I want you," she growled and pulled me to the bed, wrapping her legs around my waist as I finally came free of my pants and underwear. We embraced each other, my cock grinding against her wet pussy. I vaguely realized that she hadn't been wearing panties, and if she had been, they came off with the dress. She felt so hot against me as we rolled all over the king size bed, our tongues locked together.

I managed to unhook her bra and she slipped it off, letting her breasts free for my needing tongue. She straddled me and leaned forward as I licked her nipples, suckled on them, my tongue darting at them like a crazed snake. She ran her hands through my hair, closing her eyes and relishing every movement of my hands. I cupped her large, milky breasts as though they were a national treasure. Each lick was a testament to my attraction to her, to my need and lust for her. Every suckle and kiss on her skin was a promise of my commitment to please her, to make her feel as though there were no other woman that could ever compare.

With a gentle roll, I guided her onto her back and laid her out straight. I moved with smooth, intentional purpose, my frantic passion giving way to a more professional experienced want. My tongue flicked her neck, followed by hot, wet kisses down her chest, across her collarbone and shoulders and then directly between her tits. I held her hands aside gently, and licked her nipples again, my tongue applying a pressure and friction to her tips hoping that she might scream. They were so hard and sensitive as I kissed them, suckled on them and teased them.

I kissed under the swells off her breasts, over her ribs in a back and forth sweeping motion, my tongue leaving a wet trail marking her as mine. She bit her lip as I applied hot, long wet French kisses to her belly, around her navel and below causing her to heat up internally. I imagined an oven, the fire being stoked to burn hotter and faster. I kissed down her legs, dragging my tongue down the insides of her thighs, down to the knees and calves. I kissed down to her foot and gently kissed each toe, and then worked my way back up, spreading her legs apart as I went.

When I reached her pussy, I immediately went to kissing her clit, my tongue working it's way to position as she squirmed under me, moaning my name. I swirled my tongue around her hard button, desperate to please her. I flicked it and nibbled on it, playing with and teasing it as much as I could. Sheila was now moaning so loudly I was sure anyone next door was getting a hell of an audio show. I felt her hands on my head, through my hair and back up to her breasts as I worked her. I watched her pinch and pull her nipples hard as she neared her climax.

I slid my hands up and massaged her tits as she started cumming. I tweaked her nipples hard as she squirted her vaginal fluids. Her cry was loud and heartfelt, even soulful as she was carried away by her climax. I stopped and lay next to Sheila as her eyes were shut tight, her mouth open as she sucked in air.

"Do you know what you do to me?" she asked, every other punctuated with a heavy breath.

"Probably exactly what you do to me," I said, watching her impressive breasts heave up and down as she recovered. Sheila smiled at me and grasped my shaft. I forgot all about the condoms I had left in my duffel, in my car in the parking garage as she straddled me. My cock slipped into her wet pussy and once again, I was in a place I had only read about. I could feel her tighten and squeeze around my shaft as she began humping me, her hands braced against my pecs. 

As we found our rhythm, a thought occurred to me that for the first time, without any question or doubt, I knew I had graduated from merely fucking to making love with someone. Sheila seemed to sense this revelation as she leaned down, her massive tits resting on my chest and kissed me gently.

Sheila could sense the orgasm building up inside me already as she rode my cock. But the night was young, and for the moment so was she. She gasped as my shaft began rubbing her just the right way. Sheila threw her head back, a smile on her face as she moaned. She knew, just I knew that the impossible was coming true.

She was falling for me... and I for her.

...to be continued... 



The Finer Points of Sheila Ch. 03



"The Inevitability Of It All..."

EDITED BY:

Miriam Belle

CREATIVE CONSULTANT:

Simply_Cyn

Author's Note:

"When they have you by the balls, they really know how to squeeze..."

***

It was around one in the morning when I opened my eyes. At first, I was a little confused as I slowly focused on the strange room around me. I felt a brief moment of panic as I registered I was not in my own room. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I remembered where I was. Sheila was spooned behind me, her thighs tucked up behind mine as she caressed my shoulder. Her breath was hot and wonderful on the back of my neck. The combination of her exotic perfume and the scent of her hair made me feel so content as I smiled in the dim light of our room at the Freeling Hotel.

"You're cute when you sleep," she said into my ear.

"I thought I was cute all the time?" I said with a mock hurt.

"No," she kissed the back of neck, her body so soft against mine, "You're irresistible all the time."

"Now is no time to suck up," I said, never before having been so genuinely flattered. It was amazing and strange at the same time, being here with a woman who was not only the most attractive I had ever seen, and maybe the end all be all of lovers for me at the age of eighteen, but also the mother of my best friend.

Sheila was quiet for a moment. "It's wrong what we're doing, you know."

"All four times tonight?" I asked, "Should I have done the swirly thing with my tongue when I went down on you that last time?"

"No," she laughed, hugging me close, "I mean this...us... right now I feel like this is like being in bed with Dustin Hoffman."

"Which movie was that?" I smiled to myself, "Uh, 'Rain Man', right?"

"No," she grinned.

"Hook?"

"What?" she laughed again.

"Oh wait, I know this one. It's a classic," I said as I rubbed her thigh, "Marathon Man?"

"You're a geek."

"Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson," I said as I reached over to the nightstand and took a drink of water.

"Can you be serious for a minute?" she kissed my shoulder, "Please?"

"Absolutely," I smiled, although I didn't really want to see where this was going if she was going to start feeling guilty.

"Doug, I feel like I'm fucking you over."

"Well, you sort of are... four times tonight so far..."

She smiled despite herself. "You know what I mean. You're eighteen years old, and I'm old enough to be your mother. I'm forty-five. If anyone ever found out..."

"No one is going to find out," I reassured her, pulling her close to me as I turned to face her. She rested her head on my chest as we settled and got comfortable.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Do you think anyone here recognized us? Do you think anyone here even cares? We're an hour away from everyone and everything we know. I think we're safe."

There was a moment of silence between us.

"I just don't want you to regret any of this," she said softly, her vulnerability thick like a heavy smoke, encircling her.

"Sheila," I said, trying to pick just the right words, "This is the best thing that's ever happened to me. The only thing I regret is that it didn't happen sooner."

Sheila chuckled. "Any sooner, and it would've been considered an expression of pedophilia."

I felt her body shift against me, the heat of her leg draped across mine, the warm wetness of her crotch against my skin and the pressure of her large, perfect breasts. It was a feeling that years later I would look back on as being the first time I ever felt really secure. I felt safe with her, free of doubts or inhibitions about myself. Sheila made me feel confident and sexy, she made me feel like I was someone special and she did it all without even knowing she was doing it. It was like a second nature to her.

"Tom isn't coming back," she said bluntly, and I could feel her physically wince as she said his name, as if the words were razor blades tearing her throat apart as they left her mouth. "He packed up all his things and was gone by Wednesday evening. Elle took it really hard. She hasn't said a word to me since."

I frowned. "She hasn't said anything to me about it, either. You'd think being her best friend would count against keeping secrets."

Sheila looked at me slyly. "Do you tell Elle everything?"

"Touché."

"I don't know what to do," Sheila sighed, "Everything is falling apart."

"You can't look at it that way," I said as I ran my fingers through her silky, bronze hair, "Tom's a prick, and we all know it. He's been stepping out on you for awhile now, and he's tired of being sneaky about it."

"Sneaky?" she asked, "You know how many times I've found lipstick or perfume that's not mine on his shirts... and his underwear?"

"Shit, he wanted you to know."

"You think?"

"It's so obvious. He wants you to leave him, to get mad and walk out that way he doesn't have to initiate anything. Did he say he wanted a divorce before he left?"

"No."

"Well there you go. Then he can look like a victim..."

Sheila sighed. "I hate him, Doug. I hate him for what he's put me through. And he has the balls to accuse me of being the problem?"

"The guy's a fuck," I laughed as I squeezed her to me.

"A lousy fuck, in more ways than one."

"That's the spirit," I said, deciding to change the subject, "Now, its time for a exercise in self-esteem."

"Excuse me?" she looked at me.

"Your ego has been wrecked by that guy for years. Now repeat after me..."

"Oh my God," she giggled.

"This only works if you repeat everything I say and mean it."

"Okay," she rested her chin on my chest.

"Say, 'I, Sheila Crane, am without a doubt the sexiest woman over forty in the world, even sexier than Raquel Welch'."

"I, Sheila Crane, am without a doubt the sexiest woman over forty in the world, even sexier than Raquel Welch."

I nodded. "I have a beautiful smile..."

"I have a beautiful smile," she repeated through a laugh, proving to me just how right I was about that smile.

"My eyes are mysterious, my ass is round and firm and my breasts gleefully defy gravity..."

She laughed and hugged me.

"And say that I, Doug, am the best lover you're ever had. That my modestly large penis is the pinnacle of male achievement in a world of phallic obsession."

"Now whose ego are we building?" she asked, her hand sliding down my chest, under the sheets and to my semi-erect cock. She began stroking me, her thumb rubbing over my glans and making my balls tingle.

"I just thought I'd slip that in there."

"Well," she kissed my neck as she stroked my slowly hardening cock, "You are on your way to being the best lover I've ever had, Doug. That's no lie. And your cock is something special..."

"Oh go on," I rolled my eyes, enjoying the feeling of her hand job, "No really, go on. Keep going."

Sheila smiled. "You make me happy Doug, happier than I've been in a long time."

"That's what friends are for," I smiled, her fingers caressing my scrotum.

"You sure you're only eighteen?"

I nodded as she stroked my shaft to a healthy erection. As I lay there, I began to consider the very real possibility that Sheila was becoming more than just a friend to me. It was crazy; the very idea of our age difference would be laughed at and ridiculed if we ever took it beyond this. Maybe she was rebounding from her failed marriage? I figured maybe I was just caught up in the heat of our passion, carried away from common sense by our mutual attraction. But how could I help not being carried away by her? She was gorgeous, kind, smart and so damned sexy it could be considered a crime. 

But something had happened to me between the drive to this hotel and found fruitition the moment we began dancing only a few hours ago. When she put her hands on me, under that intense light and the beat of the music dictating our direction and pace, I let go of all control over myself. I was simply with her, both of us an extension of the other, moving together toward something much bigger than ourselves. I knew that I didn't know jack shit about the real world, and I knew even less about what a real relationship was, or what it even entailed. The only thing I knew for certain was she touched me and so precisely stimulated me that I was already missing her before she was gone.

I ached for her when she wasn't there.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Oh," I laughed, "I was just thinking about you."

"And what were thinking?" she purred as she kissed my neck, her hands warm and tight around my thick shaft, slowly pumping up and down.

"That you're amazing," I murmured as she slid her body on top of mine, my hands caressing her ass as the sheets pulled down. Her pussy was clean-shaven and smooth against me. Her wet lips pressed against me as she necked on me.

"Keep going," I felt her smile against my neck as she moved a little more and positioned her pussy on my shaft, grinding herself against me. I massaged her breasts slowly as we rubbed against each other. She was deft in every move, her every lick and touch a perfectly targeted erotic missile setting me on fire.

"I've never wanted anyone more than I want you."

"Mmmm, nice," she raised a brow and grinned wickedly at me as she began kissing her way down my chest, running her tongue over my pecs and nipples. As she went down, her breasts dragged on me and sent a shiver through my body. She stopped when her tits reached my cock, their silky smoothness against my shaft a sensation unlike any I had ever known before. 

"Here Doug," she said as she sat up on her knees, her body absolutely glowing in the pale lighting of the room, "Let me lay down, and you just straddle me."

As we switched positions, I stupidly asked, "Why?"

She regarded me with a hint of playful sarcasm. "You do know how to tit-fuck?"

"Of course," I replied as she settled in on the mattress. Her hair splayed out from her head like a dark shiny fan, her eyes looking at me expectantly as she cupped her breasts and squeezed them together. Her nipples poked out from between her fingers as I put one leg over her and straddled her torso. My balls rested against her smooth skin as I lowered my painfully throbbing seven and half inch cock between her tits. She pushed them together and I shuddered as their warmth enveloped me. I looked down and saw the head of my cock just barely peeking out of her cleavage, a shiny droplet of anticipatory pre-cum oozing out.

I began to slowly thrust against her tits, being careful not to crush her rib cage as I went. With each thrust, my cock would emerge from the crevasse of her breasts and she would quickly suck on me before I pulled back. The contrast of my swollen, almost purple head against her milky white flesh burned into my memory as the mixture of my pre-cum and her saliva lubed up my passage. Her tits seemed to roll and jiggle with every movement, her nipples erect like two dark rocks on twin white sand dunes. 

"Yes baby, just like that," she smiled as I started thrusting a little faster.

"Oh Sheila," I managed as I felt my body preparing for the inevitable conclusion.

"I want you to cum for me, Doug," she whispered, her eyes burning into mine.

"Yes," I whispered.

"I want you to cum on my tits," she breathed, and just hearing her say that made me kick up my pace a notch. I had seen a lot of porn flicks where women moaned that phrase to men, and it was always a superficial turn on. But this was different. There was emotion behind the words, powered by passion and need. When Sheila said the words, with her sultry voice and the lust I felt behind her words, it was irresistible. She licked my head quickly again and said, "Cum on my face, Doug. I know you want to."

"Yes," I moaned, unable to think of any other reply as her words began to carry me away. 

"Cum for me Doug," she moaned.

I tried to yell out as I came, my fifth one for the night, but the combination of a slight rawness to my cock and the tingling of the orgasm only allowed for a gasp of air. My semen exploded across her neck and chin in a long, white rope of cum. I spurted again and again, releasing only a fraction of what I had done earlier, but still soaking her enough to make a mess.

"I don't know how much more I can take," I huffed as I began to lose my erection between her tits.

"Now Doug," she ran her hand up my stomach lovingly, "You're not winded are you?"

"No," I collapsed on the bed, settling in close to her, and then added, "Yes."

"I'll bet I can get you up for another round."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah?"

"How?" I asked. I opened my eyes as she propped herself up on one arm. With her free index finger, she wiped up some of my cum off her neck, raised it to her lips as licked it off. She let me see my cum on her tongue for a moment before she swallowed it, and I felt my cock twitch. She then took her finger and scooped more of it off her neck and chin, and then rubbed it over her nipple. She began teasing the nipple between her thumb and forefinger, rolling the wet nub back and forth.

"I want you to make love to me, Doug," she whispered, her honesty and need so apparent that it made my heart break. It was the first heartbreak I'd ever known that hurt in a good way.

I kissed her without a word, and when my cock was ready, I entered her again and lost myself willingly to her once more.

***

A week later, Tom still hadn't called Sheila to let her know where he was, and Elle still hadn't said a word. I made it a point to be over at Sheila's as much as I could, and as my final weeks of high school grinded out, I found myself less focused on my college endeavors. As a protest to the break-up, Elle had taken to staying with friends and pretty much telling her mom to fuck off, sometimes literally. And because she was eighteen, Sheila couldn't do much about it. I got the impression that Sheila had reached a point where she felt she shouldn't do anything about it. I could see the beginnings of a depression hanging over her head, the first warning signs appearing when we left the hotel and said our good-byes for the day.

So I did my best to cheer her up as much as I could. With the house being empty in the evenings, we made in love in almost every room. We re-christened the kitchen the day after our return from them city and made sure not to destroy the new table she had just bought to replace the old one. Over the next few days, we made a mess of the bathroom, bounced on every step of the staircase, tested every spring in every bed and managed to make our way from the living room to the garage. We must have used over twenty condoms that week, which to me was a world record.

That next Sunday, I got a call from her around six in the evening as my mother washed the dishes and my father watched the evening news.

"What's up, Sheila?" I asked, standing close enough to be within in earshot of my mother, "How's it going?"

"Is your mom nearby?" she asked.

"Yep," I said.

"Okay," she said, "How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"How's your cock doing?"

"Hard," I smiled, "But most graduation preparation is."

"Would you let me suck it later on tonight?"

"Oh absolutely."

"God, you are good for the ego," she smiled, "Listen, I just got a call from Tom..."

"Oh no," I frowned, "You got rats?"

"A big one," she laughed, "He's shacked up in the city with an old girlfriend, and he wants to talk to me."

"Don't be intimidated by rats."

"No, I'll be okay," she said, "I just need you to come over and keep an eye on the plumber, make sure he doesn't smell my underwear or steal anything."

"Will I get paid for this?"

"Of course you will," she said knowingly.

"I'll be right over."

I excused myself and drove the Sheila's house. When I arrived, there was a large white plumbers van in the driveway, still brilliantly white as dusk settled. I parked on the corner and hurried up the walkway, dressed in shorts, a t-shirt and sandals. I took a deep drag on my smoke and then crushed it out on the sidewalk. Sheila was inside, wearing her gorgeous yellow sundress with her hair pulled up and back. 

"Hey you," she smiled as she led me through the kitchen and into the garage. Once the door had shut, she put her arms around me and we began kissing feverishly. My hands cupped her ass as our tongues rolled and caressed with each other.

"So what does Fuck Face want?" I asked, still holding her.

"He wants to discuss Elle," she shook her head as we kissed.

"Any word from her?"

Sheila broke the kiss.

"No," she lowered her eyes quickly, trying to hide the glassy sadness that was welling up at their corners.

"I've seen her at school at a few times, but she's been distant."

"I don't know what to do, Doug."

"Hey, just keep doing what you're doing right now. She'll come around. You want me to talk to her, loosen her up for you?"

"Can you even find her?"

"If I can't, then Brett will. Okay?"

She smiled, a fat teardrop running down her cheek. "Okay."

"Now, go and see what asshole wants and come home quick."

"Keep the plumber away from my panties."

"How can he get your panties when I'm smelling them all simultaneously?

"Good point," she laughed and then ran her hand over my crotch, "When I get back, I'll pay you for services rendered."

"I expect interest..."

"I can handle that."

We kissed briefly, and then she left. I spent the next two hours on the couch, watching the television and getting hornier by the minute as I fantasized about Sheila. The plumber left around 8:30 that night, and as I watched him drive away, I felt relieved. It meant that when Sheila got back, we wouldn't have to wait. I took the paper work he had filled out for her and put it in the kitchen. As I poured myself a glass of milk, I heard the door open.

"Is that you?" I called, taking a long chug from the glass.

"Doug, what are you doing here?" Elle asked me, standing in the entry between the kitchen and living room. She was dressed as I was, in a t-shirt and shorts, but a t-shirt on her was a like a t-shirt on her mother. Even at a large size, it was still stretched out from her huge tits, and I found myself gawking for a moment. Coupled with the shock of her showing up suddenly, I simply looked at her dumbfounded for a moment.

"I'm-" I began as I set the glass down, thankful I hadn't assumed it was Sheila and said something I would have regretted, "I'm here to talk to you."

"You could have talked to me at school," she said, still uncertain of my presence in the house with no one home.

"Yeah, you're right," I nodded, "But I wanted to catch you here."

"I haven't been here in over a week, and you just happened to be here when I show up?"

"Your mom asked me to talk to you," I said, gesturing for her to sit down at the table, "She had a plumber working on the upstairs bathroom and needed someone to watch the guy while she ran out real quick. So here I am."

"What did she want you to say to me?" Elle asked as she sat down. It amazed me how much she looked like Sheila, their faces perfectly matched and her hair almost identical to her mother's bronzed strands.

"She's worried about you," I said as I pulled out one of my smokes, "Is it cool if I smoke in the house?"

"Dad always did, why can't you?"

I lit my cigarette and continued, "She hasn't told me all the details of what has happened, which is fine by me. But she has said how she wishes you wouldn't be mad."

"You and mom are chums all of a sudden?"

For a moment, I felt like there was a load of subtext to her question, but I played it off. "No, she just wanted to me to try and explain that she loves you very much, and misses you."

"Doug, you don't know shit about this situation, okay? And she should fucking know better than to involve my friends as pawns in this."

"I'm not a pawn, okay?" I said, "You're both my friends... I can't just watch you two lose each other because of your father."




The Finer Points of Sheila Ch. 03



"My father?" she frowned, "You think my Dad is the problem here?"

I felt the words slip past my mouth, even before I realized they were coming, "He's cheating on your mom, Elle. We all know it."

"And why do you think he steps out on her?"

"You got me, why?" I said, trying to suppress my anger.

"Jesus, you are naive," she shook her head, "Mom's been cheating on him too."

I felt frozen, cold and numb as I registered her words. "Bullshit."

"Oh?" Elle asked incredulously, "Turnabout isn't fair play?"

"You know for a fact she has been cheating?"

"I know someone who saw her do it just last week."

My heart seized in my chest. "Really?"

"Really, Doug."

"Who?" I managed, trying to keep the panic in the back of my mind from overpowering me. Did she know about her mother and me? Who could have seen us?

"Brett saw her and some guy at a hotel in the city while he was doing a deal."

"No shit," I said, my cigarette hanging from my bottom lip flaccidly.

"They were going into a room, and Brett just happened to catch a good look at her."

"Is he sure?"

"The man's got a photographic memory, Doug."

"Fuck me running," I said, standing up as I went towards the back door.

"Where are you going?"

"Fresh air," I muttered as I took a deep drag on my smoke, my head spinning and my heart hammering in my throat. Brett had seen us. It was impossible, a series of events so random and improbably distanced from each other that the odds of him being right there, at that hotel, on that floor, outside our room as we went in were inconceivable. I was ready to pass out as I walked across the wooden deck of their back porch.

"You okay?" Elle asked, close behind me.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied, "I just have a bad headache."

"You're taking it about as well as I did."

I sat down on the porch, my legs hanging off as I retraced our steps that night, trying to picture just how Brett could have seen us. I looked at Elle and said, "Could he be lying?"

"Why would he lie?"

"I don't know."

"Mom and dad are both fucking selfish, Doug," she sat down beside me, her thick hair hanging loosely about her shoulders, "I'm mad at both of them. But Mom, fuck she should have known better than to go and do something like that."

"But your Dad was doing it too..."

"Yeah, but my father is who he is," she sighed, leaning back on her hands, "I'll be honest Doug, I've come to a revelation about my family. I know what my father has done, what he has been doing. I know."

"So why defend him?"

"Because we only get one father and mother," she said, "And I guess I figured if I overlooked a lot of his downfalls I could get by. But it's too much now. Mom and I have never seen eye to eye, but I always took comfort in the fact that she was above playing his games. I always admired for not cheating, and now I find out that she's been doing it all along."

"You still don't know for sure," I countered, "If Brett was right, was that the first time she ever did it or not? You don't know."

"I know."

"Jesus, Elle," I said, "So she cheated on your father. Who's to say who cheated first? What if this was her first time doing that? Didn't you just say turnabout is fair play?"

"Maybe," she muttered.

"Why, Elle?" I asked, "Why side with your father in this? You know the truth..."

She was quiet for a moment, and then said, "My dad has a lot of power, and I didn't want to be on the receiving end of his anger, Doug."

"Did he ever hit you or your mom?"

"No," she laughed, her voice choked, "He... hurt us with words, with his games. I didn't want to live my life under that. I could see what he was doing to mom, how he manipulated things. So I guess you could say I sided with him to save my own ass, Doug. It sounds chicken shit, I know."

"Jesus, Elle," I shook my head, "I never knew."

"Of course you didn't know," she looked at me, "No one knew."

I was quiet for a moment. "You're not mad at your mother."

"I'm mad at her for what she's doing now," she replied softly and then admitted, "And I'm mad at myself for being such a coward."

I looked at her and put a hand on hand on her shoulder. "Elle, I don't know what to say."

"I feel like Mom let me down..."

I couldn't say anything.

Elle straightened up a bit, and looked away at the expansive wooden fence that cordoned off the property. I wanted to help her, to tell her that it was going to be all right and that this would pass. But I couldn't. I felt like shit, and I knew that anything I said to comfort her would be hypocritical and hollow. She was so hurt by what Sheila and I had done that it almost overshadowed the years of her father's sexual indiscretions. And if she ever found out that it was really me with her mom that night... 

"There's more, Doug," she said.

"I'm listening," I said as my brain pushed me to go running back to my car and flee.

"There's no easy way to say this, so I guess I should just come out and say it," she turned to face me, her dark eyes holding mine in a way that was both exciting and completely uncomfortable. Even before she spoke, I knew what she was going to say, and my mind screamed for her to shut up, to not say the words I had sometimes imagined her saying to me. Those adolescent hopes and fantasies about her had seemed harmless and improbable, and at any other time in my life would have been a welcomed dream-come-true. But right now, at this moment, I was filled with an ever-thickening anxiety and panic. She spoke before I could stop her, "I'm attracted to you."

My head was ready to spin off my neck like warp-powered top as I steeled myself, "What?"

"Doug," she slid her hand over mine so softly and gently that it made me shiver, "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, especially after that party."

"Yeah," I barely whispered as I took a humongous drag off my cigarette.

"You took care of me that night. You didn't take advantage of me when others did, and that's something I forgot. You've always been there for me, no matter what. And I guess what I'm saying is I think I'm starting to fall in love with you."

There are one thousand responses a man could give to a woman professing her love that are perfect, and I somehow managed to pick the dumbest one of all, "What?"

"I love you," she smiled. The world went into a slow motion blur as she leaned forward and kissed me. I froze solid. She pulled back, her face concerned and uncertain.

"Doug, you okay?"

I shrugged and smiled, nodding my head, "Uh huh."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I squeaked. I actually squeaked.

"Have I ruined things between us?"

I have, I thought grimly as I scooted back a little and said, "No, no of course not."

"Then do I smell?"

I laughed nervously. "No."

"Cause you're acting like I do," she looked at me, her vulnerability painfully reminiscent of Sheila. I wanted to crawl under the porch and die, never to be found again.

"No, you don't smell," I reassured her, "I just, have a lot going on right now, Elle..."

"The girl you met at the party?" she asked, her voice laced with jealousy.

"Yes," I replied, "But also there's also college, and the last week of school, graduation... you know, there's a lot going on."

"What's her name?"

"Sarah," I lied immediately, hoping that I could find a way out of this before Sheila came back. I remembered a moment later I had told Brett her name was Judy. I looked through the window behind us, and saw the digital VCR display from the corner of the living room. Sheila would be back soon, within a half hour at the most.

"Is she pretty?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Do you love her?"

I looked at Elle, honestly not sure of how to respond to the question. I had been pondering this question now for a while, and the idea of falling in love with Sheila didn't seem impossible to me. As we had gotten to know each other more, I suspected it might be more an issue of inevitability than possibility. In the seconds it took me to think about my answer, Elle leaned forward again, put her hands on the sides of my face and kissed me. The kiss was deep and hot, her tongue sliding into my mouth and caressing me. I leaned back as a stab of guilt seared though my heart, but she only leaned forward with me.

"If you have to think about it," she said as she broke the kiss, "Then you don't."

My cock was beginning to swell and harden, the one part of body that knew no allegiance to anything except pleasure. Elle noticed this as she placed her palm on my crotch and rubbed gently. My heart had been hammering before, now it was on the verge of shutting down from the overload as a primal rush of lust flooded my body and tried to coerce me into taking her. Suddenly, I was keenly aware of all her attributes, of her milky skin and the large, perfect breasts under her t-shirt. I was all too conscious of her breath against my skin, hot and enticing as her hand gently kneaded my cock through my shorts. Confusion veiled my thoughts as I fought against my want for her.

"She could never love you like I could," Elle said as she crossed her arms and grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt, She pulled the fabric up and over head, her massive breasts catching on the shirt as she pulled. The bra contained them, but did little more than that. In the soft, blue dusky light of the evening, they were bright against the long shadows around us. She placed the shirt gently to one side and looked at me expectantly. I could only stare, knowing that I was about to cross a line that would most likely ruin my life, and any chances I had with Sheila.

"You like?" she nodded to her breasts. I had never seen them like this, and while I knew they were huge, I never imagined they would be this big.

I nodded.

Elle unclasped the bra hooks from behind and took it off, letting her breasts hang free. Her nipples were large and erect, pointing to me as if though they were choosing me, singling me out from some invisible crowd. I was breathing so hard, I was ready to hyperventilate as she rubbed her nipples and smiled at me, that cocky beautiful half-smile that she had inherited from her mother. As I stared at her tits, all I could think of was Sheila, and the look on her face after finding out I had fucked Elle. I could see the whole sad scenario play out in my head, and I wanted to cry at the thought of hurting Sheila.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I think," I croaked as I stood up, my cock painfully large in my pants, "I think I have to go."

"What?"

"Elle," I shook my head, my senses coming back to me slowly, "I... listen. You are gorgeous. And I am not going to tell you those aren't the breasts of the century, but I can't. I just can't. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" she asked as she put her shirt back on, her voice strained and shaky again. God, this was getting so fucking complicated.

"Elle," I began, and then found a courage deep from inside me I had never felt before. It was strange feeling, an electric revelation that arched so suddenly through my body that I shuddered. It was all suddenly so simple for me. I looked at her, walked over to her and sat down. I felt a genuine smile cross my face as I hugged her.

"I'm love with someone else," I said as I held her to me, "You're my best friend, and I love you so much. But I can't do this with you. It wouldn't be fair to you, me or her."

"Oh God," Elle said into my neck, "I am so embarrassed."

"Don't be," I said.

I let go of her and she smiled. "So when do I get to meet this mysterious Sarah?"

"Soon," I answered, berating myself for not remembering I had named her Judy, "When I'm ready."

Elle eyed me. "Keep your secrets then. But I better be the first to know."

I thought of Brett, and replied, "You will be. I promise."

We sat there for a while in silence.

We walked back into the house, and I knew it was time to leave. Sheila and I could pick up where we left off later, when Elle wasn't around. I handed her the plumber's papers and hugged her.

"Goodnight," she smiled.

"Are you staying here tonight?' I asked.

"No, but I'll wait for mom to get home."

"Be easy on her," I said, "Listen to what she has to say."

"I'll try."

"Okay, say hi to your Mom for me," I smiled as I opened the front door and stepped outside. As I walked out, I noticed that Sheila's car was in the driveway. Terror washed over me as I wondered if she had seen Elle and me on the back porch. I turned to go back in, and saw the light from Sheila's room turn on upstairs above me. My bowels loosened as my newfound feeling of confidence and happiness burned away under the heat of primal fear.

"And Doug?" Elle called.

"Yeah," I said.

"It never happened, okay?"

"Sure," I said and then hurried to my car. As I walked, I looked at Sheila's bedroom window, a bright beacon in the night. She had been home, and I knew she had seen us. I started my truck and took off going faster than I should have. It worried me that she hadn't said goodbye to me, and it only strengthened my fear that she had seen us on the back porch and was pissed off. Or worse, hurt and crying on her bed at the very moment I sped away from her. I cursed myself for not having stopped Elle from taking off her shirt and bra.

***

When I got home my parents were already asleep. I slipped into my bedroom and flopped on the bed, feeling miserable and sick.

"She saw us, I know it," I moaned into the blankets, "FUCK!"

I reached for the phone, ready to call Sheila and find out for certain. I couldn't live like this. I wouldn't last another hour without knowing if she knew or not. I kept telling myself that I hadn't done anything wrong, that I hadn't cheated on her or betrayed her. I had faced the temptation of one of the hottest women I had ever seen and won. I had walked away with my honor and integrity.

"So why do I feel like shit?" I asked no one as I put the phone back in its cradle, "If you call her, you're only going to make it worse. Let her call you. Don't be a choad, okay?"

"Okay." I answered myself.

The phone rang and I nearly jumped out of my skin and through the ceiling. I hesitantly reached for the phone to answer, and after the fourth ring, I picked it up.

"Hello," I said, trying to sound casual, expecting to hear Sheila's voice.

"Hey man," Brett said.

"Hey," I said, disappointed and yet somehow relieved that it was Brett and not Sheila on the other end of the line.

"Haven't heard from ya in awhile," he said, "Everything okay?"

"Fine," I said, "And yourself? Haven't heard much from you either."

"Been busy."

"Uh-huh," I frowned. I knew where this was going.

"So how was your date with the mystery girl?"

"Spectacular, Brett."

"I'll bet.

"How was your drug deal at the Freeling Hotel?"

Brett was silent for a moment. "I didn't tell her I saw you."

"You told her you saw her mom with somebody," I said, trying to keep my anger in check.

"Dude, you're fucking Elle's mom. What the fuck is that?"

"None of your fucking business."

"I am all for MILF's, man. But this is fucking Sheila Crane. She's your best friends mom, what the fuck are you thinking?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," I said.

"Then explain it to me."

"Brett," I growled, "That family is breaking apart, and you had to go tell Elle her mom was fucking around?"

"And what are you doing? You're doing the actually fucking!"

"It's not just fucking, Brett," I hissed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, 'having sex'."

"I love her, you stoner-fuck," I yelled, not caring who heard me anymore.

"Listen to yourself," he laughed, "You love her? Are you fucking blind? She's twice your age, you stupid asshole. And she's married, with a daughter who has the hots for you. Are you trying to fuck yourself over?"

"Shut up, Brett."

"No," he snapped, "Elle is one of my best friends, and I can't just sit here and watch this shit happen. What if it was your Mom out fucking some guy from school, like Brad or Dave? How about that? Wouldn't you want to know?"

"It's not the same thing."

"It is!"

"Let this alone," I warned.

"I won't let you do this to Elle. It's wrong."

"I'm getting a lecture from the biggest fucking dealer this county has ever seen on morality?"

"Whatever."

"No, fuck you, Brett," I snarled and then said, "You listen here. I'm going to make this so fucking simple for you. You tell Elle about Sheila and me and I'll go to the cops about your night job."

Brett said nothing.

I said, "You're going to call Elle right now and tell her that you were lying about seeing her mom at the Freeling. She's at her mom's house right now. You do it or I talk to the police and give names. I will fuck you so hard your next of kin will feel it. I'll fucking destroy you, Brett. Understand?"

There was only silence on the other end of the line.

My hand was shaking furiously as I raged.

"Brett? What do you say?"

"We used to be friends, man." He said quietly.

"We are, Brett," I replied. "But I won't let you ruin this for me."

"Fuck."

"Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes."

"Call Elle right now. Tell her you were baked, and realized it wasn't her mother. Do it now."

"All right, Doug."

"Now."

The phone clicked and went dead as Brett hung up. I laid back on my bed, eyes closed and my stomach doing flip-flops. I turned off the phone and just went limp, my body tired and sick with anxiety. It seemed everything had blown up in my face in an amazingly short amount of time, and where I had felt so certain about life not more than a few hours ago, I was lost in a limbo now. I prayed that Elle hadn't said anything to Sheila about what Brett had told her, and if she had, that Sheila denied it.

That was all I could do, really. Just pray.

...to be continued...



The Finer Points of Sheila Ch. 04



"The Breaking Point..."

EDITED BY:

Miriam Belle

CREATIVE CONSULTANT:

Simply_Cyn

Author's Note:

"Before you read this chapter of the story, I would highly recommend reading the first three chapters as well as "The School Secretary" (a small spin off piece with more about Doug, Sheila, Elle and the characters in this story). Thanks for your support!"

***

The heavy aroma of authentic Italian food soothed me to a small degree, but I still found myself ready to explode. Sheila had called and asked me to meet her here. She had said we needed to talk, and that it was very serious. For all her intelligence and beauty, her levelheaded sane approach to life, she couldn't just tell me she wanted to see me. No, it had to be a "serious" conversation that couldn't wait. It was like she was torturing me. Unintentionally, I'm sure. But torture nonetheless.

The only thing I knew for certain as I sat at the small table was that my craving for a cigarette was reaching a crisis point.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I muttered to myself, breaking one of the long breadsticks in half and drumming the pieces on the tabletop.

I thought of Elle, my best friend who also just happened to be Sheila's daughter.

The night Elle had come on to me had been a disaster. Growing up together, I had often fantasized about what it would be like to touch her large breasts, to kiss her and hold her. The irony that permeated the timing of her decision to tell me she had feelings for me was too perfect. On some level, I knew I loved Elle. That was a fact I didn't doubt for one minute. But I didn't love her like she wanted. She wanted to know why, and she had been dogging me for days on the subject. It was getting tiresome, and of all things in this world she could have asked me about, it was the one thing I couldn't tell her. 

How could she have known I was in love with her mother? What's more, how could she have known that I was sleeping with her mother on a regular basis?

"How could she have known," I said to no one. 

The music piping in softly over the speakers had been just shy of becoming an ethnic slur. I could imagine some greasy, mobbed up guy wearing a white and red striped shirt to compliment his thick mustache pushing a gondola down a waterway in Venice somewhere as the omnipresent singer on the speaker crooned out his love song. I picked out the word "amore" at least sixteen times throughout the ballad, and I started praying for anything else but this. 

Hell, I would have taken a song by Air Supply at this point.

The copper bell over the glass doors of the eatery rang out, and I looked immediately to the newcomer. Sheila walked in, looking painfully beautiful as she scanned the restaurant for me. Her bronzed hair was pulled back in a ponytail. The white blouse and black skirt she wore looked as though they had been tailored to her exact voluptuous measurements. She never looked to me like a 45 year old. And while I knew that 45 wasn't really very old at all, she just seemed to have a youthfulness to her that elevated her above those of similar years.

She took my breath away every time.

My heart jumped and suddenly my anxiety began to fade away. Her hair caught the warm orange and yellow lights that set the mood for the dining area, lighting her up as though she were glowing. Her dark eyes fell on me and she smiled broadly, raising one hand to me in a quiet greeting. At least she wasn't mad at me. Or, at least it didn't seem like she was mad at me.

"Hi," I said stupidly as she arrived.

"Hey you," she smiled, her full crimson lips stretched wide over her perfect white teeth, "Been here long?"

"Just got here," I lied.

Sheila sat down, and her lavender perfume rolled under my nose invitingly. I wanted to kiss her so bad, but decided to wait. I offered her my hand from across the table. She grasped it. "How have you been, Doug?"

"Terrible," I laughed, "This has been a nightmare."

"Tell me about it," Sheila sighed, setting her purse down and taking a sip of ice water.

"What happened?"

"After you left," she said, "Elle came to me and said she knew I was having an affair."

"Ah shit," I leaned back, needing my cigarette more than ever, "What did you say?"

"I denied it, of course," Sheila said, her eyes unable to hide the fact she felt bad about lying to her daughter, "But she said she didn't know with who."

"Thank God."

"It gets better. Your friend Brett showed up at the house. I guess he was the one who saw us at the Freeling Hotel that night. I thought he was going to expose us for sure, but instead he told Elle he had been mistaken. He said he made the whole thing up."

"Good," I sighed, fully relieved. "He's not a stupid as he seems."

"You knew?" she cocked her head quizzically.

I looked at her. "I found out Brett knew just after I left your house that night. He said he told Elle, and that she was going to confront you. I think he thought he was being all noble and righteous. Thing is, Brett was doing a drug deal the night he saw us together. He didn't tell Elle it was me he saw with you, thank God. But he was pushing for us to come clean. So, I threatened to turn him in if he didn't tell Elle he was lying."

"My God, Doug," Sheila half laughed, "Isn't he your friend?"

"Yes," I nodded, taking a drink of water, "But he was also threatening to destroy something very important to me."

Sheila smiled again, but there was a strange sadness in her look that made me uneasy. She looked at her water glass, "Anyway, Elle was fit to be tied. She actually punched your friend in the face. Knocked him out."

"But we're safe, yes?"

Sheila glanced up, her finger circling the lip of the glass. "Yes, for now. I still think she suspects something."

"Then we're in the clear on that one," I smiled. She wouldn't look up from her glass at me. I could feel something bearing down on her hard, and it was beginning to scare me. "Are you okay?"

Sheila smiled a little, but it didn't seem to reach her eyes. "Yes."

"You're a worse liar than I am," I eyed her.

"Elle is in love with you," she said flatly. 

My heart bottomed out, and I knew she had seen us on the back porch. I slowly spoke, "Did you see what happened?"

Sheila was silent for a moment. "Yes, I did. I didn't mean to spy on you two..."

"No, Sheila," I interrupted, feeling a real panic in my chest, "No, you don't understand. Elle came on to me, yes. And she did make a pretty strong pass at me, but you gotta know that nothing happened."

"She had her shirt and bra off, Doug," Sheila whispered, still not looking at me, "She had her hand on your dick."

"I told her I was in love with some else," I blurted out. God, this was not how I wanted to tell her that I loved her.

Sheila seemed to jump at the word, as though it had stung her. "What?" she managed, her voice choking a little.

"Sheila," I felt a hot blush in my face and butterflies doing the electric slide in my stomach as I searched for the right words. "I've fallen in love with you... I didn't plan on it... I'm so sorry. I know this is not what you need right now, with your divorce from Tom just starting and all."

The waiter came by and stood by us expectantly for a moment. I looked up at the cherub-faced teenager and shook my head politely. "We're not ready yet," I said.

He nodded and walked off, politely agitated.

"You're right," Sheila nodded, "We're not ready yet."

"Maybe we are ready for what's happening here..."

"No, we're not."

"It's not as crazy as it might sound...."

"Maybe I'm not..."

"Sheila, listen," I tried to reassure her, "I'm not saying we have to be an item or anything. Just please, don't let this freak you out."

Sheila smiled ruefully. "Here's a man telling a woman not freak out over 'I love you' and commitment issues... it's usually the other way around, Doug."

"I know."

"But then nothing has really been conventional with us, right?"

I nodded. I could feel where this heading already, and my heart was screaming at her, begging her not to say the words that were as inevitable as us eventually being caught and exposed. I suppose in the back of my head, I had always known that Sheila and I wouldn't last. There with so many hurdles in the way, how could it last?

"Doug," Sheila looked at me, her eyes red and irritated from tears threatening to flow.

"Oh, don't say it, okay?" I smiled, doing my best to hide my fear. I took her hand again.

"I have to Doug," she said firmly, "Let's be realistic here. You're 18 years old and I'm 45. The math doesn't add up no matter what. You have so much to do yet. You can do amazing things with your art, and you're going to go to college... You deserve someone a little more... fresh."

"You're fresh," I tried to joke, "You always smell great."

"Oh Doug," she shook her head, a mournful smile forced on her face, "It can't ever be. There are too many things at stake here. It would ruin our relationship with Elle, and you know it. Your parents would never understand. We'd be nothing more than gossip. A joke."

"How can you say that?" I stared at her. My heart split right down the center. It wasn't a clean break either, but rather violently jagged and sharp. My heart shattered, the shards stabbing at me and making me feel a pain I had never known. Hot tears threatened to boil over, and I held them down. I summoned all the anger within me and suppressed the hateful little droplets. I beat them back because I would not cry in front of her. Goddamit, I would not shed one tear. Because if one birthed itself and fell, then all of them would and that would be it for me. I needed to at least save my dignity.

If nothing else, at least that.

"I'm getting back together with Tom," she said quietly. The whole room seemed to go quiet. I sat alone in a universe devoid of sound and movement as her words echoed in my head. It was so silent in the following moments that the absence of noise seemed to become a sound in and of itself. It steadily became loud and pounding, relentless as it drove the point home to me.

"What?" I asked dumbly.

"We talked, and we're going to try and work things out," she said quietly, defeated. 

"Why?" I asked. She didn't believe a word of this shit, and neither did I.

"For a lot of reasons." 

She couldn't look at me.

"Why?" I asked again.

"He wants to keep the family together and..."

"Why?!" I demanded, the volume of my own voice bringing the outside world back to the field of my attention as the people nearest us looked up from their dinners briefly, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"It's just easier this way," Sheila told me. I looked, and saw her wedding ring was back on her finger.

"Do you love him?" I asked pointedly.

There was a long pause. "No."

I shook my head. "Do you love me?"

Sheila looked out the window, the night illuminated up by the lights of passing cars and sodium street lamps. Her face was reflected in the glass, faded and ghostly. Yet, there was such a presence there in just that reflection. Her intentions of hiding her feelings from me were as pointless as her trying to rationalize staying with that asshole Tom. She had turned away so I wouldn't see her expression, maybe to save me some grief, but failed nonetheless.

"Sheila," I said softly, "Do you love me?"

She choked by a small sob, her head still turned.

"I think you do," I ventured, the words suddenly rising from my heart and coming out with a conviction I had never felt before. Maybe it was a desperate act of trying to save my heart, or to save the relationship or even just to try and convince her because I couldn't live anything less than her love.

Sheila still did not look at me.

"That night we sat in the kitchen, something happened to us," I said, squeezing her hand and running my thumb over her finger, "At first, it was just lust... for both of us. I know it. Maybe I just wanted to have you and call it good. Maybe you just wanted to have a fling with a younger guy. Maybe our intentions in the beginning weren't the best. But something happened to us..."

"No Doug," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"That night at the hotel," I pressed on, "Something happened I never could have predicted. I think that's when I fell in love with you. I've never been in love before, Sheila. I wouldn't have known it from a hole in the ground. But I know it now. And I think maybe you've never felt it either, and when it hit you it knocked you on your ass. It scared you."

Fat tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Maybe we got together for all the wrong reasons. But I'm in love with you for all the right reasons," I said, my heart thundering in my chest, "I know you love me, Sheila."

There was another long pause. It might have been fifteen seconds, but for me it lasted an eternity.

She turned slowly, and her eyes locked with mine. She breathed in deeply and I smiled at her warmly, my heart hanging it's broken remains on her next words. She squeezed my hand, her lips pursed into a white line. Sheila held my gaze, and I tried to read her mind. If there was ever a time I wanted to know what was going on in someone's head, this was it. Her eyes told me she was holding back, that she was withholding something from me. And yet, there was resolve there.

And that resolve scared me to the core.

"Do you love me?" I asked again, my voice breaking, my eyes beginning to sting.

Sheila breathed deep and looked away. "No Doug, I don't."

I felt sick to my stomach. "Sheila..."

"I don't love you," she managed, her composure cracking.

I opened my mouth to speak, but she put her hand up.

"No," Sheila shook her head and stood up, gathering her purse up. "I can't do this anymore."

Sheila walked away, the entire restaurant trying to be casual about the scene unfolding before them. I watched her walk away, and felt my body go numb. My mouth hung open in a slack gape of shock as she went for the door. She was walking out of my life, she was ending this without giving me any option. I had no say so. I bolted up from my seat and ran after her, not giving a shit anymore about the people around me. I didn't care whether any of them knew my folks or people who were friends of friends. The grapevine could go fuck itself in the royally large superficial ass for all I cared anymore. 

I hurried out the doors, slamming them open just in time to see Sheila's car pull out of the parking lot and into traffic. She sped away and was soon melted into the flow of evening traffic. I stood there, dressed in my best clothes, with nothing to show for the last month other than a broken heart and love that could never be returned.

"Sir?" a voice said from behind.

I turned and saw the cherub-faced waiter standing in the doorway. I said, "Yeah?"

"Is everything all right?"

I looked at him for a moment. Was he serious?

"No, not really," I replied.

"Is your mother okay, sir?"

I glared at him, feeling a thousand horrible retorts threatening to leap out of my mouth. In the end, I just shook my head no.

"Will you be staying then, sir?"

"No," I said flatly.

The waiter could see my anger, but still kept talking. "It's just that we're very busy tonight, and if you're not using the table..."

"I'm done," I waved him off as I walked to my car.

I sat down and slammed the door shut.

I wasn't very surprised when I started weeping. It wasn't crying, or sobbing or having a fit. I actually wept.

***

That weekend, I sat alone at the food court in the mall. 

I had my usual meal from Carl's Jr. and found my appetite had died right along with whatever had been between Sheila and me. I hadn't seen her at all since that night at the restaurant, and I had made no effort to go over and see her. I couldn't bear to see her and that fuckaroo Tom together again. I could just see her faking everything with him, from morning breakfast to the midnight fuck, a smile plastered on her face like some Stepford wife. I could see Tom belittling her, cheating on her and passing it off for the logical actions of "a man with needs."

"Fuck me Freddy," I chewed on my cheeseburger. I glanced at the papers and booklet sitting on top of my sketchbook next to my lunch. The Art Institute had accepted my application and request for grant money. I had damn near a full free ride to the school, and I at least had that to look forward to. Still, the victory of getting into the respected school was overshadowed by the loss of Sheila. I didn't want it to be that way, but I couldn't help it. 

I tucked my acceptance letter into the back of the sketchbook and opened it. I flipped through the pages, watching my cartoons, portraits and random sketches fly by. The smell of the paper and graphite reached my nose, comforting me as much as it could. It was as soothing as the aroma of really good cigarette. 

I stopped flipping the pages when I came to fresh, untouched paper. I looked at it for a moment, feeling the need to put something down on it. My hand reached into the Velcro pocket of my cargo pants and withdrew my 2H and 2B pencils, along with my kneaded rubber eraser. I held the pencils for a moment, my eyes glued to the paper. I sat the unfinished burger down on the tray and wiped my fingers off on a napkin. Something was demanding to be pulled from my head, like a sliver embedded deep into a man's flesh. It had to be extracted and brought into the light.

I started drawing, beginning with only a single broad line. The line was the epicenter of my creative tremor. It shook through my hand and made my heart jump as I began sketching, the images coming to me as though they were being played on a movie screen behind my eyes. Soon, I could see a face, beautiful and kind, smiling back at me from the page. The woman's eyes were piercing and dark. Her locks had fallen loosely at her bare shoulders, and I madly sketched and smudged in the full body of her hair.

Her hand was covering one of her enormous breasts, a gentle gesture that was more deeply rooted in modesty than eroticism. But then, that had always been this woman's way; it had always been the truth of her very essence. She never had to try and be erotic, or do anything out of the ordinary to be sexy. She simply was erotic in the most natural simplistic way. Her other breast hung down, full and heavy, cradled in the crook of her arm. I could remember the way that breast looked. I had kissed it so many times, held it so many times.

Soon, I was smudging in and defining the shadows and tones of her skin, the dimensions of her body. I was working like a madman, lost in this sudden burst of inspiration that I couldn't hold back. I had to get this out now. I was oblivious to the people around me, and whether they were offended or not. It didn't matter. I licked my lips and created the image, my pulse racing and a sense of happiness rising from within. 

I needed that so badly.

"Hi Doug," a feminine voice said from beside me. I jumped, pulling my pencil back and away to avoid making a mistake. I looked up and saw Elle standing there, looking so much like her mother it hurt. She wore a blue flannel shirt and shorts, her legendary bust line and curves making the guys around us stare. Her hair, identical to Sheila's, hung down unrestrained.

"Hey Elle," I said, "What's up?"

She glanced at my picture and then at me. "Can we talk?"

I pushed the chair opposite from me out. "Please."

Elle sat down, her impenetrably dark eyes looking at the sketch. "May I?" she asked.

I handed her the sketchbook slowly. "Sure."

I didn't know what she was going to say or do. I'm a fairly good artist, and I know how to capture a likeness. Hell, that's what got me into the Art Institute. She looked it over, an odd smile on her face. She tilted her head and sat the book down between us. 




The Finer Points of Sheila Ch. 04



"Haven't seen you in awhile," she said, looking at me expectantly.

"I've been really busy, you know?" I said, taking another bite of cheeseburger. "I have a couple months before I start at the Institute. I want all my ducks in a row."

Elle nodded. "Of course."

There was an awkward silence.

Elle nodded her head to the sketch of her mother. "She's beautiful."

"Yes she is," I replied. "Does it freak you out I drew her like that?"

"No," Elle shook her head. "I can appreciate fine art."

"Thank you," I smiled, genuinely flattered and relieved.

"You know," Elle leaned forward, her elbows braced on the edge of the small table and a sly, knowing look shadowed over her face, "She never smiles like that anymore."

"Well," I shrugged, "Life's been tough for you guys."

"Yeah, it has. But, it's been really tough lately."

I didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry Elle."

"Why don't you come over anymore?" she asked.

"I told you," I frowned, "I've been busy."

"It's not because of me, right?" she asked, looking again at the sketch of her mother.

"No Elle," I reassured her, "It's not you."

"Then what is it?"

"You're worrying too much," I laughed, trying to change the subject. She was acting like she wanted to tell me something, or like maybe she was fishing around for information. It occurred to me she might know something had happened between her mom and me, even without Brett's help. Seeing that sketch I'm sure raised some questions, and she seemed to have a few on the tip of her tongue.

"Doug?" she took my hand, her thumb rubbing my finger. It was such a unique, familiar gesture Sheila and I had shared that I had to fight the urge to jerk my hand back. But I didn't.

"Yeah?" I asked, feeling sick all over again.

"I know you and my mom have been seeing each other."

"What?" I laughed, trying my best to keep my composure. Inside, I was falling apart at the seams. Oh God she knew.

"She was the happiest when you were around," Elle said matter-of-factly, "And now she can hardly go an hour without crying. Don't fucking bullshit me here, okay?"

"Okay," I said quietly, resigning myself to inevitable. I was busted.

"How long?"

I sighed. "About a month."

"When did it start?"

"The night I brought you home from the party," I explained, trying to pick the right words, "You were drunk off your ass and had punched me when I tried to get you home, remember? Sheila, I mean your mom, cleaned up the mess you made of my face. And then we got to talking about how bad her marriage was and one thing led to another and... well, you know."

"I know," she looked away, her expression unreadable. "Was it you Brett saw at the hotel with her that night?"

"Yes."

"You made Brett change his story?"

"Yes, I did."

"How?" she asked.

"I threatened to rat him out to the cops," I answered.

"Jesus, Doug."

"I'm so sorry, Elle," I said, "I never wanted you or her to get hurt."

Elle paused for a moment, looking at the sketch again. "You know, dad treats her like shit. We all know it. And I love my dad, even though he doesn't deserve it. He's a fucking pig and I hate the fact that I love him sometimes. I don't think he ever really loved mom, and I don't think she ever really loved him. I don't know if they stayed together because they wanted me to have both parents, or if they were too scared to be alone or both..."

I said nothing. I only listened.

"One thing I do know," Elle said, "Mom has never been as happy as she was when she was with you. And I've never seen you change so much."

"I changed?" I asked.

"You and I have always shared a really good chemistry. I think we both know we wanted to hook with each other. You had the chance to cheat on her with me... and until now, lets be honest... monogamy wasn't really your forte," she said, "You used to be quite the player, Doug. I can say that because we can smell our own, right?"

"Yeah," I agreed.

"But when you said no that night, I knew that whoever the woman was in your life she must be someone amazing. That said to me you'd grown up a lot. I was impressed."

"I'm glad."

I was almost ready to pass out from anxiety

"I'm not happy you two hid this from me," Elle looked at me, "And I don't agree with it at all, Doug. I think you two need to have your heads examined. But all that being said, I know how happy you two make each other. And that's a rare thing."

I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say. "Are you saying that Sheila and I should be together?"

Elle laughed, her eyes rolled in disbelief. "Yeah, Sherlock. It's the craziest fucking thing this side of 'The Graduate' but yes I think so. Especially considering the circumstances."

"What?" I asked incredulously, "She getting back together with your dad. She broke up with me and sent me packing without so much as a good bye."

Elle frowned. "Dad is living in the city with his ex girlfriend. Mom signed divorce papers yesterday."

"What?"

"Doug," Elle looked at me wide-eyed. "Don't you know?"

"Know what, Elle?"

She looked away, suddenly embarrassed. "Jesus, I shouldn't be the one to tell you this."

"Well, Sheila isn't talking to me, so why don't you just throw me a bone here," I said, feeling angry, worried and happy all at the same time.

"I found a pregnancy test in the trash two weeks ago," Elle told me as gently as she could.

I felt my mouth go dry and arid. "And?"

Elle leaned in and whispered, "It was positive."

Fuck me running.

I sat frozen for a moment. "Oh."

"Yeah," she raised her brow and added, "Big Daddy."

"She's pregnant?"

"Yes," Elle said.

"This is why she blew me off," I groaned, "She was trying to save my future at the Institute. She thinks she's doing me a favor...Oh fuck. Are you sure?"

"Dead sure," Elle held my hand.

"Oh my God."

"Are you gonna be okay?"

"No!" I exclaimed and then said, "Well yes... but no... Ah shit!"

"What are you going to do?"

"What can I do? She thinks she's going to ruin my life."

"Go talk to her," Elle suggested, "She's home."

"You think so?" I frowned, uncertain. "Will she talk to me?"

"I think so."

I sat back in my chair, my mind running at about a thousand miles per hour. Sheila was pregnant. Ever single option, every single possible outcome of this situation raced in front of my eyes in a flash. I felt so overwhelmed I could hardly breathe as I accepted this fact. I knew in that moment my life would never be the same again, and the choices I made in the next few hours would dictate all the years to come. I looked at my best friend, desperate for advice and counsel on what the fuck to do. I had just impregnated a 45-year-old woman as I prepared to go to college. The woman I loved was going to have my baby.

"My parents are going to murder me," I finally said.

"Yes they are," Elle nodded sympathetically.

"I have to go and talk to her. This is too big," I gathered up my sketchbook and pencils.

"Doug," Elle grabbed my arm.

"Yeah?"

"Do you love her?" she asked, her voice so honest and tender that it made my heart break all over again, but in the best way possible.

I smiled. "With all my heart."

Elle smiled the first genuine smile I had seen on her face in a long time. She motioned for me to leave and said, "No matter what happens, you can count on two things: I'll always be here for you... and I will never call you Dad."

I laughed. "Thank you."

I kissed her on the cheek and ran for the parking lot.

***

I hit my knee on the corner of Sheila's house so hard as I ran up to the door that I had to hop on one foot. I cursed the whole way up the walk and braced myself on the doorjamb as I knocked. I waited a few minutes and there was no reply. I knew she could see me from the peephole in the door. I knocked again, this time harder and louder. I knew the neighbors might see me, but I didn't give a fuck.

"Sheila?" I called, "Sheila, it's me, Doug. Open up, okay? We need to talk."

Nothing from behind the door.

"Sheila, come on..."

I decided to go for broke.

"Look," I said into the door, "I know Tom is still in the city and he's not coming back."

No response. The birds in the oak trees lining the property chirped and squawked their opinion. 

"Sheila," I breathed, resting my forehead against the cool wood of door, "What do you think you're going to prove by doing this?"

From behind the door finally came, "Please go home."

"I am not going home," I glared at the door, "You've never treated me like some fucking kid until now. Are you dismissing me, Mrs. Crane?"

"It's not like that, okay?" she said, her voice muffled and barely audible from behind the door. "Don't make this harder than it has to be, Doug.

"Open the door," I stood back. "Please?"

Silence.

"Sheila, at least hear me out... then I'll leave for good. Okay?"

The lock disengaged and the door slowly creaked open. From the narrow sliver of space between the door and frame, I saw her standing there. She wore a baggy t-shirt and shorts, her hair disheveled and her eyes bloodshot and puffy. Her face was placid and yet pained all the way across. I looked over her shoulder and saw a large box of tissues and a huge box of chocolates. Part of me smiled inside.

"Don't do this," I said.

"Doug," she closed her eyes, tired and worn out, "You don't understand."

"Elle told me about the pregnancy test," I shot at her. I didn't want to give her time to think or counter. I wanted her off balance and forced to look at the truth. Her eyes grew wide with recognition as I spoke, and she knew she had been caught.

"She had no right," Sheila began, her fist balled up as she leaned against the frame.

"Maybe she didn't," I agreed, "But she figured it out, Sheila. She knows about us. She knows everything."

Sheila's face suddenly drained to ghostly white. "Oh no..."

"It's okay though," I smiled, "She didn't freak out. She's not happy with us, but she isn't going to kill us either."

That grabbed her attention for a moment, and I thought I had finally gotten through to her. But then she said, "That doesn't matter Doug. You're going to start school here, and you have so much to do. You can't be playing house with me and make your career happen." 

"Who says I can't do both?" I demanded, "I know you think you're doing the right thing, but come on. We crossed a big fucking line here, and we can't just hop back across it. And if you think I'm just going to up and leave because you're afraid of all this, then you don't know me at all."

"I'm not afraid," she said, unconvinced and without any conviction.

"Bull shit," I laughed, "You're as scared as I am. I'm terrified right now."

I put my hands on her shoulders, wedging the door open some more.

"I wasn't expecting this," she whispered, and then after a moment, "I don't want you to resent me..."

I moved close to her and tilted her face up to meet mine. "I love you, with all my heart. I'm not leaving you."

"But the Art Institute," she reminded me.

"I can commute. It's not that far a drive. And besides, you're worth it," I replied flatly and gently placed my hand over her stomach, "And so is this."

Sheila said nothing.

"I love you," I told her.

Sheila looked at me. "I love you too."

I leaned in and kissed her. She pulled me close to her and I had never felt so safe in my entire life. Her hands held to me with a need that was more intense than any I had ever felt from her. Our kisses were long and embellished, saying everything we couldn't say to each other and sealing our commitment to each other. I was still scared. I was scared of what my family would say about all this and of the unknown future. But with Sheila, I felt like I could face it all with strength.

We shuffled into the living room, still joined at the lips. Our tongues grazed and slid together with a hot passion. My cock had become rock hard simply from kissing her, and Sheila was already rubbing her palm over the bulge in my jeans. She took extra care to make her breasts press against me firmly, to make their soft pressure known. My hands ran through her hair, caressing her neck and pulling her deeper into the kiss.

"Are you sure about this, Doug?" she asked, breaking our kiss, her hand still rubbing me.

"Absolutely," I smiled, my fingers running along the inside of her t-shirt, tugging and pulling.

"It's not going to be easy," she cautioned me.

I shrugged. "We'll manage."

Sheila raised her arms up and I pulled her shirt over her head. I tossed it away and marveled at her impossibly large breasts, the familiar milky quality to them. I leaned forward and kissed them, licking and suckling slowly, simply enjoying her silky skin and the hard buds of her nipples. I took her left nipple into my mouth and rolled my tongue along it. She murmured her approval and ran her hands up and down my back as I guided her to the couch and continued sucking on her.

My hand found its way over her right breast, cupping and massaging it for a few moments before I slid down over her stomach, around to her hips and to the elastic waistband of her shorts. Sheila slid her bottoms off, and as with her wearing no bra, she wore no underwear now. Her beautiful, shaven pussy was glistening with moisture. Her particular musk was heavy as I dragged my tongue lower from her breast to her navel. I inhaled her deeply, taking her in and relishing every moment of being down there.

Sheila smiled lovingly at me and leaned back against the couch as I braced her thighs on my shoulders. I kissed the tender flesh of her inner thighs and licked my way up to her slit. I slowly dragged my tongue over the soft, warm mound and tasted her sweet sex. She moaned a little and I began lapping at her cunt, playing with and teasing the folds as she became more and more wet. I started slipping my tongue into her hot interior, working it in circles. Sheila shifted her weight and cupped her breasts, one in each hand. She started rubbing and pinching her nipples as I drove my tongue deeper inside.

"Doug," she whispered huskily, her hands unable to contain her heavy tits. I looked up and saw her face. Her eyes were closed and a half smile was on her lips as she played with her breasts, tweaking her nipples. Her hips began to work a small rhythm against my tongue, and that's when I turned my attention to her clit. The small love button was now hard and protruding out. I suckled on it and teased it. Sheila jumped a little, hitching a deep breath and moaning loudly now.

"Oh fuck," she muttered breathlessly. "Yes..."

I played with her clit, rolling my tongue against it, nibbling it and suckling on it as I slid a finger into her cunt and began gently going in and out.

Sheila's breathing was becoming hard and short. I slid my hands up to her breasts and took over working on them for her. My finger was wet with her juices, and she took a moment to suck my finger into her mouth. 

I rubbed and massaged her breasts as I worked for her orgasm. My only thought was of making her cum, making her scream out loud. I wanted her to feel good, to feel good about herself and about me.

I started flicking her clit with my tongue, my face soaked from her wetness.

"Oh Doug, fuck," she growled, "I'm going to cum."

Her hips buckled wildly as the orgasm shot through her suddenly, taking her off guard. She screamed out and gripped the couch cushions, bunching the upholstery in her tight fists. Her thighs squeezed around my head as she rode the orgasm. With every breath, she whimpered and moaned. This only served to turn me on even more as I listened to her throaty moans of satisfaction.

I licked my lips and eyed her. "How was that?"

"Long overdue," she laughed and motioned to me with her finger. "Come here."

I stood up and took my shirt off, tossing it across the room. She pulled me to her and we kissed again. She tasted her own sweet nectar as we kissed. She fumbled with my zipper for a moment and then pulled my pants down. They were loose fitting, so they just slid right down my legs. I kicked my shoes off and then my pants. She yanked my boxers down, still kissing me as we settled in on the couch. She grasped my stony seven and a half-inch cock with her perfect hands and began stroking me.

"That feels so good," I breathed into her ear.

"You know what else feels really good?" she whispered back, her thumb rubbing the swollen head of cock.

"What?"

"When you fuck my tits," she smiled.

"That's very true," I smiled.

"Fuck my tits Doug," she massaged my testicles, "I want you to fuck them."

I straddled myself over her, my heavy balls resting on her smooth abdomen as she grasped my shaft and placed it between her breasts. She pushed them together and my cock was gone, hidden by her fleshy tits. The sensation of all that warm, silky skin enveloping my dick was almost too much as I started rocking my hips.

"I may not last long," I managed as I watched my head poke out from her cleavage in time with my thrusts.

"That's the point, lover," she grinned wickedly, "I want you to cum quick. The first one is always quick. So just think about how good it's going to feel let go of all that hot..."

She was going to talk dirty. I couldn't believe it.

"... sticky..."

She was turning me on so much it almost hurt as my hips worked faster, under their own will and instinct.

"... tasty cum," she teased me, alternately licking my head as it popped out. She continued, "Don't you want to cum on me, Doug?"

"Yes," I breathed, my body going taut and rigid as I felt the build-up in my groin.

"Don't you want to cum on my tits?" she egged me on, knowing damn good and well what she was doing to me. "Would you like me to lick it off and swallow it?"

"Fuck yes," I managed.

"Then do it Doug," she licked my head again, "Cum for me..."

"Oh fuck," I huffed, my cock stiffening to a rigid rod of steel, "Fuck..."

"Yes baby," she moaned and then I shot my load. I groaned against my teeth as my orgasm arced through me like a bolt of electricity. I watched the long, ropy spurts of cum jet out from my head and splash her face, her hair, her neck and her tits. I continued to spurt gob after gob of semen onto her until finally the primal enthusiasm of my sex drive began to subside.

"My god, that was a load," she marveled and started rubbing my cum over her breasts, making them shine in the afternoon light. A long, stubborn rope of the white substance had come to rest on her neck and chin. She took one finger and scooped the semen up. She looked at me casually and then sucked it off her finger. She briefly opened her mouth just before she swallowed, and I could see my cum on her tongue.

I leaned down and kissed her deeply, my semen sliding wetly between our bodies. She wrapped her legs around me and kept my recovering member pressed against her pussy.

"You know," she said in between kisses, "We don't have to use condoms anymore for awhile."

"I think we didn't use them enough as it is," I commented.

Sheila laughed and gave me a look of such complete trust and affection.

"You want to fuck?" she grinned.

"Hell yes," I kissed her gently. We switched positions and she mounted me, not taking any time to gently let my cock enter. I slid in fast, clear to the hilt as she opened her mouth, gasping. I could tell I was stretching her a little as she slowly started riding my dick. She braced herself against me, hands on my chest, her pussy tight around me, her tits hanging down glistening with beads of sweat.

As we humped, the back of the couch began to knock against the wall. I heard myself moaning out loud, something I rarely do, as she fucked me. With each movement, she would give her downward thrust a slight spin, so there was more friction between us. I massaged her tits as we fucked, and her moaning became more and more pronounced. The effect was immediate as felt myself nearing the point of orgasm. Her fingernails latched into the meat of my pecs as I grabbed her ass, letting her tits bounce and sway.




The Finer Points of Sheila Ch. 04



Sheila was grinding her clit against me as best she could, working for her second orgasm before I blew. She kept her eyes fixed on me, intense and so deeply set ablaze with affection for me that it took my breath away. Her downward thrusts were not becoming hard and specific, her own method of bringing herself to climax. It seemed as if all our experience together, all our time and the love we shared for each other was being culminated in this single sexual act. Sheila never let her eyes leave mine.

"I'm going to cum," she hissed. 

"Do it baby," I moaned.

"I love you so much," she managed, dangerously close to her climax.

A few seconds later, her pussy spasmed wildly and she came down hard on me. She cried out in a single lusty scream, head thrown back and body tensed as she came. Warm fluid leaked onto my thighs and balls. Despite the overwhelming sensations sparking through her body, she kept humping me, not breaking our rhythm. Sheila quickly snapped her head back to face me and smiled.

"Cum for me," she growled in between her moans, "Cum for me."

The pictures frames on the wall behind the couch fell off and shattered as we became violent in our thrusting. I did my best to keep myself inside her as she vigorously fucked me. It was building to point to where I could no longer control it. With a yell I came and blew my wad inside her. My body tensed and I slammed her ass down on me, every muscle frozen as my cock pumped out cum. She leaned forward and kissed me frantically. 

We rolled over, my cock still throbbing inside her. She wrapped her legs around me as we kissed.

"Yes baby yes," she whispered.

"My god," I said, still reeling from the orgasm.

"Your parents are going to kill us," she cautioned.

"One thing at a time," I huffed. "One thing at a time."

... to be concluded...



The Finer Points of Sheila Ch. 05



"The Way Things End..."

EDITED BY:

Miriam Belle

CREATIVE CONSULTANT:

Simply_Cyn

Author's Note:

"Thank you to everyone who has followed the journey of Sheila, Doug and Elle. Your support, kind words and advice have been instrumental in this series being as well received as it has been. This chapter is a little bit longer than the usual installment, mostly to wrap up the loose ends and give the characters an ending worth the value so many of you have placed on them.

***

Morning had only crested a few hours before Sheila and I drove down the dusty snarl of road that led out to Perkins Grove. The tall oaks held onto the cool blue shadows of morning even as the ten o'clock hour rolled around. We were definitely out in the middle of nowhere, and the funky ruts of the worn road proved it. No one really came out here anymore except for high school kids looking for a party or professional photographers looking for a great shot and the occasional couple looking to get away for a day.

"Easy on the bumps," Sheila smiled at me as I tried to maneuver her car down the road without upsetting her. I looked over at her and marveled. She was in her fourth month now and looking gorgeous. Her belly was poking out in a substantial swell from her midsection and her sundress stretched out as far as it could go. Her skin had taken on a glow all it's own, but when combined with morning sun she looked like an angel. Her bronzed hair seemed to catch fire and smolder in a beautiful display of just how effortless her beauty really was.

"This road is for four-by-fours," I muttered as we hit another rut, "Not a Honda Accord. We should have brought my truck."

Sheila put her hand on my thigh, her touch warm and soothing, "You'll do fine. You always do."

I couldn't help but watch her already swelling breasts bounce as I drove. Sheila had always had the most incredible set of tits I had ever seen. Even when I was I kid, I would gawk at her. One of my goals in life had been to touch them and lick them, and when Sheila had finally decided to make the move herself towards that goal four months ago, my life changed. We figured the first night we were together was when she got pregnant, figuring back for months from the end of August to the beginning of May. 

Apparently, the motility of my sperm and our carelessness in protection had been ignorant of our unique relationship.

The age difference didn't matter to me much at all. She was forty-five and I was eighteen, going on nineteen. I suppose I should have been more interested in women my own age, but it just hadn't worked out that way. Even Sheila's daughter Elle, one of the most attractive girls in my graduating class, couldn't turn my head enough to cheat. 

Sheila had a unique quality that was beyond anything I had ever considered for myself. It was something I couldn't even really describe. The concept of her seemed to be above me, just out of reach. I couldn't find the words to express it, how I really felt about her. But on the concept of what she was I was perfectly clear.

So I would just say, "I love you."

And I did love her. I loved everything about Sheila Messing (formerly Sheila Crane, but after the divorce was finalized she took her maiden name back), from her perfect body to her tendency to snore to the way she'll snort when she gets rolling on a real belly laugh. I never expected to fall in love with Sheila, and I don't think she expected to fall in love with me. What was supposed to be a steamy May-December romance became something much more. 

It's funny how people will try to tell you that love knows no bounds, and that you can't help whom you fall in love with. I'd heard that from almost every one I knew growing up at some time or another. And yet, once our secret had gotten out with the revelation to my parents about or being together, all those cheerful sentiments had gone out the window. We had become social outcasts.

"Are we still going to meet with your dad tonight?" Sheila asked gently, her dark eyes looking to me as she stroked her belly.

"Yep," I said.

"He'll listen," she reassured me, though after their reaction to our great news I figured Sheila would be the last person on Earth to credit either of my parents with open minds.

I laughed, "He'll listen more than Mom will. 'You're living in sin' blah blah..."

"She's just worried, that's all."

Mom had been more than a little worried. She had been furious, very much on the verge of a conniption fit when Sheila and I had sat them down a few weeks ago to talk about our unique situation. After she had finished making threats about statutory rape (which didn't apply to me, since I'm 18) Mom retreated to her bedroom and I had not seen her since. Dad took it all with the usual silent distaste he reserved for most of my life choices. But then what did I really expect?

The fact that I had gotten someone pregnant months before I was to go off to college was an unforgivable mistake in their eyes. What's more, said woman was twenty-seven years older than I and also a close friend of the family. If I had known their response would be as volatile as it had been, I would have told them alone and not have subjected Sheila to their wrath just yet.

Still, they had kicked me out of the house when I refused to live under their rules any longer. Dad had taken the keys to my truck (which was really his truck as I found out) and I became acquainted with a new way of life. Thank God Sheila had let me move in with her that very night. Tom Crane had given up the house in the divorce for her not demanding alimony from him. Elle had little to say about it. She had already moved out and was permanently staying with friends. Though she and her mother had repaired their rift, apparently it was still too raw to be around each other.

"They just need a little time, you know?" I pulled the car over to the side of the road, beside which was an open field with tall grass that came up the waist of a grown man. I disengaged the car and turned to her, "I'm just a little worried myself, I guess."

"You think you're worried?" Sheila sighed, "I went to school with your mother. I mean, I used to baby-sit you for Christ's sake."

I smiled and ran my fingers through her hair, "Funny old world, ain't it?"

"Ha-ha," Sheila leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips.

We unpacked the trunk and walked into the field. I held her hand and carried the ice cooler while she carried the blanket. The sun felt good against my skin as we walked. It would be too hot later on the day to even be out here. It was an Indian summer, and the heat was only manageable sans air conditioners before eleven in the morning or so. The grass tickled the hair on my legs as we looked for a spot that was inconspicuous.

"There," Sheila motioned off to the left towards the tree line. The tall summer grass had long since abandoned its green spring colors and was melting in a golden brown. I could hear a virtual symphony of birds in the trees, whistling and humming their own songs and vignettes to each other as scattered crickets chirped their own melodies in response. Thick, cotton ball clouds rolled overhead and hinted that they might drop a little rain our way. 

"Think it'll rain?" I asked and sat the cooler down as Sheila stomped down a patch of tall grass with her feet. 

"Weather guy on channel seven said it might," she replied and looked up, her belly sticking out almost comically as she shielded her eyes from the sun.

Sheila spread the blanket out and we sat down. It took her a minute to lower down safely, and I helped her all the way. We smiled and laughed at her reduced mobility as the shade from one of the huge oak trees hid us in broken patches of shade.

She huffed and said, "I feel like a beached whale."

"But you're still sexy," I smiled and kissed her hand.

She looked at me, "You do know that when this baby is your age now, I'll be sixty-three?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "And I'll be thirty-six."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

I frowned. "Does it bother you?"

Sheila hesitated and looked away, "Doug, I just don't want you to regret this."

I scooted closer to her, breaking off one of the slender stalks of tall grass. I put the stalk in my mouth and began to chew, "Look, we've been over this..."

"I know," she said, suddenly a little irritated, "I know you know how you feel right now, but that might change when I start sagging and needing Depends."

I laughed. "You're out of your mind."

"I'm serious Doug," Sheila said, "I'm not a spring chicken anymore."

I looked at her for a moment, feeling both love and frustration. She had been grappling with this issue now since we found out she was pregnant. It hadn't been easy for her, and she had even tried to break up our secret romance to save me the grief of the baby and her perceived advanced age. In the end, I had to argue with her and even plead with her not to leave, to convince her that she was wrong. Part of me feared she would never accept that I was here to stay.

"Babe," I said as I put my hand on her arm, "You know that if I really didn't really want to be here, I wouldn't be. You're just going to have to come grips with the fact that I'm in love you, and that I want you and this baby and that I'm not going anywhere."

Sheila looked at me, her eyes a little glassy, "I feel so stupid."

"Don't," I ran finger down the side of her face, "I know what I'm getting in to here."

"Do you?" she asked and held my hands, "You're so young. You have your life ahead of you. I fell like I'm condemning you, Doug."

I put my finger to her lips and stopped her. I said softly, "It's you, Sheila. No one else will ever make me feel like you do. We'll deal with whatever comes our way, okay?"

Sheila smiled such a beautiful, perfect smile that it almost made me feel high, "Even when you have to carry my to the bathroom?"

"Even then."

"When you have to find my false teeth?"

I laughed, "We'll keep an extra set just in case."

Sheila kissed me suddenly and deeply on the lips, her tongue rolling with mine creating an intoxicating sensation that soothed any fears I might have brought with me to this perfect place. The whole world seemed to melt away and I felt a rare moment of clarity and balance. That seemed to be the core of our relationship when everything else was stripped away. We balanced each other out.

Sheila slid her hand down to my crotch and began massaging.

'Balance and great sex,' I thought.

I placed my hand on her exposed thigh and slid it up slowly along her silky skin to the bottom hem of her sundress. Sheila released a happy sigh and smiled at me as she opened her legs up for me. I looked at her knowingly and gently ran my fingers over the fabric of her cotton panties. I could already feel the heat and moisture from her vagina through the panties as I rubbed her. She gazed at me as I caressed her sex, lovingly teasing it with my fingers. 

I ran my fingers to the edge of the fabric covering her mound and after a moment of deliberate hesitation, I slipped beneath the fabric. I found her smooth lips, already swollen in anticipation and becoming deliciously wet. Sheila adjusted her position and opened her legs a little bit more as I teased her cunt, running my fingers back and forth. She rested her hands on her full breasts and began playing with her nipples through the fabric as I pushed my index finger slowly inside her. 

Sheila began breathing faster as I slipped three fingers into her hot interior and began a sensual push. Her fingers grasped her skirt and pulled it up over her pregnant stomach as I finger fucked her. I pulled her panties aside with my freehand and exposed her glistening sex to the sunlight. I let my index finger slide out of her cunt and concentrated on her clit, all the while my other fingers rocking in and out.

"You know just how to do it," she commented.

"I have a good teacher," I smiled and rubbed her clitoral hood, coaxing her clit to come out.

"Mmm, Doug," she breathed and licked her lips, "Keep doing that and you'll have a big wet mess down there..."

"I want a big wet mess down here." 

Sheila finally got tired of her dress and pulled it off, maneuvering off balance for a moment as she arched her back. The dress came off and I pulled her panties down all the way, setting them on the dress. She wouldn't need those for a while anyway. As big as her stomach had gotten, her breasts had swelled up proportionally as the pregnancy went on. They had been massive before, but now they had to be in the E-cup range. Only the marvel of engineering that was her bra held her milky orbs in place.

I had heard that some men find their mates unattractive during pregnancy and that the large stomach can be a turn off. I couldn't really see the logic to be honest. Sheila looked gorgeous, and I had never wanted her more than I wanted her right now. Something wet fell on the back of my neck and rolled down in cool trickle. I held my hand out and looked up. The storm clouds were sporadically clumped in the sky, patches of dark gray rolling against a bright blue. And then it began to sprinkle, the sunlight catching the raindrops and turning the world into a surreal dream.

"Now is this romantic or what?" I leaned in and kissed her, the subtle earthy scents from the freshly dampened soil below rising up into the air. The rain was quietly drumming against us as I held her. There were only a few times in my life I can remember a single perfect moment, but as the rain fell on us I knew this was one of them. 

The water rolled off her face in fat drops, her skin golden and shining in the luminescent rainfall. A small pool of crystal clear water had collected between breasts as her bra became transparent. Her nipples were hard and her areolas were a faded brown ghost behind the white material. Her hair had soaked already, and she brushed the strands back from her face with a simple sweep of her hand. She looked at me, her dark eyes alive with color as the sun caught in her irises and revealed her pupils to me. 

"You okay?" she asked.

"I love you," I said. It was an impulsive action, one I couldn't really control anymore than I could control how I felt. It just felt right to say it.

"I love you," she smiled, and then cocked her brow, "You know... we've never had sex in the rain."

"There's never been a better day," I said.

With that, I scooted down and lowered my face to her pussy. I began licking slowly up and down her slit, my tongue pressed firmly against the soft flesh of her sex. As I slipped my tongue into her and began exploring her inner sex, a roll of thunder rumbled overhead and the rain began falling harder. I lay on my stomach as my clothes stuck to my body and Sheila raised her thighs onto my shoulders. I gently spread her labia apart and passionately kissed the hot meat inside, flicking my tongue along the delicate path to her clit. Sheila moaned and resumed the massaging of her tits as I sucked her labia into my mouth. I swirled my tongue around her clit, nibbled for a moment and then returned to her opening.

Dragging my tongue down from her slit to the no man's land between her sex and ass, I decided to be bolder in my pleasuring of her. Sheila shivered from the touch of tongue and raised her hips to meet my oral gestures. I worked my finger in her pussy for a moment to lube it up and then I penetrated her ass. Sheila sucked in air as her muscles tightened reflexively around my finger. I didn't much care for anal sex, but Sheila had finally admitted to me that she loved it. And since I loved seeing her in the throes of sexual gratification, I slowly worked my finger in and out of her hole. 

"Oh God," she huffed, her breathing rapid and suddenly short. She pulled the straps of her bra off her shoulders and pushed her cups down to expose her breasts to the rain. She pulled and teased her right nipple while she raised her massive left breast to her lips. Sheila sucked her nipple into her mouth and began teasing herself as I lowered my lips to her pussy again and ate her out. 

I attacked her pussy, licking and nibbling her. I let loose on her clit, dancing around her hardened button as it came out from hiding under its hood and played in the rain. Sheila was moaning now, her body writhing as she pulled and licked her nipples, carried away by the flood of sensations in her body. Her legs began to tighten around my neck, and I knew she was close now. Every breath carried a lustful sigh and whimper of approval as I suckled and nibbled on her. I grasped her hips tightly and prepared as she cried out into the rain.

"Oh fuck YES!" she screamed and orgasmed hard, her hips bucking as she squirted her nectar out. Her cum dribbled down my chin as I continued on her clit. Sheila rode the lightning of her orgasm, her teeth clenched tight and eyes shut as she shook. Finally, she began to ease up, breathing hard and softly saying my name over and over.

"Oh Doug," she whispered, "Oh my God..."

Sheila looked at me and motioned with her finger for me to take my clothes off. She watched with hungry eyes as I stood up and pulled off my soaking t-shirt and dropped my shorts and underwear. My cock was swelling, erecting to it's full seven and half inches as rain spattered on my naked body. My nipples were hard and pointed as Sheila got on her knees and ran her hands over my slick torso. There was something so primal about the rain, so raw about our nudity in this open space that made me feel even sexier to her.

I knelt down in front of her and we began kissing, our arms embracing each other and our hands exploring. I could feel her hand grasp my penis and began going back and forth. She gently pinched my large head between her fingers and teased me as we kissed. I found her heavy breasts and massaged them as our tongues danced together. She always knew just how to make her hand jobs perfect, whether it be the specific way she would squeeze and pull on me or the way she would give my head a little twist with each stroke.

I kissed her cheek, down to her neck and across the expanse of her chest. Fresh rainwater lapped into my mouth as I ran my tongue over her flesh. I felt myself harden to my full length as I slid down to the valley between her breasts. The water drained down the crevasse of her tits like a flash flood in a ravine. It poured down her stomach and to her bare pussy where it clung for a moment and then fell in a stream to the blanket. Sheila ran her fingers through my hair as I suckled on her rock-hard nipples, teasing and loving them. She pulled my face closer to her glistening breasts, encouraging me.

"Fuck me," she whispered huskily and lay on her side.

I lay behind her and she lifted her leg into the air. Sheila took my cock firmly in one hand and rubbed my head around her hot slit, getting me lubed and positioned at her entrance. She moved her hips and the head of my cock slid inside her ass. We both moaned out loud as she moved her hips again and the entire length of my cock disappeared into her ass. I took a moment to position myself so I wouldn't slide out of her and began thrusting.

My cock sank into her tight hole to the hilt. Sheila reached back and grabbed my ass cheek as we started fucking, slowly at first and then fast as the rain poured down. Her skin was hot against mine and I would not have been surprised at all to see steam rising from our naked bodies as we found our rhythm. I cupped her breast in my hand as I fucked her, her nipple poking out from between my fingers. The fleshy mound bounced and jiggled with each thrust in a hypnotic display of her natural bustiness.

Somehow, we moved closer together than we already were. I could hear her breathing, her small feminine moans of pleasure that were slowly gaining in frequency and volume as I rammed my rod in and out of her. She released my ass and began rubbing her clit with a fury I had never seen before. Her arm jackhammered as she worked for her orgasm, the combine efforts of my cock and her fingers bringing her closer and closer.




The Finer Points of Sheila Ch. 05



I could feel my own orgasm rapidly approaching as the heat of her interior and the tight pull of her muscles electrified my cock. My balls were slapping and dripping a mix of rainwater and body fluids as we worked for a mutual climax to our lovemaking. I began grunting and groaning as I struggled to keep the dizzying pressure of my orgasm back. Sheila was screaming now as I relentlessly fucked her, my mind lost in a haze of pure sexual instinct. 

"OHHHHHH!" She heaved, her eyes wide open as her orgasm seared through her body. Her pussy spasmed around my cock and that was it for me. I squeezed her tit as my cock swelled suddenly, went as rigid as a piece of steel and ejaculated my load of semen into her. I felt myself shaking as my orgasm ripped over my body, tingling everything from head to my toes.

"Sheila," I whispered and withdrew from her.

"Yeah?" she managed.

"You're really good."

I pulled her to me as my cum began leaking out of her ass.

"It's raining really hard now," Sheila noted. I looked up and saw that most of the blue sky was gone now.

"Yes it is," I agreed.

Sheila looked over her shoulder at me, a mischievous grin on her face, "Wanna go again?"

I smiled, "Hell yes."

***

Sheila and I waited at the Starlight Café. I thought it was ironic that she chose the same restaurant we had almost broken up in to tell my father about the baby. Sheila told me that the restaurant just felt right to her, and that if she were going to be yelled at by an irate parent, that she should at least be able to have her favorite dish in the process. I couldn't argue with her logic. 

"He's late," Sheila said and squeezed my hand.

"Well, I'm sure he and mom had an intense conversation before he left the house," I replied and took a drink of my ice water. Mom had utterly refused to come here and meet. She had been appalled at the very notion of Sheila and I as a couple and it was her subsequent anger with me that had forced me out of my house. Sheila had allowed me to move in with her, but the fact remained that our secret was out now. The whole town knew who we were and everywhere we went I could feel eyes on me. It's funny how people will ignore someone they don't know until there's some juicy gossip or a moral question of ethics that's just too hot to pass up.

Sheila and I had become the hot item of discussion for people who didn't even know us. At first it bothered me. The way some people would glance over their shoulders while walking by or the odd little comments said under secretive breath in the grocery store checkout line. I wondered just how many of them were actually judging us based on our age difference and how many of them were just playing along with the popular moral code that says an older woman can't be with a younger man?

As Sheila had grown more and more pregnant, she had opted to stay home and out of sight. Her fear of what my parents would do had been ruling her. I figured some people had probably figured it out by now. I knew her friend Ellen Gordian from the realty office knew about it. It was Ellen who had taken over for Sheila while she went on an extended maternity leave. Sheila had also cashed in all her vacation time, which allowed for her to take almost a full year off from work. And, the fact that the boss was her cousin helped things too.

But when we walked in here and the people saw her belly, all of our careful secrecy and measures to insure privacy went out the window. It was inevitable, but I wish everyone didn't feel the need to stare so much. The waiters and waitresses were smiling a little too politely as they handed out menus and poured water. I think the constant scrutiny of the world around us wasn't bothering Sheila so much as her fears that it was going to bother me. She worried their opinions and heckling would change my opinion of her. So I just decided to stop letting it get under my skin. I loved her and that was that. If she had been eighteen like I was people might have found some other reason to complain and judge. In the end it didn't matter. People were going to think what they would. 

"Doug," my father said and scooted into the seat across from us. He purposefully ignored Sheila, who simply reserved her offense at his rudeness and smiled politely.

"Hey dad," I smiled warmly, "Mom wouldn't come?"

Dad looked at me and said, "You know she wouldn't come."

I nodded uncomfortably as Sheila said, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Well Sheila," my father picked up his menu and opened it up, "Sometimes its hard to adjust to change."

"I want this to be civil Dad," I said as he radiated his discomfort and irritation with me, "We need to learn how get along here."

"Doug, you're eighteen years old," Dad said flatly, "Until last April you were still reading comic books and building model starships."

"I still read comic books," I said.

"He's got me turned on to 'Spawn'," Sheila offered.

Dad put the menu down and sighed, his eyes pained and discouraged, "You think this is funny?"

"Not at all," Sheila said politely and met his stare, "It's unconventional, Roger. It may even be unorthodox but it's not funny."

"You are a grown woman with a daughter his age," Dad said pointed at me, "You've just been recently divorced from a difficult marriage and now you're honestly going to tell me that this 'relationship' is anything more than a spring-winter fling?"

"Dad please," I shook my head. This was already going bad and we hadn't even ordered.

"Listen to me," he said and looked at us both, "Doug, you are too young to even know what love is, let alone claim you feel it for someone."

"You know your confidence in me is under-whelming, Dad," I said. I had hoped he would at least listen to us and try to be fair about things.

"How much further must this go on?" he asked and leaned back against the dark fabric of the booth, "Will you two actually try to make a family and a home? What happens when Sheila here is able to get the senior discount at McDonalds when you are still in your thirties?"

"Nice," Sheila looked out the window and frowned.

"Dad come on," I whispered, "That was rude."

"It is the unpainted truth, son," he shot back, "Forgiving the fact that you committed adultery with a married woman, and forgiving the fact that you've been lying to us and everyone else can you really expect me to take this seriously? You have a future ahead of you as an illustrator Doug. You have college coming up and if you continue with this charade you'll be throwing it all away."

"I'm not asking for your blessing," I said, "And I'm not asking for Mom's either. All I'm asking for here is understanding."

"This is insane," Dad hissed.

"This is what I've chosen for myself," I felt my cheeks beginning to burn with embarrassment, fear and anger. People were starting to watch us as our conversation slowly became an argument. Dad's attitude had grown about as black as his charcoal suit and I swear I could have fried an egg on his forehead. I lowered my voice and said, "I know the score here, okay? I know the age difference and I know what it means to be in love. I know this is going to be hard, but Dad I swear to God she is worth it."

"Even at the expense of your future?"

"She is my future Dad!" I said a little too loudly. 

He looked at me with furious, smoldering eyes as his mouth dropped open a little. The man who at one time in my life had spanked me with a belt for the smallest of insurrections was focusing his anger on me. His fear was just as potent in my opinion. He was afraid of how he was going to look because of this. It wasn't really about Sheila or me or even the age difference. He was worried about the local PR and how he and mom were going to look. I felt my hands beginning to shake a little as I summoned my courage and spoke against my father, "You have no right to tell me what I need for my future."

"I have every right," he fired back, "As your father I have every goddam right!"

"Dad you're not even trying to understand this," I said as the entire restaurant casually listened in. Even the guys in the kitchen were peeking out through the swinging doors, their eyes wide with curiosity. I was struck with a sudden calm as I sat there. I realized I had reached a turning point in my life. I was aware of the decision I had to make now as I looked out across the sea of faces in the moody atmosphere of the Starlight Café. 

My eyes found Sheila and saw her looking as sad and despaired as the night she almost left me. She was being consumed by guilt and my father's penetrating stare. Sheila had come here hoping to mend the wounds inflicted on those around us because of this. She had hoped as I had hoped that maybe some common ground could be reached with my family before the news of the baby was announced.

Sheila began to cry as everyone watched. 

As my father ranted on and on about how irresponsible she was being and about how selfish she was to claim an eighteen-year-old boy for her own I felt my childhood fall away from me like a dead husk. I think back now and see that the moment of metamorphosis had happened in Sheila's kitchen that night an eternity ago. The process had been long and painful and wonderful. But the moment of my emergence from the chrysalis of childhood to the burden and joy of adulthood happened as I listened to the man I respected most berate the woman I loved more than anything else.

"Enough," I said quietly. Dad was yelling at Sheila now. She simply sat there, either unwilling to fight back or unable to. She looked overwhelmed and helpless. Her beautiful dark eyes were glassy and fixed on my father in a simple receptive stare, her bottom lips slightly pinched against her upper.

"... and if you think for one minute we're going to let you ruin his life then you're sorely mistaken," my father jutted his finger at her as though he were lecturing a child.

"She's going to have my baby," I said loudly.

My Dad looked at me, his jaw unhinged and opened wide. "What?" he breathed.

"Sheila and I are going to have a baby," I repeated. It was so strange feeling this calm and collected despite my anger.

"Oh Doug," he shook his head.

I looked around the dining room and then stood up. I don't why I did what I did next, and even now I wonder at my sanity. I suppose my youth and anger had fueled me to a point where I no longer cared about the previous ties of parents and friends and community. In retrospect, I can see that I wanted to both defend Sheila and somehow justify once and for all the validity of our relationship. 

I looked out at all the people in the restaurant saw that I recognized everyone there. Seated in the dim lights was the grocer, one of my old teachers, a couple of underclassmen and random faces that I had seen almost every day of my life growing up here. They were the backdrops to my life, and I addressed them all. They would carry my message as they had carried the rumors and hurtful gossip.

"You all think this is just a big game, right?" I asked as loudly as I could without yelling, "I see you all looking at us and acting like we're below you or something. What kind of town is this?"

"Sit down," Dad warned, his eyes blazing.

"I asked what kind of town is this?" I ignored him as the restaurant fell dead silent. I looked at all of them, my heart thundering in my chest as I spoke, "In the grocery store, in the library and in the streets all of you gawk and stare and laugh like we're freaks. Don't any of you have lives of your own? Aren't any of you happy?"

My father grabbed my arm and tried to sit me down. I jerked back and shoved him into his seat, knowing that I had made my point and ruined my relationship with him at the same time. He was shocked and disbelieving as muted gasps from the people around us hit my ears. Sheila was wide-eyed and unable to say anything as I fumed. I had had enough of the secrets and sneaking around. I believed with all my heart that Sheila and I were right for each other, and fuck the world if it didn't agree.

I turned back to them, "My father here is so worried about what you people think that he and my mother have not only thrown me out of my home, but have also come within a second of disowning me. He is ashamed of me! Maybe all of you are too. Or maybe it's just that all of you have nothing better to do than make fun of what don't understand. Maybe all of you just can't resist that good old fucking mob mentality. I know all of you... I grew up with all of you. I'm a good man, goddamit, yes I am. And Sheila is a good woman. Anyone who says otherwise needs to speak up now!"

Everyone was silent.

"Come on!" I shouted and glared at them, "You all don't mind whispering and talking behind our backs... so come on, step up."

Harold Weingardener, the local grocer and one of the biggest loudmouths on the subject of our situation was sitting at to the table next to me, looking down at his plate of spaghetti. I said to him, "Come on, Mr. Weingardener."

He looked up, his round face blushing.

"You always have an opinion, sir," I said, "Say it to my face."

His blue eyes met mine, both ashamed and apologetic and yet unwilling to allow an admission. Everyone in the establishment shared his expression of confliction, and I knew I was walking a fine addressing all the adults in here like this. I was only a kid, about that Dad had been right. But the fact that none of these so-called adults stood up or put their foot down about my outrage said a lot to me. It said they were all guilty of this and all of them knew it.

"Anyone?" I shouted again and looked around, "Either you say it now or shut the fuck up."

Silence.

"I've had it with the staring, with the gawking and with the gossip," I told them as my face burned and my hands trembled with pure rage, "It's giving me the shits! You all want some juicy gossip? You all want something to talk about to take your minds off your own lives for a while? How about this shit? I am in love with this woman-" I turned and motioned to Sheila, who smiled the most beautiful smile I had ever seen at me, "-and not only are we going to be together but we are also going to have a baby together too. And you can all be a part of that, or you can go fuck yourselves."

I looked at my father, my heart breaking into two pieces as my throat tightened, "You and Mom can be a part of this or not, Dad."

I offered my hand to Sheila. 

She slipped her fingers into mine and I helped her up. My father looked at her pregnant belly, his eyes tired and tinged with a hint of sadness. I saw guilt there as well among all the questions and feelings rocketing back and forth in his mind. He said nothing and didn't even look up as Sheila and I walked away. 

We left with our heads held high in the air. I was proud of the gorgeous woman beside me, and I was even more proud of the baby she was carrying. I loved them both so much. If I were going to hold to the speech I had given to the restaurant, it was time to start showing it. There would be no more secrecy or rumors. I had given them the hard truth and probably burnt a few bridges in the process.

But I didn't care. I had Sheila.

I opened the door for her and we stepped out into the humid August air as the people inside watched. I let the door close easily and we walked to her car. Her dress billowed a little in the evening breeze as I opened the door for her. She went to step inside and then paused and looked up at me. She had tears in her eyes and a smile on her trembling lips. She touched my face and said, "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen."

I thought for a moment, "It came from the heart."

"I love you," Sheila kissed me.

"I love you," I kissed her back.

***

FIVE MONTHS LATER

The doctor had finished giving Sheila her epidural shot when Elle arrived.

I was holding Sheila's hand as the drugs kicked in and she relaxed in the large bed of our delivery room. Her insurance had been able to cover us using one of the hospitals large private birthing suites. The room was lit in mellow yellows and painted in earthy pastels promoting a relaxed and calm environment. I was nervous despite the soothing décor, and I found myself even a little giddy as the moment we had been waiting for over nine months was finally at hand.

Elle smiled and quietly walked over to the opposite side of the bed and kissed her mother on the forehead. She said, "Hi, Mom."

"Hey, baby," Sheila smiled. The drugs were already beginning to keep her on an even, low-key medium. Sheila took Elle's hand and kissed it, "I'm so glad you made it here."

"Me too," Elle said and then looked at me, "How are you, Father-to-be?"

"Nervous," I said, "But happy."

Fifteen minutes later, one of the nurses came over and said, "Would you mind giving me a moment with your wife?"

"We're not married," Sheila said dreamily.

"Oh," the nurse smiled, slightly embarrassed, "We just need to check and see if the baby is still turned and get our stuff ready for the birth."

"Of course," I smiled and kissed Sheila on the forehead, "We'll be right outside."

"Only a minute," the nurse assured me as Elle and I stepped outside the delivery room.

The door closed and we were alone in the light blue hallway. I leaned against the opposite wall and took a deep breath as Elle stood in front of me. She looked beautiful as always, her hair hanging down loose around her shoulders in a thick, rich display of the bronzed red her mother had given her. She was dressed in simple khakis and a white t-shirt that framed and promoted her large breasts. I looked away from them, already knowing my genetic predisposition to gawking at huge tits. Elle sighed and then said, "So really, how are you?"

"Mom and Dad decided not to come," I shrugged.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Me too," I agreed and then added, "It's their loss."

"Doug," she began and then hesitated for a moment, "Doug I'm going away for awhile."

"Why?" I asked, suddenly feeling upset. "Where?"

"I need to get out of this town for awhile," she said and leaned against the door to the delivery room, "I have to find myself, you know?"

I nodded, "Yeah, I guess so... when?"

"Today, actually," she said and pulled a bus ticket out her back pocket, "I'm off to Sacramento and then from there, I'm not sure."

"Elle," I said, "What will you do for money?"

"I have five thousand in my college fund," she replied and tucked the ticket back into her pocket, "Let's face it, I'm not Harvard material. I think I'm going to see what's out there and then decide."

She looked at me, her eyes filled with a thousand things she wanted to say. Things that we both knew she couldn't say to me. Things that I had wanted hear desperately not more than a year ago. We both knew how we felt about each other, but the simple fact was that I loved Sheila. Elle knew it and I knew it. And we weren't the kind of people who could just ignore something as real as love just to satisfy a physical attraction. 

Elle smiled a little and walked over to me. She hugged me tight and I hugged her back, knowing full well that it would be awhile before we got to talk again. She still was embarrassed over the night she had come on to me and I had refused. Hell, I was still embarrassed over it. I had hurt her feeling unintentionally and caused a rift between us that even now wasn't really healed. I hugged my friend and wished it could have been different.

If Sheila and I hadn't got together, then maybe it would have been.

"I love you," she whispered in my ear, and I knew she meant that as more than just a friend. Her voice was trembling.

"I love you too," I said. There might have been time I would have implied more than just a friend, but it was not now. In that moment, I allowed total honesty with myself and acknowledged that I was not only attracted to Elle, but also very fond of her. More than I should have been if I was going to commit to Sheila. I wasn't going to lie to myself about that. But she was my friend. It could never be more than that.




The Finer Points of Sheila Ch. 05



Elle kissed my cheek and broke our hug, "Goodbye, Doug."

"Aren't you going to say goodbye to Sheila?"

Elle looked at the door to the delivery room. She said, "Tell her for me okay?"

I nodded and watched her leave, rounding the curve of the hall, past the nurse's station and then out the front doors. I suspected that if she had gone back in to tell Sheila goodbye, then Sheila would have wanted explanations. She knew just as well as I did that Sheila would have felt guilty over her daughters' feelings for me. Sheila would have wondered if I had feelings for Elle. In the end, the revelation of why she was leaving would hurt Sheila more than it would help. Elle was leaving because there was no other way. Elle wanted this to be a day about the baby, Sheila and I. She didn't want it to be about her.

I had to respect her for that.

The door opened and the nurse popped her head out, "Doug?"

"Yes," I said.

"We're ready to begin."

***

FOUR MONTHS LATER

"This boy will not feed," Sheila said as Logan lay in her arms, asleep and content after only a minute of suckling at her nipple. Sheila's already huge breasts had grown even larger during the pregnancy, but now they were impossibly massive. She had bought one of those maternity bras (an H cup size, no less) that had the cups that unclipped and folded down for easy access. Logan was happily nudged up against her milky breast, his raging fit to be fed apparently satiated.

"Maybe he just wanted a small night cap?" I offered and looked at the clock beside our bed. It was going on midnight now, and Sheila was looking tired and frustrated.

"He needs to eat," she told me, "If he doesn't, my tits are really going to start hurting."

"What about the breast pump?" I flipped the channel again and found T.V. Land. I was delighted to find that "The Odd Couple" was on, but was unfortunately followed by "Full House." I said, "How can they call 'Full House' a classic? What the hell is going on here? 'Night Court' should be on here before 'Full House.'"

"Uh huh," Sheila said absently as she laid Logan in his crib and positioned the pillows and blankets around him so he wouldn't roll, "The breast pump is broken, remember?"

Sheila sat back down on the bed, her massive breasts jiggling under her t-shirt as two wet spots formed in the fabric over her nipples. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she held her tits in her hands and made a pained face. We hadn't really had sex that much since Logan arrived. At first, she needed a month for her vagina to recover from the tearing and stretching. Three months later, Logan wanting to be fed or held usually interrupted any chance we had to get intimate. Which was cool. He was just a little baby, and he couldn't help the fact that his parents were really horny and frustrated.

"Doug," she looked at me.

"Yeah?"

"You going camping?" she asked and motioned to my crotch. My cock had hardened and stiffened in my shorts as I was watching Sheila massage her tits. It was a thick tent pole under my shorts and I smiled casually.

"I'm just appreciating the wonder of motherhood," I said.

"I have an idea," Sheila smiled at me slyly.

"Oh?" I was desperate for her idea to involve sex. Please God, let her idea involve sex...

"You ever tasted breast milk?" she asked and sat across from me on the bed, her legs crossed and her heavy breasts hanging down, stretching her t-shirt out.

"No..." I said. 

I had wondered about what human milk tasted like, but I'd never really considered actually finding out. Sheila smiled and pulled her shirt off. Her full breasts caught on the fabric and pulled up with the bottom for a second. They bounced back into place. Her twin fleshy orbs were silky white and the areolas were pink and brilliant. Her nipples had hardened and were slick with her milk. I looked with hungry eyes as my cock went rigid and implored me to sample her.

"You're so good at playing with my tits anyway," she said and held her right breast in her hand as she tweaked the nipple and coaxed some of the fluid out. Three small bubbles of white milk emerged from the tip of her nipple and contrasted the swollen nub. Sheila milked a little more out and rubbed it around making everything shine.

"Anything I can do to help," I nodded. 

I scooted over to her and Sheila leaned forward, offering her breasts to me. I licked her swollen left breast and teased the nipple. I took her nub between my lips and began suckling on her. After a moment, a strangely bland and yet sweet tasting liquid began filling my mouth. Sheila gasped a little and ran her fingers through my hair. I sucked more of her nipple into my mouth and drank her milk as I massaged her other tit with my hand. Sheila was breathing harder now, her mannerisms becoming more and more indicative of sexual arousal. She slipped her hand down over my bulge and rubbed back and forth as I flicked her milky nipple with my tongue.

"The other one now," she whispered.

Her nipple slipped out of my mouth with a wet little *pop* sound and I slurped up the excess milk that was running down the curve of her fleshy mound. I looked to her right nipple and saw it was leaking now profusely; a thin stream of milk was dribbling down her breast and stomach. She wasn't kidding about how full her tits could get with milk. I earnestly sucked on her right nipple and was rewarded with another burst of warm milk. I found myself drinking from her tit and enjoying it as she put her hand down my shorts and began stroking my cock.

I massaged her left breast now, feeling the heavy weight and silky texture. Sheila moaned her approval as I sucked her milk out. Another stream of her milk ran down my between my fingers in a warm trickle. Sheila smiled and purred as I sucked her nipple in hard and tweaked her left nub. Her milk was filling me up quickly as I relieved the pressure from her mammary glands.

"I want to fuck you," she whispered to me and pinched the head of my bulbous, swollen head.

"I want to fuck you," I said through a brief pause in my suckling. My cock felt like it was ready to rip out of my shorts. Sheila tugged my shorts down and revealed my hard dick in the illuminated television light.

"You got to milk me," she said and leaned forward as I released her breast. She lowered her tits to my cock and began squeezing her milk out on my shaft. The warm liquid coated my dick and she continued dribbling it out until she had completely soaked me. I felt her milk running down my balls and to the crack of my ass. She licked my head and then looked up, "My turn to milk you."

"Sounds good," I mumbled as she pulled my cock into her mouth.

Sheila ran her tongue over her lips, moistening them before pressing them to the head of my milk-soaked cock, making it pulse and throb in her hand. She licked my head with a long slow purposeful lick that made me shiver as she tasted her own milk. She kissed it several times, moving her lips around on the head, sliding down the shaft and back up again and making slurping sounds that made me want to orgasm right then and there. 

The tip of her tongue slid out from between her lips and danced over my head. She tickled the tip of my cock with it, causing bursts of heat to go searing through me. I groaned and she bathed my dick with her tongue, making it shiny with saliva and breast milk. Sheila then sucked me into her mouth, the back of her throat hot and slick against my throbbing glans. The head of my cock was enveloped in the warm wetness of her mouth, her tongue wriggling under my shaft. 

"Good God," I moaned and held the back of her head, her bronzed hair spilling through my fingers in thick tangles.

I could feel the orgasm building up fast. I gripped the bedspread and clutched tight as I moaned and grunted under her expert oral stimulation. Knowing me as she did, Sheila encouraged me further as she feverishly kicked up her pace and ravaged my member with her mouth. The orgasm screamed out of my sack and blasted up my urethra as she prepared to milk me.

"Fuck!" I cried out as I released my load. 

"Fuck yeah," she said as my cock slipped from her mouth, still spurting hot ropes of sticky cum. My semen splattered across her tits as she licked her lips. A thick gob of my fluid was hanging from her chin in viscous white line. She rolled her tongue out of her mouth and caught the line of semen. She slurped it up and swallowed. She pumped my cock with her hand and licked it clean. "Delicious."

"You are the best," I stroked her hair. Sheila kissed her way up my body, dragging her tongue all the way. She worked her way higher and higher until her huge tits grazed my face. I licked and kissed them as she got on her knees beside my head. She then straddled my neck, her pussy a few inches away from my lips and grasped the headboard with both hands. I could smell her sweet nectar, the scent of a woman that was undeniable. 

I immediately set to work, forsaking her cunt and going right for her clit. I swirled around it, flicking and suckling on it as I massaged her soft ass. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, moaning as quietly as she could. My face was slick with her juices as I lapped and suckled at her clitoral hood. Slowly, I coaxed her button out and began teasing her as my hands roam up her body and to her breasts. I cupped them and squeezed.

"Pinch them," she breathed, "Pinch them..."

I pinched and pulled at her nipples as Sheila gasped and squeezed her thighs together a little. Her hips were swaying now, mimicking the motions of sex as I pushed her towards her orgasm. I worked my tongue over and around her hot clit, making it as hard as I could and bringing her closer and closer to her finale. Sheila bit her lips as I nibbled on her clit and then rubbed furiously with my tongue. She muffled her cry of pleasure against her arm as the orgasm bloomed and radiated through her.

Her hips whip lashed violently as she breathlessly whimpered, her hands in her hair and back arched as the orgasm tore through her. Her cum splashed my face in a single squirt as she rode the wave of heat deep in her body. I could feel her thighs spasming as she slowly came down from her high. She dismounted me and lay down beside me as she caught her breath.

"Fuck," she breathed, "Yes, baby... oh fuck."

I rolled over and kissed her deeply, her cum still fresh on my tongue. She embraced me with a fevered passion as our legs tangled together. My cock was hard and ready to go as she rolled to her side, her back facing me, and exposed her vagina. I scooted up behind, propped myself up on my elbow as she lifted her leg and grabbed my cock. She no longer needed to guide me in as we had gotten so used to each other that it was like second nature.

"Be gentle," she whispered, "It's been awhile."

"As gentle as you please," I promised as my hips began to move back and forth on their own.

"I missed this," she whispered and closed her eyes as we joined together.

It took us a few minutes to get our rhythm down right as we grinded, circled and got used to each other. She brought her hand to my ass and held me there as we began to pick up speed. My hand found her large right breast as it bounced and moved to our rhythm. I started pulling and tweaking on her nipple again as she took her other hand started rubbing her clit furiously. 

Sheila was starting to moan again, her pussy sopping wet as we fucked. We were covered in a film of sweat as our pace quickened and we progressed towards another climax. I hoped we would reach it together as I started putting my all into the thrusts, ramming my cock hard and fast into her cunt. I looked over at the crib and saw Logan was still asleep despite the noise of the headboard banging against the wall and our sexual vocalizations.

"Fuck me," she moaned, "Fuck me, fuck me, yes..."

"Yes baby," I groaned and squeezed her tit, her nipple still leaking milk.

"Oh fuck yes," she whined again in that high lust-filled pitch, "Yes..."

Our skin slapped together in a rapid sweaty impact as I hammered her, my teeth bared and sweat pouring off my brow. Sheila's pussy tightened suddenly and spasmed hard around my cock as she came for the second time that night, her ass bucking against me as she tried to stifle the scream. I could feel her juices trickling over my balls as I felt my own climax approaching. 

I barely had the sense to realize that not only was she not pregnant anymore, but also that I wasn't wearing a condom. I pulled out just as my orgasm erupted from my head and sprayed her ass with cum. Stars exploded and sparkled in front of my eyes, my face feeling numb from the near hyperventilation of our sex. We lay there, huffing and puffing, moaning to each other and kissing as we recovered.

"That's what I've been missing," she smiled and grabbed her t-shirt. She wiped her ass cheeks off and once all my cum was gone, she tossed the used shirt into the corner and rolled to face me. She pulled me close and held me, her breasts full and comforting against my chest. Her hair smelled wonderful, a natural flowery smell that made me feel so safe.

In the crib, Logan murmured some of his baby tones and then was silent again.

"Wow," I said as my cock ebbed and receded.

"I know," Sheila smiled and kissed my neck.

"You know," I said quietly, "I'm never going to leave you."

Sheila was quiet for a moment. "I know," she smiled.

We kissed again and made love again, following a routine that was never the same twice and yet could be counted upon to always deliver us to that special place when I stopped being Doug Peterson and she stopped being Sheila Messing and we simply became each other. It was as spiritual as it was physical, and every time she touched me I felt like there was nothing I couldn't deal with.

***

Sheila and I never got married.

We talked about it, and we even thought about actually going to look at rings. But in the end, we just agreed that marriage was an interesting idea and nothing more. My mother never gave her blessing on the relationship, and even when she would visit us she'd keep a distance between her and her former friend. Dad came around after a few months of Logan being born. After the incident at the Starlight Café, he apparently had done some soul searching and realized what he was about to miss out on. And, he just couldn't resist the little squirt. In truth, none of us could.

Logan William Peterson was the ultimate expression of what Sheila and I shared. He was the end result and sum total of our commitment to each other. Every time I looked at him, I was amazed. He was beautiful, a perfect combination of the best both of us had to offer. Those in the town who saw him came to see this fact and accepted him. He was a little miracle born out of an amazing story. And he was quite possibly the best thing ever to happen to me.

I graduated from the Art Institute on my son's fourth birthday. Soon after, between my job as a freelance illustrator and Sheila's work at the realty office, we were able to purchase a home in the suburbs just outside the city. I even got to work from home, which was nice. We never really wanted for money. We always had enough and I thanked God for that small blessing.

Not everyone found life so easy.

Tom Crane (Sheila's ex-husband) fell in with some bad people after gambling at the Red Spot Night Club, just a few minutes down the street from the Freeling Hotel. Apparently, he took out a few loans to pay for some debts he had accrued whilst playing a shitty night of poker. Tom couldn't make the difference and pay up, so his lenders defaulted him and took his life as payment in full. Police found Tom face down in the bathtub of his apartment off Sixteenth Street, his live-in girlfriend passed out in the bedroom from a hard night of drinking. Rumor has it his dick had been cut off and nailed to the wall, but it could just be a bunch of bullshit.

But then, Tom had a way of pissing people off.

Brett had his inevitable run in with the police shortly after Sheila and I moved out of the city and into our home when I was twenty four. Again the Freeling Hotel was his target of choice as he planned to deliver three pounds of the kind of heroine he often classified as "The Fucking Madman." He'd gone to the third floor of the hotel, walked to the suite mark seventy-five and knocked on the door. Ironically, it was this same suite that Sheila and I had spent the night together in shortly after we got together.

Brett made the exchange and believed he would actually leave the building with the wad of hundred dollar bills his buyer had given him. I think he also truly believed that he would never get caught. The police had set a trap for him and he had walked right into it. They chased him through the whole building before finally catching him in the kitchen, trying to hide in an old dumb waiter. 

When they pulled him out, the photographer for the Daily News got a great shot of him being dragged out of the small compartment by his hooded red sweatshirt. Part of me felt sad for Brett, but another part of me felt he had finally gotten what he deserved. In the end, the judge ruled he would spend the next fifteen years in the California State Penitentiary on so many counts of illegal activity that he was lucky to only get fifteen.

Elle didn't came back after that day in the hospital. It hurt Sheila that Elle left so quietly and abruptly. I guess it hurt me too, more than I wanted to admit at the time. She left no address and no phone number. She simply disappeared. Occasionally, we'd get a card from her or a letter that would tell us she loved us and missed us. Some of the letters were postmarked from New York, others from Ohio and even one Canada. Whatever Elle had been looking for, she apparently hadn't found it yet.

I thought she might come back for Sheila's funeral, but she didn't.

Sheila died in her sleep at the age of fifty-five, ten years after we discovered our love for each other. We made love the night before it happened, and it reminded me very much of the time we made love in that open field by Perkins's Ranch in the rain. She seemed vibrant, full of life and energy. She didn't even look all that old, and we enjoyed each other as we had so many times before. When we finished, she kissed me, told me she loved me and went to sleep. She rolled over to face the wall as I snuggled up behind her and held her close. 

I woke up the next morning and leaned over to kiss her. She was cold, her skin a pale white with faded blue shadows that seemed like icy recesses. A small smile was on her lips, beautiful and peaceful. I called her name several times and shook her shoulder. After five minutes I realized and accepted what had happened and let her rest. I kissed her one last time and said goodbye.

It was a beautiful funeral, maybe more fancy and complimentary than Sheila would have preferred, but it was a fitting tribute to the woman who made my life worth something more than just getting by day to day. Mom and Dad showed up, and I think that when I put the two red roses on Sheila's coffin Mom realized that she had wasted a lot of time being angry. She cried and asked me to forgive her. I did of course, but it wasn't really me she needed to ask.

Logan was nine at the time, and he handled it as well as any nine-year-old could. He looked at me, his eyes those of the woman who had mothered him and asked me a simple question that both cut me to the quick and made me love him all the more. He held my hand and asked, "Is mommy sleeping forever?"

"Yeah," I managed as my eyes burned with hot tears, "Mommy is sleeping now."

"Like Sleeping Beauty?"

I held back the choke in my throat and smiled as best I could, "Just like Sleeping Beauty."

"You should wake her up with a kiss," he said quietly.




The Finer Points of Sheila Ch. 05



I wished I could. I wished it were that simple.

"I miss her," Logan said.

"Me too," I picked him up and hugged him, "Me too."

***

EPILOGUE

It's been almost fifteen years since Sheila passed. 

I'm forty-eight years old and in two days I'll see my son get married. I still feel hollow and empty, and even now I can't quite figure out to reconcile the loss of Sheila. Maybe that's why I'm at her grave right now, reflecting on the journey we took together. I've been looking down at the dirt and bright green grass blanketing her body for almost an hour now, unable to speak or even move. I know she is still in that shiny wood and brass box. I imagine her hands folded neatly over her stomach and looking beautiful in her simple black dress. Her eyes would still be closed and her lips still frozen in that simple, crooked smile. Time and decay would not have touched her. She would simply be asleep. Like in a fairy tale.

This was how I chose to think of her in this place. In my mind, we're still in the kitchen of her house making love for the first time or in Perkins' Grove, naked and wet from rain.

Finally, I find the courage to open my mouth and speak.

"Sheila," I begin, my throat tight and constricted, "I'm sorry I haven't been here with you enough lately."

I look down at the grave.

"I know," I say, and I can almost hear her chastising me now. "I'm being ridiculous I know."

I notice a weed growing near her tombstone. I kneel down and grab it by the base of its' stem and pull. It reluctantly comes out, dirt sticking to the wet roots and falling away in tiny clumps. I look at the tombstone for a moment and read, 'Sheila Messing, beloved mother, wife and friend, 1960-2015.'

A smile crosses my lips that I know won't reach my eyes. I look at my ring finger that never actually ever wore a ring but still somehow feels the weight of one. I shrug and tell her, "I added the wife part..."

I stand up, my back complaining and popping as I toss the weed away.

"Logan is getting married," I cross my arms and nod, "A real wonderful girl. They're going to move into the city. Ellen offered him a job at the office, and he accepted on the spot."

I wonder if Sheila was nearby, if she can hear any of this. I hoped she was.

"It's been fifteen years, babe. Why can't I even talk to another woman without feeling guilty?"

There's no reply. And then...

"Hey," someone says from behind me.

I don't need to turn to see who it was. I recognize the voice. "Hey," I reply.

Elle Crane walks up beside me. I look at her, and I'm not at all surprised to see she looks exactly like Sheila. She's dressed in an elegant black dress, her thick hair swept up and away from her face. Elle glances at me and for a moment and then falters. She looks down at the coffin and then back up at me.

"What can I do?" she asks quietly.

Birds chirp loudly in the trees as I stand alone, the sun warm and yet somehow chilling against my face. I say with all honesty, "I'm not sure, Elle."

"I'm sorry," she puts her hand on my elbow.

"She was a great woman," I say, unable to look up from the grave.

"She was a great mother," Elle whispers.

That was very true.

"I miss her," I feel a hot lump in my throat as pressure behind my eyes makes them water a little. I feel my sinuses closing up as the damnable relentlessness of grief pushes and pulls at my heart.

"So do I, Doug," Elle says.

"Missed you at the funeral."

"I'm sorry," she says again.

I nod and feel bitter. "Fifteen years... better late than never, right?"

Elle is quiet for a moment. She finally admits, "I deserved that."

"Well, it doesn't matter now."

"It does matter," Elle turns to face me as I start to walk away, "Doug, listen to me..."

"What?"

"I feel really bad over leaving, okay?" she gazes into my eyes and I see the heart of my childhood friend there, still alive and in as much pain as I am. She says, "Losing Mom is the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with, and I knew I couldn't say goodbye until I came back and tried to make things right. I just wasn't ready yet..."

I try to sympathize as I look at her, "She loved you so much."

Elle's voice cracks and she puts a hand to her mouth, "I know."

"Did you think showing up one day and just saying 'Oops, I fucked up' is going to lay anything to rest?" I ask her, feeling a small flame of anger in the pit of my stomach, "I accepted you had to leave. I respected your decision. I never expected you to write me or call or visit. But goddamit Sheila did. She wanted to see her daughter; she wanted you to be a part of our lives. She needed you. Where were you?"

Elle shakes her head slowly, her doe eyes wide and shattered with grief, "Doug, I couldn't stay."

"Where were you?" I demand.

"Doug..."

"She deserves an answer," I point to Sheila's grave, "It's one thing to go find yourself, it's a whole other thing to ditch your family. Now where were you?!"

"I was lost, Doug."

"Why?"

No answer.

"Why?" I insist.

"Because I'm in love with you!" Elle screams at me, her eyes red and streaming tears as she unleashes her guilt. She says, "Because I was in love with my best friend back then and I'm still in love with him now! I couldn't watch you two be together and be your friend, Doug. I had to leave!"

I feel shell-shocked. I say slowly, "But that was back then, Elle..."

"No Doug," she rolls her eyes and wipes her tears away, "No, it's now too, okay?"

I had believed until this moment my life couldn't get any more complicated. As I watch Elle cry, I discover I was wrong.

"I can't move on with my goddam life because I can't get over you," she says between sobs, her eyes flaming at me, "I realized that you were the one thing I wanted most in my life and now I can't ever have you."

I'm flabbergasted as I shake my head in disbelief, a thousand questions running through my mind. Finally, I ask, "Why come here, Elle? Why tell me this?"

Elle shook her head. "I don't know anymore."

"You never got married?"

"No."

I feel the anger and bitterness fall away from me. I realize now that my anger with Elle over the years was misplaced. She hadn't been living her life gleefully ignorant of her family or her heart. It seems now that as far as she had run from this place and as far as she had run from Sheila and I, she hadn't gone very far at all. Elle was still here; her heart was locked up here with her mother and me. I take a deep breath and say, "I'm sorry."

"So am I, Doug," she smiles at me weakly through her grief.

I say, "She never spoke badly of you."

Elle begins to weep openly now. She had believed that her mother and I resented her all this time. The truth has opened her floodgates as she closes her eyes, sinking to the ground and her legs folding up underneath her. Elle covers her face with her hands and sobs. I hesitate for a moment and then kneel down beside her. I put my arm around her shoulder and pull her to me. Elle rests in my embrace and lets the fear and guilt drain from her soul into the soil of the cemetery.

"She never once spoke badly," I repeat again.

Elle squeezes my arm as her tears soak my shirt. She looks up at me and is so beautiful, her face so relieved to know that her mother loved her despite her absence. She waits expectantly for me to finish my thought. She knows me too well. I add, "I never did either."

And that was the truth. I hadn't.

"You know," I say to her and hug her, "Logan has missed his big sister."

"I miss him too."

"Want to see him?"

"That would be nice," Elle nods.

I help her up off the ground as she brushes the grass that clings to her dress away with quick motions of her wrist. I hold her hand and for the first time in a long time, I look into another woman's eyes and don't feel guilty or ashamed. Elle returns the gaze and smiles warmly at me. I can admit to myself that I've always been attracted to her, and as I remember the night she offered herself to me, I can recall that several times during my time with Sheila that I was grateful she had gone away. Elle had been a temptation for me in many ways, and as I looked at her now I could admit that.

Elle squeezes my hand, "You alright?"

"Yes," I say, but I can feel the stirring in my heart.

Elle leans forward and kisses me on my lips gently. Her manner isn't all like Sheila's, and I find myself also realizing that as much as Elle looks like her mom, she isn't. It's been so long since anyone kissed me, and I return the kiss softly. It's tentative, filled with anticipation and anxiety and yet wonderfully familiar as I pull back slowly and look to her.

"I'm not my mother," she tells me.

"I know," I reply.

"It's been fifteen years, Doug," she says and holds my hand again, "Let me show you what it is to be loved again."

My heart begins to race. I look to Sheila's headstone and listen for some indication that the thoughts in my head aren't a betrayal of her, that I'm not being selfish or impulsive. I quietly ask her for a sign, any sign of her acquiescence to what I knew I could grow to feel for Elle. Overhead, a single white dove glides down and perches on the headstone. It flaps its wings and cocks it's elegant head. The bird seems to look right at me and I feel a strange sensation in my stomach.

The dove lights from the headstone and flies away, up and over the trees and into the sky. I smile to myself and feel Sheila around me, around us both like a blanket. Elle smiles and looks at me, "Did you feel that?"

I nod, "Yes I did."

I offer my arm to Elle and she hooks hers around mine.

"Where to?" she asks.

"Home," I say to her, "Home."

***

THE END 



The Finest Competition



My Friday night out with the boys had come to basically nothing so after a couple of beers at the pub I decided to call on my girlfriend Nicky who had stayed in that night to study for some upcoming uni exams. When I arrived I was only mildly surprised to find out that the studying had been canned and she was relaxing on the couch watching a movie with one of her mates Sam.

Relaxing is a good way to put it as she was sitting back on the couch dressed only in her pyjamas, covered under a large blanket sipping on a nice glass of white wine.

Sam had the other end of the couch, shared the same blanket, her own glass of white and also appeared in a nice little silk pullover that had the straps going over the shoulder and I could only guess would have come down to just below her waist.

Nicky's taste in pyjamas was quite similar and as I had bought her silk number I knew for certain that the waist would only just be covered.

They invited me to join them so after I topped up their glasses and got one of my own I settled down in the only position left on the couch, the middle.

I'd been seeing Nicky for about a year now and at 20 years of age we were both going through that really interesting process of learning the joys of sex -- together. Nicky had a great appetite for our love making and together we had become quite adventurous in understanding each others bodies and what really gave us pleasure. It helped that I found Nicky to be about the sexiest girl I'd ever seen and could explore her body for hours on end. While maybe not traditionally sexy Nicky had one of those great curvy bodies and a gorgeous face that turned heads wherever we went. 

Sam on the other hand was what you would call traditionally sexy. She'd done some part time modelling and wouldn't have looked out of place on a cover of a magazine. She was also a lot of fun and had a pretty wicked sense of humour which made her great to have a joke with. I was beginning to be pretty happy my night hadn't gone as originally planned.

As I sat back I cuddled up a bit closer to Nicky and placed my hand on her leg just running it up the inside of her thigh. Whilst I mentioned earlier that we had been adventurous, one thing we did enjoy doing was just touching each other up a little bit in situations that might not have been so appropriate or maybe might see us get caught. It was never much, just a little brush of the hand or a rub here or there. With this in mind I took the opportunity under the blanket to explore a little further.

With the movie playing and the couple on screen enjoying a bit of passion themselves, I became a bit surprised to find that Nicky wasn't wearing any underwear. Under the blanket and with Nicky complying by spreading her legs a bit, it made it quite easy for my fingers to find the lips of her pussy and lightly touch her where I knew she liked best. I wasn't all that surprised to find a fair amount of wetness there and further exploration left me convinced that Nicky was sufficiently aroused by my attentions. With all this happening it was no surprise that I myself had developed a rock hard erection trying its best to burst its way through my football shorts.

By this stage the 3 of us weren't really concentrating on the movie and had begun chatting and laughing about all those usual inane things.

Sam had been single now for about 3 months and as often happened with her the conversation moved to sex. Unusually for her the problem this time was not getting any and she openly complained at her frustrations -- which she said for a girl her age was unacceptable. I joked that she needed to get better at helping herself out and she laughed saying that was not a problem.

With all this talk it was perhaps opportune that at that moment the two female stars of the movie embraced in the sort of overwhelming passion often portrayed in the movies. Taking the chance I told Sam maybe she needed to find herself a girlfriend. Sam being Sam replied that in her current state she was willing to try anything and besides, from what she was told, women make better lovers anyway.

So here I was touching up my girlfriend under a blanket on the couch next to another extremely sexy girl who openly said she was hot for it and not afraid to talk about it. To make matters worse (or better) Nicky had managed to slip her had down my pants and rest it on my now extremely hard penis giving it a rhythmic kind of squeeze throughout the conversation.

I took the chance to further joke with Sam and argued that whoever told her women made better lovers needed a stern talking to and maybe some sort of test to see whether that was indeed true.

In my own bold way I declared that nothing beats a hard penis and a willing male. Sam shot back a "wanna bet" retort and I of course said "yes" wondering what on earth that bet could be. 

Sam is not one to back down so said right up front -- "I bet you I could please Nicky better than you could, winner takes all."

Winner takes all!! What does that mean? Nicky was starting to absolutely squirm under my fingers and I knew that if this carried on she would orgasm right there. But Nicky being Nicky butted in and said, "hang on Sam, you're the one who says she needs the pleasure so why don't Mike and I take up the challenge. If Mike wins the bet we are his slaves for the night and if you win, you have us to do whatever you want."

I couldn't believe my ears, Nicky was agreeing to share me with her best friend in some sort of contest to see who could pleasure her the most, but again she set the rules saying -- "I'm the one who gets to say exactly what we do during the contest" -- meanwhile she gave my cock an extra hard squeeze.

It was all I could do not to cum right then as Sam agreed and Nicky started taking charge.

"First things first we head into the bedroom," she said.

Once there Nicky started in her role as the boss and told Sam to stand at the edge of the bed. "Stand next to her Mike and give her a kiss, let's get this competition started. I'm going to set a timer on each thing that we do and reckon that 2 minutes each should be enough. At the end of the 2 minutes -- Sam declares the best and we add up the scores when I say we are done." I reluctantly (joking) stood in front of Sam and bent down to give her a nice passionate kiss. Her mouth reached up to mine and before too long we were lost in a passionate kiss. Sam was a great kisser and being the forward type of girl she is reached around to my bum and pulled me in so my erection was pressing right against her. I reciprocated by reaching under her pyjamas to find with some surprise that she was without any undies either, so started slowly massaging her bum as our mouths met. For the full two minutes Sam ground her body into my erection and it was all too soon that Nicky called time.

At this point it was Nicky's turn and the 2 girls kind of giggled as they lined up and started to give each other a tender kiss. This was without doubt the most erotic sight I'd ever seen as I watched my girlfriend and her best mate kissing in their skimpy little lingerie numbers. Nicky had reached around with one hand to pull Sam against her and Sam's sex rested nicely on Nicky's left thigh. Rested might be the wrong word as Nicky helped her rub her naked pussy against her and with her other hand reach up and squeeze her breast. I recognised the move as one of my own and was impressed by Nicky's ability to do to Sam what I had done with her on countless occasions. Many times Nicky could get off on my thigh and if the clock hadn't beeped for 2 minutes Sam may have as well. As they pulled apart Sam looked at me and apologised. "Nicky's got that one Mike, I'm sorry that's one nil -- I could almost cum like that."

I laughed and protested that Nicky had stolen my move which relaxed the scene a bit and reminded us all that this was a fun moment between really good friends.

"Alright" Nicky said. "Sam lie on the bed face down and Mike will give you a nice massage, but you have to remover your clothes for this one." Sam had no problems with that call but insisted that we had to do the same.

With the dim lighting of the room I watched as both of them removed their clothes and Nicky then lent over to remove my shorts, squeezing my cock during the process.

Sam then lay face down on the bed and I was treated to the absolute beauty of her naked body lying down in front of me.

I knelt beside her grabbing some baby oil and first massaging her gorgeous shoulders and arms. I didn't spend long there as I worked my way down her body consciously making sure my protruding manhood didn't touch her at any stage as if thinking she might get offended. I worked my way down to her bum and legs and Sam helped direct my way by opening her legs slightly and allowing me to work my way inside her thighs. It was obvious that this was where she liked best so for the next however long I massaged her inner thighs lightly touching her pubic hair as I made my way to the underside of her beautiful ass, being rewarded by a slight moan escaping Nicky's lips.

Again 2 minutes was up far too soon and I retreated giving Sam the chance to work her magic. Significantly more forthcoming than I was she sat above Sam's bum, her pussy spreading over her mounds. She grabbed the baby oil and instead of sprinkling it over Sam's back, poured it over the front of herself and rubbed a significant amount on her breast and stomach. She then proceeded to rub her breasts all over Sam's back in what could only be described as a full body massage. They were both slippery enough that Nicky was able to start at Sam's feet and rub herself all the way up to the top of Sam's body. Sam was obviously enjoying this and squirmed slightly underneath. The next time up Sam had spread her legs quite widely and Nicky stopped just below her bum rubbing her ample breasts in between Sam's legs whilst kissing her bum and rubbing her pussy all over one of Sam's calves. I'm not sure who was getting the most pleasure out of this and again realised that doing this for too much longer could make Nicky herself cum all over Sam's leg. Nicky then began to concentrate her kisses inside Sam's legs and with her nose in the middle of Sam's bum cheeks began rubbing her tongue along the inside of Sam's bum. Another one of my favourite moves! I was soon realising that I myself had actually taught Sam a lot about pleasuring women. Sam could now barely contain herself and raised her bum to give Nicky better access which she made the most of by licking intently as she rubbed her pussy against Sam's legs. I'd actually stopped the clock enjoying this glorious sight before deciding that it was time to move on and calling an end to both their immediate pleasure. 

Again Sam looked at me and apologised. "Sorry Mike, but that was heaven, that's 2 nil." I wasn't sorry, this was unbelievable!

Nicky once more took charge and instructed Sam to lie on her back. "It's the frontal massage now, only rule is no penetration and no direct contact with the clitoris."

Sam tried to protest, she definitely wanted clitoral contact but Nicky was the boss.

Again I grabbed the baby oil and taking Nicky's lead sat myself above Sam's pussy, my cock jutting out with a life of its own. Sam took the chance to give it a quick rub but Nicky sternly told her that was against the rules.

I poured the baby oil all over Sam's large breasts and massaged her until her nipples looked like they could puncture a tyre. I leaned over and took her nipple in my mouth as I reached behind her with my other hand and gently stroked her pussy lips. Starting to be slightly selfish I mover further up and placed my cock between her breasts slowing fucking her tits while the head of my cock finished just below her mouth. She assisted by lowering her head and allowing my cock to touch her lips and outreached tongue on the upward stroke. I was still able to lean back and gently touch her pussy lips which were glistening with her pleasure. Whilst this wasn't purely for her pleasure the look on her face told me she was thoroughly enjoying close access to my penis and she ended up sucking my cock gently into her mouth.

What started as gentle sucking quickly progressed to a fully fledged blow job as she used her hands to draw my cock further and further into her mouth.

In my short number of years I've found that there are girls that 'give' blow jobs and girls that 'enjoy giving' blow jobs. Well, Sam was definitely the latter as the combination of my fingers between her legs and my cock in her mouth really got her moving.

To make things a bit more interesting I threw Nicky's rule book out the window and inserted 2 of my fingers into Sam's dripping pussy with a lazy thumb further stimulating her clit. This threw her into a state and she started riding my hand with a real intensity. It was Nicky who put a stop to Sam's impending orgasm by calling time, pleasing neither of us all that much -- but then who is going to start whinging.

Nicky begged Sam to let her get off and Sam with a smile relented saying "okay, the next phase is no holds barred, one at a time but I'm going first".

My first thought was one of disappointment as I knew that Nicky could have her orgasming in seconds but I knew Nicky too well and realised she would be setting me up for the finale and ensuring I won the competition. That's love eh!!

I sat up the top of the bed next to Sam's head and Sam immediately grabbed my cock with her hand giving it a sexy squeeze. Nicky meanwhile went down between Sam's legs and began licking the inside of her pussy. I watched with interest as to how Sam responded to the different areas Nicky explored. With Nicky's tongue inside her pussy and her fingers on her clit Sam was in heaven and moaning beautifully. With Nicky's fingers in her pussy and her mouth sucking Sam's clit -- Sam was somewhere above heaven and whimpering with full on pleasure. When Nicky bent down and put her tongue on Sam's ass, her thumb in her pussy and her fingers on her clit, Sam went absolutely crazy. She basically grabbed my cock, pulling me on top of her and started sucking me off like a wild woman. I knew now, what my winning moves would be and again just as poor Sam started an impending orgasm, Nicky pulled away from her and we both watched as Sam's whole body quivered with excitement.

It was clear she was in no mood for any slowing down so I went straight to work. I told Nicky to sit on Sam's face knowing full well that Sam enjoyed the 'dirty?' joy of sucking someone off while getting licked. I bent down and immediately placed 2 fingers in Sam's beautiful pussy and drew her clit right into my mouth. I covered it entirely and sucked it a little less than gently while rolling my tongue over the top of her clit. This had Sam bucking my fingers strongly, lifting my mouth up and down with her rhythm while she licked and sucked Nicky's pussy and Nicky facing me squeezed Sam's tits, herself close to coming.

I pulled my fingers out and replaced them with my thumb, taking my well lubricated forefinger and pushing it lightly against Sam's bum. This provoked a different sort of movement as it became obvious that Sam's ass was inviting my finger in. I didn't immediately comply teasing her entrance gently but as soon as I was sure she was right on orgasm I inserted my finger into her bum. This sudden entrance pushed her over the edge and she entered into the strongest multiple orgasm phase I ever considered possible. 

Her whole lower body convulsed over my thumb, forefinger and mouth. Her breasts seemed to push themselves further into Nicky's hands and her mouth just attached itself to Nicky's clit as Nicky ground herself right on Sam's face.

I kept going as her first strong orgasm seemed to last forever. As soon as it was over another seemed to shake Sam right to her core. When that subsided and the third orgasm arrived it was Nicky as well who found herself cumming all over Sam's face, lost in her own intense experience.

As they slowly calmed, both Nicky and I pulled ourselves off Sam and lay down with her on her back between us. She was still shaking slightly with extremely red cheeks and a shortness of breath.

She took one look at me and just said: 'You won'.



The Finger Dance



I imagine you lying there on the bed

And me getting onto the bed

Tracing my fingers across ur legs...

In a zig zag swishy motion...

Slowly...

Slowly...

Two fingers walk up your leg

Sliding down into the inside of the soft fleshy thighs

The two walking fingers are now joined by two others who are pushing the leg apart who are trying to close down on the walkers

The fingers make slow twirls on the flesh digging just deep enuf to make u gasp

...they move up...

Tracing its way still upwards where it can feel the heat...

A heat so tremendous that it threatens to consumer everything in its path...

A heat so inviting to make one feel comforted...

The finger walkers are drawn... Drawn towards that moist soft heat...

The heat which makes them ache...ache enough to just feel one touch...

To grace across the tender...

To slide across the soft...

To touch the moist...

To kiss with their fingertips the beautiful lips...the wet soft lips...

The fingers are pushed back...away from the temple...

The fingers look back longingly but but but they cannot do their thing unless they are needed and the need has to be absolute... clothed in a yearning...

A yearning that can only be sated...

Sated only...

By the soft caress and embrace of the finger walkers...

The finger walkers eager to unleash the magic in their veins...

Turn back...

Skating across the smooth skin...

Leaving their imprints with each step they take...

They stop near the inside of the thighs...

Looking at where the need to go... No... yearn to go...

With trepidation and longing and excitement...

But one finger is hesitant...and dragging his feet,... He draws circles on the soft fleshy insides...

Unsure... how to proceed...

Not knowing...

If it will be welcomed where it wants to go...

... It is contemplating...wanting to turn back...

His brother ..stops him... looks at him... encouragingly...

"Cmon" he says..."U will like it"...

The scared one trusts his brother... And drags along behind him...

As they journey towards their destination... 

Dancing and twirling circles on the soft...flesh...

As they dance along... One of them slips and falls...

And the other in an attempt to save the first... Digs deep into the flesh...

Making the flesh go red in pain...

The fallen brother is pulled up by the one clawed in...

Taking care to pull him up...brushing the insides of the thigh...

Caressingly leaving the nerves on the soft flesh tingling...

The soft flesh t...t ingling and excited by the strange sensations...

The brothers' dance has given birth to...

The flesh shudders in anticipation... anticipation of what is to come next...

While... the brothers pull themselves together... n they march on...

As they near... They are afraid... yet want to trudge on... to the unseen temple...

Whence... suddenly...their minds are blow away... By the incredible... feelings coursing through them...as their nasal senses are exploded by the sweet fragrance of their destination...

Like a siren song... it draws them near...

Nearer... To the temple...

All the while dancing without realizing...

That they are now completely being engulfed by the...

Aroma of the elixir laying in waiting in front of them...

They reach near... And they notice that the flesh... Around the temple...

Is much softer where they are... now...

They are mesmerized by the sparkling of what looks like a million diamonds...

In front of them...confusing them... Only to realize that...

The moistness of the temple they are to enter is...what is sparkling...

Tantalizing...and...inviting...

One of the brothers...curious...slide across the opening...

Testing...

Feeling the moistness engulf him...

Drenched... He holds the temple opening and shakes himself...head to toe...

To remove the droplets...clinging on to him...

And suddenly the temple shudders...

Closing its opening on the brother still standing there...

Holding him tight... 

Not letting him go...

As he wiggles and twists...to no avail...

The other brother horrified... Climbs carefully on top of the temple dome...

And pushes against the soft yet hard mound at the top...

Of the temple... and pulls on his struggling brother...

The one inside trying to push himself out...

But each push and pull motion...

Only striving to push the brother inside...deeper...

Who by now is thrashing... Inside with all his might touching...

The even softer...

And even moister...

Sides of the temple...

The brother outside pulls hard...

At his brother...

Pushing his entire weight against the mound...

As he pushes harder... He is surprised at...

The intensity of the quake beneath him...

Shuddering and throbbing...

Causing him to fall into the opening which...

Gaped open momentarily to... Swallow him...

To place him next to his other brother...

The 2 brothers trapped inside the tight tunnel of the temple...

Wiggle and wriggle even harder...

Trying to push themselves out...

And no sooner are they just out when they r drawn back in again...

And this goes on n on...

Each motion... increasing in intensity with the need to...

Push oneself out...

While the tunnel becomes even more slippery...

Causing them to slip and be drawn back again...

No sooner are they in... That they push themselves out again...

When the temple's magic causes the brothers to slip and be drawn back again... 

... And in this state remained the brothers... The strange magic of the temple... Causing them...

To sway in and out of the tunnels...and with increasing speed... they keep going...

In...

And...

Out...

In...

And...

Out..

Trembling...

Pushing...

At the walls...

Inside...

Faster...

Harder...

Wanting to go out...

But yet...

Wanting to...

Stay in...

The moist...

Wam tunnel...

Which now is...

Shuddering and throbbing...

And gushing...

With the juices...

Of the elixir...

Which now has released its dams...

To pour forth...

In an intense...

Climax...

Throwing the brothers out...

With force...

Who now claw... At the opening... Yearning to get back in...

They slide their moist... wanton bodies against the opening of the temple...

Pressing in need...

In pain... .of not being inside anymore...

In pleasure... Of the exquisite smell surrounding them...

In feeling of the comforting wetness around their bodies...

...they yearn...looking to get a way in...

When... They sense a weakness in the temple's magic...

The opening failing to close in time...

Sensing their moment... they seize it...

They push through again...

Slithering their bodies inside...

As they are now one with the temple...

Moving in tandem...

In a rhythm... That...

Now feels familiar...

No longer new...

The brothers explore the...

Insides of the walls...

Trying to reach the...

Spot...

The spot where the elixir resides...

Tentatively prodding...

They move around...

Swirl around...

Breaking into their finger dance...

Circling...

Tiny circles...

Tracing large circles...

With their magic feet...

Changing direction mid-way...

Causing another shudder...

Revealing momentarily...

The Spot...

Which is more than what the brothers wanted... the tiny window of opportunity...

Is enough for the brothers...

As they reach out to the spot...

The spot where the elixir resides...

The holy grail...

They feel it... Begin...

Touching it...

Caressing it...

Pushing it...

Pulling it ..

Nudging it...

Teasing it...

And they feel the change inside the temple...

As they feel the walls close in on them...

When suddenly with a roar they feel the juices of the elixir released from its dam...

In one fell swoop... Engulfing them...

This time they hold on...

While they keep pushing... n prodding... on the spot...

When finally the gush of juices coming out...

Is too much even for their strength...

Taking the brothers out... In one single smooth motion...

Panting... Where they lie down...drenched...

They get themselves up... And...

Look on longingly... As they make their way back...

To where they came from...

Treading gingerly... On the soft flesh...

Sad for the time that have now come to pass...

... the sweet fragrance of the temple...

Wafting after in their wake...

...

..

.



The Finite Beating Heart



I am at the wheel of my rusted, two-decades old Chevy pickup. We have pulled off the road since we're in sort of a rain white-out, a blinding storm with whipping winds that are beginning to rock the truck itself.

I shouldn't be surprised. Storms like this, coming in from the Atlantic, are not infrequent on Hatteras, part of the Outer Banks island chain along the North Carolina coast.

It is just after Labor Day. Summer tourists have departed and fall fishing has yet to begin. Which means the two-lane road running the length of the island is pretty much deserted -- except for us.

Me and Mrs. Anna Ainsworth. We've pulled into a parking lot. She's sitting on the passenger side by the door. I turn off the wipers and cut the engine. The rain is so hard we can no longer see out the windshield -- our world reduced to the door-to-door bench seat we are sitting on in the cab.

The otherwise deserted little parking lot -- only about 10 spaces -- is one of several up and down the island, meant for beachgoers. You park, take a wooden walkway up and over a sand ridge filled with waist-high sea oats, then you're in front of an endless beach -- and the deep blue sea.

And nothing nearby. No houses, stores, no civilization at all for another few miles ahead of and behind us. Mostly just sand and the road. We are alone. And we will have to wait it out in the truck. 

"I'm sorry I dragged you out here, Benjamin," she says. "How long do these storms last?"

Not to worry, I tell her. We may see blue sky in 30 minutes. Though sometimes storms hover all afternoon and late into the night. I'm not going to bring that up.

That I'm frustrated is an understatement. If I'm going to be stranded, couldn't it be with a 19-year-old with flimsy shorts and eye-catching breasts? Maybe platinum blonde hair? I'm 18 and would relish that kind of company. Actually, just about any girl my age would do. I'm pretty desperate. Luck has not come my way much with dating.

And I'm having no luck this day, either. Mrs. Ainsworth has to be in her early 50s, though she in no way resembles my plumpish mother. Tall and slender, loose khaki shorts, black t-shirt and an old, worn baseball cap. Her hair, not quite shoulder-length, is an unusually bright gray that glistens in the sunlight. It is heavily wind-blown from our traipsing around. Quite striking, actually. Surprising to see that in a woman as old as her.

"So, I guess we just wait? Is that it?" she asks. She opens the glove box in front of her, just exploring. Finds a deck of cards. Pulls it out.

"Well, we could play a game. You up for strip poker?" she asks with an innocent smile.

I'm startled by that. She's middle-aged for God's sake. And I've known her for only two days.

"I guess not," she says, putting the cards back, looking away now and out the side door window at the rain. 

"I can understand, Benjamin. Especially after seeing me naked this morning," she says, looking back at me. 

Thankfully, she's still smiling, though this time not so innocently.

I was hoping we'd never have to have this conversation. She had not mentioned it all day. But here we were. So I begin my apologies.

"I'm sorry about this morning, Mrs. Ainsworth. I'm not perverted. I'm no peeping tom. It was an accident. I know I should have turned around and walked away."

"But you didn't."

She was right about that. I didn't.

* * * 

Of course, you need to know the back story. My folks own a four-unit apartment building on Hatteras, fronting the beach. Simple, two-bedroom apartments for vacationers, each with a deck overlooking the ocean. Two upstairs units, two down. Nothing fancy. Now that the season is over, I've come down from college for a three-day weekend. I'm staying in one of the upstairs apartments to do some painting on the building. Mrs. Ainsworth showed up two days ago, renting the other upstairs unit. No one else is here. Just us.

She spent the first day driving herself around the island. When she pulled her car back into the apartments' driveway, I was cooking freshly caught flounder and deep-frying hush puppies. We chatted. I invited her to eat. She helped with the cooking. We drank cold beer on a warm night. Talked. 

This morning, sunrise and low tide were both just before 7 a.m. For some reason, I woke up, couldn't go back to sleep. Grabbed my shorts, a cup of coffee and headed barefoot out on the wooden deck. No one was on the beach. Mrs. Ainsworth wasn't up either. 

So I'm trying to explain this now to her, but I know she thinks the worst of me.

"You see, I just walked over to the railing to look over at your front door to see if you were up," I say. "The door and window were open. I had no idea you were sleeping on the sofa in the living room."

"It's okay, Benjamin," she says, a little gloom now on her face. "I'm quite sure young guys don't get their kinks looking at someone naked who's as old as their mother. Age spots aren't exactly erotic."

"I didn't see any age spots," I say, trying to repair the damage.

"That's because you saw my good side," she says, giving me a quiet laugh, but now a little forced. She's being polite, trying to make light of me having seen her nude. It makes me like her. She's letting me keep some dignity.

She had been lying face down on the sofa. Early morning sunlight filtering through the window and screen door. Her back was long and smooth, freckles across her shoulders, her back bone very pronounced all the way down. Slight rib indentions. Middle-aged or not, I have to admit my blood rose when my eyes moved down to her buttocks. No bubble butt like young girls on campus. Hers was slightly longish with a perfectly sculpted curve. The cleavage between them dark, forbidden. Her legs, crossed at her ankles, were long, slender, graceful.

I could see her hips moving slowly up and down, ever so slightly, lifting only an inch or so off the sofa, in a rhythm. Her right arm was down by her side, her hand up under her, right at her sex. She was masturbating.

"Anyway, I'm sorry," I say as we are sitting two feet apart in the truck. "I embarrassed you and myself. I wish it had never happened."

"Oh, so I wasn't even worth looking at?" Mrs. Ainsworth asks, teasingly.

"Now you're toying with me," I say, feeling my face turn warm. I'm guessing it's also bright red.

I wondered if she was also toying with me this morning when I saw her naked. After I had looked at her a few seconds, her eyes opened. She turned her head back slightly and saw me. Said nothing. Did nothing. No expression. Made no attempt to cover herself, even as I finally backed away, retreating to my apartment.

"You're right. I am teasing you, Benjamin. I'll quit," she says.

Of course, the question I want to pose is why she was lying naked in the living room with the windows and door open, especially if she was doing herself. I opted not to pursue it. Nor did I ask why she didn't try to cover up.

* * * 

The rain is still pounding us hard, though the wind has died down. No more swaying the truck. Still, we can see less than 10 feet in front of us. Can barely make out the highway.

"Since we have all this time, tell me something about yourself," she says. "Are you dating anyone?"

I tell her no.

"OK, tell me about the last girl you dated."

So I bring up Ramona Babcock. "What did she look like? Come on. Out with it," says Mrs. Ainsworth.

"Well, long black hair. Blue eyes. A little shorter than me. More popular than me. It was my first semester at college. We didn't date very long, a few months. Not much else to say."

"And what attracted you to her?"

"Her looks. And we both liked movies, seeing them, talking about them." 

"How did it end?"

I laugh, a sarcastic laugh.

"We were at this fraternity party off campus. Big house, big crowd. She goes off with a girlfriend. I head upstairs with a guy I know to see some friends. I come back down a half hour later and she's sitting on a couch, one guy on each side of her. They both have their hands up her skirt, all the way up. She sees me and just winks. Like it's all good fun."

"What did you do?" 

"I stood by and watched. Got sick to my stomach. She got mad later, said I was a wallflower. She called me a boring little mouse." 

"The 'mouse' part hurt," I tell Mrs. Ainsworth. "That pretty much ended it."

"Believe me, Benjamin. You're not boring at all. I've had a lot of fun today. Actually, one of the best days for me in a long while," she says. 

It has been fun. You see, Mrs. Ainsworth is an amateur photographer. She drove down to Hatteras, by herself, to spend a few days capturing the wildlife and lifestyle of the island. I agreed to drive her around, show her the best places. That was last night while we were eating, before I saw her bare-assed. But I couldn't back out.

So this morning we took my rusty Chevy -- all trucks on the Outer Banks eventually rust out from the salt air -- and headed to what's called the Pea Island refuge. She trained her lens on the heron, Snowy Egrets and red throated loons, but as much as anything, was awed by the solitude and beauty of the place.

Afterward, we drove to isolated beaches, tromped around, photographing sand crabs at our feet and terns hovering in mid-air. I carried her gear, following along while she took photos. Even in those baggy shorts, I couldn't help but again notice her long legs. When she kneeled down to examine a colorful shell, I noticed the smoothness of her calves, the curve of her hip. Though fair-skinned, her legs had an ivory look, rather than a pastiness about them. 

The morning sun was out in force, the sky a brilliant blue, the ocean pure turquoise, the wide beaches smooth as glass from the receding tide. A few pelicans were nose-diving into the waves, zeroing in on a late breakfast. A flock of 50 or so gray and white gulls strolled slowly, lazily down the beach on pencil-thin legs, as if they owned the place. Actually, they kinda do.

She was thrilled when we later stopped at an old bait shop, something out of the 1940s. Good photos there. If only for the old, weathered men who hang out, literally, around a pot-bellied stove. All of that, followed by long-lens views of the huge Hatteras Lighthouse in the distance and ferries churning back and forth farther south to Ocracoke, the southernmost island, the only one without a bridge to it.

That was just before the storm hit. Just before I pulled over into the parking area.

* * * 

"Hey," I tell her. "I just remembered something." I reach into the narrow space behind my seat and pull out an unopened bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. It's a cheap bottle, grocery store variety. But at least it's red wine. I had bought it last week and left it in the truck. Forgot about it.

"Hot damn, Benjamin. It's a party," she says. She is mocking me with phony excitement. But at least she's smiling as she does.

"It's the little things in life, Mrs. Ainsworth," I tell her as a comeback. She likes that.

I decide I like her personality. Quiet but aggressive. Confident. Funny and nice. Not wanting to embarrass me.

"So just one thing. How do we open it?" she asks. I reach into my pocket. "All good islanders have a pocket knife handy." I whittle the cork out, pass the bottle between us.

"Is this too crass for you?" I ask, since we're both swigging the bottle.

"No. I would never pass up a chance to drink wine in the rain," she says. "I've always thought it romantic." We laugh at that, considering our circumstances.

We sit quietly, watching the storm all around us. She cranks down her door window just an inch. "I just want to smell the rain," she says.

It doesn't take long for the wine's buzz to hit me. Makes me more brazen than I am normally. I break the silence.

"Anyway," I tell her, "It wasn't much of a relationship with Ramona Babcock. Certainly nothing to brag about."

I know the buzz has gotten to her, too, because she asks: "Did you sleep with her?" Her voice more serious now. No laughter.

"Yeah, for awhile," I say. "It was pretty hot, that is until the night of that party." 

"I shouldn't have asked, Benjamin. It is none of my business. It just started me thinking about my own life. I didn't sleep with a guy until I was 19, and that was with my husband. My boyfriend then, but we eventually married."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with waiting," I say. "I'll bet you two made up for all your lost years. I sometimes try to imagine what it would be like to have a permanent girlfriend, or wife, all the time. Just roll over in bed and she's there."

"It is fabulous," she says. "To be so in love -- or at least in lust -- that you're unable to keep your hands off each other. We screwed like bunny rabbits."

"So, your husband was your first?" I ask.

"I suppose," she said. "But it depends on what you mean by 'first.' I made do before him. One of my girlfriends in high school, her name was Claire, would invite me to her home after school. We'd lock ourselves in her bedroom, tell her mom we were doing homework. But really, we would kiss and make out. It was practice for when we had real boyfriends. Then we both went to the same college. We'd sleep together in my dorm room on weekends and explore a little more."

"Sounds like sex to me, Mrs. Ainsworth."

"I guess you're right. Did I just admit that my first sexual experience was lesbian? Isn't that funny. But we didn't think of it that way. And we never, ever talked about it with anyone. I can't believe I just told you that Benjamin. I've never told anyone, not even my husband. We just did it and pretended it didn't happen."

"You know," she said. "There's a poet, Marie Howe, who once wrote a piece called "Practicing," about the same thing. Girls trying out sex with each other before they start dating. It's beautiful. It spoke to me. Told me that maybe I'm not so sick in the head."

* * * 

We drink more wine, pass the bottle back and forth. She watches the rain. I begin watching her.

She takes off her baseball cap, I notice her hair, now even more windblown, seems wild. It really captures my attention. There are vivid streaks of dark grays, dark blacks, whites, even silver. Her hair looks rich, it practically glows. So different from the drab, gray-haired women who come to my mother's book club. Makes me think she's offbeat, a loner. I could be wrong. I like loners, probably because I am one. And her hair continues to fascinate me. As wild as it is, I see a certain seductiveness there. Which, I think, is so odd for a woman her age.

And now I'm drawn to her face. Narrow, high cheekbones, large eyes set apart, long neck, patrician nose. Why had I not seen those features in her earlier? She could have been a runway model in years past. Her breasts, under that black t-shirt, seem small. But they're very noticeable, weighty. They fit her slender frame. She has a fairly small waist but from there her hips have a nice, gentle flowing out.

And then I realize -- I'm checking her out. It's the first time I've paid attention to a woman over 30. Even worse. I have a full-blown erection in my shorts. Over Mrs. Ainsworth. 

She picks up her camera. Leans back against the door on the passenger side and shoots several photos of me at the wheel in my white t-shirt and shorts. She props her feet up on the seat, facing me. Pulls her knees up. Trains the camera on me for more shots. I glance down and see halfway up the legs of her loose khaki shorts. I see the underside of her thighs. And I'm wondering if she's aware that I can. No attempt to cover up. She takes several pictures of me. 

She drops her right leg down on the floorboard, keeps her left leg propped up on the seat. That causes the legs of her shorts to shift to the side a little. Now, I see even farther up her leg on the seat. A flash of white panties. She sees me look. I know she does. She must have. But she keeps shooting photos. Then lifts her butt up just slightly and moves it sideways about an inch. Maybe she's uncomfortable. But the shorts themselves remain where they are, stuck to the seat by sweat, I guess, which means an even greater view of her panties. I see dark pubic hair beneath the fabric, just a little of it. 

Her panties are damp, maybe also from sweat, and that forms an indentation at her slit, which I can see quite clearly now. Even see a little puffiness on the edge of the slit. My God. They're the lips to her vagina. I lift my eyes up to her. She has moved the camera away from her face and is just holding it, looking at me. No smile. Just studying me. She knows I'm looking between her legs. There's no doubt now. Is she exposing herself on purpose? Does she want me to see? She's not calling me out. My erection is already aching. And now I'm the one sweating. 

"With that white t-shirt, that tan and all that hair, Benjamin, you remind me of James Dean," she says with no mention at all of what I'm doing. 

She grows quiet. I believe she still is trying to figure me out. I grow quiet too, trying to figure out why I'm liking her so much now. Trying to come to terms with the realization that she arouses me. I've never felt this way about girls my own age. It's not just the hot desire. It's something else. A weakness in my stomach, from sensations that this is so decadent, so taboo. Something terribly naughty.

To my surprise, she scoots over beside me, puts her left arm around my shoulder, holds the camera at length with her other arm and takes a few snapshots of the two of us against the backdrop of the now fogged-up windows. Our faces are close together.

"These are going to be great pictures, I can tell already," she says, putting her hand on my right thigh as she talks. "You are so photogenic," she says. She squeezes my leg a little, a sign of affection. We are becoming friends. She slides her hand up my thigh an inch or so, squeezes again. This time the finger tips are ever so slightly against my erection, throbbing from the underside of my shorts. She realizes it, pulls her hand away. All of this takes place in less than 10 seconds. Still, there is no way she can not have known that she was touching me. She scoots over to her side of the truck.

She doesn't look at me. Stares out the window. Have I totally alienated her?

Then her first words. "Such a fun day, isn't it. I wish we could have a dozen more like this." She speaks quietly. Hard to hear with all the rain, which now is picking up, getting hard again.

"Let's face it, we're just fun together," I say. It's my first attempt at flirtation. I think it falls flat. Instead, she smiles, and for a second or two nudges my hip with her foot that is still up on the seat. Tacitly agreeing with me.

Then, just as suddenly, she grows serious. Looks out at the torrent of rain. The smile gone. She's quiet, in her own thoughts. It's perplexing to me.

* * * 

I decide to come clean. 

"I lied to you, Mrs. Ainsworth." I give an audible sigh. "I never slept with Ramona Babcock. It never got that far. She let the two guys feel her up, but she wouldn't let me, her date, touch her."

"The truth is I've never slept with anyone. I'm probably the only 18 year old on the planet that hasn't had sex."

"You and me, Benjamin, we are quite a pair," Mrs. Ainsworth says.

"What do you mean?" 

"You lied. And I've lied," she said slowly. "The only hot sex I've ever had was with my imagination. And maybe with my high school girlfriend. With my husband, it's always been laborious, absolutely unfulfilling. I dread when it happens." 

"We both have our secrets, don't we, Benjamin."

We each give the other a weak smile. Long silence. I can see her eyes are watery. Then this:

"I don't know what I want to do with the rest of my life, Benjamin. A part of me just wants to run away."

It catches me by surprise. I know nothing of her life, other than she's been married 30 years, has two grown daughters, is an accountant. She told me that last night.




The Finite Beating Heart



The wine is getting to her.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm outside of my skin, Benjamin, observing my own life, comparing it to others. I want to know what another life might be like. What would my marriage be like if it was with someone else? What would another kind of love life be like?"

"I guess that's why I wanted to know about your love life," she says.

"Well, now you know. I don't have a love life," I tell her.

She looks at me with a tenderness in her face. It both melts my heart and makes me harder than ever. I am beguiled by her.

"Benjamin," she says after a few more moments of quiet, "Why did you keep looking at me this morning? Did you like seeing me naked? Even if all your friends would see me as little more than an old woman?"

I'm embarrassed again. Not sure what to say. I stare out the windshield, not at her.

"I kept looking because I had never seen a naked woman before. Not in real life. I couldn't take my eyes off you."

From there, I can't find the right words. In exasperation I just say, "I couldn't believe how beautiful you were lying there." I stammer a little. "Your husband must be the luckiest guy in the world."

"He doesn't think that," she says. "I don't think he ever did. At one time I suppose I was his trophy wife. But now, I feel alone in my marriage." She avoids my eyes. Won't look at me. 

"If I were your husband, I wouldn't give you the chance to feel alone." How stupid, I realize immediately. An 18-year-old saying that to her. When will I ever learn.

She wipes a tear from one eye. Then she smiles. Her voice turns upbeat, she strikes a playful note.

"So, what would the two of us do all the time if we were married?" Even her eyes are smiling at me now. 

"We'd travel a lot," I say, surprised at myself so readily joining in her game. "We'd talk a lot. Go to the movies constantly. I'd be your assistant, carry your gear for you on photo shoots. And we'd cook flounder and deep fry hush puppies."

"And drink cold beer on a warm night, of course," she adds.

"Definitely," I say. "And I'd do whatever else you wanted to do." 

I love this playfulness between us.

"And would we fuck a lot?" she asks. 

That, of course, stops everything. Had we not just finished off the entire bottle of wine, we wouldn't be saying these things. But that bottle is empty now. No going back.

It was a rhetorical question, anyway. She isn't waiting for an answer. She knows.

"I think I shock your sensibilities, Benjamin."

"No. No. Not at all. I'm okay. I'm fine. Not a problem."

With that, she nudges my hip again with her foot that's still up on the seat. "It's fun to tease you, Benjamin."

But this time, before she can pull her foot away, I'm compelled to do something. Anything. I have to. My desire is at the boiling point. Mrs. Ainsworth has aroused in me a dark lust. And my heart is about to burst for her. I'm feeling sensations I don't understand. I am hot for this middle-aged woman with silvery hair. There is insanity in this. But I don't care. There is only the now. And I want her. I feel like a savage ready to jump on its prey. Do something, I tell myself. Anything.

So, my hand gently picks up her foot from the seat. I slowly begin caressing it, rubbing the heel, gently stroking, pulling, massaging her toes. I say nothing. I don't know what else to do. It's so awkward.

She doesn't pull away. Leans her head back on the window of her door. Looks not at me, but out the front windshield at the rain. I rub her ankle, then back down to her foot, caressing her flesh. My feelings of ineptness begin to fade.

She moves her other foot up to the seat. I take it with my other hand. Begin caressing both feet. She is quiet, closes her eyes. Rain pelts the truck's roof and hood, making a continuous loud metallic popping noise. It's warm in the cab, almost steamy. The windows are fogged. Wind whips up again. Can barely hear the surf on the other side of the sea oates.

"Rain is so sensual," she says, her eyes still closed. "The sound of it, the smell, the taste of raindrops."

She opens her eyes, looks out the window again. 

"You knew I was masturbating when you saw me this morning, didn't you Benjamin?"

"That's none of my business," I say. 

"I'm not ashamed of it," she tells me.

"It would surprise you to know," she says as my caressing continues, her eyes still avoiding me, "that I fantasize about sex probably as much as you do. I bring myself off at least three times a week. I thought I would have stopped that when I got married. But here it is 30 years later and I'm still doing it. I've had sex a thousand times with my husband -- the same old way, or variations thereof. There's so much I want that I've never had. My own imagination embarrasses me sometimes. And I'm beginning to feel like the clock is running out on me."

"What is it you want?" I muster the courage to ask. Each of us looking everywhere but at each other. 

I begin caressing my way up her legs to her calves. One hand on each leg. Massaging the muscles a little. I didn't have any idea that a woman's legs could be so soft. She begins wetting her lips with her tongue. 

"Do you really want to know?" she asks as she turns her head to look at me. "I've never told anyone."

"Not even your husband?" 

"Especially not him." 

"I want to know," I say.

"You know we're both drunk, don't you," she says. 

"All the better," I say. "People are more honest when they're drunk."

My hands are at her knees now, my fingers lightly brushing the skin, then massaging it. I slide fingers behind her knee, tickling. She pauses, I think to feel my caressing. She closes her eyes, begins talking, sweat now in beads on her brow. A wet spot at the top of her black t-shirt. It's sweat too. And for the first time, I see her nipples pushing out from under the t-shirt, though she has a bra on underneath it.

"You know what I really want, Benjamin. I want a husband to explore my body with his hands, just have me lie on the bed and him sitting beside me, caressing my skin, my muscles, toes. Every single part of me I'd want him to know. Every inch."

She opens her eyes, but won't look at me. Peers out the window, focusing on something seemingly far away.

"You know what else? I want to be taken from behind. I think I have a pretty good ass. I've always liked it. Been pleased when I look at it in the mirror. I want to bend over and show it to my lover, unashamedly. Have him fawn over my butt and love it, then ram himself into me from behind, wildly and taking me for all he's worth. Really fucking me hard, as if nothing else in life mattered at that moment. I want him to lose himself in me. Hasn't happened once in my marriage. I can't count the number of times I've daydreamed about that."

"I want to be on my back with my knees pushed up against my chest so my lover could go into me as deep as possible. The deeper, the better. The more we'd become one soul, or one body, or something. Something I'm searching for. I don't know what it is, but something."

I don't speak. Move my hand now to her thighs, rubbing gently, then caressing. The outside of her leg, then the inside, delicately, moving my fingers in little circles over the skin. She is even more soft here. Silken. I don't really know what I am doing. And I'm terrified all the while. But I won't stop unless she tells me to. 

The rain has slackened. In its place a thick fog and heavy mist envelops the truck, shrouding everything. 

"Does it seem repugnant that I'm being this nasty?" she asks. "Well, I can go you one better. Do you want to hear it?"

"Yes," I tell her.

"I want a man who wants to watch me pee in the bathroom, who doesn't think it's vulgar, like my pent-up husband does. Yes, Benjamin, that's my kink.

She is in full confession mode now.

"And, no," she says. "It's not really a turn-on. I just love the intimacy of it. For a man to have such desire for me that he would relish me taking a leak in front of him and not be repulsed. That he would want that kind of intimacy. I have a thing about wanting to be close. I watch young couples in bars, in restaurants, on the street. I wonder just how intimate are they with each other. I would kill to be in one of those relationships."

"I want to take a bath with a lover. A long, hot bath. Have him wash my back, maybe shampoo my hair. Wash my ass. Yes, definitely have him wash my ass. Maybe afterward we'd make love. But maybe not. Maybe sometimes we'd just satisfy ourselves with the intimacy of those moments."

"I should have married a man who would do all those things, Benjamin. Shouldn't I."

"Mrs. Ainsworth, any man in his right mind would trade his soul to have that with you."

When I slide my hands into the legs of her shorts and to the top part of her thighs, she closes her eyes again, lets her head drop back, against the window of the door. She sighs.

My fingers work their way to within an inch of her panties. I can't believe what I'm doing. Her thighs quiver. I hear her say "Oh God," under her breath, barely a whisper. Not meant for anyone but herself to hear.

Opens her eyes. Looks back out the windshield. 

"I'm 53 years old and never had a man really truly ache for me, Benjamin. Never desire me so much that his heart ached. But you do ache for me, don't you, Benjamin?" She turns her head, looks at me. "I can see it in your eyes. When you were watching me naked this morning. And now when you have your hands up my shorts."

I start to speak.

"No, don't," she says. "You have, at least for this moment, so much passion for me. I don't know why you do. But that's the greatest gift you could give me. Thank you for that." 

She sits up, my hands fall from her. She scoots over to me. Runs both her hands through my hair. I'm astonished. Frozen. Her fingers cup my face. She kisses me gently. Slips her tongue against mine. Lets it play with mine. She tastes of wine, smells of suntan lotion and the sea. It feels warmer, softer than any kiss I've ever had. I know, with this single kiss, that we have bonded. She turns her face, lightly rubs it against my cheeks, my lips, my ears, over my nose. Turning her head from side to side as she rubs her skin against mine. She brings her face in front of mine, looks at me. Our eyes only inches apart. Her eyes smile at me.

She scoots back to her place by the door.

"Benjamin," she says in that still quite voice of hers, speaking slowly. "Do you know who Neil Armstrong was? Of course you do. The first man on the moon. One small step for man . . ."

At this point, I think I may be in shock. No way to answer.

"He had another quote that seemed more important to me. He once said the human heart has only a finite number of beats to it before it dies, and he didn't want to waste any of his."

"Neither do I, Benjamin. Not any more." 

With that, she opens her passenger door, steps out into the warm mist and thick fog. With the door still open, she keeps her eyes on me as she pulls her black t-shirt over her head, throwing it on the truck seat. Reaches around her back, unclasps her bra, throws it on the seat too. There is no time for more than a glimpse of her breasts before she bends, unbuttons her shorts and quickly pulls them and her panties off. She stands for a minute to let me look. 

Her breasts are small, but heavy. They suit her. Slope a little. The nipples dark brown and stiff. Her areolas larger than I would have expected. Her breasts jiggle deliciously with every move, every breath she takes. She has dark hair between her legs, but only a little, and not shaved, just naturally a little above and around her slit. The mist settles on her skin, forming little droplets over her entire body, in her hair. I have never been so aroused.

My viewing is over in a hurry as she steps around to my side of the truck, opening the door, pulling me out, and taking my clothes off too, there in the parking lot. Since I am now naked, misty droplets cover me too. She stands back, takes me and my very hard dick in with her eyes, says: 

"You're gorgeous, Benjamin." 

* * * 

Is there a towel in the truck or something to sit on, she asks. I grab a folded up plastic tarp I keep behind the seat. "Perfect," she says. Takes my hand and leads me through the mist and fog onto the wooden walkway leading over the sandy ridge. It's quite hard to see. She drops the tarp on the beach, walks me down to the water. No one else is on the beach. Who could possibly be out here in this weather anyway?

We wade in. But only knee deep. The waves are white capped, rough and pounding. Very loud. Storm waves. A killer surf.

She moves behind me, against my back, wraps her arms around my shoulders. She is almost as tall as me, so the side of her face is against the side of mine. She nibbles on my neck, licks my ears. I reach my hands back to the sides of her hips. It's funny how just touching her there gives me such a feeling of her nakedness. She is right up against my back. The whole time, the warm spray from the waves showers us every other moment.

She reaches up, slowly caresses my face, moves her hands down to my chest, scraping my nipples. Still lower and her fingers circle softly across my abs. She slides her fingers into the hair around my cock. I am still hard, thick, her touch takes away my breath. She runs her index finger from the top base of my cock out to the head. My cock jerks up. I almost cum. She does it again. Strokes me for a few moments, caresses the head of my dick, cups my balls, massaging them gently. I'd never even contemplated the idea of a woman holding my balls. She squeezes gently, runs her fingers around and over the skin, then down my thighs, lightly scraping them, now back up to my cock. 

She draws her face even closer. The sound of the pounding surf overwhelms my left ear. Her lips up against my right ear. "Can you feel my nipples against your back, Benjamin?" I say yes. "My nipples have always gotten very, very hard when I'm excited."

"Can you feel the hair between my legs against you, Benjamin? Can you? Tell me." I say yes again. "I don't have a lot," she says. "But sometime today I want you to run your fingers through it. Kiss my hair down there. Will you do that for me?"

I shake my head, yes.

"Holding your dick in my hand makes me so wet. But you can't tell, can you Benjamin?" "I don't know," I answer.

"Let's find out, Benjamin. Reach your hand behind and feel me. Feel how hot my cunt is for you. Put your finger in me. But just one finger."

"That feels so good," she says. It was slick, warm, almost hot, her opening larger than I expected. But at the moment that joy was being compounded by the sudden feeling -- she was still slowly pumping my dick, and squeezing it -- that I was going to cum, and hard.

"Mrs. Ainsworth, you've got to stop. I can't hold on much longer."

"Do I excite you that much, Benjamin? Which do you like best. My squeezing your dick or your finger inside me? Which is it, Benjamin?"

"I love both, Mrs. Ainsworth."

"Not good enough, Benjamin," she says, her lips right against my ear, her breath, with each word she speaks, tickling the inside of my ear. "Which is it? Tell me."

"It's my finger in you."

"So, Benjamin. You like my pussy. Would you like to lick it? I can teach you how, you know. But you'll have to do exactly as I say. You see, in my own fantasies, Benjamin, my cunt to me is a work of art. And it takes someone very special to appreciate it fully. You think you're ready?"

"Mrs. Ainsworth, you've got to stop."

"No, Benjamin, I'm not going to stop. No woman's ever held your balls before, have they? No one has ever stroked your dick like this, have they now? You've never cum in front of a woman before. But you will for me. I'm your first and you'll remember me always, won't you? You desperately want this middle-aged body of mine. You're going to cum for me. I want to see it spurt into the air. If anyone else sees, then it's their good fortune. Just let go."

"That's right, let it all out," she says as my sperm arcs out, one shooting stream after another, probably a good three or four feet out into the air. Streams of white disappearing into the ocean froth.

She keeps stroking, softer now, more gently, stopping to massage my balls. She turns me around, meets my lips. I expect a gentle kiss. Not hardly. She forces her tongue wildly into me. Her hunger is as strong as mine. Maybe stronger. 

"Benjamin," she says. "I don't want to waste any more heart beats."

She leads me back to the tarp, spreads it out on the sand, pulls me down. Lies on top of me, moves down my body slowly. Kissing, biting all the way. Sniffing, scratching with her teeth. She licks my limp penis, takes it in her mouth, begins lightly sucking. The feel of her soft lips surrounding my shaft is something I never imagined could be this good. I'm looking straight up into the fog. It surrounds us. I wonder if the torrential rains are about to begin again. I get hard quickly. She knew I would. 

She turns around, away from me, on all fours. Her ass -- which makes me weak to see how beautiful it is -- is up in the air above my face. I see for the first time the lips of her vagina. And the small dark shadowy area that hides her anus. All right above me. Her beautiful silvery hair falling everywhere, small breasts hanging down, the nipples hard and long. I watch as she, one hand at a time, pinches them. Groaning each time. I reach up, with my middle finger, touch the top of her ass, then let my finger follow the cleft between her cheeks. All the way down. She moans. The is the greatest moment of my life.

She licks my balls, takes them one, then the other, in her mouth. Sucking, licking, kissing. I began to smell her sweat, her skin, the juices in her pussy. I try to inhale it all. I feel as if every pore in my skin is electrified. Ready to erupt.

She swivels back around to face me, grabs my dick, holds it straight up, impales herself on it, quickly, sitting on top of me. She begins talking. "Can you tell, Benjamin, that you and I fit together well, so tight in me."

My eyes begin to bulge. "You felt that didn't you. I can squeeze you with the muscles in my pussy. Tell me you like it and I'll do it again." I tell her. She does it again. I tell her again. She does it again. And again. And again. Never knew a woman could do that. Drives me into that white heat of desire. She leans forward, braces her hands, one on each of my shoulders, slides up and down on my dick, slowly.

She raises up, pulls off, moves forward, sits on my stomach. Uses her fingers to spread the lips of her pussy open to show me. She points out the parts, everything a bright pink. I can see the liquid lubricating her entrance. She touches her clit. She starts to explain it to me. "I know about the clitoris," I tell her.

"Good. Then take your finger and touch it. That's right. Now move it slightly in circles, very lightly. A little bit lighter. Yes, like that. Make the circle a little smaller."

She looks into my eyes. "That's it, Benjamin. Now don't stop. Whatever you do, don't stop."

She lowers herself back on my cock, bends back, far back, using her arms to brace herself on my legs. It's to give me easier access to her clit with my fingers. She closes her eyes.

"Oh yes," she says, giving a quiet little gurgling laugh. The laughter of pure pleasure. 

She begins swaying her hips back and forth, just slightly. Just a few inches. Her breathing deepens, then more so. The moments pass. I don't let up. She gives this long, low guttural groan, her whole abdomen quakes, her breasts shake. She is a woman on fire. She throws herself down on my chest, which is now a river of sweat and mist. Juices run down my dick from her pussy and into my pubic hair, onto the tarp. I reach my own crescendo, raise my hips, trying to slam them into her bottom. I squeeze her hips hard. I come. My first time with a woman. The sweetest orgasm I could possibly have. The one I will always remember. Every smell. Every touch. Every taste.




The Finite Beating Heart



* * *

We walk back to the truck, throw the tarp in the back bed, get inside. But we don't put our clothes back on. I'm more confident now. I tell her to lie down, the length of the seat, her head at the passenger door side. Her knees are lifted up since there's not enough room to stretch out. I get on my knees on the floorboard on her side. She is face up, hands behind her head. Relaxed. Beads of water all over her from the weather. I lick them off. From her face to her toes.

I close my eyes, run my fingers over her forehead, onto her high cheekbones, lightly skimming the curvature of her ears, feeling behind them, then on to her lips, following my fingers slowly up and around them, feeling her breath as I do, smelling her skin. 

I open my eyes, move down until I reach her breasts, lay the side of my face on her chest. Feel her heart beating. Use my fingers to feel the smoothness of her areolas, the stiffness of her nipples. I pull on them a little, open my hand and run my palm over the top of them, barely touching. Her eyes are open and on me. Her breasts have flattened out since she is on her back. But still they are soft and cushy. As gently as possible, I hold them, squeeze them just to feel their thickness. Kiss her nipples. Suck them. She says nothing. Lets me play as long as I want. But her breathing tells me this is what she is starved for.

At her stomach, instead of using my fingers, I lean down to her, again turn my face sideways and graze my cheek across her skin. As I get closer to her sex, I begin to smell her. I do as she had asked: caress her pubic hair, sifting my fingers through the dark black soft curls on her mound, still glistening from the moisture we have both just created. I play with this little gathering of hair around her opening. I cup her mound with my hand. Press in lightly. She presses back.

My fingers glide down her slit. She opens her legs wider for me to look and touch. I slide the tips of my fingers around the opening. Feels velvety. I put two fingers in her, then three. Push as far in as I can, pull back, do it again slowly. She is so wet, my fingers are really slipping in and out. My thumb finds her clit again.

Her breathing picks up. I pull my hand out and move down to her legs. I don't want her to cum -- not yet. I may be new to all of this. But I'm a quick study. There's a slight wickedness in the smile she gives me. We both know. We want our hunger to build. It's a good thing the fog is surrounding us, protecting us. Because we are animals in heat.

I slide both hands down her thighs. I touch all around. I work down to her feet. Even her toes fascinate me.

I turn her over, face down now, her legs bent back at the knee since space is so tight. Move my fingers down her back, then back up, feel the ribs. I kiss the freckles on her shoulders. It's all in ever-so-slow motion.

Then to her butt. I knead her wet skin, kiss it, stroke it. Spread her hips apart, touching the wrinkled opening of her small anus, using my index finger to encircle it dozens of times. She's warm and moist. After a few minutes it seems effortless to slide my little finger inside her ass. Just barely at first. I move it back and forth, slowly, going deeper each time. Replace my little finger with my index finger.

"You like that, don't you, Benjamin." she says, breaking her silence. You like putting your finger in the most personal part of my body, don't you. You are just like me." 

"If you want me to, I'll quit," I say.

"No Benjamin. I like it as much as you do. You may not have any idea how much I like your finger in my ass. You just don't have any idea. Deeper. Push deeper."

So, I do. Until long moments later when she pulls my finger out, turns over, gets on her knees, raises her ass up as an invitation, then looks back at me.

"Benjamin, it's time to fuck me hard. Don't hold back. I'm your ten-dollar whore and you want your money's worth." She lays her head down on the seat.

I get on my knees on the seat. As the tip of my cock touches her opening, it feels like home. As I push in, her muscles grab my dick, tighten around it. This is where I belong. 

I manage to stay in her 20 minutes at least. Never imagined I could last that long, especially doing it from behind where I could grab her butt to my heart's content. My fondest fantasy for all those years of masturbation. But I do last, somehow, pounding her maybe 50 times, going in as deep as I can. Pressing hard to find the back walls of her vagina. 

We rest, me still inside her, then pick up again. I stop, turn her over on her back, get on my knees on the floorboard and lick her slit and her clit until she comes. It takes no more than a few minutes. She is so desperately wanting it. Coming all over my face, grabbing my head, pressing hard against me. I push her legs back against her chest. Then quickly enter her. In one long and hard stroke, going as deep as I can. I cum myself. We collapse, unable to even speak. 

I lie on top of her. We kiss and kiss. She wraps her legs around my butt. No talking. Just rest.

* * * 

After a while, we sit up, survey the damage.

We're a sweaty mess. Her beautiful silvery hair looks like the aftermath of sticking her finger in an electric socket. Wet sand covers us. We ache. Have scratches that we don't remember getting. We probably smell. 

"I don't know about you, but I feel better," she says. We both laugh uncontrollably at that.

The rain has stopped altogether. The fog begins to lift. We climb out of the truck. Both need to take a leak. We pee simultaneously on the sand beside the parking lot, her squatting down, each watching the other. Being this intimate with her is freeing. I begin to understand her desire for it.

I open the door, reach for my shorts. She tells me no.

"Benjamin. Let's drive back naked. Do you think anyone will see us?"

"We'll get arrested," I say.

"Wouldn't that be fun," she says. She kisses me. Says, "Let's do it."

As we pull out of the parking lot -- and we are au naturel -- she says, "When we get back to our apartments, we'll need a bath, Benjamin."

"Isn't that one of your fantasies, Mrs. Ainsworth?" I ask. "You are so perceptive," she says.

"By the way, Benjamin, it feels good not to waste heartbeats. Don't you think?"

end



The Fiona Files #01



Part I

Fiona had allot to do so she moved at a busy pace; straighten up the shelves, change the phone message. She hustled now, sweep, count, pack, lock, grab her pack and out the door.

Her dark ponytail swung about and brushed her bare shoulders, she felt free and sexy. She walked in a way that made her feel strong, she could feel the strength of her legs and ass.

Fiona exchanged waves and smiles with the other people on the street. Everyone was closing up and heading home or wiping down tables beneath awnings getting ready for the evening crowds. Passing the bakery she gave special little wave to Conrad, not so much a wave, just a secret little pinkie wave, and his response was to blush and turn to hide his erection. Passing the flower shop she waved a friendly wave and she raised an eyebrow just a bit to Emma who then bowed her head and secretly squeezed her thighs together. Fiona loved the late afternoon when night caresses the day and day becomes the night. You've done your work she thought, you've made your living and now it's time to play, to become that other person.

There was never any doubt who that other person was and the two Fiona's lived side by side in perfect harmony. One was a bright young shopkeeper, friendly and familiar, at ease talking with grandmothers, carpenters, cops; whoever happened into the shop.

The other Fiona was a lithe, keen eyed, sexual being. She didn't wait for gratification or hope that her lovers would perform competently. No, Fiona saw to it that her lovers met her needs. Her lovers were never subservient or submissive in the classic way, but it seems they always wanted to please her. As her lover you either gave Fiona what she wanted or let Fiona take as she desired. So her lovers, be they men or women found them selves either on their knees eating her pussy and or on their knees with a dildo in their ass. It was up to Fiona entirely and you gave it gladly. And so it was on that warm July night that Fiona worked the tumblers of my lock and entered.

Part II

Sexually available. Fio called me on her lunch break to say that she would be by tonight and that she had been thinking about me for days. Sexually available. That's the drum beat that pounds in my head. Sexually available, willing, wanting. Sexually available and beautiful, that's how I feel. Sexually available, an object to be used. I want to be wanted. I want to be seduced. I want to be taken. One little push and my shirt is over my head, my belt torn from my waist. One wet kiss and I am on my back, legs spread wide, a willing vessel, the welcome home, an easy lay. Sexually available.

I hear her mount the stairs, work the lock and then there she is, in a little black dress, one hundred little buttons up to the chin, blocky boots and a Hillary Swank smile. Fiona quietly closes the door and turns. She poses now, leaning back, hands behind, holding the knob, one knee up, boot against the jam."Got a kiss for me?" Her pouty lips pull back and her smile reduces me to putty. Her smile explodes and hits the farthest corners of the room. Her smile beams through my body, burns through my core. Her smile is a million dollars. It could buy land, it could buy gold, it could buy enough arms to defend a nation. It could buy me.

"I have more than that." I say moving towards her light even as the heat blisters my flesh.

"My Johnnie." She says softly. Fiona takes my face in her hands, my eyes close and she sweetly kisses me on the lips. The tension drains from my body, I fold into her lilac embrace and inhale her. With that one kiss, that one breath of her, the coolness of a river washes over me. Baptism. We stay like that for a long moment, arms around each other, cheek to neck, body to body, man to woman. Our hearts find each other, flutter a time or two, then begin beat together. Fiona.

"I'll make you a Margarita." I say pushing away with a laugh.

Sexually available. I am wearing nothing but my jeans. I know that she is looking at my back and shoulders. I know that she was tracing the line of my spine into my jeans, they hang just low enough to make her want to see more, more of what is just below the waist, just out of sight but there for the taking. Available.

"Did you run today?" she asks moving up behind me. "You look great."

I know I look great. "You called, I ran. I'm as clean as you like me"

"God you have a sexy back."

Fio moves up behind me and reaches around to loosen my jeans. With her other hand she reaches down the back of my pants. I spread my legs, assume the position. Yes officer. Her hand dives and probes until I am leaned against the counter and her finger is exploring my ass. She finds the hole that I have lubed and insets a finger. The taking has begun. Forget the drinks I can hardly stand. Fio finger fucks me with one hand while exploring my body with the other. Her fingers softly trace the contours of my muscles, she inspects my neck, shoulders, arms, the veins of my arms, my nipples, my stomach. Objectification. Just an object, a really fit guy. Rough, she is really rough, she probes my ass like she has lost something in her purse. She jams my jeans down with her knee and then her foot. I step out of them and she kicks them across the floor. Naked now. Available. She rakes my hair with her fingers then grabs a hank pulls my head back. Fio knows how to weaken me, how to hit the pleasure spots. With every new angle she achieves, with every little bit deeper that she digs I crumble that much more. I slowly start to grind, to offer my ass, to encourage her. Fiona braces a hand against my back and widens her own stance. Middle finger now, deeper, now two fingers, humping my ass with her hand. My breath comes fast. An object. I could be any guy with a flat stomach and tight ass. It's not me, she doesn't know me. She says my name, "Johnny" in the sweetest way and I melt, I absolutely come apart. Objectification, I am an object, like a photo spread; ass, tit, pussy, cock, two pussies, hole. I am a guy in jeans with a nice cock that likes to get pegged. It's never, "Johnny, how was your day?" or "Johnny, what about the starving children in India?" No, it's just, "what a sexy back." or "you can really wear a pair of jeans."

And I love it. I come cheap. Fiona can take me any time. She can take me for a minute or a day, I don't care. I am an object, available. Eat me, fuck me, fuck you, eat you. Your call Fiona. Any time.

"You should lie down." she says taking my hand and leading me to futon on the floor by the bay window.

I lie back against the pillows and prop myself on my elbows. My cock is hard and hungry, my balls hurt, I have been wanting her so long.

Fiona stands and takes her dress off undoing the many buttons in a methodical way. Fio has small, beautiful breasts, her nipples hard and brown. Her belly is flat, she doesn't wear panties, just the harness. I open the box on the floor next me and pick out her favorite dong, a white 7 inch silicone dildo. Now my cock is absolutely dancing and my ass is tingling from the finger fucking. Fio doesn't look at me, she just works the snaps and buckles of the harness until her dick is firmly in place. I am always amazed that none of the people passing by out on the street see this little scene. I live in a ground floor apartment that faces the street and Fiona never pulls the curtain. Fio knows what seeing her wear a dildo does to me so she always takes her time to be seen from different angles. It takes all my will not to start jacking off.

Now she's on me, always the same. Kissing me. "My beautiful Johnny. Have you been thinking of me?"

My head back to expose the flesh of my neck and express my longing, "Oh Fio....if you knew how often I think of you."

"What are you thinking now Johnny?" she asks as she lubes my ass.

"Nothing, nothing Fio."

"Johnny." rougher now. "The truth." With two fingers deep in my asshole she closes her hand and lifts me back against the cushions. Her lips on my ear she says, "Truth Johnny, I want to hear it. Tell the truth".

I can't lie, so I spill. "I'm thinking that I am a beautiful girl, that it's summer, I am lying in a field of uncut hay. We are girl lovers." My heart is pounding out of my chest, my breath is ragged. "The ground is warm, the hay is scratchy, it pokes me. I know you will grind the dirt and hay into my back, but I want to get dirty, really dirty, I want sex, sweaty, dirty sex. We have found your sisters' strap-on. You stand silhouetted above me, the wind whips your hair, sunlight breaks across your nipples, I can see goose pimples rising on your skin. You look down at me, holding your cock, feeling its weight and power. You are like nothing I have ever seen, a creature of all sexes. I cannot resist you and I don't want to. You watch me part my labia with both hands. I test the slickness of my pussy with a single finger. I raise my hips off the ground, arching my back as high as I can, my offering. I know that in a moment you will join me on the ground, brush the hair from my face, tell me you love me, kiss me apple-sweet and then invade me. I will be a boat on a big sea and you will be the storm that rages before delivering me to the distant shore. I give myself to you."

"Was that so hard? You are beautiful Johnny and I will take you."

"I couldn't stop you if I wanted to."

When I kiss her I try to kiss her sweetly. I kiss her mouth the way one woman would kiss another womans' pussy. How does a woman kiss? I lay back and she enters me. She presses the slippery dong against my hole, I resist for a painful moment and then, POP! She's in and I am soaring. Fio is stroking away, fucking skillfully. I lose myself in the rhythm and waves of pleasure. I am a beautiful girl lifted from the pages of a magazine. I grip the harness and rock my hips, I work to take her deeper. I am an object. I am available. Fio is in control, she pounds, caresses, rolls me over, sets me on my knees. Her hands guide me through the positions, on my back, my side, my knees. I don't just take her cock, I crave it and I grind for it. Fiona is careless, she hurts me, she is attentive, she heals me. She is sweating now. I am on my back again, holding my knees high to give her full access. She is in a zone. I don't know who she is fucking. It may be me. I can hear voices on street just yards away. A couple is discussing diner plans. Cars are parked and doors open and close. Through a few inches of Victorian wood and plaster Fiona sodomizes me, fucks my ass with a silicone dick while families lick ice cream cones just feet away It is god damned wild. I just try to stay with her. I am no where near in control. My head is knocking against the wall, the bed is torn to hell. I go where Fio wants to go. I take her deep until the steel and silicone and leather chaff my thighs and leave me raw. I hug and hold her. She is in me to the hilt and still diving. I pour kisses up and down her neck and shift my hips looking for a way take one more inch of her cock. My heart begins to crack, my heart is cracking, my heart...

Fio is done now. We lie together and Fio talks. My hole is a void. Unconsciously I rock my hips. I feel like I have come off a ship after days at sea. I can still feel her motions, my ass and prostate throb and remember her inside me. I close my eyes and hover. Fiona's voice is distant like a far off point of a light. Only with Fiona am I this man/girl. Only with Fiona do I surrender all control.

I reach around and unbuckle the false dick then put it aside. I put my hand between her legs and she opens them. I find her pussy wet and swollen. I plow my face into her musky sex and search out her juices like a man just off the desert. I lick circles and suck her clit until a shuddering wave goes through her body. When I move up and kiss her she tastes her cunt then slides my cock into her damp darkness and closes it around me. Our fucking starts slowly and then becomes turbulent with Fiona gnashing her teeth and kicking like a cowboy trying to stay on a horse. We don't last long and once we have cum we sleep. I dream that I am flying. I dream that I leave our warm blue world and enter the dark realm of the stars. I drift for many years, my disembodied self rockets through the heavens until I come upon a dying star. There I wait in the cool stillness of space and watch the star burn and fold in upon its self, burst outwards in a blinding flash, then collapses in silence leaving nothing but a perfect void. 

Part III

When we wake and have had our shower I fix diner. We talk, but not really. I realize I really don't know her any more than she knows me. I'm not sure I want to. I love her, God only knows I love her. But I could never know her, not her core, her inner self. She shows herself to me when she is taking me. But it is animal, a hunger. She places one hand over mine across the table and eats with the other. It is a sweet, gentle gesture, quite uninhibited, but with that casual touch she possesses me. While she is touching me, while energy crackles and arcs from her flesh to mine, I am hers, my free will is gone. Surely if Morgan Le Fay had a sister, it is Fiona.

Fio smiles warmly when she goes to get a glass of wine. She hugs me from behind, runs a cool hand down my naked spine and slides it teasingly into the back of my jeans while tugging at my ear with her teeth. I stop mid mouthful. Oh Fio, I think. Oh Fio, here we go, another long night.



The Fiona Files #02



*Note - this is a chapter in the Fiona Files. These stores can be considered semi-autobiographical fiction, or just fiction. In these stories I will talk about Johnny and Fiona. Johnny is always the same person, mostly me. The Fiona Files is Johnny's journey. The character of Fiona is a mash of women, real and imagined. Enjoy. Please let me know if you have enjoyed my stories.

NewRyder

The Fiona Files II - String of Days

Part I

I met Fiona when she blew through a red light and I broadsided her Alpha. I was able to kick the bumper of my truck back into place but her Alpha was now an organ donor. When the tow rig left she looked at me and said, "Alpha's fucked". When I asked if I could drop her somewhere she swung her pack into my truck and said, "your place". To say Fiona was quiet would be an understatement. She was nearly mute. But from the moment she slammed the door of my truck I knew that we would be together. Not that I wished we would be together - I knew we would be together. That much I was sure of. The rest was a surprise.

I stole glances at her in those first minutes. She had boyish hair, a little long and swept to the right, parted on the left. Not much tit that I could see. Her legs were shaved, brown and strong, she wore cutoffs, longer than a girl would wear and a dirty tour tee shirt. She caught me looking and I swerved to get back in the lane, Fiona looked back me without expression and pushed a Dylan CD into the dash. After a while she settled into the corner of the seat, tucked her leg up, rested her chin on her knee and took a long time checking me out.

"Your name?" she said finally.

"'cuse me?", swerve.

A laugh. "Your name. What's your name?", her chin still on her knee.

I took another look. She had pool deep brown eyes I don't think she cared if she blinked or not.

"Johnny. John. Johnny." I said like I had to recall my own name, the color rose in my face.

"Fiona." She said.

"'cuse me?".

"Fiona, my name, call me Fio."

In all time I knew Fiona she never asked for money. I never saw her use a phone. Never saw a check book or a credit card. I didn't root through her bag or go through her pockets. I didn't ask questions. I took every day as it came. I took every day with her as a gift. 

When we got back to the house Yeller greeted her like she'd been gone for weeks. My usually stand offish best friend had just adopted a new master. While I cooked a diner Fiona alternately flopped and paced, Yeller at her heels or watching her the whole time. We ate and drank without a word, Fiona cleaned up. I put up my lunch for the morning and got into the shower.

I was face to the spray when the curtain pulled back and Fiona stepped in with me. I turned to look at her but she twisted my shoulders back and began to wash me. She started with my hair, moved to my chest and belly, then washed my erection. I was standing legs spread, arms up and out bracing myself. Fiona, soaped my cock and balls and then started on the crack of my ass. She washed me up and down and with a finger, washed me inside too. We still had not spoken since we had eaten, or at least Fio hadn't. Fiona turned me and we kissed and embraced. I never once thought that I should say anything, I waited for her to speak and if she didn't, I figured we were good. 

Now I washed Fiona. She melted into me. I pressed my iron against her hot buttock and washed her hair. I felt the shape of her skull in my hands, felt her face relax and the grace of her neck. I soaped her muscled shoulders and with both hands washed her little tits. Fio pushed herself harder against me and my cock stood upright between her cheeks. I soaped her belly and then probed her sex. The wetness of the shower met with the slickness of her juices and I finger fucked her to climax. When she was done she reached between her legs and guided me home, bending at the waist to take my cock until we were as close as two people can be. We moved together in silence, the water spraying over her back, the rivulets finding the channels of her spine and ribs and then running down her honey colored moons. When she was ready for me she reached around and clamped a hand on my ass cheek and jerked her body against me until I came and came hard. I could feel myself burst and pump deep into her. I held Fio around the waist with both hands, pulled her up onto her toes and tried to bury my cock deep until the burning stopped.

Fio turned and kissed me. She locked onto me with her almond eyes, "Johnny? Do you believe what they say, that if you save a life, that you then take responsibility for that life?"

I turned the water off and pushed her hair back. There was nothing remarkable about her face, it was almost bland, unfinished, but it had a perfect symmetry and balance, it was a face you could spend a lifetime painting and would always want to look upon one more time. "Yeah, I guess I do. Yeah." I said. But even as I answered, the question rang in my head; whose life has been saved?

Fiona pecked me on the lips pinched me, "I'm going to need some clothes."

"No problem."

Part II

Next morning I packed up and headed out to the truck. Fiona followed me onto the porch, Yeller along side. I threw a ladder on the rack and lashed it down.

"Hey Johnny." Fio called.

"Yeah. Fio."

"Did I forget to say thanks?" she asked taking a seat on the step.

I looked at her then, forearms resting on her knees, coffee steam blowing east and wondered how to answer that. Yeller and I had been living alone for years. I had really given up on chasing women and was concentrating on learning about myself and becoming comfortable in my skin. I read books, Jack London, Conrad, Toni Morrison, all kinds of stuff. I'd done allot of drugs, had fast friends, slept with friends of friends. Now I was banging nails and living by the river. I looked at this woman sitting on my stoop that my dog seemed to know the moment he met her. A woman who really didn't need to speak. I mean it was strange. She just didn't need to chatter and comment on useless things. She had no external dialog, none at all, I could be in the room with her not feel the need to fill the space with noise.

I reached into the truck and tossed her a set of keys.

"What are these?" she asked finger sorting them.

"To the Datsun."

"That?" she said pointing to the '73 B210 under the maple.

"Does it run?"

"Yeah it runs. Good car. No AC. Just don't blow through any red lights." I said from the door of the truck.

"I'll be home a little after five." I turned the key and brought the truck to life.

"Hey Johnny!" She yelled over the engine noise, then trotted over to the truck.

"Hey, Johnny! Thanks." she said 

"Now you've thanked me." I threw the rig in gear and headed down the road with a smile and hard-on.

"No. Thank you Fio." I said to myself.

Part III

Fiona pulled her shirt over her head, tossed it on the rail of the wagon and leaned back on open palms. Her hair was longer now than when we'd met and she wore it tied back, if anything it made her look more boyish. I liked that about her, her boyish looks, her slim hips and her little breasts. But while she may have had boyish looks; if you put her in a short skirt and and a tank top, you could watch the women watch their men. Fiona was attractive and possessed a nonchalance that caused men to do things to get her attention. Months of working in the woodlot and gardens and toughened her hands. Her skin, that was honey colored when she crashed into my life was now bronzed and freckles ran across the bridge of her nose. Fiona was still quiet but in our months together she had become relaxed, playful and affectionate.

The light of the burn pile played across her bare shoulders and erect nipples. The fire highlighted the plains of her face and cast it half in shadow. Her eyes were dark pools that flashed amber. I stood between her legs and worked to button of her shorts. Fio pressed warm course hands hard against my stomach and roughly inspected my ribs, chest, shoulders and arms. I tensed my body as she made her way. When she squeezed a muscle I flexed it. I liked her hands on me and I wanted my body to please her. She opened my jeans, pushed them down, then laid back and shucked off her shorts.

On my knees now I pushed my face into her pussy. I inhaled deeply through my nose and dug my toes into the cool earth. The two of us were dirty and sweaty. Fio's pussy smelled of urine and musk. I parted her damp hair and dug my tongue into her sweet clean folds. I knew how she liked to eaten. She had shown me. "Here" she would say placing a finger on the spot to lick. "Here" she would say reaching for her g-spot. I took my time. I enjoyed the dirty, tangy scent of her sex and labor. I enjoyed having my tongue in her, of gently pulling her clit between my lips. I took my time so that I could look up at her in the shifting light of the fire. So I could watch the rise and fall of her belly as she breathed. I ran my tongue over the sensitive parts of her sex and watched her ribs rise as she arched her back. I drew out her sweet juices and smelled the piss in her hair and watched her twist her graceful neck and chin and saw the fire glint off a single tooth from her open mouth. When she came she kicked hard against my shoulders, rolled her hips up and invited me to push hard and lick deeply into her snatch. Fio's juices flowed heavy now, thick and sweet. I drew her honey out with my tongue time and again until she relaxed and her breathing slowed. She held my one hand against her belly and with the other I pulled on my cock. I held it tightly and moved the skin up and back in a frenzy until my hot seed exploded into the cool night air. We stayed like that for a for a long time, Fiona on her back and me with my mouth on her sex, stroking my cock and fondling my balls. I could see that Fiona's eyes were open and that she was watching the sparks from the fire as they rose into the night sky and died.

Part IV

It was a Saturday morning. I wandered out of bed and found Fio drinking coffee and reading a book, she was in her running clothes.

"Burnt Pond?" she asked putting her book aside. No good morning or anything, just right to the question.

"Burnt Pond it is." I replied reaching for the coffee grinder.

"Coffee's made." she said without looking up.

"Okay." I reached for a bagel and the knife.

"Bagel's all set and packed."

"Okay. Should I brush my teeth or is that set too?" I asked.

"Funny. We can take my car."

"Your car? You mean the Datsun?" I was starting to wake up now and sipping coffee from the thermal mug.

"Yeah." she said with a crooked smile, the brown eyes flashed and narrowed. She was obviously way more awake than me. She waited for my reply but somehow I knew better.

Burnt Pond was our favorite spot. It had always been mine and now it was ours. Fio had indeed packed us up for the day. Yeller knew where we were going by the gear that was packed and whined and moaned the whole way to the trail head. Fio parked the Datsun under a tree and we unpacked amid the pickup trucks and Audi's that had carried the mountain bikers to these woods.

The Burnt Pond run was where I had introduced Fio to trail running. She had obviously run roads and probably cross country, but never trails. She took to it and excelled. We shucked on our light packs and started running. Fio and Yeller took the lead. The first 2.5 miles is a climb. Never steep, but steady. I followed Fio's bouncing form. Her pony tail switched back and forth across her shoulders and she held her head steady. Fio was a natural on the the trails, she read the terrain and picked a clean line. She had fast feet and kept them moving, dancing through the rock gardens and exposed roots. As we ran we picked off the mountain bikers one by one. There is nothing sweeter than seeing a big tough mountain biker being passed by a girl on foot. These guys would always stop when she passed and watch her go on. I would say something like, "Hey man, great day huh?" But inside I would be bursting with pride. I know the guys she passed would be thinking of Fio and telling stories for days. Fiona was ripped, beautiful square shoulders with deeply cut muscle definition. Any guy watching her attack an up-hill would see her chin pointed up the hill, fists and knees driving and abs hard and flat as a plate. I knew that on Monday they would be telling their friends about the chick that passed them on the trail.

Yeller hit the pond at full speed, took a couple turns then exploded out of the water and shook himself. If dogs smile, he was smiling. The nine miles to the pond passed in no time, the day was perfect, late summer, not a cloud, warm and windless. Burnt Pond is a small high lake with exposed rock all around and views in every direction. In the center is an island with a pine stand that survived the fire that had exposed the rock on the shore. We stowed our gear in a dry sack that I tied around my waist and we swam naked to the island.

On the island we sat on the rocks in the sun and ate our lunch in silence. When we finished we moved under the cover of the pines and made love on a small blanket we had laid on the soft forest floor.

I never took Fiona for granted, never treated her as just a punch. Her love was gift. I didn't know why it was given to me and I didn't know where it came from. When we made love that day I had so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to kiss her forever. I wanted my kisses to tell her things and not just be the thing you do before you actually fuck. I wanted to kiss her until she knew my thoughts. When I went down on her I imagined myself playing a song for her, I had rhythm and melody and tried to play through her and to reach her. When we were together and I was inside her I wanted to crawl inside and plant my thoughts in her womb.

Fiona sensed my need and responded by loving me in a nurturing way. She opened her self to me, she pulled me in with her arms and wrapped her legs around me. Fio kissed my neck and comforted me. Fiona lay on her back and spread her legs wide. Her pussy was slick and swollen. She took the head of my cock and guided it into her warmth then pulled me in deeply. In my head I could hear her say, "Come inside, be with me, we are one. This is sanctuary."

Our lovemaking beneath the pines that day was sweet and kind and melancholy. Our bodies were strong from running and each of us passed that strength to the other.

We were through we lay on our backs holding hands.

"Where were you going on the day of the crash?" I asked.

There was a long pause.

"I never made it." she said giving my hand a squeeze.

"Where were you coming from?" I tried another tactic.

"Someplace dark." she said. Her hand went soft and I could feel a stillness come over her.

"Help me out here Fio, I never asked and I need to know."

Fio threw a leg over and sat astride me. Her knees were by my ribs, her hands on my shoulders.

"Why do you think I got in the truck with you that day Johnny?"

"I don't know Fio, I honestly don't know." I was suddenly very tried and a little sad that I had finally asked.

She looked down at me with warm brown eyes, "Because you didn't care that I did. You weren't trying to get over on me, you gave off no vibe. You were nice."

"Oh great, so now I'm nice." no one likes to be a nice guy. Dangerous maybe, but not nice.

"And you have a world class ass." she said giving me a little punch.

"World class? Really? You have a world class ass my friend, not me."

"No Johnny, I have GREAT ass. Yours in world class. And you have no idea and that's why I got in the truck."

"Okay." I said and then waited. Fio was talking now and I needed her to continue.

"Do you know that you don't have a calendar in your house?" the brown eyes were burning me now.

"Yeah I do..."

"No Johnny. Not one. Where I was coming from there was one in every room. There were calendars everywhere. Every day of my life was planned for months and years in advance. I felt like I was being held under water, that if I opened my mouth I would drown. The day you smashed into me I was going from the dark to the light. In your house one day just leads to the next and I don't feel shut in. You don't make plans for me Johnny. You don't try to make me be you or something you need me to be for you. You have no idea what that means to me."

"What are we doing Fio?"

"We're talking Johnny." she said with a little smile.

"No, we, us. What are we doing. One day I am living down by the river and the next day - Fiona. Are we Johnny and Fio? Or are we John? And Fiona?" My hands were on her knees and I held them waiting for an answer.

"I don't know Johnny. Sometimes a life is a just a life. Some are planned like mine was and some are not. Johnny, can't a life just be a string of days? A life where every day you decide what your life will be? I love you Johnny. Today I think our life is together, but I'm not planning. I sometimes think we might be waypoints. But it might turn out that we are destinations. You want me Johnny. And I want to be wanted, but you don't need me."

"Wow. I don't need you?" I responded, "Maybe I do. Maybe my life is better than it was before you. Maybe I didn't need you before I knew you but now I do." We were sitting now, legs twined together.

"What the fuck Fio."

"Johnny. You don't need anyone. You're whole. Another reason I got in the truck. You weren't looking for missing pieces of yourself that you might get off of me. I want to be whole, like you, but I haven't been at it as long as you have."

We sat for a long time then, naked in the woods, souls bare, leaning against each other, looking out through the pines at the water, the shore beyond and mountains beyond that. Maybe life could be a string of days. Maybe you just start walking and everyday you wake in a new place, look at new mountains and deal with that day. Then you walk some more. A string of days. Life made up as you go along. Was that how I had been living my life? One thing I felt sure of was that I would know Fiona my whole life. That even if we were waypoints, she would be in my life. I believed that Fiona had Fallen and that each of our lives had meaning to the other.

Fio's cheek was soft and warm against my shoulder, she gripped my bicep with both hands, she was so still she could have been sleeping.

"I love you Fio."

"I love you Johnny."

"String of days?"

"String of days."

"You know I'm going to kick your ass on the run home right?"

"I know you'll try Johnny."

"I have a hard-on."

"I can help with that."

"String of days."

"String of days."

"Cool."



The Fiona Files #03



*Note - this is a chapter in the Fiona Files. These stores can be considered semi-autobiographical fiction, or just fiction. In these stories I will talk about Johnny and Fiona. Johnny is always the same person, mostly me. The Fiona Files is Johnny's journey. The character of Fiona is a mash of women, real and imagined. Enjoy. Please let me know if you have enjoyed my stories.

NewRyder

The Fiona Files III - My Good Ghost

PART I

Outside the window was the city of San Francisco. The rooftops of the wood frame buildings receded into the early morning light. Her name was Fiona. I tended bar in the Marina district. With her I always felt young. She said I was quiet but I just didn't know what to say and besides, being quiet around Fiona was okay. I liked to look and listen to her and try to figure out what made her attractive because she was not beautiful. Fiona was short, she was around five-four and strong with an ample firm ass. She had small breasts and wore heavy glasses. She had a smile and directness that was out of place in the city, she would talk and tell me about herself, her life in the city, laugh at her own little jokes and not mind that I just listened. I guess I was good company, didn't try to impress her or tell lies about myself. In the shower I would wash her back, neck and ass, working cloth between her legs until she became shaky. With her glasses off and water running down her face she was nearly sightless and looked vulnerable. She allowed me to share her private moments and asked nothing of me.

I looked to the right, out the arched window in the gable of the house and out into the city. Fiona had disappeared; heat and light filled my loins, hot shifting light, burning madness and laughter. I arched and shifted; I shifted and grabbed the cool pipes of the bed. Fio was under the covers giving me head, that much I knew, the rest was just light, white hot light melting the head of my cock, baking the shaft, her mouth was wet, hot and alive. Fiona worked my cock until I came inside her, she held me in her mouth until my spasms stopped. I listened to her breathing through her nose and pushed my fingers through her hair. When she raised herself she wore a clever smile and kissed me full, the taste of cock and semen strong in her mouth.

I held her against me then, her ass against my burning erection, my shoulders eclipsing hers, I reached my hand to where she was wet, parted her coarse hair and dipped a finger into her hungry cunt. I kissed her neck, nibbled at her ear, buried my face in her hair. I made my breath hot and silent on her neck and worked the smooth wet places of her pussy. She moaned now and turned to kiss me but I didn't let her. She tried to straighten now but I didn't allow for that either. I held fast, and she was strong too. My finger stayed busy looking for a rhythm, trying to find a way to reach her. She squirmed trying to pull away but I was behind her, holding tighter, finding that rhythm now, bringing her closer. I took Fiona deeper into my arms and pressed my hand farther down scooping out her slick juices with my finger and rewetting her burning hood. She struggled once more to free herself then cried out as crashing orgasms overtook her. I eased my grip and kissed her softly as her ragged breath evened out and her heart slowed its' pace. When she was done she hugged my arm, kissing it up and down.

PART II

You've got a friend in Pennsylvania. That's all it takes. One car easing past me and I'm back in the memory of Fiona, born in Pennsylvania, moved to San Francisco.

I was man in hiding, stepping away from love I'd known and lives I'd led to be a man not known. I had my Nikon, I had a legal pad, a job, a bed and a phone.

Fiona had possessions. Fiona had made a home, she had a space, a world. Her room was up a narrow spiral stair and I'd have to keep my head down as I made the final turn. When my head came up I would be in her world. There was her dresser, crowded with small boxes and pictures, there was her desk with pocketed notes and loose change. A brass bed sat at angle under the long, low plaster ceiling, next to a rocking chair. When we lay in bed I was gone from the world of twenty dollar bills and car horns and into a feminine world beneath the shingles.

Fiona was a confident lover who took her own journeys. Love seemed to slide and float, never hitting awkward moments.

When we made love we moved with one another, she would move and I would go there, I would move and she would be there waiting. It was all as easy as moving a kiss from a neck to an ear.

Fiona lay beneath me her legs hooked around my calves, she held me by the shoulders and pressed her forehead hard to mine. She pulled to match my efforts and held off her orgasm until she felt me start to die, then slammed her hips and forced me deep, my whole length swelling, then glowing like wand and finally blasting away inside her. We lay together now kissing for a while, laughing softly, our heads burned where she'd pressed them together. I eased my way out and she held me firmly for a moment with the muscles of her vagina and then let go. Kissing her long I moved down the curves of her body and slid beneath the bed covers. I kissed her hard nipples, licked her belly, put her strong ass in both my hands and filled my nostrils with the heady smell of our mingled juices. Her lips were swollen and hot, her cunt hair pushed back and sticky. I flew around flipping her clit back and forth, clasping her lips in mine and pulling. Fiona responded by tilting herself up to meet me and catching my hair in her fists. I spun her labia, pulled myself away, blew cool air on her burning pussy and then plunged my tongue deep inside her to retrieve my tangy steaming seed. I licked back heavy gobs of my hot cum and mashed her clit with my open mouth. I was everywhere inside her. Fiona silently bucked, her pelvis in a frenzy. Her already swollen vulva rose like bread, then she began to cum, I ate that too. Then we were quiet again, kissing, her talking and telling stories as the dusty sun advanced across the polished floor bringing with it car horns and twenties

PART III

Fiona sat close to me on a pillow, her legs folded under the low table. The owner dotted on us, telling stories about the hot, sweet food the waiters brought around. The North Beach restaurant was deserted except for the staff and us. I talked about myself, a thing I never did with Fiona. I was moving back to Vermont. I had nothing there really, but I had run my course in the city. She and I realized too late that we were in love. How stupid we had been. We had sought out experience, not love and had not the wisdom to see or know love when it was in our grasp. Why do people hurt each other when it is just as easy to heal? Why did I not ask her for her love when it was the one thing I needed? Why did she not ask me?

I recall her smile, never cheap and full of teeth, but full, warm and personal. She would hug my arm and coax me into a laugh - laugh, come on, you can't help yourself, you see? In my memory the evening had a warmth that ran through our bodies and joined us. It was a warmth that drew in all available light and closed the night around us. We drifted closer to one another, sharing food, leaning near to hear secrets of the soul. Being with Fiona that night was like growing old together and reliving a memory. Can two people know when something important is happening? Can they sense the sorrow of love even before it's lost? Can they ever pull back from the brink folly? We had hurt each other and I assure you that is boring story. We had been non-exclusive and it cost us. Fiona was leaving too, moving back to Pennsylvania. She wrote down her mothers number and to this day I regret losing it.

I bought the dinner. She knew I was being brave. I was nearly broke and dinner broke me but I never let on. I think Fiona knew and saw it as the gesture that it was.

We stood outside in the drifting fog. I leaned against the fender of her old Toyota and she leaned into me, her sweet face against my chest, thigh in my crotch. I can now close my eyes, tilt my head back and memories of her sweep in like high moving clouds. I see simple things, riding with her on her bus route with her dressed in a business suit. Together seeing Raging Bull on it's opening run, her breakdown of the screenplay and loving her. I see Fiona above me, ass spread out on my legs, eyes closed, clever smile, tight pussy stretched wide, rising and falling. There we are on an early morning, sleeping face to face, waking to see her hand tucked between her legs, eyes squeezed shut, silently climaxing next me, nostrils flared and mouth open, breathless. I recall as if it were today her sitting on the bed edge, undressing her like a servant, button by button, shoe, sock, kissing, licking bare toes, taking them in my mouth, sleeve, bra, licking nipples, armpits, neck, the smell of hair, belt, button, zipper, caressing, loving.

We parted at the car. She drove off to nurse a head cold and I went to North Beach to hear Charlie Musclewhite play the blues.

Fiona haunts me, she is my good ghost, she comes and goes as she pleases but I can call up memory her whenever I feel lonely.



The fire



The fire rose into the night, twisting and turning. It threw embers to the sky, its heat and light drawing the crowd like human moths to a giant candle. And like the fire, those people too, twisted and turned their bodies in constant motion, dancing to a driving rhythm that was more than the music blaring from speakers. It was the rhythm of the fire, old as time.

She felt that rhythm deep inside her self as she swayed in front of the huge bonfire. She didn’t mind the slow drizzling rain that fell or the mud that was everywhere. She felt only the heat, and longed to feel more of it in her.

As she danced, she noticed the men watching her. Some single, some married like her. Her ample breasts strained against the thin shirt she wore. As the rain dampened it, her nipples stood out prominently, and knowing they watched her made them harder. 

The song ended and people drifted away to tents to retrieve more liquor, more dope, and more potions and concoctions to make the night more surreal nd fantastic. She walked to the cook tent, a need for food outweighing a need to get high. At least right now. As she fixed a plate, she felt a pair of eyes staring at her. She turned suddenly and bumped into him. She laughed and started apologizing, but realized she knew him. The face and name clicked suddenly and she remembered him from last year. He had expressed interest in getting together last time, and lived close to her back home. But schedules never worked out and she hadn’t thought of him in months. They chatted for a moment, small talk to reacquaint themselves and talk about all that was going on around her. 

But then her eyes started to wander over his tall, lean frame. At the same time he leaned close and whispered in her ear, “You have the most incredible looking tits. Every guy out there was watching you and is talking about them.” His words made familiar warmth begin between her thighs. “Well how would you like to get a better look at these incredible tits?” she said, her own words shocking part of her, delighting another. He smiled and nodded the want between them growing as evident as the bulge in his shorts. 

She stepped out of the tent to look around for anyone she knew. No one was around. Her husband would be at the other end of the campgrounds, probably talking business with someone. “God why wouldn’t he just loosen up a little, just for the weekend,” she thought. While everyone else here gave in to drink and drug, and the pleasures of the flesh, he would stay painfully in control and not understand why she got so wild and uninhibited out here. 

They started walking off towards the darkness beyond the glow of the fire and the camp. The ground was slick with mud and the rain seemed to be getting harder, but neither minded. They walked until they were a few hundred yards from the camp, still able to hear the sound of the music, but not be heard by the others. He led her underneath a large cedar tree, its needles and branches having kept the ground around it a margin drier than the rest of the ground. Knowing they would not be interrupted they began to give in to the fire.

He pulled her to him and they kissed, hard, hungrily. His hands slid under her shirt wanting to feel those incredible tits. She broke the kiss and stepped back for a second. She pulled the shirt over her head, and reached behind to undo her bra. Now free her plump, but rather firm 38DD breasts were his to enjoy. He fell to his knees in the mud and began squeezing them, his mouth latching onto a nipple and sucking hard. She moaned at the intensity of the feelings and pulled him to her, nearly smothering him with her cleavage. 

“Do you like what you see, or should I say feel?” she asked with a laugh. With his mouth full of nipple he muttered yes and began licking his way around each breast. The sensations were causing the heat between her legs to grow and she could feel the wetness begin to seep out of her pussy, dampening her thong panties.

She pushed him back for a second and dropped to her knees now, She kissed him more, and then pushed him down so he was lying on the ground. Her hands reached down to undo his shorts and he smiled knowing of her love for sucking cock. She was a veritable fiend for oral sex, and would admit it freely. His shorts slid off and his thick seven inches sprang out. She moaned at the sight of his manhood and with no preliminaries took him into her mouth, sliding her lips down the shaft. In two seconds she deep-throated him, loving the feel of his cock pulsing in her throat and mouth. She slowly slid back up, sucking as hard as she could and released him with a loud pop. He had gasped at the first sensations and let out a half moan, half shout at the end. She grinned fiendishly and began to suck him with fervor. She didn’t want him to cum, but she rarely got to suck such a nice big cock, so she was going to by God enjoy it.

After a few minutes of bliss for both of them, she released him and climbed on top of him. ”Now lets fuck. Let’s fuck like animals out here in the mud and rain.”

He answered her by growling and suddenly grabbing her. She squealed with delight as he rolled her on her back, and reached down to remove her muddy shorts. In a flash they were both fully naked and in another flash, he slid his throbbing rod deep inside her tight wetness. She wrapped her legs around him and grabbed his ass, begging him to fuck her hard and fast. The fire in her cunt was an inferno now, and only his cock, his cum would put it out.

The rain began to come down harder and the sheltering branches could not protect them now. But as the water fell on them, it spurred them on. Soon he was pounding into her, his cock like a piston sliding into her. She raked his back with her nails and swore like a cheap whore at him, begging him to fuck her, describing how good it felt to be fucked like an animal in the mud and rain.

Their pace became more frantic now, her orgasm approaching. Suddenly the first one hit her and she screamed it out, her body shuddering under him as he drove into her even harder. As the feeling subsided, he slowed and looked down at her. “I want you from behind, I want to fuck you like a dog, like a horse takes a mare.”

He got off and she quickly rolled to her knees. Her ass was covered with mud, and he wiped it off with his shirt. He rubbed the tip of his cock over slit, teasing her clit, until she turned and told him to hurry up and fuck her. He placed the tip of his cock against her dripping snatch and with a bestial roar, drove it deep into her with one hard stroke. She screamed at the sudden invasion. She had expected to be filled, but never so violently or suddenly. She gasped at the sensation, then gave in to it. She thrust her ass back against him, encouraging him to fuck her hard and deep. They started going and soon he was pummeling her from behind. She felt his balls smack against her as his stomach slapped her ass. She soon came again and could feel him getting close. His motions became more frenzied, his moans louder. Suddenly she felt his cock swell and with one last stroke he buried his rod deep inside her as his seed filled her. As he came, her last orgasm was triggered and she shook and screamed at the pleasure she was feeling. 

After a long moment, he leaned back and withdrew from her. She looked at her watch and realized they had been gone only ten minutes. She turned to face him and saw his cock, still hard glistening with their juices, She crawled to him and took him in her mouth, milking the last of his juices and savoring the taste of her own. He knelt, eyes closed at the feel of her mouth. She released him and knelt facing him. They kissed again, more softly, both feeling the warmth of their bodies against the cool rain that fell on them. They stood and quickly dressed both deciding they had fallen down in the mud while dancing. That’s what they would say to explain the mud all over them. As they reentered the camp, a few people eyed them suspiciously then knowingly smiled. They rejoined the crown dancing around the fire once again. 

“Who knows,” she thought as she watched him dance with the flames. “I may have to have my fire put out again tonight.”



The Fire



It was a cold winter evening. It had been snowing for most of the day, but it had finally stopped a few hours earlier. As he sat looking through the pale reflection of the window, he could see the eerie shadows cast upon the fresh blanket of snow. In the shadows he could see subtle shapes and silhouettes that slowly mesmerized him. Then, as his imagination began to take over his conscious thoughts, the shadows began to take their own form. Suddenly each of them began to move, to take on its own personality, and to have its own meaning. As he watched the shadows and their hypnotic dance, he began to lose track of the present. His inner thoughts took over. He was slipping away to another place.

He felt himself being transported to this other place. Slowly his mind began to focus on this new place. It was a night and a place much like the one that he had just left. Or had he just left it? The line between reality and this place wasn't clear any more. The room was lit only by the dancing flames of the fire place. The same shadows were dancing around the room. He could hear soft music emerging from the background over the crackle of the fireplace. As he was immersed deeper into the setting, a flood of emotions overcame him. These were sweet emotions that he hadn't felt for a very long time. He always knew that the emotions were there, hiding somewhere waiting to be rediscovered. Waiting to be set free. He knew they were there, he just hadn't seen or felt them for a long time.

He felt himself being drawn to the fire. He left the window and sat down in front of the hearth. All the while allowing himself to be continually drawn deeper into the moment. Then a warm hand reached out and softly touched him. This touch didn't startle him however. Instead it was a familiar, sensuous, reassuring touch that he had come to know very well. He looked down beside him, and there she lay. She seemed as if she wasn't quite asleep, but not quite awake either. The faint smell of her perfume gently filled the air. As he looked at her, and listened to her peaceful breathing, his mind began to recreate the wonderful experience that they had shared only a short while ago. The passion, the love, and the lovemaking were all very vividly etched into his mind. Now that it had ended, she was lying on the floor, peacefully covered with only a blanket. The only parts of her that were exposed were her head, a bare shoulder, and the hand that had just reassuringly touched him. He couldn't help but stare at her. 

He silently wondered, "How could one person have such a dramatic effect on every aspect of my life?" Everything about her amazed him. From the complex, inner workings of the woman that she is, to the cute, almost girlish smile that she used when she wanted to get her way with him. The sparkle of her eyes had always dazzled him. Her hair was like silk in his hands. Her skin was soft, like the petal of a rose. She seemed to always know his thoughts and feelings, no matter what the situation. She was always strong when she needed to be, and soft and vulnerable when the time was right. She knew the answers to questions that were never spoken. 

Unconsciously, he began to lightly stroke her skin. He knew that she wasn't perfect. She had imperfections in her physical appearance, and her own little personality quirks, but none of that ever seemed to matter. He had always been taken by her inner beauty. It shone through like a brilliant burst of sunlight on a dark, stormy day. Her inner beauty included a kind heart, a quick wit, a gentle nature, and a zest for life. However, it was all highlighted by unconditional love and passion.

He had known that there was something special about this woman from the very instant that he had come to know her. There was something about her that had tugged at his heart strings from the beginning. He remembered clearly all of the time that he had spent soul searching and asking himself, "Could she be the one that I have waited so long to find?"

Then he thought of the complete joy he felt as the romance, then the love began to blossom. He realized that these feelings had surfaced in him again as he sat there remembering the feeling of new love, then the realization of true love. As his thoughts went deeper, he was saddened by the fact that he hadn't always shown and celebrated these feelings for her. He wasn't always as affectionate, caring, and romantic as he should have been. No, she had never said anything about it, but then again a woman of her grace wouldn't. She had always known his true feelings even if he was inadequate in expressing them. Her unconditional love wouldn't allow her to. 

At that moment, an unconscious decision was made somewhere deep inside of him. From now on he would show her the attention, love and affection that he knew that she wanted and loved to have shown to her.

She began to stir a little. Then for a brief second, she opened her eyes, and gave him a faint smile. He felt his heart melt. Lyrics from a song suddenly came into his mind. The words seemed so appropriate. "Stars above, how did I ever win your love? What did I do, What did I say to turn your angel eyes my way?" It all seemed so right, as long as she was in his life, everything would be right in his world.

A sudden loud pop from the fireplace startled him, and he snapped out of his dream like state. Yet, he wasn't by the window looking at the shadows in the snow any more. He was in front of the fireplace with his wife. "It must have been a dream." he said to himself, "I could have sworn that I fell asleep by the window looking at the snow." It was then that the realization of the moment hit him. He looked down at her, and she was still laying in the same place, and in the same position that she was in his dream. He realized that he truly had the woman of his dreams. At the time of one of his deepest fantasies, he was having the fantasy about the woman who was laying right beside him. Yes, the emotions were real, not just part of a dream or fantasy. She was also real, and there with him. He realized that he had acquired a love that all wish for, but most can only dream of. For some reason, fate had made his dreams come true. In that moment, he knew that he was the luckiest, and most blessed man alive, because love had smiled on him in the kindest of ways.

He laid down next to her and slowly drifted off to sleep.



The Fire at Enzo's



"Ugh! I hate this place," Audrey grunted into her sleeve, as she wiped sweat from her brow.

This place being Enzo's, the upscale Italian restaurant she waited at in uptown D.C. 

She quickly picked up the two plates of spaghetti and meatballs, and rushed out of the kitchen to serve her customers. Her long, curly ponytail brushed against her shoulder blades as she made her way through the tables in the dining room. Her long legs, so tired from moving around all day, not seeming to move fast enough to her customers' table. When she finally got there, she placed the plates on the table.

"Alright, here are your two spaghettis. Is there anything else I can get for you?" Audrey said through gritted teeth as she forced a smile, and shown bright eyes to the couple sitting in front of her. Something she was almost too good at.

The pale woman with tacky fire-engine red hair cleared her throat obnoxiously, and pursed her red painted lips harshly. "As I recall, I asked for no garlic in my spaghetti sauce. And, there's clearly a huge clove of garlic right here." The woman stared up at Audrey as if she were stupid.

Audrey quickly picked up the plate.

"And, I am so sorry about that. I will have that fixed for you in no time." She said, before she turned on her heels, back towards the kitchen.

"Who the fuck would eat at an Italian restaurant if they don't like garlic." She thought as she pushed through the kitchen door.

"What now? Why are you bringing dishes back when its your last table, Audrey?" The young, handsome sous chef yelled across the kitchen towards Audrey.

"No garlic." She stated, as she dumped the spaghetti into the compost bag, and put the plate on a cart of dirty dishes that looked as if it would topple to the floor at any second.

Dylan, the sous chef stared at her blankly. He was tall, standing at about 6"2' with very short blonde hair. He had some of the bluest eyes Audrey had ever seen, with a lean, muscular body. He was drop-dead gorgeous, to say the least. Not to mention, he was witty, sarcastic, and wickedly intelligent. Audrey and Dylan were pretty close friends, and the other waitresses always tried to push Audrey to ask him out. But, Dylan wasn't really her "type".

"I'd really love to meet the person who wants no garlic in their Italian food. If it has no garlic, I don't even think its considered Italian!" He yelled, as he threw another pan on to the stove so he could fire up more tomato sauce.

Audrey giggled at Dylan's outburst. "I thought the same thing." she added, putting her hands on her hips.

"I didn't like Susan at all, but why did she have to go and get herself fired. Handling all these tables is hell." He stared down at the pan, referring to the last executive chef at Enzo's, who met her demise just like the million of chefs before her. They just didn't seem to last too long there.

"Well, at least this is your last day of it. The new chef is coming in tomorrow. I heard he's pretty amazing." Audrey said, flashing a smile at Dylan. He always seemed to make her smile without even trying.

"I hope he is. I couldn't take too much more of this."

"I can't take too much of this lady-bitch at my table. I'm trying to get her fat ass out of here, so I can go home." Audrey huffed, watching the pan of tomato sauce intently, hoping it would cook faster under her gaze.

Dylan winked at her. "Got plans, I'm assuming."

Audrey winked back. "You know I do!"

"You, Ms. Audrey, are a forced to be reckoned with."

Audrey let out a chuckle, as she watched Dylan plate the spaghetti. She started to feel relief for the first time since her shift started. Once this table left, she was free to get home to those plans she had.

* * * * *

Audrey had been home for 20 minutes, before she heard a knock on the door to her apartment. Those 20 minutes barely allowed her enough time to wash away the grime and muck after her shift at Enzo's. 

"She can wait." She mumbled to herself as she looked in the mirror.

Her dark brown eyes took in her reflection, from her wild curly hair, milk chocolate skin, small nose, down to the lips she always wished were fuller. She was wearing a black bra, and purple and black striped boy shorts. She slid her hands down her front, feeling her nipple piercings through her bra, and adjusting her navel ring. She went onto her tiptoes and pivoted, getting a quick look at her muscular, yet feminine butt. She put her hair into a bun and walked towards the front door. She looked through the peep hole and giggled.

"Now, this girl is so my type." she thought as she opened the front door for the beautiful, brown-skinned Dominican girl standing on the other side of it.

"What took you so long, baby?" Thalia whined, before she leaned up to kiss Audrey on her lips.

Thalia and Audrey kind of looked alike. Actually, when they were in public, they were often asked if they were related.

They both had the same wild hair, same dark brown eyes, and almost the same skin tone. But, Thalia had an exotic air about her. She had full lips, that matched her sensual curvy body, while Audrey was slimmer, having more of an athlete's body. Audrey was almost 5"10', while Thalia was barely pushing 5"5'. 

Thalia and Audrey met at their local grocery store, and Audrey put on her charm so she could get the girl's phone number. They'd been together ever since. Well, not really together. While Audrey had long ago come to terms with the fact that she was a lesbian (which was hard to do her in Caribbean family), Thalia still found it an uncomfortable topic, and never even considered telling her family. And Audrey had no deep-rooted problems with that, although it was annoying. Though she was undoubtedly attracted to Thalia, she found her to be needy and insanely clingy. Audrey had no interest in a honest relationship with her, but had a large interest with her body, and the things she could do with it.

Audrey pushed her body against Thalia's as she slipped her tongue into her mouth. Their tongues danced together, before Audrey started to pull away to leave tiny kisses along Thalia's jaw, down to her neck.

Thalia, forgetting the question she had even asked Audrey, slid her hands up along her lover's sides, her fingers swirling patterns against her skin. Audrey's hands moved up under Thalia's sun dress to rest on her luscious ass. Thalia groaned, and pulled away reluctantly, to hold up a plastic bag.

"I brought food." Thalia cooed, cocking an eyebrow up at Audrey, who took the bags from her, and placed them on the ground.

Audrey took Thalia's hand, and started to lead her towards the bedroom.

"I'm not hungry, babe." Audrey whispered into the girl's ear, causing her to blush. "At least not for that."

* * * * *

"Luke, I am your father." 

"Why do I have to wake up now?" Audrey thought to herself, as she untangled her sheets from her naked body to turn off her Darth Vader alarm clock at the other end of her bedroom.

She turned back to see Thalia pressing a pillow over her own face.

"God, if you weren't so sexy and amazing in bed, Audrey, I wouldn't be able to deal with your nerdiness." Thalia groaned. "I mean, everything's just Star Wars and Harry Potter with you."

"Bite your tongue. Potter's king." Audrey grumbled, as she walking into her bathroom and closed the door.

The junction between her legs was still slick from her very active night. She had 3 orgasms, and had given Thalia 4.

She turned on the shower, and hopped in, not even giving the water time to heat up. She hissed as the water cascaded down the front of her body, causing her nipples to harden. She then cursed herself for not locking the door, when she felt an arm snake around her slim waist.

"Here comes Cathy McClingy." Audrey thought to herself.

Thalia turned Audrey around to kiss her, but pulled back sharply when she felt Audrey wasn't reciprocating the kiss.

"You always do this shit, you know. We have an amazing night, and then you get weird and distant once the sun is up." Thalia spat, as she angrily scrubbed herself with Audrey's loofah. 

Audrey shrugged her shoulders, and furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm not distant; I'm just not a morning person." 

Both girls showered, never saying another word to each other. Thalia got out, and put her clothes on.

Audrey got out of the shower to find a fully dressed Thalia sitting at the foot of her bed.

"You're such a guy, I swear. You just don't care about my feelings, whatsoever. I like you a lot, and you just don't feel the same. That's why this is the last time I'm gonna be with you. I'm better than this, and I deserve someone who loves me as much as I love them."

Audrey was shocked. Yeah, everything Thalia was saying was true, but she hadn't expected her to say them.

Thalia got up, and began walking to the front door, with her head held high. Audrey followed, struggling to keep her towel wrapped around her body.

"Baby, I do like you. I like you a lot. I just have a hard time showing it." Audrey said, grabbing Thalia's hand.

Thalia pulled her hand away sharply.

"I honestly wish that was true." The last words Thalia spoke as she opened the door to Audrey's apartment and slammed it behind her.

Audrey stared at her door, blankly.

She didn't know what made her feel worse: the fact that she had hurt Thalia, or the fact that she knew she was hurting her and didn't care. She cared for a minute. No. No, she didn't. She didn't care. She really enjoyed the sex, but that was about it. They didn't go out much. Audrey always talked Thalia into a "quiet night at home". 

Her phone rang, shaking her from her thoughts. She walked back into the bedroom to see her cell phone flash "Jaime" across the screen.

Even through her guilt, Audrey smiled a little when she thought of her best and oldest friend Jaime.

They had met the first day of school in the 4th grade, and they were literally inseparable since then. Audrey couldn't imagine life without Jaime. She was her rock, and her voice of reason.

"Hey, girl!" Audrey heard her friend squeal through the phone, making her giggle.

"Hey, Jaime. What's up?" Audrey asked, not sounding as excited as she thought.

"Uhh, nothing. You sound weird."

"Yeah, girl problems. Whatever."

"Oh, well... I wanted to see if you wanted to go shopping with me. I'm sure that'll get you out of your funk for a little while."

Audrey shifted on her feet a little. She didn't really have enough money to go shopping. But, it would be fun, and she did miss her best friend.

"Ok" Audrey said. "I'll be at your place in like 30 minutes."

Audrey ended the call, and turned to her dresser.

Summertime in D.C. Was always hot and humid. Audrey dug through her drawers to find her tight-fitting, cotton, white-and-grey striped dress. It wasn't obscenely tight, but the soft fabric hugged her curves. She then found her oversized denim shirt, and threw it on, rolling the sleeves up to her elbows. She found her gold Gladiator sandals, put on eyeliner, and sprayed on some perfume. She swept her hair up into a high ponytail, as she walked through her apartment, and out the door.

She made her way through her apartment building, stopping at the elevator, before she decided to take the stairs. She hit the street, and walked a block to the metro. As she waited on the platform for the train that would take her to Jaime's neighborhood, she thought of her predicament.

Audrey was 22 (almost 23), but at times she felt older. She had been out of college for a year and a half now, and hadn't gotten a real job yet. She partly waited because of the freedom it allowed her, despite being financially insufficient. It paid her enough money for an apartment, but that was about it. 

"Maybe, I need a change." She thought, stepping on to the train.

* * * * *

"Malls. The best place for people-watching, I swear." Jaime said, enthusiastically.

Audrey nodded, as her friend bounced from store to store contemplating buying things neither of them could afford. After about 40 minutes, both girls decided they could spare a few dollars on some caramel frappucinos, and found a table in the food court.

"So, what's up with you and the lady friend?", Jaime asked with her lips pursed together.

She had never taken to Thalia. She thought Audrey was wasting her time on some "shell". She called Thalia a "shell" because she was physically appealing, but had no personality. Just a pretty, empty shell.

"She broke up with me this morning. Well, kinda. She said she deserved better than me, and she does." Audrey stated, letting out a sigh.

Jaime's eyes focused on Audrey's for a quick second.

"You don't really care. Cold-blooded..." She said, giggling. "Good riddance, she was a total dud. You two weren't compatible at all. And, how could she say that she deserved better? She had you living in her closet, for Pete's sake! Despite how much of a jerk you are, Audrey, you still introduced her as your girlfriend. She always introduced you as a friend or a co-worker." 

Audrey shook her head, thinking of the times she had felt less-than because Thalia hadn't come to terms with her own sexuality.

Audrey and Jaime sat in silence for a few minutes, just sipping on their cold drinks.

"We should have a little sleep over tonight!", Jaime exclaimed. 

Audrey laughed at her best friend's excitement. "I wish. I have to work."

Jaime opened her mouth to speak but Audrey cut her off before a sound could even escape.

"And, I can't take off, so don't even ask. The new chef is coming in. No way I'm getting out of that."

* * * * *

Audrey ran through the backdoor of Enzo's. She was literally 3 minutes late, but due to the importance of tonight, she knew she would get bitched out by Jeremy, the owner.

Upon reaching the dining room, she realized that all eyes were on her. The staff was seated at various tables while Jeremy and an unknown man were standing in front.

"How nice of you to make it to work today, Audrey," Jeremy scoffed, while Audrey looked for Dylan to sit next to.

When Audrey finally found Dylan and sat down, she began appraising the mysterious man who she assumed to be the new executive chef. He was all right. Nothing special about him. He didn't have that commanding presence most executive chefs had. And Audrey knew that presence oh-so-well from all the chefs that Enzo's had chewed up and spit out.

Jeremy's voice caught her attention.

"I know everyone is excited to meet the new chef. Unfortunately, he is a little lost, so we're going to give him a few more minutes. But, this man standing next to me is the new host I hired. Everyone say hi to Randy."

Everyone gave half-hearted "hellos" and "his", surely because he was only the host.

The dining room grew quiet, before there were 3 knocks on the front doors of the restaurant. All the staff members looked around at each other, a buzz of whispers filling the air.

"Can you open the door, Audrey? You're the closest," Jeremy huffed.

Audrey walked to the door, opening it quickly, and she was met with a pair of shoulders. She looked up further and her eyes locked with the grey ones of the beautiful man in front of her. She knew she was supposed to give him some type of greeting, but her words were trapped in her throat. She gulped (loudly) and stepped aside, allowing him to gracefully enter the room to greet Jeremy.

Audrey quickly walked back to her seat, almost knocking a chair over on the way there. Dylan knudged her and whispered something, but it didn't register. She couldn't take her eyes off of the new man.

He was several inches taller than Audrey, which made him a giant since she was a few inches shy of 6 feet tall. He had to be 6"4' at the least. And, he was older; maybe in his early 40s. He had salt-and-pepper hair, stubble, and crow's feet but they were charming and sexy. He was lanky, with small hoop earrings in each ear, and a huge spatula tattooed on his forearm.

Audrey was utterly attracted to him. And, in a sexual way. She didn't know him, and she wanted more of him. From his height and lankiness, to his sexy walk. From his Roman nose, to his square masculine jaw.

Jeremy cleared his throat to silence the room after he exchanged words with the man Audrey deemed as her new infatuation.

"Finally, our man of the hour," said Jeremy. "This is Iwan Maguire."