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Taking Ch. 2

By: SxxyLyssa



I knelt, naked, between my Master's legs, wrapping my hand around the thick base of His cock, squeezing lightly as I slid it up and down His length. He sighed in pleasure as He leaned back, closing His eyes. 

"Lick it." He murmured.

Obediently I trailed the tip of my warm, wet tongue from His balls to the tip of His cock, circling the swollen head, then wrapping my warm, wet lips around it and sucking gently, taking it deep into my throat. I sucked His cock contentedly, enjoying the look of satisfaction on His handsome face, and felt as He swelled in my mouth. I increased the pace, sucking Him harder, faster, bobbing up and down on His big cock. 

"Do you want my cum in your mouth, slut?" He asked, taking hold of my hair and shoving His cock deeply into my throat. I gagged and He chuckled, enjoying my humiliation as He shot a hot load of cum in my eager mouth. Too much it turned out, for most of it leaked out of my mouth and dribbled down my chin and unto my tits, just where my Master liked it. I licked up what I could from my mouth.

From behind me came a low, throaty groan. She was finally coming to! I looked pleadingly at my Master.

"Go to her." He said graciously.

I crawled over to her on all fours, sliding my eyes over her sweet curves, feeling desire building up between my thighs again. She rolled over unto her back, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks, holding her thighs tightly together.

"Morning, sunshine." I said. "Sit up."

"I - I can't." she moaned. "I hurt so bad."

"Sit up now!" I snapped. "My Master is here, watching."

She pulled herself up with effort, her jaw swollen, body covered with various black and blue marks, and now I noticed blood running down the backs of her thighs from her torn asshole.

"Maybe she's a little hungry." My Master said.

I looked at Him, seeing the familiar evil twinkle in His green eyes, and grabbed Leigh's face, shoving her mouth into the mess of cum covering my tits. "Lick it up, slut."

Pulling her face away in disgust, she spat: "Fuck you! You've had your fun with me now let me go! Please!"

I drew my hand back and slapped her hard across her already bruised jaw, a pleased smile spreading across my face as she burst into pained sobs. "Don't hurt me anymore, I'll do anything, please!"

"Lick up my Master's cum and be happy you can," I said.

She nodded submissively. I guided her blindfolded face to my tits, arching my back in pleasure when she licked over my taut nipples with her hot little tongue, sucking up every drop of cum on my chest, neck, and chin.

"Lindsey is coming over tonight." Master said suddenly, standing and walking out of the room. 

Rage boiled up inside me. Mistress Lindsey! I hated her. I ordered Leigh to lie down and followed my Master into the bedroom, knowing I was asking for trouble, but unable to stop myself.

"I hate her!" I said. "I don't want her here playing with my slut! She's mine!"

He turned slowly, a dark frown on His face. "Why are you speaking to Me like this?"

I struggled to control myself. His rage was terrible. "If it pleases you, I don't wish to let Mistress Lindsey play with her."

He smiled cruelly. "It pleases me to make you do what you do not want to. It pleases me to do things you do not want done. I know you hate Mistress Lindsey, and that is why she is coming over tonight. You are being punished for bringing her into this house without my permission, and now you will be punished for speaking to me like you have been, slut. Now go clean her up."

I lowered my head, face flushed with anger, and stalked out to the living room. Leigh was lying on her side, curled up into a ball, crying softly which only infuriated me more. "Get up. Now."

She sobbed as I turned the shower on in the bathroom, reducing the noise only when I snapped at her to shut up. I unbound her and pulled her into the warm spray with me, threatening more violence if she attempted anything. 

"I won't," she whimpered, turning her face into the warm water. "It feels so good."

The water ran down over her slim form, making her body slick and shiny. My pussy began to throb, my nipples hardened, and I pressed my body into hers, hearing her sharp intake of breath as I rubbed our nipples together in the warm, flowing water.

"Do you like that?" I whispered. "Does my little slut like her nipples rubbed?"

A low moan escaped her pretty mouth as I began running the soap bar down her arms, over her tits, and on to her flat belly. She turned and bent over to let me wash away the blood on the back of her thighs, offering an irresistible view of her cunt lips. I nudged my tongue between them, wiggling it into her hot opening, then ran it down and tickled her clit, circling it rapidly. Looking past her, I saw with delight that she was pulling at her nipples, the water dripping off the hard points.

"No, please don't," she cried. "Don't make me cum!"

I slid two fingers deep inside her steaming cunt, my thumb working her clit in slow, firm circles as I continued flicking my tongue over it. Her poor puckered asshole was swollen and red, but wasn't bleeding, and I took my free pinkie, sliding it very slowly past her clenching ass muscle. She moaned lustily, pushing her hips back, moving back and forth on my thrusting fingers, then crying out as she came, pussy contracting around my fingers in pleasure.

My hand flew to my own pussy and I thrust two fingers inside the hot confines, pulling my slut to her knees, pushing her mouth to my clit, demanding she lick it. Her hot tongue darted out, flicking over it, then began lapping it up and down as I continued finger fucking my horny cunt. I grabbed her wet head, feeling warm water trickling over us, and ground my clit into her mouth as I came hard, so hard, moaning.

"My good little slut!"

We rubbed our wet bodies together knelt on the shower floor, our hands going to the other's wet cunts. I bucked my hips back and forth, feeling her little fingers rubbing fast, as my own ground her clit in circles and we came again, hard and satisfying

"Good girl." I whispered to her. She flushed.

I turned her to face the wall and removed her blindfold, quickly shampooing her long, curly brown hair, tying it on again when I was finished. I did my own and turned the shower off, taking her hand and pulling her out, then towel drying each of us off. 


"Don't bother dressing." My Master called from the living room. "Get out here, both of you."

I heard Mistress Lindsey's guttural laughter before I entered the room. Leigh whispered: "Who is that?"

"Shut up." I ordered quietly. "Do as she says, got it? Anything."

I remembered the one time I had disagreed with Mistress Lindsey. My body had been covered with bruises and lacerations for weeks, both my pussy and ass torn from her antics. I hated her, most of it jealousy, for my Master put her in charge of me when she was here.

She sat on the couch next to Him, wearing a short black dress, sheer black stockings, and matching spike heels. Next to her was a black bag I knew contained what she called "instruments of pleasure". Mistress Lindsey was tall, about 5'9, slim with big tits, long blond hair, and cold brown eyes. Now she surveyed our naked bodies, smiling smugly as her gaze rested on my slut.

"She doesn't disappoint." She said, her gaze flicking to me. "Of course, my favorite little toy. Come here."

I looked at my Master and He nodded in affirmation. Knowing what pleased her, I knelt in front of her, avoiding her probing brown eyes.

"Good evening, Mistress Lindsey." I said trying to disguise my bitterness.

"Look at me, slut." She ordered.

I adopted a blank look as I lifted my head, meeting her gaze. "You two must have been having quite a bit of fun while your Master and Mistress sat here waiting for you. Do you think this pleases us?"

"No, Mistress."

She reached out for her bag, unzipped it, and rummaged around with extended relish, waiting for me to start my usual campaign of refusal to submit. When I did not, some of the excitement left her eyes, giving me a small stab of satisfaction. I was satisfied too soon, for what filled her eyes next was anger. Cruel anger.

"Get over here," she commanded my slut, pulling her dress up and over her head, leaving her in stockings and spike heals. "Please your Master with your tongue."

Leigh stumbled blindly towards Him and nearly tumbled headfirst into His lap before I grabbed her hand and pulled her down before Him. He took hold of her head and roughly thrust his hard prick deep in her mouth, muffling her cries of no, telling her how to lick him, how hard to suck him, to run her fingers over his balls.

Mistress Lindsay brought in the chair and ordered me into it. She strapped me in tightly, pinched my nipples, and rummaged through her black bag again. Jealous anger bubbled menacingly in my belly as she donned a strap on and knelt behind Leigh, looking over at me with a smart smile.

"No!" Leigh cried as Mistress rubbed the fake cockhead into her clit. Master stuffed his dick back into her mouth, silencing her as the strap on was thrust hard into her pussy. I watched my toy being fucked from behind by Mistress; the strap on covered with cunt juice, my Master's thick cock pounding at her sweet wet mouth, and the tears slipping down her cheeks. Mistress picked up a riding crop and cracked Leigh across the ass, the sting of the hit making me cringe.

"Do you like the way we're fucking your toy, slut?" Mistress Lindsay called over, her red nail-painted fingers digging into Leigh's hips, pulling her back against each plunge inside her. 

"She can't hear you!" my Master growled.

"Yes." I said forcefully, my pussy dripping. "I like the way you're fucking her, Mistress."

"Mmmm this little slut is going to make me cum," Mistress moaned as the smaller cock worked its magic up her own pussy. She cracked my slut across the ass again, a thin red mark forming seconds afterwards, my Master using both hands on her head, busily using her mouth for His pleasure. She was mine, and they were using her! I ached to scream out at them but discipline held me back.

"Yes! I'm cummmmming!" Mistress cried out, throwing back her blond head, breathing hard. She pulled away from my slut and walked to me, yanking my head back and sliding the drenched tool along my lips. 

"You like how she tastes?" Mistress hissed, nudging my mouth open. "Suck all her juice off."

She thrust the strap on down my throat and directed me on how to clean off the used toy, telling me to slide my tongue up and down the thick shaft, licking up every drop of Leigh's cunt juice, then making me do the same with the end Mistress used in her own hot pussy. The two juices together were the best I had tasted and my dripping pussy now pounding with the need to be fucked and used.

"What do you want, slut?" Mistress whispered into my ear, her tongue snaking out to slide along my sensitive lobe. I shivered in a curious mix of revulsion and sheer lust, fighting against a moan that swelled in my throat. 

She squeezed the fistful of hair she held harder. "I asked, what do you want, slut?"

"To be fucked!"

A small, smug smile. "By who, slut?"

"My Master!" I cried rebelliously as I stared at His glistening wet cock pulling in and out of my slut's mouth. I wanted him inside me so badly, fucking me like the little slut I was...

Mistress Lindsey pushed my thighs apart a little wider with the end of her riding crop (one of her favorite tools, I might add) and began sliding it up and down between my slippery cunt lips, circling it slowly, very lightly, around my screaming clit.

"I will ask you again. What do you want?" she murmured as I began pushing my hips into the sweet, torturous object she was using on me.

"To be fucked, Mistress!" I gasped. God, how I needed a hard cock inside me!

"By who, slut!"

I watched in hot agony as my Master pushed Leigh unto her hands and knee's, her sweet tight ass high in the air, slipping the tip of His rock hard dick just inside her dripping pussy hole. With one smooth, hard thrust he was deep up her steaming cunt and I cried out in pained jealousy as she was pulled into every shove of His prick. I wanted it! 

"Master, fuck me! Please!" I blurted. He looked over at me with clever green eyes and began fucking her even harder, driving her into the floor, spanking her ass with obvious relish.

"Ungrateful slut!" Mistress Lindsey said angrily. I yelped as she viciously slapped my pussy with the riding crop, once, twice, three, four, and five times, each with increasing strength behind it.

"Who do you want to fuck you, slut?"

"You!" I sobbed, my cunt burning.

"Who, slut!" she whacked me again.

"You, Mistress Lindsey!" I moaned. "Please fuck me! I need it!"

"What do you do before you get pleasure, bitch?" 

"I please my Mistress." I whispered.

She removed my straps and sat back on the couch, spreading her long, sleek legs, commanding my tongue into her cunt. I eagerly lapped at her very wet pussy, anxious to please her to get my own release. Rummaging around in her bag, she took out a thick, almost nine-inch dildo and handed it to me. I knew what she liked and immediately slid it inside her well used fuck hole, teasing her with long, deep strokes, alternating with laps of my warm, wet tongue. In minutes she was gasping in pleasure, grinding her clit into my mouth, calling me her little fuck slut. 

Mistress Lindsey groaned in satisfaction and stroked my silky blond hair. "My little slut. You're mine, aren't you?"

My cunt throbbed to be used, and I would say anything to ease the ache. "Yes, I'm yours, Mistress. Please, please fuck me now?"

At that moment, my Master turned my toy around and shot a hot, creamy load of cum unto her face, demanding she lick His cock clean as he finished. 

Mistress Lindsey smiled cruelly and shoved me away. "Your punishment is no satisfaction. Perhaps you will think twice about crossing me next time, slut."

She strapped me to the chair again to ensure I wouldn't take matters into my own hands. I glared at her hatefully as she and my Master took turns pleasing themselves with my toy, using her mouth, pussy, and delectable ass to their full. By the time they were done and sated, Leigh was sobbing and covered in my Master's cum, but not surprisingly Mistress Lindsey shoved her cunt in her face and was pleasured again by her tongue. How I hated her.

"Another night of unprecedented pleasure." Mistress Lindsey said as she kissed my Master, preparing to leave. "If I can be so bold, I believe Our slut can go without some pleasure for a day or so. Such a feisty bitch deserves whatever punishment we deal out. Keep her away from the new one also, they please each other."

He nodded. "I agree."

"Good." She sent a secret smile in my direction and was gone.

Master ran His fingers along my jaw line and chuckled when I pulled away from Him. "Perhaps you need a night in the chair to think about your transgressions, bitch. Meanwhile, your toy can spend the night with me."

I bit back tears of frustration and rage as He picked her up, carrying her away like a rag doll into the bedroom we had shared for so long, and taking away the possession I had taken for myself.

Left in the chair.

The hateful chair.

Taking Chances



Jerome swirled the champagne in his glass in a relaxed twirl of his hands as he watched the woman across the room toss back her gorgeous hair while laughing at something her companion said. He could tell it wasn't anything truly amusing; he had always been able to read her that way.

Besides, her companion didn't look like the sort who could make her laugh. The way he kept running his hands over his suspenders was evidence enough, Jerome thought with more than a little distaste. But who cared about him?

It was her, Jerome was mesmerized with. Her dark skin practically gleamed in the superior lighting of the large ball room. His own skin was naturally fair because of his Eurasian heritage.

Ah, but he still remembered how obsessed he had been about the contrast of their skins even when he had stroked her arm casually while talking to her. He could never pull his eyes away from the path his hands took over her smooth skin.

And her eyes, god.....those swirling depths could pull him in and never let him go. Would she still be the same? That expanse of smooth, soft skin, those eyes, that husky laugh that used to drive him insane whenever he heard it...

Jerome sipped his champagne, his masculine lips closing over the rim of his glass, and he hoped.

* * *

Amara laughed politely at yet another of Brian's jokes. They weren't that funny really, but was she to do? Brian was the boss's son, she had to be polite. But did he have to keep running his hands over his suspenders for god's sake? She still couldn't believe he even WORE suspenders. It wasn't like he was much older than herself, really. Hoping for a distraction from Brian's incessant chatter, Amara glanced around the room.

That's when Amara saw him, leaning casually against the fire mantel. It looked as if he was looking straight at her but he was too far to tell for sure.

Just then someone moved into her line of vision, blocking her view of him. she barely restrained herself from craning her neck to steal another look, even from this distance he had looked dangerous and exciting in his dark suit. 

Inconspicuously she tried to turn her head and steal another look, but to no avail. Sighing inwardly, she resigned herself to a night of laughing at Brian's jokes. Every. Single. One. She'd better be getting a pay rise soon.

* * *

All through dinner she kept trying to steal another peek at the man she had seen earlier, but he was nowhere to be found. It was strange but she felt as if she had seen him somewhere before. No matter, he must have already left the party.

After dinner, she escaped to the balcony on the second floor, away from Brian and all the other guests. She just needed some time to herself, she thought as she sipped her champagne with a quiet contented sigh.

'Hello Amara", a deep voice came from behind her. Amara turned, startled to see the man inn the black suit standing right behind her. Her gaze traveled over his designer suit which did nothing to hide the obvious masculine power in the breadth of his shoulders and mouth-wateringly muscular build. Then, she looked at his face and felt a jolt as familiar blue eyes stared intently back at her. 

"Oh my god. Jerome?!?"

Amara stared at him gaping, yes, it was Jerome from her old junior college. Those same blue eyes and grinning mouth, but everything else had changed. Age had sharpened his features making him look leaner and more handsome than ever. His tousled brown locks only accentuated his masculinity, making him look very dangerous. His body looked hard and unyielding and ultimately delicious.

Jerome moved forward and enveloped her in a warm hug, pulling her flush against his. hard body. Strong hands stroked the bare skin of her back in a tingling caress before he pulled away. 'It's been a long time Amara' .

'Yeah, too long. How have you been Jer?" 

'I've been doing okay, I went into architecture...that's what I'm doing here actually, the owner of the island wanted me to see if the terrains okay to build an ice rink'

Amara looked out, the wind was light and tropical, stirring the evergreen lightly as it passed over the small island that they were on. 'An ice rink, umm....well that's interesting I suppose.'

Jerome chuckled, 'Hey, I'm being paid to see if it's possible. I didn't say I thought any of this was sane.' Amara smiled.

'So what are you doing here?' He asked, leaning casually over the balcony railing.

'Well, my company sent me here on a sort of a learning getaway. So far the only thing I've learned is to stay as far away from Brian as possible.

'Brian..... And that would be the guy with the suspenders right? Man, what a geek.'

'Jer, Brian's not a geek. He's just very serious about following in his dad's footsteps.'

'Oh, god you're not going out with him are you?'

'No, we're just friends. And besides he's married to his job"

'And if he wasn't?'

'He wouldn't be my type.'

'Right... Hey, let's get out of here all right? We'll go for a walk.'

He held out his hand. Amara immediately took it, and then looked at their hands a moment. His long tapered fingers glowed bronze against her dark smooth skin as their fingers entwined. She shivered, the image was almost prophetic, she would think to herself later.

She glanced up, staring into his brilliant blue eyes and felt something stir deep in her. It moved like a tidal wave, setting fire to here heart and soul. 'Yeah, okay' 

Jerome grinned and led her down the winding stairs to the stretch of beach below. They walked down the beach listening silently to the surf.

'You want to sit down somewhere and just talk?'

'Yeah, I'd love to...but the sand will ruin my dress.'

No worries, I've got the perfect place in mind.' He smiled mysteriously and held out his hand once again, with absolute trust Amara placed her hand in his. This was Jer, her best friend in Jc...she could never come to any harm with him, she thought as hand in hand they made their way down the beach to the unexplored undergrowth just beyond

'Where are we going jer?'

'To this small cove I found when I was exploring the island earlier. I don't think anyone knows about it yet, so it'll just be you and me.' Jerome turned to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at her. Amused, amara merely smirked and rolled her eyes skyward. 

Jerome turned to make sure amara was doing okay. She was carefully picking her way through the undergrowth. The moonlight shining on them thankfully made their way easier and allowed Jerome to admire Amara at close range.

Her hair which had earlier been tied into an elegant knot now had been let loose, flowing in dark waves and tumbling across her face and smooth shoulders. He was glad that she was staring at the ground, so that she couldn't see the twin embers of desire burning in his eyes.

The last time he had seen her, he had been an adolescent, but now, he was a man with a man's needs. And she, he thought as his gaze raked down the cloth draped body he longed to undress; oh she was most definitely a woman.

Suddenly, they rounded the corner and Amara gasped, the beauty in front of her took her breath away. The small cove was surrounded by high rocks and glittering water which reflected the full moon shining down upon them. Jerome smiled at the look of wonder on amara's face.

'You look beautiful in the moonlight amara, I don't want to blink, I'm afraid you'll disappear and I'll be left with only the remnants of a dream.' He whispered as he stroked her cheek with his finger. 

Amara held her breath as he cupped her cheek and leaned towards her, the breath of his words falling warmly on her lips. 'Do you know have any idea how long I've wanted you Amara?' he pressed his hard body against hers, 'yearned for you? Do you remember the first day of Jc and you were standing near the school gate looking both lost and excited,' he reached for her right hand and placed it against his heart . 'I actually felt my heart skip a beat and I knew I had to find a way to meet you, be with you....touch you.'

'Jerome', she gasped his name through her parted lips, overwhelmed, 'I don't know what to say...' 

'Shh...For now, there's just this...' he pressed his lips to hers in one swift movement, melding their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss. His arms went around her waist and pressed her body flush against his. She trembled visibly as she felt the protruding hardness of him pressing against her soft belly and parted her lips in shock.

Immediately, he surged in, his tongue expertly stroking hers, exploring and tasting the hidden treasures of her mouth. Instinctively, she responded, her tongue tentatively exploring the hard contours of his lips.

There was an almost audible crack as his control snapped. 'oh god,' he whispered feverishly and tore his lips from hers, only to trail down her delicately arched neck and scrape his teeth lightly over her collarbone. 

An involuntary shudder tore through her lithe form, and a muffled sob emerged from her parted, glistening lips. His quick fingers sought out the hooks at the back of her dress and undid them one by one, excitedly exploring the soft skin that was exposed bit by bit.

'Jer,' she grasped his hands, holding them still a second before he made a move to pull down her dress and expose her completely to his eyes. Her eyes, clouded with desire cleared a little as reality crashed in.' I don't know if I can, Jerome. It's so soon, and it's been so long since I saw you. I really...'

'Amara, hush. You know me, you've always known me. We're still the same people we were back then,' his voice was a husky rasp against her ear. He carefully rubbed his hardness against the vee of her thighs and tingles of heat and pleasure shot through her, making her melt against his hard frame. 

Gently, so as not to scare her, he hooked his fingers into the sides of her dress and tugged at it, drawing down slowly...exposing her to his eager eyes.

She was beautiful, naked in the moonlight, all sleek curves and soft skin. His eyes roved over her body, learning every inch of her. His eyes turned to a dark, cobalt blue as they filled with heat and barely suppressed desire.

Amara felt all her inhibitions fall away beneath his dark gaze. She stood proud and tall, her dark hair tumbling down her bare back and her eyes alight with more than enough passion and desire to match his.

Boldly, she stepped forward and stroked her hands down his chest, and she realized she wanted him as naked as she was, wanted to see him, to touch him....to taste him. Suddenly impatient, she tugged at his jacket, pulling it down and throwing it aside to join her own haphazard clothes. 

Her fingers trembled with a shocking mixture of arousal and excitement as she began unbuttoning his dress shirt. And he was right there with her, as impatient as her to get skin to skin.

Quickly, he unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants and boxers off in one swift motion and brushed Amara's hand away as she struggled with the buttons of his shirt. He had it undone in a flash and stood before as naked as the day he was born.

Amara looked at him in wonder; he looked like a Greek god. His muscles rippled and were held taut by the fine tension that she could sense in him. His body looked hard and unyielding and if possible her body heated even more. 

Her gaze traveled down and her eyes widened as she saw his swollen, pulsing member. God, he was so... well, big. Twin bolts of excitement and fear shot through her.

'Jer...' her eyes must have betrayed her thoughts because Jerome immediately moved forward to grasp her arms.

'It'll be okay Amara, I promise' he whispered before pulling her into his arms. The contact was electrifying, and it drove them both insane. 

He tangled his fingers in her hair and held her head still, then lowered his mouth to hers. 

Wet heat, was the thought that ran through his mind.

He groaned into her mouth and thrust his tongue in, plundering her sweet, delectable mouth. The kiss grew wilder and deeper as Amara responded with equal fervor and passion. 

Jerome backed her up until their bodies leaned against the nearest rock formation. Holding her immobile and helpless against the large rock, he pressed against her and allowed his hands to rush over her in a heated frenzy, learning all the curves and dips of her body. Already finding it hard to breathe, she stopped breathing altogether as his questing fingers found the centre of her body.

Gently, he stroked her, taking her soft cries into his mouth. 'God, you're so hot, so wet.' Her fingers dug into his arms as he slowly pushed one finger into her, then another. She tightened involuntarily around him and shuddered, almost mindless with pleasure. 

Then she felt him push a third finger into her, and she couldn't move, couldn't protest. 'Jerome, please....' The words sounded weak even to her own ears. She felt so full, so tight but she didn't even want to say no because she needed this, she needed him. 

'Oh god, you're so tight', he pulled his fingers out, 'I've got to get inside you' he groaned, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

As mindless as him, she arched towards him, silently begging him to come into her. Calling on his failing reserves, Jerome guided himself slowly into her, not wanting to hurt her.

'Please, Jer don't wait...I can't...' she trailed off and arched her body, gliding around him, hot and slick.

'Damn it', his control snapped and he thrust deep into her, breaking the barrier she had never dared to break before. Immediately, he froze. 'Amara...damn, why didn't you tell me?' he gasped trying to rein his desire to loose himself in her heat. Amara, oblivious to his inner turmoil gasped at the feeling of fullness that assailed her. 

She couldn't speak for a moment; the pleasure jarring through her nerve endings was too intense. Jerome's body trembled from the effort of holding back, she was so hot and wet and tight.

'Don't hold back, jer, please, I need you...hard, and fast.' His hands shot out to grasp her hips and pin them against the large rock as he slammed into her, giving it to her as hard and fast as she wanted it.

They both twisted and turned, consumed with unendurable pleasure, caught in the elemental dance of making love. Physical needs and emotions entwined until one couldn't be told from the other. Amara sobbed, begging him, for what? She didn't even know, and then she finally went over the ragged edge.

Pleasure exploded into her, white, blinding heat went through her in never-ending waves. She bit her lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, struggling to keep herself from screaming.

Jerome solved the problem by crushing his mouth to hers, taking her helpless cries into his mouth and groaning into hers as he came, hard. Pushing himself into her contractions, he felt his eyes roll to the back of his head as he exploded. It seemed like forever before the shuddering stopped and he brought them both down to the ground. They lay, spent, and replete as they struggled to get their breathing under control.

And even as their bodies calmed, neither of them spoke. There was too much to say and yet, nothing at all. Jerome stroked her hair, absently running his hands down her smooth back. Finally unable to stand the silence any longer, amara lifted her head to look at him. 'Jer?' she whispered his name uncertainly, her voice trembling slightly as she met his eyes.

'Don't Amara, don't say this didn't mean anything. Because it did, I was looking into your eyes when you went over,' he paused deciding to put all the cards on the table, no more lies, no more evasiveness. 'Amara, I love you. I've always loved you, ever since the first time I saw you...looking so lost and innocent by the school gate.' He smiled, a little sadly, 'I thought you were beautiful then, but now, now I realize you were beyond anything I had ever imagined.'

Amara's breath caught in her throat and her eyes turned luminous as a single tear tracked down her cheek.' Jerome, I don't know what...how to say...'

He placed a finger on her lips, 'hush Amara, I know how you feel about me. Your eyes are like glass windows, they reflect everything you're feeling...and I was watching you in my arms. Tell me, Amara.'

'You want the words...'

'Hell yeah, I want the words.'

Amara smiled sweetly...' I love you Jerome, I go crazy when I'm around you and the truth is I'll kill you if you even look at another woman.'

Jerome laughed huskily, 'there's no chance of that, the only woman I see is you...the only woman I feel is you.' He moved against her, and amara gasped as he hardened and grew inside her, stretching her, filling her.

Slowly, she moved on top of him, and Jerome closed his eyes at the sweet feel of her making love to him.' I love you Amara,' he rasped against her throat.

'I love you too Jerome' she whispered.

They clasped their hands as they made love. Then together, they soared over the edge, locked in each other's arms and locked in love. 



Taking Chances



Mary had just finished braiding her long dark hair back and turned to check her reflection in the mirror. Not bad. Her full breasts filled the navy blue bikini cups perfectly and the dark fabric created a V between her newly svelte hips. The navy blue really brought out her dark blue eyes as well. She slipped the navy blue and white polka dot sundress on over the bikini and tied the halter-top around her neck. It too showed off her cleavage to its best advantage and the hem ended just above her knees. 

She sighed happily. This was the beginning of a new life for her. She had shed the extra weight and had laser surgery on her eyes before moving to New Zealand. She had also taken a vow... no more regrets. She would take chances. She would say yes to life. She might just say yes to Chris, even though she had only met him the night before.





Taking Chances



Chris looked down at Mary. "Too much for you?"

She nodded.

He took her hand and they dashed across the lawn to the house and up onto the porch. Lightning lit up the sky just as they reached the steps and a clap of thunder shook the air around them. Startled, they both laughed. 

Chris tugged Mary over to a swing and sat, pulling her onto his lap. She put her arm around his shoulders as their lips met, caressing and parting to deepen leisurely. Chris's hand squeezed and stroked her hip. 

Mary could feel his cock stiffening against her hip. She reached down and stroked her fingers over it gently as she sucked at his lower lip.

"Mmmm." Chris pulled back. "I have an idea." He urged Mary to turn so that she was straddling his thighs, facing away from him. "Lay your head back on my shoulder." His hands came up to cup her breasts and tease the nipples, gently pinching and pulling them. "How does that feel?" he whispered in her ear. 

"Mmm, so good," she murmured, her eyes shut. The breeze was reaching further between her legs than it had been able to before, as if phantom fingers were stroking her.

"You like that? Knowing that you're wide open to anyone who might be looking? They can see me touching your lovely breasts, your hard nipples."

Logically, Mary knew no one would be out in the heavy rain, thunder and lightning, but the idea of being exposed for everyone to see sent a little shiver through her body. 

"Someone might be coming over right now, driving up the driveway. You never know. They'd see our respectable new librarian naked on my porch, being touched, aroused." As he continued to whisper in her ear, Chris let one hand trace lightly back and forth across Mary's wet abdomen, making her shiver, as he stroked down to her pussy, her legs thrown wide for his easy access. He let his fingertips drift over her inner thighs, teasing up and down, around and around. Near, but not touching, her pussy. 

Finally, he dipped a finger in and felt her body grasp it so he inserted a second and a third. He felt her hips pump as he pushed in and drew out, back and forth. He pressed his lips to her neck. "Touch your nipples for me, darling." He slid the other hand down to stroke her clit with just one finger as he fucked her with his other hand. 

Mary reached up and pinched her nipples harder. The intrusion of his fingers in her pussy made her feel wanton. She was desperate for it. The rain roared in her ears as his fingers teased her mercilessly, setting a slow pace, stretching her wide, opening her further. She squeezed against it with her muscles, feeling the drag of his fingers pulling out and gasped as his other fingers rubbed her clit. She flicked her nipples with her nails and felt her body shudder as the thunder rumbled through the air. She felt it move through her body as her orgasm shook her.

She went limp and Chris let his fingers slide from her pussy, drawing her back in, to kiss and stroke her spent body. They rested that way for several minutes, listening to the rain lessen as the thunder and the lightening move back off into the distance. 

Revived, Mary noticed that Chris was still somewhat hard and decided she needed to give as good as she had gotten. She pushed up from lying against him and stood. He looked up inquiringly. Mary smiled and sank to her knees between his legs. 

Her fingers teased across his thighs. She leaned forward and rubbed her cheek against his erection, first one way and then the other, like a cat. She felt it begin to stiffen again. She pulled back and smiled up at him then leaned in to run the tip of her tongue along the length of him teasingly. Looking into his eyes, she sucked the head of his shaft into her mouth and swirled her tongue around it. Her hands slid from his thighs to the base of his shaft where she touched and caressed him. 

Mary watched his face as she touched him, wanting to make sure what she did pleased him as he had pleasured her. His eyes were half shut and he was smiling as he watched her suck him so she was surprised when he touched her cheek and spoke. 

"As much as I'm enjoying this, there's something else I'd like to share with you right now, if you're willing to take a chance?"

Puzzled, Mary pulled back, letting his cock ease from her mouth. Was she doing it wrong? What man turned down a blow job? 

Chris took her hands and helped her stand as he did. He leaned down and kissed her lingeringly on the lips then turned her and moved her towards the porch railing. "Lean forward and put your hands on the railing, now spread your legs and don't move." He cupped her buttocks and caressed her momentarily before leaving her alone to go inside. 

Mary stayed where she was put, wondering what he had in mind. The rain was coming down steadily, hazing the landscape before her. Her breasts swung forward a little and she felt the air move under them. It was a delicious sensation and she shivered. She was enjoying this taking chances thing.

Chris returned and she started to turn around but he stopped her. "Uh, uh, no peeking." He delivered a gentle slap to her bottom. She was startled but giggled. Chris stood behind her and started rubbing her butt cheeks. "You have such a lovely ass, darling, beautiful full white cheeks. I'd love to find you one day, bent over, weeding in my garden, so I could sneak up behind you and take you from behind. Right now, I hope you'll enjoy this."

Mary felt Chris slip a slick finger between her cheeks and rub around her anus then begin to push it in. So that was what he had in mind. Remembering the sensation from earlier, she didn't resist. This was something she wanted to experience. She felt him slip his finger in, pushing past the resistance, until it was buried in her ass. She moaned.

"How does that feel?" He chuckled.

"Different. Tight, full, but good." She pressed back against his finger eagerly. 

Chris stroked her left cheek with his hand while he began to stroke in with his finger, twisting it from side to side, pushing in and out, then finally circling, pushing out at every angle, opening her up. 

Mary closed her eyes and just tried to take in the sensations. It didn't hurt. It was a little uncomfortable, but not unpleasant, just new. 

He worked her for quite a while that way, just opening her up. "That's right honey, you're doing so good." He chuckled at Mary's little cry of disappointment as he slid his finger out of her. "Don't worry. There's more fun to come."

A moment later Mary felt a rounded object, probing at her opened anus. "What is that?" she asked.

"A nice slick, oiled dildo, a little bigger than my finger but not as big as my cock." 

Mary was surprised but forgot that as she felt it slip in a little. It filled her tighter and tighter. "Oh God." She bit her lip. It was so tight. She felt like she should be pushing out but she wanted to feel it in her ass. It was so naughty. So different from anything she'd ever done. She wanted it, wanted to feel him fucking her ass. She pushed back against the dildo and felt it slide further in. 

"Oh yes, that's a good girl, sweet girl, take it all in." He let her just feel the intrusion of it for a few minutes before he started turning it, to the right and then the left, pulling it out a fraction of an inch and pushing it back in. He worked her with the dildo, opening her. "I can't wait to fuck your sweet ass. You're almost ready, baby."

Mary shook as she braced herself against the railing. "Yes, please, I want to feel you fuck my ass. I want to know what that feels like." 

The dildo got easier and easier to take as she pushed back against it. She laughed with exultation. She hadn't expected this when she was thinking about the new things she would experience here, but it was even better than anything she had thought of. Sex outside with a gorgeous man while he did things to her body she'd barely imagined. Life was good. 

Chris pulled the dildo out, quickly lined himself up and started to push his cock into Mary's ass. He groaned. "God, you feel so good, so tight." 

In answer, Mary pushed back against his cock, grinding back against him. His hands gripped her hips as he pushed steadily in. Mary reached down with one hand and pushed her fingers into her pussy, thrusting in alternating rhythm with her back thrusts.  

Chris laughed. "That's my naughty librarian." He thrust vigorously into her ass, giving her as much as she could take. 

Mary felt the muscles in her body tightening, straining. This orgasm was going to be big, bigger than anything she had ever experienced before. It swelled up in her body and shook her to her core. She keened as she came again, with Chris pounding into her ass. "Yes!" she cried out. 

Chris groaned and thrust one more time. His orgasm pulsed into Mary, hot fluid filling her ass. He leaned over her body, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other braced against the railing as their muscles twitched and they struggled to breathe normally. 

After a few minutes, Chris stepped back, letting his cock slip from her and wearily pulled her with him back to the swing. He seated them both, holding her in his lap again. 

"I am so glad you decided to take a chance on moving to New Zealand," he said, before they drifted off, exhausted and lulled by the rocking and the steady shushing of the rain.



Taking Chances



*author's note*

Please be aware, that I am writing this-beyond the whole, that a writer who literally lives to write, HAS to write-for someone I have had a special, strong friendship with for close to a year. We never really got beyond some heavy sexual flirting, innuendo because...we just didn't. I'll prolly post the next, 'tween his knees and knocking him flat on his back chapter very soon. I sooo wanna get to licking those dents, even if it's just in my mind!

I really didn't know what to do with myself. Gavin was working on the house and I didn't want to distract him or get in the way. He'd picked me up from the bus station at like two in the morning and I'd been so tired that I was tripping over my feet and staggering like a drunk. I'd only ridden on a Greyhound once in my life before. And that just a three hour trip, when I was sixteen and off to Wisconsin to be a camp counselor for the summer.

Daddy had marched me down the aisle and plumped me into a seat next to a fierce but immediately cooing at me woman in her sixties whom I doubt even Hitler would have gone up against. And sent such a fierce look around at all things male with in my vicinity that any cock threatening to stir at the site of a nubile, leggy, under age blond, must have withered aborning.

It was a little different this time.

I had a seat to myself. The bus wasn't badly crowded and I'd made certain of keeping the second half of the seat unoccupied by plopping my carry on bag squarely on the empty seat beside me. Then I'd buried my nose in a book and refused to look up even when the bus headed out of the terminal. But wow, there were some scary people riding that bus and even though it was over a seven hour trip I was afraid to even think about closing my eyes, figuring I'd either get molested or somehow lose my luggage.

I hadn't slept much the night before-too excited and wondering just how certifiably crazy my doing this meant I was. So yeah, I was punch drunk, bleary eyed staggering when I got off the Greyhound. And almost water works grateful that Gavin was waiting right there, safe and solid looking.

He took my bag from me, and after I bounced off the wall for the second or third time, put a casual, guiding arm around my shoulder, something else I was grateful for.

He lead me out to a truck, tucked me into the passenger side, even doing up my seatbelt for me, then tossed my bag into the back and got behind the wheel.

"Take a nap if you'd like."

I think I said something wittily brilliant like "huh wha?" or maybe I just gaped dim witted. (Hope I remembered to shut my mouth before I started drooling.) And that's pretty much all she wrote, so to speak. I don't know how long we drove, and I just vaguely remember him helping me out of the truck and into a house, then tucking me-alone, and still fully clothed in my pretty little sleeveless dress-into bed.

When I woke up I was alone in the house. There was a note on the kitchen table telling me there was food in the fridge and clean towels in the bathroom. And that he'd gone over to the house and would be back later. He'd added that I should feel free to wander over and keep him company if I wanted to.

But like I said, I didn't want to be a pest or get in the way. And I didn't want him thinking I was going to expect him to entertain me when I knew he had work to do. I'm pretty good at being unobtrusive and not getting in the way. So I had breakfast, and then a shower, and decided to go lay out in the sun to help my hair dry. Somehow I'd managed to forget my hair dryer, and hair as long and thick as mine takes hours to air dry. The heat of the sun would speed that up at least a little.

It had been about three hours...and my hair was almost fully dry. Plus my skin was giving me that little hint that it was maybe a bit PAST time to get the hell out of the sun. And to be honest I was a little bored.

And me bored is never, never, EVER a good idea. I always seem to get in trouble when I'm bored. Sometimes it's deliberate, on purpose(BUTTONS...oh shiny let's push and see what happens!) Other times it just happens-I'm not looking for trouble. Trouble just has a bead on my Irish ass.

It was late enough in the day that I figured it wouldn't hurt to go searching for Gavin, he was probably getting close to finishing up for the day, so I got to my feet, staggering a bit, slightly sun daft, and went inside to change out of my swim suit.

When I took the bottoms off, they were more then a little damp. Some of that was just normal-woman juice; it happens. Some of us more then others. And I'm of the type who always seems to be a little wet. The fact that I'm usually wandering around writing erotic stories in my head if my brain isn't engaged in what my body is doing might have a good bit to do with that. I'm a very sexual woman, and I'm usually thinking about things erotic. I remember reading a study about how many sex thoughts a man has in an hour and I'm pretty sure I'd be at the head of that study, if they'd included me in it.

And of course, I'd been thinking about Gavin during those hours of lying in the sun. That was to be expected, and some what of a habit I'd fallen into from almost the start of my "knowing" him, even though I'd also known, almost from that same start, that he was at least emotionally involved with someone.

We "met", close to a year ago, on line, when I started playing a new RPG. I don't know, maybe he was just bored; there probably weren't that many players on line. Maybe he just liked my game nick-Minkx-it's unusual. A lot of people mail me simply because they're curious about the nick. Maybe he was casually impressed with what a fierce little tenacious gamer I was. Regardless of the whys and how comes, he elected to send me some money so I could get a better house in that game and train harder.

And we started to mail chat.

So I don't know why it started, but I'm glad it did. Because he became someone very special to me. A person that I'd look for on line. Who I'd send mail to, so they'd know I was on line, when they came on. He became a friend, and a special one. Some one I shared secrets with, who gave me secrets back. Someone I could tell my "bad things" to. And someone who knew, he could in return, give me his.

He was some kinda wonderful; some one who never bored me, some one I loved to talk to because, damn, that's one fine mind. And let me tell you this...and I'm pretty sure, right now, that I am drooling because that mind is paired to a body I wanted to lay out, lay down and lick, suck and literally devour from the first time I saw it. And the first time I saw him shirtless-I think I'd have paid for that pleasure!

Because he's flat out beautiful.

He does work, that works his body. He doesn't sit behind a desk. And when you look at that body, you don't have to know anything about him to know that. It's obvious.

I tease him about his "dents". He's got that sexy, hard bodied definition, at the sides of his hips, just up above where a low slung towel leaves a man bare. Every time I'd see that, when we'd chat and he had his web cam on, I'd forget my name, anything else I was supposed to be doing, hell I'd even forget to breath! 

All I wanted to do was lunge through that web cam and find a horizontal surface to shove him prone on. Didn't care if it was the floor, a bed, the table he ate on. Only thing my hormone driven, horny mind could think was, gimme, gimme, GIMME THAT! And give it to me now!

I wanted to push him down and taste him. Because it was all yummy nummies, that body. The strong shoulders, the flat belly; all ridges and muscles, and sweet heaven, those dents! They just...dipped...so perfect, I'd have damn near sold my soul to be able to have him, all to myself. They made this beautiful little hollow that I wanted to explore; to lick, long laps, over and over, and seductive angles that I wanted to nibble and bite at until I made him so crazy that he begged me for more!

He always talks about how much he likes to give-that's pretty obvious, if you know him. He's a caretaker type, just like me. Another thing we have in common. But when he talks about it in the sexual way, like when he tells me how he wants to eat me out for hours, and make me cum over and over, until I'm begging him to stop, babbling that I can't take any more-and then do me more...

Or when he talks about doing it with me 69, both of us taking and giving pleasure, I think, hell yeah, can we put that down on a calender somewhere, a firm date, in INK! But at the same time, there's that lil Irish hellion, German stubborn, bossy bitch of a brat katt thinking, fine and dandy lover. I kinda want to hold you to those lusciously lewd ideas, but here's the kicker...when we meet, if we ever meet, I'm gonna get MY fantasy first.

Because I am aching, throbbing, dying hungry to do that to him...shove him down flat and prone and just suck and lick and explore every part of that beautiful body. Want, have, TAKE...gimme gimme!

I don't know how long I stood there like a pole axed cow thinking about those dents and my need to just lay that man out flat and all but rape him, but when I came back to the read world, nude and still absently dangling my bikini bottoms from one lax finger, I wasn't just damp anymore, I was flat out wet; pussy juice having slid down my thighs and long legs, almost to my ankles, and when I jolted, and spun around to check that Gavin wasn't standing in the open door way, wondering what the hell my problem was, the lips of my sex and my clit were so swollen with blood and sexual arousal that the movement almost brought on an orgasm, and I had to grab the back of a handy chair, and stand there for long moments, shivering and shuddering, so poised and on the brink...

I could cum in a minute, I thought, probably in just a few seconds, my hands already sliding down my belly. All I have to do is just pinch my clit, the way I like it, hard, just once. And I almost did it. There was no reason not to. Even if I looked up to see Gavin watching me from the doorway-he'd be turned on and aroused, not thinking I was some nasty slut.

But I didn't...I wanted to go to Gavin. I wanted to see him and be with him. I wanted to save my arousal and my sexual hunger for him. He was the one who made me feel this way. He was the one that just thinking even the mildest sexual thoughts about could make my body hum, and sing and throb. He gave me this exquisite pleasure, even when he wasn't doing anything. And I felt that I owed him this explosion that my body wanted to experience so desperately. It was his. It belonged to him.

I didn't even clean the sexual juices from my thighs, just let them dry naturally as I quickly ran a brush through my long, wheat blond hair and slicked on a little casual makeup. I only used a pineapple flavored balm on my full mouth. I wanted-no I was GONNA be-using those lips all over that long lusted for body and I didn't want the goo of a thick gloss or the taint of lipstick getting in the way.

Oh I wanted to make a mess all over him...believe you me on that one. But it was gonna be a mess of sweat and spit and both our juices; natural things, as honest and basic in it's essence as my hunger for this man was.

I didn't put in earrings, even just casual ones, because I had every intention of at some point being on my knees with his blood engorged, erect cock as deep in my throat as I could get it. And if he wanted to twist his fingers into my hair, or cradle the sides of my face, to direct or guide me in sucking him to an earth shattering spend, no earrings meant he wouldn't have to spare a thought about possibly hurting me.

No necklace either, although I usually wear something. But I ached for him to be able to grab at my waist length hair, or circle my throat, with the same ease.

I did wear bracelets on both wrists; the one on my left of a thin gold and platinum series of delicate links, the left one an antique African beaten copper, open work piece that ended at both ends with tiny elephant heads that glittered with little ruby eyes.

And of course my slave anklet, because I rarely take that off. It's delicate enough to fit under boots or thick winter socks, and I like it. It's simply, sexy as hell when you combine it with my long legs and dancer's habit of walking some what on my toes. It suits me. It looks so fragile you'd think a hard breath would shatter it, but I've snagged it on many things in the years I have owned it, and it doesn't come apart. Just like me.

That left what to wear. He already knew I rarely wear bras...my standard answer to when or if I do, is usually, weddings or funerals. I'm a tomboy still at heart, and I mostly have a tomboy's taut body. I definitely have breasts, they just don't bounce or flop around.

I decided to wear a pink mini sheath dress. I was wearing that dress in the first picture he ever saw of me, what I call my smirk picture. Pretty in pink, with a smart ass, cocky little smirk. I still love that dress; it's fresh and uncomplicated and just a sexy little thing that suits a long legged katt.

And I wore it with nothing underneath. Just bare skin that I'd lightly coated in cherry almond body lotion.

It wasn't a heavy scent, and I wondered if he'd be able to catch the sent of aroused women beneath. When I was getting ready to go search him out, while I'd brushed my hair and my teeth, and put on the little bit of makeup I'd applied, I'd been getting little scent whiffs. I liked that smell, the same way I liked how a clean man smelled, a man who'd showered that morning, a man who showered regularly. Maybe it's just that I'm a country girl, but I like the smell of a man who's worked hard all day, earning an honest sweat. It's raw, and it's earthy, and it seems to me, that the sent of a dawn's start shower, still comes through.

Well, I was pretty much good to go now. All I needed to do was slip on some simple sandals, to protect my feet from wood slivers and errant, escaped nails. And suddenly I was attacked by a silly, overwhelming sense of shyness!

Hate this, hate this, HATE THIS...it hits me, never when I'm expecting or girded up against it. And when it does, I want to find a quiet, dim closet to hide in, where no one can see me or judge me or find me lacking. And it always makes me wonder, am I ever going to get over feeling like this? When the fuck am I going to be able to look at the woman I see in the mirror and really, truly SEE her. That mind's eye picture...I really wish I could blow up the camera that takes those pictures.

I almost just sat my ass down to wait for Gavin to come find me.

But like I've said, I'm Irish, and I get mad when my tendency to feel insecure tries to take over and shatter/shudder me. And I'm German, which usually makes me too bloody stubborn to meekly give in or up-and thank the gods and genetics and genes or what ever the hell for all of the above. Because otherwise I probably would be living in a closet some where. That or a nut house.

So I darted back into the bedroom, grabbed my sandals, and high tailed my ass out of the house. Sexy, sweet Gavin, here comes trouble!



Taking Chances



May 2007 

My hands rest flat against the wall of the shower as hot water cascades down my body. I sigh in contentment as the hot water washes away the dirt and muscle ache of another day, leaving only the painful and cruel memories that have haunted me for years. 

Flashback

"God Kayla, I can't wait to make you my wife. I want to watch you succeed in your schoolwork, walk down the aisle on our wedding day and everything, but most importantly, I want to watch you grow round with my baby. Do you know how fucking happy that would make me baby?"

His strong hands idly caress the ring on my left hand as he leans in to kiss me under the mistletoe one last time before leaving for his business trip. The next three weeks of business meetings in and out of state were hard as hell on me. We had just gotten engaged three days before and then he left the state.

Flash forward four years

"Look Kayla, I can't do this anymore. I've found someone else and we're happy, actually we've been together for about six months now. I'm so sorry, really I am, but I just don't love you anymore. We've been engaged for more than four years, I just can't wait for you to finish school anymore. 

I want a wife and family now. Look, you put your career before me for almost five years now; I'm fucking sick of it. The girl I'm with now puts me first and that's more than you ever did for me. You don't deserve my love Kayla. You don't deserve me anymore; Mandy treats me better than you ever dreamed of so I'm giving up on us Kayla. We're done. Keep the ring, I bought it for you and you should have it."

----

I remember standing alone in my driveway that day as he sped out and down the street. It was the last time I ever saw him before he got engaged again last year. A year ago today to be exact, and now, somewhere in the city, he was marrying his pregnant fiancée while I stand here in the shower moping over someone I don't even want anymore. How could he do this; marry someone else when I had been the one the wedding plans had included for more than five years? How could he be starting a family with someone other than me? I let the rhythmic sound of the water hitting the tile floor relax me and become the white noise I often long for during bad days like today. I grab my body wash and lather up slowly, enjoying the feel of my soft hands roaming over my sensitive nipples. The light vanilla smell envelopes me as I caress my toned body and the sensations pull me into a sexual haze, reminding me of how long it's been since I was touched by another. A quiet moan slips past my lips as I work the body wash over my nipples a little harder, my head falls back as I bite my lip to stifle my moans.

"Kayla, is that you in there?"

Fuck, I muttered under my breath. Meg, my roommate has the worst timing, I think she has a "Kayla's gonna play" alarm that goes off somewhere that only she knows about, honestly I do. 

"Yeah, it's me. Need something Meg?"

A pause, Shit, she knows what today is doesn't she? Yeah, that's right my dumbass told her while drunk off tequila! Bravo Kayla, bra-fucking-vo. The one fucking day you want to be alone, you had to go and tell your roommate about. Could be worse I guess...

My forehead rests against the shower wall as my fingernails dig into my palms a bit. I took a few calming breaths, trying my damnedest not too sound rash. 

"Just say whatever it is you're thinking so I can finish up with my shower alone please."

Silence assaulted me while I stood like a cowardly bitch under the spray of the shower. I'm being a total bitch to my best friend because I'm fucked emotionally. I don't deserve friends, he was right; I don't deserve any of the things I have in life. The lights flicked on in the bathroom, breaking the dark cloud I had put up around me as the door flew further open.

"Get out. Get the fuck out right now. You are not going to be this girl, I won't let you. You don't even love him anymore! So get the fuck out of the shower and get dressed, we're going out." 

I stared blankly at Meg as my eyes adjusted to the light that was flooding the bathroom. I watched her form through the frosted glass of the shower door, catching the towel she tossed over the door. 

"You have five minutes before I start flushing the toilets and doing the dishes. Get. The. Fuck. Out."

With that she walked out of the room, leaving me shaking my head at the firecracker known as Meg. I dressed and we spent the entire night drinking with our best friend Natalie serving as our designated driver. We spent the night dancing and flirting with the guys that would buy us drinks and try to score our numbers. We called it a night just before 3 AM, Natalie dragging our drunken asses to the car. That's where my memory goes blank and where my nightmare begins. 

****

I don't remember much of that night besides the drinking and dancing. I don't remember how it happened or who was at fault, I just remember the empty feeling that hasn't left me since waking up in the hospital alone. An I.V. in one arm, the other wrapped in a cast immobilizing my entire left arm from the elbow to my fingers. The nurses refused to make eye contact when checking my vitals and the doctors kept saying we were lucky to be alive. We. That's the only reason I knew someone else had made it through whatever had happened. I wouldn't know the full details until two days later when they wheeled in my roommate Meg. Both legs were broken, one arm broken and several cuts and bruises covered her body, her face one solid color purple. God only knows what I looked like in comparison, no one ever told me and I didn't care to ask.

I sat in my bed bewildered by the story Meg was telling me. Turns out, Natalie's car was hit, ironically, by a drunk driver causing us to go off an embankment. Meg's shaky voice held strong until the end, when the world spun around and collapsed for us both.

"Natalie didn't make it. She died when the other driver hit us; they say we're lucky to be alive."

I barely caught her mutter the exact 'I don't feel so lucky' that I was thinking before we fell into an uncomfortable silence. Natalie, sweet innocent little Natalie. She'd never done a foul thing in her life, Meg and I have been best friends with her since our senior year of high school when we saved her from getting the crap beat out of her by some big mean lesbian. God, she didn't drink and never looked down on us for doing the things she'd never be caught doing. She was the quintessential good girl, but actually had a personality. Besides Meg, she's the only best friend I've ever had and now, God, now I can't even go to her funeral and give her a proper goodbye. I could tell Meg was thinking the same thing, how were we going to go on without the beautiful being known as Natalie? She'd been in this world for a mere twenty-four years and now we'll never hear her laugh at our silly jokes or never feel her hug us when we've had a bad day. I looked at Meg and our faces mirrored each others, tear streaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes as we both said, "He took the wrong one." 

We were released a week later, both still bandaged up and heavily medicated. The ride back to our place was filled with silence as our good friend Grant drove us home. We didn't speak of the funeral we missed or the best friend that was suddenly gone from our lives, nor did we discuss how guilty the both of us felt. Grant moved in with the two of us while we were on the mend and took care of the small things we couldn't do without help. 

Six weeks later, my arm was free from the cast but my memory of the night still hadn't fully returned. Meg's recovery was tougher than mine. She had to relearn how to walk, while I only had to do a little physical therapy for my arm. I awoke every night in a cold sweat, sitting straight up in bed, gasping for breath while crying my eyes out. I thought about talking to someone about it, but school was taking up all my time and I wasn't going to take away from it anymore than I had for the accident. I wound up graduating a semester late since I couldn't attend classes during my recovery time. 

I finally received my degree and found a job working for the local police department on the mobile crime lab. I wasn't an officer, but I was doing the work I loved and that's all that mattered to me. My job consisted of a crew of us going to accidents or crime scenes and collecting data and clues. Car accidents were hard on me at first but I got used to that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and did my job, I was slowly becoming one of the best and it wasn't going unnoticed. I had a few admirers on the force and believe me I was flattered, but I wasn't interested in dating or hooking up. I was still hiding my emotions so well that even I didn't know exactly what I was feeling at times.

March 2009: Present Day

I've been working for the Knoxville Police Department for almost a year now, which earns me a few perks like sleeping. It's Friday the 13th and I am thankfully taking a personal day to catch up on sleep. Well, I was until I was ripped from my private cocoon of a bedroom to cover a crash site not too far from our place. 

When I arrived on the scene something didn't seem right to me, I felt sick to my stomach as soon as my feet hit the pavement. I walked over to a group of officers and investigators that had gathered to discuss the main points of the accident. While awaiting my clearance to the scene, I felt someone looking at me and glanced around until I met two blue eyes looking directly into my brown ones. I watched as he sauntered over towards me and made small talk.

"How ya feeling, Everson? You look a little pale, are you alright?" 

Officer Michael Easton. My heart pounded, threatening to break through my chest and abandon me to follow him around like a lost puppy. Jesus God almighty! Blue eyes that melt your insides to goo, brown hair that's cut short but threatening to curl at the ends and a shoulders that beg to be clung to while in compromising positions. Not only is this man gorgeous, but he is gorgeous and he is touching me. I nod in response to his question, unable to make coherent sentences and terrified of making a fool of myself. A strange warmth radiates from my shoulder and I feel his hand squeeze it in an assuring manner before I smile brightly in his direction. We separate to do our respective duties, but I still feel that tingly warmth radiating throughout my body as he walks away. 

I set in to examine the scene and photograph every aspect and view possible for our records. I start out where the skid marks on the road start and make my way inwards towards the scene. That's when I notice a small wooden cross next to the guardrail that has flowers and what looks to be a picture in the center of the cross. I make my way closer to examine the cross out of sheer curiosity. My breathing stops, my shaking hands reach out to touch the picture that accompanies the bold script writing of a name too familiar to me for my liking. A broken sob escapes me and I feel my body falling until my head hits pavement and everything goes dark. 

Later that night

My head feels fuzzy as I slowly come back around. Immediately, I begin to notice my surroundings as different than what they were before I blacked out. Instead of hard pavement beneath my head, I feel something soft and warm wrapped around me, cradling me like a fragile piece of cargo or something. I can faintly make out the sound of voices, but they are still too fuzzy to make out what they are talking about or who they are. I try to open my eyes but I'm just too tired, I can't even get them half way open before my head is throbbing in reaction. 

Whispers are heard from somewhere in the room.

"Look I don't know what's going on, but I can't let anything bad happen to her. Ever. I feel so connected to her and we've only talked a few times about nothing!" 

There's a short pause. 

"Yeah, no man I understand how fucked up it sounds trust me, I know. But I swear to all that is holy that my heart stopped beating when I saw her sprawled out on the fucking pavement. Now I don't know what the hell that means, but I sure as shit don't want a repeat any damn time soon."

Another pause.

"Fuck me, I don't know. Yeah, I'll call you later and fill you in on what's going on but until then, don't call me unless it's damn important. Yeah, we're still on for the game tomorrow. I'll talk to you tomorrow sometime. Bye man."

I'm not sure where the hell I am or who the hell that voice belongs to, but I'm getting out of here right now. I don't like being dependent on someone else, especially someone that I can't even figure out who they are! God, my head is killing me... I must have smacked it pretty hard on the pavement.

My body feels heavy and I try to sit up to no prevail. I let out a frustrated groan then immediately regret it once I hear the footfalls coming closer. I struggled to sit up frantically fearing that possibly some stranger had me in his bed. 

"Hey, calm down it's alright, no one's going to hurt you. I'd never hurt you Kayla, please calm down."

A deep voice made calming shushing noises as he gently stroked the hair out of my face. My panic attack slowly eased itself away and my heart stopped threatening to burst through my ribcage as his hands combed through my long dark curls. I couldn't suppress the soft contented sigh that past my lips as he soothed me. My mind eased slightly and I fought to open my eyes to see who my calming stranger really was.

I peeked out from beneath my long lashes to find two pale blue eyes looking down at me full of concern. A soft smile graced his lips and I gasped at the sight of Officer Easton looking down upon me in such an intimate way.

"You okay brown eyes? You gave us all a scare at the site, does anything hurt?"

Speaking was not an option. It simply wasn't. I mean, I didn't know what words were at this exact moment. No, currently I've recessed back to my infantile years of incomprehensible English and thought better to just nod to answer his question. My heart chose this moment to stop, and then accelerate to high ribcage bursting speeds yet again. 

----

My rendezvous with the pavement and Officer Michael Easton's bed was just over two months ago and since then; we've gone out for coffee a few times. We joke and cut up as if we've known each other for years and I feel myself growing extremely attached to him. He makes my heart race when he stands a little closer than usual, or when he brushes the hair behind my ear sweetly and my god, when he leans into me and I catch a whiff of his cologne I almost wet myself with eagerness to jump his bones. But that's where it stops. We haven't held hands; we haven't kissed or gone on a date that doesn't end with us throwing away paper cups. Beyond this though, I feel as if I'm getting comfortable with him. I haven't dated since the incident known as my ex Rob, nor have I really felt the pull of lust towards any man until recently. 

Up until recently I wasn't turned on by guys anymore. No, the only males that turned me on were the dreamy actors that graced my screen during primetime television and that's the way I liked it. Those guys couldn't hurt me and break my heart like Rob had, so I was completely ok with having a relationship with McSteamy on Thursday nights or Seely Booth on Tuesday nights. My shower time fantasies have been taken care of by the television hotties for long enough, now my shower time jollies were taken care of by none other than Officer Michael "Fuck Hot" Easton. 

I've recently decided that him controlling my fantasies is no longer enough. No, its time to move on and get Officer Easton to actually take control of my body in anyway he desires. Its time to get what I deserve, a man who will love and pleasure me; and hopefully that man is Michael. 



Taking Chances



She was watching herself do it, and part of her still couldn't believe she was. It didn't matter, she was on her way and no one was going to stop her. She was driving hours away for the mere chance of spending a couple of minutes with him. She wasn't even sure if she would get any time at all but she was going to find out. She had been to a few of his shows before and while there was like any other fan. She would enjoy an amazing show and afterward maybe get a minute for a "Hello" and a picture. She hoped for a little different outcome this time. She reserved a room to stay in after the show. 

She found herself smiling on her drive up as she remembered some of their e-mail conversations, and how they took every opportunity they could to flirt. She couldn't help but fantasize about how it would feel to really have him. To feel his strong arms wrapped around her possessively, his flesh up against hers heating her intensely from the inside out with every passing moment. She pulled herself out of her thought, realizing if she did not concentrate on the road ahead of her she may not make it to her much anticipated destination. After a few hours of Southern California traffic, she was there she could already feel the anticipation building at the thought of looking into his eyes again. She checked into your room and immediately began getting ready. She chose an outfit she always felt sexy in and was hoping he would agree.

She took her seat in the front row, right in front of the microphone. As always she enjoyed every minute of the show but in the same token was glad it was over. As she waited in line for her two minutes and a picture she could feel her heart begin to race as she approached the front. Their eyes met, and she immediately felt the warm, slick moisture building between her thighs. She stepped close to him, greeted with her usual "Hey you!" as he wrapped her in a hug. Her mind flashed back to her thoughts during her drive... his voice interrupted, "so, are you driving back tonight?" She shook her head ever so slightly both to answer his question and bring herself back to the present moment. She told him she had a room for the night since it was so late and she traveled alone this time she didn't want to take any chances on the road. He agreed it would be best to stay. After a little more small talk they took the picture, he gave her one more hug, and kissed her cheek catching the corner of her lips, sending a shiver down her spine directly to her already aching womanhood. She stepped back and smiled hoping her eyes weren't glossed over as his touch was 100 times better than any artificial high she could imagine. They said goodnight and she headed back to her room. 

Once there she threw herself onto the bed, closed her eyes and kept asking herself why she didn't just go for it. After pondering the thought for a while she got up knowing she needed something to relax. She went to the freezer and pulled out a bottle of her favorite Patron Silver Tequila she had splurged on earlier. As she was slicing lime wedges to accompany her shots there was a knock at the door. She wondered who in the world could be at this hour. She approached the door with much caution, when she looked through the peep hole she almost didn't believe what she saw. She opened the door slowly... it was him! Before she could say anything, he spoke, "I wanted to make sure you got in okay." She thanked him and asked if he would like to join her for a shot of their preferred tequila. He followed her to the counter, she prepped the shots and handed it to him. Before drinking he asked, "What are we drinking to?" She replied, "Taking chances." They had their shot, she took his glass from him and turned around to place it back on the counter.

His hands glided onto her hips, he placed his head on her shoulder, she could feel his warm breath on her skin, nearly making her knees buckle. He kissed her neck and whispered, "I am taking my chance!" She nodded and laid her head back onto him. He continued his onslaught, kissing, sucking, and biting on her neck ears and shoulders. He turned her to face him finally entrapping her lips with his own. She savored every moment feeling him gently coax her mouth open, she obliged finding his tongue and massaging it with hers. He entangled his fingers in her hair and pulled back firmly but gently, looked in her eyes and saw the fieriest passion he had ever before seen. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. He slowly undressed her, letting his hands rest on every curve of her body. She followed, helping him out of his clothes. 

He laid her back onto the bed constantly kissing her lips and neck. He lowered himself to be able to kiss the valley between her breasts while using both his hands to knead and caress them. He found a nipple with his mouth slowly encircling it with his tongue following with sucking and biting making her moan and arch up into him in pleasure. He gave her other breast same treatment. His hand reached down for her mound, he let his fingers explore her wet and wanting folds. He felt her shudder each time he grazed her nub. He wanted so bad to taste her, he couldn't wait any longer. He kissed her thighs, teasing her until she nearly cried out in need. He methodically licked every inch of her. Sucked her nub into his mouth, making sure to give it special attention. He felt her begin to quiver as she was slithering uncontrollably grasping at the sheets until she reached her peak and screamed his name in ecstasy.

He knew what she was thinking when she stood, pushed him onto the bed and began stroking his member. But, tonight was about her, he moved her hand and let her know "I'm not done with you yet!" He positioned himself above her constantly caressing every part of her. He entered her slowly until he was completely inside of her. They rocked and swayed together and quickly found a rhythm. She rocked her hips meeting him with every thrust. Their pace quickened just as their hearts and breathing. As they were wrapped within each other, together they reached nirvana. She couldn't see or hear anything but him. She was going to stay in this moment as long as possible. When their bodies remained as one and she looked him in the eyes, she knew one thing for sure, he wasn't done with her yet... 



Taking Chances



Catherine Emerson met Thomas Quimby, quite by accident, when he sat down on the park bench across from her in Rittenhouse Park where she often ate her lunch, usually yogurt and fruit, before returning to work as a bookkeeper and office manager at Bronson and McGee's Law office. 

Two days earlier, Catherine and her husband, Martin celebrated their thirty-fourth anniversary at The Avalon Bistro because that's where they had their first date. It was a tradition they both enjoyed and they could reminisce and laugh over a leisurely meal. The Avalon served Mediterranean dishes, good wine, marvelous desserts and was now run by the original owner's son and his wife, who always stopped by to congratulate them, treat them to a glass of wine, just as their parents had over the years. 

Catherine and Martin always sat at the same table in the corner and enjoyed the darkness, the candles, the red and white checkered tablecloth, the paintings of scenes from European towns and the soft classical music that added to the romantic, old world atmosphere that made the evening special for them. Though neither of them had ever been to Europe, the Avalon Bistro made them feel like they were on their honeymoon and not in Atlantic City where they actually went after their wedding. 

Catherine and Martin had a good marriage and though it had its hills and valleys, mostly it was a plateau. Many evenings she would look at him while he read the newspaper or did his crossword puzzles while she sat across from him reading one of her romance novels wishing he would say or do something like the men in the books she read. Sometimes, he would be stubborn about not repainting the bathroom when she was sick of the dull green or insist they not replace the faded carpet in the bedroom--their squabbling growing intense--but he eventually gave in, resigning himself to her decision. Though he said okay, she could feel his resentment and grouchy remarks for weeks afterward. They had other disagreements and tensions and after a flare up, Martin would sulk for a few days then things would return to their normal state which was tranquil, respectful and affectionate though far from passionate. 

He was thoughtful and tender when he kissed her goodbye in the morning or a kiss on the top of her head when he came home for dinner. He was a good father to their daughter, Melissa, teaching her to ride a bicycle, reading to her at bedtime, spoiling her with little gifts. He was dependable and conscientious about mowing the small lawn in front of their house and the back yard and taking the trash to the curb on Tuesdays, buying flowers for Valentines day, but it was Catherine who bought flowers on other days for the dining room table or would, for no reason, light candles at dinner or initiate going for a picnic or a movie or to the zoo and Martin would say fine, anything you want to do is fine with me and she wished he would suggest an idea but accepted this is just the way it is. She loved romantic movies and often cried and would dream of Robert Redford after seeing, "The Way We Were" secretly wishing Martin was more like him or Cary Grant in "An Affair to Remember" then realize how foolish she was and accepted the good man he was, but more and more when he would be reading the newspaper after dinner or doing the crossword puzzle, she'd notice his belly, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, the way he would tug at his ear or scratch his thin white hair while he was thinking or watching television and feel a longing come over her for something she couldn't name but knew was missing in her life. 

Once in awhile he would look up at her and smile and ask how she was enjoying the book or say, "I'm going to have some tea would you like a cup" or did she know a five letter word for a river in China or what was new with Melissa, their daughter who was still single but living with a man she met in graduate school. She liked how he would bend over and kiss her head when she was sewing or sorting through the bills at the dining room table and he often washed the dishes after dinner and she liked how he hummed while he put things away and wiped the table--though she could never recognize what song he was humming. 

She would look at him and wonder what would have happened if she had married Robert Garfield who she dated before Martin, how her life would be different married to the college professor he became or if she had pursued her acting career--her dream when she was performing in amateur theater groups all through high school and while she and Martin were dating, but those thoughts would drift away after a few minutes as she looked at her husband, her book resting on her lap realizing what a good man he was, even if he wasn't like the men she read about in the novels. She remembered the days when they made love every chance they could and how he used to come up behind her in the kitchen and wrap his arms around her, grinding into her ass, but gradually, after Melissa was born and he was making his way up the ladder at Gregory and Associates, a small accounting firm, travelling a lot, spending more and more time at the office, their lovemaking dwindled both in frequency and intensity. Still, they made love, usually at her initiation, stroking his thigh then slowly moving her hand between his legs and he would respond by rolling on his side and into each others arms, making tender sweet love, though no longer passionate frantic pulling their clothes off, screaming at each other, no longer surprising each other with something new or daring but always satisfying, both knowing what the other liked, both having orgasms, his following hers within minutes and then they would spoon, laying quietly before falling asleep, glad that they could still feel desire for each other. It was a good marriage of caring companionship, thoughtful gifts for birthdays and Christmas, their annual anniversary dinner at the Avalon Bistro, a nice home in which to entertain their neighbors and friends. It was clear they loved each other and felt good about growing older together. 

Still, at fifty-nine, Catherine sometimes missed the intensity she felt when she was twenty-two, the excitement of falling in love, the newness of discovering each other. Though on the outside, she looked her age--the soft swell of her belly, her sagging breasts, broader hips, thicker thighs, her hair short and grey, no longer blond falling over her shoulders, her skin no longer smooth, no the longer the pretty young slender woman she'd see in the old photographs around the house, but inside she still felt youthful--the thought of turning sixty in a few months was hard to comprehend. Though she valued the peace and contentment of having everything she needed--a wonderful home, a handsome, loving husband, an interesting job, no financial worries, but more and more she felt the sky was grey when she wanted to see a rainbow. 

So when Thomas Quimby sat down on the bench across from her in the park two days after celebrating her thirty-fourth anniversary and opened the black covered notebook and started writing, she was curious and felt a sudden spark igniting that surprised her. She glanced at him while eating her yogurt. He seemed so intense, writing quickly, concentrating, occasionally looking at pigeons strutting and pecking by his feet or looking up at the sky searching for a word, then immediately go back to writing. She noticed how he'd tug at his short grey beard, narrowing his eyes in concentration. She could tell he was crossing out words by the intense scribbling on the page, shaking his head as if saying a definite "no" then continued writing. What she especially found fascinating was how oblivious he seemed to people walking past him, the children running or wobbling on their bicycles, or mothers pushing carriages, or teen agers walking through the park, carrying i-pods with ear plugs, or talking on their cell phones, or texting--nothing brought his eyes from the page where he was writing and she wished he would look up and notice her and wondered why. 

For some reason she couldn't take her eyes off him and even after she finished her yogurt and knew she should return to her work, she lingered, noticing his deep concentration, his passionate intensity. She wondered what he was writing and felt her curiosity growing. Usually she didn't pay much attention to people passing where she sat but the man across from her fascinated her and she felt the urge to say something to him, ask him what he was writing then dismissed that thought, feeling it would be wrong to interrupt him. She noticed his wire rimmed glasses sliding down his nose and his quick pushing them back in place, his white hair, though not wild, was long and hung over his ears and curled up slightly at his shoulders, his beard was trimmed but still he had a slightly disheveled look about him as if not much mattered but his writing. At the same time, he seemed distinguished, scholarly, or artistic, definitely not ordinary. It was the first time she had felt that attracted to a man--especially a stranger. 

When she got up to return to work, throwing her empty yogurt container and plastic spoon in the trash can next to her bench, he looked up at her and their eyes met briefly, a slight smile on his lips. He looked down at his writing then back up her and smiled again, placing the pen on the page, using it as a marker and closed his notebook. When he looked up at her and she could see his blue eyes, surprised by his smile, a sudden thrill rippled through her, making her feel she was blushing. She suddenly felt awkward standing there, her hand on the strap of her handbag, a quickening of her heart beat and her fascination, "What are you writing?" she asked then quickly added, "sorry, that's none of my business."

"Just some thoughts," he said, chuckling, his face softening in contrast to the harder, grim look when he was writing. 

"You seemed so intense. I was watching you."

"Oh, well, I get carried away with my writing." He glanced down at his notebook, patting the cover then back up at Catherine. 

"Well, I better get back to work. I don't want to interrupt you."

"No problem. I was almost finished," he said, looking at her, "Where do you work?"

Catherine turned and pointed to the office building across from the park, "Over there on the fifteenth floor in an office."

He looked where she was pointing and stood up, "Mind if I walk you there. I have to stretch." He stood up. 

"If you'd like, that's fine," she responded noticing he was several inches taller than she originally thought, also much thinner. Again, their eyes met as she looked up at him, surprised at his offer, feeling a slight thrill rise in her that she hadn't felt in a long time. She noticed his worn brown corduroy pants, faded and baggy at the knees, his wrinkled tweed sports jacket and open collared flannel shirt that clashed with the jacket. 

"Let's go," he said, placing his notebook in his jacket pocket. She noticed a paperback book in the other pocket and the tip of a pipe sticking out of the upper pocket. 

Neither of them spoke as they walked towards the entrance of the park. It was autumn and the path was littered with brown and red leaves. He pointed to the leaves covering the grass. "I love this time of year," he said. "It's so colorful and I love how summer fades into autumn." He paused and added, "Like us," then chuckled. He took a deep breath, "And the air is so sweet. I like how warm it is during the day and the chilly nights."

"I do, too," Catherine responded, looking out at the colorful leaves where he was pointing and thinking about his comment, "like us." She also liked how poetically he spoke about autumn, how responsive he seemed to the world around him. 

Suddenly, he left the path and went over to the grass, gathering a pile of leaves in his hands and threw them in the air over his head and laughed. His doing that surprised her but, after a moment's hesitation, joined him and also picked up a pile of leaves and threw them up in the air letting them fall over her. He bent down and gathered another pile and threw them up in the air, over her and she did the same, surprised how playful she felt and how she laughed at the sudden impulsive tossing of leaves over each other, realizing she hadn't done this since she was a child and here she was at fifty-nine doing it with a stranger. 

Brushing the leaves from her short grey hair and shoulders, still laughing she smiled at him, "That was fun. By the way, what's your name?" 

"Tom," he said, brushing a leaf off her shoulder. "What's yours?"

"Catherine," she said, reaching out to shake his hand. "I like to know who I'm throwing leaves at," she said, feeling his strong hand on hers. 

"That's very considerate of you," he said, shaking her hand. "Glad to meet you Catherine," he added. 

"I better hurry," Catherine said. "I'm already late."

"Sorry, for making you late," Tom said. "I just couldn't resist playing with the leaves.

Catherine nodded and continued walking with Tom beside her, feeling exhilarated by the spontaneous tossing of leaves. She remembered Martin raking the maple leaves each fall in the front of their house, burning them in small piles but never picking them up to toss in the air. It felt strange to be walking through the park with a strange man, someone other than her husband. She was quiet but enjoyed feeling his presence next to her. She noticed him looking up at the trees over head then back at her, their eyes meeting briefly. He smiled at her then looked away as they walked to the park entrance without speaking. 

When they left the park and stood at the corner waiting for the light to change neither of them spoke but the silence did not feel awkward, though she was searching for something to say. 

"I haven't seen you around here before," Catherine said looking up at him then at the yellow wait hand on the traffic light. "And I come here every day for lunch and fresh air." 

"I'm not surprised because I just moved here a few days ago and just discovered this park."

When the light changed, she felt his hand on her back as they crossed the street. Others crossed with them and the sounds of horns and sirens and the busyness of downtown at lunchtime made it difficult to have a conversation. They weaved their way to her office building and she turned and said, "Nice meeting you, Tom. Welcome to the neighborhood. Maybe I will see you again in the park." 

Standing in front of the revolving door of the office with people going in and out, he nodded, "Perhaps, you will. I hope we meet again."

"Well, I better get back to work. I'm already ten minutes late," she said, looking at the revolving door then back at Tom.

"Well, we can't be late for work, can we?" he said smiling at her and she could feel he was teasing. 

"Right. I'm never late and they're going to wonder what happened to me. They would never suspect I was late because I was throwing leaves in the air." 

"We should do that more often," he said.

"Maybe we should," she said and smiled, looking into his eyes. "I'd like that," she added and suddenly realized she was actually flirting with him. "Well, I better get going," she said after an awkward silence. 

"What time do you finish work?" Tom asked.

"Four-thirty," she answered surprised at his question but sensed a mutual interest in each other growing. "Why?

"Well, please don't take this the wrong way, but I think we should have a cup of coffee together, or better yet, a glass of wine at that little café up the street."

"You do, do you?" she responded, realizing she was enjoying being playful.

"Yes, I think we should. Why not?"

Catherine laughed, shaking her head, looking at him. "I can think of a lot of reasons why not, but I think I would like that." She remembered Martin was going to be working late that night and she would be having dinner alone. 

"Good," he said, nodding, smiling. "I'll meet you at the café when you get out of the work. You will recognize me. I'll be the white haired guy writing in his notebook." 

"Okay, Tom. I'll be there but don't you get any ideas. I'm a happily married woman."

"And I'm a happily unmarried man and have no desire to complicate my simple quiet life. It's just a cup of coffee or possibly a glass of wine--no expectations."

"Good. No expectations," she said, quickly walking away then turning back and waving good bye as she pushed the revolving door and disappeared into the building. 

While working, she felt energized and especially cheerful when she answered the phone, "Hello, Bronson and McGee--Law Office." It was her job to answer questions, take care of what she could on the phone before deciding if the caller should speak to Mr. Bronson or Mr. McGee. She was their girl-Friday and she loved being efficient, her fingers always on any information her bosses needed. Two other young women worked in the office and she always checked over their work before bringing it to Mr. Bronson or Mr. McGee for their signatures or approval. Both Gloria and Valerie were good workers, smart and they often asked Catherine for her advice on various issues, mostly men they were dating. She envied their slim bodies, the short skirts they could wear--tight but not too tight, on the edge of appropriate, Catherine judged. Gloria liked high heels but Valerie's dressing was a little sportier and her shoes were either flat or had slight heels. Catherine liked that they could work efficiently, chat when there was no one waiting or both lawyers were away from the office, sometimes laughing at a witty observation and the office had a professional but relaxed atmosphere.

"What's up?" Gloria asked when she noticed the smile on Catherine's face and the perkier sound of her voice when she spoke on the phone or asked one of them about the forms they were working on. "You seem different. What's up?" she repeated. 

"Nothing's up," Catherine answered. "It's just such a nice autumn day."

"Right," Gloria responded, sarcastically, sensing that Catherine was feeling something unusual. "Did something happen at lunch? You were late and you're never late."

"No nothing happened at lunch. I was just enjoying the warm weather and how beautiful the leaves are this time of year," she said, remembering what just happened in the park and what they would think if she told then she was throwing piles of leaves over a man's head she just met. She almost said something, her excitement brimming over but hesitated, uncertain, then decided not to, suddenly feeling she wanted to keep it to herself.

Just then Mr. Bronson opened his door and asked Catherine for the Reginald Bosnovich file and she turned away from Gloria. "I'll bring it right in," she said, getting up to go to the filing cabinet. But as she searched the files, Catherine knew that Gloria was right, something was different. She found herself glancing at the clock thinking about the time and meeting Tom after work, surprised how exhilarated she felt.

When she walked into the busy Vinery Café and saw Tom at the rear table writing in his notebook, she took a deep breath, swallowing the air and made her way through the narrow space between tables, determined to enjoy a cup of coffee or a glass of wine and nothing more. Still, she could not deny that this was such an unusual thing for her to do and she tried controlling the fear and excitement that was rising.

Tom glanced up just as she approached the table and smiled, closing his notebook on the pen and greeted her, "Well, here you are. How was your afternoon at work?"

Catherine nodded and sat down across from him. "Work was fine. How was your afternoon?" 

"Fine," he said. "I went back to the park and continued writing then went back to my apartment which is actually just two blocks from here and then came here to meet and get to know you better."




Taking Chances



"Oh you live nearby. You said you just moved in, isn't that right?" 

"Yes, a few days ago," he said, both of them feeling a little awkward. "So what would you like, coffee or a glass of wine?"

"I should probably have coffee, but I think I would like a glass of Chablis--haven't had one in a long time."

"Chablis, it will be. I will have a glass also," he said, looking up to see if the waiter was nearby then turned back to her. "So, you said you are happily married."

"I am," Catherine replied, nodding, "very happy. I have a wonderful husband. We just celebrated our thirty fourth two nights ago."

"Nice. Very nice. I don't meet many happily married people."

"Well, we are," Catherine repeated. "Were you married?" Catherine asked. 

"Yes, I was for twenty nine years to a smart, talented woman who unfortunately died a little over two years ago. Actually, she was in a serious car accident and was killed instantly--thank God she didn't suffer."

"Oh my, that's terrible. That must have been a shock."

"It was, though I have to admit, ours was not a happy marriage."

"Too bad," Catherine nodded.

"Yes," Tom said, shrugging, "it was one of those unhappy marriages but neither of us could make a move to divorce so we existed in the same house though not the same bed. Still, when I got the news she was killed I felt terrible, sorry that she was gone, her life ripped away and out of my life without the chance to resolve our problems--not that they could have been resolved. Then I felt ambivalence. I was suddenly free and yet a part of me missed her. I had a hard time with so many confused mixed feelings. I think underneath our problems, I loved her more than I realized but bitterness made it impossible to feel anything like love while she was alive." He paused, took a deep breath and looked down at his notebook, touching the cover. "Sad, isn't it?"

Catherine nodded and was about to respond when the waiter came over and asked for our order which Tom gave to him quickly, slightly irritated at being interrupted.

When the waiter left, Tom continued. "I have to admit I cried at the funeral and felt sad and lost for days, you know the suddenness of the change, the emptiness in the house, so many mixed feelings, her clothing and remnants of her life everywhere around me, photographs of us when we were younger and madly in love, but within a week or two I was fine, in fact, I felt relieved and happy to realize I was free and life had other possibilities now that I was no longer married." He paused and sat back in his chair, sighed deeply then smiled, "But that was then and this is now." 

"Right," Catherine nodded, looking at the smile on Tom's face. "Still it must have been hard, losing someone after all those years together. I can't imagine how I would feel if something like that happened to Martin--that's his name, my husband," she said, adding, "We've very close. He's my best friend."

"Well, it sounds like you're situation is a lot different than mine--like I said I felt I was starting a new chapter of my life. I sold my house about a year ago, made a little money, but not as much as I should have because of the economy, travelled, had a few short affairs without feeling I was cheating."

"A few affairs," Catherine repeated, hesitating, wondering what it must be like to be free and have other relationships, suddenly remembering how she had been wondering what it would be like to have the kind of excitement she read about in her novels and how she felt when Gloria and Valerie told her about the men they were dating and how freely they talked about their sex lives, even describing how so and so made them scream. 

"Did you cheat when you were married?" she finally asked, surprised at her boldness. 

Tom smiled, nodding, looking into Catherine's eyes, "Yes and I suspect she did too. I mean we went years without fucking each other."

Stunned by Tom's bluntness and the use of that word, one that she never uttered though Gloria and Valerie did, she nodded and felt a twinge of excitement. 

"I suspect you have never cheated, but have you ever thought about it?" Tom asked, looking into Catherine's eyes. 

Fortunately, the two glasses of Chablis were placed in front of each of them which gave Catherine the chance to think about how to answer Tom's question. She glanced up at the waiter, a young man with a thin mustache and small goatee and thanked him then looked back at Tom, his eyes looking into hers, a slight smile on his lips.

"So have you?" he asked seeing her hesitance. 

"I don't know," Catherine answered. 

"Yes, you do," Tom quickly responded, "but you are embarrassed to admit it."

Catherine again was stunned by his bluntness. She looked at her glass of wine, placed her fingers around the stem thinking about his statement but also wanting to propose a toast and was delighted when Tom picked up his glass, raising it to hers and smiled, "To Autumn--season of misty fruitfulness and blossoming friendship." When their glasses clicked, he added, "that's part of a line from Keats." 

"I'll drink to that," she said, clicking his glass then took a sip, noticing that when Tom took a sip, he looked into her eyes over the rim of his glass causing a tingle to rise in her, the same feeling she had in the park when she first looked at him. At the same time, her breathing seemed to stop and she wondered what was happening to her.

"You haven't answered my question," Tom said, putting down his glass. 

"Oh, right, your question about cheating--am I too embarrassed to admit it," Catherine responded then paused, taking another sip of wine, not sure what to say, feeling Tom waiting for her answer. 

"Yes, tell me, I want to know," he said, looking into her eyes, smiling slightly. 

"I would never want to hurt Martin," Catherine answered.

"So you admit you have thought about cheating but you wouldn't want to hurt Martin, is that it?"

"Yes, but only in passing, a fantasy sometimes, but nothing serious, nothing I would ever act on, but sometimes I wonder what it would be like to kiss and be held by another man."

"Well, that's honest. I can't imagine a woman like you would not think about it--it's natural to wonder," Tom said. 

"What do you mean a woman like me?" Catherine asked.

"Well, I can tell there is a streak of wildness in you. I saw it when you tossed those leaves over me in the park--that was very revealing."

"Oh, so you saw wildness in me. Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes, and I have to admit when I first saw you and our eyes met, you made me smile and I immediately felt attracted to you." 

"You did?" 

"And you did too, didn't you?"

Again, Catherine was stunned by Tom's bluntness and honesty and realized it was impossible to be evasive with him. Again, she sensed his intensity and remembered how he was writing in the park. She was not used to his directness, since everyone she knew, including Martin, were never this direct. She then remembered Gloria and Valerie in the office and how refreshing it was to hear how they spoke to each other. She suddenly remembered being shocked when she heard Valerie ask Gloria, "So did he screw you?" but also, how it aroused something in her, the same thing she felt when he said, he and his wife didn't fuck."

Catherine picked up her glass of wine, took a sip and did something that surprised her. She looked at Tom over the rim of her glass and knew she was flirting with him, remembering standing outside the office building surprised she was flirting--something she had not done since her teen years but it excited her. Looking at him and seeing how he looked at her while she sipped her wine emboldened her and she was enjoying the strange sensation rising in her. 

"Yes, I was attracted to you. You seemed so intense writing and I became fascinated."

"One thing that is important to me is complete honesty," Tom said, pausing to take a sip of wine. "It's very important," he added, looking into her eyes. "I want to know what a person is really thinking and feeling. No bullshit." 

"I agree," Catherine said, again stunned by his bluntness. "But it's not always easy. Sometimes you don't want to hurt a person's feeling so you beat around the bush--even lie." Catherine took a sip of wine and continued, "And sometimes you don't know what you think or feel." She took another swallow of wine then another, finishing her wine, surprised that she drank so quickly and looked at her empty glass. 

Tom finished his wine and asked if she would like another glass and Catherine again surprised her self by saying, "Yes, I think I would. I usually don't drink wine in the afternoon but I will make an exception."

Tom put his hand up to call the waiter over and ordered two more glasses of Chablis then said, "No bring us the bottle." When the waiter nodded and left, he turned to Catherine. "Why not? I'm enjoying being with you."

Catherine smiled, "Thank you. This is very nice." She sat back and looked at Tom realizing how strange it was to be drinking wine with another man, someone she thought was attractive and interesting, someone so different than Martin and that thought aroused a pang of guilt and yet it felt romantic, exciting, new and she realized she was feeling sexually aroused but tried ignoring it. She stared at the empty glass thinking to her self, "There's nothing wrong with having a glass of wine with a man. It's just a glass of wine, nothing more than a little diversion while Martin is at work and won't be home until later, much better than being home, reading a novel while having dinner alone.

"What are you thinking," Tom asked, seeing how she had drifted away.

"Oh nothing," she said. 

"I told you I want honesty, you weren't thinking nothing, tell me what you were thinking."

Just then the waiter placed the bottle of wine on the table and smiled, "Enjoy," he said. 

"Thank you," Tom said quickly looking at the waiter then lifted the bottle to fill Catherine's glass and then his, smiling and she liked the crinkly lines around his eyes, the way his eyes twinkled behind his glasses. He picked up his glass and raised it to hers, "To honesty," he said clicking her glass. 

"Yes, honesty," Catherine said. "I'll drink to that." 

Sipping their wine, they again looked at each other over the rims of their glasses and Catherine suddenly felt that rising thrill sweep through her, sensing they were seducing each other then felt foolish, confused, aware that she was heading into dangerous territory then put her glass down and looked at Tom, suddenly feeling shy and not knowing what to say but muttered to herself, "this is crazy."

"So you didn't answer my question before, what were you thinking." He paused, "now don't tell me it was nothing--people don't think nothing."

"Hmmmmm," Catherine thought, not knowing how to answer his question. She looked at him and felt his intense blue eyes looking at her. She took another sip of wine thinking how handsome he was for a man close to seventy--she didn't know his age but guessed and struggled to know what to say. Should she say she was feeling attracted to him and wanted something to happen or that she shouldn't be here and would be leaving soon--she had to get home, but realized that was not honest. The wine was relaxing her and she knew she was feeling desire but did not want to betray Martin or go where her feelings were leading her and complicate her life.

She looked at him, her fingers stroking the stem of her wine glass then bit her lower lip before speaking. "I was thinking how much I am enjoying being with you," she said. "There. I'm being honest."

Then Tom leaned forward and took Catherine's hands, gripping them tightly. She was surprised by his sudden taking of her hands but did not pull them away.

"Come back to my apartment," he said. 

"Are you serious? I can't do that."

"Why?"

"I'm a married woman and we just met. I hardly know you," she said, still letting him hold her hands.

"I know you're a married woman but you wouldn't be the first woman who cheated on her husband and I have a feeling you want something more in your life—more than a comfortable relationship. I can tell."

"You can. What can you tell?"

"That you want intensity, romance, passion. You love your husband, I know that, but you're also bored. Aren't you?" 

"Tom! You shouldn't be talking to me like this. You don't know me."

"Yes I do," he said. "I can tell by how you are letting me hold your hand. You didn't pull away and I can feel you're not being honest with yourself."

She then let go of his hands and looked into his eyes. "This is crazy. I just came here to have a cup of coffee with you and not a bottle of wine or to be invited for a fling."

"What makes you think I want a fling?"

"What else could it be? I'm married--happily married and you're single and probably horny," she said, surprised that she said that. "There I said what I thought."

"I'm not interested in a fling but I follow my intuition and I see an intelligent, attractive, woman who has settled into a comfortable marriage but there's more to you. I saw it in how you laughed in the park when we were playing with the leaves and I said to myself, this is someone I could fall in love with. I've missed that. I had a terrible marriage, an empty marriage and though I had a few flings, they didn't do it for me. I don't want a fling. I want more. "

Catherine looked at Tom, seeing how direct and blunt he was and liked that. "You sure say what you think."

"That's right. I say what I think and feel. I haven't stopped thinking about you all afternoon and couldn't wait for us to meet."

"Really," Catherine responded, surprised that he was feeling so much and that he could fall in love with her. His words were so sincere, so intense and it aroused her and suddenly, his passion excited and bewildered her. She felt herself blush and remembered how excited she felt in the office, how cheerful and energized, how Gloria asked "what's going on," obviously noticing something was different. "You really felt that," she repeated.

"Yes, really," Tom repeated. "And if you are being honest with yourself, you felt the same. You were excited too and eager to meet me after work. Weren't you?"

Tom's words and intensity took Catherine's breath away and she realized he was right that he was literally sweeping her off her feet, arousing feelings, even fantasies that came over her while reading her romance novels, imagining a rendezvous in the forest or being captured by a dashing pirate and ravished. Even at fifty nine, she knew she had the same feelings she had when she was a young woman and saw a good looking man at the mall or in a restaurant with Martin, her eyes drifting, looking at another man, her imagination wondering but quickly returning to her husband across from her, erasing the thought of another man from her mind.

"Yes, I admit I was excited. It was fun in the park and yes, I am attracted to you, though I am embarrassed to admit it."

"I understand," Tom said. "This is hard for me too. I don't know what will happen with us, it could end up being a fling, but there's only one way to find out."

What's that?"

"Taking a chance."

"What do you mean?

"Following you heart, going after something you want, taking a chance. There's no other way to live."

"You may be right Tom, but I can't take a chance. I'd be betraying Martin. I would be creating a problem that could become a disaster." 

Tom picked up the bottle and filled Catherine's glass and then his. He placed the bottle down and looked at her, not responding to her words. Both of them felt the awkward silence. Tom picked up his glass of wine and took a sip looking at Catherine. She looked away from his gaze, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, trying to shove away and squash what she was feeling, knowing she didn't want the sudden drama that had entered her life but feeling the urge to go with him. She looked at Tom, their eyes meeting and she could feel he was reading her mind. She took a big sip of her wine and was feeling the effects, slightly woozy, not drunk but getting there, the words "taking a chance" ricocheting in her mind. 

"I think you should come back to my apartment," he said, taking her hand again. "I want you to."

"I can't," she said. 

"Yes you can," he said. "You will regret it if you don't."

"I might regret it if I do," she said but suddenly felt intrigued by the thought of doing something dangerous, something she only imagined but never thought would be real and now the opportunity was on the table. 

"Come with me," he said, squeezing her hands. "Take a chance. Find out more about who you are."

"I know who I am," she said. "I said find out more. I know you know who you are, but there's more that you don't know. I can see that."

She knew he was right and it thrilled her to feel seen in a way that only she saw and no one else had a clue. She remembered wanting to be an actress, how exciting it felt to be on the stage and dream about being on Broadway or in the movies, but she put that dream aside when she married Martin then had Melissa and kept up with the responsibilities of keeping a home, a husband, a child, and a challenging job and here she was almost sixty, married for thirty four years to a wonderful man but now she was sitting across from a man she just met that afternoon, a stranger, contemplating having an affair--an outrageous thought, something out of one of her romance novels, something she thought could never happen to her in real life, but one she now knew she wanted though it frightened her.

"I can't," she repeated, struggling with her desire and prudence. "I can't go with you."

"But you want to don't you?" Tom said. "I know you do. I will ask you one more time and then that will be it. Come with me. Don't be afraid to live. Take a chance." 

Catherine finished her glass of wine and looked at Tom, his words bombarding her brain, but she suddenly found the courage. "Lead the way," she said, biting her lower lip, looking into his eyes. 

Tom smiled, nodded, took out his wallet and put twenty-five dollars on the table, not waiting for the bill and stood up. He reached for her hand. "Let's go," he said, holding her hand and led her out the front door onto the busy street and the warm air. 

For a moment they stood in front of the café, people rushing by them and he faced her, looking into her eyes, holding both of her hands in his, "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. "I want you to come but only if you want to."

Though fear, doubt and nervousness swept over her, his clear blue eyes, the strength of his hands holding hers, the concern for her feelings when he said "only if you want to," filled her with a swirl of emotions and she said. "Yes, I want to," loving how he nodded and smiled at her answer, adoring the twinkle in his blue eyes behind his glasses and how his white hair moved in the breeze that swept by them then added, "I'm scared but I want to." 

He held her hand as they walked the two blocks to his apartment over a camera store. The green door to his apartment was between the camera store and a dry cleaners. "It's nothing fancy," he said, opening the door for her, "a small studio apartment but its home for now." They went through another door and up a narrow stair way to the second floor then down a hall and he opened the door, "Welcome to my kingdom," he said, bowing, his arm across his stomach as he bent over, letting her enter the small but uncluttered apartment. Catherine looked around at the book case filled with books, a round oak table by the window with a small vase of flowers which surprised her. She thought it unusual but nice that a man would buy flowers for himself. Also on the table was his laptop and next to the table two wooden chairs. She glanced at an old couch with scotch plaid upholstery on one wall and facing the couch was a well worn blue chair with a magazine on the cushion and a lamp on the table. An empty mug sat next to the lamp. She noticed a small kitchen with a counter separating it from the living room and his bed, neatly made on the wall opposite the book case. In the corner, she noticed the small bathroom.




Taking Chances



She then noticed two shelves on the book case that had small wooden animals and walked over to it. "These are beautiful," she said. 

"Thank you, I love carving animals," he said. 

"You made these," she said, glancing back at him then at the carvings. "This dog is so amazing. I've never seen anything like this and the bird. You're really talented," she said, her eyes looking intently at the dozens of animals, some of them much larger than the others, some unpainted but others exquisitely painted. She picked up the carving of a cat painted black with a small white spot sitting looking up as if watching a bird, its tail curled and then she turned and saw Tom watching her. "I can't believe you made these," she said. "These should be in a museum or gallery."

"A few are," he said, "but mostly they are all here and I'm waiting to be discovered but recently my main passion is writing." 

"Yes, I saw you writing in the park. What do you write?" she asked putting the carving of the cat back on the shelf. 

"Ideas, philosophy, poetry, sometimes just observations, sketches," Tom said taking the notebook out of his jacket pocket and thumbed through the pages. "I wrote about you when I went back to the park."

"You did. I don't believe it. You wrote about me," she said. "What did you write?"

"Are you sure you want to hear," he said, opening to the page. 

"Of course. I'm curious. No one has ever written about me before."

He smiled, looked down at the page, putting his finger where he was going to read, cleared his throat. "Catherine doesn't realize how beautiful she is but I sense she is filled with longing and wants to be seen and known but has allowed herself to accept that this is her life and nothing is going to change. I have only known her for ten minutes but I hope I can get to know her better. I'm not sure if that will ever happen but if it does, I want what I haven't had for so many years. I want passion and I don't want to die never having the passion I have always longed for."

Tom looked up from his reading and saw Catherine looking back at him, her mouth wide open as if in shock. "That's it," he said.

"My goodness," Catherine finally said, realizing he was expressing something she had been feeling. "I can't believe you wrote that. You're full of surprises, Tom. That was beautiful. I felt tears while you read that," and she suddenly walked over to him and touched his face, her fingers stroking his cheeks just above his beard then her fingers touched his lips, touching him to see if he was real and not a fantasy. She looked into his eyes and smiled and he looked into her eyes, returning her smile and without thinking she moved her mouth to his and he moved his mouth to hers and they kissed lightly, tenderly and then she put her hand on the back of his head, pulling his lips harder to hers and their kissing grew more passionate, his arms around her shoulders, pulling her deeper into his body, his arms embracing her, their kissing growing more intense until she couldn't stand it any more and pulled her lips away, gasping, both looking into each others eyes, a smile on their lips and she knew she had crossed a threshold and entered a realm that felt warm and thrilling and they kissed again, their tongues swirling, their hunger for each other growing and he took his hand and led her to his bed and held her close and she could feel his erection pressed against her stomach, felt herself growing moist between her legs, knew she wanted nothing more than to make love to him. He stepped back and unbuttoned her blouse, looking into her eyes while she unbuckled his belt, the button to his corduroy pants, lowering the zipper while he slipped her blouse over her shoulders, gently removing her arms from the sleeves, seeing her bra, her nipples pressing the material, the cleavage exciting him while she lowered his pants, he reached around to unfasten her bra, slipping the straps from her shoulders, seeing her soft, sagging breasts, their eyes looking into each others eyes, loving the slow undressing of each other and they kissed again while he pulled her wet silky panties over her soft wide hips and down her thighs, before lowering her to his bed, kissing her, laying between her legs, feeling his hard cock pressing against her wet pussy, slowly grinding while she wrapped her legs around his body, pulling him harder against her, lifting her hips wanting more of him then gasping, whispered, "make love to me" and he did, entering her gently, pushing slowly feeling her pussy adjusting to his hardness then pushing harder, going deeper both of them moving together, kissing, thrusting, moving as one, slowly then faster and faster, panting, whimpering, building until he felt her tensing, trembling, getting closer and he moved faster and harder, her pussy gripping his cock and suddenly she exploded in a huge orgasm, screaming, while he kept thrusting harder and harder and she felt him tensing, thrusting faster and suddenly exploding, shooting his warm cum deep into her, soft guttural grunts coming from his chest and throat with each thrust before ecstatically writhing then collapsing on her, the soft sounds of her breathing under him, her breasts crushed against his chest, his cock still deep in her, loving the warm wetness of her pussy, the strength of her arms and legs holding him in her, both of them overwhelmed by what had happened, laying there wallowing in the afterglow, noticing it was now dark outside and in the room. Still breathing heavily, he turned her on her side away from him and molded his body to hers, spooning in the small dark room, both laying quietly, the aroma of their sex in the air, his lips kissing her neck and shoulder, the back of her head. Catherine lay there, loving the warmth of his body against hers, the soft feel of his cock against her ass, his lips on her shoulder, not wanting to move, the sound of traffic outside in contrast to the quiet of the apartment then glancing at the red numbers on the digital clock on the table next to the bed, remembering in a panic that she had to catch the six-forty-five train since she had already missed the one she usually takes after work. Her car was at the train station and it would take her fifteen minutes to drive home and arrive before Martin came home from his meeting and she wanted to have something for him to eat. 

"Oh my goodness, I have to catch the train," Catherine said, suddenly shattering the moment, the reality of her life dissipating the realm they had entered. "I have to go," she said, turning her face towards Tom's, feeling him release her as she shifted then quickly sat up. "Sorry," she said to him, running her hands through her hair. Tom reached in back of her and turned on the lamp and sighed at the thought of her having to leave but knew how stressed Catherine was now that she had to rush to the train and get home before Martin did. 

Catherine leaped out of the bed, picking her clothes up from the floor, looked at Tom leaning on his elbow looking up at her then quickly dashed into the bathroom to pee and get dressed. Tom got up and put on his pants, not buckling the belt and stood there shirtless and barefooted when she came out of the bathroom, tucking her blouse into her skirt, looking at the white hairs on his chest, then at his eyes looking into hers, seeing his sadness that she had to leave but the understanding of the situation. 

"I'll walk you to the station," he said. 

"No, don't. Thank you. I just want to go," she said, realizing she didn't really want to leave so suddenly but had to. She put on her shoes, holding onto Tom as she bent down, putting on one shoe then the other, picked up her pocketbook, putting it over her shoulder then looked around the apartment as if taking a snap shot to savor then went to the door to open it just as Tom put his hand on the door holding it closed and wrapped his arms around Catherine, kissing her. She returned the kiss then put her hand on his chest, pushing him away. "I have to go," she said, reaching for the knob. When she opened the door, she glanced back at Tom standing there, stopped, reached to touch his cheek and said, "Thank you. Good bye" and left. 

Catherine barely made the six-forty five, but got on, glad it wasn't as crowded as the earlier train and sat down in the place she usually sat, finally able to settle herself from the fear of missing it just as the train bolted forward then picked up speed. Catherine looked at her reflection in the dark window as the train rattled and wobbled, her mind barraged with thoughts of what had just happened to her, emotions swirling, not sure what she was feeling as the realization that she had cheated on Martin hit her and how excited she felt about Tom and where that was heading, if anywhere, what did she want, how would she face Martin. She looked up at the people sitting around her, a heavy set black woman wearing the green scrub uniform from the hospital, an old woman fishing through her pocketbook, a girl texting, an woman close to her age sitting across from her, reading a book and Catherine wondered if she looked as old as that woman, seeing the wrinkles, the pale, flabby skin, the dry grey hair, no lipstick and thought, "I hope I look younger than she does," she thought, realizing she wanted to feel young again, wanted Tom to think she was sexy and beautiful, wondering if she should again try to lose some weight. She looked at the conductor walking down the aisle punching tickets then heard the computerized voice of a woman saying, "Girard Street Station, a wheel chair accessible station, doors are opening." 

Finally, she got off the train at her station and dashed up the steps to the parking lot, found her maroon Subaru and drove the familiar route to her house, glancing at the digital clock on the dashboard, realizing she had twenty minutes before Martin would be home, wondering if he had tried calling and got the answering machine and what he would think if she wasn't home to answer the phone. She couldn't stop thinking about Tom and how he made love to her, how she felt sneaking off to his apartment, did she want it to happen again or should she stop and not shake up her life with an affair. The thought of hurting Martin if he ever found out she cheated swelled in her mind. Where was all this heading? Where did she want it to go? She didn't know. All she knew was how confused and exhilarated she felt. When she pulled into her driveway, parking in front of the closed garage door, she sat there, not moving, looking at her house, the memory of Tom's small apartment flashing in her mind, the carved animals, the way she felt in his arms. She took a deep breath, opened her car door and entered her house, going straight to the kitchen, filling up the white tea kettle. "A nice cup of mint tea is what I need," she thought, glancing up at the clock realizing she would be facing Martin in ten or so minutes, could she act normal now that her life had suddenly changed, wondering if she could live in the two realms of existence--her life with Martin and what might be her life with Tom. She was suddenly a wreck of emotions, trying to stay calm as she waited for Martin, wondering what she could fix him when he got home. She remembered the tuna casserole she made for dinner last night, there was still some left, she could microwave that and felt relieved it would not be much of a hassle to serve that. The tea pot whistled and she poured the water over her mint tea bag, lifting it in and out as it brewed then sighed, looking up at the clock again before taking the cup to the table, savoring the first sip just as the front door opened.

"Hello, dear," he said when he entered the kitchen, putting his brief case down then kissing her on the head, in the same spot he kissed her every night when he came home. 

"Hello, my love," he said. "How are you? How was your day?" he asked, taking off his suit jacket and folding it neatly over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, "Is anything new?" he asked before she could answer any of the previous questions. She often wondered if he really cared, the questions were always so automatic when he came home, but she answered, "I'm fine. Nothing is new. Work was good, nothing special--an ordinary day," she lied, holding down the excitement she felt, trying to keep the realm of her marriage away from the new realm she had entered that day. 

"Would you like me to heat up the tuna casserole from last night?" 

"Yes, that would be nice. I'm hungry," he said, sitting down at the table and picking up the newspaper from the chair where he left it at breakfast. 

Realizing she was also hungry, she got up and took the casserole out of the refrigerator, placed it in the microwave. While it was heating up, she took down two plates from the cabinet, still feeling exhilarated but appearing calm and efficient as she took the casserole from the microwave, prepared two plates with the tuna and noodles and brought them to the table, placing Martin's in front of him with a fork and napkin, bent down to kiss his head, touching his shoulder then sat down across from him with her plate. 

"Thank you, dear," he said smiling at her then picked up the paper and began reading while she sat and looked at him, enjoying for a moment the comfort of their familiarity, but wishing he would talk to her and not read the paper and remembered how passionate Tom was when he was writing and how he challenged her with his questions and his bluntness and she found herself comparing the two men that were suddenly in her life.

As the weeks passed, the contrast between her life with Martin and her life with Tom became increasingly dramatic and Catherine found it challenging to balance the two but managed to keep the two worlds apart. At home with Martin, they had breakfast together before he left, kissing her on the head then driving his Volvo to his office in Norristown while Catherine left fifteen minutes later, drove to the train station to go downtown, a ten minute walk to her office, enjoying walking through the park and past the bench where Tom and she first met but now she would rush to his apartment at lunch time for a quick, passionate rendezvous or meet him at the café or take a walk through the park, though that made her nervous, not wanting to be seen by any of her friends. 

Martin and Catherine spent their evenings together when he didn't have meetings, she reading, he, either watching the news on TV or doing the crossword puzzle. They went to friends for dinner or an occasional movie and he always asked if she wanted tea or would she like him to massage her shoulders. They often took turns doing that, he would massage her then she would massage him. In bed they cuddled and she loved how tender he could be but it was different than the way Tom held her and kissed her, at first gentle but then passionately and she loved his imagination when they made love, unlike the familiar routine that she and Martin had.

She knew that Tom used Viagra, something that Martin would never consider, but it definitely made a difference in how hard Tom got and how long he could last and he did things that enhanced their lovemaking, introducing some role playing, sometimes holding her hands above her head, pinning her hands, gripping her fingers, looking down into her eyes, his mouth inches from her mouth and she felt captured and possessed like the lovers in her romance novels, or sometimes he would come up behind her, pushing her against the wall, his hands grabbing her pussy, grinding his cock into her ass or he would spread her legs, getting his mouth on her pussy, licking and lapping--something Martin never did. Tom was an adventurous, energetic lover, playful, daring, always finding new ways to surprise Catherine and she loved when he teased her, moving his cock up and down her pussy then pulling away just as she was on the verge of exploding and it drove her wild, she even liked when he talked dirty to her, called her names and even though she knew it was playing, it made her shout names back at him and she felt like she was living in one of her fantasies except this was real. Suddenly, she felt youthful like her life was beginning all over again and she adored Tom's youthful, passionate spirit and she realized getting old was more a state of mind than age. 

They found ways to meet and go bicycling through the state park, go swimming in the lake, lay on the beach, laughing, having a picnic. She liked the smell of his corn cob pipe when he's smoke it, sitting in the blue hair after dinner. One weekend when Martin was out of town, Tom rented a cabin in the mountains and they made love on the floor in front of the fire place and he chased her through the woods, both of them naked and the made breathless love on a grassy hill. She loved that though he was seventy and she was fifty nine, they were like teen agers and she was living in a way she always imagined and dreamed about and she knew she was now madly in love with Tom, wanting to spend more and more time with him. 

When she was home with Martin, their evenings were pleasant, comfortable and she knew she loved him, cared about him, but now understood on a visceral level the difference between loving someone and being in love. Martin was a dear man, still, in many ways, her best friend and they shared so much history and even returned to the Avalon Bistro for their thirty fifth anniversary and laughed as they reminisced and clicked glasses with the owners who treated them to a glass of wine, but still when she looked at Martin, she didn't feel the way she felt when she looked at Tom, never felt the thrill when they greeted each other. She loved laying her head on Tom's shoulder after they made love, talking, laughing, cuddling and feeling close. She loved hearing what he was writing and how he read to her, the warmth of his voice and even when they were quiet in the same room, when she looked at him, the tingle she felt when they first met came over her and she felt happy and it got harder and harder for her to go home to Martin. 

Though she was able to maintain the tranquility of her marriage and knew Martin had no idea she was having an affair, something that actually bothered Catherine, wishing he wasn't so blind or indifferent to how she now dressed for work or how she spent more time away or how she avoided him in bed, though they still made love, she knew it wasn't the same but sensed that Martin didn't and she wished he was more tuned into her. She also wanted to spend more and more time with Tom and ever since the time she made love to him that first night in his apartment, she felt she was living a lie, knowing she was betraying her vows to Martin, being an adulterer and hated feeling guilty for wanting to be with Tom every chance she got. More and more she felt trapped and frightened of hurting Martin but the tangled up emotions she was feeling were growing tighter, hurting her, strangling her. She felt tense, her mind filled with confused thoughts and she would stare out the window or up at the ceiling in bed. She knew she could not continue living this lie and that she was inevitably heading towards a collision that would be the hardest thing she would ever have to do--tell Martin she was in love with another man and had been having an affair for well over a year. 

Many times, she discussed her dilemma with Tom and he listened to her, nodding but would not give her advice but would ask, wisely, what did she want to do and she would say she didn't know and he would nod and say, I understand how hard this is for you but it's hurting you, driving you crazy, what are you going to do about it and when she asked, what should I do, still, he would not tell her.

One day when Melissa was over the house visiting her mother, she said, "Mom, something is bothering you. I can tell. What's going on?" 




Taking Chances



Catherine looked at her daughter, wondering if she should tell the truth, unsure how Melissa would react to her now sixty year old mother telling her she was having an affair and in love with another man other than her father, but the lie she was living was festering in her like an infected sore and she had to say something, change something or she would not be able to endure the pain she had been swallowing. She sat down at the kitchen table, gripping her mug of tea and told Melissa she had been having an affair for over a year and how much she loved Tom and what a wonderful, talented, passionate man he was, how when they first met in the park, they threw leaves over each other and how they go bike riding and camping then took a deep breath and stopped talking and saw the smile on her daughter's face and couldn't believe her ears when Melissa said, "Wow, mom, that's great. Go for it!"

Somehow having Melissa's approval helped her know what she should do.

"Aren't you upset at how Dad will feel if I tell him I'm in love with another man and I want to be with him?"

"I know it will devastate Dad," Melissa said. "But he's a grown man. He will just have to deal with it. He's not the first man this has happened to. It's up to him how he handles it."

"I don't know if I can do it," Catherine said. "I love your Dad very much and don't want to hurt him."

"But you're hurting yourself, mom. Listen, you only have one life, you have to take a chance and live it and be happy before it's too late."

"That's what Tom said, "You have to take chances."

Melissa held her mother's hand. "He's right and he sounds like a great guy."

When Melissa left, Catherine knew she had to tell Martin and though she dreaded what he would do or say, she made up her mind that she would tell him that night. She called Tom and told him she told Melissa and how she responded and that she was going to tell Martin and how frightened she was. All Tom said was "I love you" which she understood was his way of encouraging her, that he would be there for her and he knew how difficult it would be to tell Martin she was leaving him. 

It was a Saturday that Melissa came over for lunch and got the news. Martin was out running errands, getting new batteries for his flashlight, picking up clothes at the dry cleaners, getting a haircut. He would be home soon. 

After rinsing the dishes, putting them in the drain board, Catherine stood at the sink staring out the window at her back yard, seeing the leaves on the small patio and on the barbecue grill, now covered with a green tarp but her mind was wondering if she could actually do it, what would she say, how would he react, she wondered, would she be able to stay calm and not cry. She knew he was having heart issues and was taking medication. The doctor didn't think it was too serious, told him to cut down on the ice cream, but it occurred to Catherine that the shock might trigger something and she knew she had to be careful not to upset him too much though she couldn't imagine he would take the news lightly. She found herself having an imaginary conversation with Martin. They're at the kitchen table. She brought him a cup of tea. Should she take his hand, speak softly, gently? Or, just say, Martin, I have something to tell you and just bluntly blurt it out, straight forward and direct--the way Tom was with her--a trait she admired but wasn't sure she could duplicate. 

That night, she made a pasta dish with a red meat sauce, garlic bread, a salad. Martin said it was delicious and how much he appreciates all the good meals she made. Catherine liked how he complimented her when she made a good meal or brought home a special dessert from the bakery though this night it was hard for her to have a conversation while they ate. She stared down at her plate, nibbled at her food, glancing up at Martin twirling the pasta on his fork, closing his eyes when he raised it to his mouth, savoring the taste. When they finished eating she took his plate, put water in the tea pot and asked if he would like some mint tea or the Earl Grey he often drank.

"Either's fine," he said, sitting back in his chair, picking up the magazine he had been reading earlier, thumbing through it then stopping at the article he had been reading and told Catherine, "I've been reading this article about climate change and how they think there's going to be more severe storms," then added. "What do you think?"

Catherine's mind was thinking about what she was about to do and didn't respond. Martin looked up and repeated his question, "Catherine, what do you think?" 

"About what?" Catherine responded turning to Martin. "What do I think about what?"

"Climate change. Do you think it's changing?"

"Oh I don't know, Martin. "I don't know what I think," she said pouring the water over the tea bags, the string and label over the edge of the mugs then brought them to the table, "Here's the Earl Grey," she said placing the mug in front of Martin then sat down and took a deep breath and looked at him reading the article.

"Martin, I have something to tell you," she said, sitting straight in her chair, looking at him. 

He shoved the magazine aside and looked at Catherine. "What is it? I'm all ears," he said.

"Martin, I'm having an affair with a man I have come to love." She looked at Martin, dreading his response but glad she finally said it--blunt and direct. 

He looked at Catherine, his eyes widening, him mouth opened, stunned, as if he had been stabbed with a blunt pole taking the wind out of him. She saw him looking into her eyes and before he could say anything she said, "Oh Martin, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt you but I had to tell you. It's been going on for over a year." She reached for his hand, wanting to hold it but he immediately pulled his hand away.

"Catherine!" he said. 

She reached for his hand again, "Please, hear me, Martin. I love you. You are a wonderful man, a wonderful husband, but I met this man, completely by accident and I didn't want this to happen but it did. I'm in love with him and he's in love with me." 

Martin shook his head from side to side, looking into Catherine's eyes, the stunned look on his face, his mouth open. Finally he spoke, "Are you serious? You've been having an affair for over a year." He paused, closing his eyes, shaking his head then looking at her as if she suddenly had two heads, "Catherine! What's gotten into you? What's wrong with you? "

"Nothing is wrong with me. Nothing. Oh Martin, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to tell you or hurt you. I'm sorry. This is so hard for me. I didn't mean it to happen."

"This is crazy. I don't believe my ears. How could you do this to me?"

"I don't know. It just happened. I didn't mean it to happen. I didn't mean to do anything to hurt you but it happened. It just happened."

"Things don't just happen, Catherine," Martin said, looking at her. "What's gotten into you?"

"Martin, nothing has gotten into me. I fell in love. I'm so happy. This is not about you. You're a wonderful man. I love you. I will always love you, but this is different."

"Different! What's different? We have a good marriage. Thirty five years. A wonderful home. What's different?" He looked at her, anger darkening his eyes. "God damn it, Catherine, what's different?" He stood up, pushing the chair back. 

"Sit down, Martin. Please." 

"I don't want to sit down. I want to know what's different."

Catherine stood up and went to Martin, tried putting her arms around him but he pushed her away, staring at her, his face growing red with rage. She knew he had a temper but it rarely flared up. They hadn't had a disagreement in months. "Please, let's talk. Please understand. I love you and didn't want to hurt you, but I love Tom."

"Tom!" Martin repeated. "So what's so different with this Tom?"

"It's hard to describe, he's just makes me feel happy, young, even sexy. I don't know what to say. We have fun. It's exciting. I feel alive."

"And you don't feel alive with me," Martin said. "Is that it?"

"Martin, I don't want to compare you with him. You are such a wonderful, good man and so is he. I will always love you Martin, but I want to be with Tom."

"Are you out of your mind?" Martin yelled, grabbing the chair and shaking it."Are you losing your marbles?"

"No, I'm not crazy. I've fallen in love. I mean, I love you Martin but I'm not in love anymore. Do you understand? Can you hear what I'm saying?"

Yes, I hear what you are saying and no, I don't understand. I think you must have a screw lose--falling in love at your age. This is nuts."

Catherine looked at Martin, seeing the rage and confusion in his eyes, his hand gripping the back of the chair and realized there was nothing she could say that would make him understand.

"I'm leaving you, Martin. I can't say any more. And I didn't expect you to be happy and say congratulations. I hope you can understand I'm not doing this to hurt you. I'm doing it because I have no choice. I didn't plan to fall in love. I just did and I want to be happy. Don't you want me to be happy?"

"Of course I want you to be happy, but not like this. I can't believe this is happening."

Catherine didn't respond. She took a deep breath and went over to Martin, wanting to take him in her arms and soothe him. Seeing him so upset, so hurt, so confused filled her with anguish, she felt tears coming to her eyes, slowly rolling down her cheek. She put her arms around him, holding him close. She felt him begin to relax then tense then shove her away. "Don't touch me," he yelled and left the room. 

Catherine started to follow him but stopped and let him go. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, feeling she was going to sob but took a deep breath, holding back the urge to cry, not sure what to do next, part of her wanting to go to Martin, part of her wanting to call Tom, part of her wanting fall to the floor, her throat aching from holding back her need to cry, the harsh burning sensation forcing her to shake her head from side to side, then swallow, taking another deep breath in an attempt to gather her strength. "That was so hard," she thought and suddenly started sobbing, shaking, making soft guttural sounds as the tears rolled down her cheeks, the salty taste on her lips. 

After several minutes, she decided to go to her room and pack some things to take with her to Tom's in the morning. When she walked from the kitchen into the living room, she saw Martin facing the wall, staring. She wanted to go over to him, to touch him, comfort him, but didn't, afraid of how he might respond. She could see how tense he was, how dark and she didn't have the strength to face an outburst. He turned and looked at her, glared would be the proper word, then turned away. She hated how he looked at her. She didn't want him to be angry but what could she expect. She had stabbed him in the heart, she knew that, knew that he might never recover from the shock and grief of losing his wife to another man and she hated being the person who did that to him, but it was inevitable, she knew. She could not continue living a lie, sneaking off to be with her lover, pretending everything was alright with her marriage when what she wanted more than anything was to be with Tom. Sometimes, the pretending hurt so much, it took all of her energy to sit with Martin at night after dinner or going shopping as if everything was normal, being with him and thinking about Tom was excruciating. For months she dreaded the thought of telling Martin the truth. The thought of hurting him was more than she could bear, but she was hurting so much she knew she had to do it and talking to Melissa earlier made her even more certain. Though she felt relieved to finally tell him the truth, hurting Martin, devastating him was the worst thing she had ever had to do. 

She knew that in most marriages when there was a break up, the man left the house, got an apartment, leaving everything to the wife, but this was different. She didn't want Martin to have to leave his home. She was the one who wanted to leave the marriage. It didn't seem right for him to have to find another place. This was simpler. She could live with Tom, maybe find a bigger apartment and she hoped, eventually, she and Martin would still be friends, hoping time would heal the fracture, but now, the pain was far too great to know what would happen in the future.

Though they slept in the same bed that night, Martin's back was to hers and there was no response when she said good night. In the morning Martin came into the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee. She asked if he would like some eggs but he said, "I'll make some for myself later," then went into the living room with his coffee while she sat at the kitchen table, her two suitcases by the front door. It was a Sunday morning and there was not as much traffic when she drove to Tom's apartment downtown, a forty-five minute drive. It felt strange to realize she was now living in his small apartment but it was cozy and she liked that Tom always had flowers and was fairly neat and the apartment didn't feel cluttered. They both liked to cook and she enjoyed standing next to him in the tiny kitchen, cutting vegetables, listening to classical music, sipping wine, stopping to hug each other and kiss then take a walk through the park, sometimes sitting on the bench where she first saw him. She liked that she could walk the two blocks to work and Gloria and Valerie both admired Catherine's courage for moving in with Tom and she now shared some of the things they did in bed and how they applauded and laughed, calling her a vixen. "No I'm not," Catherine responded, but part of her liked that they said that. She liked that Tom called her at work and before she could say Bronson and McGee, he said, "I love you" then hang up before she could respond but then she would do the same thing, in the middle of the day, impulsively call and say, "I love you" and hang up. 

She made sure Martin was not at home when she made trips to get more things, not too much because of the small apartment, but each week, she called Martin to see how he was. At first he was monosyllabic and she could feel his hurt and anger then after two months or so, he mentioned he was taking a trip to England, partly on business but also a vacation and she was delighted. "Good for you," she said. "I want to hear all about it when you get back," and she felt there was a possibility they might be able to stay friends but he responded, "I doubt I will want to tell you about it" and she realized he was still angry. "Are you eating well?" she would ask and he said. "You don't have to worry about me, Catherine." He never asked how she was and she'd hang up, sadness welling up in her at the loss of Martin in her life and still hoped it would change in time. She asked Melissa to spend more time with him, check up on him, which she did though Catherine was aware of the ambivalent feelings she had towards her father, even though he did bring her gifts when she was little and had fond memories, as she got older, she found him aloof and critical of the way she dressed and some of her friends and choices she made when what she wanted from him was to feel accepted and not judged.

One night when she and Tom were in bed, cuddling and things were heating up, the phone rang and it was Melissa telling her that Martin had a heart attack and was in critical condition at Jefferson Hospital. She was at the hospital with him. "I'll be right there," Catherine said and hung up then turned to Tom. "I have to go," she said. "Martin's in critical condition."

He reached over and hugged her. "Go. You should go." Catherine appreciated how generous Tom was, not at all jealous; however, just before she left, the phone rang again and it was Melissa telling her "He died, not to come." Catherine heard her daughter's words, heard her crying then burst into hysterical tears, crying, sobbing, gripping the phone screaming, "Oh, no! Oh no! Oh, no!" She was white with shock and gasping. 

"I saw this coming, mom," Melissa said. "He hasn't been taking care of himself. He looked terrible."

"This is all my fault. I did this."

"No you didn't. Mom, it's not your fault. You did what you had to."

When Catherine hung up, she started sobbing again, crying hysterically. Tom held her, rubbing her back, kissing her head, doing all he could to comfort her but didn't say anything, just let her cry and feel safe in his arms.

"I broke his heart. This is my fault," Catherine said, trying to control her crying. "I did this to him," she said. "I broke his heart." 

Tom didn't say anything and just held her, knowing this was not the time to tell her it wasn't her fault, that she had nothing to do with his heart attack. He just wanted to hold and soothe her, but Catherine believed that without her, he had nothing to live for, that she took away his happiness and when she said that to Tom the next day, after a restless attempt at sleeping, he tried to convince her that it wasn't her fault. "Catherine, you are not responsible for how he lived after you left him. You aren't responsible for his happiness. "

At the funeral, dressed in black, standing next to Melissa, holding each others hands as they listened to the minister, looking at the coffin being lowered into the grave, surrounded my their neighbors and friends, Tom stood in back of the small crowd rather than next to Catherine. She was crying, reflecting on their life together, but knew that Tom was right. She was not responsible for his happiness. She turned and saw Tom standing next to a tree in back of the crowd. Their eyes met and she could feel his love for her, his sadness for her, his understanding the grief and guilt she was feeling for the way her husband's life ended and how hard it must be to see a part of her life being buried while the man she now loved was waiting for her. After the ceremony, the hugging from friends and neighbors, all of them shocked and dismayed at the break up of their marriage, still offered their condolences. The people Martin worked with for so many years hugged her, saying what a good man he was, and she nodded and smiled, thanking them. Melissa kissed her mother goodbye and whispered in her ear, "Tom is a lovely man." 

When everyone one left, Catherine stood by the graveside for a few more minutes, looking at the shiny wooden coffin, covered with flowers and dirt. Tom could tell she wanted to be alone but after a few minutes came to her and put his arms around her shoulders. She leaned into his chest, feeling his warmth and comfort. When they walked back to her car, she glanced back at the grave, holding Tom's hand, squeezing it, feeling his strong loving hand. In the car, she was quiet but she loved the way he looked at her from time to time as they drove back to their apartment for lunch and the years ahead of them.



Taking Chances



The story begins.

Kyla decided earlier this evening that she would take a chance. She's been hurt before, like many others. Everybody rolls with punches different ways. For Kyla, this has meant avoiding risks in love. Though she is considered pretty, or even beautiful by some, she considers herself to be just average. Nothing special. No one anybody would really want to be with long term. Unfortunately, Kyla isn't very comfortable with the idea of one nighters. Meaningless sex for the sake of it with people she already knows is one thing, but doing it just for the hell of it is a completely different matter. 

She's caught in a catch-22 that she can't stop looping around. Because she is afraid of being hurt again, she doesn't risk getting in a position that she might. Since she doesn't take the risk, she's never going to find anyone meaningful in her life. Her friends are few albeit extremely dear. People seem to like her well enough. When someone does catch her eye, she becomes extremely timid. Even if they get past her timidity, she has a hard time being comfortable with herself behind closed doors. Many relationships have soured from incompatibility issues. 

Kyla's fears keep her from getting what she wants, craves, and needs as well as giving the same to her lovers. She tends to just let them do as they wish regardless of what's in it for her. Normally, this wouldn't be such a bad thing. She loves to please her partner. Unfortunately, she hasn't found much luck in the equality behind closed doors scenario.

It's time for a change. If Kyla doesn't do something she is going to end up alone and lonely for a very long time. On a gamble, she decides to go to one of her few hangouts. If someone seems interested enough to say hi, she will see where it goes. 

This evening, it's a place called Black's just off the corner of 3rd and Fieldcrest. It's a small place. Kyla didn't even know it existed until a co-worker showed it to her once. The clientele is pretty mixed. Black's caters to all people - gay, straight, bi, trans, lesbian, swinger, confused, indifferent - it doesn't matter. Different nights cater to different crowds, but no one is excluded simply for showing up on "their" wrong night. 

Kyla sits alone in the corner of the bar. She does it every time she goes out. She hardly speaks to anyone and definitely not if they don't speak to her first. She's extremely shy, but her beautiful grey-blue eyes show a hint of her inherent, yet inexperienced, devious nature for the poor sucker that finally manages to break through her apparently icy composure. She often comes off as unapproachable, or even stuck up to those that don't know her.

Her short blond hair is styled to frame her face, yet it looks as if she doesn't care about it. Kyla has a nice body. Her 5-flat frame has a complexion that ranges from cream to light toffee, depending of course on the time of year. Her face has a healthy tan to compliment her obviously daily exposure to the elements - regardless of the weather outside. Even with the daily exposure to the elements, you can't tell how old she is, as she is often mistaken for ten years younger. Though the edges have softened a little in her curves, you can still tell that at one point she was an athlete, most likely a soccer player from her strong looking calves.

Tonight is couples night at the bar and you can tell that she's eyeing out the crowd. Her mental wheels are visibly spinning. A couple approaches her and introduces themselves as Mike and Tina. Mike appears to be in his late thirties with a ruggedness to his face that accentuates his handsome features. Tina, a little younger and in her early thirties is Kyla's age. She has a svelte 5'5" frame that shows she's taken care of herself over the years. She's definitely not too skinny, but rather well toned with some definition in all the right places. Definitely a hard core swimmer or tennis player judging by the way her dress clings to her body. 

They offer Kyla a drink and she accepts. Though difficult at first, she loosens up a little after her second shot. The edge gone, conversation begins to flow freely amongst the trio. During the conversation, the subject gets around to sex fairly quickly. Everyone seems to be hitting it off pretty well. Likes and dislikes are exchanged as if they are old friends. After the 5th drink, Tina and Mike ask Kyla back to their place Kyla accepts. 

Of course, it's not really that surprising. Mike has an obvious erection due to Tina's ministrations while she tells Kyla just how talented she is with his dick. She's been fondling him for the last three drinks while rubbing her foot against Kyla's creamy thighs. Kyla can see how Tina's nipples have become erect little buds pressing against the confines of her dress. Kyla herself is very wet, having leaked through her boxers and now making her well fitting jeans moist. Her unrestrained breasts are alert as well.

Tina grabs Kyla's waist as Mike follows them out the door. Tina stops dead in her tracks causing him to run right into Kyla, his erection flush against her ass. Tina looks at her and grins at Kyla's blushing smile. Mike is obviously well hung and his fullness makes Kyla spill yet another drop from her sopping center.

Out at the car, Tina gives Mike the keys to their SUV and ushers both herself and Kyla into the back seat. The seats themselves have previously been folded down flush. A thick comforter has been spread out flat over the entire surface. The dark privacy glass provides a perfect cover as Mike starts the engine and puts it in drive. The front passenger seat has been removed and Tina has Kyla sit on the edge of the platform that has been created. She tells her that she has plans for her that will consume the entire evening and that Kyla must do everything that is asked of her with no questions. Though Kyla as a very devious mind, she has little practical experience. She lets the couple know, and they promise to not do anything that will harm her. They tell her that she always has an out - a codeword - if things get to be too much. Kyla warned them ahead of time that she had been mistreated. It's very important everyone is on the same page. Mike and Tina are a like-minded couple, so it works out well. After agreeing on their code words for safety, Tina has Kyla strip from the waist down.

Ankle restraints have been attached to the corners of the rear seat and Kyla is strapped in, exposing her pussy so wide that the outside of her knees are resting against the seat, creating almost a straight line from one knee, across her pussy, to the other knee. Tina lies her down on her back after putting a pillow under her hips. Her wrists are strapped to lengths of rope that are attached to the tie down hooks in the cargo area.  Tina tells her to just relax - no one will do anything to her she doesn't' want them to. It's a very long drive to the house (over 100 miles) and she has no chance of being released until their arrival. If she behaves. 

With Kyla helplessly strapped in the back she can do nothing but watch everything happening out front. Tina had a reclining wedge installed and Kyla hears the motor as it raises her upper body to a slight angle, tensioning the ropes attached to her wrists to the point that there is no more than an inch of movement possible.

For the first twenty minutes or so, Kyla just sits (if you can call it that) and watches the passing vehicles through the windshield. Tina is sitting next to Mike right where the passenger seat would be if it were still there. Tina starts to tell Mike about all the fun they intend to have with Kyla. She tells him how she's going to fuck her pussy with her new Pyrex dildo until she comes. Mike reminds her that he definitely wants to try out Kyla's ass with his cock. He wants to ram all eight inches into her. Tina decides that Kyla needs to see what Mike is talking about. She undoes his pants, freeing his restrained member. She holds a mirror so that Kyla can see the 2 1/2" diameter shaft. Kyla's pussy beings to get damp again as she realizes that he has more girth that a can of Red Bull. The sight of his cock is making her hungry for it, yet she is unable to do anything about it. Tina asks if Kyla wants to taste it and she nods. 

Tina bends over and gives his cock four nice long draws to release a drop of pre-cum. She licks it off and climbs into the back, hovering over Kyla's mouth with her own. Kyla can smell his scent on her face and strains her head forward to kiss it when Tina pulls just out of reach, telling her that she can't have it now while she smacks her open pussy once with her hand. Kyla flinches from the impact. Tina gets a wide grin on her face while she pushes her hand against Kyla. Tina removes it after a second or two then backs out of reach.

Tina tells her how good it feels when he shoves it into her pussy, filling it completely and stretching her walls to the extreme. She pulls up her dress and exposes her wet, pink pussy pulling the lips far apart momentarily to show off how naturally tight she is. Kyla's juices start to flow freely as Tina dips her fingers down and takes a quick swipe of Kyla's pussy juice to moisten her finger before she begins to masturbate.

She repeatedly asks Kyla if she's ready for Mike's cock as he talks dirty to Tina. The cunt bitch just never can get enough of his stiff rod. Tina's fingers hasten their journey, bringing her closer and closer to climax. She stops right on the edge of her own climax, takes three of her sloppy wet fingers and plunges them into Kyla's pussy once and then twice, before she drowns them one more time in her own. She pulls them out to have Mike lick them clean.

Mike tells Kyla that her cunt tastes good and should be drained. He tells Tina he wants it all dried up when they get home, and they are only a third of the way there. Tina tells Kyla she is not allowed to come, or she'll be cleaning up the puddles herself. Tina pulls out a leather riding crop and runs it along the inside edge of Kyla's calves and thighs. She completely bypasses her pussy and as a result her clit jumps a little bit. She tells Mike about the little slut they managed to bag for the evening. Kyla likes the crop way too much, so as a favor Tina tells her she won't use it anymore until they get home. Kyla's face visibly distorts as she is craving the implements of gentle torture.

Tina lowers her head to Kyla's pussy and puts a clip on each of her lips before she pulls out a thin string and fastens it between the clips and ankle restraints to hold her pussy and clit completely exposed.

She leans her tongue in and presses it lightly against Kyla's clit, simply resting it there while Mike calls Kyla a tease. Tina shoves her pinky finger into her pussy and pulls it out quickly. Kyla's cunt involuntarily tries to snatch it back in, but there's nothing to grab. Tina's now wet pinky starts to tickle Kyla's clit ever so softly, just barely grazing it with each gentle flick. Kyla's pussy reacts by leaking her fluid down in a steady stream.

Every few minutes, Tina jams it back into her pussy and then goes back to flicking her clit. After a few minutes Kyla has the pattern down and has herself under control. Tina notices the lack of reaction and decides to be a little more aggressive. She plants her teeth around Kyla's clit to hold it in place. Her tongue laps at it until the juices are again flowing freely. Kyla clenches her fists as she pulls against her restraints. She begs Tina to stop teasing her and just fuck her. Mike starts laughing hysterically and tells the little bitch to just take what is given to her. He pulls a dildo out of his door pocket and tells Tina to shove it in Kyla's mouth to get her to shut up. Tina tells her not to drop it as she puts it between Kyla's teeth. The dildo is so skinny that Kyla's mouth soon starts to get cramps trying to keep closure. She can do nothing as Tina goes right back to her merciless taunting of Kyla's clit.

With only twenty miles to go Tina stops everything and goes back to masturbating. She positions herself so that Mike can reach and has him finger fuck her to climax with Kyla watching on. After she comes, she thrusts three of her fingers into her pussy. Collecting some of her juices, she fingers Kyla in time to Mike's fucking of her. Every time Tina tells Mike how much wetter Kyla's getting, the harder he plunges his long, wide fingers into Tina. He tells Kyla that her bitch ass cunt better not come. Kyla is having real difficulty being forced to watch him pound Tina in time to her own. It's as if he was doing it himself. She begins to moan with the dildo still in her mouth and Mike asks her if she plans to suck his cock with the same enthusiasm. Kyla shakes her head in the affirmative

Tina has another crushing orgasm and Mike tells her to go find out how well Kyla is giving that fake cock head, because she obviously can't handle the real thing. Tina puts her knee against Kyla's pulsing clit and runs it up and down as she thrusts the dildo in and out of the bitch's mouth. Harder and faster she thrusts. Kyla involuntarily pulls against the restraints. The tension of her bindings increases until they can tighten no more. Kyla can see Mike jacking himself in rhythm to the mouth fucking she is receiving. She wishes it was the real thing, yet is powerless to vocalize it.

Mike tells her to keep sucking harder with each slide of his hand on his cock. Tina continues to ram the dildo in and out of Kyla's mouth in time. Mike tells her he wants it deeper, and Tina complies. Kyla has never had anything so deep in her mouth before. The substitute covers her windpipe with each thrust in. Kyla slowly begins to sort out how to breathe while being rammed in her mouth. The speed increases as Mike nears climax. Tina tells Kyla to suck him dry. She lunges a few more times into Kyla's mouth. She rams it one more time, burying the cock against the back of Kyla's throat. Mike spews his seed in his lap. He tells Kyla that next time she needs to do a better job. He doesn't like having his seed spilled all over the place. He is going to have her practice more.

Tina removes the dildo in Kyla's mouth. She plunges it into her sopping pussy. Kyla screams out with desire as it enters her fast with no practice strokes to lube it up. She wants so badly to come and finds it very difficult to obey the order not to. Her body wants to betray her.

Tina - noticing that Kyla is faltering - drops her face back down to her pussy and begins a full-fledged assault on Kyla's clit. She thrusts the fake cock in and out of her hard and fast. Mike reminds her she is not allowed to come yet. They are almost to the house. He begins to call back the shortening distance to the house every half mile. Every step closer he reminds her.. two miles, bitch! mile and a half bitch! Don't you fucking come. Just one more to go, you slut and then I'll have my ass from you. 

That last verbal assault tops Kyla over the edge. The thought of his huge cock taking her ass destroys the last bit of resolve she had mustered to control her orgasm. The restraints are tested to near break strength as Kyla convulses. Tina, having no sympathy for her, continues to pound and attack her through the convulsions. With Kyla's orgasm, her clit becomes hypersensitive to Tina's teeth and tongue. She could normally have another orgasm quickly, yet Tina's actions are preventing it. With no break and the constant attack, her clit becomes extremely sore, and she starts to feel pain as they pull along the sidewalk. Mike tells her he is disappointed that she is such a pitiful slut she can't even control herself.

They pull into the driveway, and Mike and Tina get out of the truck. Kyla is left behind with the doors unlocked, all the windows down, still restrained, and still impaled on the dildo. "We'll let you in when those puddles are cleaned up!" They start laughing as they walk up to the front door and enter it. 

 

Chapter Two

Mike returns with a towel and lays it next to Kyla. "Here you go slut, let me know when you're done. We'll check in from time to time to see your progress. To help you out though, I am going to move the truck. Maybe a passerby will be helpful and assist you with those restraints. Eventually." He backs the truck out, and pulls it along the street. He opens the panoramic roof, and walks back inside. Tina glimpses briefly out the window before pulling the drapes. Kyla notices that the window has been opened about halfway. Well, at least they can hear her if she needs to yell.

Kyla lies there, nervous. She is embarrassed about the thought of being found like this. Wrists tied down, legs splayed, ankles restrained. The juices from her orgasm were fucked out of her and she is extremely dry. Her clit is sore, the slight breeze a little uncomfortable from time to time. She wonders how long they will leave her out there. Unfortunately for her, it was discussed as being okay earlier. Now, she's not so sure. She knows that if she yells loud enough they will let her go.

The slight breeze gets a little stronger. As it flows through the windows, Kyla's nipples instinctively become erect. Her cunt contracts involuntarily a few times against the dildo that was left in her. A few minutes later, a light drizzle begins to fall. It's not enough to cause damage to the truck. The miniscule little pellets of rain are cold as they pelt against her warm skin. Her nipples try to rise even more. The cool pellets soothe her sore clit. 

Inside, Tina and Mike discuss how long they should leave her out there. It's a moderately traveled neighborhood, and Kyla could be found be someone that would hurt her more than help her. They decide to give it about thirty minutes or so and then check on her. Mike goes to clean up and change since his pants are covered with his own mess. Tina washes up herself. She peeks out the window and sees a light drizzle falling onto Kyla's bare skin. She had cracked the window just in case Kyla yelled out her safeword. The dew that is accumulating on Kyla glistens in the glow of the streetlight. 

Mike returns to the living room to find Tina bent over the back of the couch. He sneaks up on her as she gazes out the window. He tucks two fingers between her folds as he whispers, "You really are liking this, honey." Tina lets out a low moan as she feels the velvety cum-covered fingers slide against her. "Yes, dear, I really do." She presses back against his hand in rhythm to the strokes. "But I would really like to watch her get fucked while you fuck me."

Mike's dick does the thinking for him as it begins to twitch back to life. He leans against her and slides himself against the back of her thigh. He decides that maybe they should make sure she is found quickly and they call their friend Jack. 

Jack is a friend of Mike's from college. They had a brief fling together during a particularly curious mood that Mike was in one semester. Though Mike and Jack both have gone on to living lives as straight men, they have kept their personal bond going from time to time over the years. Tina is aware of it, and doesn't mind. After all, she usually gets to be included. Jack is single right now, and it works out well. 

They fill Jack in on the details. They remind him that Kyla is not allowed in the house until her previous puddles are cleaned up from the sopping wet mess she made earlier. He tells them he'll get cleaned up and then go find her for them. 

The drizzling rain outside is becoming a little heavier, and the larger drops bounce off Kyla's clit. The cool, soothing drops causes her to begin swelling again. The previous soreness is rinsed away drop by drop. Kyla's hips instinctually try to rock against the dildo unsuccessfully. Her purposeful contractions achieve nothing more than releasing the dildo from its hibernating spot. Within a few minutes it pops out and onto the floor of the truck. She is left open and needing fulfillment. Her pussy begins to physically ache out of desire. Her lips are puffy and full. The light drops of rain mixing with her dried cum being to make a new slippery mess. She's got to think about how to get out of here and into the house. She looks at the window and sees Mike pressed up against Tina's naked form. Her breasts hanging down over the back of the couch, her face displaying obvious pleasure. She imagines what it would feel like to be in her shoes right now. The multitude of thoughts racing through her head begin to flush over her. The erotic blush gives color to her pale skin as she lies there.




Taking Chances



The breeze continues to tease Kyla even though the rain stops. Kyla's senses sharpen as she continues to lie splayed in the truck. She hears footsteps approach. Her desire turns into nervousness as she wonders if this person will notice her. If they do, will they be friend or foe? The footsteps get louder. The cadence is the very familiar left-right-left she was accustomed to before leaving the military. They are almost on top of her now. Her pulse quickens even more. Her breathing becomes rushed. She fights to get it back under control. Her pussy swells and then feels like it is opening up. She realizes she's not afraid, she's completely aroused. She sees the couple nod at something. They must have set this up.

Jack sees the truck. The windows are open as Mike promised. His heart begins to beat faster as he nears. His pace quickens with a purpose. He sees Tina and Mike in the window and nods. They nod back. He approaches on the right side and peers in to see Kyla overtly displayed. A grin spreads across his face as her eyes meet his. She looks nervous, but definitely willing. He sees the minute pools of dew spaced along her body from the earlier rain. He looks at her form from head to toe. He notes the restraints are still taught. He sees the creamy drops oozing out of her. Her skin flushed. He asks her what the towel is for and how she got there. Kyla replies it was all in good fun and then she was left out here until she could get her mess cleaned up. The towel is damp from the rain. Jack offers to get her cleaned up. She accepts. He takes the damp towel and begins to dry her body. Collecting the moisture from her neck, breasts, and belly, he wipes her down and cleans her cunt juices tenderly yet thoroughly. 

Her back arches as the soft towel caresses her. She knows he is trying to seduce her as much as help her.  She watches his strong hands as the towel falls away. Jack honestly explains that the opportunity is too good to pass up. He looks over at the house one more time to make sure Mike and Tina are watching as he begins to execute his plan.  Jack wants Kyla to enjoy this now. He has much more interesting plans for later.

He kneels between her legs and poises his lips over hers. His mouth dips down to Kyla's ear to tell her she is safe. He smoothes his hands up her arms to where the ropes are holding her wrists down. He touches the knots and tells her that he is not going to let her go just yet. As his payment for cleaning her up she must let him have his way with her.

Kyla lets out a small sigh from the warmth of his breath as he speaks into her ear. Jack's lips hover just above her skin as he moves down the side of her neck and around to lick the hollow spot at the base of her throat. His tongue runs down her breastbone to the next hollow at the bottom of it. His mouth moves to her left nipple and begins to circle. He closes his lips around her areola and begins to suck. He grazes the back of his fingers down her forearms, over the crease of her elbows, and to her shoulders. Once her left nipple is completely erect, he moves to her right. He tweaks her left nipple, kneading it gently between his fingers.  He wants them to stay that way.

Kyla's body warms under his touch. Her breath becomes rapid. She craves him, but knows she can't have him except on his terms. She looks out the back window to see Mike and Tina watching what is happening to her. Jack sees her looking. He grins from ear to ear as he drops a thumb down to her clit and pushes. He releases the pressure and watches it swell. Kyla lets out a moan of pleasure. Jack rests a finger on her lips. He tells her to be silent. Her only job is to accept what he does. "Do... Not... Move," the simple, yet authoritative command. "Do you understand?" 

"Yes," she replies. His hand lands hard on her pussy, so hard that Mike and Tina can hear the blow. The unexpected jolt sends pain shooting through her womb. 

"Do.. you... Under... Stand?" Kyla nods her head. Another hard blow lands. More shooting pain.

"For the last time, do you understand?" His voice is soft and gentle this time. Kyla doesn't move or speak. A lone tear runs down her face from the corner of her eye. "Good, I'm glad."

Jack rubs her pussy with the flat of his hand to soothe the pain. He kisses her softly down her midline. He tweaks her nipples with his tongue. He rolls them gently between his fingers until they are again erect. His tongue drifts across her belly from one side to the other. He pauses at her navel, inserts his slippery tongue, and sucks gently for just a moment. 

His fingertips lightly brush against the smooth skin of her inner thighs, knees, and calves. Kyla's only reaction is the moisture beginning to glisten at her hole. He brings them back up. They caringly follow the outside of her still splayed folds. He very lightly flicks just the tip of her clit and traces down to her pussy. His finger tip runs around the edge. He pushes in just a half inch and pulls it back out. He traces her mouth with moistened finger. He dips it back into her again, pulling out a little more moisture, and runs it around his own mouth. 

Raising himself back to her face, he kisses her mouth. His tongue runs circles around their lips. He pushes it into her mouth, past her teeth, and lifts her tongue with his. He pulls away from her completely, then gets out of the truck.

Jack heads for the front door. Back in the window, Mike continues to stroke Tina's pussy as they watch the going's on outside. As Jack's hand crushes down on Kyla, Tina shivers slightly. That had to hurt, but discipline is discipline. Mike tell her that Jack may be just what Kyla needs to learn how to do as she's told. Tina agrees.



Mike's hands had traced Jack's movements. His hard member is pressed firmly against Tina's rear. He knows she likes to watch and doesn't care if someone is watching her. She rather likes it.

Jack comes up to the house and enters. After saying hello to the couple he asks what they think of the show so far. Mike removes his fingers from Tina's slit and slides them into Jack's mouth. Jack pulls strongly on them a few times before letting them slip out of his mouth. He asks for permission to select a few items from the play chest.

Before going back to the truck he tells Tina he wants to see her take care of Mike while he does Kyla. Tina agrees and then Jack moves behind Mike. He reaches around and strokes him. He is pleased to find Mike's natural ooze from the head of his penis.  He pulls Mikes hips back against his own and whispers that he'll fix Mike's cravings later. Mike lets out a heavy breath as he feels Jack's cock press against him. He feels the bulge expand through Jack's jeans and grunts. Jack backs away and out the door.

Mike asks Tina to please help him. She greedily takes her husband's dick in her mouth and creates a tight vacuum. Mike takes advantage of it and thrusts forcefully over and over again until he feels his balls tighten, then release.

Jack watches him from the truck and removes his pants to free himself. He loves to watch Mike get blown. The only thing better is doing it himself.

Kyla sees the parcel Jack brought back, but doesn't dare flinch. She doesn't want to hit like that again. She watches Jack remove a blindfold and secure it around her head. He removes the clips from her. She feels them soften back to their usual places. She is drowned in kisses from her navel up while fingers smooth against her legs. She feels his wet tongue trace her pussy.