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April in Texas Ch. 01

By: SLC-Ohio



We batted it around, Louie and I did, as to where we wanted to go for our spring break. I know that term is overused, but a spring break from office and business stress can be a good thing. We are not kids, but we had been going every April to Naples, Florida, where my mother has a fine home. But Florida, at least Naples, is boring. Once past the beach, there's nothing there. They have no cuisine, no olive oil, no wine – everything is imported. The good restaurants are $100 a plate, you'll get a ticket at the beach if you have an out of state tag, and all in all, that sucks. For food pilgrims who are wine drinkers, Naples, Florida is a bust. 

On the other hand, sleeping with Louie in the guestroom of my mom's house, with my mother's permission, was different. My previous husbands had been there with me. But Louie and I, we weren't ever....married.... never had the arrangement licensed...so he never married me, so what...we went to Catholic church together and everyone knew me as his wife, and he was my husband for ten years. Legal records didn't reflect it, that didn't matter. I had his gold cards in my purse. A few states, including Texas, still recognize common law marriage.

That was the longest I've lasted with anyone. Three licensed marriages, three long term live together unions, and my relationship with Louie was the longest ever. When we started out we were each married to other people, all the signs were against us lasting at all. He was a big guy, 6'2, muscular and toned, 190 pounds, with movie star good looks, broad shoulders and a square cut Italian American jaw. I'd wear heals whenever I could, so that he would not tower over my 5'5 thin frame. Louie had a physical presence about him, a personal magnetism, he would attract attention whenever he entered a room. And that means the attention of every good looking woman. He was charming, he had charisma, and as a lawyer he knew what to say and when to say it.

After some thought, we focused on visiting Texas. We could have gone wherever we wanted to go, Greek Isles, Argentina, hell we went to Europe eight times. Well...why Texas? It was my pick. I had work connections there, in San Antonio, and I could write part of the expenses off. If I had 'meetings' with our Texas associate, our company would pick up the cost. As we insurance people say, it became a win – win. I scheduled meetings with the Texas insurance guy, Lamar Scott, to discuss the Texas 'school pool'. Pooling means grouping and brokering, enough of that. Plus Texas is the beginning point of the southwest cuisine of America. Texas has excellent wine, and great unique food, food that blends its base on the variety of people who have settled there. To us, Texas offered a lot more than Florida. But before you read much further I need to add that Louie went online with Texas types, where to go, what to do sort of stuff. We were advised, in advance, that the Texas beaches were the absolute worst of the entire Caribbean gulf coast. That's what Texas people told us about their state, but we went anyway.

The plan was to fly from cold Ohio to hot San Antonio. For that to happen, three ups, three downs. All the hazards of flying multiplied. At the time, our no frills airline was advertising that passengers could carry on their own picnic food, which for us meant a few bottles of Chardonnay, some cheese, some French bread. They didn't throw us off the plane, but they had a whatever when we opened up our own wine. They wanted to sell us wine, at $$ per glass, not let us drink our own carry on. 

Finally, after stops in bars at the St. Louis and the Houston airports, we made it to San Antonio. I had booked a fancy suite at an airport hotel, the kind of place that has its own airport taxi. It was late when we arrived, and the noisy aircraft were overhead, but we were there, finally there. It was after eleven when we checked in, over ten hours out of Ohio. After tossing our luggage down, we checked out the pool and the hot tub, which was right outside our room.

"Louie," I said, "let's get changed and enjoy this hot tub. It will help relax your back. Turn the jets on and the heater up. It's been along day."

"Sure," Louie said, as he cranked the timer up to the maximum half hour.

We went back into our hotel room. Never one to dispute my decisions, Louie slipped on his trunks as I slipped on a black bikini - one of the three suits that I had brought along. In a minute, we'd gathered big hotel towels, a bottle of Chardonnay and two glasses. Louie slid open the sliding glass door and we stepped toward the hot tub. That late, the pool was dark and technically it was closed, but we didn't care. That suite was expensive, one of those 'with kitchen' deals, and I paid. We each eased ourselves into the steaming, swirling water. Louie poured out glasses of wine, and we attempted to unwind after a long day.

Ten minutes or so later, another couple approached, and asked us if it was OK for them to join us. I looked at them, Louie looked at them. They were a very attractive couple, thin, slim. They had their hotel towels and they had their bathing suits on. I sipped on my wine as I checked them out.

"No one has bothered us yet," Louie said. "So, by the power of the Senate and the people of Texas, we are declaring this hot tub to be open for guests of this hotel. It's a little hot, be careful."

The guy was tall with blond hair, mid thirties, and the gal – younger than I am, no doubt - was an attractive brunette. She had a nice top, a firm waist, and long legs. Her long brown hair crossed her chest as she stood in the flickering light from the adjacent guest rooms. Those lights cast reflections across the water, lending a surreal air to the dark evening hour. The tub had reclining steps, which some people descend as they get used to the hot water. First the guy tossed his towel and slid right in, up to his neck, and sighed. But the lady, after tossing her towel, she chose the long slow descent. The water framed her legs like a pair of thigh highs as she stepped in; her tight bikini bottom was balanced a foot from my face. 

This couple - no names - said that they were from somewhere in Oklahoma, that they had also just flown in, and they were in San Antonio on a business trip. Neither wore a wedding ring. We didn't make a lot of small talk, my hunch is that they were equally as tired as we were. Louie and I had another glass of wine. After a few minutes of sitting there, relaxing, the gal whispered something to the guy, and then she spoke.

"Do you guys care if we take our suits off? This will be more comfortable without this tight suit pinching on me."

There was no light in the hot tub, and we four were only bobbing heads at chest line above the water. It was dark outside, we couldn't see much anyway. I certainly didn't care if they wanted to shed their suits.

"Sure, no problem," Louie said back to them. 

There's something about watching another couple, especially a couple that are complete strangers, take their bathing suits off. We leaned back and watched. They each did it under water, but the fact that they were doing it with us there was really exciting. The guy was naked in seconds, but the gal squirmed and tugged, all underwater, and managed to free herself of her suit without exposing so much as her nipples. Instead of flopping their suits on the concrete, they kept them in the water. In the dark, no one could see that they were nude.

Louie looked over at me, and he didn't need to say a thing. I started stripping. We each quickly removed our suits...but...I had to be better at being exciting...I had to better the younger woman...so I sat up a step....so that my boobs, my perfectly matched, childless, natural 36C boobs, were above the water line. I was challenging the younger woman, showing off my body rather than hiding myself under the water. Louie moved over and wrapped his arm around me, he thanked me for being me.

We still hadn't had much conversation with the other couple, even though we were all naked together. They stared at my boobs as if they didn't care, they really were relaxing. The scene was tranquil, much like a European nude beach where sexual tension is not an issue. With the warm jets circulating, I let my open legs float to the top of the water, hoping that the other couple would like looking at me. Louie slipped his hand over to my vagina, but I have never enjoyed being finger fucked in chlorinated hut tub water at a hotel. A private tub, maybe, a beach, OK, but I try to avoid Clorox on my clit. Then I thought that I noticed that the other gal was giving the guy a hand job under the water; she leaned that way, her arm was in motion, but his penis was not visible. Yes, I could see it. I could see it in his face and in his posture, she was working him under the water. Maybe she saw Louie cup my puss, she could have, I was visibly exposed for them. Then she looked our way and spoke.

"He finds this relaxing,' she said as she continued, announcing rather than hiding her efforts. "Sometimes it puts him to sleep, especially after a long day, and we've had a long day today. The effort is all mine, the pleasure his."

As she spoke, I noticed that she had a very pretty mouth. Her white teeth shone in the reflected light, and she pronounced her words succinctly. The long ends of her hair floated on the water as she stroked her male friend's shaft. His eyes were closed as he began to drift off.

That said, he rose up a step, and she did the same. Each were now showing their bare chests for us, in a sitting position. And an enjoyable sight it was. The gal had a perfect pair of boobs; full and round with small nipples. Her right leg was floating on the water as she leaned his way. The guy had his legs spread and was well built, though she was the more attractive member of the pair. Louie and I could now see the movements of her right hand jerking his shaft, most of which was just below the water line. 

"He enjoys the hot water," she turned to us and said, " I can feel a hot jet shooting under his balls".

Soon enough, the guy started to twitch and moan, and when he arched his butt up, she rolled around to mouth his erection. Her back was facing us. She was sucking his dick, that much I guessed, her head was bobbing up and down. The guy ran his fingers through her hair and held her head as she went down on him. But her long hair floated across the water and screened any view we could have of his penis in her mouth. With her back to us, every view of her mouth being fucked was covered by her hair. 

The guy finished his climax in less than a minute. She continued to suck him until he eased back into the water, eyes closed, like some air mattress that had punctured a leak. She eased back in the water too, then she dunked her head, and tossed her long wet hair back over her shoulders.

"He'll sleep well tonight," she said to us, boasting about her abilities.

What a show off, I thought to myself.

She was right about the guy sleeping. He was nearly passed out and ready for the sack. We thought that maybe we'd need to lift him out of the water. By then, Louie and I also had enough of the hot tub. Ironically, the timer on the tub rang, and the jets stopped flowing. The other couple stood up and somehow they climbed out of the hot tub, their wet suits in hand. Though it was still dark, it was a pleasure to see them climb. They were each very attractive, with the hotel room lights illuminating their nude wet bodies, a pleasure to see their legs stretch and their butts move in unison. Then Louie and I emerged, and the four of us stood on the concrete naked. Quickly we examined each other's bodies, I found myself staring at the guy's now shrunken penis. Cold air after the hot water, I thought. We each moved, we postured, the young gal moved toward us to center our attention. As Louie handed me a hotel towel, I glanced at him. His eyes were focused on the young gal, as she slowly toweled the water from her open legs, facing him, eyeing his long but soft penis.

Still game myself, I stretched my towel across my back, and I held it open in the front. Pretending to pick up my wet suit, I squatted, catcher's style, and I spread my knees, giving the other couple another full view of me, and, in a way, thanking them for showing off, for playing with us. Looking back now, they didn't care, they wanted sleep, and so did we.

"It's really late, Sheryl", Louie said. "Let's get back to our room". 

As we walked back to the room, I asked Louie "Did we even get their names?"

"What difference would a name make," he said, "we'll never see them again."

"Right," I responded, "and I don't doubt for a second that you would love to fuck her. Once that guy is asleep...well....I'll make sure that you won't be taking any walks later tonight." 

We had left the lights on, I noticed that I could see through the curtains, and see into the front area of the suite where the kitchen was. Once back in our suite, we tossed our towels and our wet bathing suits in the bathroom. Louie started a bath for me for me – he knows how I enjoy a fine hotel, and that I refuse to sleep coated with chlorine. He had one of those cheap throw away cameras, and we took a few nude photos of each other around our suite. And...well....OK.....he took photos of me on my knees in front of the window, with the lights on bright, sucking his penis. They were like poses. Yes, I posed in the framing of the window, imagining that I was a whore in a red light window in Amsterdam. And he took more photos of me leaning over the kitchen table as he cocked me from behind. But that was a charade, a fun charade, that we played for a few minutes. Sure, I knew that anyone who walked by could see us, I even heard voices and footsteps as I knelt, voices laughing, but I don't think anyone really watched us, it was all pretend.

The bath was fantastic, better than the hot tub escapade. Quiet, private and relaxing. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and allowed the tension of air flight to leave my body. From the edge of the tub, Louie rubbed my shoulders. He fed me all the Chardonnay, and all of his penis, that I cared to swallow. I would take a sip of wine, then suck, then another sip of wine, as he leaned over the tub. How long I stayed there soaking, I don't remember.

"The sheets feel great", Louie yelled from the bedroom, as he turned the bed down. There is nothing like fresh linens in a fine hotel. It's one of my favorite pleasures. Somebody else has to change them, it's all luxury, it's what you pay for. The scent of fresh washed cotton filled the air as I entered the bedroom, nude with my hair wrapped up in a towel. Louie was stretched out and waiting for me.

"What have you planned for tomorrow?" he said, as he flicked the channels on the remote TV. "The weather will be sunny and hot, near 90. And it's only April."

We lay together in the sheets, in the light of the television screen. I started massaging Louie's stomach, down to his dick. He's very much like an alligator, as if anyone ever really rubbed an alligator to sleep.

"I need to do some insurance stuff with Lamar. I'll call him on my cell, first thing, and he'll pick us up. I've reserved a rental car at Alamo, and he says he'll drive us there. Lamar wants to take us to a wine emporium near here that has a fantastic selection of wine, he says they have daily tastings. 'I'll buy you a case of wine, and we'll have a good time, like we used to'...Then we need to find the Menger hotel, which is in the heart of downtown. I suppose that we'll do the river walk, or see the Alamo. Who knows, we may like Texas and you may like Lamar, Louie.

April in Texas Ch. 02



It was noise that woke me up, the noise of big jets flying low over the hotel coming into the San Antonio airport. The half light of early sunrise lit the room. Louie was already up, in the bath. The door was open and I could hear him urinating a strong long piss that probably drained a quart of liquid from his body. When he came back to bed, he noticed that I was awake.

"Are you OK today?" he asked.

"Yeah, well pretty much...get me a glass of water."

Next thing Louie carried the water over, took a sip himself, then handed it to me. It cleansed my dry mouth as I drank a big gulp.

"You snored like a whore," he said.

I turned and covered my head.

"You were lit last night, and you did me right."

The huge hotel pillows were a nice buffer from his nonsense.

"Back from a deep sleep, you have a schedule to keep."

Thinking about it, it was an unusual habit. Louie rhymed in the morning - yes rhymed in the morning - and that was the only way he'd speak. He would chant, sing in rhymes, typically corny rhymes, not high quality poetry. Or maybe change the words to songs to reflect the way he felt. He did it every day, probably still doing it now. Louie sat across the king sized bed, leaned toward me, and put his hand on my face.

"The Texas sky is blue, and your eyes are too."

And then he started singing that crappy theme 'The eyes of Texas are upon you...' I covered my ears.

"Spoon with me dear, I'll chew on your ear."

So we cuddled, snuggled and we spooned. The clock read 6:36, which was about right for us considering that Texas is time wise behind Ohio. Louie ran his fingers across my fanny, and then caressed my vagina. He fingered me, slowly, easily, as I lay facing away from him. Once I moistened up he took some of my juices and rubbed them on his penis. We had been starting our days this way for years. He claimed my hormones made him hard, and once hard, he would gently work his stiff penis into me, sometimes when I was still half asleep. That morning, as always, it was relaxing. He did all the pumping, I just lay there. Louie was long enough for me to get full penetration from the spooning position. But he could never climax, not that way. We'd do the comfortable spoon for as long as he felt like it, and a half hour was not uncommon. And we'd talk.

"So" he said, "am I going to be the spectator while you work today?" Louie reached his hand across my stomach and his middle finger found my clitoris. He began massaging me there as he screwed me from behind. 

"No. There are things...oh that feels good....god, so good...yeah things I have to do to show the company that I am here on business...go up and down on it... there...that's so good...Lamar will be cool with it. I've spent a lot of time with him at company meetings, we're friends."

"A lot of time. Does that mean that you fucked him?"

As Louie asked that he started pumping at a more active pace. 

"No, never. Lamar is...not that way. I mean we'd hang out and drink after work conferences....keep rubbing me there...and he likes me to...he tells me to...flash when we're out. He's harmless, you'll see."

"Have you sucked his cock?"

"No...I've never touched him...not even a kiss. But he's fun to be with...we once... years ago... played a game in Nashville after an insurance convention."

"What do you mean, a game?"

"We planned it...for fun. Some hotel bar that had red, white or pink wine....we'd meet there around 9:00....he challenged me to wear the most see through dress I had....and no underwear....Lamar would be waiting in the bar, in a dark booth in the back..."

Louie listened to me, obviously enjoying the story. Maybe it is healthy, as some say, for couples to express fantasies, and Louie loved hearing the sound of my voice while he made love to me. I went on.

"I didn't have a dress with me...so I wore a light blue, thin lacy diaphanous slip...it was the color of the sky...just a slip, that's all...it had large looping arm holes, thin straps...I added three inch heels, beads...

"No panties?"

"No."

"When I arrived the bar was crowded...full.....long lines for everything....I saw Lamar but I walked through the crowd, showing off, before I joined him...when I finally went to Lamar, I dropped my slip's straps for him in the booth...the slip hung on my hard nipples and the beads hung between my breasts...I sat that way for a few minutes....then I pulled my slip straps up.....I walked to the bar for our drinks, back and forth, brushing into the crowd, pushing my way to the bar, being pushed from behind...unknown hands ...my breasts were rubbed...my crotch felt...my slip lifted up...."

Louie was getting really excited as I tried to recall every detail of a flashing scene that, realistically, happened when I was in my twenties. He loved my sex stories, loved to hear me spin. The more I went on the more he enjoyed it. Then he withdrew from behind and rolled me on my back. I spread my legs wide for him. Once in me again, all the way in me, he played me with deep thrusts, he played me like smooth jazz, he ran his long trombone in and out, in and out.... 

"And Lamar didn't fuck you?" Louie asked, wanting to hear more.

"No, nothing."

"Why not?"

"Lamar was more interested... in the reaction of the men to me...to my flashing...he wanted me...I think.... to entice strangers...so he could watch...he's that way."

Grabbing my arms, Louie held them above my head. Sweat was dripping from his forehead; his sweat and his chest hair coated my boobs and stomach. Louie worked out over me, he was like an athlete in a gym. His arms went up and down like push ups, lifting his weight completely off of me, his waist pumped like sit ups, sticking me, corkscrew moves, deep thrusts, twists, turns, that drove me, that drilled me.... 

"Did you go to his room?"

In the middle of a trembling, quivering orgasm, I could hardly speak.

"No, I didn't."

"What did you do?" 

"We played with the bar crowd... for an hour or so...I had some fun walking back and forth...Lamar was talking with some guy who...came over to our booth..."

"Did you know this guy?"

"No."

"Was that the idea...to find a stranger?"

"No...not really....the idea was to flirt and to have fun."

"Were you having fun?"

"Yes. Lamar told me to sit next to his new friend...in the dark corner of the booth...we hadn't planned on anything that complex, but...then he told me to drop my slip for them...and to pull my legs up on the bench seat...the slip fell down, away from my nipples... and then it rode up as I opened my legs...Lamar's friend fingered me...he sat there drinking a beer, talking to Lamar as he fingered me...then he told me to drop down under the table...Lamar wanted to watch me...watch me...he moved over to our side as I took his friend's cock....in my mouth...it was dark....I don't think anyone else saw me suck him..."

As I went on with my imaginative details, Louie exploded. Works every time, I thought. He rolled off of me and over on his back.

"Feel my head," he sighed.

He was soaking wet. I've seen people put less energy, and less time, into running a 5K. His heart, I rubbed his chest, had to be beating at 150. We were now wide awake, and ready for whatever that Texas day had to offer.

The hotel had a breakfast buffet. I sent Louie there for coffee, while I did a quick rinse of his body fluids in the shower. In a few minutes he was back, putting my styrofoam cup on the bathroom sink.

"Sheryl, we should eat here. The food looks like plastic, but it won't sicken us. I know that I am burning a lot of energy. Throw your shorts on and let's get some of what we've already paid for."

That meant what it always meant with Louie, let's go now. Don't bother with makeup or underwear. So I put on his white tee shirt, a baggy pair of short cut off jeans, high heeled sandals, sunglasses and a ball cap to hide my wet hair.

In a minute we were in the buffet line, sampling the array of sausages, eggs, fake waffles, bacon, juice, and more coffee. There were a couple of single guys, sitting separately, with ties on. Louie and I sat at a small table, Louie facing me, and I sat facing the single guys. I figured that I might tease these traveling salesmen with a surprise when they looked at my tan legs. My cut offs, when I opened my legs, were so loose, they could see all the way to my navel. I sat there spread just enough to let these strangers glimpse my bare puss, and I pretended not to realize it. As we ate, I flashed these strangers, I sucked on my fork after every bite and I licked my lips. Then I called Lamar on my cell phone.

"Sheryl?." Lamar must have recognized my number.

"You guys here in San An?"

I lifted my left leg up to the seat, and I put my arm around my knee. I know that using a cell phone in a restaurant attracts attention, and I yelled into the phone as I flashed my bare crotch.

"Yeah, we're at the airport hotel having breakfast. Louie's fine. I am playing with the crowd, you know, but you need to pick us up and drive us to the rental car place."

"I should be there in twenty minutes. Keep your pants on. Ok, I mean keep your cell on and I'll call if there's a problem."

Damn it, Lamar, in twenty minutes? Twenty minutes was not nearly enough time for me to get things together. Sure, our bags were still packed, but I needed to change, needed to put my face on, needed to check out, and Louie hadn't done his morning regulars and that itself can take twenty minutes. We finished our food and hurried back to our room, just in time to find Lamar at the door.

"Hello, hello" Lamar said. "You are so beautiful..."

"Cut the crap. You've seen me before. Lamar, this is Louie; Louie meet Lamar."

I wondered how Louie would take to Lamar. They were not alike. Most guys, at least those within our company, didn't like Lamar. They didn't like him because he had his own opinions. And they didn't like his short, small frame, and his feminine mannerisms. Most men thought Lamar was gay. Whether he was, I didn't know. He was married, no kids. Louie always got along with other gay guys we knew. I didn't foresee a problem, but I still wondered.

Louie excused himself to use the bathroom and I knew I had a few minutes alone with Lamar. He stood in the doorway of the bedroom while we talked about our plans for San Antonio.

"Should we come by your office?" I asked.

"Yeah, I need to show you a couple of things. It won't take long."

"Anything else?"

"We'll need to telephone Nashville to let them know you're here."

"From your office?"

"Yeah. We can do dinner on the company, maybe tomorrow."

"It'll be hot today. What should I wear?"

I turned my back to Lamar, and I pulled my white tee shirt off. Facing away from him, bare up top, I went on with the conversation.

"How many districts are in the school pool now?"

No response. 

Then, still standing, I unfastened my cut offs and let them fall to the floor. Placing my finger to my lips, I twisted a little his way, and I made the "shhh" sound. I paused for a moment, letting Lamar study my nude body; I figured that it was nice of him to show us around San Antonio. I kicked the cut offs from my ankles, and then I sat on the bed with my legs open as I went through my baggage. Lamar didn't approach me, he was across the room and really didn't see that much, that much more than my backside.

"These should do," I said, as I found my see through panties in my bag. I slipped them on. What I had planned to wear was already out on the bed - a short yellow halter dress that clasped around my neck. Couldn't wear a bra with it. Smiling at Lamar, I dressed myself as he stood there watching.

From the sounds in the bathroom, I knew that Louie was finishing what he called his four SH morning routine. I am one of the four SH routines. It went ' Sheryl, shave, shit and shower'. That's what he'd do every morning he could. I stuffed our loose clothes in a bag, made sure that Louie was ready, put on a little eyeliner and lip gloss, and then I scoped the final check of the hotel room, making sure that we did not leave anything behind. The bill was advance pay. Placing the key card on the table, we three piled ourselves, and our stuff, into Lamar's insurance company issue car - a white Ford Taurus.

"I reserved a rental car at Alamo," I said. "My internet directions say it's here near the airport. Can you find it?"

And it was. Once there, I went inside with Louie while Lamar waited. After a stand in line, we spoke with a counter girl.

"We don't have any record of this reservation, and frankly, even if we did, we are out of cars. It will be a three hours before we have anything, if you can wait. Sorry."

She may as well have said 'screw you'.

"Have you paid them any money, like a deposit?" Louie asked me.

"No."

"Then have Lamar drive us back to the Budget rental we passed. I've rented cars from Budget everywhere. Remember that nice Ford diesel wagon in Munich? I am in their computer, insurance, license, credit card - they won't give me any shit."

Once there, they didn't. But what they did was upgrade us to the biggest car - and probably the only car they had available- for free. A huge, light blue, full size Mercury grandpa edition automobile. Luggage would not be a problem. We loaded that luggage from Lamar's trunk to our own, chatting together in the hot Texas sun as to what was next. It was nearly noon in Texas, we were 'burning daylight'.

"My plan is," Lamar said, "to visit that wine shop I've been telling you about. Their wines are great, I go there regularly. It's not far away, you can follow me. I'll go slow."

The wine shop itself was located in an industrial area, north east of the city center. As we approached, there were car repair shops, old small factories, warehouses - not an area where we would expect to find a fine wine shop. And the place had some phony name, I don't exactly remember, something like 'Wine Forever' or 'Wine, etc.', a name that doesn't say a thing about the proprietor or what's for sale. It was a blue / gray place that didn't look inviting.

But once inside it was a different story. There was a center tasting table with uncorked bottles ready for us. Lamar was at least mildly familiar with the owner, they spoke as friends. And their bottle selection was best described as unique. There was no grocery store wine. Small rooms were set aside, such as the 'French Room' and there were leather chairs, wine books, places to relax and drink. The 'Italian Room' had wines from Italy that we had not seen for sale in the USA, a Cennataio Chianti, a wine that we had hand carried home from Tuscany.

"These are my friends from Ohio," Lamar said, to a large man who appeared to be in charge. "Sheryl, Louie, meet Joe DeSerrento. He owns this place."

"Bongiorno. Sono Luigi Benevento," Louie shot back as he extended his hands, one to shake and the other to grasp.

"And this is Sheryl," Lamar chimed in.

"Thank you for visiting my wine store," Joe said. "My Italian is not so good, 'poco', but welcome. "Would you like Champaigne? We'll start with Champaigne, all right? It's early. It's not always known as a woman's drink, but women almost always like it."

He may have been older, but Mr. Joe was an older handsome man, a Sean Connery look alike with his square jaw and gray temples. His wide set Italian eyes studied me, and I enjoyed his friendly attention. He poured us flutes of Champaigne.

It was California sparkling, but it was very good. Dry, refreshing, especially considering the heat of the day. We drank with the owner, and this was unusual for us, unusual for the owner to be openly drinking with customers, without charge. In Ohio it's illegal. I had a glass and then I had another...Louie gulped his Champaigne and wandered around with the owner's niece, who worked there. She was a pretty blond, generations removed from the Naples of her great grandparents. She had a black halter top on that flapped open when she bent a certain way and very short shorts. As I drank more, I noticed that this young gal was teasing, seductively showing off her boobs, not just for Louie, but for me too. Lamar, I lost track of Lamar, as the Champaigne went to my head. 

The owner Joe poured me another flute, too quickly, and the bubbly overflowed onto my sundress. Or maybe I spilled a full glass on myself. The cold Champaigne soaked my thin dress and exposed my bare front. I looked like a candidate in a wet tee shirt contest, but I made no attempt at modesty. My nipples were hard and showing. As I took a step back, the niece brought me a cotton towel. I patted the front of my dress, rubbing my boobs through the now transparent fabric. This was a holiday and I was having fun.

"There's a dryer next door," she said, "I can lend you something to put on, if that's... embarrassing you... too much."

She stared at my nipples the whole time she spoke.

I arched my back to take full effect of the attention and I walked across the room. She didn't get the fact that I wanted to show my boobs off. Inside my mind, I wanted to take my dress off, I wanted to drink Champaigne from my shoe. 

"I'll be fine," I said. "When I go out in the sun, it will dry right away."

Louie was accustomed to my little trick. It was one of many that I'd used when we went out flashing. We had our nude weekends and sexual adventures. I'd flash strangers in public places. A couple of times, I don't think he knew it, I gave head...behind his back...quickie blow jobs...

Louie and the niece were sampling the other open wines, a Windham's Black Label Chardonnay from Australia, a Pinot Grigio from the Venetio. The young blond was having a time teasing him, but he hung there right beside me. My electronic leash, I thought. Together we picked out a case, spending the better part of an hour socializing with these folks, flirting and drinking.

"We're staying at the Menger," I said, a little loud, thinking that it was a famous hotel and how cool I was to afford it. I was boasting. "Is it hard to find?"

"No," the younger blond said, "it's in the middle of downtown, right next to the Alamo. Can't miss it."

I knew that. Maps and printed directions were stuffed in my bag, I knew the address, what roads to take, when and where to turn, I even had a confirmed suite number.

"I'll lead you there," Lamar said. "Let's load up, and follow me."

We exchanged hugs as we said our goodbyes, Louie groping the young blonde's tits and me getting groped by the owner. I shook my breasts into the Mr. Joe's chest as he felt my ass. But that was enough. I blame the Champaigne. Lamar picked up our case of wine, I rearranged myself, and we left.

The drive to the Hotel Menger was uneventful. Uneventful because I closed my eyes, and when I opened them we were parked in the entrance turn at the hotel.

"Sheryl...Sheryl.."

Then we were walking through the hotel lobby. It was a grand old hotel, more than a hundred years old, and the lobby was huge, built when guests would gather there before air conditioning. Antique furniture, Persian rugs, the place was as nice as I hoped it would be. 

"That's a Vose and Davis desk," Louie said, as he noticed an item of furniture. "Fifteen thousand for a new one, and that one is seventy years old."

Louie continued to mill around the lobby as I completed the check in. A few minutes later we were dropping our luggage in our room on the fourth floor. While the lobby may have been that of an old hotel, everything else had been expanded and remodeled. Our room had a balcony terrace that overlooked a swimming pool and an enclosed courtyard, with other rooms directly across from us and at our sides too. Other guests could see onto our balcony. I decided to freshen up while Louie moved the car to the hotel parking lot.

I stripped off the sundress and rinsed it out in the sink. The sun was shining through the curtains of the balcony. Drawing the curtains back, I forgot for a second that I was nearly nude. Well, ok, I didn't really forget, I had my panties on. I walked out on the balcony and hung the dress to dry on the wrought iron railing. The hot sun warmed my bare body and I took a long time making sure the dress was evenly laid. Then I heard Louie come back in the room. He found me standing on the balcony, on full display for anyone who cared to look.




April in Texas Ch. 02



"How's the sun?"

"It's starting to burn my tits," I said.

I walked back in the room and Louie reached for a hug. As he hugged me, he pulled my panties down. Lifting one leg, and then the other, I stood as he removed them. I thought he wanted to make love, but I was wrong.

"I don't want to get us thrown out of this place. Let me hang some of these large hotel towels over the railing. The chairs there recline. Then we can lie out nude, and still have some privacy." 

He set the chairs flat, and I laid out on one. Inside the sliding glass door, I watched as Louie undressed. His body continually fascinated me, still does. Whether in a dress suit or naked, he was the best looking man I'd ever been with. He walked onto the balcony and lay next to me.

"The sun is so hot," I said, "it feels great."

I started rubbing his penis. If other guests, from the upper floors, were watching me, might as well give them something to watch.

"This is getting hard too."

I wetted my index finger and thumb with my tongue, and I worked Louie's growing penis with my hand. I had learned in high school that a wet hand is more stimulating.

"You were pretty horny at that wine shop," he said.

I took the head of Louie's cock in my mouth.

"You looked to me like you were ready to strip."

"I was, and now I have."

I tickled Louie's balls with my tongue, I ran my tongue up and down the front of his shaft, I took his penis in till I gagged - if anyone was watching they were getting the full show. But there was no way he was going to ejaculate; after ten minutes I stopped mouthing him.

Then I pulled off of Louie. The Champaigne had worn off, and I needed some rest. We didn't go all the way to Texas to spend the day screwing.

"Louie," I said, "Let me rest here for an hour or so. The river walk is just a couple of blocks away. We'll go there and find a nice café along the water. Ok?" 



April in Texas Ch. 03



Nude, I'd fallen asleep, laying out on the balcony at the Menger Hotel. Any number of hotel guests, above our floor, could see me. Louie had wrapped the balcony railing with towels that hid my display from the kids in the pool below. Stomach down, back exposed, I don't know how long I slept, maybe a half hour. What woke me was the touch of Louie rubbing sun tan lotion, cool lotion, on my backside. 

That winter, I had been tanning in booths in Ohio, I always stay tanned. But the booths give me triangular white patches below my butt. Never did figure out why, I guess my cheeks flatten and cover those spots from the tanning bulbs. I have seen the same spots on girls' butts on the internet. Plus I tan in a bikini, so I have a lot of 'white tail' area. Louie was gently rubbing the oil on me, a nice deep massage, and a nice gesture so that I wouldn't burn raw in the Texas sun.

"I think you're done on this side," he said, and he rolled me over.

I turned my head his way and I opened my eyes. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, the towel flapped and let me know that he was nude too. His muscular physique glistened in the son. I reached my hand in and rubbed his cock, I could still taste him in my mouth. 

"What time is it?"

"Around 4:30, maybe later. Your cell phone was ringing, better check it."

"When?"

Louie was now massaging my front side. He started tugging my toes, my joints, and he worked up each leg. Deep manipulations. He knew better than to finger me with that suntan grease on his hands. My cell phone was next to him.

"It rang a while ago, your phone will tell you. Here, see for yourself."

I lifted myself up on my elbows and checked the 'missed calls'. It was Lamar who had called, who else. I saw his number and pressed send.

"Lamar...what do you want?" 

"I thought we'd all be getting together tonight."

"Lamar, we don't have any business to do. I was taking a nap when you called. Now Louie's giving me a massage...no, he won't answer my cell...yes, I'm nude...he is within reach...no, I am not...enough of that Lamar, what's your point?"

"Sheryl," Lamar said, "I've made dinner reservations for four at a great restaurant. My wife is excited to meet you guys. So we want to do it tonight, dinner on the company. Let Public Entities pay. I'll pick you guys up at the Menger at 6:45. Ok?

"Sure...ok...who'll argue about a free meal on Public Entities. How nice is the restaurant? Should I wear a dress or jeans...is it formal?

"Yeah. Louie should wear a coat and tie, and....I don't want to tell you guys what to wear, or not to wear. You're such an attractive couple, be yourself, you'll look great."

"Ok. Come by our room with your wife...Mindy, right? We can have a glass of wine, or maybe buy you one in the Hotel Menger bar. Louie wants to drink there, he really does. He read that it's the same bar where Teddy Roosevelt recruited the Rough Riders for the Spanish American War. Just come to our room. See you. Bye."

All the while Louie continued with his massage. He stood over me, working my pale white breasts. I enjoyed his long massages, he'd check my breasts for lumps, and he'd examine the moles on my back for swelling. He liked the personal touch, occasionally, of taking care of me. I dreamt of rewarding him with some special sex, if I was drunk enough, later that night.

"Looks like dinner tonight is with Mr. And Mrs. Lamar," I said. "And I don't have a clue what to wear."

"That's easy," Louie said. "We'll get ready, shower and stuff, but we won't get dressed until they get here. Once we see what they're wearing, we can match it. I have pairs of slacks, I can throw a sport coat over them, or go with a polo shirt. If they show up in jeans, we'll wear jeans. It is San Antonio. What's Mrs. Lamar look like anyway?"

"I'm not that sure, why do you ask?"

"Come on, Sheryl. When couples double date, you want to be an attractive foursome. Have you ever met her?"

"No, this will be the first. But I've seen pictures of her. I'd say that she's better looking than Lamar. We'll see soon enough."

At precisely 6:45 we heard a tap on the hotel door. Louie had iced down a Texas Chardonnay, a Llamo Reserve, barrel aged. Glasses were set at the round table near the balcony doors. Following Louie's suggestion, I had not completely dressed. My bathrobe covered my underwear, Louie's did the same. I had on a pair of broad white lace hipster panties, a matching white lace bra – something that I could put anything over. And my makeup was nearly ready. Louie answered the door and invited Lamar and his wife into our suite.

Lamar had on a brown suit, a straight business insurance man's suit. Wherever we are going, it's air conditioned, I thought.

"Sheryl, Louie...this is Mindy."

"Nice to meet you," we separately though politely responded.

One glance told me that she was the quiet type, or that's what she wanted to project. And better looking than Lamar, a lot better. Brown hair, about 5'5. She was dressed conservatively, heels, hose, a gray wrap around dress tied at the waist, cut slightly above the knee. But the dress did highlight her figure, and Mindy had a figure.

"Sit down, people. Louie, pour them some wine. Relax for a few while we finish dressing."

When Mindy sat, her dress opened a little, and I caught a glimpse of the lace top of her thigh high stockings. Actually her dress opened a lot and she knew it. Her stockings had the wide, four inch lace tops, the expensive kind from Victoria's Secret. She knew she was showing her legs, and her gaze was focused on the belt on Louie's bathrobe. "Christ," I thought, "you just met the guy."

We didn't actually plan it, but Louie and I simultaneously went through the motions of getting dressed in our hotel room. Forget privacy. Louie got up, he took his bathrobe off, and he walked around the hotel room bare-chested loose in his boxer shorts – all the while drinking wine and asking Mindy about Texas wineries. When he walked over to refill his wine glass, he stood close to where Mindy sat. She reached out and patted his ass. I didn't...object...but she had her hand on my husband's ass. He was teasing her, and she him. They were quite comfortable together. 

I took my robe off too. My bra and panty set was...brief. It covered as much as a bikini, though more see through. I added some highlights to my makeup in the hotel mirror, while we continued to chat. I settled on a bare shouldered maroon shift with a short hemline that zipped up the back. Louie chose his linen sport coat and black slacks. Lamar and Mindy paid more attention to Louie primping around than they did to me.

As Louie was tying his tie, Mindy got up to 'help' him. She stood directly in front of him, she straightened his tie, and she pressed herself into his body. "There, that's better, " she said. Lamar sat there smiling.

"You look really great," Mindy said to Louie, "we're going to have a nice night together." 

I pulled my dress on. When I adjusted it I noticed that my bra straps stuck out. It fit nicely, it was tight and hugged my curves. But I wasn't going out to dinner, dressed up, with my underwear hanging out. I took the dress off and I pranced back and forth, undecided about what to do. The solution was obvious. I faked frustration.

"Is there a problem?" Louie said.

"I can't wear this bra with this dress."

"Then don't wear one. I don't think you need it. That dress holds you in place." Turning to Lamar and Mindy, he said, "What do you guys think? Should she go without the bra?"

"Only one way to judge," Mindy said. "Try it without the bra."

I turned so that I was facing the three of them as they sat waiting on me to decide. "Ok," I said, and I reached behind my back and undid my bra. As they watched, I removed my bra and tossed it on the bed. I stood there in my thin panties, bare breasted, in front of Lamar and his wife, whom I had just met. Bending their way, I reached out and took my wine glass. As I took a sip I posed for them – hand on hip, legs open, wine glass to my lips – as I stared out over the balcony. The falling Texas sun cut through the curtains and illuminated me like a spotlight. The wine was sweet, and I spent the next few minutes doing nothing but showing off my body for my husband and for our Texas friends.

Then I turned and I walked across the room. Picking my dress up, I pulled it back on and I adjusted myself into it. Not missing a beat, Louie was out of his chair and lifting the zipper on the dress for me. I added matching open toe heels, no hose. Looking at my image in the mirror, it was a nice fit.

"I'm ready, let's go."

We rode together with Lamar in the company car, and that was a good thing. We would have never found this restaurant, not with our limited knowledge of San Antonio. Lamar turned left here, he turned right there, he may have been lost himself. But he found it, and it was an unusual find.

What we found was a two story building in an expensive rehabbed neighborhood. The interior was entirely new, remodeled. The first floor had a retail store that sold herbs, pottery, furniture and some antiques, and the restaurant was up the stairs on the second story. A restaurant upstairs is not totally unique – there's one in Columbus – but it is unusual.

It was one of those open kitchen restaurants, small, twelve tables or so. The hostess was a very attractive blend, maybe one – fourth black, slim, about 5'7, with firm round boobs and a high ass. She seated us at the best table in the place, in the center of the restaurant. When she bent over, I caught a nice flash of her chest, and I'm sure that Louie did too. 

The staff came close to outnumbering the guests. Three different gals doted around our table. Lamar and I discussed whether, or not, the company would pay for wine; whether we should put that on a separate tab so as to avoid reporting our consumption. The wine list was great but for one thing – the lack of Texas wines. They had one Texas wine on the list. When I visit someplace, anyplace, what I seek is local cuisine and local wine. There is nothing better, Louie has taught me and I believe, than food and wine that is produced in the area.

One special of the night was fish, a bass of some type. The bass was, according to the waitress, raised on a Texas fish farm not far from San Antonio. "It was swimming this morning," she said, " and it can be on your plate tonight. It's served with an herb sauce and highlighted with giant gulf shrimp. And all our selections come with house salad, our own fresh bread and choice of potato."

She was a cutie, a blond hair, blue eyed perky Texas gal who knew how to work her table. Did she smell 'expense account?' I think so.

"And this Texas wine you have, how is that?" I asked. 

"It's from Becker vineyards, and it's the only Texas wine we carry. I find it exceptional in comparison to other oak aged, barrel fermented Chardonnays. It will be splendid with the bass, I recommend it."

"Then bring a bottle of the Becker, four glasses, and we'll try it," Louie said. He didn't care about Lamar's expense account, he always kept an extra few hundred dollar bills on him where no one would ever guess them to be. "Bart Maverick, not Brett," he'd say, whatever that meant.

The other special was rack of lamb. Our wonderful waitress explained that the lamb was from near Johnsonville, that it was small Texas spring lamb that had never tasted grass. "These are so small and sweet, you get the whole side, all fourteen ribs. It sounds like a lot, but the loins are tiny. They have been marinating in a honey Dijon sauce. We roast these over open flame, and only when ordered."

"Wow...well...Sheryl?"

I nodded. He knew to order the specials. A special in a fine restaurant will, most often, highlight a chef's creativity. Louie spoke for us, "she'll have the bass, and I'll have the lamb. Please bring the Becker Chardonnay now, and when the lamb is served, bring a bottle of the (he pointed the bottled out on the wine list) Leone de Castris Salice Salento, the '97. That's a fair price for such an exceptional wine."

Lamar and Mrs. Lamar each ordered free range chicken off the menu. So much for their taste in food. To anyone who has not been around those filthy birds, 'free range' means shit eaters. Picking shit with the chickens... 'free range' birds are the sewage system of the barnyard. At best, they eat bugs. I won't order it ever. But we were comfortable, getting further acquainted, and enjoying the Becker Chardonnay as we waited on our food.

In every possible respect, my food was fantastic. And so were the wines. Louie's lamb looked the same and smelled the same as the flame roasted rack he had once ordered in Orvieto. My fish was superb, and I believed the waitress as to how fresh it was. Their chicken? They seemed to enjoy it. And they enjoyed the wines. We finished of with a split of Lungarotti Vin Santo, while Lamar and Mindy had decaf coffee.

"Was everything all right?", the attractive hostess asked us as she wandered among the few remaining guests. "Let's see...not much left on these plates. Does anyone care to see the desert tray?"

"I'm fine", I said, "no desert."

"We're full too," Lamar added.

"You can help me," Louie said. "I don't see the restroom. Where is it?"

"Actually, it's on the first floor, down the steps," she responded. "It'll be easier for me to show you, come on, follow me." Louie took a last sip of the Vin Santo, excused himself, and walked away with the hostess.

"How long have you two been married?"

"Five years," Mindy said, "though we lived together for a year before that. I have a daughter, Karen, from a prior marriage, she was living with us, but she moved in with her boyfriend. Now we have our house...to ourselves."

"And we're taking you there once we've finished with our coffee," Lamar said. "No objections. I'm the driver, right? We've captured you two, kidnapped you, and we're taking you home with us."

"Whatever you say, Lamar, so long as you return us to the Menger at a reasonable hour. That suite was too expensive, we are going to sleep there tonight."

"My daughter's room is available," Mindy added, "I could have it ready in no time."

"No thanks. But I did bring a bottle of the finest wine made in Ohio, a Markko Cab Sav, as a present for you two. We could drink that at your house."

"Then we need to get going," Lamar said. "What's taking Louie so long?" Lamar then motioned for the waitress, and she presented him with the bill. He placed the Public Entities VISA card in the plastic folder. A minute later, and after adding in the tip, he was signing the line. We were ready to leave.

We saw Louie climbing the stairs with the hostess. Her blouse was disheveled, and her lipstick smeared. I sensed that she had shown Louie more than where the restroom was. He's not a pushover though, he never was. 

The coffee perked Lamar enough so that the drive to his house was uneventful. It was a medium size house in an older area of town, probably built in the fifties. My guess was based on the size of the trees in the yard. Small lot, two story house. They led us inside, and the front room was a surprise. Lamar had converted the living room into a rehearsal / recording studio for his rock and roll band. It was completely set up – full drums, guitars, amps, electric keyboard, microphones, it was as if the band was there rehearsing that day. I knew that Lamar played piano, but I didn't expect his house to be a recording studio.

Immediately Lamar and Louie started talking about music. Louie played a few notes on the keyboard, strummed a few guitar chords, banged the snare drum a few times – he knew how to play enough to fake it when he felt like it. Lamar and he were talking about jazz when Mindy offered to show me the rest of the house. Leaving the men alone, she led me through one room and then another. In the extra bedroom upstairs, there was a picture of a young woman who I assumed was her daughter Karen. The young woman pictured was thin, well built, and very pretty, and she was in a very revealing pose. To me, it appeared that the photo was cropped just above her nipples.

"She lived with us until she was nineteen," Mindy said, answering my questions before they were asked. "Lamar raised her, she has no contact with her real dad."

I laughed. It was hard for me to imagine Lamar as a father figure.

"Why'd she move out?"

"She wasn't comfortable having her boyfriend stay here."

"You'd let her have her boyfriend stay over?"

"Yes. Lamar encouraged it, and frankly she got tired of his routines, tired of playing by his house rules. He's very demanding."

"Really. And what was so bad about his rules?"

"Well...Sheryl...when we first married Lamar insisted that Karen leave the bathroom door open. She was fourteen. He'd watch Karen shower. We also would...visit the nude parks, the beaches, the lake up at Austin, and we'd take Karen with us. He liked having her around nude to attract attention. From when she was young, we always bathed together, and once she'd matured, well..."

"Lamar has always had a thing about watching, and using women to attract attention," I said.

"He would photograph Karen nude...then Karen and me, nude together, and with other nudists at the parks. It grew into my taking photos of them together. But believe me he wouldn't touch her, not when she was a minor."

Too much insurance law, I thought.

"Karen went through a few boyfriends, she'd bring them home once she turned eighteen. At first, Lamar would secretly film them having sex. Then he became more bold. Karen was required to undress, completely strip, in front of us – house rules - and in front of every guy she brought home. Lamar loved watching the guys react."

"He always insisted that Karen have sex with her boyfriends while we watched, insisted that sex be out in the open. And then, we started to join in with them. Then her new boyfriend, a guy who claims he loves her, stood up to Lamar. And they moved out. They've been gone four months."

"Was Lamar screwing Karen?"

"No. You know Lamar better than that, don't you? Lamar would watch, he'd watch Karen's boyfriends fuck her, he'd take photos of Karen with them, he'd take photos of me nude with her boyfriends. The guys didn't care. Hey, it was a lot of fun, I admit it. I'm thirty six. Lamar hasn't screwed me in over three years. It was the only sex I was getting at the time."

"Jeez...you're not bullshiting me, are you? Lamar hasn't screwed you in three years?"

"Don't tell Lamar I told you this. He'd die if he thought you knew."

"Well what do you do now that Karen's gone?"

"One of Karen's first boyfriends...a twenty three year old guy named Eric...he got into the crazy sex stuff, the photos, and he really likes me...Lamar lets me have him over, if I ask his permission. He still watches us, but it's different. Eric bosses Lamar around, makes him put clean sheets on the bed and wait on us. Lamar goes into a trance of obedience, he'll do whatever Eric asks."

"What does whatever mean?"

"Lamar must prep me for sex to Eric's liking. He does my toenails, perfumes my body, dresses me in erotic outfits, keeps me shaved. And he must thank Eric, whenever he visits, for taking the time to screw his wife."

"Mindy...you're telling me these things...I don't know you that well, but...why don't you leave? Games like that are weird. Lamar is abusing you in every way, just because some boy toy enjoys the pleasure doesn't make it right."

"And you don't play games, Sheryl?"

Then I heard Louie's voice, calling from downstairs.

"Where's that Markko? I want to open it for Lamar and Mindy."

"I'll be right down," I yelled back.

Minutes later, I heard the distinctive pop of a sound cork being pulled from a sound bottle of wine. Markko wines, from Conneaut, Ohio, are exceptional. The four of us sat in a family room, the room with the TV, the couch and the computer. We each sipped glasses of Arnie's Reserve Cab.




April in Texas Ch. 03



"This is great," Lamar said. "It's rich, has depth. I can't believe it's from Ohio."

"We take his wines as gifts when we travel, they are consistent and impressive," Louie said. "What do you think Mindy?"

"Velvety...it has...great nose, great color..."

In ten minutes we had finished that bottle. Then Lamar brought out fine Cognac, real French Cognac, my personal favorite. I started drinking the delicious distillate. It went straight to my head, real booze always does. Fortunately for him, Louie passed on it, he doesn't drink hard liquor. More for me, I say, and more I had. I wondered what was next. Then Lamar spoke.

"Mindy, take your dress off. Show Louie that fine outfit I bought for you to wear tonight."

Without any hesitation, Mindy stood up and moved close to Louie. She undid the sash on her dress, let the dress fall off her shoulders, then she handed the dress to her husband Lamar. She transformed and became glamorous. The fine outfit consisted of a black garter belt, see through thong black panties, and a black half bra that covered only the bottom of her breasts. With her heels still on, Mindy ran her hands through her hair as she posed for us. Rid of her conservative attire, she was much more pleasing to my eyes.

"What do you think, Louie? Do you like Mindy's outfit? Do you like it, Sheryl?" Mindy rotated in front of us as her husband went on.

"Go ahead and feel her ass, Louie. You can feel her too, Sheryl."

Mindy moved over and offered Louie her nipples to suck. Me, I didn't know what to do. After what I heard upstairs, I was not surprised that Mindy's obligation was at least to try to seduce Louie while Lamar watched. They had obviously worked out some sort of plan. But how was I to fit in? Should I object? Should I let it happen? As far as I knew, Louie had been a faithful lover to me for many years, and I didn't want that to be ruined by Mindy.

Then Mindy turned to me. "Stand up, Sheryl," she said.

I was not so fast to stand. Mindy moved closer and put her arms around my neck, and she kissed me with an open mouth. I closed my eyes, she was a great kisser. As our tongues darted in and out, my resistance began to fade. I felt her undo the clasp of my dress, I felt her draw down the zipper.

"This can't be that tough for you," she said. "Let's show off, together, for Louie and Lamar. I'm sure Louie won't complain."

So I stood up and let my dress fall, standing there bare breasted in my thin panties and my heels. Mindy picked my dress up and handed it to Lamar. "Both of our dresses, Lamar, you have both of our dresses."

Mindy then took her half bra off. "Let's start with a tits show. Sheryl, show your tits to Lamar, while I show Louie mine."

"I think Lamar's already seen my tits enough," I said, and, feeling the alcohol, I sat back down on the couch.

"Really?" Louie asked. "If you didn't have a problem before, you shouldn't have a problem now. Our hosts have commanded you. When in Rome..."

"Yes, Mindy added. "Your hosts have commanded you, Sheryl. Do as you're told. Lamar tells me that he's already seen you nude, but Louie hasn't seen me. Be fair to him."

"I'm ok with it," Louie said, but I stayed seated.

Mindy went on. "Lamar says that you two play sexual games at company meetings, that you play games with strangers. Let's see...he talks about a four way in Columbus, when you were tagged with a DWI after leaving some Overland Park sales agent's hotel room...the whole company knows that one...then there's Colorado Springs with you nude in the hot tub...there are pictures...and Nashville, where Lamar watched you give head in a bar. I don't think he made all that up. I could go on with more. Does Louie know about your games?"

"I...I guess he does now."

But the truth was Louie didn't know about most of the things I'd done, and I didn't want him to know. Mindy could ruin everything if she continued.

"Louie knows how you earned your promotions? How you went from a twenty thousand a year CSR to a manager making eighty four..."

"Well...I've done some things to advance my position within the company..."

Mindy pulled me toward her and whispered in my ear. "I'll keep quiet if you do as you're told. If you don't, I'll let Louie know all the details. You're not so stupid as to risk loosing him, are you? Lamar keeps a private file on everyone at Public Entities, and yours is rather thick. It's his job security. Now get on with the show Sheryl."

And so I did. Rising back up, I moved across the room and stood inches from Lamar. He studied my breasts and body intensely, but he did not touch me. From the corner of my eye, I saw that Louie was enjoying Mindy in a more physical way. Then Mindy spoke again.

"Your panties Sheryl?" Mindy then lowered her black panties, keeping her garter, her heels and her thigh highs on. She handed her panties to Lamar.

"Take your panties off now Sheryl," she demanded. Without waiting any longer, Mindy grabbed my panties and pulled them down. I didn't fight, I let her do it. It was easier than doing it myself, and I was half drunk. Mindy knelt before me as she lifted my panties through my heels. She examined my puss. Then something came over me. I enjoyed the attention and she realized it. Mindy began telling me what to do – to move around the room, to twirl, to squat. Then she ordered me to kneel in front of Louie with my legs open wide. Next she told me give my husband a thrill.

"Take Louie's pants down. Take Louie's cock in your mouth, and show us how well you give head. I've heard you suck well, Sheryl," Mindy said, "now I'll see."

And see she did. I licked Louie's shaft and I rubbed his hard dick all over my face, under my chin, across my cheeks. I took him all the way down, at least as far as I could while kneeling. Then, with my mouth still on him, I wrapped his penis between my breasts, pushing my tits with my hands against his dick as he fucked my mouth.

"I'm sure that you won't mind if Lamar takes photos, will you Sheryl? Louie, do you mind?"

Louie was having his penis sucked, he wasn't about to say anything. I could see the camera flashes though my closed eyes as Lamar moved the lens closer and closer to my face.

"Let's not get carried away with things, sweetheart. Save some of Louie for later. Come here, Sheryl, and sit by me on the couch."

"Now open your legs so that Lamar can get shots of you spread."

Mindy kissed me again. Long kisses, deep kisses. As we kissed, she finger fucked me, and Lamar took photos of it. Mindy dropped between my legs, I knew what was coming, she put her mouth on me. She worked her fingers in and out of my vagina as she licked and nibbled on my clitoris. 

I couldn't move, and at that point I was overwhelmed with pleasure. Mindy's oral skills were excellent. She knew right where to probe, what worked, what didn't. I couldn't keep up with her. Soon I was overcome by orgasm. I lay back, lightheaded, as Mindy rose up.

"One down, one to go," she said. 

Louie knew his cue. He stood tall as Mindy knelt down to swallow him. Lamar was at it with the camera again, taking photos of his wife sucking Louie's long penis. Considering all the circumstances, including that I was sucking him a few minutes before, Louie took quite a while to ejaculate. Mindy was showboating for the camera and Louie, maybe, wanted to hold off and fuck her. I wanted him to get off in her mouth, and quickly. I certainly didn't want to watch Louie fuck her, and I didn't want Lamar having any more trophy pictures of us. Thankfully, Louie came, and Mindy continued sucking him until he was soft. 

Sitting there on their couch, I realized that we had been set up. I found my panties and I put them back on. Next I put my dress back on. What had happened, when it was over – to blame alcohol is a thin excuse – it wasn't fun or exciting or even kinky. It was closer to blackmail rape, after drunkenness, and I was Lamar's victim. Why did he want those photos? And most of the pics were shots of me, Louie's face could not be seen. The photos of Mindy were taken from behind. What Lamar had gathered was a full digital card of me involved in a group sex session. I feared that someday he would use them as a control over me, and over my future at Public Entities.

"Lamar," I said, "take us back to the Menger. If you can't, or won't, then I'll call a cab."

"I'll take you. Let's go."



April in Texas Ch. 04



Once back in our hotel room, I immediately went into the bathroom. I locked the door behind me. "How could I?" I thought. "How could I have embarrassed myself, embarrassed Louie...how could I let my business associate Lamar take nude photos of me having sex...am I insane?....how could I let his wife Mindy order me around..."

"It must have been the alcohol...or maybe Lamar put something else in the Cognac...maybe an aphrodisiac...I had no control...it wasn't the date rape drug, I didn't pass out...I was out of control."

My heels, my dress, I threw them in the corner of the bathroom. After unwrapping the seal on the water glass, I filled it, and I drank a full glass. Then I drank another. I paced for a minute, and then I knelt before the toilet. "Got to do it," I thought, "do it now."

I stuck my fingers down my throat and I gagged...I stuck them down again, and again...and my vomit came, my stomach muscle reflexes threw it into the toilet...the fish, the wine, the Cognac, the bread...more to come, I stuck my fingers back down my throat until I vomited again...I had to rid my body of the poison...more fish and food...standing up, I drank another full glass of water and I paced...I then stuck my fingers back down my throat.... more vomit came...more water, more vomit...more fingers, more water and more vomiting, again and again until my vomit was clear, until I had cleansed myself of any trace of the poison.

"Sheryl," Louie asked through the bathroom door, "are you all right? Can I get something for you?"

"You can leave me alone."

"Honey, if your sick, I can ask the hotel clerk for some medicine."

"I'm not sick, I don't want to have a hangover, that's all."

I turned the shower on. I had to purify myself. Climbing in, the warm water cleansed the outside of my body, but didn't change my feeling that I was a piece of shit. I had humiliated myself, I had humiliated Louie...he now knew how I was promoted to management, why my salary was quadrupled.... 

My razor was on the sink, I reached out and I grabbed it. I lathered myself and I shaved a very close, rough shave...all the way from my ankles to my navel...yes, I cut myself, once, then I cut myself again, and again. Little cuts that I could hide or blame on a dull razor. Who would see the cuts? No one. It's easy to cut yourself while shaving, move the razor sideways. It's easy to scrape yourself raw, change the angle of the blade. Without at first realizing it, I was crying, as I was cutting my skin on my legs, then on my crotch, then my folds. 

"Louie's going to throw me out with the trash," I thought. "No way he'll let me stay in his house or be around his sons. Lamar showed him what a slut I was...what a slut I still am...he won't want me anymore."

I shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. The towels wiped away most signs of my minor injuries. After emptying a small give away bottle of hotel bath oil on my legs, I was fine. I waited in the locked bathroom until I thought Louie was asleep. When I left the bathroom, Louie was in bed, under the covers. The air conditioning made the room quite cold. I slipped between the clean cotton sheets and faced away from him. I thought of the saliva of that bitch Mindy, her saliva, drying on Louie's penis. I thought how I had been reduced to watching another woman take his cock, another woman better me, another woman show Louie that I was a shit, just another cunt, another whore. The lights were off when he turned my way.

"Remember when we first started going out?"

I didn't respond, I had heard enough history lessons about my past.

"You were married to Don Roberts. And I was married. That was years ago. Before we dated, I did your divorce from Jim, when you were living with Mick Givens. Then you were running around with Rhonda and the gals in her escort service."

More history lessons. Next he'll bring up my training for the CIA. 

"My point is," Louie said, "that there is nothing, not one thing, that Lamar can say or show me that will change the way I feel about you. Sheryl, the best part of our relationship is that we rescued each other. I'd still be fucking whores in my office, if not for you. You bring out the best in me, you have that talent, and I will keep trying ...I know I failed tonight...I'll keep trying to bring out the best in you."

"But tomorrow, I'm hiding your cell phone. I don't want you to think about Public Entities Insurance for even a second. I want us to see the Alamo, see the river walk, drink in the hotel bar. You want to see Corpus, Padre Island, Austin - we are going to make our own decisions about what we do here. Texas is big, we have time and a car, we can go in any direction." 

I didn't say a thing. Instead, I went back in the bathroom. I lathered a washcloth with soap and warm water, and I brought it, with a large towel, to our bed. Reaching out, I flicked the lights back on.

"Here," I said, "lay across this towel."

Kneeling beside the bed, I washed Louie's genitals. I cleaned his cock, his balls, his pubic hair. When he rolled over, I washed his ass, I wanted every trace, every scent of that whore Mindy off of him. Taking the warm washcloth, I worked down Louie's legs, and I slowly washed his feet, massaging every toe. Then I dried his body and tossed the towel and washcloth on the floor of the hotel room. Louie was relaxed and he had a smile on his face. 

"I'm sorry," I said, "forgive me."

"You don't need my forgiveness."

"Will you...spank me? Louie, you may need to discipline me. I'm worried. I was cutting myself again...like before...in the shower. Maybe if you disciplined me I wouldn't do that. My dad would spank me when I was bad...when my mom caught me giving head to a boyfriend in my bedroom, she didn't stop me, but she told my dad...I had to take my panties down and my dad spanked my bare butt in the kitchen while my mother and brother watched..."

Louie looked at me and he laughed. "You have me confused with some other husband. I'm not going to hit you." He put his arm over my shoulder and he hugged me. He pulled me onto the bed, then he slid away. "Get some sleep." He knew that I needed my space, and that the king size bed was big enough for it. He turned the lights out and we fell asleep.

Next morning I slept in, a little bit. Louie was entering me from behind, and that's not the worst way to wake up. His long penis went in and out. He would pull his penis completely out, then stick it completely in, over and over, redoing me like the first entry. It was one of his ways of keeping me tight. He was gentle and soft and reassuring. It was his delightful way of saying good morning, saying...Guttentag...saying...Bon Giorno..

"This is the way we start our day, start our day, we start our day, this is the way we start our day, so early in the morning."

I guess he still liked me. He climbed on top to finish off.

"The Menger Hotel, it's one of the last, where guests have to buy their breakfast..." 

As he spoke, Louie pumped his semen in me, he always spilled like a glass of milk when he got on top, and then he rolled over.

"We could eat here and we could talk, or we could have breakfast on the river walk."

It was only a few blocks away. The morning air awakened us, it was good to be out and exercising. We each had our warm ups on, clothes that you can jump in and out of. The air was brisk, and cold air settles down overnight. I had not seen San Antonio's renowned river walk before. Originally, it was a small gorge, a gully. It's something like three miles long, but that must be an exaggerated figure. It was 8:00 A.M. when Louie and I were walking there, seeing the different closed restaurants and shops, checking every window. We walked both sides of that trickle that would be called a creek in Ohio, and regrettably, the only breakfast to be found was back in the McDonald's up above the river walk. That's not to say the river walk was a dud, actually the restaurants along the water, the menus, the prices, the shops and the obvious success of the idea was intriguing. And it was clean. The few people out were workers cleaning up. It reminded me, in a way, of early morning Paris, center city in May, with the workers hosing down the streets, saying 'Bon Jour', reminded me of buying coffee with Louie at 8:00 A.M. in a Paris cafe.

We retreated to our hotel room. I was watching the weather channel while Louie finished his morning SH routines; the forecast was for ninety-three degrees! If I needed any encouragement to be as nude as possible, that was it. Forgetting that I had behaved like a whore, the night before, I played with myself while Louie showered. What to wear.... I decided on a sleeveless thin white top, no bra, white panties, my short ass hugging shorts, and some slip on heels that were quite comfortable. In the sun, or in air conditioning, my top was nearly see through. I wore it to get Louie's attention. When we'd go walking in public, the focus would be back on me. The shower water stopped, and I went into the bathroom.

"What do you think?" I asked, as I modeled my outfit.

"Do you want to show that much?" Louie said, looking at my chest as he dried his body. I directed my eyes to his penis.

"Is it that much?" I put my hands on top of my head and moved, shaking my boobs. "I mean, 93 degrees. I could wear a bikini top instead."

I could see Louie's penis growing as I modeled my outfit for him. "Fantastic," I thought to myself. "It works!" Reaching over, I gently rubbed him.

"I'll be yours, and only yours...."

"Sure you will."

I squatted and ran my tongue on him, he tasted like soap.

"You better...you better, you better, you bet," he said.

Then Louie pulled me up and he kissed me. A quick kiss, I'm not much of a kisser, especially in the morning, and he knew it.

"We need to do the grocery store thing," Louie said as he turned away from me. Whenever we traveled, wherever we traveled, we would shop the grocery stores. In countries where they don't have decent grocery stores, we would shop the open markets. We wouldn't buy many groceries, there was no way to save food or to cook it. What we would buy was simple food, something to eat, and bottles of wine. In Europe, I would buy the little salami, and bread, which we would eat as we drove around the countryside drinking wine.

"The pulse of the population....beats at the grocery store," Louie would say, "what people eat, what they drink, what food is available...an entire culture can be evaluated in a grocery store."

Louie was driving the Mercury in square turns around old San Antonio. Then we found it. A huge grocery store, called 'The Central Market'. When we went in, it was an awakening! Olive oil tastings, bread tastings, wine tastings. A fantastic selection of prepared foods, an area to eat the food, an internet cafe, friendly staff, attractive people to look at...we loved it. It was upscale, a little pretentious, but it was exactly what we were looking for. The wine department was exceptional, and they carried many Texas wines. All of the European varieties and quality levels of wine made in Texas were there. We tasted whatever we wanted to taste, the staff opened the bottles, they were that friendly. Some wines were excellent, some not so. But we found a wine that was a cheap, drinkable and an enjoyable quaff – 'Texas White'. It may have been the least expensive wine that I have found worth drinking in the States.

As Louie stood around, sampling Texas wines, I drifted over to the prepared food section. The foods were kept cold in the refrigerated glass compartments. I felt my nipples harden and I knew that I was...exposing my breasts. The florescent lights went right through the thin material as I leaned over the glass displays. To anyone beside me, I was bare up top. My nipples were out and showing. I teased the attendants, a little, by bending over to see the selections. As I walked around, I bounced. One guy followed me, staring at me, and I welcomed his stares. I showed him as much as I could. 

Well, I thought, there was no way that I was going to see these people ever again...and they had been so friendly...I saw a stock clerk stacking shelves on an otherwise empty aisle...for a while I stood next to him, reaching out, pretending to look for something...just a cute kid in his twenties...

"Do you have any of the..." My voice tailed off as he looked my way. When he looked my way, I lifted my shirt over my bare breasts for him...for just a minute or so...

When I found Louie, he had bought a case of wine. One of the wine guys was boxing the case to carry it to the car. He was a good looking guy, but not as sharp as Louie. They were laughing together like old friends. Louie excels in social circles, even with strangers.

"Did you find anything?" he asked me.

"Not really...though I was able to show my boobs, just for a second, to that kid over there..."

"I don't think that's illegal here in Texas," Louie said, "you can show your boobs all you want...my brother says they have no shirt law for women...I wouldn't want to test it though, we haven't seen any topless women running around."

"So it's ok to take my shirt off?"

"If you want to. Ok by me. I like looking at your tits. Legally, I don't know, I don't have a law license in Texas."

"You won't mind?"

"Not really...no, I won't mind."

Louie headed for the check out lane. I went back to the wine department and found the friendly guy who had sold Louie the case of wine. No one was around but us two. I faked some interest, confronted him and walked toward a corner. Then I lifted my shirt over my breasts, and I took my shirt completely off. Louie had said it was ok to do it. I stood there topless a foot in front of him, holding my thin tee in my hand.

"Tell me," I asked, "is this legal in Texas?"

He stared at my bare chest for a long while as he contemplated the situation. There was no one in any direction.

"I don't think you'll be arrested, at least not here, although I may be fired, but..." 

He reached out and felt me, his hands cupped my breasts and he felt them all around. Pulling me toward him, his mouth found my nipples as he bent to taste me, his hands found my ass. He sucked one breast and he sucked the other. I pressed my crotch into his. There was a small back room there with an open door and he motioned me into it. Wine boxes were stacked everywhere.

"I only have a minute," I said, "my husband is..."

As I spoke, he unfastened my shorts, and I helped him take my shorts and my panties quickly off. Nude, I leaned back against the boxes and I spread my legs wide for him as he studied my body. Then I moved forward. I undid his pants, I drew his penis out and I knelt on the concrete floor of the back room of the grocery store.

"Only for a second," I said, as I licked the head of his cock. I took his hard dick all the way in my mouth, as far as I could, and I licked him all around. Then I stood up. He had his arms on top of my shoulders as I spoke.

"Got to go..."

"Wait," he said, "for another second."

He turned me around and he bent me over some stacked boxes. I spread my legs and I bent my knees forward but...as I felt his penis bumping my butt from behind...I stopped him. I stopped him before he got his dick even close to inside me. I couldn't do it. Then I turned and stood again.

"Second's up," I said.

"Thanks...you have great boobs...a great body..." 

Leaning down, I kissed the head of his penis. I pulled my shirt back over myself. I pulled my shorts up and I hurried. Somehow, I caught up with Louie heading to the car. We put the case of wine in the trunk, and then got in. 

Louie didn't start the car though, he unzipped his pants. He turned his legs my way. I dropped to the floor of the big Mercury as Louie slipped down on the bench seat so that we were not visible. His dick was already erect when he pulled it out for me. I was so hot from my tease, my quick thirty second pretend suck with a stranger. Louie was hot too, he probably knew that I was flashing my tits but he didn't know, couldn't know, the rest of it. He'd think my red knees were from the floor of the car, and the guy didn't come in my mouth. Louie twisted my nipples, roughly, as I bopped my mouth up and down on his long dick. After a few minutes, I jiggled his balls and I was swallowing his sweet semen. I know that I gave Louie better head than that whore Mindy, I know what works on Louie. And that includes me flashing, it gets him excited every time.

We drove back to the hotel. In the room, Louie and I tried to make plans for the afternoon, he wanted my input. This was our vacation. One thing he was against was seeing Lamar and Mindy again.

"Unless you have some desire to watch me fuck Mindy in the ass, don't turn on your cell phone. And Lamar? His wife can watch me punk him too, that's what he really wants anyway. Let's forget about them and decide what we want to do."

Louie was expressing his anger about the way they controlled me, and I understood his frustration. He witnessed it. It's one thing for him to tell me to get on my knees, quite another for a strange woman I just met to do so.

"I have no desire to watch you with Mindy...open one of those Texas Whites while I pee."

Louie uncorked the wine, poured us each a glass, and watched through the bathroom door as I urinated. When I was younger, I couldn't urinate in front of a man. With him it was never a problem. As I wiped myself, yes I wipe myself when I pee, I spoke.

"Louie...listen to me. If you need sex, any type of sex...I'll give it to you...you know that. If you want to tie me up, if you want to spank me, if you want to put your penis in any pore that I have...ok, you can do it, whenever you want...but what I also give you... Louie...is my heart, my future, my soul and my love..."

"Stop worrying about it, Sheryl. I love you. When we were married to other people, when we were each sleeping with another people, I loved you. So you watched Mindy give me a blow job. It's not like our entire relationship was undermined. As you always say, dear, what's a blow job anyway? You claim to have sucked off – your accounts vary – how many guys? All those different things we stick in our mouths, all the crap food, all the shit we eat and breath. Last night, you condoned the sexual activity. Get over it."

After a few glasses of Texas White, we walked over to the Alamo park. The surprising thing was how small the Alamo was. Just a stone front of an old chapel surrounded by concrete walkways filled with tourists. There were a couple of other stone buildings – looked like horse stables to me – and that was it. There was a display of artifacts that some liars claimed were found there. It was all bullshit. That stuff could have been found anywhere, I knew it. There was a rosary under glass that was labeled 'native prayer beads'. The whole thing was an insult, an insult to the Native American peoples who, at the Alamo, successfully repelled an occupational force of European invaders. Yes, they defeated the 'white folks'. Santa Ana was their leader. Those aboriginal natives have lived in their particular part of this planet for over ten thousand years, it was their homeland to keep, and they did. And they still have it now, notwithstanding whatever borders the government has erected. Texas is their native land, the land of the Tejhas tribe, a tribe descended from the Aztecs.

Thirsty after the Alamo, the next round found us in the bar of the Menger Hotel. The history of the place was enough to draw us there, there were print outs and scripts about Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders. Inside, it was all old wood, dark mahogany, and it was two stories tall.

"You know..." Louie said as he looked at the upper level...

"Yes I do know," I said. "This place was a whorehouse. A brothel, with the hotel next door. Where else would Mr. Roosevelt find cowboys?




April in Texas Ch. 04



We ordered a couple of Guiness drafts and climbed the rickety stairs to the upper level. The loft was empty, and I...I climbed on Louie's lap and I straddled him.

"Imagine..." I said. "Imagine that it's one hundred years ago, and I'm a whore working here..."

I put my tongue in Louie's ear and I breathed on his neck.

"You're a boss just off a cattle drive, you owned the herd and you have a bundle of money...I am going to get some of that money out of your pocket and into mine...what would I need to do..."

I started rubbing my crotch against Louie, dry humping him in the loft of the Menger bar. It was uncanny, like our exchange had really happened there in that loft so many years before.

"What you would need...would be a group of very attractive female friends...maybe four, depending on how much money I had...maybe eight...and the finest room the hotel has for the next week...young Mexican girls would change the sheets for me everyday...and scrub my back while they bathed me...yeah...and you would need a beautiful Mexican virgin girl for my pleasure...If you did that, you might get some compensation out of me."

An odd place, the air in the loft had a vibration, a déjà vu feeling.

It was not possible, with what I had on, for us to do a quickie there in the loft. But we kissed, and it was a very romantic moment. I felt forgiven for my behavior the night before.

"Let's go back to our room," I said. "We can 'nap' for a while, if you like, then I'll buy you dinner at one of those Italian restaurants on the river walk. Ok?"

And we actually did nap, nude in our air conditioned room with the ninety degree heat outside. Then we were up – I put on a blue jean skirt and a fresh blouse – and we set off to do the San An passiage. The river walk did have some upscale restaurants, and some sharp clothing shops too. We stopped first and had Heinekens at a place with fancy tiled steps, the exact style that I wanted to use in Louie's house. The sun was sinking and the air was cooling down, the evening was most pleasant.

"If we go down to Corpus tomorrow," I said, "I'll need a new bathing suit. You know that Corpus and Padre Island are going to be full of college kids. And we could use new beach towels too."

Louie sipped his beer. "Do you want to eat first, or shop?"

"Let's see what I can find. That little Italian restaurant, let's wind our way there. If I see something I like, we'll take a look. Ok?"

I found a shop across the bridge, a very small shop with one female attendant. She had that look, the hair, the face - and a body that belonged in a place that sold bikinis. The shop had bathing suits, souvenir tee shirts, sandals, towels, though it wasn't inexpensive. Most of the display items were crammed into a too small space. There was one other couple shopping there – a tall thin blond that had near waste length blond hair, and a guy I guessed to be her boyfriend. He had the typical cowboy hat, boots and jeans style that said Texas. I worked through the bikinis that were on a reduced sale stand. A second glance at the other couple showed me that they were actually quite attractive. She had on a very short shift dress, like a big tee shirt, low heels and a wide metal belt wrapped around her hips. Her legs were long and tan, and she had enough jiggle to broadcast that she didn't have a bra on. They each had lean features, and not an once of fat on either of them.

"Let's see," I said to Louie, "this thin strapped day glow orange bikini? Not me, huh? No thongs, they ride my crack."

"I thought you liked to wear thongs backwards?"

"I have," I said. 

There were dozens of suits to sort through, I was having fun.

"What do you think of this white one, it's has some butt coverage."

"Depends on how much you want to show off," he said.

"This other white one is adjustable. The material slides along the string. I can make it narrow, or I can make it wide. If I want to show off, the strings are easy to untie, and I can take it off without having to pull the bottom down."

"Where do you plan on taking it off?"

"It's not where, it's when, and it's whenever you want me to...or whenever I want to."

"Try it on, see how it looks on you."

There were two tiny dressing rooms in the back of the store. Louie followed me back and I left the door open a little so that he could see in. He sat on a chair and watched me through the door. The full length mirror allowed him to keep his eye on me. Inside the dressing room, there was a small bench to sit on. I stripped off my clothes and fooled with the bikini. Standing up, naked in front of the mirror, I narrowed the material and tied the bottom on. And I narrowed the material on the top too, and tied it on, so that it covered only my nipples. Then I put my heels back on.

"What do you think Louie?" I could see his face in the mirror, happily watching me pose through the open door. Then I loosened the strings and took the suit off. Naked again, I spread the material out, top and bottom, and I tied it back on. What a find. The suit gave me the option of being modest, or indecent. The bikini fit fine, it was cheap, and I liked it. I untied it and put my clothes back on. 

Louie had watched me strip, try the bikini on, take it off, play with the adjustments, try it on again, strip nude again, pose in front of the mirror and then dress again.

"Sheryl, did you see that sign?"

On the wall, set forth in large bold face print, was a warning to customers. 'NOTICE. DUE TO THEFT PROBLEMS, THESE PREMISES ARE MONITORED BY VIDEO CAMERA.' I don't know how I missed it.

But I didn't care. If some geek filmed me nude, whatever. I'll pay cash, no credit card receipt and they won't know who I am. I walked out of the dressing room and to the front of the store to pay. 

As I approached the counter, the sales clerk's attention was drawn to something else. Behind the counter I saw, at a little bit of an angle, two video screens that were monitoring the dressing rooms. The clerk sat there watching the screens, she paid no attention to me. At first I thought that it was part of her job, to look for thieves, I thought she had to watch. Then I saw the full monitor and I thought again. I motioned for Louie to come over so that he could see too. The other couple that were in the shop, the attractive Texas couple, they were in the other dressing room and they were on the video screen. The guy had his jeans down past his knees. Her dress was off, she was nude but for jewelry. He was fucking the tall blond doggy style as she leaned over the bench. The camera showed a clear view of the guy sliding himself in and out of her as she tossed her long blond hair back and forth. We stood there watching them screw, we didn't say a thing. And the guy had some stamina. He lasted at least as long as it took for me to get the clerk's attention and to give her my money. 

The clerk glanced at the video screen, time and again, as she ran the register. She acted like it was no big deal, nothing unusual. Then I remembered how many times, and how many ways, Louie and I had done it in dressing rooms. It is a turn on, especially if you're trying on lingerie. A Victoria's Secret sales gal told me that people fuck in their dressing rooms everyday. This San An bikini sales clerk didn't care, she was enjoying the show. Louie and I could have some fun in such a place, I thought, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to.

We walked, and we found a small restaurant that claimed to feature Southwest Cuisine. On its menu, posted outside, it claimed to be authentic and original. I thought about it. After all, we didn't come to Texas to eat Italian food, although that flavor did seem to be the food of choice on the river walk. I decided that we'd give it a try, I'd buy. Sipping Negro Modelo beers, we settled into an evening meal different from what we could find in Ohio.

Their no beans chili was an excellent starter. Louie chose his extra mild, myself I chose extra spicy. Fresh hard crusted bread was on the table. We followed with house salad tossed with cool creamy cucumber dressing that balanced the heat of my food. My main course was sliced sirloin tips marinated in Habanera pepper sauce, served over a bed of rice, with extra hot sauce on the side. Louie chose a meat goat dish, slow cooked in a mild marinade, the first time we had seen meat goat on a menu in the States. The Habanera sauce was extremely hot, as I hoped it would be, that's why I ordered it. It rivaled 'Backlash' for intense heat. I could feel the endorphin rush going from my mouth to my brain as I ate. My nasal passages opened up, my eyes watered, I sniffled, and I ate more. What a kick! It was like the peak of a high roller coaster on a warm summer day. It was like a bungee chord jump from a bridge into a two hundred foot gorge. I emptied the remaining hot sauce on broken bread, I ate it with my hands, and I devoured every drop. It was the runner's high, when pain becomes enjoyable.

"Don't get too much of that on you, Sheryl. You'll burn your fingers, your mouth, you won't be able to touch me or yourself."

"The question is whether you'll be able to touch me."

"Probably not. You know what happens when you stuff your mouth with those Habaneras. Your ass will be burning for days."

"Fuck you, Louie. This food is great, let me enjoy it. It's what I like. We don't always have to like the same things. I'm paying, save your complaints for the morning light."

The walk back to the hotel was long and silent, the distance between us in the big bed, that night, was as wide as it could be. Two nights at the Menger Hotel; the first night I spent vomiting, the second night....most of it I spent sitting on the toilet with the fan on high.



April in Texas Ch. 05



I knew that it must be morning, although the hotel room was dark. All the curtains were drawn tight. I reached across the bed, no Louie. The clock told me that it was after 9:00. I had apparently slept in, needing the rest after the problems I had the night before. The mirror and the bathroom light showed me that I looked terrible. My face was puffy, my skin blotchy, my hair a mess, and my head throbbed. 

I rummaged, and I found a corkscrew in my purse. Most of the case of wine was still there, I uncorked a bottle. Drawing the balcony curtains open, I saw that it was another beautiful day. My bathrobe was thrown over the chair, I put it on, and I sat out on the balcony, drinking morning white wine, swallowing sinus pills and wondering what the day would bring. And I wondered where Louie was.

It was the first morning of this vacation that Louie hadn't started the day by making love to me. In truth, it was the first morning in many months, excepting when I was on my cycle. The man made love to me everyday. And now, I didn't even know where he was. My plans behind this Texas trip had been to rekindle our romance. What can I do, I thought, to be more romantic today...how can I make this a better holiday for us...how can I bring us...closer together.

The waiting was eating me up inside. What if he's run off? Telling him to 'fuck off', last night, was certainly not a good thing. Plus he was right about the hot peppers and right about my dietary tract. I had compulsively eaten the hot peppers, with my hands, knowing that I was sacrificing physical contact with Louie. Thinking such thoughts, I had another glass of wine and I continued to wait. Then the door opened, he was there and I walked back into the hotel room.

Louie had his bathrobe and slippers on, and he was carrying his workout bag. He tossed his bag in the corner and took out his bathing suit, which was wet.

"Hey, you're still alive," he said. 

"Sort of."

"How's your ass?"

"Burning. Raw."

"I've been up since before 7:00," he said. "I had a good workout in the hotel exercise spa. I needed the room key to get in. There was no one else there, that early, other than one gal attendant, supervising the equipment. They have new treadmills, the ones that have built in heart monitors. I ran a 5K, and I worked my pulse up to 180 and down to 95, back and forth, while I ran. Then I did some weights and some sit ups."

"Maybe I should do that," I said, "sweat the poisons and this hangover out of my system."

"It's too late. We need to get the hurries on."

"So that means we're leaving San Antonio?" I said.

"Yes, we're leaving. And I feel great, ready to move on. I need to jump start you, and I will."

"I'll be fine once this wine settles my stomach. Tell me why you're wearing your bathrobe."

"As I worked out and ran, the attendant talked to me. When I switched machines she followed me around, she had nothing else to do. And she was cute, mid twenties, great figure. A fitness freak, a personal trainer. Every machine I used she coached me on how to get the most out of it. She had on those skin-tight stretch work out clothes that people don't wear underwear with."

"Was she wearing any?"

"I don't think so, I'd say no. I didn't see any lines. Her outfit hugged her like a coat of paint."

I had another sip of wine and I wondered what this was about. Louie went on.

"She was a young gal, a show off and quick to flirt. I spent over an hour there chatting with her. After I finished my exercises, I went over to the hot tub. It looked clean, so I changed into my skinny racing suit, and I relaxed in the steaming water for a while."

"How long were you in the water?"

"Too long. Way over a half hour. And it was hot. When I rose out of the tub – you know how that suit clings when it's wet, it has no lining – I sat on the edge for a minute. The gal brought me towels and continued to flirt with me, glancing down at my near naked body. Walking back to the changing room, I was a bit dizzy. She followed alongside and held my arm, treating me like a patient. Maybe the 5K followed by the hot tub was too much for me. I stepped into the changing room and I took my wet suit off. The door was open. When I turned around, she was still standing there. I didn't mind, it was flattering, as she stared at my nude body. We continued to talk as I faced her and she continued to stare. She had more fresh towels. I had her dry my back and fanny, and I let her dry my front, my chest, my legs, all the way down. My leg muscles had been cramping and, when I told her that, she work her fingers deep into my thighs and calves. It was like I was a racehorse being wiped down after a long workout, she gave me a thorough all over body massage. But then the door buzzer rang and some other guests arrived. She jumped up, shut the door, finished me off, and left. I put my robe on, grabbed my things, and here I am."

That's just great, I thought to myself. Some well built twenty year old in a leotard is getting all the attention of my husband.

"Did she suck your dick?" I said sarcastically.

"No. And don't be insulting. Spontaneous sex is not my thing. And if she had, would I be telling you about her?"

"Well, I'm glad one of us is having a good day."

"While you were passed out," Louie said, "I packed most of our stuff. After I shower, I'll pull the car around. Clean yourself up. I think room check out is 11:00."

So he's quick to wash off her scent, I thought, and he's reminding me that I look as terrible as I feel. Louie turned the shower on.

"Slow down," I said. "there's no rush. Have a glass of white wine with me. This is our vacation. Are we still going to Corpus today?"

Louie walked out of the bathroom nude, and he poured himself a glass of wine. His penis and testicles were hanging long and low. They looked a little red, though his butt and legs did too. Probably from the hot tub, I thought. He took his glass back into the bathroom and spoke to me, in a loud voice, from the shower.

"It's a long drive down there, about 150 miles. The maps show it as pretty simple, we'll stay on Interstate 37. I picked up a paperback, 'Roadside History of Texas', that I was reading through this morning while I pooped. I'll leave the water running for you, get your ass in here."

We changed places in the shower, although Louie didn't touch me. I left the shower door open so that he could watch me, wet, washing myself, and so that we could talk. I was trying to be sexy, and I didn't care if water ran on the hotel room floor.

"Hey...um...I'm sorry for yelling at you last night."

"Right. You scream 'fuck you, Louie' in a crowded restaurant, in front of dozens of people, while you gorge yourself on shit hot peppers. I know you get a buzz off that crap and that you can't stop. What you're sorry about is that you had to sit on the toilet all night, and that you have burn spots on your face and everywhere you've touched yourself. You think I'd let you touch me? Think again."

"It'll wear off. I'll be ok once I wash myself. The soap will..."

"Soap is a detergent, it contains lye."

"Then I'll put lotion on. You'll see. I'll put my fingers in your mouth to show you I'm not on fire."

"Fine. Let's forget it. I can't let your highs and lows ruin another trip. Your apology is accepted. I'm going to pull the car around. When I'm back, please be ready to leave."

I threw on a shift dress, thinking of the blond in the bikini shop. A light tan dress that showed off my legs. And I added a belt to make the dress shorter. Twenty minutes later we were driving past the huge San Antonio basketball arena. Something about these cities in the middle of nowhere is that they are not that big, certainly not big by east coast standards. And once we escaped the gravity of San An, once we settled into the drive to Corpus, south Texas became a deserted desert. I continued nipping at the wine that I had poured in a coffee cup and I read parts of Texas' history as Louie drove.

"It says here that General Sherman served here in the Indian Wars after the Civil War," I said.

"The same William Tecumseh Sherman? The guy from Lancaster, Ohio?

"Yes, the same. My second husband Don played a reenactment of him in a Civil War play. Sherman is quoted in this book as saying that if he had to choose between Hell or Texas, he'd choose Hell."

"I see his comparison. Look out there. There's no water here. Look how desolate south Texas is. People can't live in this environment. And I don't care where they put up the border, we're deep into Mexico. We haven't seen anyone driving who's not Mexican." 

I had Louie's attention, and we were having a conversation. Moving on the seat of the Mercury, I opened my legs, letting Louie see that I had on one of his favorite pairs of panties, the thin red lace ones. I decided we should pretend, do some role playing.

"Let's pretend that we are acting a scene from 'On The Road'," I said. "You know that scene where they're driving out west, and they take all their clothes off, and drive in the nude."

"Yeah, I remember reading that," Louie said, "when I was a kid. Kerouac was fun, back then. So you want to pretend that we're in that book? You want us to take all our clothes off and drive through Texas naked?"

"Sure. The road is nearly empty. I could get some sun too, through the glass."

"I won't be able to strip while driving," he said. But I can get my pants down and my shirt off."

This is working for me, I thought. I pulled the shift dress over my head and I took my panties off. Then I faced Louie, with my back to the window, so that other drivers would only see my head and shoulders. Louie had his shorts down to his knees and his shirt off. He looked over at me and I opened my legs wide for him.

"You have definitely improved the scenery on this drive," he said.

I played along and continued to read aloud.

"It says here that there is buried treasure on Padre Island. Some Spanish princess was shipwrecked there with 350 others. Their 3 ships that went aground were loaded with treasure. Some of those shipwrecked were massacred, the others died of thirst or exposure, only a couple survived. Over time, the shifting dunes covered the wrecked boats, the treasure has never been found."

"Then we have something to look for when we're at the beach," Louie said, "other than people's bodies. But right now, I need to pee. There's a rest stop ahead, get your clothes on."

Louie tugged his pants and shirt back on, and I put my panties and dress back on too. He drove the exit into the rest area. We got out of the car, and the place was trashy. The restroom was a hole to urinate in, it reeked. The other people all spoke Spanish, and there was no water. I couldn't even wash my hands. A large sign was posted next to the building that read 'BEWARE OF SNAKES. STAY OUT OF GRASSY AREAS'. We quickly left. I found some pre moistened wipes in my bag, and I did manage to clean my hands, Louie did too.

Louie started singing.

"Looks like south Texas to me / the signs say beware, there's snakes everywhere / and there's nothing to see."

"What do you think?" Louie said. "Our south Texas theme song?"

Things changed as we approached Corpus. The first noticeable change was the farming. And the farms were using irrigation equipment. The corn, in April, already had tassels on it. Next came the natural gas fields. Huge pumping stations that stored, compressed and pumped oil and natural gas. Housing developments followed. We had arrived in Corpus Christi. At the time, I wondered why we went there. We had no hotel reservations, no real plans other than to lay around on the beach.

On the main road in, there were several new chain motels. We stopped and looked at two or three, viewed the rooms, they were all about the same. We settled on a motel that had just opened, it was very clean, and it had a nice pool and hot tub. Louie began hauling our bags up the stairs to our room, while I took my dress off. There was no one around. I walked out of our room topless and stood at the railing. The trunk was open on the Mercury, he was taking his suit bag out. Then I walked topless to the ice machine a few rooms down, making sure that Louie saw me. When back in our room, I iced down a bottle of Texas White wine. We had plenty of wine left over from the two cases we had purchased.

"Your color is back," Louie said to me as I rested on the bed.

"I feel fine, I told you so."

"Let me judge how you feel."

Louie laid down next to me and wrapped his arms around me. He kissed me softly, he squeezed me tight with his strong arms. Then he stripped off his clothes and pulled me on top of him. I still had my red panties on, that didn't slow him. He was large, erect, ready. He stretched my panties to the side and he slid his penis up and into me. I moved my knees forward and I rode him, up and down, I wiggled my hips, I gyrated and I made sure that my lace panties stroked his dick softly with extra stimulation. We made love that way for ten minutes.

"Sheryl," he said, "you feel so good. But...you know...it's three o'clock and we haven't had a thing to eat all day. Let's find a little deli and get something to nibble on with the wine."

"Hmm...that sounds good. But I could be sucking you...sucking your cock...and I'm fucking you now..."

"Yeah...you could be sucking me...but..."

"I flashed the wine guy at The Central Market yesterday...while you went to pay...you told me I could take my shirt off...so I went back there and I did...for him."

Louie was lifting me up with his hard thrusts. I knew a sex story would make him more aroused.

"The guy really liked my tits...I let him play with them...and...I was so turned on... then...in a back room...my shorts...my panties...came off too...I spread for him..."

"You are ridiculous," Louie said, "but I do need some food."

"Nibble on these," I said, as I pressed my breasts into his face. Then I reached around and I jiggled his balls, gently rubbing them. Soon enough, I could feel his semen squirting up inside me. When I pulled off of him, I hesitated, deliberately waiting until Louie's semen began to drip out of me and into my red panties. Then I swung around and I went down on his penis - I sucked him until he was soft. We each heard Louie's stomach growl.

"I need to eat," he said.

"I can't," I replied. "My stomach still has the day off. Why don't you find yourself something, while I take a swim. There must be a fish take away, my god, there's an ocean here."

"Ok. I'll be back in a few. Sure you don't want something?"

"I'd better wait till the evening," I said.

One difference about a chain motel is the drinking policies. The pool was rimmed with 'no alcohol' signs. Another difference is kids. The pool had five or six half Mexican brats, each one being handed Pepsi by their fat blond mother as they ran around burning the sugar. I was forced to mask my wine in a hotel room glass. Finally Louie returned, figured out my scheme, and brought me out a refill.

"I drove towards the gulf," Louie told me, "but I didn't find much. So I bought a Wendy's, a Dave Thomas junior bacon cheese. I did see some nice restaurants. We're not going to do much frolicking with all these kids around. When you've had enough UV rays, come back in."

A half hour later I returned to the room. Louie was sitting on the edge of the bed watching the cable news channel. I took my suit off and started the shower water.

"Sheryl, come over here."

I sensed some anger in his voice.

"My penis is burning. I shouldn't have let you mouth me. You haven't had anything to eat, you haven't cleansed your mouth of the hot peppers. You know how sensitive I am down there."

I didn't know what to say, what to do, but I had to do something. Nude, I crawled across Louie's lap and positioned myself so that he could spank my fanny. My behavior had been so bad, two nights in a row, I wasn't about to make it three. "Please spank me, Louie. Spank me until my butt is red, until my butt is burning as hot as your penis feels." And then I felt his palm slap my cheek. He didn't spank me hard, and he didn't spank me for long – maybe six slaps. Then he motioned through his legs for me to get off of him.

"It's ok Sheryl. There's no point in abusing you. A man shouldn't complain when his love gives him a blow job. But please do something, maybe eat some bread or salty food, maybe some V8 juice, that will neutralize your mouth. That's all I'm asking of you."

"You don't like spanking me?"

"Not really," he said. "I'm not a control freak and I don't favor hitting a woman. Especially a woman that I love, and I love you. Let's get dressed up a little and find a seafood restaurant. That's the way to please me – seafood and white wine."

Louie joined me in the shower but I stayed clear of washing his balls. We did play a little bit – I let him wash my crotch and finger fuck me. He lathered my fanny where he'd spanked me and he ran his fingers around my sore anus. After we toweled off, I took out a flavored moisturizing lotion that's marketed for sensitive skin. It was advertised as edible, with no harmful effects. We lay together naked on the bed.

"Rub this on my fanny," I told Louie. "Work it around my...opening...I'm still sore there...oh, thank you...that feels so soothing."

After a few minutes I rolled over, and Louie lay on his back. I massaged fingers full of the lotion onto his penis, I could see the cooling sensation cross his face. I knew it felt as good to him as it did to me.

"Reborn?" I said to him.

One surprise about the Corpus seafood restaurants was what they served. I expected gulf coast jumbo shrimp, which they did have, but I had not expected 'clam bars'. We drove by a couple of clam bars and then realized that they may be the best thing going. I was really hungry. We stopped at the most attractive clam bar, it was close to our motel room, and after glancing at the outside menu we decided to stay.

It was a week night in April and the restaurant was about half full. The place was casual, and so were we. Louie had on khakis slacks and a rolled up khakis safari shirt that was halfway buttoned, doing his best Jack Hanna take. I didn't wear much at all. I had on a thin strap light blue silky top and no bra. That was matched with a long, very thin flowered blue wrap around skirt, and white heels. I knew the top was see through and I knew the skirt was too, especially when seen walking through car headlights. And I decided against wearing panties. Louie didn't notice. When seen in a certain light, or walking to and from the car, I was exposing myself and it was my personal thrill.

Inside the restaurant, there were red and white checker table cloths that reminded me of a pizza shop. Other clues popped out – like little breadsticks on each table - and I realized that the restaurant was run by real Italians. An older woman seated us and a younger woman, probably her daughter, was our waitress. These women didn't care that I was showing off, they'd seen it in Italy, I'd seen it there too. In Italy, I've seen women in their sixties dressed as hot as possible, with good taste. When you are with a man, in Italy, anything goes. But if you are by yourself, when dressed as I was, you're treated as a whore. 

On the shelf, as we walked in, there was a display bottle of Verdicchio, the white wine from the Marches. It was the old style bottle that was shaped like a fish, with the cork coming out of the fish mouth. Louie asked for the wine list, and the Verdicchio was not on it. They were offering only grocery store wines.

"Where's the Verdicchio?" Louie asked. The waitress was confused, and Louie pointed out the display bottle.

"That's been there for years. I can't serve you that."

"I don't mind an older white wine, especially European. Please see if you have any other bottles of that wine. I'd far prefer it over anything on this list."




April in Texas Ch. 05



Luck was with us, they found two more bottles that they had forgotten about years ago.

We started with a tray of a dozen raw clams surrounded by a ring of sliced lemon. The Verdicchio, quickly chilled, was perfect for washing them down. It was not oxidized a bit. Next I ordered the grilled jumbo shrimp, which were served sliced in half on their shell. Six was more than I could eat. Louie had the linguini with clam sauce, served with fresh herbs and garlic. I know that he enjoyed it, he ate it all. We finished with the last bottle of the Verdicchio. When we were presented with the bill, they had not charged us for the two bottles of wine. Louie tried to pay, but they wouldn't take the money.

"That wine has been in the basement for years," the older woman said. "We don't know what to charge, so we're giving it to you. Have a good time tonight."

Louie left a twenty five dollar tip for a twenty two dollar meal.

My walk to the car was stimulating. The car headlights passed through my clothes and I felt like I was nude. I stood around, I walked as slowly as possible, letting people see me. When we arrived at our motel, a car was parked, lights on, motor running, in front of the office. I looked inside and saw a good looking guy in a suit checking in, there was no one else in his car. Adlibbing about the hot tub, I told Louie that I was going to check to see if it was open. Louie left me and he walked up the stairs to our room. I hid under the stairs and, when the guy came out, I stepped in front of his headlights. Turning into the lights, I flashed him full frontal. He walked toward the stairs as I slowly climbed them. I stopped for him to see more, I showed him more, but I couldn't stay. Looking up, he watched me climb. I rounded the corner and found Louie waiting with the door open."

Wow, I thought to myself, I almost blew it again. I turned the deadbolt on the motel room door, hoping to settle in for an evening with the man I loved. 

Louie was going through his ties that were in his suit bag.

"Sheryl, come over here," he said. "Put your arms up on this clothes rack." Louie took one of his striped ties and bound my wrists together onto the clothes rack so that I was facing the bed. I was still dressed.

"Open your legs," he said, and I opened them. Louie undressed and he laid across the bed, with his legs spread wide open, and he began masturbating while he stared at me.

"You are so attractive, so hot..."

Ten he came over and he took my skirt off and folded it on a chair.

"No panties tonight?"

"No...I didn't think to wear any."

"Were you able to flash bare pussy on anyone?"

"Yes... mainly the young waitress...some other couples in the restaurant...anyone who saw me walking..."

Louie lifted my blouse up over my breasts and he squeezed my tits. Then he grabbed a handful of ties, which he secured to each corner of the bed. He took his belt off his pants and ran it around my neck. My wrists were still tied together, he undid them, and he took my blouse off.

"Get down on all fours. I'm going to walk you."

With his belt loped like a leash, Louie walked me back and forth across the motel rug. The friction against the rug burned me knees. He told me to start, to stop, to walk, and to sit and kneel. Then he put his dick in my face and told me to lick it. I was obedient.

"Where's that lotion?" he asked.

"It's in the bathroom."

Louie walked me into the bathroom, told me to find the lotion and to hand it to him. I did. Next he walked me back to the bed, letting go of his belt.

"Sheryl, lay on the bed on you stomach."

Using his neckties, Louie bound each of my ankles to the bottom corners of the bed. He tied my wrists back together, and told me to lift up on my elbows. Then I felt him place an airline sleeping mask over my eyes, blindfolding me. I lay that way for a few minutes, listening to him pace back and forth.

Then I heard the slurping sound of the lotion tube and I felt the cool lotion on my crack. He gently massaged my anus and inserted his fingers there. My senses had been narrowed to feeling and to hearing. I heard the slight sound of a condom package being torn open.

"Tell me Sheryl, did you flash that guy in the motel office?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Completely."

"How?"

"After I stood in his headlights...he came over and...I lifted my skirt all the way open for him...I showed him my bare ass...and my boobs...there was no time for more...I broke away and came up here."

Louie was between my legs and I felt his condom covered dick bopping into my butt. The first few strokes were painful, but he put enough lotion on and I quickly relaxed with it. I was able to scoot down the bed and lift up on my knees, and we got a good rhythm going. It was strange. When Louie and I first started dating, while I was married to Don, Louie would ass fuck me every time we made love. He wanted more of me than I gave to my husband. It wasn't hard to get used to, once I learned to relax. But it had been years since he had me that way, and he was having me that way now. The bondage, the game playing – they take a lot more effort than a quick screw and then fall asleep. Louie was putting the effort into our relationship, and I was happy with it.

It didn't take him long to come, long to untie me, long to clean himself up. And it didn't take me long to fall asleep.



April in Texas Ch. 06



Thank god Louie did his SH things again, and that he did it to me. It was so good to feel his cock sliding in and out of me as I awoke. Then he got on top, and deposited a large amount of semen in me. 

When he was through screwing me, I had a long, hot steamy shower, soaping myself thoroughly while Louie shaved in the extra sink outside the bathroom door. His shower, after mine, was almost as long. As I watched myself in the mirror, I wondered why I felt such a need, sometimes a constant need, for sexual attention. Louie gave me all the love, affection and attention any man could possibly give. His efforts were so strong, he tried so hard, and he never let up.

I put my bathrobe on and went to the motel lobby for coffees and juice. The bathrobe covered everything. When I was descending the stairs I noticed a couple on the first floor, under me, looking up my robe. To give them a good view, I stopped, turned around, went back and forth. Then I went on as if nothing happened. As I was pouring the coffees, they came into the lobby. The tie on my robe was fairly loose and the robe opened a few inches. As I turned their way, it opened more. I grabbed a couple of packaged orange juices, and I walked past them. It was my way of starting my day.

Louie was drying off as I reentered our room. I put my new string bikini on and over it I added baggy shorts and a casual blouse, and some sandals. Louie dressed the same way. We drank the juice and coffee from the motel as we finished dressing. Next I gathered some essentials, towels, extra beach sandals, buckets of ice, three bottles of white wine and a couple of wine glasses. I placed all this stuff in a cardboard wine case box, lined the box with plastic bags, covered it all with ice, put a towel over the top and, presto, an instant cooler.

Like a typical tourist, I studied the maps, looking for a town that's name ended in 'beach'. The only such town was 'Mustang Beach', on Mustang Island. The map also indicated, as the internet maps did, that we could drive there from north Padre Island. 

Louie drove, I navigated with the map. The highway architecture, the style and the engineering was impressive - the turn around lanes, the heavy use of concrete, and the service roads along the highway. The Kennedy Causeway was our connection out to Padre. What we found were muddy lagoons – big mud puddles – that separated Corpus from Padre Island. When we attempted to drive north to Mustang Beach, we couldn't drive across the nature reserve, so we turned around. It was only ten minutes or so back to the big bridge over the harbor, and I charted a nice drive on a beautiful morning. But most of the scenery were military complexes, places where our government made land mines. We drove US 181 over the harbor, went east to Aransas Pass, then took the free ferry out to Mustang Island, where we turned south and pointed toward Mustang Beach.

"Woops," I said. The town of Mustang Beach was not on the gulf, it was on the lagoon. I didn't come down from Ohio to swim in a lagoon. We passed that place by. There were signs for gulf coast beaches, and we followed them. Soon, a sign announced 'Gulf Coast Beach Access Road', and we turned toward the gulf. Eventually we came to a large beach area, with parking, life guards, hundreds of people, and police. 

Texas beaches are different from any other gulf coast beaches that I have seen. First – and someone told me this when I asked about the signs – the beaches are considered roads. They are also public parks, and free for all. And people drive their vehicles on the beaches. What a contrast to the parking lots and meters of Naples, Florida. 

At the big beach we found, and it stretched for miles in either direction, that American English was a foreign language. Mexicans, by the hundreds, had flocked there. They backed their pick ups and vans as close to the water as allowed, and they made 'camps', like circling the wagons. Their towels and their bathing suits were hanging like laundry. It may well have been that these families were sleeping there, maybe even living there, I didn't ask. They all had ice coolers stuffed with cheap beer, shit food, and colas for the multitudes of fat children that were running everyplace. While that lifestyle, and those people, didn't appeal to me, it was clear that they were happy. The men would sit, smoke and drink beer, the women would parent, and the children played.

I had my new bikini on under my blouse and shorts, Louie had his Speedo under his shorts too. Unbuttoning my blouse, I widened the coverage on my bikini top to as wide as possible. That's as far as I peeled. Louie took his shirt off, and his sandals, and we walked along the shore. 

Without question, the shore was the trashiest, most filthy beach I have been on in my life. Seaweed was growing everywhere. There was no white sand. The seaweed caught every piece of garbage the waves delivered, every leftover piece caught when the tide came out and in. It appeared that every Styrofoam cup and every cigarette pack ever tossed west of the Florida Keys ended up on that beach. The water stunk of sewage, and there was little space for even the children to swim. Nevertheless, I was in awe, it was that strange. It showed me the direction of the current, showed me why the Florida side of the Caribbean was so white and clean. Louie and I didn't get out of our shorts, we couldn't lay out there. But we did walk around for an hour, and an amazing hour it was. There was one attractive woman of European descent, which Texans call 'Anglo' whether of English descent or not. That's it, one gal, who was sunbathing on a fold out lounge chair. She certainly had courage. We left that place.

I knew we had to drive back to the ferry and through Aransas Pass. There was a quaint little village near the north tip of Mustang Island. We found a take away shrimp shack open, and I bought a bag of huge batter dipped jumbos. Turns out the harbor there houses the largest shrimp fishing fleet of the entire Gulf of Mexico. The ferry ride, both ways, was fun. My hair blew in the wind and I saw dolphins swimming along side the boat. Once back on the road, I opened the white wine, and we munched on the delicious shrimp. 

There must be more to the Padre Island stories, I thought, so we headed back that way. We went across the 181 bridge, out the Kennedy Causeway, but this time drove south on Padre Island on Park Road 22. Once past the main intersections, the place was desolate, there were no services, no condos up for sale, no gas stations. As we went miles further south, even the road signs warned us not to continue. Down a side road, we caught a glimpse of the gulf, and we saw several other parked cars. Assuming there was a beach, Louie parked the Mercury, we grabbed our towels, and we went looking for it.

What we found was a completely different setting. The seaside was not nearly as trashy as the other Texas beach, and far more isolated. There were hideaway places to sunbathe among the dunes, very private spots cut out in the grass overlooking the water. The tall grass bent with the blowing wind, and I hoped that the wind would keep the bugs away. Maybe forty other people were scattered there, maybe more, all 'Anglos', as the Texans say. Those that I saw looked young, like college age kids, young and cute. Soon we found a spot out of view of the other sunbathers. I prepared our space, I laid out the beach towels and got out of my shorts while Louie did the same.

I narrowed the width of my bikini top, and bottom, to as narrow as possible. It was no more than three strips of fabric that covered my nipples and my crotch. I need my UV rays, it helps raise my seratonin levels. It was around 2:00 in the afternoon, and it was hot. After laying out for a half hour, Louie left to go for 'a walk', which meant to see the other women sunbathing and to show off. As he was walking away, a pair of young girls walked by, early twenties I guessed. Minutes later they walked by again, carrying their cooler and chairs, wearing tee shirts, ball caps and shorts. I pretended not to notice them.

"Do you mind if we lay out here?" one asked me. She was a pretty faced blond, tall, thin, and being polite so as not to invade our privacy. Louie was gone but obviously our space was set up for two.

"Please do. I could use some company."

Her friend was also attractive, but in a different way. She also had a toned and trim figure, but she had short brown hair and long earrings. My first take was that at least one of them was gay. They each had the same tattoo – a string of barbed wire - around their right arms. After spreading their towels out, they unfolded their beach seats, and sat down. One opened their cooler, it was full of cheap long neck beers. The pretty blond offered me one, and I accepted.

"I'm Tina, and this is Gail," the blond said.

"Hi, I'm Sheryl. My husband's Louie, when he gets back."

I leaned up on an elbow and we three talked for a while. Then, in harmony, each of them undressed as I watched. First Tina stood up and took her tee shirt off, then she took her shorts off. Facing me, Gail did the same. To my surprise, they had no bathing suits underneath their clothes. They sat back in their beach chairs, topless, wearing just tiny pairs of panties. 

My eyes were drawn instantly to Tina's body. She had a thin shape, long legs, her breasts were full, real and high, her fanny round and firm. Her long blond hair hung across her nipples. Gail was a pleasant view too. Her boobs were smaller then Tina's, though they matched her figure well. Obviously neither had ever had a child. They seemed to enjoy showing off for me.

"So it's ok to go topless in Texas?" I asked.

"What do you mean, ok...ok with what? Out here, on Padre?" Gail said back to me. "It's ok for your husband, isn't it?"

"You can do whatever you want out here," Tina said, as she sucked a long draw on her beer. "There are no cops, no beach patrols, no kids running around, no families. We've come down from Austin with simple plans - drink beer, smoke pot and sit here naked. Who knows what will happen. Tomorrow we'll head further south, where students from all over come to party this time of the season."

Gail leaned over and kissed Tina, a long deep kiss, as an announcement to me of their relationship. I watched as the kiss led to more physical contact, boob rubbing and embracing. Then they each stood up and slipped their panties off. Both Tina and Gail were shaved bald. At the top of her thighs, Tina had a beautiful wide crotch that I couldn't keep my eyes off of. Laying down on their towels, they stretched out naked on their backs with their legs spread open. As I studied them, I felt out of place in my bikini, no matter how small it was. I wanted to strip too. Then Gail began to finger fuck Tina. I realized that I was watching two beautiful twenty year old women, nude next to me, putting on a show for me and making love.

"Gail," Tina said, "you're embarrassing Sheryl. She doesn't want to watch us fuck."

"Why think that?" Gail responded. "It's not like were an ugly couple. How about it, Sheryl, do you care if we make love?"

"I...don't know what to say...do whatever you want to do."

"Would you enjoy watching us?" Tina asked.

"Well...I don't know...well...sure...I...would like to watch you...to see what you do...and how you do it."

"Sheryl," Gail said, "bring your towel over here with us, get out of that bikini, and give it to me. We'll have some fun." 

I stood up, grabbed my towel and placed it down next to theirs. Still standing, I took a long sip on the cold beer, and I looked at the two naked gals waiting for me. Then I 'threw caution to the wind' and undid the bows on my bikini top and bottom.

Gail told Tina to lie on her back. She spread her legs open and Gail went down on her, the same way I would go down on a man. I watched as she ran her tongue down Tina's waist, licked her belly button and then slipped her tongue into Tina's folds. With the back of her tongue, Gail gave Tina wide slow licks across her clitoris. I stood over them watching, as the gulf wind blew my untied bikini away from my body. My bottom had fallen down and my bikini top was flapping around my neck like an unfastened sail. I couldn't hold back and I started to touch myself as I watched. 

Gail looked up and over at me, she reached for my hand, and she tugged me down with her. Then Gail moved away, so that I was between Tina's spread legs. I hesitated. But when I got close, there was no turning back. Tina's long legs and shaved puss, open for my enjoyment, I was drawn like magnet to steel. I found Tina's clitoris with the tip of my tongue. As I teased her, nibbling her, sucking her delicious self, slipping my fingers in and out of her, Gail began licking me. She'd moved onto her back and pulled my crotch to her face, her stiff tongue was deep in my vagina. Tina then lifted my head, pulled my bikini top off, and moved my face to Gail's crotch. I worked my tongue around Gail's lips and deep into her vagina. She was so sweet, I was frenzied with desire, I sixty-nined with Gail as her girlfriend Tina watched me.

"Lick her clean, Sheryl," Tina said, as she leaned forward and started slapping my ass. "Get your tongue in her, clean her pussy for me." After a few minutes, Tina grabbed me by my hair and moved me back to her puss. "Now tongue me, you slut." She grabbed my hair again and pulled my head around. Back and forth I went, every few minutes, I was eating out Tina, I was eating out Gail, then Tina again, then Gail again. They took turns spanking me and continued to degrade me as I gave them my body to use. Tina pulled my hair, she slapped my face, and she pinched and twisted my boobs.

"You should be thankful for this, Sheryl," Tina said as she ground her pelvis into my face, "you old whore. Where's your gratitude?"

I pulled my face up. "Sure...thanks...I did want to fuck you, not just watch...your pussy is so young and sweet...and Gail's is too...thank you for showing me your young, gorgeous, beautiful bodies....for letting me eat your young puss...and for letting me eat Gail's young pussy too...I'll do anything you want, anything..." 

Tina pushed my head further down and rolled her legs up and open. "My ass, you old cunt, tongue my ass."

She tasted like bitter chocolate. As my tongue went in and out of her anus, Tina shook all over. She climaxed, with my tongue in her anus as far in as I could get it in. She grabbed me by my hair and moved my face back to Gail's crotch.

"Suck her pussy, you middle age tramp," Tina went on, "an old fuck like you, you dream about having two young gals like us to lick. Imagine the stories you'll be telling to your husband about this, telling him it was a fantasy come true."

Gail then quivered into a massive orgasm. I licked her until she stopped shaking. Tina grabbed my hair again.

"Get on your knees doggie style."

Each gal stood over me as I squatted on all fours. Gail grabbed a fresh cold long neck beer bottle while Tina bent down on her knees in front of me. "Suck my tits, and be gentle" Tina said. As I licked Tina's nipples, Gail slowly inserted the bottle into my vagina. Then she swung her legs over me and sat on me backwards. She fucked me, deep and hard, with the cold beer bottle. As she did, she rubbed her puss against my hips, riding me like a horse. It felt like the entire bottle was going inside of me. I could feel the cold metal cap hit the top of my canal, I could feel the cap's edges scrape me as Gail worked it in and out. At that instant, I climaxed into one of the biggest orgasms of my life. Tina saw that I was coming and she stood back up.

"She's actually pretty good looking," Gail said, as she continued pumping me with the beer bottle. "Nice boobs, thin body, nice ass. And fun to fuck. She hasn't given us any fight, the horny slut must have really wanted to fuck us."

"Must have. We've only been here thirty minutes."

"Yeah, but let's get out of here. Her husband's going to be pissed when he comes back and finds her pussy so sore."

Gail pulled the beer bottle out of me while Tina quickly dressed. Just as quickly, Gail was dressed, they were folding their chairs, grabbing their stuff and leaving. Gail opened the beer and handed it to me.

"This one's for you, Sheryl. And thanks for the bikini. That one size fits all style will look great on either one of us. See you."

I moved my towel back to where it first was, next to Louie's. Laying on my stomach, I took another big towel and draped it across my nude body like a blanket. Then I closed my eyes and let the hops in the beer lead me into a ocean side nap. The sound of waves has always hypnotized me. I was coming down from the instant gratification of a spontaneous chance encounter and, like Tina said, it had been a fantasy come true. In fact, I was spent, and tired. Not really caring where Louie went, I dosed off. I don't know how long I slept, but I did sleep there on the dunes at the beach.

Louie shook my shoulder, I was wrapped in the big towel. He was carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses, he must have went back to the car.

"Wake up, sleepy head Sheryl."

"Where have you been? It's been hours since you left."

"It hasn't been hours, it hasn't been even one hour. I walked up and down the beach, I met some people, I went back to the car and I brought you something to drink."

"Oh. The salt air made me drowsy and I dozed off."

Louie opened the wine, which was still chilled. My cooler worked. He poured me a glass and handed it to me. As I sat up, Louie saw that I was nude under the towel. "What happened to your new bikini?"

"There were some other girls sunbathing here nude, so I took my suit off too. Didn't want to appear the prude. I traded it to them for some beers. The suit was cheap enough. It's no great loss."

Louie took a sip on his wine and settled on his towel. "It's your money. So you sell your clothes for alcohol?"

"If they can tan naked, so can I. I didn't need the suit anymore."

"Great," Louie said, as he took his sandals and Speedo off. "I'll sunbathe nude until I burn, which, under this sun will be soon enough. If I fall asleep, cover me up, ok?"

"You won't," I said, as I let my arm fall across his chest. "We should go back to the motel in an hour or so, clean the sand off, and decide what we are going to do. My vote is to be lazy the rest of this day, hit the pool, maybe eat a pizza, and tomorrow get up early and drive to Fredericksburg. It's only 230 miles, 75 past San An."

"I'll second that," he said. The sun crossed over the dunes and brought some shade to our area. Louie and I napped after the wine was gone, and then we left the beach for our motel.



April in Texas Ch. 07



"Ouch!" I said, as I was laying in bed in the Corpus Christi motel. Louie was feeling my boobs from behind and it hurt. In the early morning light, he was his typical self, hard and ready to fuck me. 

"Please don't touch my boobs. They're really sore. I must be getting ready to start."

"Shouldn't be so soon. It's the middle of your moon."

"Then what do you call this?" I said, pointing to the spots of blood on the sheets where I had slept. I got out of bed, found a tampon, went into the bathroom and slipped the tampon in. Myself, I knew why I was bleeding, and I knew that I had probably already stopped bleeding. It was not my period. That damned Tina, and Gail with the jagged cap on the beer bottle, she had scraped me and cut me. And my tits were sore from their smacking and twisting. In the mirror, I could see small bruises on my boobs and bigger bruises from their smacks on my ass. Couldn't tell Louie about all that, maybe someday, but not now.

Louie called out to me in the bath. "When on your period, you know that it's time for practicing your technique, so that you'll deliver more."

At least he was in a good mood.

"Very funny. Right, I know, it's my time for perfecting blowjobs. I just don't feel like it now, ok? My head is throbbing. Maybe later before we leave if you want it that bad." 

I swallowed aspirin, took a quick shower, and wrapped myself in a towel. Then I jumped into whatever clothes I could find that would cover my bruises – and Louie was still in bed.

"Come on, man person, get up. We're looking at a five hour drive today, minimal. We need to get going. It's past 8:00 already."

"Ok, I'm on my way."

"Do you want me to suck you off now, or can you wait?"

"Don't be crude to this dude."

"I am offering..."

"I can wait on head, and shaving too, but there are things that I need to do."

I'd had enough of his nonsense. "Take your shit in the bathroom, ok? I'll get us coffees, maybe even a doughnut. Please get going."

I milled around the motel lobby, drinking coffee and reading the USA Today newspaper, for a long enough time for Louie to complete his cleanup. When I returned with his coffee, he'd already loaded the car and was ready to go.

We may have set out to make the drive from Corpus to Fredericksburg in one day, but things happened differently than planned. Approaching San Antonio on Interstate 37, my cell phone rang. It was Lamar.

"Sheryl, where have you been?"

I held the phone down for a second. "It's Lamar," I said to Louie, who shook his head as I said so. 

"We've been down to Corpus. I shut my cell phone off, till now. Why are you calling?"

"Sheryl, I've – we've – arranged for a meeting in my office this afternoon, a teleconference from Nashville about using the Texas school pool as a model for the same thing in Ohio. It was your boss John's idea. Those Scottish guys from Lloyd's are in Nashville this week. They may underwrite it, if we can come up with some projected numbers. I've been calling you for two days."

"Hold on," I said, and I pressed the phone against my stomach. Then I spoke to Louie. "He wants me in his office this afternoon for a conference call with the Nashville home office."

"Tell Lamar he can suck my dick. No, don't say that, he might say yes. A conference call...ask him how many phone lines he has."

"Lamar...why can't you patch me through on speaker phone? Those Nashville guys won't know if I'm in your office or not. I don't see a reason to be physically present for a conference call."

"Because they want a video conference," Lamar said. "I've bought all this video stuff, which the company paid for, and they expect me to use it."

"Listen Lamar. Video conference or not, I don't know shit about numbers in your Texas school pool. There is simply no information that I can provide, and these are vacation days for me. Nashville knows that."

"Sheryl, your boss John wants a video conference, he wants to impress the Brits, he wants a video of you."

"He wants what?"

"A video. John wants a video of you. It has something to do with the promo. I'm sure that you don't want to disappoint him, do you? Lucky for us, you are back here in the area, and it's not that much of a diversion. My office is only a few minutes from the I-37 interchange. Have Louie drop you off, we'll have the teleconference, it will be short. Why not do it? Tell Louie to go shopping for a while, he'll be happy. Or tell him to buy himself lunch, there's a fine little Italian restaurant a block away. And wear something that shows you off."

"And you're telling me what to wear?"

"Ok. I'm sorry. But you will want to look good, if you know that it's being videoed and that it's being saved."

"Lamar, I'm pissed. If this takes more than twenty minutes, I may strangle you. I'll be there at ten till one, I'll change, we'll do the conference, and then I'm leaving for hill country. Goodbye."

The fact is that Louie didn't mind stopping in San Antonio again. Didn't mind at all. When we drove long distances, we always stopped every couple of hours, it breaks up the monotony of freeway driving. I didn't know it then, but I know now that Louie didn't mind getting away from me. It had been years since he expressed his frustrations about my devotion to my job, he internalized it, and it must have been tough to tolerate. 

He dropped me off at Lamar's office, which was a tiny two-room suite in an old office building, and Louie didn't even blink when I took my clothes bag in with me. I directed him to the restaurant, Louie said he'd be back in an hour, and he drove away.

"Thanks for coming," Lamar said as I walked into his office. No secretary, no associates, only Lamar.

"What's in the bag?"

"Obviously my clothes. I need to change."

"Relax. We have some time. I've opened an Italian Pinot Grigio for you." Lamar had one of those little brown office refrigerators, he pulled the wine out and poured me a glass.

"You can change in the bathroom down the hall. There's no one else here today, so take your time."

And I did take a few minutes, savoring the wine, which was from a vineyard near Udine, in the Friuli region of Italy. The wine was crisp, and pleasant. Then I made my way to the bathroom, and I undressed with the door locked. The bath was big - a couple of stalls, a man's urinal, sinks, room to move around. In a minute I was nude, rummaging through my bag, deciding what to wear for the video teleconference. No business 'look' for me, fuck that, I was on vacation and traveling. Next I did a fun thing, something I'll do when I have the chance. Facing backwards, I peed in the men's urinal. I watched myself in the mirror as the golden stream shot down, and I recalled the memories of my second husband urinating on me. What a different life I led then.

So John the boss wants the Scots to see me, so what. I'd met those guys before. Two brothers, Sean and Ralph, who were a couple of flirts. Each was about 6'5, arguably the tallest Scots in history, easily the tallest I'd ever seen. One thing I didn't need anymore was that tampon. I sat back naked on the toilet seat and withdrew it from my vagina, no blood. Relieved, I flushed it for the San Antonio sewer.

Glancing, and then staring at the mirror, I saw that my boobs were burned from the Padre sun. I had sunburned tits, and as I touched them I realized that the sunburn had as much to do with the soreness as did my beach encounter. In my bag there was a tube of sunburn cream. Standing before the mirror, I slowly massaged the cream onto my breasts. Immediately I felt relief. Then I rubbed more cream on my crotch and on my fanny, onto those sunburned areas of my body that had not been so exposed since Europe. The cream would help the fanny bruises too, I thought, and I rubbed it on each cheek with both hands as I arched my back before the mirror.

Enough, already, I thought, I need to get dressed. I pulled on a clean pair of sheer white lace panties, a short blue jean skirt, and an armless shirt I bought at McGregor Vineyards in the Finger Lakes of New York. The top hung loose and had big loops on each side, like a man's basketball jersey, exposing most of my boobs. My face was a little sun swollen too, but I didn't think anyone would notice it. I covered up with extra eyeliner. My high heal sandals completed my 'on vacation' look, and I walked back to Lamar's office.

As I walked in, I saw that Lamar was fiddling with his video link. He activated a camera on a shelf, and directed me to sit in a soft chair that faced the camera and that showed all of my legs. Lamar then stood behind me to get himself in the picture and to see my boobs.

"Hello Sheryl." I heard the voice of my boss John through the computer speakers. "We've been chatting with Lamar for the past fifteen minutes, he says that you and Louie love it in Texas. Lamar's video link seems to be worth the money."

"John, what Lamar has shown me is how successful the school pool has been here in Texas. The ratio of premiums taken in against claims paid is in the top categories. The school pool is almost pure profit. It's as if none of these Mexicans file claims against their schools, other than the low end broken arm in the playground sort of stuff."

I was flat out lying. Lamar hadn't shown me anything.

"Can you project the same thing for Ohio?" John asked me.

"To a certain extent, we can say that. But we can also say that there will be more claims against schools in Ohio, it's a fact that more claims have always been filed in Ohio. With that precedent, we can charge much higher premiums. We need to examine who the competition is, what we have to beat, and complete a much better package of coverage before we start soliciting. There will be more to it, a lot more, than simply duplicating the Texas model." 

"And stay clear of the Catholic schools," one of the Scot brothers chimed in. "We don't want to be paying for their gay priests." 

We all laughed. 

"And let me say that you are looking very sharp today, Sheryl, and thinking sharp too. Brains plus beauty, we appreciate that. Lamar has sent us some of the photos from your dinner outing, I expect him to send more. The brokerage will package this idea, as you say, and they will prepare a color portfolio offering with a DVD. You will be featured, that's why we need more digital footage of you. And digital photos of the Ohio schools, complete with children and buildings. We are considering using your voice in the narrative too. With someone like you drawing the attention, you look very proper English you know, I think we'll do well with it in London."

"Thank you very much" I said, beaming a bit on the thought that I would be featured. But I wondered what photos Lamar had sent. I didn't remember Lamar taking any photos other than close ups of me having sex.

"If this works out, Sheryl," the Scot brother Sean said, "I expect to see you in London for our annual February conference. Perhaps we'll have time to socialize, maybe take in an Eric Clapton concert. Does that interest you?"

"Everything except the Eric Clapton concert," I said. "Mr. Clapton lives in Columbus, we've seen him around town with his fat child bride Kathy McInery protecting him. If I'm in England, I don't need to see a guy who lives in Ohio."

We all had another laugh.

"Lamar, what do you have there, three cameras?" John asked. "Where's the other one?"

"It's on the front of the building," Lamar said. "That way, I can see everything that happens outside my door – out front, in the hallway, in the bathroom – without having to open the door. It's a great system. Has the feed been coming through all right?" 

"We all agree that the picture has been greatly improved since Sheryl first sipped her wine," the other brother Ralph added.

I could hear the humor in his voice, and I detected something underhanded. Yes, I was a bit slow in figuring things out. True to form, I guessed that Lamar had probably sent them the video feed of my time spent in the bathroom. But then again, maybe he didn't. I decided to play dumb. Whatever, they all apparently liked looking at me.

"John," I said, "Louie has made reservations at a really expensive bed and breakfast in Fredericksburg for tonight. We absolutely have to get going, it's mostly back road driving to get there from San Antonio. I'll touch base with you in a couple of days. I know that there's not much in Nashville other than fried catfish, potato puffs and pink wine, but I am sure that you can find someway to entertain those brothers while they're here. Take care of them for me. Bye." 

"Gentlemen, we'll speak later," Lamar said, and with that he closed down the video link. I went to the little refrigerator and poured myself another glass of wine. Looking at Lamar, I wondered what the hell was going on.

"Sheryl, you were great, just great. How did you know about the premiums to claims paid ratios? You may have found an underwriter for my program, and my head is spinning with success. The market for school insurance is wide open, after shit like Columbine and the teacher sex scandals. We may go national with this. I need to copyright my plan, maybe even a design patent..."

"Settle down, Lamar. All I did was sling typical insurance bullshit. But I have kept track of the claims paid here in Texas, and that's without input from you. You may not realize it, but I do my job well."

The clock told me it was 2:15. I had been there nearly an hour and a half. Louie was nowhere to be found. We didn't really have any reservations in Fredericksburg, and I hate being stuck after 6:00 in some strange place without a hotel room. Louie knew that. We'd had disasters in France when we were stranded along the Atlantic coast, west of Bordeaux, with no hotel. Where was he?

It was thirty more minutes before he returned. By that time, I'd finished the Pinot Grigio, and I was drinking celebration Champaign with Lamar. And we were celebrating. Lifting my shirt, I told Lamar that I would show him my sunburn if he would show me his penis. We had another laugh. He kept his pants on, I showed him anyway. 

"Do you want to see the video?" Lamar asked.

"What video?"

"Strip for me now and I'll show you."

Stripping wasn't a hard thing to do, I already had my top off. Lamar waited. Once I was nude, Lamar pushed some buttons and the screen came back on. He backed the DVD and there I was, sitting in the soft chair, talking insurance with my boss John and with the Scots. I hadn't realized at the time that my legs were spread and that the video showed a constant shot of my nearly bare crotch. 

Lamar was exerting control over me, again. He backed up the video further and I was standing nude in the bathroom, rubbing cream on my sunburn.

"Don't worry," he said. "I didn't send this segment to Nashville. You have to admit it's hot though. You're one of the few older women who look better nude than when you're dressed. If I put these all together, plus what I'm shooting now, and plug in the Colorado Springs' scenes, I have nearly an hour of you in action."

"You're filming now?"

Lamar flipped another switch and a live shot of me nude in his office showed on the screen.

Trapped again. I put my clothes back on and didn't say another thing. Once I saw the Mercury pull up, I grabbed my bag and left Lamar's office.

"Where have you been?" I asked Louie, as I sat back in the Mercury's comfortable front seat.

"Nowhere really. I found a mall and wandered around. The mall had a half price discount bookstore next to a wine shop that had free tastings. Nice crowd of attractive San Antonio housewives, drinking themselves silly. The gals were very friendly. It was an easy place for me to relax and to kill time. How did the teleconference go?"

We were easing onto the interstate, heading northwest from San An.

"It went very well...I did it...my best bullshit, though I sense that Lamar is using me as his wingman to sell his ideas to management. But let's forget about that hon. Sometimes I wish I could forget about my job, for even a few days, the way you do your law practice. Now we are in a rush to get to someplace where we've never been, and I'm wired out."

"Why? Did I do something?"

"No, although you could zip your pants up, and you reek of perfume. It's Lamar. I had a free moment in his office and his email was on. I went to 'sent mail'. Lamar has sent some of the photos he took of us at his house to the Nashville office for use in a sales promo."

As I heard the words come out of my mouth, I knew that I was lying to Louie again. I hadn't opened any of Lamar's emails, what I had done was model for a nude video scene. And I kept on with my dishonest variation of what happened.

"The pictures I opened had been cropped and resized so that the sexual activity was removed, but it was obvious that I was giving head. I don't know, maybe it wasn't so obvious, maybe it's because I knew what the whole photo showed. It's a whirlwind. I'm sick of it." 

"I'm not bothered by it," Louie said. "Strangers took photos of you topless at Grada, in Italy, you just laughed and posed for them when they did. And remember those other times in Europe when we sunbathed nude?"

"Of course I remember."

"And that Turk who followed us around in Swaubeeland? You fucked me and sucked me while he watched from the bushes. Believe me, soon enough, people will loose interest in your body. The world's full of boob job bimbos, I am surprised your bosses are not fishing for a twenty year old to picture in a sales promo. And I have my doubts, strong doubts, about Lamar sharing any photos that might be the basis for a sexual harassment claim. He's a creep, but he's not that dumb."

Settling back into the drive, I dug out my maps for Texas hill country and my internet downloads about the wineries. Our route to Fredericksburg was simple enough – only one exit from I-37, onto route 87 which went directly into Fredericksburg. That was a two-lane road, lined sporadically with single-family homes and small farms. Some were singlewide house trailers, others were new built country estates, but they all had one thing in common – their driveway gates. Virtually every property had an elaborate driveway entrance gate, some were made of stone built in an arch, others brick, we saw wrought iron gates, we saw so many properties where they put more money in their entrance gate than they did in their house. The phrase 'Texas gate' still remains in my everyday vocabulary, it was a geographical oddity.

The country did rise, elevation wise. As we drove up US 87, Louie pointed out the hills with limestone outcroppings that were visible from the road.

"Sheryl, look at that stone base. It reminds me of the limestone we saw in Burgundy, south of Dijon."

"Don't jump to any quick comparisons. We haven't seen a vineyard yet. There are reports on the net that all the vineyards here suffer from Pierce's Disease, and that much of the grapes used in their wine are imported, even from California."

"Really. What's Jancis say?"

"Her review, and I don't think she wrote it, recites that most of the Texas grapes are not grown here. She has little praise for Texas Hill Country. Eighty percent of the Texas grapes are grown in other parts of the state, although this is the only region known for estate bottled wines and fine European vinifera. I printed some other articles off the net, one's pretty detailed by a Brit named Peter May, it was linked to Texas Wine Lovers dot com. I'll find it for your morning read."

"We'll judge for ourselves, if we ever find a winery. For now, it's after 5:00, we need to find a hotel."

Then we were there, in 'downtown' Fredericksburg, a tiny town that had about two main roads, a place where all the buildings lined one street, we'd call it a postage stamp back east. But we spotted a fine old Inn, maybe the town's best, and Louie sent me inside to ask about accommodations. A minute later, I was back outside.




April in Texas Ch. 07



"No room at the Inn," I said.

"You know they refused Jesus too..."

"And you're not him."

"Louie, it's worse than that. This is Easter week, and apparently it is special in Fredericksburg. The gal inside said we won't find a room for miles. Old timers come back here to commemorate the lighting of the fires, they light bonfires on the hills. It's a tradition that has been followed since the first German settlers here made peace with the Comanche Indians." 

"Are we fucked, or what?" Louie said. "We didn't see anyplace on 87, coming in...what's the map say?"

"They do show a chain motel that's new on Route 16. It looks easy enough to find, let's head that way."



April in Texas Ch. 08



Leaving Fredericksburg, and not that far out Route 16, we found a new chain motel that was nearly empty. It was so new that it probably wasn't taking reservations yet. We stopped, and I went inside. The motel desk was operated by a Pakistani family, a husband and wife team with a small child behind the counter. The woman was quietly mysterious, with dark deep set eyes on an attractive face, and a thin body buried beneath traditional Pakistani clothes. I asked to see the room while Louie parked the Mercury. It wasn't as if we had a choice, it was late afternoon, but I always want to cameo a room. The husband directed his wife to do the showing, and when she bent over for the pass key she surprised me with a view of her dark breasts and nipples.

We walked past a small outdoor pool that was sparkling clean, and from the lack of cars parked anywhere, my hunch was that we had the place to ourselves. Our hostess didn't say a word to me, and she opened the door of the very first motel room next to the pool. The room was so new that it had a fresh carpet odor. I walked to the bath and flicked on the lights and fan, I felt the mattress, flashing as much of my own boobs as I could discretely do, and trying to see if she was paying attention.

"The room is fine," I said, "but we will need more towels."

"More towels?"

"Yes, I am going to take a swim. Please bring me extra towels."

Then I motioned to Louie that we were taking the room and waited as he brought some baggage in. "Let's take a short swim before we loose the sun, we've had a long day" I said to him. "Where's my bag with my swimsuits?"

The door was standing open while Louie went back and forth with travel bags. Each of my bathing suits were buried with my clothes. With the bag open on the motel bed, I undressed and fished through it looking for my green thong bikini. Louie was trying to chill some white wine in cold sink water.

Suddenly there was a tap on the open door. I turned toward it. Standing there was a different Pakistani woman with a stack of large white towels in her arms. My guess was that this woman was another relative, maybe a sister or a cousin, she looked about twenty. She had the same dark eyes, an attractive face and thin figure, but she was wearing the motel chain's uniform of a logo pull over shirt and khakis. I faced her, nude, and pretended to be startled as I tested her reaction.

"Put those near the bath, please. And please bring us some ice, as quick as you can." 

"Ice bucket?"

"Yes, an ice bucket. Get on with it."

It was fun ordering this young Pakistani cutie around as I stood nude with my hands on my hips, and it reminded me of my time spent in England. She left quickly to fetch the ice, just as Louie came out of the bath. I stayed naked.

"Why don't you change into your trunks, hon?" I said. "I'm sort of playing a game with this motel clerk, and...well...I told her to bring us an ice bucket. Maybe if you were changing when she comes back we could tease her as a couple. These Pakistanis, they don't know what our customs are, I'm not even sure this young one understands English."

Louie laughed at me. "Such a boring day you've had, being with me. What's the problem, Sheryl, no one to flash at the pool? And you, always playing the 'better than' game with younger women. Ok, I'll undress, but only to take a quick shower. Call out to me if you need me."

A minute or so after Louie started the water our new gal came back with a large bucket of ice. I was still naked. As she entered our room I shut the door behind her. "Follow me," I said. "Put the ice in the bathroom sink with the wine bottle. Go ahead." When she opened the bathroom door I heard Louie shut the water off. He slid the curtain back just as our motel clerk entered the bathroom. I watched as she stared at Louie's broad shoulders down to his penis.

"Hand him a towel, will you please?" I said, as I passed her one of the stack of towels she had delivered. I didn't know if she was excited, or thought that it was her job, or maybe she misunderstood me, but she immediately started drying Louie's chest off. 

"Whoa... that's enough, thank you," I said. "No touch, ok?" Then I took her by the arm and grabbed her firmly. I rubbed the back of my hand against her breast as I walked her out of the room. "Thank you for the ice," I said, and I closed the motel room door behind her.

I found a corkscrew in Louie's pants pocket, and I uncorked the chilled wine. We hadn't brought in wine glasses yet, so I used one of those plastic covered plastic cups that are in every chain motel in America, and I poured myself a plastic cup of wine. Then I did the same for Louie. Life wasn't that bad, at that moment, not bad at all. Louie and I were standing naked, sipping Chardonnay, in a new motel room somewhere in Texas. The sun was sinking, and I was ready for a quick swim. Later, I thought, we'd find a restaurant, he'd treat me like a princess, and we'd pass out in each other's arms.

"Sheryl...you were too pushy with that young motel clerk. Did you get a good look at her? I mean, I can't always guess the age of those people."

"Relax," I said. "She was in our room, delivering supplies to guests. I've been around Pakistani workers before, I know what I'm doing. You were obviously in the shower with the water running, you'd be naked to anyone in any language. And no sexual contact took place. If anything, I could complain about the way she went after you. She won't be a problem."

Then I put my green thong bikini on, grabbed another towel, and headed out the door for the pool. Louie didn't follow. No one else was there, and I had a cool quick swim. The shadows crossed the pool as the sun slipped away and I could feel the intense humidity dropping. Next I was back in the room, and Louie was yelling about the TV set.

"The damn thing doesn't work," he said, as he continued to press the on/off remote. "Walk over to the office and get them over here while I put some pants on." 

Hmmm. More fun. I did as Louie asked, in my green thong bikini, and the motel manager immediately followed me back to our room, accompanied by the young clerk. He took a look at the remote, batted it, it still wouldn't work. Then he said something in some language and the young gal left.

"How old is she?" I heard Louie ask him, as I started to slip out of my wet suit. I was on the other side of the motel room, in front of the second sink, facing away. With some maneuvering the manager could see me in the mirror, but he didn't try.

"Oh, Deema, just nineteen."

"Is she married?" Louie asked.

"No. At home, when she was fifteen, she was married to an old man in our city. She was his third wife. Last month he died, and she doesn't have much, so we moved her here to help us with the motel."

"So she's a virgin?"

"No. The old man did consummate the marriage, but they had no children. His other wives had his children, and his property went to them."

"This old man, he had three wives at the same time?"

"Yes, and all beautiful women too."

'Deema' then returned with a package of batteries. The manager simply changed the battery in the remote, and the TV set came on. They left, and we had more Chardonnay, this time in a wine glass. I took a very short shower and I dressed myself in casual clothes while Louie watched the news. Then we drove back toward Fredericksburg looking for a place to eat.

To our tastes, finding a restaurant was a hard thing to do in Fredericksburg. The town wasn't completely dry, but the couple of restaurants that looked attractive did not serve alcohol. We passed some saloons that would probably appeal to beer drinking, whiskey shooting tourists, cowboy pretenders, but Louie and I were not at that stage. It's a German town, and I always have difficulty with German food. 

Years before, we used to walk around Stuggart on Sundays; nice days when the people had their windows open. You could smell the giant wiener dogs ringed with onions and potatoes, you could see the stern Germans just back from church quaffing huge draft beers with their families. I hated German food in Germany, though I liked Stuggart, but Fredericksburg was no Stuggart.

On the outskirts of town, we found a Texas Steakhouse, probably a chain but not one known in Ohio. The food smelled like crap cut with grease. Louie had the big burger and I had a fish tale sandwich, each came with sides of fries and coleslaw. Worse, the people were ugly and misshaped from a lifetime of that sort of diet. The only redeeming element was that the place served some beers from micro-breweries, and we drank a few good ones. After the short drive back to the motel, we each passed out with the TV set on. It had been a very long day.

I was barely awake when I heard someone at our door. It was after 8:00 A.M. and daylight. Then the door opened. Standing there was Deema. She mumbled a version of 'laundry service' and came in, pulling a work wagon of cleaning supplies. Louie was asleep, half way out of the covers, and I had just the sheet over me. My first reaction was to tell her to get out, then I decided to go along with it and see what I could do with her.

"Good morning, Deema. Are you here to help us today?"

"Yes."

"That's so kind of you." I rose from the bed, nude, tossed my hair and shook my boobs a little.

"Deema, before you can change the sheets, you must help my husband up from the bed. Lend him a hand. Be very gentle, he's just waking up."

Deema walked over to Louie's side of the bed. She put her arm behind Louie's shoulders and head and slowly moved him up into a sitting position. He probably thought he was dreaming as she swung his nude body around. Deema was staring at his half hard penis while Louie's eyes were still closed. 

"I think you know how to wake him, Deema," I said as I stood behind her, "but let me show you." I went to my knees in front of Louie and took his long penis in my mouth, showing off to her, giving her a lesson in American cock sucking. Up and down I went. Deema watched me, and I could hear her breathing. She moved her face a little closer. Pulling away from Louie, I took Deema's hand and moved her to her knees next to me. She didn't say a thing, so I grabbed her head. "Suck my husband, Deema." And she did, going right at it, taking over for me. Now fully awake and hard, Louie had both hands on top of Deema's head as he gave her the mouth fucking that I wanted to see.

But I wasn't through with her yet. Turning, I took her shirt and lifted it over her breasts and I unhooked her bra. Deema's pants were more difficult, I pulled her pants and her panties down to her thighs. Then I sat back on the bed next to Louie and watched the now exposed Deema continue to give head to my husband. Her nipples were darker than her dark Pakistani skin. She had firm small boobs, a rounded ass, and her puss was hairy but trim. Getting on the bed, I leaned onto Louie and I kissed him.

"There you are, love. Being sucked by a cute nineteen year old, less than half my age. You've probably wanted this for a long time. Will you screw her for me? Think of the possibilities. I could tie her arms behind her back and you could fuck her doggie style. Or maybe use a wine bottle, or one of my high heeled shoes."

Louie gave me a hard eye stare. Then he arched his back and lifted Deema's mouth away from his penis. She looked back at him in disbelief. 

"Sir, am I not good?" she said.

"Yes, good, very good. But I must use the toilet right away, I must shave and shower. Perhaps my wife wants you to stay." Saying that, he walked into the bath and shut the door. 

I knew I had a few extra minutes to use this willing young gal. Patting the bed, I motioned for her to sit next to me. Then I embraced her and we started kissing. For a nineteen year old, she had an experienced tongue. I finished undressing Deema, I rolled her onto her back, and I opened her legs. Positioning my puss over her face, I lowered myself until she started licking me. Feeling her hard tongue deep inside of me, I sat up straight on her face. Then I dropped my head into her crotch. She had a soapy odor, which was pleasantly reassuring. As I danced my tongue around her and inside of her, she did the same to me. After a few minutes, she clenched into a strong orgasm, although I wasn't so lucky.

Ok, I thought. I've stripped her, I've sucked her, she sucked me, she sucked Louie, and he apparently doesn't want to screw her – no matter how creative my suggestions were - why keep at it with her?

"Deema," I said. "We must stop before my husband catches us. But before you dress, go in the bath and surprise my husband, show him how beautiful you are nude. I am sure he will enjoy that."

"Ok."

I had already heard the toilet flush so I knew that Louie had gotten off of it. And I didn't hear any water running. Deema stayed in the bath with Louie, with the door closed, for several minutes. 

It's the way that I am. I imagined him examining her fine young body, making her pose for him. Then I imagined him fucking her from behind, him fucking her in the shower stall, him fucking her on the floor. It was the way he treated me at the beginning. I also thought that Deema might know all kinds of different ways to screw, Pakistani ways to please a man, things I don't know. Then she came out and, without saying a word, she put her clothes back on, and went on about her chores of cleaning the room.

Myself, I took my own shower once Louie had vacated it, and once I had seen that he was dressed. While showering, Louie packed everything, and when I came out the bed had been made and we were ready to go. Deema was gone. 

As we were doing our last check of the motel room, I spoke. "Did you like that morning surprise, dear?" I was ribbing him a bit, he hates it when I call him dear, he says I use those non descript terms when I am confusing him with my other husbands and boyfriends. Not this time though, I was doing it intentionally.

"Did you do her in the bathroom?" I asked. "Did you fuck that sweet young pussy?"

"How do you know if she is sweet? Did you do her while I was in the bath?"

"I told Deema that I was tired of her barging into our room and looking at us naked, that it wasn't polite, and that she had to completely undress immediately or be disciplined. She obeyed me. I sat on the bed and watched her strip. Then I sent her in to you."

"Sheryl, I admit she was unusual eye candy, and I don't feel bad about taking pleasure in looking at her body. But no, I didn't screw her. I hardly even touched her. You know I don't screw young kids. I've said for years that I have no sexual interest in women under thirty five, no matter how attractive anyone of them might be. Deema was much like when you and I go together to strip clubs, nice body, pretty face and that's where it ends."

"I hope that you don't complain for too long," I responded. "She was fun to play with, and I enjoyed bossing her. Let's forget her, and drive back to Fredericksburg. We are up here to see wineries. Fredericksburg has a separate 'AVA' even though it's within the Hill Country AVA. It's the only Texas area that receives any praise from the Oxford Companion."

"I'm not complaining, though I wish your rag was over. Why would I complain?"

"It was only mid month spotting, and my boobs were sunburned. That's all. I'm ready whenever you are."



April in Texas Ch. 09



Our Texas Hill Country wine tour plan had been to follow Route 290 from Fredericksburg to Austin. I had downloaded maps and winery guides, it's best to travel prepared for what you're looking for. Louie and I were heading into Fredericksburg about noon on another hot Texas day. I'd changed clothes in the car hoping to catch Louie's attention, and maybe I did. I put on a short blue skirt, white high sandals, and a white blouse combination with a long strapped white purse. Myself, it was about as good as I could look.

"This is strange," I said, as I was leafing through my Texas winery information. "Fredericksburg has its own AVA, but their AVA does not appear to have any vineyards. Maybe I'm not making sense out of this guide...there is only one winery listed for Fredericksburg, and they buy their grapes. How can Fredericksburg be an American Viticultural Area if there are no vineyards in the specific AVA?"

That sounded good. Louie always respected intelligent women.

"Don't try to figure the government out."

"Why not. Doesn't AVA mean something?"

"First off," Louie responded, "those 'viticultural area' designations are permits granted by Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. They don't guarantee anything, such as specific geographic boundaries, grape quality, yields, anything. It's not like France or Italy, it doesn't mean a controlled appellation. BATF is the bottom of the totem pole in Federal Law Enforcement. It's not that much of a surprise that no one checked the application to see if there were actual vineyards in Fredericksburg. You're correct, though, 'viticulture', to the rest of the world, does mean the growing and cultivation of wine grapes."

"So the Fredericksburg viticultural area is the inside of one winery building?"

"It could be."

"Then it's bull shit."

"Sheryl, you know better. Didn't you try to join the CIA? To obtain an AVA, in 1988, was as simple as complete the form and attach the fee."

Louie drove on and I remembered my days at the CIA training facility in Virginia. It was basically a 'try out' camp, and I didn't make the cut. Had I, how different my life would have been.

"I admit that I washed out of the CIA," I said, "and the bastards never gave me a reason. But anyway, calling Fredericksburg a separate AVA is a hollow boast, nothing more than a marketing ploy."

"We shall see. Maybe they're required to buy their grapes from the Texas Hill Country AVA, the two overlap, but the buyer will never know. There is a Federal requirement that, when using the AVA distinction on wines, eighty five percent of the grapes must be from the named AVA. There's a little more flexibility for single varietals, like a Chardonnay, it's seventy five percent. But to avoid the rules, most American wineries don't put 'AVA' on their labels. My other thought is that there may be home winemakers, maybe some small backyard vineyards within the AVA. It is confusing."

"Do you want to visit this 'no vineyard' winery?" I asked.

"Sure. It's close by, and so long as it's not one of those kit wine places like they have in Canada."

Next thing we were there, on Main Street, in Fredericksburg, at the Fredericksburg Winery. As advertised, this winery does not have any vineyards, and buys its grapes from a variety of sources. It was a fancy place, trimmed with dark wood wine bins that lined the walls, and the dark wood contrasted with the bright Texas sun outside. Louie studied the different wines on display while I thumbed through the winery's literature.

In many ways buying grapes is not a bad idea, if you live in an area where vinifera grapes are not grown. Louie and I had brought grapes into Ohio from California, some friends do it every year. Buying grapes eliminates the risk factors of farming. It's a bigger mistake, we've learned, to buy juice that has already been pressed, you don't know what you're getting. I had the impression that this winery was buying mostly Texas grapes, but, from their materials, I wasn't so sure. We certainly didn't go to Texas wine country to drink wine made from imported grapes.

As we browsed around the winery, the confusion continued. "I'm disappointed with this," Louie whispered to me, trying to keep his tone down. "These wines, these labels, with all this Texas historical pomp splattered everywhere, it doesn't give me or any other wine buyer a clue about the wine."

"It's a nice place, Louie, taste some wine and relax." 

"These wines have names that someone made up, and labels that depict events. In my opinion, the label should first identify the wine inside the bottle, give its year and its place of production. Here, I need to work my way past the label to discover what the wine is. This place may make enough money to stay open, but because of these labels, its wines will never make it on the international market."

"Hold on," I said. "They have some Chardonnay, their wines are not all red, white or pink. Don't be too quick to judge. The wines may be good."

"They specialize in sweet grandma wines," Louie said, "maybe because the grapes are so much cheaper, and maybe because that's 

what these folks drink. Myself, I'm not interested in their now fashionable attempts at jumping on the fine wine bandwagon, especially with a winery that buys grapes."

"Louie," I said, "maybe they don't care. These are sweet wines, designed for people who don't drink wine on an everyday basis. They're not trying to make a Latour or an Yquem."

The more I spoke the more frustrated Louie became.

"I don't know what they're trying to do," he said, "other than mask an inferior product. They shouldn't be allowed to call their fortified wine 'Port'. Some of these wines don't even say Texas on the label. Hell, this wine could be from Chile, and this other one with Hamburg on it, the juice may be purchased from Germany."

"Loosen up Louie. It's the same as music. Not everyone has the same taste. So far, the Texans I've seen seem to prefer beer and whiskey over fine wine."

"You're right again," he said, "though that means that they are not trying to make wine for my taste. I'm not interested. Let's find another winery to visit."

"Fine by me. I don't want to stand here and argue with you."

On that note, we left. Nearby on Main Street, there was a wine shop and supply store. In many ways it resembled a family hardware that, by chance, carried wine and supplies. In the back of the shop, the owner claimed to have a bottle of wine from every state in the United States, even Alaska. Louie didn't believe him, but he didn't argue the point. There are four U.S. states that have no commercial wineries. Then the owner showed this collection to us. So much for the Fredericksburg AVA. From their cooler, I bought a single bottle of Llano Chardonnay, mainly because it was chilled and that I'd heard of it. In a few minutes Fredericksburg was fading in the rear view mirror of the Mercury as Louie pointed the car onto Route 290 toward Austin.

After making sure we could not be seen, I discreetly opened the Llano Chardonnay and poured ourselves two glasses. America's different from state to state. In some states, namely Tennessee, not only can you drink in the car, there are bars that have drive through windows. In other states, an open alcoholic beverage can lead to a citation. So we were always careful, always assuming that there was some new prohibitionist regulation in effect. I had the maps out and I was trying to chart our next destination, and we were each relaxing.

"There's a Bell Mountain Estates winery about twenty miles north," I said. "Back and forth, that would be a forty mile deviation. The description reads that they actually grow fifty some acres of vines, and that all their wines are estate grown and bottled. Want to go there?"

"What type of grapes do they grow?" 

"It's renowned for Cab Sav and Pinot Noir, or so it's claimed. And it was the first Texas AVA. What do you want to do?"

"This is the main wine route, let's stay on it for a while," Louie said. "We'll find other wineries. Anything close by?"

"Yes, Becker Vineyards."

"The same as the wine we had at the San Antonio restaurant?"

"I believe so."

"Great, start reading me the directions."

"It's only ten miles east of Fredericksburg on 290. When we come to an intersection with Jenschke Lane, turn right, follow it, and it's a few more miles to Becker."

Ten miles was only a few sips away. Louie turned right onto Jenschke, and after a mile he stopped the car. The road was deserted. We pulled off a bit and had another glass of Chardonnay. I wondered why he stopped – he was being quiet – and I wondered if the 'wine tour' portion of our trip would be a bust. It had been so far. He – we - needed to find our sense of direction before this phase became a failure.

After a while he spoke. "Sheryl, you look really pretty today, the best you've looked in a while. The sun has put some color in your cheeks. And some tan on your legs. I'm sorry, but...I haven't made love to you in days, I mean, I thought you were on the rag. Let's hope that you don't waste that outfit on some Texas beer bellies." That said, Louie embraced me and kissed me on my neck. We hugged, no sex, just hugging and holding for I don't know how long, finishing up the Llano in the Mercury under the shade of a Texas oak tree. 

We found Becker Vineyards, but it was more difficult than the simple directions in the guide. Before we found it, we actually saw vineyards, the first real vineyards we'd seen in Texas. Their 'Texas Hill Country' AVA is the largest AVA in America. In that huge area though, there are only around eight hundred acres of vines. By comparison, there are single California vineyards as large as four thousand acres. The vineyards in that part of Texas were few and rather scattered.

As we approached, we saw that Becker Vineyards was a very attractive place, a vineyard winery estate in every sense of the word. There were manicured vineyards and horses in the distance. The phrase 'old money' came to mind. I thought the main building, with its stone front, was patterned after French styling, although the literature said German. The arched doorway on the 'Lavender Haus' duplicated doors of the restored French stone barn of Bridget and Bernard Blanc where I stayed, with Louie, outside Cluny, France. Inside Becker's main winery building, the decorating, with an oversized long wooden bar, and the accenting, was tastefully complete. This was farm country, and flower country too. In addition to the vines, this wine estate was cultivating fields of flowers, including acres of lavender immediately behind the winery building. Obviously someone appreciated southern France. What clearly showed was a tremendous investment, both in dollars and in effort, an investment in building a small, but state of the art, complete wine facility. 

After the initial introductions, we settled into the air conditioned tasting room. A friendly woman behind the bar set out glasses, and she poured wine for us. At that time we were the only guests there. "One of our specialties is Viognier," she said. "We think we're the only U.S. winery outside of California making it. We also are expanding our Rhone varietals, trying to get away from duplicating the Cabernet / Chardonnay same old standards.

"What are we tasting first?" I asked.

"Three whites. A Fume Blanc, followed by our basic Chardonnay, and then the Viognier. The perfume of the Viognier suggests that it be the last of these three."

"So your Fume is Savignon aged in oak?" I asked.

"That's correct."

At last, someone speaking our language. And, although the pours were small, each of the wines was sound and true to its French varietal.

"Next I'll pour our red ladder, first our Provencal Dry Rose, then a Merlot, and we'll finish with our Cabernet – Syrah blend."

Louie was studying a brochure that listed the grape varieties grown there. Listed, among others, were Mourvedre, Syrah, Viognier, and Grenache.

"You're growing all the Rhone wines," Louie said, "is this winery in Rhone Rangers?"

"No," she said, "what's Rhone Rangers?"

"It's an organization of mostly California wineries that have the same direction, making Rhone style wines, that you do here. We're 'sidekick' members. It's fun, there's a newsletter, you get a tee shirt, and it's only five dollars to join as a sidekick. You can probably find it on the net."

"I'll check it out," she said.

"East of the Mississippi," Louie rambled on, "there are a few member wineries, but most are in California. We visited Hortons, in Virginia, last year. He makes a Viognier, and he has an excellent Marsanne too. If you're ever in Virginia, it's worth the visit."

On display, in addition to the wines, were elaborate craft products. I also took a glance at their lunch and dinner menus, which appeared to be 'by reservation only'. Louie went back to the car to get his throw away camera. He always does throw aways after I lost a digital card that had half a trip to Europe on it. Becker's meals featured elaborate, multi course, expensive French cuisine. I wondered how much of the food was locally produced, and I hoped that it was. Sadly, no food events were scheduled for that day.

A small group of people came into the winery, they were led by a handsome bearded man who was giving them a tour of the facility. I guessed he was the owner, the winemaker, or both. We listened as he spoke, and heard his experiences of making Rhone style wines there in Texas. Unfortunately, it appeared that his knowledge of the Rhone was going right over the heads of his guests. I had to speak up.

"We've driven the Rhone a few times," I said, "although my husband usually does the driving. I'm the navigator."

"Really..." he said. "Have you been through the Hermitage area?"

"Hmmm... three or four times. We've stayed in Valence, where we once bartered for a room in an old hotel. It was before the Euro. I didn't know the French word for fifty, and we got a lower price. If you have the time to find them, there are still some nice old hotels, but these days we often end up in an E-Tap. They're clean and cheap and there's no hassle."

"Visit any wineries?"

"Not formally, not in Hermitage. If stop the car and walk around the vineyards means visit, then sure, but most of the wineries require an advance appointment for a tour. Wine is sold at wine shops through local merchants, and the wineries are typically not open to tourists."

Our host then turned to the rest of the group and invited them into the basement wine cellar. We tagged along. In the cellar was an impressive expanse of oak barrels, some French, some American. Use of the basement for barrel storage hinted that Becker was utilizing gravity feed for his wines – no pumps. I was surprised. For a small winery it looked as if everything was going into oak barrels, and that's expensive. I continued chatting with the owner while Louie took a few pictures of me in the cellar.

"The worst things about the Rhone," I said, "are the nuclear power plants that are on its banks."

"The nuclear plants?"

"Yeah... I jog, and when I jog, I wear a heart monitor. Last fall, Louie took me to France and Italy for a romantic getaway. He rented a new Renault diesel for us at the Charles De Gaul airport, and we drove to Chablis where we spent the night at a Chateau. Then we drove through the rest of Burgundy, through eastern France, and took the Mont Blanc tunnel to the Alba truffle fest.

"Sounds like a nice trip," he said.

"It was very scenic. Fine wine, fine cuisine. Crossing the Alps is always an experience. And spending time together, as we traveled, brought us close. Next, we drove across northern Italy past Venice to Friuli. Well, as I said, he drives, I navigate." 

"An adventure on the wine route," he said, "Kermit Lynch would be proud of you two."

"On the return flip back to Paris, we drove up the Rhone after a few days on the Italian and French Rivieras. We were staying in France at an E-Tap south of Valence, thirty Euros a night. In the morning, I was out jogging near one of those nuclear plants. I ran for a while and then I felt faint. Close to the power plant, my heart monitor went totally erratic, up and down, just crazy. And whether it's a known fact, I believe that nuclear radiation must have some effect on the grapes while they grow."

"That's one complaint about France I've never heard," he responded. "And I thought I'd heard them all."

Everyone climbed the steps up from the cellar. Most of the tour group left, including the winemaker. Louie purchased a few chilled bottles of wine - the Fume, a Chardonnay, the Provencal Rose - and some souvenir wine glasses. There were picnic tables outside, and the gal behind the bar told us that it would be fine if we wanted to drink their wine outside, and that we could wander around if we wanted to.

So we stayed. I had some brie cheese in the car and some French bread, and we had a little picnic under the awning, sitting in the shade at the table at Becker Vineyards. Louie opened the Rose first, he was most impressed by it. 

"American Rose," he said, "no matter where it's from, isn't usually this dry. White Zinfandel ruined Rose in America. But this wine has the perfect level of dryness."

His praise of the wines, and of Becker, went on for the whole time that we ate. Myself, I was more impressed by the way he was treating me. He took photos of me, photos of me next to the Lavender fields, me near the old log cabin, me on a bench toasting the wine and smiling. For the first time in a long time, I felt beautiful. Holding the cheap camera out, he took photos of us together. Before we realized it, we had drunk two full bottles. Coupled with the wine inside the tasting room, and the bottle of Llano we had on the way over, we were over our limits. We each needed a nap. So we lazily laid around in the shade, just the two of us, drinking bottled water to dilute the alcohol, until we were ready to move again. It was a beautiful afternoon in Texas.



April in Texas Ch. 10



Ninety four degrees and three o'clock in the afternoon. Blue sky, hot sun, and it was only April in Texas. Leaving Becker Vineyards, and after getting our bearings, Louie stopped the car along the back road. 

"I have to pee," he said. He got out of the car to urinate in the bushes, and when he returned, I realized that I had to go too. But I left the big Mercury door open when I got out, so that it hid me from view. I pulled my skirt up and my panties down and I squatted baseball catcher style. Louie watched me pee as I let go right next to the car door.

"Give me a napkin or some tissue" I said, as I stayed squatting. Louie didn't move quickly at all to find me anything, he sat and stared at my bare crotch and my position.

"What's the rush?"

"You know I always wipe myself, find me something."

"Will I be rewarded?"

"We'll see if you deserve it."

Louie then got out of the car and walked around to me, holding a white paper napkin in his hand. He hunched down and gently ran it across my vagina, moving the napkin upward which is the only way I do it. Then he stood back up.

"Good enough for a reward? Hmmm... you're in a compromising position... on the ground with your panties down, one that I can take advantage of."

In a quick motion, he unzipped his fly and had his penis in my face. Ok, I thought, this is easy enough, there's no one around, and I took his dick in my mouth. My long slow suck put a smile on his face. I was happy to let him know that I was still his for the taking, anytime, anywhere. And I sucked his penis as best I could, squatting by the side of the car. But Louie stopped me from sucking him further.

"Lean back on the car seat," he said, as he lowered his pants.

I climbed in the car and did as he asked, and when I did, he pushed my skirt up and took my panties the rest of the way off. Wow, I thought, Louie wants a quickie in the Texas countryside. I was ready to give it to him, and I spread for him the best I could. Once he had worked his long size deep in me as far as he could in that uncomfortable position, he stopped. His head was bumping the steering wheel and our legs were hanging out the door.

""Sheryl, roll over, move back and we'll do some doggie style."

I slid up on my knees and backed by ass to the car's edge. Louie was standing within the car door and he slipped his erection right in, all the way in. He bottomed out on me. In no time, we were rocking like the old days when we were new lovers cheating on our spouses. He screwed me so deep, and so hard, a car went by and we didn't miss a beat. That went on for about ten minutes, but then Louie stopped pumping me. I guess I expected him to stop. Like a true ram, he doesn't ejaculate much in the heat, and it was hot. We'd had fifteen to twenty minutes of sex, three positions. We were both sweaty and the scent of hot copulation, mostly from me, the scent of a woman freshly fucked, filled the air. Calmly, he backed away from me, he pulled his pants up, and he put my panties in his pocket. Within a few minutes we were back on the road at the intersection of Route 290. Louie turned right toward Austin.

"We probably have time for another winery stop," I said, while I studied the map. Louie lifted my skirt up to see my bare crotch as I kept talking. He sometimes would become sexually frustrated when he would screw me and he'd not come. "There's a jog in 290 near Johnson City, there'll probably be a hotel there. In the worst case, we're only an hour or so from Austin and it should be loaded with hotels."

Immediately we came upon another vineyard right along Route 290. It looked real. We knew enough to recognize the European vinifera vines in the fields. The sign said 'Grape Creek Vineyard" and Louie pulled in. Oddly, there were a couple of acres where new vines had been planted, and some of the older vines were in bad shape. I looked over and I noticed my panties were hanging out of Louie's pocket, but I decided not to even ask for them back. No panties, strangers and a short skirt can be fun. By now, I had my second wind, and I wanted to try more Texas wines.

The winery tasting room was on top of the wine cellar, and the sign read that tastings were no charge. Another sign advertised a bed and breakfast over the winery. An older woman politely greeted us, we were the only customers there. I say customers because whenever anyplace has free tastings, we always buy something.

"We have some guests, honey," she shouted down toward the basement cellar. After a minute an older man came out who I assumed was her husband. It was a mom and pop operation, something Louie and I once dreamed of having ourselves. The couple were in their seventies, maybe older.

"Are you here for a taste?" the man asked.

"We certainly are," Louie said. "What are you pouring?"

"Do you prefer dry or sweet?"

"Dry."

As Louie spoke, the woman set three tasting glasses in front of each of us. She then took three open bottles of white wine from a cooler, and she poured each of us a two ounce taste of their Grape Creek Cuvee Blanc. We nipped at it, it was pleasant.

"This is our everyday white wine, it's a blend that varies a little year to year," the man said. "If you detect some spice, it's from the Gewürztraminer in it."

"I can find it," I said as I finished my glass, "it goes in a lot of directions."

"Next try our Savignon Blanc," he went on, and as he spoke his wife continued to pour. "It's not oaked, and that allows us to bring out the melon and grassy flavors."

It was good too, much like a New Zealand style Sav.

"Lastly, here's our Fume Blanc. Same grape, same vintage, but this time aged in French oak barrels, which gives it that smoky finish."

"Tell me," Louie said, "do you grow all your grapes here?"

"We used to, when we first started. Hell, we started with a backyard vineyard after I retired from the oil business. We only wanted to make enough good wine to satisfy our own taste for it, after we'd caught the wine bug while living in Europe. That little vineyard we built up to seventeen acres, but we've had problems. These days we are buying grapes like everyone else to supplement our production and to meet demand."

"The oil business..." Louie said, "I married, first time, into the oil business. My first wife's family were old time wildcatters in Pennsylvania a hundred years ago. They moved to Bremen, Ohio in 1907, where oil could be found at forty feet. Later, they owned a refinery in Bay City, Michigan. Eight brothers, they were poking holes and running pipelines all over the place, even China. They're about all dead now. It's a long story, and one I won't repeat in front of my wife Sheryl. It's enough to say that I'm divorced from the oil business."

"All wildcatter family stories are long, that's the nature of the business. Texas made many of them wealthy, and many more poor. What was their name?"

"Stewart. Short guys, pure Scots."

Louie, changing topics, continued with his conversation with the owner. "What's the problem with your vines? Is it the heat down here? I mean, don't vines go into stress when it hits one hundred degrees?"

"Not so much the heat, at least not here on this farm. We're well watered and our nights are cool; that keeps our acids up. Our big problem is Pierce's Disease. We've had to pull out vines, use whatever treatments we could find to stop it, and we've replanted. There's just no cure for Pierce's Disease, other than a hard winter freeze."

"We don't get Pierce's in Ohio," Louie added, "the sharpshooter bug that spreads the virus can't survive our winters."

I'd heard all of Louie's banter before, so I stopped listening. Plus I was the one who started our own vineyard, I mixed the chemicals, I pruned the wines, I did the work.

"Mam," I said, "can we try your reds?"

After I asked, she placed three clean glasses in front of each of us. First, she poured their Petite Rouge. It was fruity, a hot weather red that would best be served chilled. "This is our red blend. We recommend it chilled with a picnic or a barbecue. It's basically Sangiovese, with Merlot and Semillon blended in. An Italian wine consultant recommended the two reds, one white blend, like a Chianti, which gives it balance, and allows it to be drunk young."

Next she poured a straight Merlot. I found it respectable, Louie had no comment. For the final red, she poured their Cab Sav. It too was above average, and showed its oak aging well. These Texans made good wine, and they had a wonderful lifestyle, a literal dream come true.

There were photos of the rooms upstairs in the winery brochure on the counter. "Is your bed and breakfast available tonight?" I asked.

"Not tonight," the woman replied. "We only have two rooms that we rent out and we're booked solid for most of this spring. People come to see the bluebonnets and the crafts more than for our wine."

"How much are the rooms, anyway?" I asked, as I looked at the photos of rather Spartan furnishings.

"Ninety dollars a night."

Way too much, I thought to myself. We'd stayed at fancy wineries in Europe, with full board meals, for half that price. I thought about negotiating a better price, and I didn't believe for a second that the rooms were rented. There were no other cars there. My intuition told me that the woman didn't want my bare legs around her husband or around the rest of her family. Women know the scent of ovulation, and the smell of sex. And my hunch was that, had we stayed, Louie would have become involved in a prolonged argument about world oil. Maybe the misses knew that too. Sometimes we're wanted as guests, sometimes we're not. At Burny Vineyards, in Virginia, they rent out a new, fully furnished, two story, three bedroom house that overlooks their vineyards. We stayed there. Their regular price is one hundred and eighty dollars a night. But they wanted us to stay, and they rented it to us for fifty bucks. For fun, we did spend the whole evening at that house nude, cooking steaks, drinking wine and having great sex with the lights on. Who knows, maybe they watched through the windows.

Louie picked out a bottle of Grape Creek's Petite Rouge and a bottle of their Cuvee Blanc. When he paid, he had to take my panties out of his pocket. I am sure the owners noticed him doing it. He held them in his left hand as he fished for change. They then offered us a final taste of their Muscat Canelli, which was sweeter than the other whites and had some fizz in it. Overall, I found no faults in the wines at Grape Creek, and I don't fault the owners either. It's me, I don't always make the best first impressions, and wearing my short skirt with no panties didn't help with those old timers.

It was now past four and time to think about a place to stay the night. We drove toward Austin, which means that we went though Stonewall, and through Johnson City. I realized at the time that the place was named Johnson City, but that it wasn't a city. It was a small rural community, and we had no intentions of paying homage to Lyndon's museum. That's where the road jogged, where I thought we'd find a place to stay. And there was one motel, a 1960's red brick place on the east side of the road. We stopped, I did a cameo of the room, and it was a dump. Maybe, I hope, it's been rehabbed by now, but there was no way I would sleep there, so we continued on the road to Austin.

What a surprise Austin was. I expected that it would mirror Columbus, Ohio. Each city has a huge university, each is the state capital, and each has several other academic and art institutions. But it was dark when we finally hit Austin's outskirts, and I panic when it's dark if I have no place to stay. The freeways, we'd call it an outerbelt back east, they made no sense on the west side of Austin. We'd drive up one way, spot the sign of a chain hotel, get off the highway, and then not be able to find the place. We're not idiots. In Texas, they place their hotel signs at intersections, but that doesn't mean the hotel is even near the intersection. After more than an hour of wrong turns, we finally found a vacancy at an Embassy Suites hotel on the northwest side of town. Louie didn't want to stay there, too expensive, we don't need a suite, and so on. Myself, I was wired and tired of being lost, and I agreed to pay the one hundred and fifty dollar a night rate.

Inside, Louie was freaked. The hotel featured an open space tropical courtyard, on the ground floor, with several stories of hotel rooms that surrounded it. We rode the elevator to our fourth floor 'suite', and the only protection from a deadly tumble overboard was a thin metal railing. The place was a real opportunity for suicide. Louie has extreme fear of heights, so much that he has to be fully tanked to board an airplane, and he'll say the Rosary in turbulence. He hugged the walls until I opened the door to our room. The suite itself was ok, it had a kitchen and a sitting room, but we didn't have any food. Once inside, Louie relaxed, he opened a bottle of wine, and he scanned the TV for news.

According to the brochure, the hotel featured a huge pool with a hot tub on the ground floor. Just the thing, I thought, to help us unwind. After a glass or two of Becker's Chardonnay, I suggested to Louie that we go down for a relaxing soak. He didn't like to admit his phobias, so he agreed to go. We changed into our bathing suits, I put my black bikini on, we grabbed some towels, and we rode the elevator down. 

The entire pool area was packed. I hadn't realized how big a hotel this was. The pool was filled with children, and the hot tub overflowed with a couple of dozen under thirty year olds not so discretely drinking from plastic hotel cups. It was everything for us to squeeze in. The crowd were all having a good time, but Louie and I didn't fit in with it, especially myself with the bouncing children. The problem was that we had nothing else to do, no food to eat, and I was really flipped after being lost in Austin. 

"Let's go back to the room" Louie said, reading my mind. "It's too crowded here."

Once back in our room, I knew Louie was not leaving it again, not that night. We stretched out on the bed, we finished the wine, then we opened another bottle of wine, we watched TV, and then Louie fell asleep. Myself, I was wide awake. I got up, and I found my dry thin green bikini. I'm not sure if Louie heard me tell him that I was going back down to the hot tub, I figured the kids would be gone by this late hour and that I'd have the place to myself, so I slipped out.

And I was right. All the children had left, and the few couples that were soaking in the hot tub appeared harmless enough. I joined them. The temperature was mildly comfortable, not too hot, and I expected to soak in it for a while. The woman next to me, an attractive brunette, told me that she and her husband were in Austin on business. He worked in the music industry, she said, and his company was there to support a client who hoped to land a spot on Austin City Limits. She introduced herself as Joan, and introduced me to her husband Allan. They were an attractive pair, from what I could see in the water, they were not fat and they were friendly. With them was another guy, Mark, who said his wife was too busy with their kids to make the trip. As we talked, they each sucked on plastic hotel cups that were filled with a clear beverage.

"Sheryl," Joan asked, "would you like one of these? I made a pitcher of vodka martinis that I have hidden with our towels. Let me get you one."

When Joan got out of the water I was struck by what a beauty she was. Her wet long brown hair ran down her back, she was about 5'7, she had thin shapely legs and hips, round right sized boobs, and a pretty face. Then I took another glance at her husband Allan, and he was good looking too, as was their friend Mark. Pleasant enough company, I thought. Joan brought me the vodka martini and she eased back in the water next to me. We discussed the usual stuff, and her vodka martinis were excellent. While we chatted, I checked her and her husband out, our conversation drifted from mild to bold flirtation. With such a beauty for a wife, I wondered why Allan kept his eyes on me. We drank more martinis, and after a short time we four were the only ones there.

I slid over to their friend Mark. He was an interesting guy, alone without his wife, and naturally we fell into conversation. He told me that his wife had given birth a few months ago, and that she had another child from an earlier marriage whom he was considering adopting. I loosened the strings on my bikini top, dropping it down, hoping to get his attention. We were flirting. I let him for a few seconds see my breasts, then I tightened my top back up. And Mark was only twenty seven. I told him I was thirty two, he didn't seem to detect my lie. As he spoke to me, I studied him. He had a nice head of hair, a handsome square cut face, and little chest hair. Not like that hairy monkey I was used to.

"My wife," he said, "she's been having difficulty balancing things; her job, the kids, post partum depression, it's been tough lately. This short break from each other, I hope it does us some good."

Then the lights flashed like a bell ringing in a grade school playground.

"They're ready to shut the pool area," Joan said, slightly giddy from the martinis, "it's past closing time. How about coming back to our room with us, Sheryl, we can hang out for a while."

I had nothing else to do, Louie was passed out, and these people were interesting and fun. And young. I said sure. So we four left the hot tub and road the elevator to Joan and Allan's room. Once inside, it was identical to the 'suite' I rented, although it had two double beds, each of which had been used. Mark must be staying with them, I thought. I had my towel wrapped around my waist, as did the others, and Joan began mixing up another batch of vodka martinis. She and I stood around in the kitchen, while the two guys flipped for a movie on the TV.

"Enjoying Austin?" Joan said to me.

"Hey, a couple more of these and I'll be enjoying anything...and everything. Thanks for asking me up. I need the different company, and I need to unwind."

"Me too. I'm getting out of this damn wet suit," Joan said, and she walked off staggering to the bathroom. I went into the TV area where the two guys were. It had a small couch and a chair positioned in front of the TV set. As I was standing there sipping my martini, looking at the screen – the guys had some hotel porn movie on – Joan came out from the bath. She was completely nude, and was even more beautiful naked. And she wasn't uncomfortable about it at all. She had a body to be proud of, and she knew it.

"Hey guys," she was half toasted as she spoke, "don't get the couch all wet with those suits. Get that couch wet and it will stink of every Egyptian that's ever stayed in Austin. Hang them to dry in the bathroom. You know the rules. Jeez..."

I wasn't shocked, more so I was impressed. In fact I enjoyed looking at her body, and her eyes caught me staring. I continued to watch her even after she caught me, she posed for me.

"It's ok, Sheryl. We've spent the day at some lake beach here known as Hippie Hollow, it's a nudist area. We've all been nude most of the day, together with a lot of other folks. Everybody in Austin that wanted to see me nude has seen me nude today. It was fun, I like showing off."

"Well...I...sometimes I do too."

"Then what's slowing you down? Get to the bath and get out of that wet bikini."

As she spoke to me, Allan and Mark came out of the bath, each naked. The guys were each around 5'10. They were trim and fit and handsome – with all over tans - and they were each well endowed. Mark's penis got my attention first, he wasn't that big, but he just plain looked good to me. I sort of...wanted to get naked with them...I knew I was going to. Then Joan, we were each past half drunk, she took my arm and led me to the bathroom. She stripped my bikini off of me. Maybe she detected some hesitancy on my part. She didn't ask, she didn't speak, she tossed my towel and she unfastened my top and pulled my bottoms down. I was too smashed, I guess, to say anything, we were all naked now, why complain. I was wobbly and I was dizzy from the strong booze and the long day. Joan kissed me on my lips and felt me, and I kissed her back. Then she led me back to the guys.




April in Texas Ch. 10



"What do you think guys? Lookee here. Sheryl has nice tits, doesn't she? She's thin, nice ass, and a smooth shaved puss. Isn't she a fresh sight after watching me nude all day."

It was like I was being presented on a stage, and it was so exciting. "Open your legs, Sheryl."

I did.

"Squat, and show the boys your shaved puss."

I did.

"Now stand on your toes." 

Saying that, she took my hand and spun me, she turned me around, and round, like a ballerina dancing, and round, and round again. I was dizzy and falling fast. I stumbled onto the couch between the two guys. As I landed, Allan got up and I settled in next to Mark. Joan and Allan squeezed into the side chair, I took a deep breath, and we relaxed together nude, drinking more martinis, watching the movie.

The movie was old California porn with pool party scenes. It featured people who had beautiful bodies, but the acting was close to comical. Joan yelled at the TV to get on with the sex. The movie scene then panned to a bedroom that overlooked the pool. The party hostess walked in to find her teenage daughter giving head to an older guest. The photography was good, the teenager had long blond hair and a pretty face. The close ups of her sucking were well done and exciting.

Joan shouted at the TV. "Fuck that cunt's mouth. Suck that cock, you slut."

I leaned over onto Mark. His legs were open. I gently walked my right hand over to his crotch, and I began massaging him. It was the natural thing to do, I thought, as I felt him stiffen in my hand. My movements proceeded to a full hand job, as Mark watched the porno. The movie had expanded to a group sex scene. Every type of straight sex was on the screen; three ways, four ways, everything. 

Allan saw that I was jerking Mark off, saw that I was initiating the sex. He came over and he kissed me. Then he put his arm around me. He moved me – I let him - off the couch and onto the floor between Mark's legs. I hesitated... a little... to take Mark in my mouth, and then Joan swatted me on my ass.

"C'mon, Sheryl, get it going. Mark hasn't had any in days, take care of him."

Then she slapped my fanny again, and again...until... I began to suck Mark, slowly at first, thinking that he really wasn't that bad a guy, and then I got into his penis and gave him my best effort. I bobbed up and down, I licked him inside and out, while Allan and Joan watched me. His penis was the exact size that it didn't hurt my jaw to suck it, and suck Mark I did.

"How's her mouth," Allan said, as he sat back down on the couch.

"Good...really good. Here, try her yourself." Mark moved my face off of his erection and toward Allan's, then Mark put his penis back in too. For an instant they both were in my mouth at the same time, with their dicks rubbing against each other's, on top of my tongue. Mark stood up and Joan stood closer, watching me suck her husband. It was then that I felt Mark probing me with his fingers, and I felt his fine young stiff penis enter my vagina from behind. I'd passed the point of offering any objection. In a few minutes, just a few minutes, Mark was emptying his semen in me.

"Whoa," Joan said, "looks like Mark's got his rocks off in you, Sheryl." Joan then grabbed me by my hair and straightened me up. "Kneel down, and clean Mark's cock up."

I did as I was told. Truth was, I liked sucking Mark's penis, and I was happy to get back at it. Mark traded places with Allan on the couch and I obediently licked our combined juices from his soft shaft as Allan and Joan watched me do it.

"Was Sheryl's pussy tight?" Allan asked. Not waiting for a response, Allan lifted my fanny up and stuck his prick in me doggie style, deep in me, and pounded my puss as his wife watched him fuck me. I hadn't fucked anybody, other than Louie, in years, and I was having my second strange guy in one night.

"Looks good," Joan said, as she took Allan's place on the couch. And she pushed my face into her shaved puss. I sent my hard tongue into her vagina and I chewed on her clit. She lifted her legs and put them over my shoulders. They may have been ganging up on me, the three of them, but Joan was beautiful, and I was hers, and I was theirs. My long time fantasies of doing a married couple, of licking the wife while the husband does me from behind, were coming true. I was eating Joan, working Mark's penis with my right hand, and getting it from Allan from behind.

Soon, Mark was hard in my hand again. I asked Joan for permission to pay attention to his sweet dick. She agreed, then positioned each of us on the couch, with me on top riding Mark's young dick. I bent forward and I was kissing Mark. Then Allan came up to our kissing faces...and I sucked Allan for a minute again...and then Mark started to...Mark started to suck Allan's dick...as I continued riding him...and Mark continued to suck Allan, just inches from my face. Allan knelt on the couch next to us with his cock deep in Mark's mouth while I was fucking Mark. I watched Allan twitch, and tighten up, as Mark sucked and swallowed all of Allan's semen.

"Having enough fun?" Joan said to me. 

Actually, I needed a break. I'd never been with a man who, while screwing me, sucked off another man. I'd only seen gay sex a couple of times back in my theater days, and I didn't participate in it. So I climbed off bi sexual Mark and walked to the kitchen; I needed a drink. Joan went with me.

"Serve the guys fresh drinks, Sheryl, then come back to me." That was easy enough to do, so I did it. When I came back in the kitchen, Joan had slid up onto the kitchen counter. Her legs were wide open, her palms were flush on the counter and I knew what she wanted from me. But I leaned back, still standing, sipping my fresh vodka martini. The drink cleansed my mouth in a way that wine never does.

"The bi guy thing...you know" Joan said, "it's no big thing. It's gotten Mark through his problems with his wife, I hope so at least, he is a good friend. His wife's a stuck up bitch who refused to get naked with us. She doesn't even know Mark's bi, she's that out of it."

"Do you let Mark screw you?"

"Sometimes. I mean, he is a lover for Allan, and a lover for me. We share him. What's good for the goose, you know."

Joan dropped from the kitchen counter and wrapped her arms around me. Our mouths connected, our tongues intertwined. As she fingered me, she drew some of Mark's semen from my vagina, then she sucked her fingers, then she did it again.

"C'mon," she said. "Those bastards have each come. It's our turn."

When we walked back before the guys, Mark was on his knees giving head to Allan, while Allan watched the movie. It was like...we were each nude for them...and they didn't even notice. Joan took me to her bed, told me to lie down and wait, and she fumbled through her luggage. Then she put a strap on dildo around her waist. Joan told me to start on top, she laid on her back, and I lowered myself onto the dildo. Not the real thing, but it was a pleasurable experience. We continued kissing, feeling each other, nipple sucking, but it seemed odd to be doing a dildo when two guys were there in the next room.

Allan was the first to join us, and then Mark, who had a camera out. As I fucked away on top of her, Joan slid down the bed, past her knees, and her legs fell to the floor. Allan at least had the courtesy to use a lubricant of some sort...before he...then he...worked his hard dick deep into my ass. Double penetration. He felt twice the size than when he was in my mouth or my puss. Allan pumped my ass for what seemed like forever. Then Mark was back at my mouth, with his renewed erection. Three separate people were fucking me at the same time. Taking photos. I posed in every position with their body parts in me. Swapping, switching, trading places, all three including Joan with the dildo, fucked my ass, my mouth, my puss...until we were each exhausted.

Oh my god. I looked over at the clock. It was nearly 5:00 A.M. We'd been fucking all night. I needed to leave, I needed to get back to my room, and fast. What fib could I possibly come up with to explain my all night absence? In the bath, I washed myself, I put my bikini back on, hoping that the chlorine from the hot tub would cover the odor of sex. Then I grabbed my towel and room key, I said a thanks and goodbye, and I left.



April in Texas Ch. 11



Louie was in the same place on the bed when I slipped back into our dark room. His wine glass was there, same spot, still half full, and CNN was on 'mute' but still playing. He didn't appear to have moved an inch in the five hours that I'd been gone. As quietly as possible, I crept into the bathroom, and I locked the door behind me. Louie hadn't awakened, as far as I could tell, he didn't appear to notice my return. Maybe luck was with me, I thought, but then maybe not.

Next thing, I made the necessary noises as if I was sick. It wasn't a tough pretend, I had enough vodka in my stomach, I knew that I would be sick if I didn't get it out of my system. There was semen in my hair and on my face, and I could feel semen oozing out of my ass and my vagina. Putting my fingers down my throat, I forced myself to vomit, once, twice, three times, and I flushed each time so that Louie could hear it. I even spit some vomit on the floor, and on myself, to mask the other sex odors. This charade I carried on for a half hour, Louie must have been asleep. He didn't ask even once if I was ok. 

After steaming up the bathroom with hot water, I got in the shower for a thorough catharsis. The hotel water pressure was strong, and I stood under it, wondering to myself 'why'. I made a douche rag out of a washcloth, I twisted it, and I stuck it in my vagina as far as I could. Then I resoaped and I did it again. Next, I soaped my fingers and got them as far in my ass as I could, I gargled with the hot shower water, and I started to cry. What possessed me? What devil lives inside of me? Why was I never satisfied with my life, my job, with Louie, why did I need to pretend to be ten years younger. There was a real man, who was absolutely devoted to me and to me only, and I slipped out and screwed some strange bisexual weirdoes. Face it, I thought, I am sick, I need psychological help. Should I tell Louie the truth, or should I lie? I'll have to lie, I reasoned, the truth about my night out would kill him.

After the shower, and after I tied my hair in a fresh towel, I stared at my image in the foggy mirror. The lines in my face, the wrinkles between my eyebrows, I saw all of the age showing distractions that I'd accumulated over time. Reflected there as well I saw my father's face, in my own, and my mother's. I have no children, I thought, and these images from my ancestors, my appearance, their bloodlines, it all will end with me.

Then I heard a turn of the bathroom door knob, though it was still locked. "I'm going down to the breakfast buffet," Louie yelled through the locked door. When I moved to unlock the bathroom door, I heard the hotel door close. Looking out, Louie was gone. 

The lights were on in the bedroom, and it was getting light outside. The room had been shuffled, our bags had been gone through, my purse had been gone through, it was as if our things had been sorted and divided. Maybe luck wasn't with me after all.

So I dressed, as casually as possible, brushed my teeth a few more times, found the other room keycard, and went searching for Louie at the buffet. I didn't see him, not at first, the buffet was packed with families with children, kids lined up for custom omelettes and pancakes, prep chefs everywhere, it was quite a production. Then I located Louie, sitting by himself, with a newspaper, a glass of grapefruit juice, and a cup of coffee.

"Hey...Guttentag," I said as Louie's eyes looked into mine.

"Right," was his response. I sat down across from him. Then Louie started singing some dumb old country song, 'here I am in Dallas / where the hell are you / how come you're not here with me / like you said you'd do'. Next, he changed 'Dallas' to 'Austin', and sang it again.

"What's up with the luggage? Were you just looking for something to wear?"

"No...what's up with the luggage is that I have split our stuff up. I found my airline ticket, boarding pass whatever. For fifty bucks, SouthWest will let me on a plane today, in San Antonio. The car alone is costing me twenty five dollars a day, then there's gas, food and hotel expenses through next week...figure that I am cutting my losses."

"You're leaving?"

"Absolutely. I'll return the rental car to Budget in San An, they have a shuttle to the airport, and I'll be in Columbus late this evening."

"Well...why?...and what am I supposed to do?...what about me?"

"You know, Sheryl, you're an educated, intelligent person. All along, I've figured that you must weigh your options, and I've figured that you always have an alternative backup plan should there be a change in circumstance. I'm not a shit. I could drop you at the Austin airport. Maybe your backup plan is to move to your mother's in Florida, or maybe go to Albuquerque and stay with the Ogdens. You could fly to Naples. Or if you like, you can ride with me back to San An, I'm sure Lamar would let you stay with him for a while."

"That's just great, Louie. Wonderful ideas. But you haven't answered the 'why' question, have you?"

"No, and you don't want me to, and I don't think I need to. I'm sure that you have contrived some fable about last night, and I'd just as soon as not hear it. Let's skip through the lies and move forward to the consequences."

"I haven't told you any lies! I haven't told you anything!"

Louie took a sip of his juice and stared an unforgettable, unblinking stare deep into my eyes.

"The phrase is 'rude awakening', dear. The TV woke me up, about 1:30, with war news. Obviously, you weren't there, so I dressed and went looking for you. Probably in the bar, I thought, but you weren't. It was closed. Everything was closed, the pool area was shut down, you were nowhere to be found. I continued to search for you, and I had the car keys so I knew you hadn't taken the car. I was worried. We've never been in Austin, I thought you might have been abducted."

"Well I wasn't. And I'm here with you now, Louie."

"So I went to hotel security, which was open. They video everything, all the common areas. After describing your appearance, they reviewed the video of the hotel entrance area - you had not left the building. Then they checked the video of the pool area, at the time it closed. What a surprise. Two couples still in the hot tub, flirting and drinking...need I say more?"

"Louie, I told you that I was going back to the hot tub, you just don't remember. And what's so wrong about that?"

"What went wrong – what cooked your goose - was that the security guards started laughing. I thought they were simply laughing at two drunk couples staggering toward the elevator, but that wasn't so funny...they knew something I didn't know, so I asked."

"The guard said, 'sorry, buddy, you don't want to know'. 'Of course I do' I said, 'tell me what the hell is going on."

"Fine", he said, "but don't flip out on us, or try and be a tough guy. We'll have you arrested. Ok with that?"

"I said sure."

"So he told me. There are a group of 'swingers' staying on the third floor, two young guys and a knockout gal. They've been here in the hotel for a week. They work for an internet porno site, one that specializes in picking up older women, the women over forty types. Sometimes the young, pretty gal acts as a lead, but once they get the old gals up to their room, and once the old gal is so drunk she won't say no, they gang bang her and they take photos of her being fucked in every possible position. The photos then get posted on their web site."

"How can you be sure it's the same team?"

"In the week they've been here, we've seen at least a dozen forty year old broads getting on the elevator with them, I've even talked to them about it. It's a fun job, they told me. They say the sex is always consensual and that usually it's started by the old gals. The gals, they told me, will eagerly do everything. They pose for the nastiest fuck photos and get a kick out of seeing themselves being ass fucked on the internet. Hey, it's not rape, and they don't screw children, they're not prostitutes, and they're room is paid for in advance. And not one of the old gals has complained."

"As he talked, the guard then checked another computer screen," Louie went on. "Their room was accessed at 12:30 A.M., the guard said, right after the pool closed. The door hasn't been opened since. There's video here of your wife getting off the elevator with them. Your wife has been in their room for hours, and what she's doing in there...you can only guess...but the photos of her being gang banged will be on the internet soon enough."

I was speechless. Red faced. In shock. No, I wasn't going to admit anything, other than my own stupidity. Every piece of that puzzle fit precisely. I felt so ashamed, and I knew that my tryst had torn Louie's heart to pieces. I imagined the humiliation, the total embarrassment and the pain he must have suffered when those guards told him the truth, yes, the truth about me. I had been set up for somebody's lewd entertainment. What if my company finds those photos on the internet? What if some judge, or a lawyer friend of Louie's finds them. In a short few hours time, our relationship had been shattered, and it was all my fault. With my own tears swelling, I mustered up the courage to speak.

"I want to go home with you," I said. "When we get back home, I promise you that I will admit myself to the psych unit at Riverside Hospital. I'll apply for disability leave from Public Entities and I'll stay in treatment, on happy drugs or whatever, until I recover from this disorder."

"N.G.B.R.I." Louie said.

"What's that?"

"The insanity defense. And to invoke 'Insanity' is an admission that the act occurred..."

"I am not arguing with you about what happened, what I am doing is asking for your help. I am sick... I am mentally ill... you've known it for years...my mother and my brother have the same depression disorder... you're the one who threw my pills away, you said I didn't need them..." I was sobbing, breaking down at the breakfast buffet. "Please, let's pack the car, get out of here, and let's get on that plane. I just want to go home, to go home with you Louie."

Louie got up to leave and I followed him. Two hours later we were dragging our luggage from the Budget rental shuttle into the San Antonio airport. And six hours after that – our delay was a stop in Nashville – we were on the ground in Columbus. In the flash of a half day, our trip to Texas was over, and we were back home in Ohio. Later on, after Louie threatened to sue the porno website, and threatened to have them prosecuted for using the date rape drug, my photos were confirmed as destroyed. Myself, I have some fond memories of Texas, and some bad memories too. But the remaining time spent living with Louie, in his country house with his sons, that will need to be detailed in different volumes.

ET FINI